The Bauer Confidential

My wonderful book club ladies came to me this month, again (since the baby makes it a bit hard to travel into the city at this point) to discuss a very interesting work of non-fiction, Little Heathens: Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression by Mildred Armstrong Kalish.  As the title suggests, this book tells the tale of a family’s survival during the difficulties of the great depression, splitting their time between a farm and a small town in Iowa depending on the season.  Told from the perspective of the author as a very young girl, the trials of day to day life are chronicled.  Despite being set in a rather “depressing” time, the book is not the least bit depressing.  No one feels sorry for themselves despite the adversity and difficulties they deal with everyday.  The only time sadness is described is when family members loose their farm because they are unable to pay their taxes.

The most surprising thing was how much very young children contributed to the running of the household and farm.  A lot of what is described might be considered child abuse by today’s standards.  Everyone worked hard, it was absolutely necessary for things to get done and the family to survive.  And yet the children had time to play, using their imaginations to create adventures and games.  Education was highly valued, along with hard work.  Almost everything about the people in this book is admirable, their tenacity, resilience, and dedication.  What may shock some is how unemotional they are.  To hug or say you care about anyone is taboo, even for children.  This was the saddest thing in the book for me.

I found the descriptions of how they ate the most interesting.  Gardening, canning, careful planning and a lot of hard work insured the family never went hungry in a time of great need and actually ate a lot of very delicious sounding fare (and some not so appetizing dishes such as head cheese).  There are even a number of recipes presented that I would like to try at some point.  It seems like every dish contained copious amounts of either bacon or butter, how could you possibly go wrong?

The main reason I found this book so fascinating is I felt it gave me a great deal of insight into the lives of my grandparents who are similar in age to the author and grew up just one state to the west and also grew up on farms or ranches.  I wonder if they had the same experiences the author described.  A lot of the stories my grandparents told me about their childhoods came to mind while I read this novel, especially my grandma helping me make May baskets during a stay at our house when I was around 10.  I envisioned the things the author described happening in the barns, buildings, and cellars of my grandmother’s ranch.

I would definitely recommend this book, especially if you have ties to farming life or the mid-west.  It provides excellent insight into the lives of my grandparents’ generation, and what they went on to teach their children.  You’ll be amazed by the resourcefulness of these people and by their work ethic.  The mid-western philosophy resonates through this book, but the author also shows a softening of some of the harder edges portrayed.

Perhaps it is contradictory that as a scientist I don’t generally enjoy reading non-fiction.  I know many scientists who only read non-fiction, especially that of a scientific nature.  I prefer to read for an escape, and as my career requires I spend a lot of time reading primary literature, I tend to use my spare time to read things of a less serious nature.  That being said, I am willing to read almost anything, I just generally choose fiction.  This month’s book club selection falls into the non-fiction category, The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine is an interesting look into the neuroanatomy of a woman’s brain beginning with her time in her mother’s womb and exploring the changes that occur through advanced age.

The author, a neurotherapist and founder of a clinic dealing with the special aspects of female neurobiology, presents the information in this book in unabashedly pro-woman fashion.  Sometimes this comes at the expense of the value of the male brain and there is quite a bit of minimizing the positive aspects of male neurodevelopment, generally to highlight the strengths of the female mind.  I’m not claiming that the author isn’t justified in this perspective, with most neuroscience research conducted in males and most text-books centering on male development, this book may be the only chance the female brain gets in the spot-light.  It’s just that as a scientist, reading such an unbalanced presentation felt a little grating and heavy-handed at times.  Feminism is the belief that men and women are created equal, that neither is superior, some women forget this point.

It is the belief that the male and female brains are essentially the same that the author soundly repudiates in this book.  I think a great deal of this is common sense, we can look around us, examine our relationships, and see that there are fundamental differences between men and women.  The author allows us to understand these differences on a biological level, describing how hormones influence brain function and how the changes in hormones over a woman’s lifetime impact her and the way she views the world.  Dr. Brizendine contends that if we understand the way hormones and development influence our brain function then we are in control of how we react to our biology.

There are a couple scientific errors in the text that jumped out at me (especially since she restates one fallicy multiple times).  Still I found this book an interesting and informative read.  Preparing to introduce a new girl into my family, the first part of the book describing how the brains of infants and young girls develop was very helpful and has made me realize that its OK to give a girl dolls if she wants them and not worry that you are predetermining her destiny by forcing gender roles upon her.  It also gave me some insight into my own behavior (there’s a section on the mommy/pregnancy brain) and a bit about my mother.  I’ve encouraged Matthew to read it because I feel that men could gain some perspective on the women in their lives by reading this book.  I also came to appreciate that some of the differences between men and women are fundamental enough that we need to stop blaming one another for our inability to understand the opposite sex.  The book is not too technical in my opinion, though some members of the book club found it to be text-book like at times.  I think anyone who wants to understand women better will find this book to be an excellent resource; its really quite engaging and uses stories of individuals to illustrate the science.  It’s an easy read and worth the effort.

So I skipped a month of book club book reviews because I wasn’t able to make myself completely finish Animal, Vegetable, Micracle by Barbara Kingslover.  I have to admit, she’s not my favorite writer, and this book shows me how much the narrative of the characters in the other book I read by her (Prodigal Summer) sounds like her own voice.  Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is not for people like me, it’s for people who’ve never known what it’s like to live a rural life or grow their own food; if you have done those things, listening to her espouse about it can seem a bit condescending.  I did learn some interesting things though, so if you like environmentally oriented books and are interested in gardening, you might enjoy this tome (despite some scientific mistakes).

It was my month to choose a book for book club, and after seeing it on a list in Real Simple magazine (the only magazine I subscribe to by the way, and I really like it), I chose Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. The setting is an unnamed South American country where a grand party is being thrown for a Japanese business man’s birthday to encourage investment in the local economy.  Many dignitaries and their wives are present at this gala held in the Vice-President’s mansion.  The real incentive and reason for attendance is a performance by a world famous Opera Singer, the soprano Roxanne Coss.  The issue eventually becomes who is not in attendance, namely the country’s President.  He has stayed home to attend to less important matters, which eventually lands all the party guests in a heap of trouble when a group of terrorists infiltrate the house in an attempt to kidnap the President.

Their plan thwarted, the terrorist make a series of rash decisions, ultimately leading to taking the entire party captive.  The beginning of captivity is marked by tragedy, but as it becomes evident neither side will negotiate, and the captives are held longer and longer, a sort of contentment develops for all parties.  Routines are established, the soprano sings for everyone, friendships develop, and love blooms.  The captives start to see the that the terrorists are people too.  The terrorists become friends with their prisoners, learn from them, come to respect them.  And they all perfect the art of forgetting; forgetting who they are and why they’re stuck in this separate little world.

As you may suspect, and as the author hints many times throughout the novel, no good can come of this situation.  The events as they unfold drastically change the lives of all who are there, but as it did during the long captivity, the world goes on when all is said and done.

This book is really a study of character, with special consideration for the love of music.  The consistent theme throughout the novel is music as a living force, something that occupies a person’s soul, music as a metaphor for life and love.  Everyone finds the soprano to be amazingly beautiful and they are enraptured by her, though they often remark that she is actually quite small and plain, a testament to the power of beauty to transform.

Bel Canto is a good read, if a bit slow at times.  The middle section is a tad difficult to plow through mainly because no progress seems to be made.  The boredom that sometimes overwhelms the captives comes through a bit too well.  My only real complaint with the book is the Epilogue, I just can’t buy it.  Psychologically it makes sense on several levels, but it feels a bit like a betrayal.  If you’re a classical music buff, I think you would enjoy this book even more than I did as you would understand a lot of the musical references that went over my head.  Even if you’re not into music, the human connections are so easy to relate to, it’s impossible not to have empathy for the characters.

What we’re reading this month:  The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine.

July’s book club selection was The Blood of Flowers by Anita Amirrezvani.  Set in early 1600s Iran, this novel tells the tale of a young girl and her mother, who after the unfortunate death of the girl’s father, are forced to seek out their sole relatives in a far away city, and begin a life completely different than the existence they knew in their tiny village.

The girl (about 15) and her mother are more or less slaves to the whims of their hosts, the step-brother of the girl’s father and his tempestuous and conniving wife.  Though essentially reduced to servitude, there are some bright spots in the lives of the main character and her mother.  The girl has a thirst for knowledge, particularly the art of Persian rug making, at which her uncle is an expert and employed by the Shah.  He teaches her a great deal about the aesthetics of this much beloved art form and she is a good student.  She also makes friends with a wealthy girl who teaches her to read and write, but her new friend also uses the girl causing her grief.  The mother works brewing herbal medicine for the wealthy neighbors and between her daughters rug making and her cures they hope to save money for a dowry for the girl.  Unfortunately, the girl makes some bad choices that anger the relatives, and the aunt then uses her power over the two women to pressure them to accept an unfair and damaging proposition for a sigheh, a three month marriage contract that essentially turns the young girl into a prostitute and eventually puts her at odds with everyone she holds dear.  Among all the serious things that happen, the descriptions of her time with her “husband” and all her hard work, it is easy to forget that the main character is still very young.  Her age and inexperience eventually cause her to act in ways that she believes are for the better, but whose consequences she has not contemplated fully.  These decisions lead the mother and daughter down a dark path into destitution, and difficult choices must be made to ensure their survival.

This is a well crafted novel, with vivid descriptions that allow you to almost smell and taste the world the characters inhabit.  The author uses folk tales told by the characters to make important connections and add a sense of history.  The main character is never named, an homage to all the unnamed artisans from that time (only great masters were allowed to sign their work).

In general, I enjoyed this book.  I was a bit rushed to finish it because of a mix-up at the library, which perhaps made me a bit impatient.  The beautiful descriptions that are such an intricate part of this book sometimes feel repetitive and overly flowery.  It takes a great deal of exposition before the characters get into the heart of the story, which makes getting into the book more difficult.  My least favorite thing about the book was the opening chapter, it starts off describing the girl and her mother and how far they have fallen, though it doesn’t say why.  This plot device is neither original nor compelling, I feel it seriously diminishes the tension that the author works so astutely to build.  I enjoyed the ending, but it left me feeling as if the novel itself was a long version of the folk tales peppered through its pages.  It seems cynical to say this, but given the setting and mores of the time, the finale of the book is a bit too optimistic.  All of those criticisms aside, if you have the time and patience for an author who is sometimes a tad too pleased with her own use of metaphor and simile, this is an enjoyable read.  I wouldn’t recommend this book for younger girls because it does contains some very detailed descriptions which are sexual in nature.  I think it would be a good beach or travel read; it definitely has dark themes and is very sad at times, but it is uplifting in the end, and less depressing than more modern day accounts of the women of Iran.

What we’re reading this month:  Aninmal, Mineral, Vegetable: a year of food life by Barbara Kingslover et al.

Subtitle:  The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex by Mary Roach

Listening to NPR one day in the lab, I happened to catch an interview of Mary Roach regarding a her new book Bonk.  The interchange was quite witty and clever, with a good dose of humor thrown in, which made me think I might like to read a book by Mary Roach.  So I put my name on the request list at the Berkeley Public Library for all three of the books by the author in question.  The first book to become available was not the one I will review here, but Stiff: The curious lives of cadavers.  Now don’t get me wrong, this is also a good book, as much as I could stomach of it.  Amusing and interesting, the first few chapters that I got through were fun to read, though a little difficult if you’re prone to queasiness.  I eventually had to give up reading it after an unfortunate attempt to read on BART (the hour trip to the airport to pick up my family when they came to visit caused a pretty bad bout of motion sickness, no doubt aided by the detailed descriptions of the treatment of corpses).

When I got the e-mail telling me Bonk was available for pick-up I was ready to give Mary Roach another shot.  One of the problems of getting reserved books is that you can’t renew them, so you have a limited time to get them read.  Luckily for me, I was able to read this particular book in good time, partially because the text is so engaging, and also because it’s just funny.  Because this is a family site, I won’t go too much into the details of this particular volume.  Being a scientist, I am always intrigued by the history behind science, and the often unexpected ways things converge.  Mary Roach has a talent not only for quick witted comments and double entendres, but also for making the science interesting and giving proper perspective.  This is definitely a book that will have you reading passages out loud to your significant other.  Mary Roach does an excellent job of describing the atmosphere regarding scientific endeavors exploring areas of sexual research during different periods of history.  And how can you not respect an author who is willing to participate in the subject; not only does she participate as a research participant in one study, she convinces her husband to fly to London and the two of them become subjects in a study that involves the couple in an MRI tube, cramped quarters.  That’s one giving husband!

What is not surprising is that attitudes toward this sort of research haven’t really changed so much as we all might think.  The problems facing reserachers who are interested in understanding the physiology and psychology of the sexual response are fundamental to scientists in general.  They must be able to justify the research as a way to profit from people’s problems.

The main point I would like to convey is that this book is a very enjoyable read if you are not sqeamish about hearing the intimate details of the human reproductive system.  It also shows how much is yet to be understood, in part because of the tricky nature of such research and the difficulty convicing people that the research is worthwhile and on the up and up.  If you are not made uncomfortable by such subjects, you will laugh heartily at this book, you will chuckle under your breath at the jokes (especially those in the footnotes) and you will gasp at the sort of things people allow themselves to be subjected to in the name of science.

On the suggestion of a light-hearted read for June’s book club choice, the members of the book club to which I belong chose Becoming Latina in 10 Easty Steps by Lara Rios over a more somber novel. The premise sounds promising, a late-twenties woman from a Mexican family (which has been in the states several generations) finds out that her father is actually a mysterious white man and she starts to question her dedication to her culture and even her connections to her family. To remedy this, the protagonist, Marcela, decides she will rededicate herself to her roots. So she makes a list of 10 things to make her self more Latina; this includes getting involved in causes, mentoring a Latina youth, learning to cook Mexican food and visiting Mexico, as well as more dubious aims such as finding a Mexican guy to date and eventually marry. Marcela makes all these plans without really giving much thought to them and what they will require of her. Mostly she approaches the aims by breaking out her check-book, shelling out for private cooking lessons, making donations to charities, but when she really becomes personally involved in the steps on her list, all hell breaks loose and Marcela’s relationship issues, not her ethnic identity, become the driving force. The ending is predictable, with Marcela coming to huge revelations about herself and how she views being Latina and her family.

The story is set up diary style, a la Bridge Jones’ Diary but not as clever or well done. Like Bridget Jones, Marcela makes some amazingly stupid decisions, some of which are ridiculously dangerous that serve as poor plot devices. Going on a date with a gang member, really, when does this ever sound like a good idea? The book is easy to read, completely conversational in style. In my opinion, too conversational. Some times the prose gets hard to read because it’s so bland. There’s no excitement in word choice, no descriptions that make you feel like you’re in the story. One thing I didn’t know when we agreed on this book was that it really is a romance novel. I generally avoid romance novels because I don’t find them very interesting, this was definitely better than most romance novels (though I don’t have much basis for comparison). This is unfortunately not a G-rated book and therefore probably not appropriate for the younger teenage girls that could benefit most from its attempted message. For more mature ladies, the more intimate passages are more annoying than enthralling, a distraction from the story. Though it hits on racism as experienced by Latinos in America, it unapologetically embraces the racism those same Latinos frequently exhibit. I think the author missed a really good chance to make an important point about racism among different people, but excused or embraced it instead. But in the end, it’s not that kind of book, and doesn’t pretend to be. If you enjoy romance novels, this might be an enjoyable beach read, if you’re not a romance novel fan, I say skip it and save yourself some disappointment.

It was my turn to select what we would read for the monthly book club to which I belong. Based on some info I found on the internet, including reviews and synopses, I choose The Speed of Dark by Elizabeth Moon. The story is set in the not too distant future, and centers around Lou who is autistic. Not too long after Lou was born, scientists figured out how to cure autism either in utero or shortly after birth. Though Lou did not benefit from this technology, the therapies and treatments he received allow him to function very well in society. He has a good job at a company detecting patterns in data; a vocation that suits him and his special abilities perfectly. His company has made adjustments for their special employees that allow them to cope with the world around them and perform their duties with efficiency. Lou enjoys his one hobby, fencing, and has developed feelings for one of the other fencers in his club. Things start to take a nasty turn for Lou and the others in his section when their new boss decides their special accommodations cost too much. This new boss is frighteningly ambitious and thinks he could make a name for himself in the company by turning the group of autistics into the first test subjects in a newly acquired protocol for curing autism in adults. Essentially they become guinea pigs or loose their jobs.

Lou and the others in his office have worked hard to adapt to the world. Lou knows what he should say and what he should do in social interactions, even if he doesn’t understand why. They are understandably nervous that curing their autism will change them into completely different people, despite the reassurances of the scientists that they will be themselves, only without the autism. But the condition is so fundamental to who they are, the jobs they do, the way they perceive the world, how could eliminating their autism not change them? There are others though, who are quietly working to protect the autistics from this harassment, and ensure they are able to make choices for themselves.

In Lou’s personal life he also has a dark problem that he did not cause and finds very hard to accept. To Lou, a person who acts like a friend should always behave like a friend, and you should not think badly of friends no matter what. Lou learns the hard way that friendships can turn sour and that “normal” people have difficulties accepting the world as well. As all these events befall him, Lou realizes that he is changing and growing. And he has some very difficult decisions to make.

This book explores themes that apply to more than just autism. Like autistics, anyone who is different is pressured to fit into a mold, which may or may not be in their best interests. Lou often feels that “normal” people think is not a whole person, some how incomplete, even though he does what he is taught he should and “normal” people often do not. Most of the narrative comes from Lou, which can make this book a little difficult to read because it is so true to his autistic voice. Even his inner monologue is stilted with few transitions, purely logical saying no more and no less than needs to be said. The two other narrators are his fencing coach and a superior at work. These sections show how much Lou has endeared himself to the people in his world, how unique he is, and how people want to protect him because they feel he can’t protect himself. In the end, Lou surprises everyone, even himself, with his strength and resiliency and shows that light can overcome the speed of dark. The ethics of human experimentation is also explored and perhaps the outcomes are a tad over ambitious. I would definitely recommend this book, and that was the consensus of the book club as well, we all enjoyed it. I found it both compelling and enlightening. I have a cousin who is autistic that I haven’t seen in many many years, this book made me wonder how he thinks, and if the world will ever adapt to him if he can adapt to the world. An interesting fact about the author, she has a son who is autistic. This work is apparently much more serious than her other novels, but I imagine she has a unique perspective that allowed for this satisfying read.

On my trip back from NYC, I had already finished Water for Elephants and still had a 5+ hour flight ahead of me. Though sleep sounded very appealing, I’m not a good travel sleeper, so I knew I’d better pick up something to keep me occupied. I perused the selections at the shop in the airport. I wasn’t sure what I was in the mood for, but The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penney appealed to me most.

This debut novel is set in the Canadian wilderness at the end of the 19th century. A time of trappers and companies ruled by interests back in England, this story gently reminds us of the environmental consequences of depleting natural resources, both to the world and to human financial interests. At its heart, this is a murder mystery. The story begins with the gruesome killing of a trapper in the small community of Dove River and the discovery of the scene by his neighbor Mrs. Ross along with the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Ross’s son. The intrigue revolves around the search for the murderer, which is undertaken by Company men who are essentially the law in the wilderness. There is much conflict between the desire of Mrs. Ross to prove her son is not the murder, and the certainty of the Company men that they know who is guilty, but only have to find him. Of course this tension leads to a cross-country search for the boy in the heart of winter, followed by a search for more answers at a remote outpost. As in all good mysteries, the truth is discovered to be far more complicated than anyone imagined. Perhaps too complicated.

This is where my criticism of this book lies. The story itself is compelling; the prose is lyric with picturesque descriptions and imaginative details. The narration switches between several characters in the book, giving interesting and varied perspectives on the tale. In having so many narrators, this novel turns into not one but several intertwining accounts. The only problem with this is that each individual narrator brings his or her own questions, and they are not all resolved. The end of the book feels a bit rushed, and rather anti-climactic. The readers is left with quite a few questions, perhaps this is done as a stylistic point but it is a tad disappointing. There are also some tangential stories that feel forced as mechanisms to bring the characters together. It is a good novel, if not completely satisfying.

l have been really lucky since moving to Berkeley in finding an awesome book club. A good friend of mine from high school happens to live in San Fransisco, an easy half-hour train ride from me. Having lived in the Bay Area a while, and just generally being a sociable type person, she and a bunch of friends formed a book club, and invited me to join. Originally, it was loosely themed something along the lines of “International Women’s Issues.” After we got tired of reading really depressing (though enlightening) books we decided to go for a bit lighter fare. The numbers of the group have dwindled slightly, but there are four of us who come every month. I can’t express how much I’ve enjoyed this group. Great conversation, great literature, and great food. What’s not to love!?!

This month’s choice Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen chosen by another group member. I have to say I really enjoyed this book. I actually read about three-quarters of the book on our plane ride to NYC. It’s a real page-turner, very compelling. The story is told as flashbacks from an elderly man, Jacob, in a nursing home, remembering his “salad days” when he traveled with the circus. It is a story of tragedy and intrigue; the not so happy side of the circus life is detailed as well. You can’t help but feel for both the animals and humans transported by train from one town to the next, in conditions that by today’s standards would be criminal. In addition, this a story of love and devotion, of fear and greed, of loyalty and loss. Jacob falls for one of the glamorous circus stars, who is unfortunately married to the brilliant but maniacal animal director. In some ways, it is a little too much of the rescuing a princess held captive story, but it is also much more. You also get a feeling for what it is like to be old and put out to pasture in a nursing home from a perspective rarely given. In Jacob there is resilience where the world has decided there can only be frailty, and you can’t help but root for him. So if you’re looking for a pleasant read while traveling, or are interested in the good-old days of the circus, this book will deliver.