Bean's Book Blog: Book Reviews for Everyone

Always On by Brian Chen (2011)

bean's book blog — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 16:36:24 +0000

This is a book about the iPhone and how it has created an “anything-anywhere-anytime” future and locked us in to this new world. Annie bought me this for Christmas, and the irony is that though I have an iPhone, I probably under-utilize its capacity more than any other owner. Perhaps she wanted me to see what I’m missing—and clearly I’m missing plenty. At times, the book almost made me want to download a few more apps (I have 5 or 6 on my phone and my kids have added 20 or 30 others for their use) so I can do more with my phone. But by the end of the book I decided that I’ll leave my phone as it is for now: a device to call my family and check email, with the occasional foray into maps, restaurants, and vocabulary words. I’m simply not an “always on” person, and though I’m clearly missing out on some information and opportunities, I’m also pretty content doing lots of other things besides checking a screen hundreds of times a day. The book is mostly pro-iPhone, pro-Apple, and pro-technology (Chen used to work for Macworld and currently writes a Wired colum on Apple), but Chen does attempt to balance the scales with some of the drawbacks such as gaming addiction, self-obsession, and data overload. Certainly he acknowledges the frightening path of privacy violation we seem to be headed down because after all, nothing is really free. All those free apps and free sites with free data and free services are funded by ads, and ads make money when they’re personal to us–users of the free stuff. And to get personal, they need personal information which many sites share and sometimes sell to third parties. So Chen makes us aware of many ‘behind-the-scenes’ tricks companies are using—and constantly developing—to get information we’re not aware they’re getting. At times, though, Chen’s research is a bit suspect. For example, he cites a study by researches at Abilene Christian University which found that students who had more Facebook activity—more friends, more groups, and more wall posts—were more likely to stay in college than those students who were less connected to social networking sites. Of course, Abilene Christian also provides every student with an iPhone, so research results like this support their decision to enable every Abilene student to be “always on.”

This book is definitely interesting, and it covers a wealth of information: the iPhone and the other smart phones, vertical business strategies, liability, privacy, virtual worlds, concentration and multi-tasking, the “me” generation, the Amish, and a variety of other topics. Near the end of the book, he offers an analogy that I like and I’ll use—”Attempting to generalize ‘the Internet’ as good or bad is like saying ‘food’ is good or bad.” Since I eat organic, healthy food and my kids prefer Pop Tarts, I get that analogy. All food is not equal. And all Internet use is not equal either. I just hope I their favorite sites are healthier than their favorite foods. (non fiction)

Filed under: 1 Tagged: Apple, apps, Internet, iPhone, technology

The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides (2011)

bean's book blog — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:40:21 +0000

This is not a book about marriage, but it is a book about relationships. It takes place in the 80′s where three twenty-something Brown graduates are trying to figure out what—and who—is important in their lives, and what their next step will be. I suppose one could argue that they spend too much time pondering these big ideas and they should just jump into the job market and begin their life of responsibility without thinking so much about what really matters to them. On the other hand, one could also applaud them for truly trying to figure out what matters, what works, and what it all means. We see the inner workings of Madeleine, the upper class girl who fights her privileged upbringing and seeks meaning through Victorian literature and the study of semiotics (while driving her new convertible). And of Leonard Bankhead—whom she falls for—an intellectual, charismatic, manic-depressive struggling to keep his disease under control. And finally, of Mitchell who reads Christian mysticism and floats off on a journey through Europe—to get Madeleine (whom he loves) off his mind—ending up working at the Home for Dying Destitutes in India and wondering what he actually believes about God and religion. Perhaps I loved this book because it’s my era—college and beyond in the 80′s—but more than that, each character thinks, does, and says what so many of us did, might have thought, and maybe never said. And the writing is fabulous: funny, witty, and thought-provoking. In one scene, Mitchell reminisces about Detroit’s Greektown and his family upbringing there. But now in his early 20′s, both Greektown and Mitchell have changed from his childhood days. It’s now “a kitsch tourist destination” where Mitchell is “just another suburbanite, no more Greek than the artificial grapes hanging from the ceiling.” I remember driving to Greektown senior year in college and thinking how cool it was to be leaving Ann Arbor for a real Greek restaurant, not realizing how touristy the whole place was and how I was exactly the patron they counted on.

This novel immerses us in the intellectual world of literature and philosophy, the scientific world of brain chemistry and microbiology, and the religious world of Catholicism, Buddhism, and Atheism. Great characters, great writing, and great ideas to ponder. This is a fine book that I highly recommend. (fiction)

Filed under: Bean's favorites, book reviews, Fiction Tagged: 80's culture, college, English literature, philosophy, relationships, religion

The Boy who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer (2009)

bean's book blog — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 03:39:16 +0000

The word ‘inspiring’ appeared in 7 of the first 8 reviews I read of this book, and while I certainly don’t disagree with that description, forgive me for not jumping on it and riding the wave all the way through my review. Kamkawamba—along with author Bryan Mealer—tells the story of his childhood in Malawi and how he created a windmill to capture energy so that he could bring electricity to his family, and eventually to make his family’s life easier by pumping water to their house and to their crops. That’s the gist of the story, and the first several pages bring us to the climax where Kamkwamba stands on the windmill tower poised and ready to light a bulb while much of his village watches. It is a good and fascinating story, though not very well told. After those first few pages, the next hundred pages or so contain various disconnected tales from his childhood: the toys he made from scratch, the school he attended when he could, the Magic many believed in, the food they ate, the crops they grew, etc. The stories offer background information, but probably more than we need for a book about building a windmill. The middle of the book goes into heart-wrenching detail about the famine of 2000-2001 (the stomach churning details reminded me of What is the What and Kaffir Boy). And the final third chronicles the windmill building and how that led to an invitation to an international TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) Conference, a private school, TV interviews, and eventually Dartmouth College. The larger story is fascinating, but the writing feels sometimes disjointed and sometimes like a diary chronicling event after event. Though all the information he includes is interesting in its own right, it feels rambling—as if he wasn’t sure which details were important to bring forth the story, so he included everything he could remember. Like most memoirs, the true story trumps the writing. Still, it offers history, anthropology, sociology, politics, invention, and technology, so there is much to learn about in this book. Not a great read, but definitely an important, intriguing, and yes, inspiring story. (memoir)

Filed under: book reviews, Memoir Tagged: Africa, famine, Farming, Malawi, poverty, science, windmills

Room by Emma Donoghue (2010)

bean's book blog — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 02:34:20 +0000

If you’re looking for a book to read on a plane—a page turner that might avert your attention from the crying baby in the seat behind you—then this might be a good choice. It did keep me turning the page, but if I had something better to read, I think I would have put this down and picked up a another book. This felt a lot like a really long sensational People Magazine article about a woman who is abducted and locked in a shed by a lunatic. Though the author claims the story is not based on any particular real life incident, it feels a lot like the Elizabeth Smart case or the Jaycee Lee Dugard story–or a combination of the two. The book is narrated by Jack, a child who just turned 5 and has not had contact with the world beyond this shed that he and his mom live in, other than nightly visits by their captor. But they do have a TV, and Jack has ‘TV friends.” So here’s the problem: the author writes from the perspective of a child who has never been in the real world, but the author is not a psychologist or social worker, and she hasn’t worked with victims of captivity. I think she’s writing beyond what she knows. For example, Jack often speaks in improper past tense despite his mother’s constant corrections (“I rided” and “I forgetted”), but a few months later, he’s watching his mother being interviewed for TV and he can recount the entire interview in adult words and thoughts. His character is inconsistent, and the shift in perspective simply doesn’t work. As well, there are moments where believability is a real issue. Spoiler alert: Honestly, would Old Nick assume Jack is dead and not even check to see if he’s breathing? I doubt it.

Still, the book did make me think. As a mom, how would I raise my child in a 11 X 11 room? How would I protect him? What would I choose to tell him and not tell him? How would I keep him healthy and sane and entertained? How would I find the patience and calm to not take my frustration and anger out on my child? I found all of those issues intriguing, especially after reading sections where Ma laid out a daily exercise plan, practiced excellent hygiene, and devised a plan to keep her son safe while she suffered night after night.

There are plenty of other books out there that are written much better than this, but my theory is that every book has something to teach, something to be learned or thought about. And this book did make me think. I’ll give it that much. (fiction)

Filed under: book reviews, Fiction Tagged: captivity, childhood development, crime, family relationships

Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann (2009)

bean's book blog — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 20:46:13 +0000

McCann’s writing is beautiful, often poetic (though at times a little too flowery) in this novel which is really a collection of vignettes loosely held together with the story of Philippe Petit’s tightrope walk between the World Trade Center Towers in August of 1972. But mostly they’re held together simply by the connection to New York City: the grit, the graffiti, the disparity between the projects and Park Avenue, and the contrast between feeling anonymous and feeling deeply connected. As well, each character represents a social or political aspect of the 70′s: Corrigan is rooted in his Catholic faith, and acting as a Liberation Theologian, he protects, defends, and befriends the poor and the prostitutes; his brother, Ciaran, tries to make sense of this obsessive commitment that is foreign to him; upper crust Claire is reeling from the shock of losing her son who died in non-combat duty in Vietnam; Joshua, her dead son was a brilliant techie working for the government on the frontlines of Internet invention when he was killed in Southeast Asia; Gloria, who lives in the projects, lost her son in Vietnam as well, but she and Claire form a tenuous bond over their loss. And in a spider-webby sort of way, McCann spins the stories around and through each other until there’s enough to connect them. What pulled me in more than the stories was the writing itself. At one point, Claire’s support group—all mothers who lost sons in the war—is taken aback at finding out she lives on the Upper East side. Janet says Oh, we didn’t know you lived up there. Up there. As if it were somewhere to climb. As if they would have to ascend to it. Ropes and helmets and carabiners (77). I love the way we feel the physical dizziness and discomfort of the money, the power, the status that only Claire possesses. Yet, she remains as lost, unhappy, and even more alone than the rest of them.

McCann never mentions 9/11, but in many ways that’s what the book is about: life goes on no matter what. Despite tragedy, disgrace, or disillusionment–hope remains. And the world spins on. It happened in the 70′s, it happened after 9/11, and it will keep happening.

This is a really good read. (fiction)

Filed under: Bean's favorites, book reviews, Fiction Tagged: 1970's, New York City, Phillippe Petit, Twin Towers

Writing Places: The Life Journey of a Writer and a Teacher by William Zinsser (2009)

bean's book blog — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 03:02:45 +0000

Zinsser is the guru of nonfiction writing, and I use his advice all the time in my own classroom, especially excerpts from his most famous book, On Writing Well in which he expounds on clutter as the disease of American writing. Simplify, simply, he advises. And I try to follow his lead, cutting out needless words and making my point using clear language. This book is Zinsser’s memoir on writing, describing his career as a writer, from his early days writing for The Herald Tribune to his many years as a freelance journalist to his years at Yale, and finally to his years devoted to On Writing Well and its numerous editions. I especially loved his descriptions of the offices at the Herald Tribune with cigarette smoke wafting over furious fingers at typewriters. The atmosphere seems dirty, messy, and loud, but Zinsser loved every minute of it, especially the spirited conversations around the coffee pot. Much later, in his freelance years, he misses those crowded, cluttered offices that felt so alive. I also loved his description of teaching at Yale where he intended to offer his first nonfiction writing class to 15 students (thinking he might have to recruit a few) and ended up with over a hundred students clamoring to get in. Then he had the luxury of reading their applications and deciding who to allow into the class. Ah…if only we could all be so lucky.

Anyone who wants to write should read Zinsser’s advice—and follow it. If half the memoirs on the market today were written by folks who followed his advice, most would be about 50% shorter than they are, and they wouldn’t lose a thing. I hope this won’t be Zinsser’s last book. (memoir).

Filed under: book reviews, Memoir, Non-fiction Tagged: freelance writing, Herlad Tribune, memoir, teaching, writing, writing instruction, yale

The Red Skirt: Memoirs of an Ex Nun by Patricia O’Donnell-Gibson (2011)

bean's book blog — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 02:26:36 +0000

Lots of folks who grew up in catholic schools of the 50′s and 60′s will laugh, nod, and cringe through this memoir. As a catholic school girl of the 70′s, I experienced little, if any, of what the author went through, but I know my older sisters would surely identify with much of it, beginning with First Communion, the sacred right of passage that Gibson describes as “pretty heady stuff for an eight-year-old” as she admits “I did believe—right down to my shiny white shoes—that Jesus–the same one who looked out from the picture of the Sacred heart—was coming into me; into my body and also to my soul.” Actually, I’m not sure it’s any different today, except that fewer kids are terrified of priests and nuns, so if they don’t believe their bodies are literally joined with the body of Jesus through a wafer, maybe they don’t feel condemned to purgatory for such outrageous thoughts. She offers great stories of missionaries preaching about the poor pagan babies who will forever hang out in a place called Limbo after they die, stories about being forced to flatten her hair and lengthen her skirt, and stories about the nuns constantly reminding students that any talent they possessed came straight from God, not from natural ability or hard work. The memoir follows Gibson’s years from grade school, through high school and her “calling” into the Dominican order, her years as a Postulant, then a Novice, then a teacher, and finally, her decision to walk away from her life as a nun. The best, most vivid writing in the book comes in the chapters about teaching elementary students. The writing becomes livelier and more detailed. It’s beyond me how she can remember so much from so long ago. Sometimes I can’t even describe a class of students that I taught five years ago. Perhaps if I had been a better Catholic, God would have provided me with a better memory. (memoir)

Filed under: book reviews, Memoir, Non-fiction Tagged: catholic school, Dominican order, ex-nun, teaching

*Eiger Dreams by Jon Krakauer (1990, 2009)

bean's book blog — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 18:32:03 +0000

I became a Krakauer fan over 20 years ago when I first encountered a few of his articles in Outside Magazine. Since then, I’ve read Into Thin Air, Into the Wild, Under The Banner of Heaven, Where Men Win Glory, and now Eiger Dreams, his first book which is a collection of previously published articles about mountaineering. I was ordering a new copy of Into Thin Air for my son when this book caught my eye. Something of Krakauer that I hadn’t read? That I should read his first book after reading everything else he’s written (save Three Cups of Deceit which I’ve almost finished), is a bit out of order, but I think I gleaned more from the book this way. I certainly wouldn’t have appreciated his prescience about climbing in the Himalayans had I not already read Into Thin Air. In Eiger Dreams he writes about the growing pride and glory associated with successfully summiting the highest and most dangerous mountains. Where so many mountaineers were once driven by personal challenge, too many (and this is in the mid 80′s) were beginning to put together such big, expensive, and high profile climbing parties that not succeeding became a public failure. Thus, many were beginning to allow external pressure to cloud their judgement. Not too many years after he wrote those words, the disasters mounted, on Everest in particular. Yet even after writing Into Thin Air, he left the ‘I told you so’ attitude out of the book, something he clearly could have inserted, because indeed, he did tell us—years earlier—that disaster was imminent. My favorite articles/chapters in Eiger Dreams are “The Burgess Boys,” “Gill,” and “The Devil’s Thumb.” Even early in his career, Krakauer embedded such power in his writing that he captures us with every detail. He has a knack for finding the most compelling stories, chronicling the most interesting, unique people, and writing about them with such accuracy and detail that his credibility is flawless. It feels like a month—or more—of exhaustive research must go into each 20 page piece. When his subject is himself rather than other climbers, as it is in “The Devil’s Thumb,” he manages to take us with him to the brink of disaster–the thunk of an ice pick into granite or a 5 foot drop into a crevasse that easily could have been a thousand foot plummet—with a self-deprecating tone. We get the crushing sensation of fear without dramatic hyperbole. This is a great collection. (nonfiction)

Filed under: Bean's favorites, book reviews, Non-fiction Tagged: Alaska, bouldering, climbing, Himalayan Mountains, mountaineering, short stories, the Alps

Child of My Heart by Alice McDermott (2002)

bean's book blog — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 15:54:01 +0000

What I loved about Charming Billy, McDermott’s last novel (~ 1999) were the intricate details of specific scenes and characters. After 10+ years, I can still see the funeral parlor. Similarly, in Child of My Heart, McDermott zeros in on her main character’s every move. The whole novel covers maybe a few weeks in the life of Theresa, a 15-year-old Long Island resident who is coveted by neighboring families for her pet-sitting and baby-sitting prowess. It seems that all children and pets are happiest under her charge. McDermott kind of follows Theresa around with a zoom lens, allowing us to listen and watch her every move. She invites Daisy-Mae, her 8 year old waif-thin—and ill—cousin, to visit for the summer acting as a protective and guiding older sister, something Daisy-Mae has never experienced in her family of 8. Together, they care for Flora, the toddler of an aging artist and his young—often absent—wife, several dogs and cats of wealthy Long-Islanders, and the neighboring children who are often hungry, dirty, and wanting in numerous ways. In every situation, Theresa seems to know just what to do and say to soothe, calm, shelter, guide, persuade, and advise. Almost too much. She seems wise beyond her years, and cloyingly sweet, yet precocious. She is sexually excited by the advances of Flora’s father, who is 70, yet standoff-ish at the same time. What 15-year-old can calmly sing a two-year-old to sleep one minute and lose herself in the flutters of an old man’s touch on the back of her neck the next minute, acting as if it’s all very normal. Clearly Theresa is no typical teenager, but in terms of character believability, I think McDermott stretches a little too far. Still, there are multiple moments of pure beauty in her writing, in description and insight. At one point, Theresa talks with Daisy-Mae who is missing her family, and Theresa explains that when you’re used to people, you can “miss them but not necessarily want to be with them. . . sort wishing you can “be in two places at once. With them because you love them and you’re used to them, but also away from them so you can be just yourself” (88). I think I feel that way a lot. Probably everyone does. I suppose I’d describe this as a coming-of-age story as Theresa slides into the world of adult experience, at the same time maintaining a world of innocence for Daisy and Flora. Her ability to navigate both worlds without ever becoming rattled or overwhelmed, however, propels her well beyond her 15 years. Probably beyond anyone at 15. (fiction)

Filed under: book reviews, Fiction Tagged: babysitting, coming-of age, family, Long Island, sexuality

**The Dirty Life by Kristen Kimball (2010)

bean's book blog — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 19:59:56 +0000

This book swept me in much the same way that the author, Kristen Kimball, was swept into farming. The Dirty Life is her story of morphing from a free-lance writer living in Manhattan to an organic farmer in upstate New York all in less than a year. She met her husband, Mark, a Pennsylvania farmer, when she was assigned to interview him, and within 24 hours she was hoeing broccoli and helping him slaughter a big. Love came soon after, and soon after that, they were turning 500 acres of neglected land and outbuildings near lake Champlain into a farm of organic vegetables and fruits, pigs, cattle, chickens, cows, maple syrup, beans, and grains—using horse-power and no tractors. The work she describes is utterly overwhelming, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Yet, it’s the most rewarding thing she’s ever done. Days sometimes start before 4 am and often don’t end until they collapse into bed at 9 or 10. It’s dirty, scary, hard, and beautiful. Their vision is to build a CSA that will feed 100 families a full diet—not just food to supplement the grocery store, but enough quantity and variety to replace the grocery store. She wrote the book seven years after they began their venture, and it chronicles their first year. But from the epilogue and what I’ve read of their current farm, they’ve succeeded and now have 150 members, several interns, and several teams of horses, plus a daughter. This kind of farming seems romantic and idyllic. After all, I love harvesting tomatoes, basil, cucumbers, squash, and lettuce from our family garden. But I do little actual work there. And it’s about 20 x 100 feet. The Kimballs have 500 acres. But farming definitely isn’t idyllic or romantic most of the time—mostly it’s a to-do list 10 times longer than what could possibly get done and setbacks that are often out of your control. But it’s important, earthy, good-for-the-world work too. Kimball is an eloquent writer: she takes us right to the brink of every emergency, the sparkle of every celebration, and the hilarity of every laughable moment. Her self-deprecating tone is refreshing for a memoir. I have so many favorite passages dog-eared in the book that it’s hard to choose only a few, but here are two: a personal reflection and a funny description.

“I had come to the farm with the unarticulated belief that concrete things were for dumb people and abstract things were for smart people. I thought the physical world–the trades–was the place you ended up if you weren’t bright or ambitious enough to handle a white-collar job. Did I really think that a person with a genius for fixing engines, or for building, or for husbanding cows was less brilliant than a person who writes ad copy or interprets the law? Apparently I did, though it amazes me now. . . There’s no better cure for snobbery than a good ass kicking” (111) Later she writes, “Mark and I spent evenings poring over the seed catalogs that had arrived during the darkest week of winter, piling up next to the bed like farmer porn” (119). I’ve read and re-read and read aloud so many passages because they cracked me up or they made me ponder priorities or they connected to The Grapes of Wrath, (my most recent read) or they made me realize just how much work and love goes into the food I eat. This is a great, great book. (memoir)

Filed under: Bean's favorites, book reviews, Memoir, Non-fiction Tagged: CSA, draft horse-power, Essex Farm, Farming, organic food, Upstate New York, writing