<i>The Complete Persepolis</i> by Marjane Satrapi

Going into this book (or, rather, graphic novel), I knew little-to-nothing about Iran. Satrapi give an interesting description about how a more secular family dealt with the Iranian revolution and the Iran-Iraq wars. I had a much better sense by the end of what had happened in Iran, how its people where affected and the breadth of cultures that existed in Iran during that time (for example, I was surprised to find out there was a Jewish population in Iran).

One thing that Jason pointed out after reading this book was there were plenty of Iranians who didn't agree with the Islamic rule---the idea of wearing a veil was just as foreign to them as to any Westerner. That point was very clear in what Strapi described: parties and drinking still went on, they just had to be very careful and ready to clear the men out at a moment's notice.

In the same vein, Strapi described how the veil was subverted. How hair could be shown or how a woman could indicate her figure by the way she wore it. I figured that any woman that would want to could get her point across even with a veil in the way.

One of the major themes of the book was the ability to fit-in, whether that be in Europe or back in Iran after Strapi completed high school. Since she had a secular education and was able to live outside the repressive regime, moving back would be difficult. But, living abroad was almost as bad: Iran was still her country and no one had any idea of the terror she had experienced as a child except her own countrymen.

This book is the first graphic novel I have read. I thought the form added to the experience of reading it. There were not only the words to guide you through Strapi's experience, but also the images she used to represent them. One particular part that exemplifies this is how she described how quickly she matured around age 15/16. She draws a pictures showing how she grew unevenly---"first one eye, then the other"---giving a graphic representation of just how awkward she felt.

An excellent read that I couldn't put down. Highly recommended.

10/10

<i>The Great Santini</i> by Pat Conroy

This is a book I should have read in high school.

A ticket taker on the train saw it and said that when he read it, he made it about 2/3rds of the way through when he got so mad at the story that he had to put it down for a few days. Based on that, I expected there to be a huge blow out between Ben and his father. Though there are a number of incidents, there was nothing obscene enough to make me put the book down.

I appreciated the complexity that Conroy gave Ben's father. Though the Marine attitude was getting on my nerves quite a bit, there was more dimension to Bull's character. He had fun with his kids and gave up his post to make sure his son was safe. It was easy to hate him, but it was hard to say that he had no redeeming qualities---something that Ben realized by the end.

I generally liked Ben. I was pissed---just as he was---that he listened to his father in the basketball game. The better strategy is to take it and just play tougher---get revenge in regular play. One of the things, though, that Ben was learning was when he should and when he shouldn't listen to his father. Mary Ann was generally his conscience on such matters, but she couldn't be with him on the court, and, indeed, was nowhere to be found in the stands.

Overall, a good book. Conroy was tight with his prose and portrayed the characters motives and ideals clearly. I would like to know what happened to Ben. I assume he became a pilot to honor his father. But it would have been poetic justice to see him become an English professor.

8/10

<i>The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts</i> by Maxine Hong Kingston

This book was again recommended by Slate.com. It was given as an example of a memoir where fantasy and history are mixed to better convey the memories. Kingston does this by seeing herself, for a portion of the book, as Mu Lan, the female Chinese warrior, avenging the deaths in her village. One of the interesting aspects of the book, demonstrated by this, is the tie to the old world of China through her parent's stories and beliefs. Her parents do not think of the US as their home: home is China, even for all the children (all of them born in the US). It isn't until the communists completely change the lives of the villagers in China that the parents gave up on returning and bought chairs to replace the fruit crates in the kitchen.

Related to that, was the use of the term "ghost" for any Americans. I know in Hong Kong the term "gweilo" is used (derogatorily) for whites and means "ghost". It seems on the west coast in Chinatown, it was used to refer to all things American: black, white, otherwise. Anything not Chinese.

The two cultures colliding in Kingston's head appeared difficult for her to reconcile. She had the history, culture and stories of China as strongly in her life as if she was in China, including the attitudes toward women (girls are worth nothing; men can have multiple wives). She was, though, interacting in the American world with "ghost teachers" and pleasing them with the work she was able to do.

Kingston's writing is strong, vivid and precise. I felt her angst and shame as I read. I enjoyed the stories about her mother's life: about becoming a doctor in China; about forcing her sister to see her (her mother's sister's) estranged husband; about her reaction to retirement and an empty house (working in the California fields as a day laborer picking tomatoes). Her mother is a strong woman, even pushing to the front of a memoir about childhood.

8/10

<i>Unreliable Memories</i> by Clive James

I am struck by how many personal histories of current British personalities include intensely remembered tales of mutual masturbation. at ages of about 6 to 10. Stephen Fry has such a mention in his autobiography. And Clive James, though really Australian, includes one here. I can swear I've read others, as well.

I hadn't heard of Clive James until recently when some essays and interviews by him began appearing on Slate.com. The recommendation for his memoirs also came from Slate.

The book covers James's boyhood, adolescence and young adulthood in Australia. I am reminded again, as I was when I read Bryson's In a Sunburned Country that it is purely by good luck that anyone survives in Australia. There are so many things that can kill you. James tells stories of his near misses, paranoid moments and petrified situations. Many of them, though, seem to be brought on by his own actions, inattentiveness or negligence.

James is a funny and engaging writer. He writes regrettably about his callous actions toward his motion, using his writing as a therapy for laying bare the insolence of his past. (I have a feeling that many writers use memoirs to do just this.) He is almost exasperated at his own past actions---seeing clearly his mis-steps and mistakes with the clarity of hindsight. Though he regrets some of his past, he has resigned himself to accept it---though not fully---placing blame on the circumstances rather than people (except for a few bad teachers).

The stories that make up the book are great. I particularly liked his tale of tunneling up the backyard ("Little kids ruin everything") and those from his stint in the National Service. He tells the stories with humor and comments on how these experiences still influence him today.

James spent much of his young life doing little but angering his mother. This work, in part, seems to try to make amends for that by bringing meaning to his own past; making it clearer for himself, while providing excellent stories for us to enjoy. Highly recommended.

10/10

<i>The Virgin Suicides</i> by Jeffery Eugenides

This was a very intense book. In that respect it reminded me of Ethan Froam. Throughout the story you have a sense of the tragedy that will come, but you don't yet know the true horror/terror of it until the last few pages.

The descriptions of the house embodied the intensity of the book. The first descriptions are about the thickness of the hormones, etc. that are found in a house where five teenage girls are cooped up. The image of the always-damp bathroom sort of made my skin crawl. Thinking about the moist dead skin even now gives me the heebie-jeebies.

The book, I believe, is trying to make the argument that you can't hold people back from the world. Individuals must have some outlet for their lives. If none is given, one will be found. First it was Lux on the roof, later it was the deaths of all the girls. The only parts of their lives where they felt they still had control was the matter of their death. Breath and heart beats were all they could master.

The entire cavalcade of protection brought on by Celia's death was understandable. The lack of adjustment of that protection seemed to be what did the girls in. The father was helpless---thought I don't know why; maybe the outward appearance of the house represented the inward feelings of the mother?

The point of view for this book---sort of juvenile stalkers recounting their collection---added to the intensity. These now-middle-aged men still spent their time going over and over their collections, bringing back sacred memories. Just a bit creepy. It makes it tightly and seemingly lovingly (in the manner of the first half of Lolita) written. I found, though, that I had to step away from the story to break the intensity. I couldn't have read it in one sitting---though it seemed to beg to be.