Or something like it
It's been 3 weeks since I saw the new doc. He put me back on more steroids, which seem to be helping. I'm trying to get back into some yoga and light working out so I can feel like less of a blob for Hawaii. (Did I tell you all that we're visiting Hawaii soon? I'm pretty stoked for some sunshine and relaxation. BTW, if you have any good tips for the Big Island, please share.)
I felt pretty sorry for myself for a while, and angry at the whole situation. I had to talk to so many different people for the new med...the hospital, med reps, nurse ambassador (who I'm pretty sure is Jane Lynch's sister or cousin or something), pharmacy reps, insurance people, and others that I don't even know what they do. It was lucky that we're in a later time zone so I could call them before work, but I got so burned out having to talk to all these people and getting so much information to try and keep straight. I mean I'm still trying to figure it all out.
Anyway I was supposed to get my meds just before Christmas. Luckily I had the day off already but Nurse Ambassador (henceforth known as NA) recommended being with someone just in case I had a reaction...so Soldier took some time off to be with me. We sat around and sat around and...nothing. I got pretty irritated. I thought maybe it was backed up with the holidays, and checked early in the morning, but nada. So, back to the phone. It turned out there was a late flight and it was stuck in Anchorage sooo long story short, I got it like 4 days late. Uh, thanks Alaska.
By the time it came in there was a bit of concern (mostly from me) that it had frozen in transit. There was supposed to be some sort of card or something that told me if it got out of the necessary temperature range, but they weren't there. Real cool. Honestly there was a point in all of this where I just had to kind of laugh, it was a bit of a comedy of errors.
So, the injection pen got to me, that was the big part. Thankfully Soldier was there...I wasn't at all worried about having a reaction, but I wanted to have him there for moral support. The more time I have to think (worry) about something, the more freaked out I get.
I got NA on the phone and got ready to stab myself. Really it might have been better if I had just done it rather than talking through it with her, but it's required for her job...but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'll cut to the chase. If you've ever seen an EPI pen, that's pretty much what mine looks like. It's spring loaded and just sends the meds right in there. I underestimated it though; the needle is so small that I really didn't expect to feel it a whole lot. Oh also with my swollen and sore hands it was kind of hard to even push the button. That doesn't really add much to it, just that it took longer to even get the injection in since my hands hurt so much.
I finally hit the button. It hurt. It startled me. I pulled the pen away. The needle came out. The meds started spraying on me. Soldier and I gave each other a deer-in-the-headlights look. I closed the pen back over the injection site so some of it might soak in. (I don't know if it works that way at all, but it seemed like a fair idea at the time). We laughed about it afterward.
I do think I got at least a teensy bit of the medicine, and now I know what to expect. On the bad side, I have a small ugly bruise on my tum. I'm guessing I'll get one every time, so that's fun.
I think I'm almost back to being able to wear my rings. As silly as it is, that's been one of the biggest issues for me. I know you're all interested, so I'll be sure to keep you in the loop if anything changes!
Till then, I hope you all have a happy New Year and that your 2018 is magical!
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
196 Books: Benin
Why Monkeys Live in Trees by Raouf Mama
Benin is another smaller country, this time in Africa:
The Western African Republic of Benin (formerly Dahomey) is gifted with a great folktale tradition, one of the richest in the world. As pieces of oral literature and cultural history, these tales shed light on some of the values and beliefs as well as the customs and traditions of the people of Benin.
So one thing I forgot to mention in my last book post (I think) is that, coming across smaller countries, I don't have nearly as much choice in books. So I might have to go with one that wasn't written by a native of that country, or something that doesn't really sound super interesting. That's how I came across the short stories for the last two books.
The difference? I loved these! They were more like fables or parables than just short stories. Wait, are fables and parables interchangeable? Hmm...not exactly, but apparently this book had both of them.
Anyway they were super cute and, even though you don't get to "know" the characters so much, they had lessons at the end so it made it worth it for me. And the drawings were absolutely beautiful.
Um...I know my "reviews" for these ones are really short, but how do you really go over a bunch of short stories? I don't know, so I won't try. On to the next!
Benin is another smaller country, this time in Africa:
Summmmarrrry:
This is a book for both young and old lovers of folklore. Why Monkeys Live in Trees and Other Stories from Benin is a rich tapestry of oral tales that come from a wide range of Beninese ethnic groups. They include trickster tales and sacred tales involving the greatest and meanest of mankind, as well as nature and the world of spirits. These ageless tales remind us of the power of love, the perils of greed and pride, and the redemptive virtues of courage, humility, and kindness.
The Western African Republic of Benin (formerly Dahomey) is gifted with a great folktale tradition, one of the richest in the world. As pieces of oral literature and cultural history, these tales shed light on some of the values and beliefs as well as the customs and traditions of the people of Benin.
The difference? I loved these! They were more like fables or parables than just short stories. Wait, are fables and parables interchangeable? Hmm...not exactly, but apparently this book had both of them.
Anyway they were super cute and, even though you don't get to "know" the characters so much, they had lessons at the end so it made it worth it for me. And the drawings were absolutely beautiful.
Um...I know my "reviews" for these ones are really short, but how do you really go over a bunch of short stories? I don't know, so I won't try. On to the next!
Saturday, December 9, 2017
Stabby Stab Stab
Forced masochism
I returned from Seattle today. It was...tiring. Mom met me out there because I'm spoiled, but it was so helpful for me to have her there.
She got to the airport a few minutes before I did, so she was waiting for me at baggage claim. We checked into our hotel and set off to eat. We settled on a place that served Middle Eastern street food and yummmm. After eating we wandered around, found some shops to revisit in the morning, and grabbed a bottle of wine to sit and chat and watch terrible cable with. Honestly, why does cable still exist? It's terrible, most of the shows are terrible, and (worst of all) half of the "show" is commercials. It's bullshit.
Next morning we went to a place called Biscuit Bitch that only served different types of biscuits and gravy. Not my favorite type of breakfast, but it was decent and the place was fun. Next we did some shopping and I woke up in a Sephora (so many bonus points to you if you get that reference).
Then it was off to the hospital. Checked in and waited and worried. Saw the CMA who was really nice and took care of the basics. Waited some more. In came the doctor. He was thorough and very nice from the get-go, starting off with asking me to explain what happened when I got sick (which somehow hadn't made it with my other records). Next he checked my knees, ankles, feet, elbows, wrists, fingers (all of which have been giving me trouble in the past few weeks); he checked for psoriasis and issues in my back and other joints.
He assured me that, though I am a very sick person, he knew how to treat me. That was good news. But there was a catch: it means giving myself an injection every two weeks for the rest of my life.
It just occurred to me that I really shouldn't feel bad for myself, lots of people have to do it. But I hate it. I hate having this thing that takes over my body and is ruining it. Anyway.
He told me how he wanted to treat the problem, and then everything went super fast. My head is still spinning. He explained some things to me, then the CMA came back in. Set up another appointment for me and worked on some insurance stuff. Next was the nurse. She went over how to do the injection and some of the medication stuff. She kept apologizing because all of that would normally have been in a second appointment but they were kind of tied with me not being local. Then it was off for blood work.
The whole thing took 2 hours, which is the longest I've had with one appointment before. In a way it was good, because they made me feel like they were really taking care of me, and they stressed multiple times that I'm not alone; there's a team behind me that's available at any time for any question. It was very reassuring and a bit validating for him to say that I was am quite sick (and that the doctor here didn't give me enough steroids). But it was a whoooole lot at once. I'm really still trying to debrief myself and remember everything I need to do. I actually woke up in the middle of the night last night panicking about some phone call I need to make or some step in the process that I need to take care of.
After the appointment we wandered a bit (have I mentioned how much I love walking around cities?!) and did some more shopping. Dinner at a brewery and another bottle of wine to go back for talking and bad cable.
And this morning we left. I was (still am) exhausted, mentally drained, sleep deprived, and feeling sorry for myself. But when I landed I had to stop to pick up my steroids and get a flu shot. It did perk me up a bit to get home and see my Soldier. But it's still a lot. The worst part? Because of my fingers swelling I can't wear my engagement and wedding rings. Sentimental and silly, possibly, but I guess I'm in a good position if that's the worst of it.
I returned from Seattle today. It was...tiring. Mom met me out there because I'm spoiled, but it was so helpful for me to have her there.
She got to the airport a few minutes before I did, so she was waiting for me at baggage claim. We checked into our hotel and set off to eat. We settled on a place that served Middle Eastern street food and yummmm. After eating we wandered around, found some shops to revisit in the morning, and grabbed a bottle of wine to sit and chat and watch terrible cable with. Honestly, why does cable still exist? It's terrible, most of the shows are terrible, and (worst of all) half of the "show" is commercials. It's bullshit.
Next morning we went to a place called Biscuit Bitch that only served different types of biscuits and gravy. Not my favorite type of breakfast, but it was decent and the place was fun. Next we did some shopping and I woke up in a Sephora (so many bonus points to you if you get that reference).
Then it was off to the hospital. Checked in and waited and worried. Saw the CMA who was really nice and took care of the basics. Waited some more. In came the doctor. He was thorough and very nice from the get-go, starting off with asking me to explain what happened when I got sick (which somehow hadn't made it with my other records). Next he checked my knees, ankles, feet, elbows, wrists, fingers (all of which have been giving me trouble in the past few weeks); he checked for psoriasis and issues in my back and other joints.
He assured me that, though I am a very sick person, he knew how to treat me. That was good news. But there was a catch: it means giving myself an injection every two weeks for the rest of my life.
It just occurred to me that I really shouldn't feel bad for myself, lots of people have to do it. But I hate it. I hate having this thing that takes over my body and is ruining it. Anyway.
He told me how he wanted to treat the problem, and then everything went super fast. My head is still spinning. He explained some things to me, then the CMA came back in. Set up another appointment for me and worked on some insurance stuff. Next was the nurse. She went over how to do the injection and some of the medication stuff. She kept apologizing because all of that would normally have been in a second appointment but they were kind of tied with me not being local. Then it was off for blood work.
The whole thing took 2 hours, which is the longest I've had with one appointment before. In a way it was good, because they made me feel like they were really taking care of me, and they stressed multiple times that I'm not alone; there's a team behind me that's available at any time for any question. It was very reassuring and a bit validating for him to say that I was am quite sick (and that the doctor here didn't give me enough steroids). But it was a whoooole lot at once. I'm really still trying to debrief myself and remember everything I need to do. I actually woke up in the middle of the night last night panicking about some phone call I need to make or some step in the process that I need to take care of.
After the appointment we wandered a bit (have I mentioned how much I love walking around cities?!) and did some more shopping. Dinner at a brewery and another bottle of wine to go back for talking and bad cable.
And this morning we left. I was (still am) exhausted, mentally drained, sleep deprived, and feeling sorry for myself. But when I landed I had to stop to pick up my steroids and get a flu shot. It did perk me up a bit to get home and see my Soldier. But it's still a lot. The worst part? Because of my fingers swelling I can't wear my engagement and wedding rings. Sentimental and silly, possibly, but I guess I'm in a good position if that's the worst of it.
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
196 Books: Belize
On Heroes, Lizards, and Passion by Zoila Ellis
That's Belize. I'm going to be honest, I thought it was an island. It is not.
And summary! Go!
Seven short stories vividly depicting different facets of Belize s reality. From the country s rural areas to New York City, we accompany Belizean women and men as they go through the joys and hardships of life. Zoila Ellis demonstrates a refined ability to perceive and reproduce situations and characters, heightening the emotional impact of everyday events and rendering them into fine literature.
I should have finished this book in like 4 days. Buuut I didn't, and you shall get no apologies or explanations! Bahahahaha!
So I honestly don't have much to say about this one. I'm a much bigger fan of actual novels than short stories. You can't really go into much detail on them, and I like to feel connected to a story. There's just not enough to a short story for it to get under your skin.
But, not being a huge fan of short stories, I did enjoy these...they were cute. But I again had a hard time with the Creole, Caribbean dialect.
So, um, that's about it. Cute stories, short, that's...um...it.
K byyyye
That's Belize. I'm going to be honest, I thought it was an island. It is not.
And summary! Go!
Seven short stories vividly depicting different facets of Belize s reality. From the country s rural areas to New York City, we accompany Belizean women and men as they go through the joys and hardships of life. Zoila Ellis demonstrates a refined ability to perceive and reproduce situations and characters, heightening the emotional impact of everyday events and rendering them into fine literature.
I should have finished this book in like 4 days. Buuut I didn't, and you shall get no apologies or explanations! Bahahahaha!
So I honestly don't have much to say about this one. I'm a much bigger fan of actual novels than short stories. You can't really go into much detail on them, and I like to feel connected to a story. There's just not enough to a short story for it to get under your skin.
But, not being a huge fan of short stories, I did enjoy these...they were cute. But I again had a hard time with the Creole, Caribbean dialect.
So, um, that's about it. Cute stories, short, that's...um...it.
K byyyye
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Hacks and Networks
The health fight
I guess this is the first normal post I've written in a while. It's not really a good one...I'm having another pity party. For most of the time while we've been up here, my body has been cooperating. In June, one of the knees started acting up a little bit, but nothing too bad that I couldn't ignore it. Cause you know how much I'd rather ignore things than go to the doctor, especially up here. (Background: I had been seeing a Nurse Practitioner who didn't completely instill me with confidence. She moved away and they switched me to an MD but I hadn't seen/met her till last week).
A few weeks ago, the other knee, not to be outdone, started ballooning. So, off I went to the doctor. It...wasn't...great. She just seemed unsure, and kept referring to me if labs/diagnostics/treatments were okay with me and something I wanted to do. To which, multiple times, I told her that she knows more than me in the situation and if she thought I needed it I would do it. So she ordered blood work, Xrays, some steroids, and a referral to a rheumatologist.
Off I went to get my blood drawn. I also had to do a pee test, and the tech (yeah, I know she was a phlebotomist, but tech is easier) asked if I had already done it. I said no, and she said we'd do it on the way out. Cool, done that before, no big deal. She stabbed me and took my blood...all good. I was washing my hands after the other test and thought my arm felt weird so I pulled up my sweatshirt and...BLOOD. BLOOD EVERYWHERE. Well, everywhere on the gauze. So I went back in and was like "Hey, no big deal, just bleeding profusely teehee." And she was like "Oh no it's cool, this is pretty common!" UMM NO, ma'am, thank you, this has literally NEVER happened to me. And that should not be common! WTF, Juneau!
So, okay. Not feeling great about the new doctor, but I'm gonna trust her and her knowledge. She ordered 10mg of steroids for 5 days, which I thought seemed like not much, but you know...trust. I started it and they seemed to help marginally and then nothing.
Next up: referral. It's a bit complicated because Southeast Alaska doesn't have any rheumatologists. and if you remember from previous posts, Juneau might as well be an island. So the options are Anchorage or Seattle, which both require a flight out (spoiler: Seattle). I had Soldier call the insurance company to see what they would cover and of course they'll cover in-network doctors, but not travel. WTF DO I HAVE INSURANCE FOR. So sure, you pay in on the premise that we'll help with medical expenses, and you're in a position where you have no choice but to buy a plane ticket to get to a specialist, but FUCK YOU. CAUSE WE CAN. Soldier and I are lucky, because we're in a position where we can pay for this and flights are cheap right now. What if we couldn't afford it? What would I do? I'm pretty sure the people who think our health system is great just don't ever need it.
And last step: Xrays. Oops, I mean Xray. One single picture. That's fine, it's fine. Kind of funny even. It was a standing up picture and the tech thought my knee was an inch below my hip, but it's cool, no worries.
They processed the pic very quickly and called today to let me know that oh there's just some arthritic damage and it's fine, we're not going to worry about it. Oh thanks guys, that's super cool! I'm just not going to worry about the ongoing and lasting damage going on in my (probably) most used joints! During the call, I let them know that the steroids didn't work. I expected them to give me another option, another round, have me come in for more tests, something. NOPE. The doctor decided that more steroids weren't going to work and I should just talk to a rheumatologist about changing my regular meds. OH MY GOSH, THANK YOU SO MUCH INTELLIGENT DOCTOR.
Things may have changed, but when I started on these meds they told me that the next step in treatment would be chemo. C.H.E.M.O. So if you, as a medical professional, are telling me that my next option is legit poison, you better have exhausted every other fucking alternative there is. Every...single...one. Not just "Oooh...I dunno! Not my problem, good luck! Hehehe"
I think this is harder because of the treatment I had back home. I loved my doctors. I completely trusted them and honestly believed they had my best interest in mind and knew what they were doing. For the 2 years we've been here I've felt like I've been scraping at the bottom of the barrel trying to get these people to have the smallest bit of concern and expertise in my health and well-being.
As always, guess what's the absolute worst thing for disease? Stress. But what's a girl to do? I can't really not be stressed by this. And the best part is that I get to wait 3 weeks to see someone who is actually (fingers crossed) competent. But then what? I certainly don't know.
Oof. I dug myself into a sad, sleepy, vodka fueled sadness. I can't even come up with a witty ending. So...I'm sorry. I guess the good news might be more snarky/bitchy/whiny posts. Yay for you!
I guess this is the first normal post I've written in a while. It's not really a good one...I'm having another pity party. For most of the time while we've been up here, my body has been cooperating. In June, one of the knees started acting up a little bit, but nothing too bad that I couldn't ignore it. Cause you know how much I'd rather ignore things than go to the doctor, especially up here. (Background: I had been seeing a Nurse Practitioner who didn't completely instill me with confidence. She moved away and they switched me to an MD but I hadn't seen/met her till last week).
A few weeks ago, the other knee, not to be outdone, started ballooning. So, off I went to the doctor. It...wasn't...great. She just seemed unsure, and kept referring to me if labs/diagnostics/treatments were okay with me and something I wanted to do. To which, multiple times, I told her that she knows more than me in the situation and if she thought I needed it I would do it. So she ordered blood work, Xrays, some steroids, and a referral to a rheumatologist.
Off I went to get my blood drawn. I also had to do a pee test, and the tech (yeah, I know she was a phlebotomist, but tech is easier) asked if I had already done it. I said no, and she said we'd do it on the way out. Cool, done that before, no big deal. She stabbed me and took my blood...all good. I was washing my hands after the other test and thought my arm felt weird so I pulled up my sweatshirt and...BLOOD. BLOOD EVERYWHERE. Well, everywhere on the gauze. So I went back in and was like "Hey, no big deal, just bleeding profusely teehee." And she was like "Oh no it's cool, this is pretty common!" UMM NO, ma'am, thank you, this has literally NEVER happened to me. And that should not be common! WTF, Juneau!
So, okay. Not feeling great about the new doctor, but I'm gonna trust her and her knowledge. She ordered 10mg of steroids for 5 days, which I thought seemed like not much, but you know...trust. I started it and they seemed to help marginally and then nothing.
Next up: referral. It's a bit complicated because Southeast Alaska doesn't have any rheumatologists. and if you remember from previous posts, Juneau might as well be an island. So the options are Anchorage or Seattle, which both require a flight out (spoiler: Seattle). I had Soldier call the insurance company to see what they would cover and of course they'll cover in-network doctors, but not travel. WTF DO I HAVE INSURANCE FOR. So sure, you pay in on the premise that we'll help with medical expenses, and you're in a position where you have no choice but to buy a plane ticket to get to a specialist, but FUCK YOU. CAUSE WE CAN. Soldier and I are lucky, because we're in a position where we can pay for this and flights are cheap right now. What if we couldn't afford it? What would I do? I'm pretty sure the people who think our health system is great just don't ever need it.
And last step: Xrays. Oops, I mean Xray. One single picture. That's fine, it's fine. Kind of funny even. It was a standing up picture and the tech thought my knee was an inch below my hip, but it's cool, no worries.
They processed the pic very quickly and called today to let me know that oh there's just some arthritic damage and it's fine, we're not going to worry about it. Oh thanks guys, that's super cool! I'm just not going to worry about the ongoing and lasting damage going on in my (probably) most used joints! During the call, I let them know that the steroids didn't work. I expected them to give me another option, another round, have me come in for more tests, something. NOPE. The doctor decided that more steroids weren't going to work and I should just talk to a rheumatologist about changing my regular meds. OH MY GOSH, THANK YOU SO MUCH INTELLIGENT DOCTOR.
Things may have changed, but when I started on these meds they told me that the next step in treatment would be chemo. C.H.E.M.O. So if you, as a medical professional, are telling me that my next option is legit poison, you better have exhausted every other fucking alternative there is. Every...single...one. Not just "Oooh...I dunno! Not my problem, good luck! Hehehe"
I think this is harder because of the treatment I had back home. I loved my doctors. I completely trusted them and honestly believed they had my best interest in mind and knew what they were doing. For the 2 years we've been here I've felt like I've been scraping at the bottom of the barrel trying to get these people to have the smallest bit of concern and expertise in my health and well-being.
As always, guess what's the absolute worst thing for disease? Stress. But what's a girl to do? I can't really not be stressed by this. And the best part is that I get to wait 3 weeks to see someone who is actually (fingers crossed) competent. But then what? I certainly don't know.
Oof. I dug myself into a sad, sleepy, vodka fueled sadness. I can't even come up with a witty ending. So...I'm sorry. I guess the good news might be more snarky/bitchy/whiny posts. Yay for you!
Friday, November 10, 2017
196 Books: Belgium
Searching for Augusta by Martin King
And heeere's Belgium:
Lots of fun neighbors. Aaand summary:
Untold millions who saw and read Band of Brothers can finally know the whole story of what happened to American soldiers and civilians in Bastogne during that arduous Winter of 1944/45. In the television version of Band of Brothers, a passing reference is made to an African nurse assisting in an aid station in Bastogne. When military historian Martin King watched the episode, he had to know who that woman was; thus began a multi-year odyssey that revealed the horror of a town under siege as well as an improbable love story between a white Army medic, Jack Prior, and his black nurse, Augusta Chiwy, as they saved countless lives while under constant bombardment. Based on the recent discovery of Prior's diary as well as an exhaustive and occasionally futile search for Augusta herself, King was at last able to bring belated recognition of Augusta's incredible story by both the U.S. Army and Belgian government shortly before she died. This is not only a little-known story of the Battle of the Bulge, but also the author's own relentless mission to locate Augusta and bestow upon her the honors she so richly deserved.
I'll admit that I erred a bit here: I got so excited when I was reading the summary that I didn't look into the author. He's British, but I'm calling it okay because he lives in Belgium and is a military historian so I think he probably did his homework.
I really love historical fiction. My only wish is that they made it more obvious which parts or conversations they made up so you can know for sure.
It was another war book, so there were a lot of things that made my stomach turn. The nazis (no, Google, I won't give them the respect of capitalization) were big old bastards. It definitely blew my mind the level of racism that was still rampant at that time. Some of these soldiers were literally dying but they somehow thought being worked on by a black nurse was worse. Fucking ridiculous. There was a super amazing line about that: "In his opinion the most frightening aspect of any society is the one that regards others, those who are different, as being 'less than human.'" A-fricken-men. I think that's pretty relevant to today's society (well, I guess society always).
And here's a *spoiler* that's also a complaint: when I read a love story I want the main characters to get together! It was a bummer that they didn't. Although, when the author did meet Augusta a few years ago and she told him how Jack was in love with her, she seemed like she might be a smidge senile. So maybe it wasn't a love story at all. And less love story than war story. Which I guess makes sense for what was going on. It's definitely not for the squeamish though.
So, that's it for Belgium. Another war story, another history. Sorry not sorry, etc.
Ok, I know I'm not doing well at these "review" things. I really don't know what to write for starters. Second, I have a huuuuge headache that's making me very cranky, and my knees have been naughty lately. I went to the doctor about them today which always throws me into a big pity party. Alas, woe is me and all that. Maybe by the next review I'll be more chipper.
And heeere's Belgium:
Lots of fun neighbors. Aaand summary:
Untold millions who saw and read Band of Brothers can finally know the whole story of what happened to American soldiers and civilians in Bastogne during that arduous Winter of 1944/45. In the television version of Band of Brothers, a passing reference is made to an African nurse assisting in an aid station in Bastogne. When military historian Martin King watched the episode, he had to know who that woman was; thus began a multi-year odyssey that revealed the horror of a town under siege as well as an improbable love story between a white Army medic, Jack Prior, and his black nurse, Augusta Chiwy, as they saved countless lives while under constant bombardment. Based on the recent discovery of Prior's diary as well as an exhaustive and occasionally futile search for Augusta herself, King was at last able to bring belated recognition of Augusta's incredible story by both the U.S. Army and Belgian government shortly before she died. This is not only a little-known story of the Battle of the Bulge, but also the author's own relentless mission to locate Augusta and bestow upon her the honors she so richly deserved.
I'll admit that I erred a bit here: I got so excited when I was reading the summary that I didn't look into the author. He's British, but I'm calling it okay because he lives in Belgium and is a military historian so I think he probably did his homework.
I really love historical fiction. My only wish is that they made it more obvious which parts or conversations they made up so you can know for sure.
It was another war book, so there were a lot of things that made my stomach turn. The nazis (no, Google, I won't give them the respect of capitalization) were big old bastards. It definitely blew my mind the level of racism that was still rampant at that time. Some of these soldiers were literally dying but they somehow thought being worked on by a black nurse was worse. Fucking ridiculous. There was a super amazing line about that: "In his opinion the most frightening aspect of any society is the one that regards others, those who are different, as being 'less than human.'" A-fricken-men. I think that's pretty relevant to today's society (well, I guess society always).
And here's a *spoiler* that's also a complaint: when I read a love story I want the main characters to get together! It was a bummer that they didn't. Although, when the author did meet Augusta a few years ago and she told him how Jack was in love with her, she seemed like she might be a smidge senile. So maybe it wasn't a love story at all. And less love story than war story. Which I guess makes sense for what was going on. It's definitely not for the squeamish though.
So, that's it for Belgium. Another war story, another history. Sorry not sorry, etc.
Ok, I know I'm not doing well at these "review" things. I really don't know what to write for starters. Second, I have a huuuuge headache that's making me very cranky, and my knees have been naughty lately. I went to the doctor about them today which always throws me into a big pity party. Alas, woe is me and all that. Maybe by the next review I'll be more chipper.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
196 Books: Belarus
Paranoia by Victor Martinovich
Belarus is located here:
It used to be part of the Soviet Union and is considered by many to be a dictatorship. So that's fun.
Book summary:
Banned in Belarus two days after it was published, Paranoia is a thriller, a love story, and a harrowing journey into one of the world’s last closed societies. The book never mentions Belarus or its capital, Minsk, but the setting is unmistakable. In his tragicomic prefatory remarks, author Victor Martinovich all but acknowledges the inevitable comparison: "There is no more need to invent ‘1984’: just look around." The state has so penetrated all areas of life—scrutinizing even errant scraps of paper and utterances between lovers—that he must "enjoin readers not to read this book." But for those who do, Paranoia is a timeless story of doomed romance between a young man, Anatoly, and a mysterious young woman he notices at a café. Their whirlwind romance draws Anatoly into a world of privilege and danger, as he discovers that the third party in their love triangle is the omnipotent and omniscient head of state security. A heart-pounding tale of love, murder, and betrayal, Paranoia will appeal to fans of political thrillers. It also offers insight into the frightful workings of a contemporary totalitarian state. Historian Timothy Snyder’s helpful foreword makes explicit, for interested readers, the parallels between politics in Belarus and the rest of the Eastern European region.
It's also worth noting the "description" on the back of the book:
"All the events related herein are fictional: the protagonists have never existed in any reality other than that of the present text. Any unsanctioned comparisons with historical figures or persons alive today may be qualified as a criminal offense punishable under international and national law. To avoid unintentionally committing acts prosecutable (Google says that's not a word) under the Penal Code, the author--fully aware that, essentially, he should never have written it in the first place--enjoins the reader not to read this book."
Where to start with this one? When looking for Belarus, I was stuck between two books: this one and one that was more factual. I kept getting really excited about the description for this one though, so I went with it. Let me start by confessing that I didn't read the foreward (Google strikes again with that one. Either spell check is going crazy or I am). I rarely read them, and I'm kind of glad I didn't in this case. Books like this one (and 1984) are compelling, but they freak me out to think of that as reality. Like panic attack freak out. Part of me wants to know how close this book is to real life Belarus, and part of me is a scared little girl that wants to shut away all the bad stuff.
So I liked this book just as much as I thought I would. There should have been a disclaimer though...the first line should have been "This book does not have a happy ending." I mean at a certain point you know that it won't, but the love story in there makes you hopeful. There were a few points that really caught me, that I want to point out:
There's a passage about the paranoia: "Sometimes things disappear at home, too. Not very important things but like...gadgets. A postcard from somebody. Or a shoehorn. It's a weird kind of awareness. An awareness of some sort of presence." It reminded me of a conversation I had with Diplomat Sister once about serving the US in communist countries. She said she knew people that did it and they would come home and the police or whomever would have been in their home. They would do things like use the toilet and not flush it...or I assume move/take small things like that. They wanted you to know that they'd been there, that they had access to you and your home and your things. It's such an eerie thought. But I guess that's the authoritarian government.
Next is a silly thing: pelmeni meat dumplings! He mentions them a couple of times and it kept making me smile because there's a pelmeni place in little Juneau! I had them for the first time a few weeks ago. Everybody said they're amazing drunk food; they weren't lying.
The last thing I want to point out about this book is that Martinovich had such rich descriptions. Here's one that I absolutely loved: "Then Bach diminished and faded like the last Gothic cross, like a glint of light in a stained-glass window, and Chopin began. He was like his name. His music bubbled with the foam of champagne spilling from a bottle, surging and flowing from side to side across the stage." I could actually picture the Chopin music; it was such a beautiful description. I could feel it. Other descriptions and thoughts were almost dizzy; almost like the paranoia was setting in for me.
Anyone who likes political thrillers should read this. It's amazing and he's such a vivid, deep writer. Just don't think to much about the reality of it.
Belarus is located here:
It used to be part of the Soviet Union and is considered by many to be a dictatorship. So that's fun.
Book summary:
Banned in Belarus two days after it was published, Paranoia is a thriller, a love story, and a harrowing journey into one of the world’s last closed societies. The book never mentions Belarus or its capital, Minsk, but the setting is unmistakable. In his tragicomic prefatory remarks, author Victor Martinovich all but acknowledges the inevitable comparison: "There is no more need to invent ‘1984’: just look around." The state has so penetrated all areas of life—scrutinizing even errant scraps of paper and utterances between lovers—that he must "enjoin readers not to read this book." But for those who do, Paranoia is a timeless story of doomed romance between a young man, Anatoly, and a mysterious young woman he notices at a café. Their whirlwind romance draws Anatoly into a world of privilege and danger, as he discovers that the third party in their love triangle is the omnipotent and omniscient head of state security. A heart-pounding tale of love, murder, and betrayal, Paranoia will appeal to fans of political thrillers. It also offers insight into the frightful workings of a contemporary totalitarian state. Historian Timothy Snyder’s helpful foreword makes explicit, for interested readers, the parallels between politics in Belarus and the rest of the Eastern European region.
It's also worth noting the "description" on the back of the book:
"All the events related herein are fictional: the protagonists have never existed in any reality other than that of the present text. Any unsanctioned comparisons with historical figures or persons alive today may be qualified as a criminal offense punishable under international and national law. To avoid unintentionally committing acts prosecutable (Google says that's not a word) under the Penal Code, the author--fully aware that, essentially, he should never have written it in the first place--enjoins the reader not to read this book."
Where to start with this one? When looking for Belarus, I was stuck between two books: this one and one that was more factual. I kept getting really excited about the description for this one though, so I went with it. Let me start by confessing that I didn't read the foreward (Google strikes again with that one. Either spell check is going crazy or I am). I rarely read them, and I'm kind of glad I didn't in this case. Books like this one (and 1984) are compelling, but they freak me out to think of that as reality. Like panic attack freak out. Part of me wants to know how close this book is to real life Belarus, and part of me is a scared little girl that wants to shut away all the bad stuff.
So I liked this book just as much as I thought I would. There should have been a disclaimer though...the first line should have been "This book does not have a happy ending." I mean at a certain point you know that it won't, but the love story in there makes you hopeful. There were a few points that really caught me, that I want to point out:
There's a passage about the paranoia: "Sometimes things disappear at home, too. Not very important things but like...gadgets. A postcard from somebody. Or a shoehorn. It's a weird kind of awareness. An awareness of some sort of presence." It reminded me of a conversation I had with Diplomat Sister once about serving the US in communist countries. She said she knew people that did it and they would come home and the police or whomever would have been in their home. They would do things like use the toilet and not flush it...or I assume move/take small things like that. They wanted you to know that they'd been there, that they had access to you and your home and your things. It's such an eerie thought. But I guess that's the authoritarian government.
Next is a silly thing: pelmeni meat dumplings! He mentions them a couple of times and it kept making me smile because there's a pelmeni place in little Juneau! I had them for the first time a few weeks ago. Everybody said they're amazing drunk food; they weren't lying.
The last thing I want to point out about this book is that Martinovich had such rich descriptions. Here's one that I absolutely loved: "Then Bach diminished and faded like the last Gothic cross, like a glint of light in a stained-glass window, and Chopin began. He was like his name. His music bubbled with the foam of champagne spilling from a bottle, surging and flowing from side to side across the stage." I could actually picture the Chopin music; it was such a beautiful description. I could feel it. Other descriptions and thoughts were almost dizzy; almost like the paranoia was setting in for me.
Anyone who likes political thrillers should read this. It's amazing and he's such a vivid, deep writer. Just don't think to much about the reality of it.
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
196 Books: Barbados
Fire in the Canes by Glenville Lovell
Here's Barbados!
Here's Barbados!
Fun fact: Rihanna is from Barbados. Not so fun fact: it's been kind of slammed by Mother Nature lately.
Here's the summary!
A new arrival on a Caribbean island dominated by the cane fields, fifteen-year-old Midra falls under the spell of the island prince, whose African ancestry brings Midra a revelation from the ancient past. A first novel.
That doesn't say much. Here's the summary I read when I picked this book...or maybe it was the only one I could find. I dunno. Here it is anyway:
"Caribbean stories are often filled with magic and mysticism. Glenville Lovell immerses readers in all these elements in his debut novel, "Fires in the Canes". Lovell brings to life the sleepy West Indian village of Monkey Road, 50 years after the end of slavery. Peata, a sensual and fun-loving woman, arrives with her beautiful teenage daughter, Midra, which starts a chain of events that forever changes their lives and those of the villagers . . . Lovell spins an interesting story, one that will make you think about how one incident can change the future".--"USA Today".
Ok. This was a good, quick, fun read. Without giving too much away, I was not prepared for all of the mysticism. It was going along like a normal, everyday life story and then BOOM--ancestor spirits. I kind of got into it though. One thing I did have a really hard time with was picturing in my mind's eye that this was taking place in like the late 1800s. Especially with the women; I could not picture them in the long conservative dresses of the time. I think it was because there was a lot of sex and debauchery, and you hear about that time being really prudish. But I guess if you really think about it there's always been a lot of sex, it was just maybe kept under wraps or just not talked about. It was very open in the story (that may be a consequence of it being written in 1995 though) and there's a lot of nakedness that people just kind of shrug off.
I liked this book and I liked how it opened me up to a really different perspective on beliefs. I don't really have any ties to my past so the pride and love for the ancestors was neat.
This one is kind of short and rushed, I apologize...but I gotta get to work and I like to get this out before I start the next book! Kbye!
Friday, September 15, 2017
196 Books: Bangladesh
Liberation by Humayun Ahmed
Here we have Bangladesh, with bonus fun facts!
And synopsis, of course:
In this book, by means of an engrossing fictional story which skilfully incorporates various historical figures and many true incidents as well as the author's own personal experiences, fortified with excerpts from newspapers and other documents, Humayun Ahmed manages to produce a remarkably vivid and well balanced picture of the political events and bloody civil war which led to the emergence of Bangladesh as an independent state in 1971. No other work on the subject has the same breadth of vision or the same power to absorb and engage the reader. This is essential reading for anyone who wishes to explore the human reality behind the stark facts of the Bangladesh Liberation War. In the present translation Humayun Ahmed's highly accessible Bengali style has been recreated in modern colloquial English, making an easy read for Western readers. This edition also comprises explanatory notes to assist those unfamiliar with the cultural and historical background to the novel.
I was kind of nervous about this one because it was pretty long and the print was suuuper tiny, but it was a pretty good read so it wasn't so bad. Alright so it did take a while to read, but I also had parents' visits in there. Ok, you don't care. On to the book.
About 70 pages in I had a big shock. I'm reading along, and all of a sudden one of the characters says he's going to college at the State University of Moorhead, North Dakota. Holy shit! THAT'S WHERE I WENT TO COLLEGE. Well, kind of. It's actually Minnesota State University, Moorhead in (obvs) Minnesota. It turns out the author went to University of North Dakota in Fargo, which is right across from Moorhead. I kind of wonder if he did it wrong on purpose. It was weird, but also pretty cool; I'm reading this book about Bangladesh a world away and found a piece of my own life.
Next: war. In this book quest I keep reading stories about war. It's of course a huge part of history, but I find it equally fascinating and depressing. Although it has kind of gotten me wondering if I should start to look for books that focus more on the real history of a place instead of novels. This one also got me thinking about the crazy shit people do during war. How do people get turned into that? There was one part where someone was getting tortured...his torturer told him how that it doesn't work. And there have been studies that show the same thing: yes, people being tortured will say all sorts of things. But they'll say what they think the torturer wants to hear; whatever will make them stop. So why does it keep happening? I guess they just go completely insane.
Apart from the raping and pillaging and war shit, I really liked this book. There were some really interesting stories, even if I had a hard time keeping some of the names straight. I really only have one hangup with it: it had a happy ending. And then he was like oh, just kidding, everyone died. Ugh.
Here we have Bangladesh, with bonus fun facts!
And synopsis, of course:
In this book, by means of an engrossing fictional story which skilfully incorporates various historical figures and many true incidents as well as the author's own personal experiences, fortified with excerpts from newspapers and other documents, Humayun Ahmed manages to produce a remarkably vivid and well balanced picture of the political events and bloody civil war which led to the emergence of Bangladesh as an independent state in 1971. No other work on the subject has the same breadth of vision or the same power to absorb and engage the reader. This is essential reading for anyone who wishes to explore the human reality behind the stark facts of the Bangladesh Liberation War. In the present translation Humayun Ahmed's highly accessible Bengali style has been recreated in modern colloquial English, making an easy read for Western readers. This edition also comprises explanatory notes to assist those unfamiliar with the cultural and historical background to the novel.
I was kind of nervous about this one because it was pretty long and the print was suuuper tiny, but it was a pretty good read so it wasn't so bad. Alright so it did take a while to read, but I also had parents' visits in there. Ok, you don't care. On to the book.
About 70 pages in I had a big shock. I'm reading along, and all of a sudden one of the characters says he's going to college at the State University of Moorhead, North Dakota. Holy shit! THAT'S WHERE I WENT TO COLLEGE. Well, kind of. It's actually Minnesota State University, Moorhead in (obvs) Minnesota. It turns out the author went to University of North Dakota in Fargo, which is right across from Moorhead. I kind of wonder if he did it wrong on purpose. It was weird, but also pretty cool; I'm reading this book about Bangladesh a world away and found a piece of my own life.
Next: war. In this book quest I keep reading stories about war. It's of course a huge part of history, but I find it equally fascinating and depressing. Although it has kind of gotten me wondering if I should start to look for books that focus more on the real history of a place instead of novels. This one also got me thinking about the crazy shit people do during war. How do people get turned into that? There was one part where someone was getting tortured...his torturer told him how that it doesn't work. And there have been studies that show the same thing: yes, people being tortured will say all sorts of things. But they'll say what they think the torturer wants to hear; whatever will make them stop. So why does it keep happening? I guess they just go completely insane.
Apart from the raping and pillaging and war shit, I really liked this book. There were some really interesting stories, even if I had a hard time keeping some of the names straight. I really only have one hangup with it: it had a happy ending. And then he was like oh, just kidding, everyone died. Ugh.
Monday, August 14, 2017
House Guests
In laws
It's kind of funny that, at my age, I'm still having adulty firsts. But, after almost 2 years in Juneau, we had our first house guests: Soldier's parents. I knew it was going to be a little overwhelming for me; his family is all very animated, opinionated, and extroverted and I am very much not. But it turns out I might also just be a terrible hostess.
When I go to visit and stay at someone's house, one of my biggest priorities is to not interrupt their life. I don't want to be a burden or a pain and I want it to be as fun and easy as possible. I kind of assumed that everyone was like this. That is not the case. To be fair, we did have some fun, and some of the things that bothered me probably should have:
We made a trip to Costco and the in-laws bought enough food for a month, which meant my fridge was full to the brim, which gave me anxiety every time I opened it. Mom in law has just about every health issue known to man, but none of them seem to be entirely managed. This meant that going anywhere was a production and a large bag of food and various supplies and forms of entertainment always had to go along.
But the biggest thing that bothered me is mom in law would randomly clean things, mostly in the kitchen. I know, you now think I'm insane (if you didn't already). But here's the thing: many (most?) people would love to have a maid and a lot find a way to do it. I am not one of those people. I don't want someone who doesn't live with me to be going through my things, someone who doesn't know how I like things done or where things go. Does that make me weird or a control freak? Eh, maybe. And logically I know it shouldn't bother me because she just wants to help (I think), but it made me feel like she was trying to take over my home. It's like she wants to help but instead of asking what will be helpful, she just starts doing whatever and it stresses me out. Alright, I'll admit I might be a little crazy. I really tried to not let them know how much anxiety it was giving me, but I'm not sure I was successful.
And of course, now that they're gone, I feel guilty about not enjoying their visit more and not being more gracious. I also feel bad because I don't think I'm ever going to be close to Soldier's family. But on the other hand, maybe I just don't like people staying in my little apartment. My parents are coming to visit in a week, so I guess we'll find out.
It's kind of funny that, at my age, I'm still having adulty firsts. But, after almost 2 years in Juneau, we had our first house guests: Soldier's parents. I knew it was going to be a little overwhelming for me; his family is all very animated, opinionated, and extroverted and I am very much not. But it turns out I might also just be a terrible hostess.
When I go to visit and stay at someone's house, one of my biggest priorities is to not interrupt their life. I don't want to be a burden or a pain and I want it to be as fun and easy as possible. I kind of assumed that everyone was like this. That is not the case. To be fair, we did have some fun, and some of the things that bothered me probably should have:
We made a trip to Costco and the in-laws bought enough food for a month, which meant my fridge was full to the brim, which gave me anxiety every time I opened it. Mom in law has just about every health issue known to man, but none of them seem to be entirely managed. This meant that going anywhere was a production and a large bag of food and various supplies and forms of entertainment always had to go along.
But the biggest thing that bothered me is mom in law would randomly clean things, mostly in the kitchen. I know, you now think I'm insane (if you didn't already). But here's the thing: many (most?) people would love to have a maid and a lot find a way to do it. I am not one of those people. I don't want someone who doesn't live with me to be going through my things, someone who doesn't know how I like things done or where things go. Does that make me weird or a control freak? Eh, maybe. And logically I know it shouldn't bother me because she just wants to help (I think), but it made me feel like she was trying to take over my home. It's like she wants to help but instead of asking what will be helpful, she just starts doing whatever and it stresses me out. Alright, I'll admit I might be a little crazy. I really tried to not let them know how much anxiety it was giving me, but I'm not sure I was successful.
And of course, now that they're gone, I feel guilty about not enjoying their visit more and not being more gracious. I also feel bad because I don't think I'm ever going to be close to Soldier's family. But on the other hand, maybe I just don't like people staying in my little apartment. My parents are coming to visit in a week, so I guess we'll find out.
Friday, July 28, 2017
196 Books: Bahrain
Yummah by Sarah A. Al Shafei
Bahrain is this little guy:
Um, I don't know that Bahrain is actually a little guy. Upon further research, it has over 1.2 million people. I'll be honest, I don't really know if that's little or not. I'm just gonna stick with that little guy. I like it.
So here's the description:
Khadeeja is a child who is forced into womanhood early. She is compelled to marry a man much older than she through arranged marriage and lives a world of hardships from then on. Her mother dies soon after her wedding, leaving her with a husband she hardly knows and two brothers she knows nothing of. Khadeeja learns to love her husband and win his love in return, but just as she thought her life was a beautiful love story her precious son dies from a scorpion bite. Grief and sadness become her new best friends. Her husband, whom she can't live without, abandons her without warning and she is left to raise and support eight children while pregnant with the ninth. Her brother, who finds out about his sister's misfortune and the truth behind his brother-in-law's actions, returns to Bahrain to take care of Khadeeja, but when he finds out about his cheating wife falls ill with sadness and grief and soon dies. Khadeeja forces herself to survive with the faith and patience she has inherited from her late mother and faces life's war with strength, courage and pride. She grows with her children; she grows with time; she grows with history - her country's history. She succeeds in raising wonderful children who go through their own share of happiness and misfortune. Her husband, who married another woman for money, returns filled with regret and in a wheelchair. Though Khadeeja was hurt and angry she opens her arms for him with love and forgiveness, but watching him die in her arms takes her back in time as she goes through the grief all over again. As a great-grandmother Khadeeja sits back to watch her triumph, her success and dies with dignity, leaving behind a legend to be remembered by many.
You may read that synopsis and think that it gives you the whole book, but it's misleading. *I'll try to weed out the incorrect parts without giving too much away.*
But let me start with: Wahoo! I finished this one in less than a week! Was it super long? No. Under 200 pages. Was it a difficult read? No. Almost childlike in its simplicity. Was it engaging? Yes. Fantastic story.
Ok. So yes, she goes into an arranged marriage at 12, but she's *totally in love* from the first day. Which, I gotta say, annoyed me a little. Partly because of my bias against arranged marriage, partly because the description makes it sound otherwise, and partly because twelve.
But, whatever. So when her mom dies (spoiler) she's just found out she's pregnant. So yeah it's obviously not an easy thing, but she has her husband who she loves and loves her, and the new baby that she's very excited about. So it makes it sound worse. It doesn't get really bad for her until her husband leaves. Although, I guess I can't really say that. I mean she was obviously a child when she had to become a wife and mother so that's gotta mess up your head. And she has a doll that's legit her best friend. So, psychologically (or social workologically!) I think you could probably make a case that she's pretty much mentally stuck at 12.
Honestly, it was a really good story and a fast read. There were just a few things that were hangups though. I imagine it was the translation, but it wasn't great...there were quite a few grammatical errors and a lot of missing commas. The language seemed very modern and western, but that could be my ignorance. It doesn't reference a time frame for quite a while so I'm guessing it begins in maybe the 1940s or '50s...I originally imagined it much earlier. But the actual story line really hooked me. It went in depth with this family and was pretty easy to follow. I also loved that there would be a foreign word for something and the author described what it was so it was easier for me to imagine the setting.
Some of the books on this around the world quest are kind of hard to find, and *I think* this was one I had to search for a bit. I might be making that up, but it sounds right. All I have to go on is the description so they're not all hits, but this one was definitely worth it. It's re-energized my enthusiasm for this challenge and I'm excited to start the next book. Even though I don't remember what anything about it. So...onward!
Bahrain is this little guy:
Um, I don't know that Bahrain is actually a little guy. Upon further research, it has over 1.2 million people. I'll be honest, I don't really know if that's little or not. I'm just gonna stick with that little guy. I like it.
So here's the description:
Khadeeja is a child who is forced into womanhood early. She is compelled to marry a man much older than she through arranged marriage and lives a world of hardships from then on. Her mother dies soon after her wedding, leaving her with a husband she hardly knows and two brothers she knows nothing of. Khadeeja learns to love her husband and win his love in return, but just as she thought her life was a beautiful love story her precious son dies from a scorpion bite. Grief and sadness become her new best friends. Her husband, whom she can't live without, abandons her without warning and she is left to raise and support eight children while pregnant with the ninth. Her brother, who finds out about his sister's misfortune and the truth behind his brother-in-law's actions, returns to Bahrain to take care of Khadeeja, but when he finds out about his cheating wife falls ill with sadness and grief and soon dies. Khadeeja forces herself to survive with the faith and patience she has inherited from her late mother and faces life's war with strength, courage and pride. She grows with her children; she grows with time; she grows with history - her country's history. She succeeds in raising wonderful children who go through their own share of happiness and misfortune. Her husband, who married another woman for money, returns filled with regret and in a wheelchair. Though Khadeeja was hurt and angry she opens her arms for him with love and forgiveness, but watching him die in her arms takes her back in time as she goes through the grief all over again. As a great-grandmother Khadeeja sits back to watch her triumph, her success and dies with dignity, leaving behind a legend to be remembered by many.
You may read that synopsis and think that it gives you the whole book, but it's misleading. *I'll try to weed out the incorrect parts without giving too much away.*
But let me start with: Wahoo! I finished this one in less than a week! Was it super long? No. Under 200 pages. Was it a difficult read? No. Almost childlike in its simplicity. Was it engaging? Yes. Fantastic story.
Ok. So yes, she goes into an arranged marriage at 12, but she's *totally in love* from the first day. Which, I gotta say, annoyed me a little. Partly because of my bias against arranged marriage, partly because the description makes it sound otherwise, and partly because twelve.
But, whatever. So when her mom dies (spoiler) she's just found out she's pregnant. So yeah it's obviously not an easy thing, but she has her husband who she loves and loves her, and the new baby that she's very excited about. So it makes it sound worse. It doesn't get really bad for her until her husband leaves. Although, I guess I can't really say that. I mean she was obviously a child when she had to become a wife and mother so that's gotta mess up your head. And she has a doll that's legit her best friend. So, psychologically (or social workologically!) I think you could probably make a case that she's pretty much mentally stuck at 12.
Honestly, it was a really good story and a fast read. There were just a few things that were hangups though. I imagine it was the translation, but it wasn't great...there were quite a few grammatical errors and a lot of missing commas. The language seemed very modern and western, but that could be my ignorance. It doesn't reference a time frame for quite a while so I'm guessing it begins in maybe the 1940s or '50s...I originally imagined it much earlier. But the actual story line really hooked me. It went in depth with this family and was pretty easy to follow. I also loved that there would be a foreign word for something and the author described what it was so it was easier for me to imagine the setting.
Some of the books on this around the world quest are kind of hard to find, and *I think* this was one I had to search for a bit. I might be making that up, but it sounds right. All I have to go on is the description so they're not all hits, but this one was definitely worth it. It's re-energized my enthusiasm for this challenge and I'm excited to start the next book. Even though I don't remember what anything about it. So...onward!
Saturday, July 22, 2017
196 Books: The Bahamas
God's Angry Babies by Ian G. Strachan
You know the drill by now. Map of The Bahamas:
And book description:
This coming-of-age novel, by the Bahamanian writer, traces the lives of Tree Bodie and his three brothers as they grow up in the streets of Pompey Village, an area of extreme poverty hidden from the tourists who populate the luxury hotels. Creole conversation lends a distinct flavour.
I'd hoped to have this finished before I went on my trip to LA but didn't quite make it. Oh wellsies.
This was a pretty good read once I got the hang of it. It took a little bit because it went back and forth between "present" time and the main character's childhood. Also that Creole conversation was really freaking hard to understand. Luckily there's a glossary in the back for some of the really local words.
It was interesting because the author set this book during political upheaval. I don't know if any of that is based in fact but, if it wasn't, he's really good at bullshitting. It seemed very much like it could have been real; you had politicians who were corrupt and leeching off the citizens, and the people who were sick of their tax money being used for politician's personal gains. There was also discord between Tree and his mom; Mama supported the existing party and Tree (though he got blackmailed into working for them) did not. Oops, that may have needed a spoiler alert.
So I guess my only hangup with this book was having a hard time with the Creole. I would say if you're better than I am at interpreting it you should definitely read this.
So now I'm officially into the B countries, which I'm glad about, and I'll really try to read them faster. In other news, which I'm positive you've noticed, I don't know how to write book reviews. I'm bad at them and I feel bad. But read them anyway. K byeee!
You know the drill by now. Map of The Bahamas:
And book description:
This coming-of-age novel, by the Bahamanian writer, traces the lives of Tree Bodie and his three brothers as they grow up in the streets of Pompey Village, an area of extreme poverty hidden from the tourists who populate the luxury hotels. Creole conversation lends a distinct flavour.
I'd hoped to have this finished before I went on my trip to LA but didn't quite make it. Oh wellsies.
This was a pretty good read once I got the hang of it. It took a little bit because it went back and forth between "present" time and the main character's childhood. Also that Creole conversation was really freaking hard to understand. Luckily there's a glossary in the back for some of the really local words.
It was interesting because the author set this book during political upheaval. I don't know if any of that is based in fact but, if it wasn't, he's really good at bullshitting. It seemed very much like it could have been real; you had politicians who were corrupt and leeching off the citizens, and the people who were sick of their tax money being used for politician's personal gains. There was also discord between Tree and his mom; Mama supported the existing party and Tree (though he got blackmailed into working for them) did not. Oops, that may have needed a spoiler alert.
So I guess my only hangup with this book was having a hard time with the Creole. I would say if you're better than I am at interpreting it you should definitely read this.
So now I'm officially into the B countries, which I'm glad about, and I'll really try to read them faster. In other news, which I'm positive you've noticed, I don't know how to write book reviews. I'm bad at them and I feel bad. But read them anyway. K byeee!
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
LA All Day
All five and a half days, to be exact.
I know I haven't posted anything about life in quite some time; that's because it would mostly just be me whining. But I had a bright spot with with a trip down to one of my favorite places to see some of my favorite people.
The second I stepped outside LAX was a relief. Actual summer. Let me back up at this point to describe the shit weather this year has been. There was a day that I was at my limit, and it was actually a really nice day. I broke down multiple times and finally ended up calling Sister to see if I could visit, and ended up ordering tickets the next day. That nice day was June 18. The next sun we got was July 5. That's over two weeks of gray, rainy, dreary, cold crap. So just imagine my delight at the heat, humidity, and sunshine! If you can't imagine it, I was pretty fucking delighted. Sister picked me up and we talked all about what was going on in our lives and she told me about a new business project Brother-in-Law (BIL) has and what Little Princess (my niece) has been up to.
When we got to the house I was so excited to see my Little Princess! I'm pretty sure she's the most beautiful, quirky, just cool kid on the planet. I also promptly grabbed a beer and made a beeline for the pool. Little Princess joined me and blew up a 2 person float for us to share. Sister came out and worked in the yard and we all just caught up, and Little Princess and I planned our trip to Harry Potter Land for the next day. (Yes I'm aware that's not the actual name of it, it's just fun to say.) When we were ready to get out LP promptly flipped the float over for me to fall out. Jerk.
The next day LP and I headed out around 10:30, so by the time we got to the park it was pretty crowded. Once we could see the entrance to the HP section, she linked arms with me so we could walk in together very closely.
Oh my word. It was so fantastic and (I think) Hollywood has the smallest one...I can't even imagine how amazing the London version must be. We started with the Forbidden Journey (or whatever) ride and stood in line, in direct sun, for basically forever. My stupid knee was swelling and looking gross, and eventually LP decided she'd had enough (good with me). Off we went to the Three Broomsticks for food and Butterbeer. It also didn't suck to sit down for a bit. Also, the food was really good! We shared the Lemon Roast Chicken, so I recommend it if you go. The Butterbeer took a little getting used to since I'm not huge on butterscotch, but it was pretty refreshing.
After eating we both felt better and went into the shops, Ollivanders, Gladrags, Wiseacre's, Dervish & Banges, the Owl Post, Zonko's, Honeydukes. I was going to get my (official Pottermore...yeah, I went there) wand but I was a little disappointed that they're just plastic. Maybe I was being a little naive, but I was hoping they'd be made of actual wood. I may have been a little more forgiving if it hadn't been completely packed in the store. We checked out the demonstrations of the singing frogs and students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons too.
We decided to try for the Forbidden Journey again and ,again, stood in line for basically forever. TOTALLY WORTH IT. (Warning: there may be spoilers ahead.) Just outside the castle you go through the Greenhouse and there's a case of Mandrakes (LP said they scream at some point). Going through the castle the paintings talk and you end up in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. In there, Ron, Hermione, and Harry talk to you and tell you to meet them in the Room of Requirement, which is where the actual roller coaster ride starts. I think there were only two or three actual rooms it takes you through and the rest is a screen, but it's AWESOME. Dragons, spiders (I had to close my eyes), flying, and traveling all over the castle. SO cool.
By the time we got home, I had a super wicked headache. It got worse and worse and started making me feel sick. And then I was sick. Like really really sick. And then I laid down for a little bit and then I was ready to party! Instead, Sister and LP and I watched The Pirates of Penzance...just as good if not better than partying.
Next day...I mostly spent hanging out with Sis and floating in the pool. That night Sis and BIL had a gig. I always forget how out of place I feel at those things. And also super jealous of what they do. It makes me wonder if I had actually tried in music if I could have gotten anywhere. Eh, probably not. It was also LP's 15th birthday. She hung out and celebrated for a little bit, and I had a lot of fun with her.
Saturday and Sunday LP had a horse show; she does barrel racing. Man that kid is awesome! She won some stuff. It was also really cool for the extra time I had to hang out with Sis and BIL on the drives in and out. Saturday night I also had the night with LP. It was a lovely time of dinner, froyo, and a movie. She's so cool. Sunday night I talked LP and Sis into letting me take them to dinner before more hanging out.
Monday morning LP and I got up early to do some shopping, and then we all had to pack for flights. I did not want to come back...I actually cried a little in Seattle.
So then it was back to dreary rain and stupid Juneau. Ok fine it wasn't the worst to see Soldier again. But whatever. Moral of the story: Juneau is the worst and LA is always fun. The end.
I know I haven't posted anything about life in quite some time; that's because it would mostly just be me whining. But I had a bright spot with with a trip down to one of my favorite places to see some of my favorite people.
The second I stepped outside LAX was a relief. Actual summer. Let me back up at this point to describe the shit weather this year has been. There was a day that I was at my limit, and it was actually a really nice day. I broke down multiple times and finally ended up calling Sister to see if I could visit, and ended up ordering tickets the next day. That nice day was June 18. The next sun we got was July 5. That's over two weeks of gray, rainy, dreary, cold crap. So just imagine my delight at the heat, humidity, and sunshine! If you can't imagine it, I was pretty fucking delighted. Sister picked me up and we talked all about what was going on in our lives and she told me about a new business project Brother-in-Law (BIL) has and what Little Princess (my niece) has been up to.
When we got to the house I was so excited to see my Little Princess! I'm pretty sure she's the most beautiful, quirky, just cool kid on the planet. I also promptly grabbed a beer and made a beeline for the pool. Little Princess joined me and blew up a 2 person float for us to share. Sister came out and worked in the yard and we all just caught up, and Little Princess and I planned our trip to Harry Potter Land for the next day. (Yes I'm aware that's not the actual name of it, it's just fun to say.) When we were ready to get out LP promptly flipped the float over for me to fall out. Jerk.
The next day LP and I headed out around 10:30, so by the time we got to the park it was pretty crowded. Once we could see the entrance to the HP section, she linked arms with me so we could walk in together very closely.
Oh my word. It was so fantastic and (I think) Hollywood has the smallest one...I can't even imagine how amazing the London version must be. We started with the Forbidden Journey (or whatever) ride and stood in line, in direct sun, for basically forever. My stupid knee was swelling and looking gross, and eventually LP decided she'd had enough (good with me). Off we went to the Three Broomsticks for food and Butterbeer. It also didn't suck to sit down for a bit. Also, the food was really good! We shared the Lemon Roast Chicken, so I recommend it if you go. The Butterbeer took a little getting used to since I'm not huge on butterscotch, but it was pretty refreshing.
After eating we both felt better and went into the shops, Ollivanders, Gladrags, Wiseacre's, Dervish & Banges, the Owl Post, Zonko's, Honeydukes. I was going to get my (official Pottermore...yeah, I went there) wand but I was a little disappointed that they're just plastic. Maybe I was being a little naive, but I was hoping they'd be made of actual wood. I may have been a little more forgiving if it hadn't been completely packed in the store. We checked out the demonstrations of the singing frogs and students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons too.
We decided to try for the Forbidden Journey again and ,again, stood in line for basically forever. TOTALLY WORTH IT. (Warning: there may be spoilers ahead.) Just outside the castle you go through the Greenhouse and there's a case of Mandrakes (LP said they scream at some point). Going through the castle the paintings talk and you end up in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. In there, Ron, Hermione, and Harry talk to you and tell you to meet them in the Room of Requirement, which is where the actual roller coaster ride starts. I think there were only two or three actual rooms it takes you through and the rest is a screen, but it's AWESOME. Dragons, spiders (I had to close my eyes), flying, and traveling all over the castle. SO cool.
By the time we got home, I had a super wicked headache. It got worse and worse and started making me feel sick. And then I was sick. Like really really sick. And then I laid down for a little bit and then I was ready to party! Instead, Sister and LP and I watched The Pirates of Penzance...just as good if not better than partying.
Next day...I mostly spent hanging out with Sis and floating in the pool. That night Sis and BIL had a gig. I always forget how out of place I feel at those things. And also super jealous of what they do. It makes me wonder if I had actually tried in music if I could have gotten anywhere. Eh, probably not. It was also LP's 15th birthday. She hung out and celebrated for a little bit, and I had a lot of fun with her.
Saturday and Sunday LP had a horse show; she does barrel racing. Man that kid is awesome! She won some stuff. It was also really cool for the extra time I had to hang out with Sis and BIL on the drives in and out. Saturday night I also had the night with LP. It was a lovely time of dinner, froyo, and a movie. She's so cool. Sunday night I talked LP and Sis into letting me take them to dinner before more hanging out.
Monday morning LP and I got up early to do some shopping, and then we all had to pack for flights. I did not want to come back...I actually cried a little in Seattle.
So then it was back to dreary rain and stupid Juneau. Ok fine it wasn't the worst to see Soldier again. But whatever. Moral of the story: Juneau is the worst and LA is always fun. The end.
Saturday, June 3, 2017
196 Books: Azerbaijan
Ali and Nino by Kurban Said
Azerbaijan is here:
Also 10 points to me for being able to spell Azerbaijan correctly, with no spell check! And as always, here's the synopsis:
It has been hailed as one of the most romantic epic novels of all time. Ali and Nino, two lovers from vastly different backgrounds, grow up together in carefree innocence in Baku on the Caspian Sea. Here, where Eastern and Occidental collide, they are inevitably drawn into the events of the First World War and the Russian Revolution. Torn apart by the turmoil, Ali joins the defense of Azerbajan from the onslaught of the Red Army, and Nino flees to the safety of Paris with their child, not knowing whether they will ever see each other again. A sweeping tale, as romantic and gripping as Gone with the Wind or Dr. Zhivago, it portrays, against a gloriously exotic backdrop, the enduring love between childhood friends divided by their separate cultures.
So trying not to give away too many spoilers, the big issue is that Ali is Muslim and Nino is Christian. This is more of a problem for Ali because he thinks "nonbelievers" are dirty and wrong.
I did really like this story, though there were some parts that made me irate. It was super sexist and, since written from Ali's POV, Christians were the worst. Like it was real fun when Nino got kidnapped and it was expected that Ali kill both the kidnapper and the kidnappee. Because that makes lots of sense.
Also this part: "a man must marry, preferably the woman he likes. She need not like him in return." Then it went on to say that women have neither souls or intelligence, and they're only use is having children. So...neat.
There was also the innate and expected hatred for Armenians, which was really interesting after reading Armenian Golgotha. At one point Ali concedes that it doesn't really make sense for them to hate these people just for existing so that's better than nothing.
The love story, in fact, was really beautiful and innocent. It was basically just two kids so incredibly devoted to each other no matter what.
This book concludes the A countries, even though they took me quite a long time to finish. I'll try to get back on track and do better with the rest of them. On to the Bs!
Sunday, May 14, 2017
196 Books: Austria
The Torch in My Ear by Elias Canetti
It took me for-freaking-ever to read this book. The obligatory description, then I'll get into why.
This is the second volume of Elias Canetti's autobiography. It is above all else an account of his admiration for the first great mentor of his adult years, the Viennese writer Karl Kraus. It is also a portrait of Canetti's first wife, Veza. Within the framework of these great passions, Canetti provides an account of the Vienna and Berlin of the 1920s.
In defense of the book, I didn't read the first one. In all honesty, I'm not sure it would have made a difference for me. There were a lot of narrative points that I really liked--it was an entirely different time and almost seemed like a different planet. Overall though, it was a little too philosophical for me. I kept finding myself reading things that went in one ear and out the other.
On the not-so-great side, he kept referencing the previous book in ways that seemed useless to me. He would talk about some small encounter that not having known it didn't take anything away from the book. That sentence was really weird. It also jumped around between Vienna and Berlin which kind of bothered me for my project.
On the positive side, his work and fascination on crowds was neat. There were a lot of points that I never thought of and wouldn't have otherwise. The way he described famous writers and poets was interesting; I had no idea who any of them were but I imagine at the time they were very famous. I wonder if all our celebrities will be like that in 100 years. Probably. He used many big words that I didn't know and that made me feel stupid! There was a line I particularly loved: "respect for others begins with not ignoring their words."
This book was...I dunno. I don't have a lot to say about it, which makes for a short "review." I'm sorry guys, I've been super distracted and this book didn't entirely penetrate through the haze.
I promise I'll try to do better, and here's hoping for better luck next time. I've taken on this project and I'm not doing very well; I'm taking way too long. I am trying. I guess that's the best I can do.
And now, onward to another country and another adventure.
It took me for-freaking-ever to read this book. The obligatory description, then I'll get into why.
This is the second volume of Elias Canetti's autobiography. It is above all else an account of his admiration for the first great mentor of his adult years, the Viennese writer Karl Kraus. It is also a portrait of Canetti's first wife, Veza. Within the framework of these great passions, Canetti provides an account of the Vienna and Berlin of the 1920s.
In defense of the book, I didn't read the first one. In all honesty, I'm not sure it would have made a difference for me. There were a lot of narrative points that I really liked--it was an entirely different time and almost seemed like a different planet. Overall though, it was a little too philosophical for me. I kept finding myself reading things that went in one ear and out the other.
On the not-so-great side, he kept referencing the previous book in ways that seemed useless to me. He would talk about some small encounter that not having known it didn't take anything away from the book. That sentence was really weird. It also jumped around between Vienna and Berlin which kind of bothered me for my project.
On the positive side, his work and fascination on crowds was neat. There were a lot of points that I never thought of and wouldn't have otherwise. The way he described famous writers and poets was interesting; I had no idea who any of them were but I imagine at the time they were very famous. I wonder if all our celebrities will be like that in 100 years. Probably. He used many big words that I didn't know and that made me feel stupid! There was a line I particularly loved: "respect for others begins with not ignoring their words."
This book was...I dunno. I don't have a lot to say about it, which makes for a short "review." I'm sorry guys, I've been super distracted and this book didn't entirely penetrate through the haze.
I promise I'll try to do better, and here's hoping for better luck next time. I've taken on this project and I'm not doing very well; I'm taking way too long. I am trying. I guess that's the best I can do.
And now, onward to another country and another adventure.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Desolation
Lost
Historically, at this time of the year, I get really restless. Every few years or so that restlessness compounds into a rather severe depression...and this is one of those years.
I've been in a sort of funk for months, I don't feel like there's anything to be excited about. I know I'll get through it but it sure sucks for now.
Poor Soldier puts up with a lot from me. I'm rather neurotic, pretty type A, and it doesn't take much to annoy me. Not that he's perfect either, but I know I'm not easy. Our personalities are basically polar opposites...in a lot of ways we complement each other, but in some ways we just butt heads. One of these ways is that Soldier is a night owl. I'm pretty much always tired, especially since I've stopped taking my narcolepsy meds. He'll want to stay up later than me and I hate it because he'll stay up till 2 or 3 and I'll have to get up and ask him to come to bed and then I'm mad and can't sleep. I like having him there.
So yesterday he'd taken a nap and didn't want to go to bed when I did. Such a little thing but it bothered me and I got upset. We argued a bit and I ended up standing at the bathroom mirror crying. We argued a bit more and I told him it wasn't working. I'm embarrassed to tell you it's not the first time I've said that. I just get overwhelmed with our differences and how he doesn't always seem to make an effort (though I'm not entirely sure I always do either). He left.
Then he came back. He did something unexpected: he came back in, wrapped his arms around me, and said we'd get through it together.
That's the first time he's said something like that; I just held onto him and cried. It seemed like he finally got that I haven't been intending to be a bitch; I've been feeling so empty and alone that it makes me crazy and irrational.
It felt good to have him actually tell me he was sticking with me despite the difficulty...that he's choosing us. It makes things a little more hopeful.
Hopefully things will start to get better with the warmer weather and perking up of the city, and I'll have more adventures and fun stories to tell you soon.
Don't forget about me, little chickadees. I'm still here.
Historically, at this time of the year, I get really restless. Every few years or so that restlessness compounds into a rather severe depression...and this is one of those years.
I've been in a sort of funk for months, I don't feel like there's anything to be excited about. I know I'll get through it but it sure sucks for now.
Poor Soldier puts up with a lot from me. I'm rather neurotic, pretty type A, and it doesn't take much to annoy me. Not that he's perfect either, but I know I'm not easy. Our personalities are basically polar opposites...in a lot of ways we complement each other, but in some ways we just butt heads. One of these ways is that Soldier is a night owl. I'm pretty much always tired, especially since I've stopped taking my narcolepsy meds. He'll want to stay up later than me and I hate it because he'll stay up till 2 or 3 and I'll have to get up and ask him to come to bed and then I'm mad and can't sleep. I like having him there.
So yesterday he'd taken a nap and didn't want to go to bed when I did. Such a little thing but it bothered me and I got upset. We argued a bit and I ended up standing at the bathroom mirror crying. We argued a bit more and I told him it wasn't working. I'm embarrassed to tell you it's not the first time I've said that. I just get overwhelmed with our differences and how he doesn't always seem to make an effort (though I'm not entirely sure I always do either). He left.
Then he came back. He did something unexpected: he came back in, wrapped his arms around me, and said we'd get through it together.
That's the first time he's said something like that; I just held onto him and cried. It seemed like he finally got that I haven't been intending to be a bitch; I've been feeling so empty and alone that it makes me crazy and irrational.
It felt good to have him actually tell me he was sticking with me despite the difficulty...that he's choosing us. It makes things a little more hopeful.
Hopefully things will start to get better with the warmer weather and perking up of the city, and I'll have more adventures and fun stories to tell you soon.
Don't forget about me, little chickadees. I'm still here.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Alternative Medicine
Alternative reality
What is it about medical issues that make people think they should give you their opinion, and that you want to get it? And when you don't show much interest, to push it even more? This is not a new issue, but one that has come up yet again.
A coworker was recently telling me about working out on the lunch hour, then asked if I work out. I explained that I used to, but due to my autoimmune stuff there's now a lot of working out I'm not supposed to do. I then got the now-familiar start of "have you thought about changing your diet?" It now takes everything I have to control the full-body-eye-roll reaction when I hear those words.
Then came the suggestion to cut out sugar, alcohol, processed food, red meat, dairy, gluten, rainbows, sunshine, puppies, and children's laughter. And I had to politely explain, and re-explain, and explain three more times that I don't believe my diet is the problem, I'm not interested in changing it, and my disease is relatively controlled. Even if changing my diet would get rid of the autoimmune, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't restore the damage my knees have already sustained.
But of course this is because of a mistrust of doctors.They just "have a thing" about doctors. You know, doctors who have gone through so many hoops and years and become experts in their field...but please, tell me how the doctor is less credible than the Gluten Free Crunchy Mom blog you read.
The sad part is I've gotten into some pretty big arguments with friends over this topic. Yes, I do understand that they care about me and want to help...but I didn't ask nor am I interested in it. And when I say thank you but no thank you, shouldn't that be enough? Yes. It should.
I have a hard time balancing between being polite, assertive, and just really fucking done with the conversation.
Okay, I know for a lot of people diet makes a huge difference, and there is a lot of validity to changing it. Should I make more of an effort to eat better? Probably. But you know what? I'm lazy. I am making an effort to be healthier. But I don't want to be monitoring every little thing I eat or having to make special meals 100% of the time. I like sugar. Like, I really really like sugar. And I like booze and going out to eat and carbs. That's not to say I don't make any effort to eat slightly less terribly; I do. But I'm also not about to cut random things out of my diet. It will not make me invincible, and there's almost a certainty it would make me miserable and bitchy.
Whew, I forgot how good I am at ranting and bitching...so I'll just continue!
Another fun thing happening around the office is the joke of pregnancy predictions. I'm tired. Are you pregnant? I like food. You must be pregnant. I forgot what I came in here for. Oh! Pregnancy brain!
Oooor I'm just a regular fucking human being! Plus, if I was pregnant, wouldn't it be better to wait till I deemed it appropriate to announce that instead of putting me in some awkward position where I either have to lie or divulge life-changing news before I'm ready? Rude.
Okay. This kind of makes me think of one of the few YouTube personalitities I watch multiple videos of...he has a new (I think) one about how to be offended. Sometimes I feel like I fit in there...like maybe I'm not taking the joke or something. But this one does really bug me.
Maybe the next time someone has a headache I'll nudge them playfully and say "Uh oh, you must have a brain tumor!" with a knowing wink.
Saturday, February 4, 2017
196 Books: Australia
The Road from Coorain by Jill Kerr Conway
Hey. Did anyone notice that I've been putting 169 books when it actually should have been 196? Did you notice that and not tell me? Ruuuude. I mean, did I have it right on any of them? Color me foolish.
We'll get to the book though. No bullet points this time.
You should know where Australia is. It's its own continent. But here it is.
And the obligatory description of the book.
Hey. Did anyone notice that I've been putting 169 books when it actually should have been 196? Did you notice that and not tell me? Ruuuude. I mean, did I have it right on any of them? Color me foolish.
We'll get to the book though. No bullet points this time.
You should know where Australia is. It's its own continent. But here it is.
And the obligatory description of the book.
In a memoir that pierces and delights us, Jill Ker Conway tells the story of her astonishing journey into adulthood—a journey that would ultimately span immense distances and encompass worlds, ideas, and ways of life that seem a century apart.
She was seven before she ever saw another girl child. At eight, still too small to mount her horse unaided, she was galloping miles, alone, across Coorain, her parents' thirty thousand windswept, drought-haunted acres in the Australian outback, doing a "man's job" of helping herd the sheep because World War II had taken away the able-bodied men. She loved (and makes us see and feel) the vast unpeopled landscape, beautiful and hostile, whose uncertain weathers tormented the sheep ranchers with conflicting promises of riches and inescapable disaster. She adored (and makes us know) her large-visioned father and her strong, radiant mother, who had gone willingly with him into a pioneering life of loneliness and bone-breaking toil, who seemed miraculously to succeed in creating a warmly sheltering home in the harsh outback, and who, upon her husband's sudden death when Jill was ten, began to slide—bereft of the partnership of work and love that had so utterly fulfilled her—into depression and dependency.
We see Jill, staggered by the loss of her father, catapulted to what seemed another planet—the suburban Sydney of the 1950s and its crowded, noisy, cliquish school life. Then the heady excitement of the University, but with it a yet more demanding course of lessons—Jill embracing new ideas, new possibilities, while at the same time trying to be mother to her mother and resenting it, escaping into drink, pulling herself back, striking a balance. We see her slowly gaining strength, coming into her own emotionally and intellectually and beginning the joyous love affair that gave wings to her newfound self.
I liked this book. It had a bit of an ebb and flow; some parts I was really excited to read and some were a little meh. But it was really cool to read about life raising sheep and the ups and downs of trying to make a living in the bush.
There was a point that kind of bothered me. She didn't get a high ranking job because she's a woman and she said she now understood how the natives and Aborigines felt having everything taken from them. I thought that was overstepping just a little bit.
I kind of wish she'd been able to dig a bit deeper. She wrote quite a bit about the stoicism that's taught growing up in Australia; that combined with her training as a historian made it a little superficial for me. Granted, it was obvious she broke out of that emotional black hole as she got older.
The best thing I can say about this book is that, though this story worked perfectly for the purpose of my little "project," it left me wanting more.
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