Cultural Digestion
A filtration system for the words and sounds currently passing through my life.
"The Passion" by Jeanette Winterson: I found myself utterly pleased that I could not only read "The Passion", but that I could enjoy its magical pessimism. It is, at once, a romance novel and a historical novel and an unlikely fairy tale. "I'm telling you a story. Trust me," utters one of the narrators time and again, and it is entirely possible to lay yourself in the hands of Henri as he follows Napoleon across snowy Europe to doom and death and love in Russia. And it is easier still to trust the mazes woven by Villanelle, the daughter of a boatman, as she seeks magic and escape in the canals of Venice, and somehow finds doom and death and love after Russia. Both are entrancing narrators, and the language that Winterson provides for them proves powerful in its insight and simplicity -- "This is the city of mazes. You may set off from the same place to the same place every day and never go by the same route. If you do so, it will be a mistake. Your bloodhound nose will not serve you here. Your course in compass reading will fail you. Your confident instructions to passers-by will send them to squares they have never heard of, over canals not listed in the notes." A solid, dreamy tale.
"Silence in October" by Jens Christian Grondahl: Even Danes need outstanding editors, though Jens Grondahl manages well enough with a passable one in this, his American debut. Grondahl's novel suceeds, but it requires stamina born not of attention to detail, or to language, or to tangled webs. When his wife Astrid walks out of his life, leaving a thread of credit card purchases along the western coast of Europe into Spain, the art historian narrator reweaves the last 18 years of his life, searching for reasons, for understanding and, ultimately, discovering how impossible it is to determine motive when suddenly every memory seems rooted in chance, not design. In the first hundred pages, I was caught by Grondahl's strong insights into the nature of individuals within relationships; after the first hundred pages, I began searching for less insight, dancing through the final chapters with a focus on the narrative story, more anxious for the art historian to finish his damn tale, then for him to finish it well. "Silence in October" is a good book, but it is too weighted with too many details and too much psychology. I'll seek out Grondahl's 10 other novels because he is a strong storyteller, but I'll approach them with a cautious eye.
"Blessings" by Anna Quindlen: I'll come out and say it. I think Anna Quindlen has a gift for writing novels of quiet, tragic optimism, or of optimism created from the pressures of everyday drama. I entered the world of the elderly Lydia Blessings with trepidation, fearful of a wretched drama with eye-rolling Southern sensibilities. Thankfully, Quindlen profers a small handful of surprises bereft of grits. "Blessings" wanders back and forth, like the matriarch of the book, between the harshly tender reality of the present -- Lydia watches her family farm slowly peel and fade, and Skip Cuddy discovers his bliss as caretaker for the Blessings estate and something more precious -- and the constricted world of Lydia's youth. Between the two, she, Skip and others discover the value of quietly rebuilding, and of sefless sacrifice.
"See No Evil" by Robert Baer: Former CIA operative Baer spent much of his career roaming the streets of the Middle East, obsessed with the unknown figures behind the 1983 bombing of the U.S. Embassy in Beirut and the kidnapping and/or killing of a handful of Americans that same decade. Baer writes a choppy story that manages to rescue itself through his familiarity of Lebanon's civil war and, later, his out-of-the-headlines activities in northern Iraq in 1995. "See No Evil" provides more insight into the surface operations of the CIA than anything else. That, and a keen disappointment with more than two decades of bad policymaking by the U.S. government in the region.
"Bush at War" by Bob Woodward: Woodward cut his teeth on Watergate, and has gone steadily downhill since. He's a fine reporter, but he's also a Washington insider. His penchant for limiting the depth and scope of his reporting in exchange for access has created a extremely readable glimpse into the first months of the post-September 11 Bush administration. My sense is that "Bush at War" is a better book if a reader has strong context, a deeper knowledge of the key players and policy decisions that Woodward offers here. It's very easy to read this account and feel that the administration is a focused team of champs, when the reality is that it is comprised of more than one chump. It's a shame Woodward didn't tell a complete story, but this first candid look at what was happening in the White House is a good start.
"The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" by Michael Chabon: A year late, and what can I say about Chabon's Pulitzer Prize winning novel? It's good, obviously, though the build-up feels leaden at times, even through the richness of pre-war Prague and the muted colors of the Golden Age. It doesn't take long for it to gain strength, especially once Chabon hits the streets of 1930s New York. Chabon's strength, I first thought, was his attention to detail and landscape, his ability to create an era that felt honest, and just this side of real. As I waded deeper, I ultimately was captured by Chabon's tragic heroes -- Sammy Clay and his cousin Joseph Kavalier. Clay and Kavalier rose to glory on the anti-gravity boots of The Escapist, the comic book hero they created in homage to the new genre of crime fighters emerging in the mid-1930s. Soon, their crime fighter became a Nazi fighter of great fictitious acclaim, brought to life in the eyes of their American readers by Kavalier's artistry. Chabon deftly constructs a New York and a lifestyle and a sensibility of the times that is richly optimistic, and then brings it to a climatic collision of war and tragedy, and of cultural pressures. Kavalier escapes. Clay adopts a secret identity, and a sidekick of sorts. Years after the war, a complex web unravels and they both, finally, have another chance at the lives they originally sought.
"God's Mountain" by Erri De Luca: Italian author and journalist Erri De Luca captures almost perfectly the voice and essence of a boy on the cusp of manhood, captivated by his thirteen-year-old neighbor Maria -- who leads him down one path -- and by Holocaust survivor Rafaniello -- who is sprouting wings for his long flight to Jerusalem, and who leads him down another. The boy is anchored by a gift from his father, a boomerang that's he's afraid to throw until he can be certain it won't return. A short, lovely and almost lyrical novel, "God's Mountain" builds with quiet certainty in the voice and body and experiences of its young narrator -- "It's a voice, my voice, a donkey's braying that rips from my lungs. I shout, and there isn't enough room for my shout on my whole scroll of paper or even in the sky above Montedidio."
"Waging Modern War" by General Wesley K. Clark: The challenge with first-person accounts of recent history has to do with perspective. Wesley Clark is sharp; there's no doubt about it, but this book is *his* perspective on events. A rising star in the U.S. military since Vietnam, Clark wrapped up his career in the unusual dual role of Supreme Commander of U.S. forces in Europe and as the military head of NATO. This was in the mid-90s when the former Yugoslavia was at the end of its ropes, and NATO soon found itself engaged in its first military conflict -- against Serbia. Clark's telling account has its share of heroes and villains; he certainly doesn't make friends with former Secretary of Defense Cohen with this book. Wrapped on either end of Clark's Bosnia story -- the bulk of the book -- he presents his perspectives on how conflict has changed in the modern era. It's a reassuring book in one significant way: modern warfare combines diplomatic, military, political and social tensions in a manner that's likely never been seen. The result in Bosnia was a more difficult war for the military, but a better war from most other perspectives -- with better outcomes for the Serbians and for the political stability of Europe.
"The Russian Hand" by Strobe Talbott: Strobe Talbott served for much of the Clinton administration as an undersecretary of state dealing with the former Soviet Union portfolio. It's hard to believe that just over a decade ago, the Soviet Union existed. It's even more amazing that it faded so quietly, which is to say without a mushroom cloud or six. Talbott brings his journalist's eye to a tumultuous decade, humanizing the small handful of passionate Russians who struggled to bring the former superpower to a clumsy, but survivable, crash landing. And he demonstrates clearly just how important personal relationships are in world affairs -- Bill Clinton's dogged belief in Boris Yeltsin might be the single most important act of faith of the last century. And for all of his faults, Clinton can't be faulted for a lack of intense, personal interest in the power of the presidency to transform history. It's a hefty, but important, volume. And Talbott's writing makes a dense, complicated history readable and understandable.
"The Best American Non-Required Reading of 2002" edited by Dave Eggers: If you read a lot, you've stumbled across the best of these essays and articles -- Michael's Finkel's New York Times Magazine article on two friends fighting on opposite sides of the Afghan war, Sara Corbett's piece in the same magazine on the Lost Boys of Sudan, Eric Schlosser's Atlantic Monthly article on McDonald's french fries. Each is worth revisiting, as is David Sedaris' "Mr. Popular," Adrian Tomine graphic (as in illustrated) "Bomb Scare" and high schooler Zoe Trope's high school recollections, titled "Don't Kill the Freshman." This volume is a welcome addition to the erstwhile "Best American Series" (travel writing, sports writing, etc.), and an ideal companion for the subway and stake-outs.
"Emma's War" by Deborah Scroggins: When Emma McCune fell in love with Africa as a student at Oxford Polytechnic (a branch of Oxford for the well-to-do academic underperformer), the continent was in crisis. There was famine in Ethiopia, apartheid in South Africa and civil war in the Sudan. Emma, a fetching Brit with a carefree, idealistic streak, made her way to the Sudan and into the very cliquish circle of aid workers there. By the early 1990s, Emma was married to a Sudanese guerilla leader and was swept up in the violent conflict. Emma McCune died in a car accident in 1993 near Nairobi; she was 29 years old and pregnant. "Emma's War" tells of her chaotic life amidst the violence of the Sudan. But it also speaks volumes about the incestuous and half-disciplined approaches of countless well-intentioned aid agencies, often trapped between the whims of their workers, the bureaucracy of their organizers and the politics of governments, warlords, guerillas and starving people. "Emma's War," all said, is a well-told story of a tragic woman caught in the midst of a more tragic world.
"The Age of Sacred Terror" by Daniel Benjamin and Steven Simon: I haven't read a better book on the subject of terrorism in general, and the battle against al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden specifically. Benjamin and Simon spent four years on the terrorism beat with the Clinton Administration's National Security Council, and bring a refreshing degree of insight, straightforwardness and candor to this tome. They give detailed, readable explanations of the historical origins of Islamism, the unique political and social challenges faced by individual countries in the Middle East, and the rise of bin Laden. More importantly, they illustrate that the "war on terror" has been a priority in the United States since 1993, and provide a blow-by-blow account of what the FBI, CIA and NSC did (and did not) do to combat al Qaeda and other fundamentalist groups. Benjamin and Simon conclude with specific recommendations for making inroads in the conflict, but are clear in their view that religious fundamentalist terror of all stripes (Islamic, Buddhist, Christian and Jewish) is a trend that is just beginning to hit the world.
"Blood of Victory" by Alan Furst: Alan Furst's "war noir" novels tend to be set in pre-World War Two Europe, and are masterworks of mood and description. The pace sometimes plods along as a result, and the characters can feel flat, but "Blood of Victory" wanders the oil fields of southeastern Europe revealing a side of the war often ignored through the tired eyes of his hero, a Russian poet and spy.
"Bad Boy Brawly Brown" by Walter Mosley An inheritor of hard-boiled detective fiction, Mosley sets his work in the working class black neighborhoods of Los Angeles. In this latest novel, bare-knuckled Easy Rawlins is settling down, mourning the loss of a friend and searching for a wayward young man. A complex web is woven, and racial tension comes close to exploding in another of Mosley's well-crafted tales.
"Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress" by Dai Sijie: Two boys are sent to the Chinese countryside for re-education, accidentally discovering a cache of forbidden Western literature. One of the boys falls in love with a young seamstress, and wins her over with these forbidden words, which in turn open her eyes to the wider world that lies beyond her village. A gem of a book.
THE REPLACEMENTS: all for nothing, nothing for all There are three kinds of 80s alternarock that catches your attention: the commercial pop-tripe we all know and love (Go-Go's or B-52s or Depeche Mode or the Femmes), the much better pop we all know and love but has somehow avoided the airwaves (The Smiths or really early REM and their kin) and the ground-breaking music we completely forget about. The 'Mats fall into the latter category (and, sure, there really are about 52 categories). This "greatest hits" collection doesn't ignore the fact that the Minneapolis bar rockers never actually had any hits -- it just collects the songs that should have been their greatest hits. Bar stomping tunes like "Left of the Dial" ease into tuneless heartbreakers like "Kiss Me On The Bus" meld into tragic ballads like "Here Comes A Regular." And on and on. If a better band imploded in the 80s, I never listened to them, and if a rock-and-roll band recorded 33 better songs than the ones collected here, I haven't heard the CD yet. In the 1980s, America needed more wastrels like this foursome.
"High Fidelity," "About A Boy" and "How To Be Good" by Nick Hornsby: Here's the thing -- I went to see "About A Boy" with a friend who needed something amusing and clever, and was mostly amused by just how clever it was. That, and the coquettish acting of Hugh Grant (who looks more and more like Ben Stiller's Zoolander every day). I moved on to the print version: Clever. Fluffy. Spot-on at moments. But when characters in novels start out shallow and a bit vapid, I usually sort of want them to just blossom by the middle of the book, which never happens. So, perhaps the vapidness just got old and should have ended sooner. "High Fidelity" might have been better as a movie (just a guess), but by the time Hornsby walked me through the fiftieth list ("Five Songs They'd Play At My Funeral") and Rob put his foot in his mouth just one more time, I was ready to bag it. Which is the same reaction I had with "How To Be Good," which explored the frightening world of suburban spirituality outside of London, and a marital meltdown that, as in "High Fidelity," involved a clever woman drawn into the sad web of a muddled man.
"Empire Falls" by Richard Russo: Needing something hefty for a long train ride, I picked up this Pulitzer Prize novel. And despite some of the choppy threading that holds it together, it's an enjoyable enough read, also known as a reasonably good book. Russo centers his gaze around soon-to-be-divorced Miles Roby and his teenage daughter Tick, and builds outward to encompass a small-town world filled with snide misery, habitual friendships, regrets, and the collision of the way things were with the way things aren't anymore. Russo has a firm hand with dialogue, especially when it's catty or clever, but he does better retelling the origins of his characters than he does with their present lives. But sometimes people are dumber than I give them credit for, even in novels, so to call his storytelling suspect, even if only periodically, might be overdoing it. Waffling aside, "Empire Falls" could have stood a firmer editor, but I think the storyteller's successes are clearly visible throughout the book.
"Body of Secrets by James Bamford: It employs more people than the FBI and CIA combined, is the second-largest consumer of electricity in Maryland and has as complex and political a past as any government agency in history. And it's virtually unknown. The National Security Agency is partially unmasked in this well-written, detailed book, thanks to the author's research and a growing willingness among NSA veterans to discuss their work. Bamford starts at the beginning -- the codebreakers of World War Two, the race to grab the tools and the brains of German analysts as the war ended, and the manic importance of surveillance and analysis during the Cold War. He balances what could be very dense reporting with a journalist's friend: human interest stories. He uses these stories to unmask secrets, fill out details of forgotten events (the downing of the U2 spyplane over the Soviet Union that almost brought down Eisenhower; the Israeli slaughter of 34 civilian and NSA crewmembers on the USS Liberty during the 1967 Arab-Israeli War) and to explain the tensions between military and civilian control of the agency. A newly added chapter in the paperback edition provides a snapshot of NSA activity on September 11, 2001 -- and concludes with a grim and ominous statement about the state of U.S. intelligence readiness made during the summer of 2000: "I think we're in big trouble." Fortunately, the NSA has a foundation in place. As Bamford notes, the question is whether it can metamorph quickly to meet the threats of the immediate future. And if it can do it in the spirit of NSA Director Michael Hayden, who said in October of 2000, "The American people have to trust us and in order to trust us they have to know about us." Someone pass that on to Dick Cheney.
"The Shadow of the Sun" by Ryszard Kapuscinski: The first reason to find this book is for the cover photograph of an African poling a canoe toward a flat sandy shoreline, a camel moving in the distance. But the primary reason is that Kapuscinski was communist Poland's first foreign correspondent in Africa in the 1960s, which means that he traveled the continent during its most fascinating years, virtually penniless and saw it through the eyes of a European lacking the sacks of colonial baggage so many western Europeans brought with them at the time. A keen eye combines with fascinating geography and events to make "The Shadow of the Sun" one exceptional book. Here's a man who fell in love with Africa because of its warts, and who takes the time to lovingly describe them in these stories and anecdotes from his life.
"Noble Norfleet" by Reynolds Price: Another biographical novel along the lines of his richly splendid "Roxanna Slade," Price moves into more modern times with "Noble Norfleet." I suppose one mark of a good writer is the ability to tell difficult things believably, and Price is certainly capable of that -- young Noble has his first sexual encounter, stumbles across his murdered brother and sister, turns his mother into the police and graduates from high school all in short order, before being sexually seduced by a minister and going off to Vietnam. Truly a set-up for an utterly dysfunctional adult. It is in the final chapters that Price allows the story to take shape and does so with the grace and craft of a writer.
"Auto/Biography and the Construction of Identity and Community in the Middle East," edited by Mary Ann Fay: I just couldn't do it. The flyleaf says this book "uses biography as a window into the history of the Arab-Islamic Middle East," and I imagine it does. Unfortunately, the biography is so dense and academic that one glass of wine kills any desire to plod through a paragraph. Which is unfortunate, as there are countless tales untold from this region that deserve an audience. The tales just deserve better storytellers than they're offered here.
"Amsterdam" by Ian McEwan: A nice enough little book, but why it won The Booker Prize, I don't know. Apparently, I have tough standards, as McEwan does a nice job in his telling of a triangle of men nearing late middle-age and reacting to the consequence of the death of their former lover. So, why the snub? It all goes back to depth and character. McEwan seems to float in that netherworld between wanting to write a short story and a novel, and as a result I feel improperly dumped into this tale without adequate introductions all around -- not to the dead woman, Molly, nor to her three former lovers, and certainly not to her inept husband.
"On Green Dolphin Street" by Sebastian Faulks: Faulks loses some ground with this story of the wife of an alcoholic British diplomat in the late 50s. Unlike his spellbinding "Birdsong" or even the well-told "Charlotte Gray" (better book than movie), on this go Faulk never quite delves deep enough into the nuances of the story -- not the characters, not the politics (it shadows the Nixon-Kennedy election throughout), not the settings (New York and D.C.) and not the hints of jazz that keep popping up. In the end, it's another tale of human frailty that skims on too many edges. Lord knows frailty alone is disappointing enough without it being further tamped.
"Kingdom of Shadows" by Alan Furst: I'm an easy mark for historical spy novels that lack in explosions, cameo appearances by American Presidents, fight scenes in narrow submarine corridors and stolen nuclear devices. So Furst's book makes for a great D.C.-to-Richmond Amtrak read. Set in Paris in 1938 as the world slides toward clumsy disaster, "Kingdom of Shadows" is centered around an uncertain spy, a retired Hungarian calvary officer navigating between the Germans, the Soviets and the Croats. Not quite noir, not quite history, not quite an atmospheric portrait of Paris and the Hungarian countryside, "Kingdom of Shadows" skirts the edges of the genre with a narrative of the more ordinary sort. That being a good thing.
RACHID TAHA: made in medina Here's where you might have heard Taha -- the CD's opening track, "Barra Barra," is playing in "Blackhawk Down" as the Rangers and Delta teams are sweeping over the skyline of Mogadishu. Hollywood aside, the entire recording is intense and rhythmic. Taha blends the club sounds of Europe with the more traditional rhythms of his native Algeria in a way that truly makes you want to melt all of the emotionless, staccato electronic club crap that's playing in most nightspots. This is one of the best fusion CDs I've heard. Even the lyrics (in French and Arabic) are stunning. This is truly the driving and dancing CD of the summer.
ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN: live in liverpool A nervous step back to my adolescence, richly rewarded. I wanted to buy the box-set, and convinced myself to taste the music first. It'd been a decade, after all, since I'd given them a serious listen. Recorded in 2001, these tracks by Ian and Will catch perfectly some of the most lush songs the Bunnymen ever wrote. From the opening strains of "Rescue" to the closing, gentle chords of "Ocean Rain," I was captivated. I truly think this band recorded some of the most perfect pop songs written in the 1980s. Bouncy tunes made for driving around town running errands.
GIRLS AGAINST BOYS: you can't fight what you can't see Groovy hipsters escape from the defined D.C. hardcore revolution of the 80s and scatter for New York and Chicago. The happy result is that GvsB has lost its harsh sting and amplified its groove. Their latest effort is not a departure, but has tones of refinement that aren't found among their peers. Not that they have many left. Thick, with hints of funkiness, this GvsB recording is blessed with heavy bass and drums, Scott McLeod's sultry gravel voice, and sexy obscure lyrics that ultimately say nothing. Works well doing dishes with glass of scotch on the counter.
WILCO: yankee hotel foxtrot Another group with old roots, Wilco found its start with alt-country/alt-garage noisemakers Uncle Tupelo more than a decade ago, branched out and found itself getting a little folksier and rootsier at the turn of the century, hooked up with Billy Bragg for a while, and then got into a squabble with their label. The result is that this CD is a year or more late, but that doesn't hurt it. In fact, Wilco's use of sampling, along with the muddied vocals, strummed guitars, and muted drums, combine to create a soothing, familiar strain that might have sounded wretched a year ago. Hints of Radiohead linger in the background. Good during a setting sun.
MARK EITZEL: music for courage and confidence His American Music Club made a place for him in the music world, but Eitzel has struck out on his own of late. With curious results. In this collection, take a step back to a muted Vegas lounge circa 1976 as Eitzel croons his way softly through standards you only know through listening. "Snowbird," "Help Me Make It Through The Night," "More, More, More" -- it's a gentle ride, but a pleasurable one. Best served with a glass of wine.
"Parting the Waters" by Taylor Branch: Hell, it won the Pulitzer Prize, so it should be good. And it is -- as thick as the Los Angeles directory, dense as Sally Lund cake and ambitious as Admiral Byrd. "Parting the Waters" tells the phenomenal story of "America in the King Years, 1954-63." It is a mostly forgotten tale, and one that deserves to be remembered, and the power of this book is that while it tells the story of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., that is not the only story it tells. And while it paints a detailed picture of the amazing men and women who inched their way toward equality and freedom, it doesn't allow you to forget the breadth of the canvas. Or the depth of their bravery. At 1,000 pages, this is not a simple book. But if you didn't realize that in 1961 hundreds of men and women were beaten bloody, time and time again, in bus stations and at lunch counters and in voting booths and in courthouses throughout this country, you owe yourself an education. Sometimes, it feels as if nothing has evolved in this country. This book is a strong reminder that many things have changed, and some of the most important have been for the better.
"Paris to the Moon" by Adam Gopnik: Let me be up front and say that I will be very disappointed to discover that Adam Gopnik is not an absolutely lovely man, because this collection of articles from his "Paris Journal" in The New Yorker paint some lovely pictures. The collection -- some of which I read in The New Yorker itself, all of which I read in this same book six months ago and am rereading now -- captures Gopnik, his wife and infant son as they move to, settle into and finally leave Paris. My favorite chapter comes at the end ("Angels Dining At The Ritz") because it speaks so many stories, and does it through the eyes of a five-year-old boy swimming with a five-year-old girl and discovering all of the things that get rediscovered all the way through life. "He swam, I realized, exactly the way that after five years I spoke French, which also involved a lot of clinging to the side of the pool and sudden bravura dashes out to the deep end to impress the girls, or listeners." Lyrical and poetic, these tales of life overseas are funny, poignant and familiar; they are lovely read aloud in dim light or mouthed silently on crowded trains.
"Understanding the Genome" from the editors of Scientific American: After muddling through a half-dozen dense pieces of literature with the half-assed intent of, well, understanding the damn genome, I picked this slim edition off the bookshelf. It's comprised of well-written, easy-to-read articles culled from Scientific American magazine between 1999 and 2001, and it basically serves as an intelligently accessible introduction to what is likely to be one of the revolutionary scientific (by which I also mean medical, social and cultural) tendrils of the next century.
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