Boxers & Saints

Boxers & Saints by Gene Luen Yang (2013)

1989 saw the beginning of the Boxer Rebellion in China, an uprising against "foreign devils" who brought Christianity to China. Boxers is the story of Little Bao, who leaves home with a band of villagers trained in kung fu. They take on the forms of ancient gods when they fight, and this strength helps them fight the foreigners and the Chinese who have converted to Christianity. One such converted Christian is Vibiana, whose story is told through the accompanying volume, Saints. Known only as Four-Girl by her family, she becomes acquainted with Christians and is further encouraged by her visions of Joan of Arc, ultimately becoming just as enmeshed in the violent rebellion as Little Bao. These two graphic novels come together in a boxed set and though they are technically two separate books I'll consider them together.

Before I heard about these books, I hadn't even heard of the Boxer Rebellion. Reading Boxers first, I think I got the basic idea of what it was about. When I began reading the parts about the men turning into ancient gods, I ended up reading the Wikipedia entry about the Boxer Rebellion because I couldn't trust this book as fact. Turns out, the Boxers actually did believe that spirit possession helped them to fight better. I really enjoyed Little Bao's story and the vibrant art.

Saints was a little different. Vibiana was pretty unconvincing as a Christian so I didn't feel like she represented the Christian side of the story the way that Little Bao represented the Boxers. When she began hanging out with Christians, it was to get out of her house and because they gave her cookies. I never felt like she actually believed in the religion. But is that what the author is trying to say? That the Chinese people who adopted Christianity never embraced it fully? This volume was much shorter than the other and there was simply less story. It was disappointing after reading Boxers.

I looked forward to reading these as I enjoyed Yang's American Born Chinese so much, but only Boxers lived up to my expectations. Although collectively far from perfect, they tackle an interesting and overlooked historical topic and would be great for discussion.

Girls Standing on Lawns

Girls Standing on Lawns by Daniel Handler and Maira Kalman (2014)

In this most recent collaboration between Daniel Handler and Maira Kalman, they also partner with the Museum of Modern Art. Taking their inspiration from anonymous old photos of girls standing on lawns (as the title suggests), Kalman interprets some of them through vibrant illustrations - others appear in their original form - while Handler supplies pithy prose. There's not a story so much as a meandering path through the unknown lives of these lawn-standing girls.

This is more about style than substance, but I enjoyed this short diversion - and it is short, under 60 pages, with only a few words scattered here and there.

Though stylistically different from anything else he's written, Daniel Handler's voice was still recognizable even in these short snippets, which captured the sorts of things we think when looking at old photographs.

"We are all gone from here.
None of this is there,
not anymore.
And yet we are still standing."

As always, Maira Kalman's illustrations are vibrant, inviting, and quirky. If you're not familiar with her, I urge you to look at her beautiful photo essays here. They are visually delightful and, often, quietly patriotic.

Girls Standing on Lawns is essentially a picture book for adults, which, why isn't that a thing? Fortunately, this is first in a series from MoMA, Handler, and Kalman and I am looking forward to what lies ahead. I hope others take inspiration and make this a genre because I could certainly do with some more age-appropriate picture books in my life.

The Farm

The Farm by Tom Rob Smith (2014)

Daniel's parents have retired to a farm in Sweden, and he has yet to leave London to visit them but imagines them having a relaxed, idyllic life there. One day Daniel's father calls to tell him the sad news that his mother has been committed to a mental hospital. She has been having delusions of persecution and is accusing everyone around her of terrible things. Immediately, Daniel books a flight to Sweden, but before he can leave he receives a second call. It's his mother, telling him she's been released and is on her way to Heathrow, and that everything Daniel's father is saying is a lie. Caught between his parents, Daniel now must decide who to believe and what is the truth.

Most of this novel took place over just a few days, the bulk of it one long conversation between Daniel and his mother as she told the story of everything that happened in the several months since they bought their farm. She has a satchel of evidence, and pulls out each object one by one as she tells Daniel her story. Awkwardly, they are at Daniel's apartment where he lives with another man and he knows it's time to finally reveal this part of his life, but how can he in the midst of such a dramatic, urgent situation? Although Daniel's relationship isn't quite pertinent to the story, it adds an extra layer of tension.

The construction somehow made it easy to just keep going and going - one doesn't want to stop in the middle of a conversation - and I just couldn't put it down. I stayed up past midnight on a work night reading, and that is little short of miraculous because when I read in bed I usually fall asleep after about 5 pages. I also kept expecting things to become clear enough to decide whether or not I believed her story, but Smith didn't make it that easy for me, and that, too, propelled me along. Ultimately, I consumed this book in less than two days.

The descriptions I had read of The Farm were pretty vague, basically what I told you above, and I think it's best to keep it that way. It's all about experiencing the story as Daniel experiences it. I found it completely compelling and satisfying. It would be great for a book group - I'm dying to discuss it with somebody else who has read it!

Tom Rob Smith is an incredibly talented writer, and I've extolled his virtues previously as I read the Child 44 series. While this is a complete departure from that series in both style and content, it only illustrates the range of his talent. I'm eagerly awaiting what he has in store next.

Under the Banner of Heaven

Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer (2003)

One day in 1984 a young woman and her baby were murdered in their home. The two men responsible were her husband's brothers, Fundamentalist Mormons who claim they were directed by God to commit the murders. Jon Krakauer takes a close look at this family, and at the short, bloody history of the LDS church and its off-shoots of Mormon Fundamentalism.

Honestly, I don't even know where to start with this. There is so much information packed into this book and a lot of it is so fucked up that it kind of makes my head spin. Predictably, I've come out of this reading experience thinking that Mormon Fundamentalists are crazy. What I didn't expect was that I'd come to believe that even the mainstream LDS church is pretty misguided, if not also crazy. Reading about the origins of that religion, I can't imagine why anyone would choose to follow it. (Granted, I am an atheist and find all religion unbelievable, but this one seems especially far-fetched.)

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the LDS church, it was founded by a guy named Joseph Smith who was led to some special gold tablets by an angel named Moroni but then wasn't allowed to read what was on them so he put his face into a hat containing a magic rock and saw lots of visions which, clearly, were from these tablets and he wrote them down and that, my friends, is the Book of Mormon. Smith then went on to have many grand "revelations" including the one about plural marriage, which was a hard sell even in the 1830s. But he was quite intent on being able to have sex with any woman (or girl) he wanted, so he was determined to spread that part of God's plan especially.

There's a lot else that happened between then and the murders, but it's not hard to see how the Lafferty brothers found it so reasonable to believe that God ordered them to murder their brother's wife and child. Because, you know, God works in mysterious ways.

Here is a sampling of things I learned about fundamentalist Mormons that are horrifying:

• They believe that homosexuality and racial intermarriage are both punishable by death
• Welfare fraud is rampant and encouraged
• Many of these men rape girls as young as thirteen
• Some of them even impregnate their own daughters

Let's review:
Having sex with a consulting adult of your own gender is punishable by death.
Raping your own child is condoned by God.

In this context, the murders don't seem like such a huge anomaly. Ron Lafferty was the one held most culpable, receiving the death penalty, though his brother Dan was convicted also. Ron has appealed over and over again and although the murders occurred 30 years ago he is apparently still alive. What I found most interesting about his trial was the debate surrounding whether or not he was insane. Using the insanity defense would be like saying that anyone who prays to God for guidance is mentally ill, and nobody wanted to make that argument. Even the sort of revelations that Ron Lafferty received are an integral part of the mainstream LDS church.

There is always this idea that one's beliefs are the true beliefs and those who think differently are wrong and with religion that is an argument that will never be solved. Dan Lafferty is quoted in the book comparing their crime with those of the September 11th terrorists. He says, "I have to admit, the terrorists were following their prophet. They were willing to do essentially what I did. I see the parallel. But the difference between those guys and me is, they were following a false prophet, and I'm not." And that is one of the reasons why I feel that religion is inherently dangerous.

It bothered me a little that Krakauer relayed so many of the religious parts of the story as though they were fact. He would say that someone received a revelation, or that Joseph Smith was visited by an angel, as though it was a fact. It seemed obvious to me that these people were hearing and seeing exactly what they wanted. Of course Joseph Smith would be told he should have many wives, and of course Ron Lafferty would be told to kill someone he hated. Perhaps Krakauer just didn't think he needed to insert a note of skepticism as the stories speak for themselves. I suppose it's also a bit telling that the book ends with a former fundamentalist talking about how he is now an atheist.

On the whole, Krakauer's research and writing was pretty top-notch, as far as I can tell. Perhaps Mormons feel differently, but it felt quite thorough as I was reading it. I got a bit bogged down in the middle in a historical part, but have to admit it was all valuable information. Anyhow, it picked up again quite soon and I was engrossed once more until I finished. Included at the end are a bibliography and (so helpfully!) a glossary that I used several times.

So if you are interested at all in what makes people do crazy, violent things, or in religion, or in taking a close look at a specific culture, I would definitely recommend Under the Banner of Heaven.

Do you have suggestions of other books that take an interesting look at religion? Does Going Clear live up to all the hype? And if you've read Under the Banner of Heaven, what was your take?

We Were Liars

We Were Liars by E. Lockhart (2014), narrated by Ariadne Meyers

Cadence Sinclair Eastman has grown up in a wealthy family and spends her summers on their private island off the coast of Massachusetts. She is close to her cousins, Johnny and Mirren, and two summers ago was beginning a romance with Gat, the nephew of her aunt's boyfriend. But something happened that summer that Cady can't remember. There was an accident from which she still hasn't recovered, and this summer she returns to the island and through the haze of her migraines she tries to piece it together.

On the surface, Cady's life is pretty sweet. I mean, her family owns an entire island. Cady's mother and both of her aunts each have their own large house on the island, while her grandfather, the patriarch, rules over this domain from his own large house. They all come to the island every summer, their regular lives fading off into the background for those few, magical months.

But just like any family, they have their share of unhappinesses. Cady's father left them, an event she describes as him shooting her through the heart (and indeed, her narration is filled with bloody metaphors). And of course, this mysterious accident that nobody will talk about, but which seems to have changed her family somehow. Even her cousins and Gat aren't as bright and fun-loving this summer as they have been in the past.

Whenever I read fiction in which somebody has memory problems after a traumatic event, I wonder how realistic it is. I know that our minds do strange things, but I'm never sure if it's the kinds of things portrayed in fiction. Nevertheless, the mystery and Cady's determination to figure it out propelled me through the story.

Despite her head injury, Cady was a recognizable teenager. She was desperately in love with Gat and upset that he didn't contact her after her accident (never mind that she didn't try to contact him either.) She argued with her grandfather when she learned that the small animal statues in each of their houses were made from ivory, lecturing him about the evils of hunting elephants. She also remained so wrapped up in her own life that it was hard for her to see what was going on with everyone else.

I like the relationship between Cady and her grandpa. It wasn't a great relationship in many ways, but he still came across kind of positively. His problems with dementia mirrored her own memory problems and I found it quite sweet the day they took the boat to Edgartown for fudge though neither of them were supposed to be boating. It was like their own tiny little conspiracy.

This was probably the quickest I've ever raced through an audiobook, because I just had to find out what was going on. Then I just wanted to talk to everyone I knew who had read it - it's just that kind of book. It's very different than the one other book I've read by E. Lockhart, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks. This one is clearly more successful, but I think I prefer Frankie Landau-Banks, just out of my deep admiration of her character. Still, there is good reason this book is hot right now, so readers of YA fiction will not want to miss it.

Wildthorn

Wildthorn by Jane Eagland (2009)

Louisa Cosgrove wants more than anything to be a doctor. Her father always encouraged her in her studies, even while her mother tried to turn her into a proper Victorian young lady. But Louisa's father is dead now, and she is being sent away to stay with the Woodville's. When she steps out of the carriage, however, she finds herself at Wildthorn Hall, an insane asylum, and the staff all call her Lucy Childs. Who has played such an awful trick on her? And how will she ever get out of this place?

Everything in the description of this book sounded up my alley, but somehow when I began reading I initially felt like I had heard it all before. I've read a number of oppressed-Victorian-girl novels, including some wrongly-imprisoned-Victorian-girl variations and I love them, but will admit that for a while at the beginning of this book I thought "Oh, another one of those," and inwardly rolled my eyes a bit. But then I kept reading, and became ever more engrossed in this story, forgetting all about those other books entirely.

It begins with the ride to Wildthorn Hall, and continues with Louisa's time there, but interspersed with the present are chapters beginning early in her life and jumping ever closer to the present so we can see the chain of events that brought her here. Helpfully, the chapters in the past appear in a different font, a style which I suddenly wish every book written with this construction would use. In these chapters, we get snippets of Louisa's life as a child, but much more from the past year when events conspired to bring her to her unfortunate present.

It was easy to see from the start that Louisa's nonconformity would be a problem for her. As a child she was a tomboy, and in desperation her mother once invited over a family with a proper little girl in hopes they would become friends and, presumably, Louisa would learn from her. Instead, Louisa showed off her collection of specimens, which included a dead mouse, and then offered to test the other child's green stockings for arsenic. That was pretty much the end of the friendship, but it only made me like Louisa more.

When she finds herself at Wildthorn she initially assumes it was all a horrible mistake, but slowly grows to realize she was committed intentionally. At this point the story only gets more interesting, as Louisa shows just how strong and capable she really is.

Wildthorn is a very satisfying historical novel about a young woman who refuses to conform. Anyone who enjoys a strong female lead in their Victorian novels will find a lot to like here.

Belated Goodbye

Way back in April I posted about some technical issues I was having, and as an aside mentioned that my cat was nearing the end of his days. He died about a month later in early May at the age of 18 1/2. I considered posting something, because I've posted any time one of my other pets have died, but I didn't know what to say. I kept putting it off and it's just been feeling more and more awkward.

How can I summarize the 14 years that Clarence and I spent together? It's not even possible. My life has changed in so many ways over that time, and I've moved from job to job, apartment to apartment, and then finally to a house, and he was always there.

Meowing and shedding, shedding and meowing. Following me around, begging to be petted, pawing my face, chasing his tail, eating the plants, puking in the hallway in the wee hours of the morning.

It's been about a month and a half and I've mostly gotten used to him not being here, but every now and then I catch myself looking around for him.

Here's one of the earliest pictures I have of him. Goodbye, Clarence!