Happy Halloween, May It R.I.P. V

Somehow, I was able to complete Madame Bovary, Part 1 of A Void, and Peril the First for Carl's R.I.P.V this month, along with preparing report cards, conference notes for next week, and keeping the lid on 26 eight year olds who are beyond excited about Halloween. Thank goodness it doesn't come during a school night this year!

The requirement for the first peril was to read four books for the challenge; I read:

1. Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith
2. Bleak House by Charles Dickens
3. Nighttime Too Afraid to Scream by Todd Stasser
4. The Victorian Chaise-Longue by Marghanita Laski
5. The Tales of Beedle The Bard by J. K. Rowling

Nighttime Too Afraid to Scream and The Tales of Beedle The Bard were read-alouds to my class. The later was a bit grim for third graders, in my opinion, but I wanted them to hear some compelling short stories and to be aware that J. K. Rowling is not confined to only Harry Potter. Nighttime Too Afraid To Scream was a book that I liked as much as they did. It had stories with a clever twist, and often a lesson, like "The Phantom Phone" which texted messages such as, "Don't Lie" when it's owner did.

But, my all time favorite was The Victorian Chaise-Longue. That book truly creeped me out, in a way I'll never forget. It will literally haunt me for quite some time to come, especially when I lay down for a nap and wonder, "What if I wake up somewhere else? Someone else?" It's not a major worry, mind you, just a nagging, autumnal thought.

Carl, we've come a long way from your first R.I.P. I thank you so much for this, your fifth, because now I have been introduced to more authors I want to read in the year to come: Shirley Jackson, Sarah Waters and Robert Louis Stevenson to name a few.

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (Part 3)

Everything, even herself, was now unbearable to her. She wished that, taking wing like a bird, she could fly somewhere, far away to regions of purity, and there grow young again.

Neither Charles nor the Viscount, Leon nor Rodolphe, her daughter, Berthe, nor the things she bought from Monsieur Lhereux, could bring joy to Madame Bovary. To the bitter end happiness eluded her. How tragic that Emma could not escape her discontent. She could not turn her choices around once made, and even those men who claimed to love her (Leon and Rodolphe) in the end did not.

Which in my mind, gives some redeeming grace to Charles. He may have been incompetent, he may have been foolishly deceived, but he always loved her. Always. Even though it was not reciprocated. No, Emma had to fall for idols, for unattainable wishes and dreams, for fulfillment which she never could quite grasp. How ironic that all the while Charles stood by worshipping her.

But the disparaging of those we love always alienates us from them to some extent. We must not touch our idols; the gilt sticks to our fingers.

A big thank you to Frances, who gathered us together to read this novel. For some of us, it may have been the first time. For others, it was a third or fourth reread. But, for all of us it was a joy to share in the experience together. I learned so much from all your posts, fellow read-along participants.

A Void (Part 1)

Things look normal, but looks can play tricks on you. Things at first look normal, till, abruptly, abnormality, horrifying in its inhumanity, swallows you up and spits you out. (p. 23)

In his novel, A Void, George Perec purposefully leaves out the most frequently used letter of the alphabet in order to tell his story. The e is clearly missing, one knows this as one begins reading, but soon its absence becomes barely discernable at all. Such is the quality of his writing.

(I wonder how many of those in the read-along will try to write their posts without an e; if successful, they'd be far more clever than I can attempt on this dreary October eve. Maybe I'll see how many words with an e I can purposefully employ. ;)

At any rate, to signify the letter e, Perec has created Anton Vowl who by page 40 has gone missing. Amaury Conson, his bosom buddy, begins a search for his missing friend. He follows clues which Anton had left in a postcard, that take him to such obscure places as the zoo, while mentioning authors as diverse as Mishima, Dick Francis, and Herman Melville.

As I finished Part 1, and turned the page to find Part III (whatever has happened to Part II?!*) I found that not only is Anton Vowl missing, but so is the body of solicitor Hassan Ibn Abbou. However his absence fits with Anton Vowl remains to be seen.

There is a void, a possible abduction, or body-snatching everywhere one turns.

*Richard explained in his comment left on my initial thoughts post, that Part II is missing as e is the second in the list of vowels: a e i o u. I can see I need to think even more carefully as I read the parts which Perec has included, as well as the parts he has omitted. He is as tricky as they come.

Sunday Afternoon...Hayride in The Woods

Danada Equestrian Center
Wheaton, IL

(Click on the collage to enlarge.)

A Void (Initial Thoughts)

A Void. A work by Georges Perec which follows lipogrammatic constraints; meaning, there's no letter 'e' in the whole book. (It was translated that way into English, as well.)

Last week it dawned on me how clever the title alone is. A void as in an emptiness, a gap, a hole where the letter 'e' should be. Or, avoid as in completely leave it alone.

If the first two words of such a work can be so fraught with meaning, what does that bode for my comprehension of the rest of the work? I'm reading it with my computer's browser open to Google, let me tell you.

How interesting to find this quote then, indicating that the absence of the most commonly used letter in the alphabet is tied to the loss of Perec's parents:

"The absence of a sign is always the sign of an absence, and the absence of the E in A Void announces a broader, cannily coded discourse on loss, catastrophe, and mourning. Perec cannot say the words père ["father"], mère ["mother"], parents ["parents"], famille ["family"] in his novel, nor can he write the name Georges Perec. In short, each "void" in the novel is abundantly furnished with meaning, and each points toward the existential void that Perec grappled with throughout his youth and early adulthood. A strange and compelling parable of survival becomes apparent in the novel, too, if one is willing to reflect on the struggles of a Holocaust orphan trying to make sense out of absence, and those of a young writer who has chosen to do without the letter that is the beginning and end of écriture ["writing"]." ~Warren Motte

For one who is constantly interested in the theme of loss, I'm going to try my best with this novel. I may need a little help, Richard, along the way.

The Victorian Chaise Longue

What did I say, she asked herself when the effort had been made, something about machines that fly, or was it aeronautic machines? Wireless, she screamed in her mind, television, penicillin, gramophone-records and vaccum-cleaners, but none of these words could be framed by her lips. I can think them, why can't I say them? she begged; can I introduce nothing into this real past?--and if I cannot, then even these thoughts I am thinking, has Milly thought them before? But things can't happen twice, she told herself wearily, closing her eyes, the momentary relaxation over, the racking torture established again, I must always have been Milly and Milly me. It is now that is present reality and the future is still to come. But if I have to wait for the future, if it is only in time to come that I shall be Melanie again, then that time must come again too when Sister Smith leaves me to sleep on the chaise-longue, and I wake up in the past. I shall never escape-and the eternal prison she imagined consumed her mind, and she fainted or dozed off into a nightmare of chase and pursuit and loss. 

What is frightening? Not the typical lore of Halloween: ghosts, goblins, ghouls.

To me, what is most frightening is real life gone awry. Just a little twist, a little tweak, a little shade off center. We experience this in those dreams from which we cannot run away fast enough. We cannot scream loudly enough for someone to hear us. We cannot wake up from a nightmare which appears to be reality.

In The Victorian Chaise Longue, Melanie Langdon, who is recovering not only from the birth of her baby but from a terrible disease which troubles her lungs, decides to rest on the Victorian chaise longue she bought in an antique store. It is upholstered in red wool and tapestry, a sturdy and comfortable piece of furniture which appears to be the perfect thing for her to lie upon.

Only, it isn't.

When she wakes, it is not to any life she knows. It is to inhabit the body of Milly Baines, also suffering from consumption, in 1864. In a kind of virtual time travel, Melly experiences Milly's life, which weaves in and out of similarity to her own. No one believes her when she tells them who she really is, nor when she tells the doctor how she could recover with fresh air and sunlight. She is trapped within her own life and another's, the two of which are difficult to separate. Even if she could.

This was an immensely satisfying read of pure terror and suspense. It reminds me too closely of dreams and experiences I've suffered in which I've wondered, "What if this is my real life, and what I thought was real is not?" I read it for Carl's RIP V, and I highly recommend it for you.

Find other reviews from Nymeth, Claire, Tracey, Novel Insights, and Isabella.

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (Part 2)

But the more Emma recognised her love, the more she crushed it down, that it might not be evident, that she might make it less. She would have liked Leon to guess it, and she imagined chances, catastrophes, that should facilitate this. What restrained her was, no doubt, idleness and fear, and a sense of shame also. She thought she had repulsed him too much, that the time was past, that all was lost. Then, pride, the joy of being able to say to herself, "I am virtuous," and to look at herself in the glass taking resigned poses, consoled her a little for the sacrifice she believed she was making.

Then the lusts of the flesh, the longing for money, and the melancholy of passion all blended themselves into one suffering, and instead of turning her thoughts from it, she clave to it the more, urging herself to pain, and seeking everywhere occasion for it. She was irritated by an ill-served dish or by a half-open door; bewailed the velvets she had not, the happiness she had missed, her too exalted dreams, her narrow home.

In Part 2 Leon departs Yonville, to which the Bovarys have moved in the hopes of improving Emma's humour. Unable to declare his affection for her, Leon leaves in despair for Paris, and Emma continues to flounder until the arrival of Rodolphe Boulanger.

Rodolphe, the charmer of women, tells Madame Bovary such lies as these while they are listening to the councillor's speech at the fair:

"Ah! again!" said Rodolphe. "Always 'duty.' I am sick of the word. They are a lot of old blockheads in flannel vests and old women with foot-warmers and rosaries who constantly drone into our ears "Duty, duty!" Ah! by Jove! one's duty is to feel what is great, cherish the beautiful, and not accept all the conventions of society with the ignominy that it imposes upon us."

"Yet-yet--" objected Madame Bovary.

She still has the sense to disagree with the deception which flows from Rodolphe in the form of elegance, charm and fancy speeches. But, not for long. Her demise is slowly being revealed page by page since the novel began, first with her attraction for the Viscount at the ball, then Leon, and now Rodolphe who pulls away from her the more she clings to him.

Her life means nothing to him. At least, not as much as his own.

All the while, Emma's despair grows.

I can't help but wonder if Hippolyte's club foot, rotting away in the wooden box that Charles made for it, is in some way symbolic of Emma rotting away in the 'box he made for her' with his "incurable incapacity." In order for Hippolyte to survive, his foot had to be removed. But, Emma is not removing anything which causes her to slowly rot away. Rather, she continues to pursue her desires with Leon even after suffering Rodolphe's disappearance.

I am reading this with Frances, and others, for the Madame Bovary read-along this October.

The Next Queen of Heaven by Gregory Maguire

It was funny how the world seemed smaller and less deliberately set on its pilings these days. How quickly things could change. One moment, Mom could be her old salt-of-the-earth self, Leontina Scales, running up potholders on her faithful Singer sewing machine with the treadle and the wheel to raise money for the Pentecostal missionaries in Ecuador or Peru or some other part of Africa. The next moment she was no better than a crazy Catholic lady escaped from the loony bin. How the world could shiver when it wanted. All the earthquakes weren't on the West Coast. Linda Pearl put her faith in hair fashions but Tabitha was finding this wasn't quite enough. Nothing was quite enough. (p. 203)

The year is 1999. The town of Thebes is faced with the new millennium and all that it may bring. But before they can embrace the new, they must face the pain of the old.

A cross between holiness and irreverence, this novel contains everything you may hope to expect in a depiction of family and all its dysfunctionality. (Or, is it today's normalcy?) Mrs. Leontina Scales, while stealing milk from Our Lady for the coffee hour at her own church, The Radical Radiants Pentecostal, is bonked on the head from a falling statue of the Virgin Mary. She promptly loses the beginning of her words, which makes her dialogue an intriguing interpretation of one's relationship with God. An example, from when she has returned to the Catholic church since her injury occurred:

Following, they found her on the floor beside the refrigerator, lying like a corpse, hands folded over her breast, eyes open. She was training her gaze on the top of the Kelvinator where, if Huyck had the story straight, a crappy old statue of Our Lady had been lurking, waiting for its victim. "Other of God, pray for us sinners," said Mrs. Scales.

Her daughter, Tabitha, steps in as mother of the family. Pregnant herself, Tabitha's baby and the Christmas pageant depicting the birth of Baby Jesus, are oddly aligned...as if she can name her baby Jesus, too. Or, Jesus Two.

It is abundantly clear that Gregory McGuire is familiar with scripture, with biblical story, and he is quite adept at interjecting verses in a compelling way. A way that makes us examine our faith be it Catholic, Protestant, or non-theistic.

Reasoning that if her mother's thinking was skewed by a knock on the head, perhaps another hit from a rock will bring it back. After a particularly exasperating exchange with her mother, Tabitha is discovered carrying "a boulder the size of a Mrs. Chanrinjee Pyrex casserole" by Pastor Jakob Huyck.

"Where are you going with that thing?" said Pastor Huyck.

"It's a long story."

He looked as if he were ready for a long story. "Get in...And the rock?"

"I wanted to brain my mother and put her out of her misery."

He laughed. "I like you, Tabitha, I like your style. If your son shall ask for bread, would you give him a stone?" (Matthew 7:9)

If you don't know much about scripture, the verses may be hidden from you; to me, they were a joy and delight to find even if they were found in an unusual context. (One of the things I remember most clearly about MaGuire's book, Wicked, is the reference he made to the witch melting away when water was thrown on her because water is purification; a form of baptism if you will.)

The novel has much more than Tabitha and her mother. There are wonderful nuns, three gay men who long to perform for an AIDS benefit in Manhattan, and the interaction between them. There is a look at pastors and priests and parishioners, and the routines which we have established in church. There is fabulous dialogue, sarcasm and wit. At many times I felt like I was reading something which is akin to Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections and Augusten Burrough's Running With Scissors; The Next Queen of Heaven is quirky, it is comical, it throbs with irreverence bordering on the profane as it examines our roles and our journeys.

(More information can be found at TLC Book Tours here.)

10 Essential Penguin Classics, Redux

A note from Penguin:

Last year, Penguin compiled a list of the 10 Essential Penguin Classics we thought every person should read. We thought our list was complete. We were wrong.

Thanks to your outstanding, passionate feedback (Where was Don Quixote? War and Peace? On the Road?) the list is being recreated, this time by YOU.

What are YOUR Top 10 Essential Penguin Classics? Click here to peruse the longlist of 100 and then vote for your top 10 before November 1st. Everyone who votes will be entered for a chance to win a wonderful prize—one of three tote bags filled with three of our much-beloved Penguin Deluxe Classics—so make sure your voice is heard!

In November we will announce a shortlist of 25 Classics, curated entirely by YOUR votes and opinions. Check for updates regularly on the Top 10 Essential Penguin Classics website and chat about your choices at the Essential Classics Redux community page.

The ten which I voted for from this list include:

1. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
2. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
3. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
4. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
5. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
6. Madame Bovary by Gustauve Flaubert
7. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
8. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
9. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
10. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

...and your list? Which titles do you feel deserve the top ten place?

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (Part 1)

"Before marriage she thought herself in love; but the happiness that should have followed this love not having come, she must, she thought, have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what one meant exactly in life by the words felicity, passion, rapture, that had seemed to her so beautiful in books." (end of Chapter 5)

It's a terrible thing when one's expectations are so high they cannot possibly be met. Most certainly, if a woman is discontent with her life, a man will not be able to rescue her from it. Especially if he is a man who is kind, gentle, and unambitious. A man who is complacent at best, mundane at worst. A man such as Charles Bovary.

"A man, on the contrary, should he not know everything, excel in manifold activities, initiate you into the energies of passion, the refinements of life, all mysteries? But this one taught nothing, knew nothing, wished nothing."

Practically pulled through medical school by his mother's good intentions, and rescued from a miserable marriage when his first wife died, Charles Bovary is becoming a doctor of some renown in the small town of Tostes. But, this is not enough for Emma who hopes for so much more.

The ball to which they were invited was the icing on the cake. After their return, Emma mopes about the cottage; the gray wool socks she wears seem to match the gray and rainy skies both outside her window and within her soul. It is a depression born of selfishness, and it can only bring woe.

"But she-her life was cold as a garret whose dormer window looks on the north, and ennui, the silent spider was weaving its web in the darkness in every corner of her heart."

All quotes are from the Barnes and Noble classic fiction edition which I have downloaded on my Nook. Thanks to Frances, of Nonsuch Book, for hosting our read-along of Madame Bovary.

Read A Myth Challenge and A Little Help, Please

It was exciting to open my Google Reader this morning and discover that JoV of Bibliojunkie and Bina of If You Can Read This are hosting the Read A Myth Challenge which begins January 1 through December 31, 2011.

Here are the levels:

Level 1 Athena: That’s a Myth!
Read any two (2) books about myths.

Level 2 Erlang Chen: Demystify the Myth!

Read any four (4) books about myths.

Level 3 Mimir: World Myth!

Read any 6 books from the myth series must covers 2 different countries, including any one from the following list:

• non-fiction book on the study of mythology (figure), or
• Karen Armstrong’s A short history of myth,
• or The original text of myth (many to choose from the Greek Mythology)

Level 4 Ogma: The God of all Myths!
Mix and match of any 8 books from the myth series or any mythology books, with the following conditions:

•  Must cover more than 3 countries.
•  Must contain at least 1 non-fiction book on mythology study.

So, here's the deal. Knowing that I love novels best, I wanted to find books which were based on myth. In my search, Haruki Murakami's A Wild Sheep Chase came up, as well as his Kafka On The Shore, both of which I've read. But, these are exactly the kind of thing I want: a wonderful author doing something unusual with myth in there somewhere.

Only, I don't know many titles like that. All I have so far is Angela Carter's The Magical Toyshop.

 So, do you have any suggestions for me?

After a bit of research, I'm thinking of these titles:

• The Winter Room by Gary Paulsen
• The Centaur by John Updike (winner of National Book Award)
• The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
• The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Salman Rushdie
• Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith
• Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman
• The Whale Rider by Witi Ihimaera

Have you any thoughts on these? To me, they all look wonderful!

Dewey's Nine Lives by Vicki Myron

Every time I saw my kitty, Minou, this weekend I picked her up. I held her for untold moments, out of sheer gratitude for having a sweet one of my own. And to think a few years ago, I didn't even like cats.

But, if you don't like cats?  Dewey's Nine Lives will change your mind.

And, if you do like cats? If you are already so fortunate as to live with a cat? This book will touch every chord in your heart.

I could only read a few chapters at a time, and then I had to put it down to reflect for awhile. On the magic that Dewey created; on the magic found in these pages between a cat and its owner. For it's a palpatable thing, this magical relationship. And the stories of the cats, of the people who befriended them, made me cry.

The stories show the vulnerable side of us. The hurting and lonely and aching side of some, the longing for connection from others, and the way that cats have comforted us by their very quiet, peaceful presence.

My copy came with a bookmark. It lists Dewey's Nine Rules to Live by for Cats and Their People:

1. Find your place-and make it your own.
2. Independence is essential, but so are people.
3. Explore. Life is so much more fun for the curious.
4. Enjoy the simple things, like cardboard boxes and snuggling.
5. Every once in awhile, surprise someone you love by jumping on thier lap when they least expect it.
6. You're never too old to sniff the catnip and play hide and seek.
7. Everyone is a potential friend. So always say "hi".
8. Just being there is often the best comfort you can give.
9. Read with someone every day. Even your cat.

When I told my parents how much I loved this book, they immediately told me a story of the kitties in their barn. The way that one of them came home injured, and how he had to be cared for. Reading of Dewey, and the cats that are in this book, naturally brings to mind stories of our own. Do you have one to share? There is a story writing contest here where you can "submit a true personal story about a cat that has touched your life or the life of someone you know; a cat that exemplifies the spirit of Dewey the cat."

Or, if you'd like to connect with Dewey on Facebook you can click here.

Finally, you can see the trailer of Dewey's Nine Lives here.

He truly was a magical cat. Probably a lot like the one you love yourself, or would, if you could give in to one.

The Voyage Of The Dawn Treader Film and "Read-Along"

This poster is for the release of the film in Poland on October 6. It is not planned to be released in America until December 10, 2010.

Which gives me plenty of time to reread this classic Narnia tale. Would you care to join in? I'm thinking we could post at the beginning of December, whenever around that time frame that works for you.

I, for one, want to read it again before seeing the film.

Here is the trailer for The Voyage of The Dawn Treader to whet your appetite. (So to speak.)

Participants:

1. Bellezza
2. Frances
3. Sara
4. Read The Book
5. Shelley
6. Linda

Monday Mailbox

Into my mailbox this week came a wide variety of genres; from short story to novel, from thriller to meditation, from Japan to Russia, all of them are exciting to me.

First, there is The Law of Attraction by Allison Leotta, an unsolicited copy which arrived from Simon and Schuster. It is being released this October. Love novels of crime and suspense, and this is a new author to me. Have you read anything by her?

Then, I have Alphabet Meditations for Teachers by Nancy Oelklaus which I will review for Eco-Libris Green Day campaign on November 10. What teacher couldn't use a few meditations from time to time?!

Next is The Oxford Book of Japanese Short Stories by Theodore W. Goossen which I heard about from Tony. It is an authoritative collection of the very best Japanese authors. Not normally a huge fan of short stories, I'm still looking forward to reading this and becoming more familiar with each author's style.

The work I'm most greatly anticipating opening, however, is the newly released Dr. Zhivago which I won from Frances. I loved the Peavear  and Volokhonsky translation of War and Peace which my son gave me for Christmas several years ago; how much I look forward to reading this translation of Dr. Zhivago for Frances' read along this November.

Do any of these particularly catch your eye?

This week's Monday Mailbox is hosted by she reads and reads. 

24 Hour Read-A-Thon Update #2

Number of books read: 0

Number of Christian rock concerts attended? 1

Number of consecutive hours spent reading since I got up? 2

Time to get busy with my books...don't you wish you were the statistics keeper of my day? ;)

Read-A-Thon Update #1

Every year I promise myself that I will do nothing, nothing but read, on the day the 24-hour Read-a-thon arrives.

And, every year, invariably something comes up. Or, something goes wrong. Last year, I accidently cheered for the cheerleaders on my team.

Not to mention the fact that we entertained my mother-in-law, and sisters-in-law, for the entire Saturday afternoon.

"This year," I said to myself, "I'm keeping the day free."

I have a haircut at 10:30 a.m.

I have a Mercy Me concert at 8:00 p.m.

But, between those hours? I'll be reading, you can count on that. My plans include to finish Dewey's Nine Lives which will be released on October 12, and to finish Madame Bovary for Frances' October read-along.

I also hope to sneak in a bit of Japanese literature, perhaps a few short stories from the Oxford Collection which arrived this week from amazon.com

I wish us all luck.

There Are Still Openings For Books To Review...Is One For You?

Eco-libris is looking for more bloggers to spread the word about eco-friendly books.

Their goal? "To use the power of the internet and social media to promote "green" books and increase the awareness of both readers and publishers to the way books can be printed in an eco-friendly manner."

Many books are waiting for a blogger to review; the review due date isn't until November 10, 2010.

Interested? Visit here to join the campaign.

Wordless Wednesday...Left On My Patio Today

"I wanted you to see this wonder!

I love the gossamer suspension around each seed...

how great is our God."

Love, Mother

(find other Wordless Wednesday posts here)

Departures

When my husband and I went to Blockbuster to rent The Talented Mr. Ripley (I had to see it after all the comments you left on my review of the novel!), this film caught my eye.

First, that it was Japanese.

Secondly, that it won the Academy Award for the Best Foreign Language Film.

It is easily the best film I've seen all year. On a theme that's dear to my heart, departing, we have a thousand variations: departing when a father abandons his wife and son, departing when one moves from one's dream job to any job one can find, departing when we leave this earth.

When his orchestra disbands, Daigo Kobayashi (Masahiro Motoki) decides to start over and moves back to his small hometown. Desperate for work, he secretly takes a job as a "Nokanshi," a funeral professional who prepares the deceased for burial and entrance into the next life. But while working with the families of the departed, Daigo embarks on a spiritual journey of his own as he finally experiences the joy and wonder of living. (back cover)

I cannot begin to tell you how lovely and powerful this film is. I recommend it with all my heart.

Hiroshima In The Morning

The more I read in this novel the more I saw how interconnected we are; America, Japan, Afghanistan all become similar in the face of war. In the tragedy and destruction and reaction it brings. Author Rahna Reiko Rizzuto interviews a woman in Japan, asking her if she's thought about war.

Yesterday, the woman begins, they went to Iwakuni and saw the place where the kamikazes took off during the war. Sixteen-year-old boys who wanted to give their lives to protect their mothers. So she has been thinking a lot about war. These boys are just like the ones in Afghanistan: indoctrinated. They are going to give their lives. (p. 184)

But, I am ahead of myself. How did this book begin? When the author saw an advertisement in a magazine-"a fellowship, a six month stipend"-she applies for it without really considering that she will win. When she does, she leaves her husband and children in New York, to research Hiroshima in Japan. What does she hope to accomplish?

I want to know what war is. What happens? Not who fights, or who dies, or how does the amputated family rise from the ashes, but: What is the subtle effect of fear, uncertainty, aggression, starvation? How do the things we can see and name, even when we think we've survived them, change the people who we are? (p. 77)

In the course of her search, interspersed with her interviews with the hibakusha and observations of life post-atomic bomb, she relates the relationship she has with her husband. What was once a tenuous embarkment on a writing journey becomes a troubled issue between them, especially when America is attacked on 9/11. How can she stay in Japan, away from her family?

How can she leave her research, her life, her very self behind?

Hiroshima In The Morning is a fascinating book, about far more than Hiroshima. It is about wives and husbands, children and mothers, peace and power, and surviving with fear and destruction never quite enough far away.

In Hiroshima, there were thousands of people who were trapped in the rubble as the fires approached after the bomb itself had fallen; in New York, there were thousands of people who were hijacked in the air, or trapped in elevators or in their offices, with the full knowledge that there was no escape, that they were dying, that there was not enough time. And there were those of us who couldn't get through, who didn't know what was going on. Those who will retrace the steps that left us alive, that led our loved ones to the wrong place and the wrong time, who will finger our scars, the smooth skin where our ear used to be, and wonder if we should feel blessed or guilty. (p. 157)