196 Books: Italy

Gomorrah: A Personal Journey into the Violent International Empire of Naples' Organized Crime System by Robert Saviano

 Italy looks like a boot!

The summary looks like a summary!

A groundbreaking, unprecedented bestseller in Italy, Roberto Saviano's insider account traces the decline of the city of Naples under the rule of the Camorra, an organized crime network more powerful and violent than the Mafia. The Camorra is an elaborate, international system dealing in drugs, high fashion, construction, and toxic waste, and its influence has entirely transformed life in Campania, the province surrounding Naples.

Since seeing his first murder victim, at thirteen, Roberto Saviano has watched the changes in his home city. For Gomorrah, he disappeared into the Camorra and witnessed up close the drug cartel's audacious, sophisticated, and far-reaching corruption that has paralyzed his home city and introduced the world to a new breed of organized crime.

This one was a DOOZY. If you want to feel warm fuzzies about the future of the world, this book will not do it. I'm not going to do quotes on this one; there wasn't a lot of humor in it and it mostly just bummed me out. I'll just give you an overview of some fresh horrors happening in the world! YAY!

So we start off learning about counterfeit clothes. But they're not really counterfeit; they're like...fraudulent? They're ordered from the actual designers (haute couture level), they're made with the same materials and with the same quality. But they're made in this hellhole by people getting pennies for their work. And then after this artisan gets a FRACTION of what they deserve, their work is walking red carpets. Alright, a quote works here. "Chinese factories in China were competing with Chinese factories in Italy." So about those sweatshops...

Maybe it's naïve; probably it's naïve; but with the high-high end designers, I figured they had ethical practices and treated employees fairly. 

Next we moved on to drugs and general violence. That part was pretty much as I expected. Same story you hear about drug peddling and "gang wars" all over. Same with the construction stuff. The families get their claws into every aspect of business that they can, and construction is a pretty good bet. 

Last was waste disposal, and this was even worse than the clothes stuff. The amount of people and effort involved in dumping this shit irresponsibly was disgusting. So you've got toxic, hazardous chemicals mixed into fertilizer, hanging out at the bottom of the ocean, and chilling in buried barrels. Just hanging around poisoning the water, air, and earth. And it's really fucking depressing to know there are SO MANY people that don't give a single shit about the future or anyone other than themselves. And SO MANY of those people have immense power to fuck with everyone and everything else in the world. YAY. 

As awful as the content was, the book was very well written and engaging while still getting all the facts and statistics across. And there were actually a lot of good quotes. It's just that I couldn't go back and look into all of it again, for my own brainbox. It's important for this stuff to get out there, absolutely. But damn it, people suck.

So, HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY. How do we get some orcas stationed over by Naples? 

196 Books: Israel

 The Seven Good Years by Etgar Keret

We're all probably pretty familiar with where Israel is at this point:

Here's the description:

The seven years between the birth of Etgar Keret’s son and the death of his father were good years, though still full of reasons to worry. Lev is born in the midst of a terrorist attack. Etgar’s father gets cancer. The threat of constant war looms over their home and permeates daily life.

What emerges from this dark reality is a series of sublimely absurd ruminations on everything from Etgar’s three-year-old son’s impending military service to the terrorist mind-set behind Angry Birds. There’s Lev’s insistence that he is a cat, releasing him from any human responsibilities or rules. Etgar’s siblings, all very different people who have chosen radically divergent paths in life, come together after his father’s shivah to experience the grief and love that tie a family together forever. This wise, witty memoir—Etgar’s first nonfiction book published in America, and told in his inimitable style—is full of wonder and life and love, poignant insights, and irrepressible humor.

Firstly, I'll try not to tie this book too much to what's happening in that part of the world at the moment, but it'll probably happen a bit. I also think this will be a relatively short post, but I've said that before! Overall it was a nice, light read. Well, let's get into it.

Well of course, my first quote ties to current events hahaha. "It's not their fault,' I say. 'It's just that the attacks are always the same. What kind of original thing can you say about an explosion and senseless death?" I think this is a good description of how many of us (especially in the US) feel about the bombings, the school shootings, the cops killing people of color, etc etc etc. It's the same thing happening, it's the same people being impacted, it's the same politicians and talking heads on the TV wondering what could possible by done about all this?! 

"Once again, we're a small country surrounded by enemies, fighting for our lives, not a strong, occupying country forced to fight daily against a civilian population." All I'll say about this one is it's changed a bit since 2015 (when this book was published). 

You know, reading back through the quotes I highlighted, I don't think I can write this one as I usually do. So many of the quotes are about war and bombing and with what's going on over there right now it's rough. And now I am going to go into my thoughts on it. So in this book he talked a few times about how, as a Jewish person, he has a constant feeling of persecution and paranoia. So, yeah, I can't imagine what that's like. But now (at least to me) they've become the oppressors so it's hard to be sympathetic to that feeling. Although, let me caveat that and say that I absolutely have no idea what any of those people are going through or have been through. I just hate all of it. And I hate waking up each day wondering what fresh horrors the idiot leaders of the country are releasing on each other. There's probably more I can do to help people or push for peace all over, but as one random citizen it's too much. Then you add in climate change and the general destruction of the earth and I DON'T WANT TO LIVE ON THIS PLANET ANYMORE. 

Okay, back to the book. There were a lot of lighthearted quips and cute stories. I will say that it sounds like a wonderful, loving little family. And maybe I'll go back to it in the future if things ever settle down between Israel and Palestine (it may be worth mentioning that the bombing in the book was coming from Syria). 

So, sorry guys. I'm not doing well on this one. The whole time I was reading this story, images of shaking, dust covered children played in the back of my brain. So while I did enjoy this book, it was rather soured. The only way I can make up for this crappy review (although maybe they all are!!) is by giving you a picture of my puppy. I'm obsessed. 

196 Books: Ireland

 Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt

Ireland!

Summary!

“When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I managed to survive at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.”

So begins the luminous memoir of Frank McCourt, born in Depression-era Brooklyn to recent Irish immigrants and raised in the slums of Limerick, Ireland. Frank’s mother, Angela, has no money to feed the children since Frank’s father, Malachy, rarely works, and when he does he drinks his wages. Yet Malachy—exasperating, irresponsible, and beguiling—does nurture in Frank an appetite for the one thing he can provide: a story. Frank lives for his father’s tales of Cuchulain, who saved Ireland, and of the Angel on the Seventh Step, who brings his mother babies.

Perhaps it is story that accounts for Frank’s survival. Wearing rags for diapers, begging a pig’s head for Christmas dinner and gathering coal from the roadside to light a fire, Frank endures poverty, near-starvation and the casual cruelty of relatives and neighbors—yet lives to tell his tale with eloquence, exuberance, and remarkable forgiveness.

Angela’s Ashes, imbued on every page with Frank McCourt’s astounding humor and compassion, is a glorious book that bears all the marks of a classic.

 

And we're back! I know, this book is kind of basic, but I'd somehow never read it. Plus it's apparently on the ever growing chopping block for banned books (cough FLORIDA cough) and you know I'm reading all of those I can get my hands on. Without further ado, let's get into  it.

Overall I really liked it (shocking, as it's a very popular, awarded, classic book haha).  It really felt like it was just a kid telling me about his days; complete with abruptly switching topics, new topics miles from the previous, run on sentences, super random thoughts, and misinterpretations of adult stuff. Of course there were many, many sad parts, but they don't seem quite as sad from a child's perspective, especially all the grief.

I did accidentally read a review (I was mostly just trying to find out if it was a true story and he was actually Irish) that brought into question the accuracy of the story, which did color my reading a little bit. But it turns out it's mostly just that a lot of people didn't like the portrayal, and it may be exaggerated...but isn't that also how life works for kids? It's one perspective and it's usually a lot more drastic than the reality. So, whatever. And now it's time for some quotes. 

These ones have the kid perspective:

"Malachy doesn't know what I'm laughing at. He won't know anything till he's four going on five." I mean, that's adorable. 

"Dad says I'll understand when I grow up. He tells me that all the time now and I want to be big like him so that I can understand everything. It must be lovely to wake up in the morning and understand everything." Why yes, that would be lovely. 

"He can't read, he can't write, but he knows where to hide the jam." Please, how are these things related?!

These ones have great insults:

"Don't cross me, she says, for if you do it'll be a sorry day in your mother's house." 

"Minnie says, Don't frown, Frankie. It makes your face dark and God knows it's dark enough." Poor guy just had RBF, leave him alone!

"Go back to your seat, you omadhaun, you poltroon, you thing from the far dark corner of a bog." I have no freaking clue what the first two mean, but I would like to start calling people a thing from the far dark corner of a bog. It's just loaded with imagery. 

"He looks like an ordinary Catholic and you'd never imagine a Protestant would be shoveling lime." ...I have so many questions. 

"Get away from my door or I'll come out ad give every one o' ye a good fong in the hole of yeer arse." I also don't know what a fong is. Thumb maybe? If so, that's an interesting threat. 

These have a tone of religion (some with a bit of a stretch):

"That dog is a right Hindu, so she is, and that's where I found her mother wandering around Bangalore. If ever you're getting a dog, Francis, make sure it's a Buddhist. Good-natured dogs, the Buddhists. Never, never get a Mahommedan. They'll eat you sleeping. Never a Catholic dog. They'll eat you every day including Fridays." Sooo how do I find out what religion my puppy is? He does want to nibble on everything...

"Mam says, Alphie is enough. I'm worn out. That's the end of it. No more children. Dad says, The good Catholic woman must perform her wifely duties and submit to her husband or face eternal damnation. Mam says, As long as there are no more children eternal damnation sounds attractive enough to me." Lol.  

"My favorite is St. Christina the Astonishing who takes ages to die. The judge says, Cut off her breast, and when they do she throws it at him and he goes deaf dumb and blind." I never had a favorite saint but I do now! 

(Unfortunately I did try to look this up and couldn't find anything about it. Truly a bummer.)

"I like St. Moling, an Irish bishop. He didn't live in a palace like the bishop of Limerick. He lived in a tree and when other saints visited him for dinner they would sit around on branches like birds having a grand time with their water and dry bread." Part of me wants to look this up too, but after the St. Christina letdown I think I'll just go with it. 

And here are just some I liked:

"It's lovely to know the world can't interfere with the inside of your head." There are so many things I'd like to comment on this one, but I won't. I shall let you, dear reader, make your own quips. 

"Rest your eyes and then read till they fall out of your head." Amen

"Pneumonia, says Malachy. Well, now, that's better than oldmonia." My dad did in fact approve of this joke. 

"Shakespeare is like mashed potatoes, you can never get enough of him."

"Now here's what I want to tell you. Lean over here so I can whisper in your ear. What I want to tell you is, Never smoke another man's pipe." Again, so many questions. 

"I want to get pictures of Limerick stuck in my head in case I never come back."

I FELT this one deeply. We had one summer left in Alaska when we found out we were moving, and I tried to permanently etch that landscape on my brain. We were so ready to leave but I knew it was a magical place that I needed to remember. When we went back last summer, it was like seeing a friend again. 

The cherry on top was the last chapter, which had one word: Tis. Which happens to be the name of the sequel. Bravo. 

196 Books: Iraq

 The Long Way Back by Fuad al-Takarli

This one's Iraq:

This one's the summary:

The Long Way Back tells the story of four generations of the same family living in an old house in the Bab al-Shaykh area of Baghdad. Through exquisite layering of the overlapping worlds of the characters, their private conflicts and passions are set against the wider drama of events leading up to the overthrow of prime minister Abd al-Karim Qasim and the initial steps to power of the Baath party in Iraq in 1962-63.The skilful building-up of the characters and their worlds within a brief and clearly determined period of recent history allows for a bold and intelligent portrayal of the ambiguous strengths and weaknesses of Iraqi and wider Arab culture. In addition, the dramatization of the relationships between generations, social groups, and genders is achieved with a mixture of humor, bitter irony, and compassion that identifies it as a great work of Arabic literature.

One thing I've found during my reading is that the non-fiction books start to get pretty heavy after a while (turns out humans have been garbage forever). So I'll pick a novel to get a little break, but then I feel almost guilty, like I threw away an opportunity to learn something. Stupid, right? But I also find such beautiful descriptions and ideas, which really should be enough. Come on, brain, give yourself a break!

Some of the descriptions were obviously depression. The book is set in the Middle East in the 60s, so I'm guessing there wasn't a lot of mental health concern, but here are some of the feelings expressed:

"But it wasn't the illness that was eating at me: it was an idea, an obsession, a devil on my back."

"He was neither hungry nor tired, but he felt his body failing to respond as he walked. This might be due to some kind of spiritual fatigue, he thought, for which he would soon have to find an explanation."

"It's enough to make it your aim in life not to be filled with terror to the point of madness."

"I had no practical experience of life because I couldn't overcome the particular conditions of the society in which I lived, nor could I overcome the feeling that I was waiting, in some remote corner, to be allowed to experience life."

And my favorite one: "Sometimes we can't survive without some help. Life wears us down without us realizing it."

I find all of these thoughts kind of beautiful. Sad, of course, but depression is such a personal experience; it feels different for everyone even though it's so common. And the fact that your mood changing can completely debilitate you is almost interesting. I realize this makes me sound like someone who has no idea what depression feels like, but I assure you I do. I've found that, as I've gotten older, some things seem more perplexing, and it's less a lack of empathy/sympathy and more an interest in how it all works. 

Of course depression wasn't the only overarching theme. We have the standard sexism, complete with (SPOILER) wanting to kill a woman for being raped. Because, "She was not a virgin; therefore she had lost her honor and must be punished by him or any other member of the family who volunteered. Everyone knew this equation. Honor resided in a woman's hymen, and she was entrusted with preserving it until the appointed time." 

My rage with this passage can only be expressed as such: FAL;DSFIM;AWEOI NFEARHG IPE8BOAENJFC BIUAWER H. 

Get it together, WORLD. 

And then this one kind of made me laugh because apparently this sentiment is eternal: "Has he got a cold? Everyone's got a cold. Just because they call it influenza now, so what? It doesn't make it any more serious." Oh, hey, Covid anyone?! At least back then they didn't have the social meeds to mess it up even more. 

And with that, I'll be taking a small break. It won't seem much different to you since I've been taking for freaking ever to finish my books. But I got a few new books for Christmas and would like to crack those open. See you soon!

196 Books: Iran

 Jewels of Allah by Nina Ansary

Here we have Iran:

And here we have the summary:

The popular narrative about women's lives in Iran over the last forty years goes something like this:

"During the Pahlavi Monarchy, women were on an upward trajectory. In a nation on the cusp of modernity, women actively participated. They were given the right to vote and free to be in public without veils. They wore miniskirts on university campuses. Then came the Islamic Revolution in 1979, with Ayatollah Khomeini at the helm. The burgeoning freedoms for women were extinguished. The veil was required and institutions were segregated by gender. The Islamic Republic had thus achieved its goal of resurrecting the image of the traditional Muslim woman."

The problem with popular narratives is that, despite their convenient half-truths, the real story is more complicated, unexpected, and less tidy.

Inspired by author Nina Ansary's scholarly journey, Jewels of Allah is a provocative roller coaster ride that shatters the stereotypical assumptions and the often misunderstood story of women in Iran today. Highlighting many courageous female leaders and advocates throughout Iran's history, the book illuminates the unanticipated consequences of the Islamic Revolution and the unexpected twists and turns leading to a full-blown feminist movement within a post-revolutionary patriarchal society.

This is another one that I knew would take a while to read because it's essentially a research paper turned book. But I thought it was important, not only to get the history, but especially with the protests going on in Iran today, as well as the fight for women's rights across the world. And let me say, although I had to push myself through it sometimes, it was so worth it. 

I of course see some parallels with what's happening in the US today with the question of reproductive rights. Here's one similarity: "a majority of traditional religious women, and even some educated women who had benefitted from changes under the Shah, supported Ayatollah Khomeini and were a contributing factor in the 1979 collapse of the Pahlavi monarchy." Let me explain: when the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, it took away federal protection for abortion. In some states this means it goes to a vote, in others the governor made a decision. In some states, this means prosecution for miscarriages, the ability to turn in (and even get a reward at times) a woman getting an abortion and anyone helping her, women being denied medications because they can be considered abortion causing, and even a ban on birth control. Having had 3 miscarriages and recently been put on one of those "abortion causing" medications, I find all of this horrific. But there are women that support it. Even women my age. It's...well I wish I had some big argument or revelation but I just find it very sad. 

Here's another example: "Most of the Pahlavi-era changes affecting women were not embraced or accepted by the majority of females from traditional backgrounds. Their families were vehemently opposed to the new standards, finding them offensive and in conflict with cultural mores. Thus, wives, sisters, and daughters were prohibited from partaking of the new freedoms." Of course, this is much more extreme than what's happening in the US. But in comments on something I put on Facebook in support of a reproductive rights proposal in my area, two friends were more concerned about parental rights and young women getting help from others than the impact on the girl or why she might feel the need to seek help elsewhere. Ugh, sorry, I'm all worked up on this topic lately. I'll try to keep the focus on the book. 

Here's another universal one: religion. "While some would label it heresy, many traditional Muslim women are posing a radically earnest question: Could a reinterpretation of passages in the Koran that are used to justify the inferior position of women be a means to women's emancipation?" Religious texts are interesting because they've been translated and interpreted many times, and people can find any number of interpretations in every passage. So maybe it's time to take another look and stop hating on women so much. 

What's also interesting is Ansary talks about ancient Persia and how much more highly regarded women were. They were political and military leaders, and had maternity leave and equal pay. It's crazy now that so many people think women can't be good leaders or run a country, when you look far back in history and that's exactly what they did. 

And here are some passages that just infuriated me. I'll try to keep the spicy comments to a minimum. 

"There was an overall social stigma attached to women receiving an education, as the general belief among clerical leaders was that education for girls was not only against Islamic teaching but a threat to society as well. Many also believed that women did not have the capacity to become educated because their brains were incapable of retaining knowledge."

"1. Woman is a being who, similar to a child, must be educated by a man. 2. Salvation of woman is conditional upon her absolute obedience to her husband. 3. The duty of a woman at home is provision of conditions that are conducive to her husband's tranquility. 4. The aim of matrimony consists of gratification of the husband's sexual desires. 5. Woman must at all times be abashed, except in bed. 6. Woman must not speak during meals."

"The reason for excluding women is that God has not given them the capacity for taking part in politics and electing the representation of this nation. [They are] the weaker sex, and do not have the same power of judgment that men have." 

Sooo...which is it? Either women are stupid and need to be treated like children, or are dangerous and need to be handled. How can it be both?

There's also a lot of discussion of school. At one point schools were desegregated gender-wise, and a lot of traditional families wouldn't send their girls to school. It was thought that girls would get better access and educational opportunities if they were in school with boys, but it turned out the majority of the attention was still given to boys and it further lowered the girls' self esteem, as well as keeping those traditional girls out of the classroom altogether. 

But, there is a bright spot. Women (and some men) are still fighting. "The following statements in the 2008 documentary Generation Tehran indicate that 'despite restrictions in every aspect of their lives, Iranian youth exhibit progressive aspirations': -Our freedom should neither violate the rights of others, nor should it be confined to boundaries that limit us from improving ourselves. -Over here only your thoughts are allowed to be free. -You will never be able to successfully define people by a piece of land." 

"Through their advocacy, commitment, and sacrifice, countless Iranian women (and men) continue to demonstrate why religion must evolve--and dispense with its absolutist tendencies--if it is to exemplify moral validity."

Ansary ends the book by highlighting incredible Iranian women who have made an impact over the years. I'll leave you with this quote from Laleh Pourkarim that I found absolutely beautiful: "Just because it is black in the dark, doesn't mean there is no color."

196 Books: Indonesia

The Rainbow Troops by Andrea Hirata

Indonesia is made up of a bunch of islands:

 

The summary is made up of a bunch of words:

Ikal is one of the ten students of the Muhamaddiyah School, the oldest and poorest school in the Indonesian tin-mining island of Belitong. Like him, his classmates are from the most downtrodden families in the region. But the school has two weapons—its teacher Bu Mus, a slight fifteen-year-old girl with burning courage and a passion for education, and Lintang, the boy genius who inspires his classmates to dream and fight their destiny. Soon the island’s underdogs become its champions. Incredibly moving and full of hope, The Rainbow Troops swept Indonesia off its feet, selling over five million copies and becoming the highest-selling book in its history. It will sweep you away too.

I finished my last book in MAY? Where the fuck did the time go? 

Anyway. This is one of those books that shows you just how different it is in very poor countries. I was also thinking that it took place a very long time ago, but it was only published in 2005 so there goes that theory. Whoa. The author was born in 1967, so this would have taken place around the 70s/80s. Definitely changes my thought on it. (And shows how little research I do on my books. I could be so much better at this). But let's get into it with the perfect starter:

"Imagine the worst possible problems for an elementary school classroom: a roof with leaks so large that students see planes flying in the sky and have to hold umbrellas while studying on rainy days; a cement floor continuously decomposing into sand; strong winds that shake the students' souls with the fear of their school collapsing; and students who want to enter the class but first have to usher goats out of the room. We experienced all of this." Now can you imagine kids in first world countries dealing with even one of these problems? They just wouldn't do it. (And no, I'm not talking about "kids these days!" I'm also thinking of when I was a child and I don't believe I would have braved all that for school.) But here's how he felt about it: "There was a beauty in this poor school, a beauty that I wouldn't trade for a thousand luxurious schools."

But, as we can expect with so many colonized countries, not everybody lived that way: "We, the natives of Belitong, were like a pack of starving rats in the middle of a barn full of rice." Tin mines were found, and of course the colonizers got to digging. Indonesia was independent by the time Andrea Hirata was born, but we all know that doesn't mean they just clear out and leave the natives to themselves. So the Dutch continued to prosper and the locals continued to slave in manual labor. At one point it's believed the school needs to be destroyed for tin mining, but the teachers and students keep pushing and end up saving the school. "And though our efforts would surely fail, our pioneering had opened people's eyes, showing them that a corporation, even a state-owned one, couldn't treat people however it wished." Uh, can we get some of that over here in the US? Be real cool if our country wasn't run by corporations. Also, of course, that really didn't change anything for the folks at the school: "The experience taught me something important about poverty: it is a commodity. PN canceled its tin plundering plans for our school, but that didn't make us any less poor." And this very unfortunate situation: "A genius, a native of the richest island in Indonesia, had to leave school because of poverty." 

I feel like each new book/country/perspective gives me a new appreciation for this project. I'm so glad to learn about different cultures, countries, people, time, and history, but you find so many similarities too. (Of course. Duh.) But here we are in 2022, let's just estimate about 50 years later--50 YEARS--and things aren't that much different. The rich keep stomping on the poor and keeping them down. Everywhere. Of course it's worse in some places than in others, but that situation is universal. And I guess it always has been. But why? Yeah, I like money too, but I also don't want to earn that money by pushing others into (or farther into) poverty. So you get these Bezos-Musk-Zuckerberg types but...why? How is it better, in their minds, to buy an island or a super-duper-yacht, or go to space for 30 seconds instead of helping people? Build libraries, clinics, wings of schools in poor areas; donate books, food, clothing, scholarships, flat out money; advocate for universal healthcare, climate and environmental protections, protections for the rights of minorities. Now, I know it's easy for me to say they should do all this stuff when I'm not actually doing a whole lot of it myself. But I do try. 

Whoa, got a little carried away there for a bit! I shall step down from my soapbox now. But guys--and I know I don't have a lot of readers but who cares--let's all decide to just try to be nice. Help out where we can, take small steps to help the environment or a downtrodden animal or person. Let's all just do something good. 

196 Books: India

 A Free Man: A True Story of Life & Death in Delhi by Aman Sethi

India is another one I think we're all pretty familiar with:

And our summary:

Mohammed Ashraf studied biology, became a butcher, a tailor, and an electrician’s apprentice; now he is a homeless day laborer in the heart of old Delhi. How did he end up this way? In an astonishing debut, Aman Sethi brings him and his indelible group of friends to life through their adventures and misfortunes in the Old Delhi Railway Station, the harrowing wards of a tuberculosis hospital, an illegal bar made of cardboard and plywood, and into Beggars Court and back onto the streets.

In a time of global economic strain, this is an unforgettable evocation of persistence in the face of poverty in one of the world’s largest cities. Sethi recounts Ashraf’s surprising life story with wit, candor, and verve, and A Free Man becomes a moving story of the many ways a man can be free.

Let me start by saying this book was published in 2013. Less than 10 years ago. I kept having to remind myself of this fact because so many aspects of this did not seem like a modern story. 

Most of the book is just kind of disjointed stories about Ashraf (with anecdotes about the rest of the friend group thrown in). Even though it didn't really follow a chronological timeline, the random stories didn't bother me. This was kind of a story of how the "other half" (except the very poor kind, not the very wealthy kind) live. And it's kind of amazing. There are so many things you see or hear about and think "I could never do that" or "I'd never survive," but people's resiliency is pretty astonishing. 

So, because the stories were a little disjointed, my thoughts will be too. Although...they probably are most of the time. Oh well, here we go!

"'Yes, an LLP--Likh Lowda Padh Patthar. And when they ask you what you are, answer loudly and proudly. Chances are they will neer know what it means.' What it means, literally is Write Penis Read Stone--Ashrafspeak for someone who is completely illiterate." This just cracked me up. I wish I had this kind of quick thinking and wit. 

"Without a beedi the alcohol stays in the stomach; with a beedi, the heat makes it vaporize and enter the brain. Or was it the other way around--did alcohol make beedis enter the brain? But in either case, beedis were bad for the brain, and alcohol was good for the heart." So the Google is telling me a beedi is just a hand-rolled cigarette, but I really got the impression in the book that it was marijuana. Either way, I think they may have the whole thing wrong. 

"A dancing adventurer, with my heart for a treasure chest and my penis for a gun." There's absolutely nothing I can add to this sentence. It's beautiful and weird.

"As a result, every interview is a bit like playing a word association game. Kalyani to sex to Bombay whorehouse to slapping." This made me giggle because I can absolutely relate. I've lost count of the amount of times I've had to apologize and tell people, "I have this horrible habit of assuming everyone followed the train of thought in my head." 

But here were a couple of very sobering passages:

"The most incredible scheme was told to me by Guddu, a young man of twenty-two, who ended up in Bara Tooti when his first dream ended in disappointment. 'What did you want to do?' I asked. 'I wanted to sell my kidney.'" ... "For you, all this is research: a boy tries to sell his kidney, you write it down in your notebook. A man goes crazy somewhere between Delhi and Bombay, you store it in your recorder. But for other people, this is life." And this is one of the parts where I had to remind myself that this book is less than 10 years old. There are people living today who are so desperate they're willing to sell an organ. 

And then we get to the tuberculosis part. Living in the US, it's hard to think of people across the world still getting this disease. I mean they don't even bother with the vaccine anymore here because it's so uncommon. The author describes a 10 minute, packed, silent bus ride to the TB hospital; highlighting the silence: "Conversations might go beyond discussing the rising price of dal to more uncomfortable places: places where the man with a raw open would covered with a somewhat clean cloth discovers he is sitting next to the lady with a fungal skin infection, and the boy burning with fever leans against the man who might have leprosy." Granted, you never completely know you're safe from someone else's disease or illness, but I can't imagine the terror of that 10 minute ride. 

Sethi describes the TB hospital and the treatment the patients get: turn your face away from the patient, stay a good distance away, don't stay long, wear a mask. It has to be so depressing. But he also told the beautiful story of a barber who goes to the hospital every day to shave the patients. And he looks them in the eye and talks to them and gives them some comfort. 

One thing I really liked was that Sethi had intended to write a book about this slum area of Delhi, but he ended up almost being Ashraf's guardian or savior. When things were going badly, Ashraf called Aman. They spent so much time together and developed a close friendship. In recounts of their conversations, they always called each other "bhai," which means brother. They continued their friendship over the years. Finally, I came across what I really hoped would be the last line (and it was): "The past is done, Aman bhai. In future we will only talk about the future."

What a beautiful thought.