The Six Books of Summer

Summer began with "The Steady Running of the Hour." Although I was ultimately disappointed by the ending, there were incredible passages throughout.

"It had taken a long time to separate her life from her death so that I could think of the first without having to think of the second. Finally I learned to let the small and simple memories float to the surface, as they did sometimes, and I no longer tried to push them down." -pp. 30
"Ashley looks at the tablecloth and shakes his head. He says that for one thing, lasting comfort becomes no comfort at all. All things in the world are perceptible only by contrast. For just as there is not heat without cold nor light without the darkness, it is climbing that throws all of Ashley's life into into sharp relief. It is climbing that makes one feel. It is the driving mountain cold that makes the fire in an alpine hut so delicious; it is the sore and cramped muscles that transform an ordinary hot bath into a sensory revelation; it is the hours of grueling ascent that make a supper of sardines and biscuits and jam so much better than a thousand dinners at the Criterion.
And it is impossible to live without hardship. The hardship of daily trifles, Ashley explains, ever accumulating and impossible to ignore, is so much meaner than pain or cold or fatigue. These annoyances make one weak and petty and shallow, just as greater struggles make one brave and wise." - pp. 81

And it continued with another amazing read by Khaled Hosseini - who has yet to disappoint me (blog here).

"But there was no forgetting. Pari hovered, unbidden, at the edge of Abdullah's vision everywhere she went. She was like the dust that clung to his shirt. She was in the silences that had become so frequent at the house, silences that welled up between their words, sometimes cold and hollow, sometimes pregnant with things that went unsaid, like a cloud filled with rain that never fell. Some nights he dreamed that he was in the desert again, alone, surrounded by mountains, and in the distance a single tiny glint of light flickering on, off, on, off, like a message...And if one day, trekking across some vast open field, despaire should take hold of him, he would stop in his tracks and shut his eyes and he would think of the falcon feather Pari had found in the desert. He would picture the feather coming loose from the bird, up in the clouds, half a mile above the world, twirling and spinning in violent currents, hurled by gusts of blustering wind across miles and miles of deserts and mountains, to finally land, of all places and against all odds, at the foot of that once boulder for his sister to find. It would strike him with wonder, then, and hope, too, that such things happened. And though he would know better, he would take heart, and he would open his eyes, and walk." -pp. 51-52. 

"The Light Between Oceans" captivated me during a long and unexpected layover at Dulles, and got me through some serious cardio at the gym.

"There are still more days to travel in this life. And he knows that the man who makes the journey has been shaped by every day and every person along the way. Scares are just another kind of memory."
"Your family's never in your past. You carry it around with you everywhere."
"It seemed his lungs could never be large enough to breath in this much air, his eyes could never see this much space, nor could he hear the full extent of the rolling, roaring ocean. For the briefest moment, he had no edges."

"A Tale for the Time Being" caught me at the right moment in the right bookstore, and carried me through too many days in Las Vegas.

"Or maybe none of these things will happen except in my mind and yours, because, like I told you, together we're making magic, at least for the time being." -pp. 5
"When you beat a drum, you create NOW, when silence becomes a sound so enormous and alive it feels like you're breathing in the clouds and the sky and your heart is the rain and the thunder. Jiko says this is an example of the  time being. Sound and no-sound. Thunder and silence." pp. 238
"In your diary, you quoted old Jiko saying something about not-knowing, how not-knowing is the most intimate way, or did i just dream that? Anyway, I've been thinking about this a lot, and I think maybe it's true, even though I don't really like uncertainty. I'd much rather know, but then again, not-knowing keeps all the possibilities open. It keeps all the worlds alive." -pp. 402

And then A.J. Fikry's tale stole my heart.

"No one travels without purpose. Those who are lost wish to be lost."
"Why is any one book different from any other book. They are different, A.J. decides, because they are. we have to look inside many. We have to believe. We agree to be disappointed sometimes so that we can be exhilarated every now and again."

More earmarks from that read here...

And I concluded an adventurous summer with "Wild: from Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail." And it was perfect.

"Thank you, I thought over and over again. Thank you. Not just for the long walk, but for everything I could feel finally gathered up inside of me; for everything the trail had taught me and everything I couldn't yet know, though I felt somehow already contained within me." 

And of course, this gem. Lots of earmarks related to mom, too, but those will be saved for another day.

And so summer ends.

As quoted in one of the summer reads, Marcel Proust says it best:

"In reality, every reader, while he's reading, is the reader of his own self. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument, which he offers to the reader to permit him  to discern what, within the book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself. The reader's recognition in his own self of what the book says is the proof of its truth."

In honor of why we read,

~MJ

Little Vows

"But in the quiet moments, in those long rides in the back of a bus or the bed of a truck, my mind always circles back to Manaar. Thinking of him, of the anguish of his final days, and my own helplessness in the face of it, makes everything I have done, everything I want to do, seem as unsubstantial as the little vows you make to yourself as you're going to sleep, the ones you've already forgotten by the time you wake up." -Khaled Hosseini, pp. 330, And the Mountains Echoed.

Hosseni's latest, to me, is about the rocky path of good intentions, unmet promises and dreams that, in reality, are harder to find. I loved the book. The reviews I read about it right after I finished included a lot of "I kept comparing it to his past two books" and "because of his first two books, I expected more." For the record, I don't think any one author's book should be compared to one of their others. I do this sometimes (most recently with Matthew Quick) but Hosseini taught me a lesson with this story.

The novel is built by several smaller vignettes, all focused on characters that are related to and impacted by a decision made in the 1950s in Afghanistan by a poor laborer. I was immediately interested in the laborer and his children. As the novel continued, I was somewhat confused and frustrated that the story didn't return to them often and instead included tales of people once, twice, three-times removed from the children. When I was finishing, however, I realized how tied each character was to the children in a complicated web of their father's decision and its results. I was once again amazed by Hosseini's ability to emotionally invest me in characters and a story over a long timeline and to teach so much among his pages.

The first lesson is that decisions can have long-lasting, unintended consequences - for better or for worse - on multiple people, whether they are, or were, directly involved.

The second lesson is that sometimes decisions are made in the hopes for a better outcome for one or more people involved. The thing about good intentions, as Hosseini explores, is that an assumption is made - an assumption that the result is one-dimensional and locked in place based on a certain decision. Path dependency is not that easy. Regardless of the intention, multiple perspectives inform the result and additional elements of the story unfold - meaning that the assumed "more perfect" outcome may still have its negativity.

The third lesson, of unmet promises, is about the things characters would say they would do, or hoped someone would do, that were never fulfilled. There is also the added fold of the inherent promises made by familial ties that are or are not honored - a mother's loyalty to her children (or lack thereof), a father's desire to provide a better life for his family (which may involve some shady dealings), siblings' connections to each other and the inability to stay together in times of hardship and despair. I feel like there is a character in this book that everyone can relate to; one person who has a similar philosophy about the influence of promises.

I related most to Markos, whose character shared the statement at the beginning of this post. Markos inherited the story of the poor laborer's family without trying, but tried diligently to connect the pieces and the people from the story. Meanwhile, he had a family of his own - a mother and friend, who was like a sister - thousands of miles away. His immediate reaction when given the opportunity to leave home was to leave. He traveled the world and made a life for himself outside of his hometown. He landed in Kabul and unexpectedly stayed there for nearly a decade, doing work that felt meaningful and purposeful and somehow more connected to his humanity than his family. And yet. And yet. The work still doesn't fulfill him completely and reminders exist in his history - the people who represent why he does his work who he left behind; his family still being disconnected from him as an adult. Although he fulfilled some of the promises he made to himself, he failed on others.

But others would probably relate to either Pari, who's connection and loyalty to family - although differently motivated - caused them to dislodge relationships, leave unfulfilled promises of education and professionalism. Sometimes, their focus too distracted them from their deeper heart's desire to explore and find meaning in the way Markos did - all around the world. And yet. And yet. They could still take stock in the moments they shared with loved ones.

The lesson of unmet promises also begs the question, can one have it all? Or do you have to, by virtue of the way the world operates, leave some promises unfulfilled in order to meet the tenants of another?

The last lesson is somewhat related - the promises we make to ourselves in our dreams - how easy are they to fulfill? And, will they be fulfilled in the way we expect them to, or are they met in smaller ways that, added up, should be just as meaningful? This is far more abstract to explain, but I do think of the dreams I have built for myself over the years that are hard to describe. And yet. And yet. When I saw "Cabaret" in New York, Alan Cumming live on stage and then less than a foot away from me outside of the theater, my heart soared. Something that I had not quite defined became real for me in those moments and I am still beaming with joy each time I see a photo, remember a song, or think of that night.

But there are several more examples of moments I had been dreaming of that didn't work out.

Hosseini's story is about both of those moments - fulfilled and unfilled dreams - realities that incur on the vows we make ourselves at bedtime, in our dreams, and in our reflections. Some of those dreams will never become a reality because of their impossibility, or improbability; some may, but they'll be realized in a way that is perhaps different than what one previously assumed. Or, they may be completely realized - but at what cost? And even more, what changes about ourselves, our acceptance of our identities, and about our choices, after the fact?

It was an incredible novel and I am grateful to have read it. Hosseini needs to keep writing. His stories are the reason why we tell stories - to feel and to learn.

~MJ

"He woke from these dreams with a howl locked in his chest. Bouts of weeping sideswiped him at random moments.
And yet.
And yet.
Something else was happening as well. The new awareness had not fade from his mind, but slowly it had found company. Another, opposing current of consciousness coursed through him now, one that did not displace the first but claimed space beside it..." -pp. 287

Reading - my workout and bedtime pastime.

All of the reading I've been doing lately happens in three places: at my bedside (tried and true), at the gym (thank goodness for e-books and audio books) and on airplanes (when I can stay awake). So much good reading is happening and I am thrilled. Here's the update:

Finished:

"Winter's Tale" by Mark Helprin: I liked the book overall but goodness it was long. I got a little lost in the fantasy element by the end of the book, but I really loved Helprin's main character, Peter Lake. I also enjoyed how Helprin brought together so many disparate characters. I think what was strange about the fantasy element was the timeline - Helprin brought the characters to the late 1990s, but having written it in the 80s, it felt  not quite right. I couldn't place the time he was actually aiming to convey.

"The Steady Running of the Hour" by Justin Go: I really loved most of this book. It was beautifully written and had a mystery and some travel to follow. The ending, however, was disappointing. I felt like I invested a lot in the main character's storyline and didn't get many answers. The storyline with the older characters, in World War I, was awesome, though.

Currently Reading:

"And the Mountains Echoed" by Khaled Hosseini: It's finally out in paperback. About page 100 I realized, "oh, wow. That's what this is about." And I can't wait to keep reading.
"The Light Between Oceans" by M.L. Stedman: I picked this up when I had a crazy long layover and felt reader's block. This has been a great gym book (got the audiobook via audible with a credit) and so far has been an intriguing read.

In Progress, but not actively reading:

"Start with Why" by Simon Sinek: This was a great bike ride book, but got very repetitive. I liked the message but felt it was largely anecdotal and said the same thing over and over again.
"Hard Choices" by Hilary Clinton: Love Hillary. This was a great gym book but I was disappointed when the audio version no longer featured Hillz. I guess she's busy, so I'll get back to the hard back when I need my political fix.
"The Good Luck of Right Now" by Matthew Quick: Loved The Silver Linings Playbook and this book started with high hopes. I like the main character but it got slower for me. The format (in letters to Richard Gear) got somewhat uncomfortable. But, I may revisit because I am invested in the characters.

One of these days, I'll get back to actually writing about reading.

~MJ