We read to know we are not alone.

"...we read because we are alone. We read and we are not alone. We are not alone." 

-p. 249

"The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry" was a pleasant surprise of a find. As I was seeking a new audiobook fro the gym, I found this gem and also found a free e-reader version via Amazon. A.J. Fikry himself might be disappointed in my mediums here (rightfully so), but I'd like to think that if his bookstore, Island Books, were real and I lived on an island in New England, I'd likely be a frequent patron.

Gabrielle Zevin's story is about a bookseller who, after being widowed, is rather disconnected from humanity. But after his prized possession is stolen (and thus, his escape), and an abandoned baby is left in his story, his life changes. It just so happens that all the lives around him at that moment also change. The story covers Fikry's transformation from grumpy curmudgeon to doting father, loving husband, and loyal best friend over the course of his lifetime. In the process, we meet a cast of characters that generally warmed my heart and had interesting side stories of their own - all interwoven into the bigger story of the choices we make, the heartbreaks we have, the trials we endure and the hope we find in each other and in stories. There's also an interesting subtext of lies based on omission and the times we choose to say or not to say a truth because of our connection to it and who it implicates.

I read it mostly in a few sittings over a weekend. Well, I listened to it and followed along. There were moments I could't put it down and ended up listening and loving for a couple of hours without interruption. This was a nice distraction from my normal slow weekend of watching TV, cleaning, and prepping food. My life on weekends is mostly pretty solitary these days - and I'm ok with that. But that's probably why the quote I pulled at the top of this stuck out to me while reading.

What I loved about this book is how invested the author got me in the characters and how wonderful they were. The ending had closure, but also was open-ended enough to imagine that life moves on after this particular story - that more stories will be told even after the character's in this one have moved on. The book is also peppered with literary references and even some pop culture ones, including reflections from Mr. Fikry on several short stories to open each chapter. Reading about other people's love of reading is usually going to go over well with me.

The story has some sad moments that I also connected with. Fikry even points out that maybe that's the point of reading - to connect with ourselves, to connect with others, and to affirm emotions we are feeling in a particular moment.

Below are my favorite earmarks from the read. I recommend it to anyone.

~MJ

"Despite this, Amelia often likes the winters the best. They are the underdogs, the sleepers, the long shots. (It is not too much of a stretch to point out that this is how she sees herself too.)" - p. 12

"They had only ever discussed book but what, in this life, is more personal than books?"  - p. 18

"But me-also-thinks  my latter-day reaction speaks to the necessity of encountering stories at precisely the right time in our lives. Remember, Maya: the things we respond to at twenty are not necessarily the same things we will respond to at forty and vice versa." - p. 40

"And then, despite the fact that A.J. does not believe in God, he closes his eyes and thanks whomever, the higher power, with all his porcupine heart." -p. 76

"Friedman gets at something specific about what it is to lose someone. How it isn't one thing. He writes about you lose and lose and lose." -p. 99

"No one travels without purpose. Those who are lost wish to be lost." -p. 151

"A good marriage is, at least, one part conspiracy." -p. 154

"It is the secret fear that we are unloveable that isolates us...but it is only because we are isolated that we think we are unloveable. Someday, you do not know when, you will driving down a road. And someday, you do not know when, he, or indeed she, will be there. You will be loved because for the first time in your life, you will truly not be alone. You will have chosen to not be alone." - p. 156

"Someday, you may think of marrying. Pick someone who thinks you're the only person in the room." -p.158

"Why is 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." -p. 238

"Maya, we are what we love. We are that we love." - p. 250

"We aren't the things we collect, acquire, read. We are, for as long as we are here, only love. The things we loved. The people we loved. And these, I think these really do live on." - p. 250

"Tomorrow, maybe, he will find the words." -p. 251

Bookstores

Bookstores are some of my favorite places. I feel happy amongst books. I sometimes de-stress or distract myself by going to a book store. I also go when I'm restless and unsure of what to do - unsure of my next steps or have questions floating around my brain without completion or closure. Bookstores and libraries help in those moments. Yes, libraries too. Anywhere with books.

But a bookstore, unlike a library, is dangerous. I have a real hard time keeping my wallet closed. I've done it more this year (#smallvictories) but it's still hard. Libraries sometimes just don't have what I'm looking for (oh, the hold list). It's a process.

What was great about today is I just sat in Tattered Cover on Colfax and for a few hours, alternated between browsing and sitting in comfy chairs to sample 1-2 chapters of intriguing books. Needless to say, my "To Read" list grew. That's when I decided I would try to include that list on my blog, since I can't keep it straight anywhere else. We'll see. Books and happiness, regardless.

To Read:

"I Kill a Mockingbird" (YA Lit)

"Code Verity" (YA Lit)

"The Grapes of Wrath" and "East of Eden" (Steinbeck)

"Hologram for a King" (Eggers)

...David Sedaris...he referenced speech and debate at the beginning of one of his books!

After a debate in my head about e-books vs real books, I did purchase "A Tale for the Time Being" by Ruth Ozeki. You could say it had me at hello - or the first few pages. And so after supporting a local bookstore, I went to a local restaurant next door and read it over a glass of wine and a salad on the patio. Joys.

And I'm still finishing "The Light Between Oceans" which is really great. I am

more motivated to go to the gym knowing that is my reading material during cardio (#weirdbuttrue). Almost done and it makes me want to teach HS English and debate about choices, consequences and right and wrong. 

Needless to say, I won't run out of reading material any time soon. And I am grateful for that, and for bookstores, and for libraries, where I can get lost for hours and make lists upon lists of all the books I just have to read.

Contented sigh.

~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