A Gentleman in Moscow

 A Gentleman in Moscow

By Armor Towles

It is 1922, and the Bolsheviks have just defeated the czar. One of their first tasks? Weed out the aristocrats
who had once propped up and benefited from imperial rule. Enter Alexander Rostov -- make that Count Alexander Rostov -- who, appearing before a Bolshevik tribunal, is jovially and stubbornly unrepentant about his station in life. Asked what his job is, for example, he replies, "It is not the business's of gentleman to have jobs." Right. It appears he is heading for the firing squad. But apparently, he penned a revolutionary-minded poem in the early days of the Bolshevik's struggle that had garnered widespread attention and made Rostov something of a hero. Never mind that he didn't actually write it, something the reader finds out well into the book, it is enough to spare Rostov's life. 

Kind of. He is henceforth banished to the Metropol hotel in Moscow, where he had kept rooms as a permanent lodger for some time. It seems a pretty light sentence, given the luxury in which he lived. But then he is forced out of his rooms, where some of his family's antiques remain, and forced into former servants quarters on the abandoned sixth floor. 

For a time, it seems a dreadful sentence, one worse, perhaps, than death. In fact, the Count, after a decade or so, appears ready to reverse the tribunal's benevolence with his own hand. But he doesn't. Instead, he builds a life within the hotel. Most significantly, he befriends a little girl, Nina, who shows him the hotel's secrets and, with it, the secrets of the lives who occupy it. Through Nina, the Count builds real friendships. His escapades for a time nearly always result in his pants splitting, which leads to a friendship with the hotel's seamstress, Nina. He applies his skills as a gentleman to a waiting position at the hotel's fine restaurant, which brings him close to the chef, Emile, and matre d. And, finally, Nina, grown and married, comes to him in a panic many decades into his stay, gives him what proves to be his most meaningful relationship of all: a daughter. Her husband has been sent to a gulag, and she is following. Would he please watch little Sofia and until her return? He has no choice but to say yes. And then, when Nina never returns, to continue to say yes for the rest of his life.

For most of the novel, there is little plot here. We follow the history of the revolution seen from the eyes of one who does not live its harshest results. Though technically confined, Rostov is, as someone points out, the luckiest man in Russia. Along the way, the Count engages in conversations on philosophy and metaphysics. But Towles writes in a snappy way that keeps the reader engrossed, and the Count becomes something of a friend. He is as charming to the reader as he is to his fellow guests. The point/message/moral? Not exactly sure, but perhaps it is something like Thoreau's famous quip, "I have traveled a great deal in Concord." That is, there is far more of interest right under our noses if we only care to look.

The book changes tenor in its final chapters, though, as Sophia gains notoriety as a talented pianist and the Count plans a daring Paris escape to the American embassy for her. Where the count ends up, though, is something of a mystery. He leaves the hotel, we know that. But the final scene has him back in his hometown outside St. Petersburg. Has he become a "free" man? 

My Brilliant Friend

 My Brilliant Friend

By Elena Ferrante

Been having a bit of a hard time finding books that engross me the way I need them to this time of year, so I

turned to the New York Times and its list of the "100 Greatest Novels of the 21st Century So Far" for help. This book topped the list, and its praised all sorts of other places, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

It's essentially a coming-of-age story set in Naples, Italy, a decade or so after the end of World War II. There are two main characters, Linu and Lila, whose lives and identities become intertwined. The friendship has a strange start with Lila throwing Linu's beloved doll down what is essentially a sewer drain and Linu reciprocating. Both girls are distraught and forge a bond in their feelings and in their shared adventurous attempt to rescue the toys. 

The girls become inseparable, but, over time, their lives start to diverge as both seek different pathways to a life outside of their small, stultifying, and sometimes violent neighborhood within Naples. Linu is the first to physically leave, securing a spot at a high school near the downtown after earning high marks in middle school. Her first trip outside the neighborhood is eye-opening -- there is a whole world out there, even in the same city she lives in! This option isn't open to Lila, though, yet for a time she attempts to keep up with her friend's learning. School had always come quickly to her, and she used books from the local library to study Latin and Greek, even going so far as tutoring Linu to help her earn high marks. After a while, though, her intellectual powers find another outlet -- shoes. Her father works to repair shoes, and she designs several pairs. She and her brother work tirelessly for a time to make them a reality, only to have their father reject the effort outright. 

And so, Lila finds herself with basically only one option for a better life: men. Or boys, really. She has an energy and beauty that attracts the neighborhood elite, and becomes betrothed at just 16 to a local grocer who is perhaps the richest man in town. The book ends as her wedding-day luncheon winds down. To all outside observers, it seems as though she has made it. She has found a financial security, even wealth, that most in the neighborhood can only dream of. It has Linu questioning herself. What is the point, she thinks, of all her studying? Where will it lead except to a life as a wife in her neighborhood -- albeit one where she can speak perfect Italian? 

Which brings up one of the central questions of the book: Who, really, is the "brilliant" friend? Whose choices and cunning are the "right" ones, the ones that will lead to a better life as a woman in this male-, and class-centered society? It's a question that is left unanswered as the book ends abruptly. There are two more that follow. I'm not yet sure if I'll seek out the answer.

Wandering Stars

 Wandering Stars

By Tommy Orange

My first book of the summer. It's taken me almost a month to start this reflection, perhaps because this
isn't the typical beach read one might reach for in the early days of a summer vacation.

The book fills in both the past and future of the characters Orange introduced in There, There, his tale of modern-day Native American lives in Oakland. It starts in the second half of the 1800s with survivors of the Sand Creek Massacre, who become entrapped in the American mission to "kill the Indian and save the man", neither of which were accomplished. In fact, I did not at first understand that this book and There, There were connected, and am still a little confused about the prequel part of the book. Orange seems to move so fast through a century, with chapters reading more like individual short stories than part of a larger narrative arc. Or maybe I just wasn't paying enough attention. The New York Times says that in filling out the lineage of the Read feathers at the center of There, There, Orange emphasizes that, despite our nation's best efforts, Native people, and there lineage, remain.

The bulk of the novel dwells on the aftermath of the shooting, at a Powow, of Orvil Read feather. It isn't pretty. Given pills to help manage his pain, Orvil becomes another in a line of addicts in his family. He drops out of school after meeting another addict who has nearly unlimited access to his father's stash, a pharmacist-turned-drug-maker. He gets clean, turning to running as his outlet, but there is no fairy-tale ending here. Personal and historical trauma remain, and Orvil nearly takes his own life. The family becomes splintered, though there remains hope at the end of a reunification. Which seems maybe like the message here? That, despite the complexities of history and identity and addiction and poverty, there is hope?

The Cemetery of Untold Stories

 The Cemetery of Untold Stories

 By Julia Alvarez

Gotta be honest, this was a snoozer of a book. I, like everybody else, have read In the Time of the Butterflies. I think it was for 9th Grade English, and I have a distinct memory of reading it in my room on a beautiful spring day with my windows open and just feeling great. I also won the Middlebury Book Award in High School, and was given a copy of the book because Julia Alvarez teaches (taught?) there.

Which is part of why this book is so weird. The protagonist, Alma, is a teacher at a small Vermont liberal arts college and also an author. And she's Dominican. So...a little autobiographical? She ends up moving back to her home island, where she creates a cemetery on a plot of land inherited from her father. But it's not a normal cemetery -- it's a place to bury the novels that she wanted to write but abandoned. It's a way of finally letting them rest. But, it turns out, they don't want to rest; they speak. And so the reader, but not Alma, learns the true tale of her father and why he was so silent all of her years. We also learn about the life of Trujillo's wife, Bienvenida, which seemed like a strong echo of Butterflies.

In the end, the conceit seemed just that. There seemed no impetus or drive in this story. It felt like the author wanted to write something and this came out. Glad it is over.

Gather

 Gather

By Kenneth M. Cadow

This book made quite a splash in Vermont, as its author is a genuine high school principal in Bradford, VT.
It also got national attention and was short-listed for the National Book Award. I picked it up in part because of this pedigree, but also because Erin thought it might make for a good all-middle-school read next year.

It is the story of a high-school student named Ian, who lives in a rural Vermont town. Our state is often thought of as affluent, and, for many, that's true; it isn't for Ian. He grows up in a house that has a long history in his family. He once shared it with his grandparents, his dad, and his mom. Then his grandfather died, and his father left. So did his grandmother. And his mom isn't really up to being a mom. 

The story begins when his mom returns home from the hospital after an accidental overdose. We don't really know what she is on, but Ian finds a needle, so we can assume its opiates. His mom's problem began like many people's: with a prescription. She'd hurt herself at work, and received pills to help with back pain. After that, it was a downward spiral.

The OD, though, seems like the rock-bottom moment his mom needed. She swears off drugs and finds a job at a local diner. Ian, meanwhile, is able to find some odd jobs, and starts seeing a new-to-town girl, Sylvia, whose wealthy home-life is nothing like his own. But then his mom discovers that they owe $11,000 in back taxes -- an astronomical sum to them -- and things start to unravel. She ODs again -- and this time doesn't make it. Faced with the abyss, Ian finds he can only truly count on one thing: his dog, Gather, an enormous Irish Wolf Hound. So when he finds that he won't be able to keep him at his new home with his estranged dad, he escapes to the woods. He holes up until he is assured he'll be able to return to his true home.

It was interesting reading this book as a teacher. One of themes of the book is the way(s) in which school does and doesn't meet Ian's needs. He is highly dependent upon school for his physical safety. It's where he goes for warmth and for food. He also finds a degree of emotional support through The Sharpe, a history teacher who shows up for him no matter what. But he seems oblivious to this, focusing instead on how his set of skills isn't valued and recognized. Throughout his neighborhood, Ian is highly regarded as someone who can fix anything. His adult neighbors come to him to take care of things; he is even hired to serve as something of a caretaker for an elderly neighbor. It raises the question: What is school for? And that's just one that I think could be interesting to mine with students. Is there such a thing as a "real" Vermonter? Should land ever be posted? Who is responsible for the opioid crisis? What role do pets play in our lives?

A great read. 

Winter People

 Winter People

By Jennifer McMahon

Whew! This was a scary one! I don't read a lot of ghost stories, but I picked this one up while gathering

Kessler at a neighbor's house; she casually asked me if I wanted a book I could read in two days. Of course! It took me a bit longer than that, but only because school is still in session.

The draw for the neighbor, and me, was the fact that the story takes place in Vermont. My second in a row! The narrative switches back and forth between the present day and 1908, the year of some strange happenings in the small town of West Hall, Vermont. The latter-day protagonist is Sara Shea, whose diaries make up the bulk of the older thread of the story. Her tale begins shortly after the death of her beloved daughter, Gertie, a child she had hoped would stay after a string of miscarriages and one infant death. It was not to be. Stricken with grief, Sara calls upon a spell given to her by her one-time "nanny" -- it's hard to find an apt title for her -- a mysterious woman with some vague ties to Native American ancestry. The spell allows a person to revive a dead person at a portal that happens to be on Sara's property. Gertie "lives" again.

As that story unfolds, we learn of a modern-day disappearance. Alice, a mother of two who now inhabits Sara's old house, has suddenly gone missing. It's an all-too-familiar occurrence in West Hall, that some blame on supernatural forces that seem to reside in the Devil's Hand, the rock formation behind Sara's old house where the portal resides. Alice's two daughters' search for their mother leads them to a secret hideaway beneath their mother's bed, which contains a gun and two driver's licenses. Thinking the people in the ID might hold a clue to Alice's whereabouts, they head to Connecticut. There, they encounter more than they bargained for. Spoiler alert: The trail of the licenses leads the elder daughter, Ruthie, to her long-lost aunt; it turns out Alice isn't her real mother.

Meanwhile, an artist named Katherine is trying to unravel another mystery. Her husband, also stricken with grief after the death of a child, has died on his way home from West Hall. Katherine has no idea why he would be there, and moves to the town to try to piece together some kind of explanation for the unraveling of her life. 

The threads of the story come together one snowy night, when the long-lost -- and mighty unstable -- aunt burst in on Alice's kids and, at gunpoint, demands to know everything they can tell her about their mother. Katherine, too, makes an appearance, and she learns that her husband had come to West Hall after discovering Sara's recipe for making the dead walk again. 

And so it is that the five of them trudge in the middle of the night to the Devil's Hand, and squeeze into a cave that leads to a well-appointed cave. Someone -- something? -- is living there. Gertie, we learn, is alive. Or at least as alive as one can be after dying. She is holding Alice, who, it turns out, was something like her caretaker for many years, but apparently hadn't been as attentive as Gertie had wanted. All but the deranged aunt escape -- but not before Katherine executes the spell. Will another "sleeper" join Gertie?

The book certainly was a page Turner. 

The Fraud

 The Fraud

By Zadie Smith

I've known about Zadie Smith for some time, but I don't know as I've ever read one of her books. So when
I saw this new one on the shelves of the Sherburne Library, I thought I'd give it a shot.

The book is set in 19th century England. One of its focal points is the trial of a man, long thought dead in a shipwreck, to be the heir to a fortune. Is he "Sir Roger" or just a regular working-class resident of the village in which Sir Roger lived?

But that's not the only possible fraud. We see the trial through the eyes of Eliza. After a disastrous marriage, she now lives with, and is dependent upon, her distant cousin, William, a once-distinguished author desperately trying to revive his reputation -- and sales. Privately, Eliza, who was once William's lover, can't stand his writing. In her mind, he, too, is a fraud. Then again, she, too, is living a lie. She props up William's ego, aware of her precarious position. And during her younger trysts, Eliza had fallen in love with William's wife, whose own heart we never truly learn about. Finally, there is Eliza's income. She has been a firm abolitionist for decades, yet is dependent upon a yearly stipend from her former husband's family that was built on the slave trade. When she learns she is eligible to double this income -- a sum that would finally grant her independence from William -- she declines it on these grounds. But she cannot relinquish the rest of the money.

Maybe, though, it is society at large that is the fraud. Eliza comes away from Sir Roger's trial with a sense that the English legal system is not designed to hand down justice so much as it is to preserve the social order. In other words, the question becomes: What is the true fraud of the title? 

I certainly became engrossed in the story, and very much appreciated the rapid-fire chapters, some of which lasted just a few pages. Things kept moving, even when time shifted backward. But the book did seem a bit bereft of plot. Three hundred pages in, and I was still wondering: when is something going to happen?

Water Witches

 Water Witches

By Chris Bohjalian

I'd never read any Bohjalian and figured I should, seeing as how he's pretty much the state's most
famous/prolific writer these days.

Unfortunately, I wasn't too impressed with this one. It tells the story of a lawyer-lobbiest, Scotty, who is trying to usher a ski-resort expansion project through the Vermont environmental approval process. He is well-known throughout the state as a development advocate, and he seems to have no scruples about environmental degradation as long as it is in the name of jobs for Vermonters. Which is weird because his wife and her family are renowned dowsers, people whose connection to nature is so deep that they can sense water veins hundreds of feet below the earth's surface. 

The Powder Peak expansion seems to be easily working its way through the Vermont bureaucracy when, on an summer's evening chairlift ride to the top of Powder Peak, Scotty and his nine-year-old daughter spot something extraordinarily rare and beautiful: a mother catamount and her two cubs. Unwilling to "stifle" his daughter, Scotty trades his job and reputation and testifies about his sighting before the Environmental Commission.

While this story was competently told, there was a lot about it that didn't make sense. Particularly the catamounts. No one in Vermont thinks there are catamounts here; they've been extirpated from the state, and the entire east coast, for more than a century. But Bohjalian writes about them as if most Vermonters still believe there's a chance they exist. It's very strange. And then there's the characters, who seem to be obvious caricatures. And then the resolution, where Scotty learns the errors of his ways and begins to live up to his true values. Very mediocre book. 

North Woods

North Woods

By Daniel Mason

Wow. That was quite a book.

The novel tells the story of a piece of land in Massachusetts' Berkshire Mountains through the eyes of its

inhabitants over four centuries, beginning with a pair of Puritan lovers who flee the, well, puritanical, mob that would have their hides for their deeds. They establish a little cabin, soon only inhabited by the former bride, who welcomes another "Englishwoman" kidnapped on a raid by Native people. A scuffle with a party of murderous soldiers leaves only the newcomer, and thus begins a succession of owners: an army major, Osgood, obsessed with a wondrous variety of apple found near the cabin; his daughters, Alice and Mary; a once-famous landscape painter; a wealthy hunter; his daughter and son, who is wracked by schizophrenia (or a psychic gift?); and, finally, no one. No one living, that is.

For many of the former inhabitants of this land, and the increasingly sprawling home that sits upon it, become ghosts upon their deaths. Not all. But enough. Mary, for instance, dispatches a slave hunter with an axe just as he is about to corner his escaped quarry. And the painter, William Teale, can be heard reciting poetry and copulating with his male lover, a relationship he was only able to glimpse briefly in life. The rules for who becomes a ghost and who does not are a little unclear. Mary, Alice, and Teale, were all prevented, by their partners, from the form of self-actualization that might bring them happiness, and so died able to image this state but unable to attain it. Osgood, though, seemed quite content with his life, and yet he also lingers in the place. 

And what to make of Robert, the mid-20th century inhabitant diagnosed with schizophrenia whose seemingly wild ramblings he calls "Stitches" because he believes his steps literally keep the earth stitched together. He talks of enemies and allies that others perceive to be little more than paranoid hallucinations. And yet his sister, upon Robert's death, finds a stash of 8 mm tape with titles like "Major Osgood's Remembrances of the French and Indian War". To the sister, they are soundless shots of the property; but we, the reader, know of Osgood and his experiences, and are left to wonder whether perhaps Robert's disease was perhaps just a gift, and ability to interact with the ghosts all around us that the rest of us don't. 

But, really, this book is about the land. For while we talk about forest "succession", what that really means is death. It's not just the way some of the inhabitants cut the woods or slash the apple trees. It's the attackers from far away -- the fungus, for instance, spread after a quite detailed and humorous description of beetle sex, that kills the elm and the chestnut, and disfigures the beech -- that have slowly dismantled and diminished the north woods. And not just the trees! Apparently, we have lost 1/3 of our birds since the 1970s, reducing the sound of our once-great forest to a mere hum. At the books' end, the author describes the upward creep of southern pines, which, if our climate continues, will inevitably "succeed" -- and kill off -- our fragile north woods.

This last part was a bit hard to stomach. But this winter (most winters, actually) it is hard not to focus on the loss wrought by climate change. We have yet to have a significant snowfall, and our 5" "powder days" do indeed seem like ghosts of what used to be. Perhaps that's melodramatic. I can't help but wonder, though, whether my kids, who will have grown up spending their winter days at the mountain, will even be able to ski in these parts when they are my age. It makes me wonder, too, about the change my grandfather saw. He was born in 1912 (I think?), and loved the woods, albeit the ones in upstate New York. Did he see the great elms I've been told once lined every downtown in America? Did he see great stands of chestnuts? Did he mourn their losses the way this author does?

Depressing though the book might seem to be, it is engrossingly told. Each vignette brings us wholly into a character, who is imbued with their own voice. There must have been a lot of research into the particular vernacular stylings of each time period touched upon. And the ghost conceit keeps you wondering when they will pop up next. What a great read.

The Midnight Library

 The Midnight Library

By Matt Haig

Nora Seed is having a bad day. She's in the midst of a bout of depression when she loses her low-paying

job at a music store -- basically for showing up depressed. Then she misses a music lesson with her only pupil, who decides to quit the instrument. And, finally, her cat dies. It's all too much for Nora, who once had the world at her fingertips. She was the top swimmer in the country. She did well at university. She even had a music contract with her band, The Labyrinths. Full of regret and without hope, she decides to take her own life.

Except it doesn't quite take. She winds up in the "Midnight Library", essentially a figment of her brain, where, as long as it stays midnight, she can try out the lives she would had lived had she made different decisions. She becomes an Olympian, a rock star, a glaciologist, a professor of philosophy, only to find that none of these lives are all they are cracked out to be. Finally, she realizes -- shocker -- that her "root" life is the one she really wants to live.

I can't say I thought much of this book. It was all so cliche and predictable. The life skipping thing seemed like a replay of "Quantum Leap". And it was pretty clear where this was all headed. Value life! Even the mechanics of the midnight library were clunky. Nora drops into a life with no idea what is going on, so she's not really living that life or that person. It all felt pretty silly, and it was a slog to get to the end.

Solito

 Solito

By Javier Zamora

This was a hard but fascinating read. It's a memoir that tells the tale of his migration to the United States.
Zamora is born in El Salvador, where he is raised by his grandparents because both of his parents migrated to the US when he was very young. His life in El Salvador actually seems pretty okay; he hints at poverty, but we didn't really see it. Nevertheless, Javier's life is consumed by a dream to be reunited with his parents, with whom he speaks once every two weeks.

At last, his day comes. Javier is 9. He is led north with five other people by a coyote named Don Dago, who disappears from the trip not long after it begins. He has told the group he will meet them after an 18-hour boat ride from Guatemala into Mexico. But he never appears. Yet The Six, as Javier dubs them, continue on their journey, and are shuffled from coyote to coyote, who seem to care for them and follow through on their promises. 

Finally, they reach "la linea" -- the border with the US. The Six join a group of about 50, who are surprised by La Migra just as they are about to reach their destination. Javier is now one of four: a man, Chino, a woman, Patricia, and her daughter, Carla. These three care for Javier as if he is family, and they try again. And again they are caught, this time by a border patrol agent who brings them back to the border, but doesn't put them in a cage, as Javier describes a jail. 

But third luck proves the charm, and Javier eventually does make it to La USA. We learn little about his life there, except that he eventually loses touch with Chino, Patricia, and Carla, and that he had years of therapy to deal with the trauma of his crossing.

The book stirred a lot of emotions. The compassion that Chino and Patricia show Javier is inspiring. They save his life on numerous occasions. But none of the coyotes ever make contact with Javier's family, leaving them wondering and worrying for weeks. And then there is the immigration system that the migrants bump up against. They are so desperate to come to our country, and we treat their dreams so callously. I don't know what the answer is, but this book makes it clear that we need to do better.

The Strange Library

 The Strange Library

By Haruki Murakami

By now, I've exhausted all of the Murakami at the local libraries except this one. It's quite short, and took

only an evening to read, so it wasn't quite the immersive experience I was looking for. But it certainly lived up to its title!

The novella tells the story of a man -- a Murakami man! -- who wanders into a library looking to check out books. He is directed to a basement, where and old man leads him into a labyrinth and demands he check out a book. The narrator, who was more in the mood to browse than anything, is incredibly passive and gives into the old man's demands, even when he is taken deeper underground into a reading room that winds up being a jail cell. The assignment there: Read two books on tax collection in the Ottoman Empire and pass a test on it to be released. At first, he complies, but then the person who brings meals -- delicious meals, it turns out -- reveals that all of this reading and memorizing is just to make his brain more tasty and delicious and that, whether he passes the test or not, his gray matter will become a meal for the old man.

Then a young woman appears. There's always a young woman, isn't there? And she helps him escape the library to safety.

Very strange. But not long enough.

The Borrower

 The Borrower 

By Rebecca Makkai

I picked this one up based upon the binge-worthiness of Makkai's most recent novel, I have some

questions for you. If Richard Russo's quip on the front cover is to be believed, this is her first novel. 

The protagonist-antagonist of this book is Lucy Hull, a children's "librarian" -- quotes because she never received her library science degree -- in Hannibal, MO, who develops a close relationship with one of her patrons, or borrowers, named Ian Drake, a voracious reader living under the strict thumb of a conservative Christian mother. So Lucy slips Ian books every now and again that she thinks he will like. Until.

One day, Ian gives Lucy a piece of origami as a Christmas present. When she unfolds it, she sees a testimonial written by Ian's mother about her son's participation in a gay-conversion therapy run by a prominent pastor. Lucy is horrified, and suddenly obsessed with her young friend's plight. So when she finds him camped out in the children's room of the library one morning after running away from home, she is torn about what to do. She half-heartedly tries to drive him home, but when it is clear he is jerking her around -- and that he DOES NOT want to go home -- she just keeps driving. And driving. And driving. To Chicago and Cleveland and Pittsburgh and Vermont. So now Lucy is the "borrower". 

The journey takes up the bulk of the book, and I will say it was a bit excruciating to read. I mean, it's such a horrible decision on so many levels and clearly nothing but doom awaits. And there are really no hints that anything else is coming. It's like watching a slow motion car wreck for two hundred pages. Things improved after a stop in Pittsburgh, where Lucy learns an important secret about her father, who nearly lost his life fleeing the Soviet Union, and it becomes clear that the trip is as much about Lucy rescuing herself as it is about her rescuing Ian. 

I will say that the ending was a bit too tidy and happy. Somehow, Lucy gets away with it. Which is just impossible. A kid goes missing for over a week, shows up again on a Grayhound -- somebody is going to jail. So that was disappointing. But, over all, a pretty good read.