Re-Surgence

One week ago, President Obama addressed the nation from West Point, telling us that he was going to send 30,000 more troops to Afghanistan, continuing America's longest war. While I want us to succeed, I can't quite see how it can be possible, not when we're more committed than the population that we are supposedly helping. The people of Afghanistan are not the French resistance. They aren't the Hungarians or the Czechs, who battled in the streets against the Soviet crackdowns in 1956 and 1968 respectively.

Afghanistan is a nation of tribal people beaten down by decades of war, ruled by corrupt warlords. After the Soviets withdrew and we stopped caring, Afghanistan devolved into a bloody civil war that was eventually stabilized by those crazy guys known as the Taliban, a sect who follow a radical interpretation of the Koran, one that outlaws music, dancing, sports, women as human beings. And while many in Afghanistan aren't wild about these guys, they are afraid to stand up for themselves. We can't protect them 24/7 and we will leave. And the radicals will keep coming back. Joe Afghan knows this. Yet how many Americans truly do? To understand what we did before and how we did it, look to Steve Coll's Pulitzer Prize-winning history of the CIA's involvement in the Afghan's struggle against the Soviets, Ghost Wars, as well as George Crile's funny and infuriating and astonishing Charlie Wilson's War.

To get a sense of the personality (and futility) of this poor nation and its people, read Rory Stewart's account of his trek across the country The Places In Between, or Asne Seierstad's The Bookseller of Kabul, Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea, and former NPR reporter Sarah Chayse's brilliant look at Afghanistan after the 2002 invasion, The Punishment of Virtue. And there is a sobering history of the Soviets's failed invasion in Harper's own The Great Gamble by Gregory Feifer and the brilliant and depressing Descent into Chaos and Taliban by Pakistani correspondent Ahmed Rashid.

I'm not going to get into whether Obama's surge is right or wrong. I hate the Taliban and want to see them gone. These are the same people who ban Bach and the Beatles, make educating women illegal, behead and stone people to death, and blow up centuries' old works of magnificent beauty, because the are "offensive." They harbor Al Qaeda, who are a threat to us. And they have close pals in the Paki intelligence service (ISI) who theoretically have access to the Bomb. (Looking for a horror story? Read Who Killed Daniel Pearl? by Bernard-Henri Levy; it will make you think twice whenever you hear the words "America's ally" and "Pakistan" in the same sentence.)

But how long do we keep pouring soldiers and money into this pit? How do we measure success? How can we work with a nation with a culture rife with corruption, led by a president who stole an election while the world watched and whose brother is a drug lord? There is much we don't know about this country, even those who have been on the ground admit as much, demonstrated by what General McChrystal told Congress this week.

And how much money are we pouring into the coffers of private contractors (MERCENARIES!) like Xe (the former Blackwater)? Meanwhile the Republicans whine about the deficit, accuse the president of dithering (Oh, Dick Cheney, go away, please), and the nation is told we can't afford national healthcare and oh my! the sky is falling! social security. And don't forget Iraq.

All or any of the books above can put the situation into perspective, and while they may not offer direct answers, provide necessary insight. But what is it like for the soldiers (and their families) who are putting their lives on the line for America? Stay tuned.

The School of Life

Weekends in my household mean movies. Today, my husband and I finally got around to seeing the acclaimed An Education. Under ordinary circumstances this kind of film would have been a no brainer, but being the stepparent of a 16-year old, the thought of a movie about a teenage girl being seduced by an older man, well the creep factor was a little too high. But, 'tis Oscar Season, and with the buzz already begun about both Carey Mulligan and Peter Sarsgaard, we bit the bullet and headed out to see it, minus the child. (Though, frankly, this is a movie she should see.)

Setting aside the looks of horror we shared as events unfolded, the movie was, indeed, quite good. Peter Sarsgaard plays sympathetic creepy quite well, and Carey Mulligan's balance between innocence and sophistication is a marvel. I was most impressed with the script by Nick Hornby, which he adapted from a chapter in a Brit journalist's memoir. A master geographer of male cluelessness and vulnerability, he brilliantly captures the longing, hubris, and naivety of a bright, ambitious adolescent girl with the insight of well, a woman. Impressive.

And speaking of memoirs, one of the best I have read this year is Lit, Mary Karr's third volume of her life published by Harper. Funny and painful and enlightening, it is her reckoning of how she got drunk, got sober, had a son, built a career, lost a husband, found God, and made peace with the craziness in her life. A deft mix of lyricism, wit, and the profound, Lit deserves the kudos it has gotten from reviewers, including its selection as one of the 10 NYTBR Editors' Choice books. Though for this discerning reader, the highest gratification was its being chosen by Michiko Kakutani as one of her 10 Best Books of the Year.

The book's title is spot-on: Lit=drunk; Lit=secular illumination aka literature/poetry; Lit=spiritual illumination aka finding God. I am envious of Karr's skill as a writer, and wondered at the sweat, frustration, and sheer gumption it took not only to put the story together, but to tell it with such incredible skill. She is a writer to admire. The book reminded me of Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott's recollections of her journey to faith. While both women are deeply spiritual, neither are preachy nor righteous. (And both have very different writing styles; I admire them both!) As a Catholic, I can appreciate what has drawn Karr to Catholicism (and what draws Lamott to evangelical Christianity). Both focus on the best aspects of religion, and how it can transform life for the better, offering deeper meaning and connection. They are essential complements to Karen Armstrong's The Case for God, which I haven't read—yet—but is on the never-ending list.

Another terrific memoir I had the pleasure to read recently was Craig M. Mullaney's The Unforgiving Minute: A Soldier's Education. More to come on this, Obama, Afghanistan, Iraq, and the sorrowful cycle of war.

Prisoners

On Monday's Daily Show, John Stewart interviewed Newsweek's Maziar Bahari, who was detained by Iranian officials in the aftermath of that nation's recent elections. For 118 days he was held in Iran's notorious Evin Prison. Part of the "evidence" used against him was his "interview" with Daily Show "correspondent" Jason Jones. In his talk with Stewart, Bahari mentioned that the Iranian government has no sense of humor. If that weren't so sad it would be very, very funny. (And I thought my mother had no sense of humor.) Bahari also had some interesting comments about his interrogator's take on New Jersey, that crucible of evil. (Well, they did vote in another Republican governor sure to cut their taxes and put them in an even deeper fiscal hole sure to be kicked down to the road for a future Dem to handle. But I digress.)

Sadly, Bahari is but one of many journalists, scholars, students, and ordinary bystanders locked up by the ultra-paranoid Iranian government.

In September 2009, Ecco released My Prison, My Home, Haleh Esfandiari's memoir of her captivity by the Mahmoud Ahmadinejad regime. An Iranian-born scholar and the founding director of the Woodrow Wilson Center's Middle East Program, she was accused of being a spy, and after weeks of harassment, was thrown into Evin Prison. Though it took a while, reviewers have praised the book and its insights. Unfortunately, Bahari and Esfandiari are just two of the many innocent victims, both Iranian and Western, who have found themselves pawns in a dangerous international game. There is also Roxana Saberi, the young correspondent for NPR and the BBC who suffered a similar fate. Harper will publish her memoir in April 2010, a book which offers a similar yet fresh perspective on this intriguing country, its politics, culture, and people.

Though their stories may have similar elements, all are worth reading and exploring. Tensions between Iran and the U.S. remain high; the more we can discover and learn about this country, the more we can place the reports we read and hear into broader context. While there are many good journalists out there, there is often much to be desired from the village (mainstream media) which presents stories with little background and few connections to wider issues—not to mention a lack of historical background. There are many illuminating books worth reading available, from an analysis by former CIA operative (and New York Times bestselling author) Bob Baer to Reading Lolita in Tehran to Mark Bowden's Guests of the Ayatollah, a recounting of the Iranian hostage crisis (which took place on my birthday, 11/4/79). His engaging history is coming to the screen via HBO.

Here's looking at you, Great Satan.

This morning on NPR, William Morrow author Neil Gaiman presented a captivating piece on audiobooks in which he offered his own reflections on the medium and included those of David Sedaris (one of the great oral storytellers) and Martin Jarvis, an actor who reads many audiobooks.

I've been in book publishing long enough to remember when audiobooks became an integral part of the publishing program, the forerunner, so to speak, of the ebook. While the number of physical products is dwindling, there are still a wide number of titles available in digital format—just peruse the audiobooks tab in the iTunes store. Even Stephen King's 1,110 page monster, Under the Dome is available—and unabridged! Audiobooks have been favored by commuters, but as the responses to the story on the NPR website reveal, listeners use them while doing a variety of activities. I still prefer reading to listening, believing (unscientifically of course) that I retain more through the act. But then again . . . I have often been entranced listening to NPR's Selected Shorts. Not only are the stories wonderful, but so are the readers. A great reader can make a great story sublime and a mediocre story entertaining. It's all in the telling.

Audiobooks tap into the great oral traditions of preliterate societies, when traveling bards would stop from place to place to share the stories that would then be remembered and passed on. Neil Gaiman recalls how oral storytelling was an essential part of his growing up. Some of my own fondest (and earliest) memories are of my mother, her lips pressed to my ear, sending me to sleep with Hickory Dickory Dock, Jack and Jill, Humpty Dumpty, and other nursery rhymes that have been shared across decades and generations. Maybe that's where I first developed a love of words and language. I had a friend in a former writing group who admitted she had a hard time listening to stories; she couldn't retain what was being said. Hearing this confession was sad. I advised her to keep practicing, keep listening, keep trying.

Hopefully, parents out there are telling stories to their children as well as reading to them. Not only are they passing on the gift of language, they are helping their children become good listeners—a quality seemingly in short supply these days.

The Best Of has begun

It's that time of year again, when publications, booksellers, and the rest of us start pulling together our best of lists. Amazon and Publishers Weekly have both announced their hundred best, including editors' picks for the top 10. I've read some, own some but haven't gotten to, and have some on my list to buy/read:

Amazon

Let the Great World Spin/Colum McCann

Strength in What Remains/Tracy Kidder

This is on my iPhone waiting to be read

Wolf Hall/Hilary Manel

Brooklyn/Colm Toibin

Beautiful Creatures/Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl

Crazy for the Storm/Norman Ollestad

Terrific read; I didn't know what to expect when I picked up the manuscript to work on this Ecco book, but found I couldn't wait to get back on the subway so I could pick it back up again. Harrowing and life affirming.

The Girl Who Played with Fire/Steig Larsson

I look forward to the final volume the way I look forward to the last season of Lost; I can't wait but am sad it will be the end.

The City & The City/China Mieville

Why oh why? I tried. I wanted to love it, I really did. I read half and had to throw the towel in.

Stitches/David Small

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind/William Kamkwamba

Another lovely book, an inspiration and a testament to what is commonly referred to as "can-do" spirit. If only there were more of us like William, the world would be a better place.

PW:

Cheever: A Life/Blake Bailey

Await Your Reply/Dan Chaon

A Fiery Peace in a Cold War/Neil Sheehan

In Other Rooms, Other Wonders/Daniyal Mueenuddin

On my nightside table, waiting to be read

Big Machine/Victor LaValle

Stitches/David Small

Shop Class as Soulcraft/Matthew B. Crawford

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varnasi/Geoff Dyer

Lost City of Z/David Grann

While I thoroughly enjoyed this romp through the jungle with a few crazy men (including the author), I didn't love love love it, but my husband did. One of the best of the year? Absolutely. One of the 10 best? Not so much.

On another note, I was pleased to see that PW chose several of Harper's books as best in Fiction, including Anna Menendez's The Last War. More on that next . . .

Books, Politics, and an Education on the Road

What an insane few weeks it's been. When you're a one (wo)man band, it's tough getting as much work done as possible to take a few weeks of vacation. Including work that will be due during said hiatus. But now I'm back and writing from the road . . .

Living in the media capital of the world, working in book publishing, and being ever curious, I am always astounded when faced with the ignorance of my fellow citizens—ignorance as in lack of knowledge. I was saddened and angered yet again just yesterday morning, my first full day (ever) in the Southwest. A helpful, courteous, quite lovely employee at the hotel in northern Phoenix at which we were staying began talking to my husband and me. She spoke wistfully about traveling, about leaving America. Her reason for getting away from the USA? President Obama. She didn't care where she went. England, Germany, France, would be fine with her, she would be happy to leave given the "direction" the country was going under the Obama Administration.

Flabbergasted, I told her that if she didn't like Obama, she'd hate Europe; those counties have "socialized" medicine, among many other things, and they love it. Demand it, in fact. The hotel employee seemed startled to hear this. The discussion then moved on to health care. I'm very fortunate, I work for a company that offers both medical and dental plans. Unfortunately, our new acquaintance had tales of woe, including being told to leave a doctor's office (more than once) because she didn't have insurance. This poor woman was also missing several teeth, most likely I'm guessing for lack of dental coverage.

So what does all this have to do with books? Lots. It breaks my heart how little people know besides what they hear from certain media outlets and from like-minded friends spreading ridiculous rumors. Like "Obama is taking over the Internet and you can't get your email." Yes, she told us this as well. When people are afraid and want to believe the worst, they will. Like those senior citizens at town hall meetings who refused to believe that medicare is a government program. How did we transform from a country of citizens who made their way into fearsome, unknown territory into a nation of scaredypants so afraid of germs they demand antibacterial wipes to swab grocery cart handles?

But I digress. Knowledge, books, are the weapon to conquer ignorance. Unfortunately, too few "ordinary" people read, and I really don't have any answers for how to get them interested. I wish I did. Despite the indignities this woman has suffered, she still sides with those who do not have her best interests at heart, though they sure make it sound like they do.

If self interest won't motivate people to educate themselves, what will?

Happier posts ahead, I swear, including commentary on South of Broad, That Old Cape Magic, and the new Lorrie Moore, which I'm reading on my iPhone (my absolute preferred way of reading electronically!) and enjoying immensely.

Lies My Mother Never Told Me

For those of us who love books and fancy ourselves writers, the romantic lives of legendary authors—think Hemingway in Spain or Fitzgerald in Hollywood, even Thomas and Mailer at the White Horse Tavern—offer a glimpse of the exotic that leaves us a little green, much like Frank and April Wheeler, the doomed husband and wife of the brilliant Revolutionary Road. To live a life of books and ideas, to debate, argue, and meditate with like-minded souls across a table littered with dirtied plates and bottles of wine. . . . A literati dream.

But what if that dream came with a dark lining—unchecked emotional outbursts, severe headaches, liver damage, blackouts?

In her engaging memoir, Kaylie Jones speaks directly to this question. The daughter of James Jones, one of the most acclaimed American writers of the mid-twentieth century, Kaylie grew up surrounded by the royalty of belles lettres. Private schools, exotic vacations, a comfortable, book-lined home in Paris were all hers—and more. Hers was a lifetime saturated by literature—and booze. Alcohol would impact her father’s health and help him to an early grave. It would also mark her relationship with her mother—one of the few bonds they shared until Kaylie went dry. (And like her mother a wonderful raconteur, Kaylie knows how to tell a good story.)

Refreshingly matter-of-fact, free from any sense of entitlement, and grounded by humor and intelligence, Lies My Mother Never Told Me tells of the events of Kaylie's life from childhood to today. Hers is a memoir of family and literature, of the people, events, and books that shaped her. While she writes of celebrities, the luminaries who grace her pages come off as flesh-and-blood people—flawed, charming, despicable, and generous human beings who walk the earth among the rest of us. Losing her father at sixteen, Kaylie recalls how she turned to books—especially his works—to find him. Though it took years and a number of painful steps, she eventually moved out of the shadow of her family's fame and claimed a rightful place of her own as a woman, a wife, a mother, and a writer.

I had been looking forward to reading this manuscript when it was first presented at the Fall 2009 launch, and when I finally picked it up to work on it, I was mesmerized. I inhaled this book and couldn't stop talking or thinking about it. Kaylie's is a singular, fascinating life. But the strength of her story is its universality. Her experiences are completely relatable to someone like me who grew up in a far different reality.

Anyone who loves books, literature, and the (notion of) the writing life, will find much to enjoy and ponder in this terrific new memoir. As will those who have grown up with, lived with, or been an alcoholic or addict of any kind. And did I say it's got funny stories too? My fingers are crossed that it will be a sleeper hit, attaining the success it so rightly deserves.