Going Viral

I may have mentioned a few months ago I tried reading Stephen King’s The Stand. Definitely too soon.

Being fully vaccinated, and more than a little hopeful, I was still a little hesitant to open one of the books recommended for this week’s challenge. The Pull of the Stars  by Emma Donoghue, as you might expect, also largely takes place in a room. This time it’s in the maternity ward of a hospital in Dublin set during another pandemic, the Great Flu of 1918. Julia, an experienced nurse, cares for her charges despite the scarcity of supplies. In the midst of the inherent drama and uncertainty of childbirth, Julia finds herself drawn to the volunteer helper who infuses the ward with a different kind of life. An added bonus is the inclusion of propaganda signs that might sound more than a little familiar.

Libby’s algorithm also led me to an older book by Alice Hoffman called At Risk. Set during the height of the US AIDS epidemic of the 1980s, it follows a family living in New England. Polly, the mother, has just taken on a new project, photographing the seances of a local seer. Her husband Ivan is an astronomer who has passed his love of science onto their eight-year-old Charlie. Their daughter Amanda is excited about the prospects of her middle school gymnastics team. When Amanda gets sick, her pediatrician decides to check her for the virus.  When the result comes back positive, friendships, school policies, and her parent’s marriage are also tested.

#vanlife

Thanks to Instagram, my daughter wants to live in a van when she grows up. Turns out it's in her genes.

To educate myself more about her aspirations, I sought out Jessica Bruder’s Nomadland. The book follows several van and RV dwellers through temp jobs , caravans, and conventions.

Many in the nomad community support themselves through seasonal jobs. Amazon actively recruits this demographic to work in their warehouses, bending, lifting, and doing repetitive, mind-numbing work, for around $13 an hour. Another popular option is working as a camp host at campgrounds around the country cleaning latrines, picking up trash, and policing noise.

Between gigs they gather in the desert of Arizona with like minded folks, swapping goods, advising the newbies, making treks to Mexico for cheap dental work and prescriptions, and figuring out how to rig their ride to cook, shower, or pee more efficiently.

In a sense, this lifestyle offers freedom from debt, cutting ties from property ownership, taxes, and storage units. For some this is a choice, but for many others in the book, it’s a last resort solution. As Bruder writes, “The last free place in America is a parking spot.”

Home foreclosures, lost jobs, divorces have set them on this path. For others, affording an apartment near their workplace is impossible. Some have retired, selling their home to fund the first leg of their journey.

Although I haven’t seen the movie inspired by the book, I would like to watch it with my daughter. Either the difficulties of the lifestyle will dissuade her, or its joys will entice her even more. Regardless, this book will be required summer reading.

Sonic Youth

The heat wave in Washington this week (it got up to 84, y’all), reminded me of this post from 2009. It makes me nostalgic, not only for air conditioning, but also because that three year old can now drive herself to Sonic.

The air conditioner in my apartment sucks. This is June in Texas after all. So I pile the kids in the station wagon and drive down the block to Sonic. Rolling down the windows lets in a light breeze tinged with the smell of the afternoon’s tater tots. Moments later our drinks arrive. I unwrap the extra straw to keep the nine-month-old occupied, hand back the strawberry shake to my daughter, and open The Red Convertible.

Louise Erdrich’s collection of short stories is part tart, part sweet, just like the cherry limeade in the cup holder. And I even manage to finish a couple of the stories before my three-year-old pokes a hole in the Styrofoam cup, and we find a use for all those extra napkins.

Looking for more summer reads? Try this list for 2021.

 

“It is written, and once written, things aren’t easily forgotten.”

My sister told me that she’s given up watching or reading anything in which women or children are harmed. After reading The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave, I’m inclined to consider adopting the policy.

Set in the 1600s in a remote village in Norway, The Mercies begins with the aftermath of a storm that decimates the male population. Maren loses her father and fiancée, becoming the provider for her aging mother and brother’s widow. Despite the taboo against women fishing, she begins going out each day with a small group in an effort to keep her family from starving.

Meanwhile, another young woman, Ursa, has just found out she’s been promised in marriage to a Scotsman Absalom Cornet. Absalom and Ursa sail to Maren’s village where he’s to investigate rumors of witchcraft. When investigations turn into accusations, the women must suffer horrors greater even than the ravages of the storm.

Although the events portrayed are indeed gruesome, they aren't gratuitous. Sometimes we have to be reminded of the violence perpetuated in the past to keep us vigilant for the potential threats in our present.

Lila and Hadley

Looking for a book featuring a beloved pet where the pet doesn’t die? Honestly, I wasn’t either until this week’s challenge. But then I wouldn't have discovered Lila and Hadley by Kody Keplinger.

After her mom goes to prison, Hadley goes to live with her older sister Beth. Looking for ways to get her out of the house, Beth takes her to the rescue where she works as a trainer. Although Hadley protests that she’s more of a cat person, she comes across Lila, a morose pit bull. Because Lila perks up when she meets Hadley, they decide Hadley should try her hand at fostering, and with Beth’s help, training.

This middle-grade read would be great for a classroom discussion on anger and forgiveness. And the subplot of Hadley learning to cope with her failing eyesight could also spark a conversation on living with a disability. Or if you have a young animal lover, it could also be an engaging summer read, just for the fun of it.

Reframing

 Last week I heard a report on NPR about TCM Reframed, a new series that looks at old movies to discuss why they may be  problematic through a modern lens – or in many cases, why they may have always been problematic. For example, last summer, we watched Grease with our kids and found just as many cringe-worthy as sing-along moments. You may remember this article that Molly Ringwald wrote about watching her own movies with her daughter post #metoo.

As readers, we may find this same experience in looking back at “classics.” Luckily, many authors have done the difficult work for us of reframing many of these stories in ways that are more inclusive and representative.  

Remember the reading challenge? Recently I found two examples through challenge 17 and challenge 8 of classic tales retold.

Roman and Jewel by Dana L. Davis

Fans of Hamilton will revel in the behind-the-scenes drama of a modern spin on Romeo and Juliet. Jerzie Jhames receives her big break when she’s cast as an understudy in a new Broadway musical. Her talent soon catches the attention of the leading man and sparks simmer. When a video of the star’s less than stellar performance goes viral, Jerzie must decide if she’s going to stand by her man or in the spotlight.

 Peter Darling by Austin Chant

“Then his eyes traipsed back to the stranger’s face, to his callous, boyish grin, and Hook’s stomach dropped with sudden revelation.

“You.”

Peter Pan grinned at him.

“Me.”

After many years away, Peter has returned to Neverland. He reconnects with the Lost Boys and is eager to rekindle the war with his nemesis Hook. But as the violence escalates, he begins to remember his first trip out of the nursery window, when he was named Wendy. As the story unfolds, Hook and Peter develop an uneasy alliance which leads to revelation, and eventually release, from a fictional world into a real one.

Whereas

You may have noticed on your social media feed that May 5 is National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. While looking into the history of this, I discovered another news item I missed from April. A unit within the Bureau of Indian Affairs has been created to investigate murdered and missing Native Americans. The unit was recently announced by the first Native American cabinet secretary, Interior Secretary Deb Haaland. On a related note, you might listen to this 2020 episode of TAL, featuring a story about Lissa Yellow Bird, who has been investigating missing persons from her community since 2016.

Violence against native American peoples is nothing new in our history. But whether it's taught in our history classes is another matter. One text we might turn to is Whereas by Layli Long Soldier. Through poetry and prose, she offers her lament for 38 Dakota men who were ordered to execution by hanging by President Lincoln. She also responds to a 2009 apology offered by the US government which was buried in the 2010 Defense Appropriations Act. She discusses her response and other reflections on mothering, trusting, and writing in an especially gripping episode of On Being.

"I’m certain
that certain kinds of talk only = pain
excusing myself I paddle deep
in high grass waves I’m safer
outdoors than in /
in those heady grasses the mouth loosens confesses:
I don’t trust nobody but the land I said”
―Layli Long Soldier, Whereas