The One Thing I Didn't Like

*Don't read this til you've finished the book!

Ok, I'm not saying this to go straight to the flaws... although it looks that way. I'm just going to say that Viviana's story was a little off. Bipolar? Come on. I wonder if the author knows anything about being bipolar. Bipolar symptoms don't just pop up all of a sudden out of nowhere. There's usually gradual signs of it. And her manic state lasted for months which is very unrealistic. They usually last only a couple of days. I don't know. I just think that if the author wanted to use this as the excuse for Viviana leaving, she should have done more research.

I'm not going to say anything else just in case Rachel decides to peek. Well, except that I really really loved this book and it's going amongst my favorites. Great choice Heidi!

Mr. Perfect

Thoughts brought on after reading up through Chapter 7:

I'm starting to get a little skeptical of Mr. Martin Grace. I know this sounds weird but he's too perfect. He's the epitome of what every woman dreams of, but somehow it doesn't sound so good now. If there's one thing I've learned in life it's that you have to watch out for the people who seem to be flawless. They're usually the most dangerous.

I guess my point is, if Martin really is that perfect, would you want to have the neverending stress hanging over your head that you have to keep up with this constant exchange of witty comments, designer apartments and romantic gestures? Sounds exhausting to me.*

Also, my special imaginary place is now going to be a cheese store. I love Cornelia.


*This is not in any way a statement devaluing the importance or wonderfulness of flirty banter and flowers. I just prefer mine to be more evenly distributed so as to appreciate the uniqueness of each romantic gesture. Too much of a good thing is just too much.

GOATS!

This has nothing to do with Marisa de los Santos, but I have to butt into the middle of our current book to make a VERY IMPORTANT book suggestion:

Goat Song: A Seasonal Life, A Short History of Herding, and the Art of Making Cheese
by Brad Kessler

I heard about it here:
http://www.onpointradio.org/2009/08/close-to-goats

I Want a Maid Like That

*Chapter 4 References

First, I love the name Clare. Second, I want a black t-shirt that says "Hausfrau" in hot pink letters. Max sounds like the coolest maid ever.

Also, just so you know, my brain is hard wired to accept stereotypes as fact. When the maid was first mentioned I pictured her as a short, somewhat pudgy Hispanic woman. It wasn't until I read the description of her that I stopped and thought, "Did it say the maid was Hispanic or am I one of those jerks who puts labels on people?" Turns out I'm one of those jerks. I was actually embarrassed at myself for immediately having that picture in my head when only a "maid" was mentioned. Sigh.

One more random thing... has anyone else noticed that Clare is pretty much the same age as the girls in the last book? She has such a different, more grown-up feel to her, even though she'd technically be a year or two younger than those other girls. Granted these stories aren't real, but I think it is an example of how our environment can dramatically affect our development.

I did it! I posted a post!

And it wasn't even hard! I thought it would be!

Look, I'm doing it again!

I'm in love! (Deja vu all over again...)

By page six, I knew this was it... true love. I love that the main character (or, co-main character?) Cornelia loves babies. I also love that she isn't ready to have one of her own because of her conviction that, "before a person dropped a new life into this world, she should probably get a real one herself." That made me smile. (I love to smile!)

I love that she loves vocal jazz (partially 'cuz I grew up listening to Sarah and Ella... we knew those Esteemed Ladies by their first names, in our house). I love that she loves old movies. And that we're instructed to stop reading the text in order to immediately begin viewing The Philadelphia Story. (Hepburn was also a major fixture of my childhood... but, even if a person doesn't actually love old movies--isn't it hard not to love the IDEA of old movies?)
And I love that Cornelia has a "half-assed" job but wants a "full-fledged" one. (I'd be content with a three-quarters-assed job, myself.)

Perhaps most of all, I love that this story made me truly see and smell and smile at this world. I loved experiencing all that so much, that it reminded me of why I read! To re-fall in love with this world, our world of enchanting particulars--the light in the cafe, the dimple on the chin. The baby that smells like newly baked bread (that bit reminded me of your writing, Rachel). It just makes me ecstatic to become immersed in a new book that seems promising. New, enchanting particulars, and new people to fall in love with and try to understand, from the inside out.

Sometimes I wonder if, in real life, when I really like someone, it's partly/mainly/totally because they so remind me of someone I've read about in a book.

I confess--as a lover, (of books, people), I'm not discriminating. I could never be a critic, because critiquing a text I love (as opposed to one that sadly disappoints, like, the Popularity book) feels so heartless to me. I say that because, I even love that she starts out the story with a cliche--falling in love with a tall, mature stranger. I know it's corny, but I just love love. I don't even want to judge anything about this story. I've read better, I've read worse--so what? I just want to embrace.

I'm expressing myself exuberantly--I'm an exuberant person, a lot of the time--but I'm not trying to say this is like, my favorite book of all time. This ecstatic infatuated feeling is often how I feel when I read. It's why I'm such a book addict! And, today, while reading, I just kept feeling vaguely vulnerable--because of being in this B.A. Book Club we're doing, and knowing you guys were going to be reading about Cornelia, too--I felt like I was in the process of taking my new girlfriend home to meet my family. And hoping they liked her. (Even though--I'm not gay, so, I don't know what taking a new girlfriend home to meet the folks is actually like--and, it would be maximally draining on any family to actually introduce them to all my loves... Even I can't keep up with them. I'm always forgetting the plots and assorted central details of books I've read... Once, I brought home from the library a sci fi book I was uber excited to read. And Paul told me, when I told him how much I was looking forward to starting it, that I'd already read it. Twice. And that we owned it. I think my brain and heart just can't keep track of all my romances. And, being so forgetful has marvelous side effects--I can read a book for the second time, knowing for sure that I'll enjoy it magnificently, but still be surprised! I recently re-read a murder mystery and even forgot, until three quarters of the way through, Who Dunnit!)

I'm babbling, now, not only because I'm interested in my own opinions, but because I'm a wee bit nervous. I've never shared a new love with anyone but Paul, in a long, long time. (I don't mean that quite the way it sounded.)

By the way... I also love that Cornelia tells of a man entering a room wearing "what could only be described as a blouse." I like reading mildly clever things that I didn't have to think up myself. I like feeling like I'm interacting with people without having to actually wash my hair and leave the house. I think I'm a glutton for experience. I want to consume experiences--mine, other people's, as many as possible--because life is so short, and, it takes forever to wash and dry my hair. And being around actual people means feeling put on the spot so much of the time--I seem to say vaguely stupid-sounding things much more often than I mean to. And, I've noticed, somehow, the moments of feeling judged leave a deeper mark than the ordinary, nice moments. Feeling understood--that someone truly "gets me"--is so fleeting, and so hard to find. Whereas, feeling dumb seems to hide in wait for me around every corner. But books never make me feel stupid, or, that I need to expend a lot of energy fixing a mistake I made. I love the safe-ness of books. I like being able to relate to another person, be expanded by their outlook, enjoy their sense of humor--without all the mess of having to show up, and expose myself to judgment. (My therapist says I've got approval issues. :D)

If I could only be introduced--and introduce myself--to others through something akin to a novel's worth of description and explanation! Sort of like, meeting Seth and Abe through your guys' blogs. I could never not see them in a kind light, after glancing them through the eyes of those who love them most.

I love life, but, I almost feel like I love books more. My life engrosses me--but, it seems to revolve around the same unresolved issues, year after year (like the approval thing). Slowly spiraling towards resolution... but, taking its own sweet time. I'd never continue reading a book that was as repetitive as my actual life. And yet... well, somehow, I can't imagine ever wanting to put my own text down.

Lastly... irrelevantly... I love that, when creating a post, we can add whatever labels we like. One of the examples for possible labels, I saw, was "scooters." That's so perfect I think I'll have to use it.

To love! To life! To one arena where, hopefully, judgement doesn't lie in wait. To the end of judgement! To scooters!

Love Walked In

I'm sure you all know that our new book is Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos. On your mark, get set.... GO!*

*Just kidding. This is NOT a race. Because I would definitely lose. Otherwise it would be fine.

Last Thoughts

Did anybody else try to determine the outcome of this book as they were reading it? For instance, I thought there might be a crazy twist where they'd find out that Chris Goddard did in fact have inappropriate relations with Faith and she was telling the truth all along. Or Lydia would end up jumping Chris' bones in his office. Anybody?

Any other last thoughts on this book before we move on?

Sameness

As soon as Erin's little classmates saw that the "hip" girls were wearing drawstring skirts, they all decided that they needed to have one of their own.

This (adolescent?) desire to be like everyone else....where does it come from?

Since I've been reading a lot of pro-homeschooling material lately, I'm prone to say that it's the fault of school structuring. This is my thinking:

From the very beginning of elementary school, kids are taught that conformity pays. A teacher faces a classroom full of small children. Her sanity hinges on maintaining order and control. Kids who are not interested in the curriculum or its pace or style often violate the classroom rules. Kids who violate the classroom rules are singled out and punished. (Though if everyone is being naughty at once, there is less likelihood for punishment.) At any rate, everyone quickly learns to do what everyone else is doing-- or there will be trouble. Kids pick up on this attitude-- different is wrong! And start picking on kids who are different from them. This peaks during adolescence, a time when kids are forming a sense of identity and are therefore more likely to criticize those around them (a means through which we develop a sense of self.)

Or maybe it's because of the unnatural social environment of schools: being around a whole slew of people the same age as you has a tendency to invite comparison; so much comparison might invite a sense of insecurity about one's own uniqueness. Imagine spending time in a more heterogeneous age grouping-- among people of all ages, you don't expect to be the same, and you're perhaps freer to be yourself.

What do you-all think?

WHA?!

Ok I've had a lot of extra time on my hands the last couple of days (in case you haven't noticed) so I've been plowing through this book pretty fast (well, for me anyway). I can't remember what chapter it was, but you'll know what I'm talking about when you get there. The chapter where Lydia goes on a little trip to Houston. That's all I'm gonna say. Other than, whoa... where the hell did THAT come from? Not that I'm offended or anything, it just seemed to come out of nowhere. So far this had been a book that seemed like it could go on a teenage girl reading list. No more. Why do you think this was thrown in? Do you think the author got bored? Maybe she wanted to make sure everyone was still awake? Like I said, I don't necessarily mind that sort of thing in books... I'm not one of those people that shuns swears, sex and violence, but somehow this time it just felt like it came out of left field. Like it was an afterthought. Made me think the author was trying too hard. Am I way off on this?

A Bunch of Drama Queens

Maybe it's because I don't have any kids. But, I just don't get these women. Is this how all moms are? Or is it just these rich women in their high-class society? They seem like a bunch of overreacting whiners. I understand that kids have problems, but is it really necessary to intervene with every little issue? I mean, kids are going to have some less than favorable circumstances in their lives. They're going to feel bad at one point or another. I don't think it's healthy for these mothers to be butting in all the time. I can't remember my mom ever stepping in to solve any of my issues. In fact I'd say that 90% of the time she didn't know I had issues (or at least she pretended not to know). The girls in this book are teenagers. They're old enough to solve their own problems and stand up for themselves. Whether they choose to or not is their own decision. I think if Erin wants to play the martyr and sulk in her room all day instead of acting like an adult and actually talking to her friends, then it's her fault if she gets excluded. I wouldn't want to hang out with her either! Who wants to be around someone who is always feeling sorry for themselves? I've seen this happen a lot. Especially when I was a kid.

I was one of those kids who didn't have a ton of friends, but it was because I chose not to hang out with a bunch of people. I had my one or two close friends I would hang out with and that was fine with me. I knew that if I ever wanted to expand my group, I'd have to be more outgoing and actually go out and talk to the other kids and try to make friends. It's not that hard. I'm still that way. Friendship takes work. You can't just sit at home and hope someone knocks on your door wanting to be your best friend. It takes some effort on your part.

So I guess my whole point of this is these women need to stop being so controlling and just let their kids hash out their own problems. I can see stepping in if there is a serious issue, but your daughter not getting invited to a sleepover is not a serious issue. Am I being too harsh? What are your thoughts on this?

Is it just me?

For some reason my brain has decided that Chris Goddard has a British accent.

Also, I think he's a hottie.

That is all.

OK, OK, I'll go first.

Some thoughts about suffering.

I first started thinking about the concept of suffering within the context of A Most Uncommon Degree ofPopularity (hereafter to be denoted as AMUDOP) when Lydia, in describing her neighborhood, launched into a lengthy complaint about the number of embassies in her neighborhood, and how their gatherings often caused traffic problems. And my first thought was: You poor thing. You sometimes get stopped by valets and orange safety cones while driving your nice SUV through an affluent neighborhood in a peaceful nation to get to your expensive home where your two healthy children left their name-brand cleats? Oh, the agony!

So I was thinking about that when she, later in the book, very kindly supplied a name for me to describe this type of pain: "white suffering."

Which made me think about what suffering is, and about degrees or levels of suffering, and the validity of these different types of suffering.

And as I sit to write this, I find myself thinking about several different scenarios that might contain what some people could term "suffering," and realizing just how complex this subject is and how impossible it will be to even touch in a hasty blog post.

For example, I sometimes feel like I'm "suffering" because I don't get as much sleep as I want and because my kids are tiresome and we hardly ever have a hot dinner and I don't get enough time to pursue my own interests. But then I consider the woman I read about recently whose husband died while she was expecting her 6th child-- she had to work full time, deal with a newborn, and care for her other children all alone. But after her I think about, say, an Afghani woman who is abused by her husband, oppressed by her government, and afraid that her children might be killed in the next bombing. But what about the woman in Africa who was raped repeatedly, has AIDS, and is unable to provide adequate food and water for her children?

I've realized that I think about this a lot in terms of altruism. When I'm looking for ways to make a positive impact on the world around me, I think: "Well, I suppose I could just find someone in the neighborhood who might be feeling lonely and pay them a visit." And then I think, "But, you know, even more important than that is the fact that there are homeless people in Idaho Falls. Maybe I should go help out at the soup kitchen." But that's followed by, "Well, really, there are people really suffering overseas. Maybe I should donate money to the Christian Children's Network." Which all begs the question: Are some times of suffering more important than others? Is hunger worse than loneliness? If I need to pick between (1) spending an extra couple of hours at work to earn money to send to Starving Children in Africa or (2) spending a couple hours visiting with a lonely neighbor, should I hands-down pick option 1?

I love/hate those stories that you hear in church about God alleviating "white suffering" ("I really needed to get to my kid's basketball game on time, because it meant a lot to her, but I couldn't find the keys to the car, so I stopped and said a prayer, and before I'd even said 'Amen', the doorbell rang. It was my neighbor, who said, 'I felt prompted to stop and ask if you needed a ride to the basketball game.'" ). I love them because these stories imply that God cares about us and our little desires, our little suffering. I hate them, though, because they make me wonder why God isn't doing more about the big suffering. I'm like, "Why didn't You prompt somebody to notice that little girl being chloroformed and stuffed in the back of a van hours before she was tortured to death?"

So anyway, to tie this all back in with the novel, I guess I would ask: Is Erin's adolescent suffering important, even in light of the fact that there are adolescents in much worse situations (abandoned by parents, orphaned, terminally ill, hungry, homeless, etc.) My instinct is to say: yes. But I'm not sure why.

Future Books

So I may be getting a little ahead of myself here, but I figure we have to have some sort of strategy for picking out our book club books. I believe we all have Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos so unless you think otherwise, I'm assuming that will be next.

Maybe we can use this post as a way to keep track of book suggestions. Just leave a comment every time you think of a book you'd like to read and then we can vote on something when we get ready for the next book. Unless you have a better suggestion... this is just the first that came to mind.

A Most Uncommon Degree of Popularity

This is the very first book the Birthday Awareness Book Club is going to read: A Most Uncommon Degree of Popularity by Kathleen Gilles Seidel. This was a book gifted to all the book club members by Heidi (thanks!).

Take your time... we're pretty lax around this place. Feel free to post any questions or comments you have as you read.

This book better be good Heidi, OR ELSE!!!