Tag Archives: Friday Reads

“Trust me. I have things to say” (14).

Poetry is a difficult genre to review. Poetry is a personal subject: for each of our bodies, there is a poetry that corresponds, that resonates and echoes with us.

Richard Siken’s Crush is my favorite collection of poetry – and one of my favorite books. I went through a period in my life when I read it once a week (on Sundays). I’ve recorded myself reading poems from Crush and sent the recordings to romantic prospects (with varying degrees of success, but that says nothing of Siken).

War of the Foxes is not Crush. There is a different amplitude about it. It is less concussive than Crush; more a stiletto knife through rib-spaces than a gut-punch (I like my poetry like a back-alley-fight — I like to come away with marks, impacted). And yet, perhaps it is not fair, I think, to talk about Foxes in the shadow of Crush (though how to separate them? there is no yolk from the white. if you do read Siken, you should start with Crush; the climax and catharsis of grief and the understanding of how he frames poetry is, perhaps, clearer in the older anthology).

So let’s talk about War of the Foxes. We begin in an art gallery. And that is what Foxes is, at the end of it, I believe: an art gallery. This may seem inactive. This is especially so if you do not particularly enjoy art galleries, have not been to an art gallery in a long time, or do not realize that while you are looking at the art, the art is also looking back. “All painting is sent downstream, into the future” (26). There’s the impression that the artist remains the active participant, the repetition of the act of creation, even as the viewer is looking (or we are). But what is the art, and who is the artist, and who is the viewer – these are the questions behind the obvious, behind the poems; “We do not walk through a passive landscape. The paint dries eventually” (6). Using something to talk about something else: this is poetry. (This is a good story). This is an exhibit on history, on war, on love. On birds. Ghosts. Paintings. “What is a ghost? What is a painting? Yes and yes, / the same answers” (42). War of the Foxes invites us to look within each frame and to see what we can find — ourselves, and maybe each other. “What’s the difference between me and the world? / Compartmentalization” (40). Connection is the art of it.

When I selected this book to review and began my post, I didn’t know that I would wake up on December 4th to the news of a new poem by Richard Siken. This is wonderful news because, in the Spring of 2019, Siken suffered a stroke and underwent a long recovery, during which he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to write again. Today, he shared “Real Estate.” I am delighted to have him back again.

Siken, Richard. (2015). War of the Foxes. Copper Canyon Press.

Barbara Demick’s 2009 book, Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea, blew me away with the eye-opening window it provided into everyday life in North Korea. In Eat the Buddha: Life and Death in a Tibetan Town, published this past July, Demick offers similar insight into Tibet by profiling a handful of individuals whose lived experiences paint a representative picture of life in a little-known land.

I’m guessing I’m not alone in my limited knowledge of Tibet. I associate it with the Dalai Lama, living in exile in India; Mount Everest, located on the border between Nepal and Tibet; and conflicts with the Chinese government, which claims sovereignty over it. After reading Demick’s book, I’ve definitely expanded my knowledge of the issues Tibetans have faced, particularly since 1950 when the Chinese army “liberated” them on behalf of Mao Zedong’s Communist Party.

Demick’s subjects tell tales of property seizure and struggle sessions. They also suffered from famine–a result of collectivization coordinated by cadres who ignored the delicate balance Tibetans had previously maintained between herding and high-altitude farming. Perhaps the biggest affront, however, was the Chinese government’s effort to suppress Tibetan’s religion, culture, and language through attacks on monks, monasteries, and the Dalai Lama:

Seeing the monks humiliated, statues smashed, and paintings burned shook Tibetans to the core. Buddhism provided the rituals through which the seasons were measured, births celebrated, and deaths grieved. . . . The attacks on religion alienated Tibetans who might otherwise have supported the Communist Party’s efforts to stamp out feudalism and create social equality. (48)

Not surprisingly, monasteries have become primary sites of contemporary Tibetan resistance. Initially demolished or repurposed in the late 1950s, monasteries started reopening in 1980. By 1994, however, the Communist Party had started cracking down on them again to “rein in Tibetan religious life” (144). Since then conflicts have escalated until, in 2009, a young monk set himself on fire, triggering a wave of self-immolations over subsequent years. (The 156th occurred on November 26, 2019.)

Due to the shocking nature of this means of political protest, self-immolations have received international media coverage. If you are like me, this may be the primary reason you have even the slightest inkling of what’s been happening in Tibet. If you’d like to learn more, however, you now have a book recommendation: Barbara Demick’s Eat the Buddha!

Demick, Barbara. Eat the Buddha: Life and Death in a Tibetan Town. New York: Random House, 2020.

I am almost always drawn to books with the words book, bookshop, library or librarian in the title. The Bookseller, by Cynthia Swanson, caught my attention first with the title, then the unusual plot, then the location. Having lived in the Denver area for 22 years, this book was like walking down familiar streets again. I was hooked from the very first page, and I was 7/8’s of the way through before I figured out the awesome plot twist. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Denver, 1962: Kitty Miller has come to terms with her unconventional single life. She loves the bookshop she runs with her best friend, Frieda, and enjoys complete control over her day-to-day existence. She can come and go as she pleases, answering to no one. There was a man once, a doctor named Kevin, but it didn’t quite work out the way Kitty had hoped.

Then the dreams begin.

Denver, 1963: Katharyn Andersson is married to Lars, the love of her life. They have beautiful children, an elegant home, and good friends. It’s everything Kitty Miller once believed she wanted—but it only exists when she sleeps.

Convinced that these dreams are simply due to her overactive imagination, Kitty enjoys her nighttime forays into this alternate world. But with each visit, the more irresistibly real Katharyn’s life becomes. Can she choose which life she wants? If so, what is the cost of staying Kitty, or becoming Katharyn?

As the lines between her worlds begin to blur, Kitty must figure out what is real and what is imagined, and learn to live with the result. (Amazon)

As we seem to be jumping right into winter weather this week, it’s the best time for soups, comfort foods in general, and so much baking.

Tieghan Gerard’s Half Baked Harvest Super Simple is my current favorite cookbook with “more than 125 recipes for instant, overnight, meal-prepped, and easy comfort foods.” Recipes like browned sage-butter chicken pot pie” (p. 172) or broccoli cheddar soup (p. 94) are perfect for cold, rainy/snowy weeknights.

The recipes are divided into: basics, breakfast and brunch, appetizers and sides, salad and soup, pizza and pasta, vegetarian, poultry and pork, beef and lamb, seafood and fish, and dessert. Each recipe fits on a single page with a short personal note from Tieghan (such as growing up in the Ohio and her love of Top ramen which has now become a more “grown-up” version with garlic-butter noodles). She includes different instructions for cooking on a stovetop, pressure cooker, or slow cooker, as well as ingredient alternatives. The recipes are intended to be fairly easy to make without a long list of ingredients. Some recipes include premade or store-bought items, like her Blondie Brownie Bars (p. 274) which includes a boxed brownie mix or the Creamy Chicken Gnocchi Soup (p. 91) which includes a box of mini potato gnocchi. But some days, there’s just not time to make everything from scratch and the recipes make them super delicious. (She also has a five ingredient hazelnut brownie recipe or cinnamon rolls with chai frosting which are both incredibly easy and wonderful.)

Along with the recipes, the photography in this book is gorgeous. The book is well worth checking out just to look at the pretty pictures of delicious food.

Gerard, T. Half baked harvest super simple. Clarkson Potter. 2019.

Birding, or bird-watching, has grown in popularity as an enjoyable activity that allows for social distancing. Birding also lets us re-center ourselves while connecting with the natural world. Of course, birding was a popular pastime even before 2020, and there are lots of books on the topic. Ted Floyd’s book, How to Know the Birds, takes a refreshing and elegant approach that will intrigue new and seasoned birders alike.

Floyd structures the book in a new way. He takes the stages of interest in birding, and lays them over the natural seasons and how those affect birds and birding, and then explores those themes by discussing one bird at a time, in a personal way. It reads much more easily than that description might lead you to believe! Each section is a bite-sized chunk that can be devoured quickly. A reader could jump around in the book, as one might with a traditional bird field guide, or read it beginning to end. This book is a good resource for the new or the experienced birder, and it would also be a great gift for the seasoned birder that thinks they’ve read all the bird books.

Floyd, Ted, and N J. Schmitt. How to Know the Birds: The Art & Adventure of Birding. , 2019. Print.

Ann Patchett’s Bel Canto was the first book that I read of this author’s many books. At the time, it was Lincoln City Libraries’ selection for its One Book – One Lincoln community reading project. That book led to reading several other of Patchett’s novels and memoirs. The Dutch House is Patchett’s eighth novel and shares characteristics of her previous books. Common are interesting settings, shifting timelines, well-drawn characters, blended families, and complicated relationships. Notable are Patchett’s skilled writing, wit, and imaginative stories. Dutch House (a mansion near Philadelphia) is both background and central to the story.

Somewhat akin to a fairy tale, Danny and Maeve Conroy, brother and sister, are the central characters (Hansel and Gretel?). There are the experiences of abandonment, banishment, the evil stepmother, and not-at-all evil stepsisters. Danny is the book’s first-person narrator. Danny’s and Maeve’s closeness over five decades evolves from their early childhood loss of mother and father. Interesting to me was the dialogue. Though, dialogue was especially notable because I listened to the audiobook narrated by Tom Hanks, perhaps more accurately described as performed by Hanks.

Patchett, Ann. The Dutch House. HarperCollins. 2019.