Happy Accidents by Jane Lynch

If I could go back in time and talk to my twenty-year-old self, the first thing I would say is: "Lose the perm." Secondly I would say: "Relax. Really. Just relax. Don't sweat it."

I don't usually read celebrity memoirs. For one thing, I don't follow anyone so much that I want to know their life history. Okay, there have been times when I have had this insane schoolgirl crush on some handsome actor (anyone remember the Leonardo DiCaprio craze following Titanic?) but with time, I've come to feel respect for them and nothing more. The other reason is that I don't watch so many TV shows or movies to be able to relate to any showbiz talk. So Jane Lynch's Happy Accidents was a first of sorts for me. I don't think reading this memoir is going to make me more eager to try other celebrity biographies, but I'm glad that I tried.

I wanted to read Happy Accidents because I love Jane Lynch's role in Glee. I don't think I've seen a more malevolent, cruel, racist and yet sensitive, and funny (without meaning to be) character on screen. That's a deadly combo and would be too hard to pull off, but Jane Lynch does it well. So many of her quotes have become near-pop culture (at least, I like to say that). And I wanted to read more about her, because here was an actor who looked as next-door-neighbor-like as was possible.

In Happy Accidents, Jane Lynch talks mostly about her career and her personal life. If you read the first few pages and the last few pages, you can really see that her life has changed drastically. At 14, she yearned to be actor, only to quit a school play out of fright. When she realized that she was gay, she knew that she could never ever tell anyone about it, fearing that it was bad to be so and that people will mock her. By the end, it's amazing how she has catapulted to being a very popular actress, and happily-married to a wonderful woman who she totally met by chance.

(Picture source)

What I loved most about this book was that Jane didn't rattle off Hollywood facts and figures or talk so much about Hollywood in itself that I was able to read the book as a regular memoir. Sometimes, you could even be fooled into thinking that Jane Lynch wasn't a popular actress, if you didn't know it beforehand. Even though, I didn't know all the movies/TV shows she had acted it, it wasn't hard following her growth from acting in theater to getting some regular jigs.

But what I loved reading the most was about her personal life. Her relationship with her friends, girlfriends and boyfriends, and how she kept pushing off people and struggled with getting closer to them. Jane also talked about her homosexuality and how she stayed in the closet for a long time, because of her reluctance to embrace or accept it, even though one of her closest friends in high school was also gay; and how she began to distance herself from her family gradually because she couldn't come to admit it to them.

In a nutshell, I enjoyed this memoir. It was an easy read and funny in spots though not reminiscent of Sue Sylvester (because of course, Jane Lynch is so much nicer!) There are a lot of pictures scattered through the book spanning Jane's life from when she was very little to her more recent photos with her wife. There were some repetitions that bugged me occasionally, making me think that the book could have done with some good editing. I loved some of the stories that Jane shared from her life, and appreciated that she didn't get all preachy on the reader, but only stuck to what worked for her. But mostly, I appreciated her honesty in sharing even her innermost fears and desires, and some very embarrassing mistakes without trying to sugarcoat things on paper.


I borrowed this book from my library.

Listening to David Sedaris (Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk and Naked)

This summer, I was on the lookout for audiobooks to listen to during the few road trips I had planned, when I finally decided to listen to David Sedaris' titles. Although I had a print copy of his Naked on my shelf, which I started reading sometime last year, I couldn't appreciate his self-deprecating humor too well then. I had also heard it told that Sedaris' books are best appreciated on audio than while reading, and after listening to two of his books - Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk and Naked - I have to agree.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk was his first title that I listened to. That was the shortest audio my library had of his and since my drive wasn't going to be too long, I wanted to be done with the book before I reached my destination. In retrospect, this probably wasn't the best decision I made, because from what other readers told me, it wasn't his typical fare, and I didn't enjoy it too well either. Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk contains several fables from the animal kingdom - most of which are very dark tales and typically ended in tragedy or cold humor.

As it has been a while since I listened to this book, I don't remember the specific details of some of the stories, but I do remember enjoying the first story very well. The stories following that got progressively depressing, so towards the end of each story, I braced for a potential macabre twist. One thing I did enjoy about most of the stories was that many of them drew parallels with the real world human situation. One of the stories tackled racism, yet another one talked about bureaucracy, a third one about sitting through mandatory AA meetings. But some were pretty morbid too, and I won't go into any detail on that. Suffice it to say that I needed to roll down my windows occasionally to let in some air. On the whole, I did enjoy some of the stories, while others were a letdown.

For another ride, I picked Naked, hoping it was as different as possible from Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk. While the latter was fiction, Naked is a nonfiction account of some events from David Sedaris' life. All his stories are underlined by a self-deprecating humor that, if you read at the right moment, you can't help but laugh at. Like with most books of essays/stories, there were some I liked more than others. My favorite was the last story - which is also titled Naked - and recounts the author's experiences staying in a nudist colony - a place where the visitors do everything naked, that is everything they would do at a resort - play outdoor games, swim, relax in a jacuzzi or even go for a stroll.

I enjoyed Naked a lot more than Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk. The stories are funny, even when they are not meant to be. He manages to lace even his disappointing or sad experiences with humor so although I felt sad for him, I loved how he looked at them. I liked his perspective on a wide variety of topics, including his own family. His stories about his obsessive-compulsive behavior, his gay orientation, his sarcastic mother (who I loved!), his crazy grandmother, and his strange wonderful family. This collection was definitely ride-worthy, and I'm looking forward to listening to another David Sedaris soon.

I borrowed both audiobooks from my library.

Vietnamerica by GB Tran

(I've been writing this review for three nights and never quite getting it right, so I'm just going to go ahead with what I've written so far.) This year, I seem to have read a lot of books about characters (real or fictional) who try to get to know their roots better. Some go to their native country or the country their ancestors are from. Others reconnect with their families. I don't know if I'm semi-consciously levitating towards such books or if it's all chance. This is the second time that I'm reading a book on such a theme via the graphic medium (the first was Maus). I was curious about how this would turn out. On one hand, this is a great medium for demonstrating the feelings and emotions of the characters. On the other hand, getting to know your roots mean a lot of introspection - not always well-displayed through pictures. Some amount of dialogue would be needed and the artist's talent determines how well he can convey that without getting too wordy.

Vietnamerica by GB Tran is an account of the author's trip to Vietnam with his parents and his discovery of his family's rich ancestral history, of which he knew nothing about, nor professed any interest in earlier. He had a vague idea that his parents had fled Saigon in the 70s, but they never talked about it. It is years later, when the author's two living grandparents die within a few months of each other, that they make the trip to Vietnam - to pay respects and to connect with their history.

(Picture source)

There is a lot that goes on in this book. GB Tran paints a history that goes back to three generations in his family. His father's reticence and his mother's commitment to a fractious marriage are the main two issues resolved, but both are consequences of actions much older than them. We don't quite get there until the end, but the evidence is seen very early. Rather than provide a chronological approach, GB Tran links specific events or chapters by context, thereby letting the reader draw the connection between the characters. Occasionally he slips between the present and the past, thereby forging a connection between an antique object or a specific characteristic, to something in the past. I found this stress on context really worked well, because as readers, we may not remember pictures as easily as specific incidents described in words. The downside to this was that I had trouble keeping the timeline straight. Since events are linked by context more than time, the timeline wasn't always clear to me. And that's where the disjointed jumping around lost me.

At 320+ large and very colorful pages, this book is huge! There are a lot of characters, and at times, I did get them mixed up - I didn't have trouble with names, but occasionally I forgot who a specific character was, or which set of grandparents the author was talking about. Still, after a while, I did get them all straight and adapted well to the flow of the book. It's especially painful thinking how much the effect of something that happened a generation or two ago can still be felt so acutely. There's the grandfather who was pretty much absent from his son's life, but then that son grows up to be a distant and taciturn father.

Overall, I thought this was a pretty decent attempt at the exploration of one's past in graphic media. I don't think it worked as well as it could have. GB Tran's artwork is certainly very beautiful. There are vivid splashes of color across the pages. The author however doesn't appear to be actively interested in all the history - he seems to be a disinterested spectator at best. Eventually, when he does make the jump, I found it hard to believe. Still, the history of Vietnam made for rich reading. It's always nice to read about it from the local perspective.

I borrowed this book from my library.

The Lost Girls by Jennifer Baggett, Holly Corbett and Amanda Pressner

Less that three hours after we'd started, our group sat cross-legged on a stone terrace to soak up the moment we'd trekked twenty-six miles to witness: The first rays peeked out from behind the sprawling ruins of Machu Picchu. As the sky morphed from pink to gold to periwinkle, the light pushed shadows across the stones, making them appear to be living, breathing beings.

After reading my last memoir/travelogue, I thought I was done with them. It was mostly because the authors were either in a mid-life crisis and decided to travel or the whole self-discovery phase felt a bit strange or impersonal to me. But I took a short or rather long detour when I saw this book on the TLC Book Tours listing. Because, I just loved the sound of it. Three girlfriends who drop everything - work, life, relationships - and take a one year trek around the world. Now, who among us hasn't fantasized about something like that? I won't say that I envisioned leaving everything for a year or even half, but a month is usually what I've imagined. I've always disliked being tied down to or by anything just as much as I love having something (work, family) to belong to. Those are very conflicting emotions, which is why I was curious about how the authors of this book did it. They all had jobs that could easily replace them on the merit of even a half-day absence. Two of them had boyfriends they were seeing seriously, and asking them to wait for a year is never an enticing option. And yet, somehow they decided that they needed to make this journey. I absolutely loved these girls!

The plan to go on a one-year visit sprung when Jennifer, Amanda and Holly visited the Iguazu Falls in Argentina/Brazil. Far away from home and work, it was easy to envision doing this again, over a longer period. And so they decided to start saving and begin planning. It wasn't that simple. Amanda's career was spiraling downward. Jennifer's boyfriend of four years was not happy to hear about the plan. Holly didn't have enough money. All problems other than a mid-life crisis, which is definitely a serious problem (I'm not belittling that). And I go through a life crisis every once in a while, but there's only so much about it that I can read. These three girls supported each other and each knew that they can't make this trip with even one of them absent. 

The Lost Girls was very entertaining to read. The girls' travels and adventures were quite fun, literal and not too symbolic. It wasn't dry like reading a book from the travel section of a bookstore, nor was it philosophical enough to be a spiritual or a self-discovery read. Rather, the girls had enough fun, learned a lot from the people they met, and worried about their links back home. I didn't feel them hold back anything as they shared their worries, squabbles and dreams. Staying with the same people every day for over a year can mean fights and disagreements, which they readily admit to. For instance, Jennifer wanted them to stay away from any kind of work, because to her, the whole purpose of the trip was to get a break from work. Amanda, however, could not abstain from sending pitches to a few editors back in the States. She couldn't totally divorce herself from writing, which to her is an outlet for expression, and not work, as it is for Jennifer.

The writing is however, not stellar. I found this to be the one demerit of this book. I didn't find it an issue that three different people co-authored this book. In fact, I found their writing styles to be very similar, that I didn't have to worry about slipping from one person's perspective to another. (The chapters of the book are alternately written by the three girls.) Instead, I feel a better editing job could have been done. There are a lot of repetitions, and quite a few typos. In fact, at one point, even a religion is misspelled. Some of the dialogue felt contrived to me. I get that some must have been in place for our benefit, but it felt too obvious and forced at places. Initially, I found it amusing how matters of the toilet were foremost in their minds as they went from place to place. However, after a while, it stopped feeling that important or interesting to read about.

Overall, this has been a delightful read and has quite inspired the traveler in me. I doubt I'll ever do something as wild, but I do want to get out more often. What I most loved about this book was how strongly the personalities of the three girls laced the pages, and how very much like normal girls they were. When they visited Machu Picchu, I admit I was insanely jealous. How much I've wanted to visit that place since I read about it in my History book at school (at least there was some benefit to learning about all that in school)! And my most anticipated chapters were the ones in which the authors visited India (of course). I've always been fascinated with the outside-in perspective and found it interesting how some of their observations felt like deja-vu to me. Mostly, I loved feeling that I was a part of their group as I was reading the book, and that makes this 500-page travelogue a win for me.

I received this book for free from the publisher via TLC Book Tours.

The Long Goodbye by Meghan O'Rourke

Many Americans don’t wear black or beat their chests and wail in front of others. We may–I have done it–weep or despair, but we tend to do it alone, in the middle of the night. Although our culture has become more open about everything from incest to sex addiction, grief seemed to me like the last taboo. In our culture of display, the sadness of death is largely silent.

When Meghan O'Rourke's mother dies, she is totally unprepared for the grief that envelopes her. Even though, she had time to "get used" to the idea that her mother will be no more (a callous euphemism often suggested by the odd person outside the grief circle), it was still a crippling alternating detachment and emotion that grips her. The Long Goodbye is a novel about grief - her grief at losing her mother to cancer, but it could just as easily have been a grief about losing anyone you love intensely. How does one deal with such a universal yet highly personal phenomenon?

When I read the synopsis of this book, I was really eager to read it. I went through a brief episode of grief last year and I remember feeling terribly lost, sad and unconnected. Suddenly, I couldn't relate to anyone. I couldn't form new relationships, I began to judge people I knew by how they reacted to my sadness. Many didn't know how to, and some overdid it. So when the synopsis asked why we are still uncomfortable with someone grieving and why we are not more open about it, I might as well have been asking those questions.

Most of what Meghan wrote easily synced with me - how when she first heard the news about her mother's cancer, she would distract herself by playing games, how she soon decided to get engaged as if happy events will reverse the scenario, and how her subsequent marriage didn't take long to crumble because her husband and she couldn't really connect as well with each other in light of her mother's cancer. Her whole family was coping with similar feelings of sorrow, but they could still not talk about it - anger was a common feeling Meghan experienced during that time.

And after her mother died, it was like time stopped for her. It was like the music stopped playing and there was just this deafening silence around her. When people asked her how she felt, she quickly figured out that telling the truth will only make them uncomfortable. So she pretends everything's fine. That doesn't work as well either because she truly isn't. She searches for a metaphor to represent her mother, because even months later, the fact of her mother's death just hasn't sunk in - she still expects her mother to suddenly come and stand in front of her.

Meghan O'Rourke writes a really wonderful memoir of grief itself. It's not intended to be a theoretical look at how humans mourn, instead it's just a first-person account of how she did, and yet somehow, it feels mostly familiar. Loss is not something that we respond well to. Like the author, I am terrified of death. She recounts many episodes from her life, when she was saddened by the concept of the impermanence of life. I remember myself growing up scared of the realization. I went through a phase when if my dad was even a few minutes late to return home, I would get paranoid. She understands that believing in the afterlife can possibly do wonders, but in today's world there are probably fewer people who believe in it.

The Long Goodbye is not overly depressing, even though death and grief figure in it. Although it's written in a very personal manner, I also found it to be detached, as if Meghan was writing it from a third person's perspective, as if we were watching it happen in front of us, so I rarely felt Meghan's grief pour over me. That helped because I was able to be objective about her experiences and understand grief as a separate entity. I was fascinated with how the author yearned to get better - she was convinced that rituals like those practiced in Jewish or Chinese homes, or even public mourning would ease the matter of accepting death sooner, even though I personally don't agree with that. She mentions how the American culture is largely stilted in its display of emotions. Grief might be shared, but it is also a largely private matter. I do think, however, that more people from across the world would share this sentiment - rituals are still practiced, but people are becoming increasingly lonely and private, and families nuclear. She also feels very antagonistic towards people who don't ask her the right questions or pretend that nothing's wrong. I remember how miserable I felt when people around me went on with their lives and just oohed and aahed when they saw me sad. Much as I resented that, I couldn't pretend that they were "ignorant". It is a sad reality that we rarely know how to respond to someone in grief, and rarely does anything we do ever look "right". It's always too much or too less.

For the most part, I thought this was a wonderful memoir. If you are truly curious about reading about grief, from a first person narrative, this is a good one. You may mourn in a very different way - some people are very open about it, and some excuse themselves often to have a private cry, but in so many ways, the elements of grief are very similar - the feeling of betrayal (because something precious was snatched away from you), denial, anticipating the worst and then being in shock when it actually happens, inability to connect with anyone new or form long relationships, and a desire to learn more about the person who left you. I did cry, after all the death of a mother is never an easy matter to read about, but mostly I was curious to know how the author handled it and the innumerable references she shared about others who have grieved.

I received this book for free from the publisher via TLC Book Tours. Check out my giveaway of this book.

Radio Shangri-La by Lisa Napoli

If you walked into any village in all of Bhutan and shouted "Karma", a quarter of the heads would turn. There are only about fifty names in the whole country... There are no familial surnames, and most names are unisex. So it is entirely possible that a family could be made up of a mother named Karma Wangdi and a father named Karma Lhamo, a child named Karma Choden, and another named Lhamo Wangdi. 

When I was first offered to review this book, I spent a while thinking about Bhutan, the country which is the focus of this travelogue memoir. The first sad thing I realized was that even in spite of having stayed for eight years in India, and having grown up on a steady diet of news regarding the southern Asian peninsula, Bhutan very rarely featured in any flash news from that region. Although I knew plenty about Bhutan, there was still a lot I didn't. That, as well as the real reason why news about Bhutan rarely invaded my living room couch, was revealed to me in this book.

Radio Shangri-La is about Lisa Napoli's rediscovery of self through this remotely tucked away country in Asia. The book started out typically - a mid-life crisis bringing about a yearning for travel - especially to a little known country shrouded in mysticism and full of a promise of spiritual awakening. Warning flags immediately started popping up in my antenna - I haven't still forgotten the debacle that was Eat, Pray, Love. Luckily though, Lisa Napoli is very practical, and doesn't start off with dumping all her issues on us. In fact, it is many pages later that we really know what her troubles are. If not for the candid admission in the Preface that this is a story of her midlife crisis, I might have taken her for any one of us.

By the end of the book, I've learned enough about Bhutan to wonder which planet this country was in. Bhutan's monarchy made a conscious decision not to be "corrupted" by outside influences. It's unbelievably hard to get into this country - $200 per head per day! (Even if that hefty pay serves to keep most potential tourists out of the country, and thus not turn Bhutan into yet another country that serves as the world's spiritual ground, it's not a policy I approve of.) Lisa vividly describes the many customs of the country and its geographic characteristics that I could picture the place so well in my mind's eye. Too often, I find travelogues focus on only some particular aspect of a country. Not Lisa's, though. She doesn't stick to exploring only one facet of her favorite place in the world - instead she easily delves into other political and commercial news, and shares them with us.

I liked the second half of the book better than the first. The first half was way too descriptive for me, while the pacing of the second half a lot faster. The first half is really the exploration / rediscovery / change part of the author's life, and consistent with that, she shares a lot of what she learns during that phase with us. It has whole chapters that show what makes Bhutan the way it is -- resilient, incorruptible, paradisaical. I appreciated how well she made a case for it. But the second half, which is the acceptance / moving on part shows the reverse culture clash -- of her returning back to the states, completely transformed; and of one of her favorite people from Bhutan, who comes to visit her in LA.

Moreover, the first half of the book focuses on the "good" side of Bhutan. I may not have visited Bhutan, but there's a lot (esp the customs) that sounds similar to me because of the way of life in India. The author's initial perspective about the good virtues of Bhutan left me asking - where's all the bad stuff and the bad people? Even in a country so isolated, where radio broadcasting is received with the same gusto as Apple's iPads are in the tech world, and where everyone absolutely loves the king, there should still be the odd person indulging in bad politics or something about this mystic place that feels too ancient. I was rewarded in the second half with all those answers. The author presents a well-written case of why some things had better not be done in Bhutan, and what some changes can mean to the country and the rest of the world.

While I didn't agree with the author on everything, I loved that this was a very honestly written account of what she benefited from Bhutan. She didn't believe in superstitions or prayer rituals to make her life better but if that option was provided to her, she didn't denounce it or jump into it outright - instead she had a very practical response. That practical approach, her candidness and matter-of-fact tone in making any decisions are what make this memoir work very well.

I received this book for free from the publisher via TLC Book Tours.

Fist Stick Knife Gun by Geoffrey Canada

Fist Stick Knife Gun is yet another book on gang violence. I've been lately reading/watching stuff on this topic. It is totally unplanned, mostly coincidental, but I can't help but notice its recurrence. First it was Yummy by G. Neri and then this book. Now, just last night, I watched the movie - Freedom Writers (which by the way is awesome, so it will get its own post).

Fist Stick Knife Gun was illustrated by Jamar Nicholas, based on Geoffrey Canada's memoir by the same title. This is the first time I'm reading a graphic version of a book and I'm kind of mixed about how I feel. Since this is the only so-so aspect I have to say, I want to get that out of the way. I haven't read the original book so I don't have a reference, but I felt the graphic book was too verbose, almost like any regular book. It had the total feel of a graphic novel, but there was a lot of background narration, so it felt wordy to me.

This memoir follows Geoffrey Canada's life in one of the many gang-operated New York streets, and the lifestyle he led in such a climate. It takes a look at the kids who grow up in lawless streets and are forever defined by the crimes that happen around them and the survival tactics they learn there. While reading this book, many times I wondered why the color of the skin is usually enough for many as evidence of crime. And why when such people of color ask for police help, their complaints are treated as trivial.

When the book begins, Geoffrey is a four-year old staying with three other brothers and their mother. Their father wasn't much of a father and walked out of their lives early on. Geoffrey's mother is a strong woman. She never let her kids take any kind of crap from others. Once when someone stole a jacket belonging to one of Geoffrey's brothers, she threatened that he go back and get it. (I did think that was too intimidating and almost like sending a kid to slaughter, but to survive the kind of life the kids were inevitably going to lead, they needed to learn to stand up for themselves.) This ultimatum absolutely terrified the boys but they managed to get the jacket back somehow.

The real test for the kids begins when they all move to a different street. This street has a total different gameplay and power structure. Before anyone is considered a part of the street, he has to fight someone else so that they know their place in the street hierarchy. If they don't fight or do not show any kind of "stand up for themselves" characteristic, they get beaten up. As Geoffrey explains, the town's kids are actually being prepared for the crueler and harsher environments they will face in school and later on, in other streets.

I liked this book better than I expected to. The artwork shows the whole dynamics of street life better than what I gleaned off from any other book. The boys may be tough, violent and unreasonable sometimes, but I didn't, couldn't, look at them as just plain gangs. In fact, although this book provides a really good look at gang life, that phrase never really crossed my mind as I was reading it.

It really is amazing how much such a kid has to go through to survive. Darwin's Survival of the Fittest springs to mind immediately. There's no money in many of the homes there. No police protection, no education or welfare programs - in fact, no one cares about the people there. This could have been some isolated part of the world for all you know. And yet these kids devise their own mechanisms to survive - their own power structure and leaders, their own rules and punishments - in fact, each street is like its own separate country governed primarily by fist-fights, sticks, knives and guns, in that order. 

I borrowed this book from the library.

Stitches by David Small

Stitches is a graphical memoir by David Small, spanning mainly his childhood and teen years. Rather than a full-blown memoir, this book especially focuses on his relationship with his parents and the consequences of many of their actions. David's mother was extremely moody. Her moods could last days or weeks and no one really knew what was bothering her and she never bothered to talk about it either. David's father was a doctor. When David was born with sinus and digestive problems, his father himself prescribed medicines, gave him shots, cranked his neck and took tons of X-rays. This was a very dysfunctional family.

Being a huge book in size, I assumed it would take me a while to get through it. On the contrary, it was a breezy read, but no less intense for that. I love it that this is a book of little words and more pictures. There are dialogues but they are used only where necessary. David Small lets his pictures do the talking and they certainly do it well!

David's mom was obsessed with saving money, so much so that when there are the beginnings of a lump on David's neck, she doesn't rush to get him treatment. Instead she chides him about it insisting that they don't have the money for it. She gets him a preliminary diagnosis, and even when his dad is suddenly the recepient of a huge amount of money, both his parents hurry off to do some shopping. There's no way I can explain that sudden feeling of sadness I got when I saw that even when they do have the means, it is spent on trivial pursuits and not on the health of their son.

David's anger at his parents is well-justified. But in the afterword, he mentions that there's a lot more he learned about his mother since her death. I still wouldn't get her off the hook, but I'm sure many of her actions could be understood better for reasons David does not reveal. As for his father, you get the feeling that he is just a presence in David's life. He doesn't know much about what's happening with him, most of what he knows are through his mother.

There are patches in this book when I didn't get quite as invested in David's story. Sometimes, I wasn't sure where the story was heading, since the cliffhanger comes well after two-thirds of the book. However, I'm sure my opinion will change after I reread this book, which I hope to do soon. There are many dimensions to this book, and to fully appreciate it, a reread is certainly in order. I would however be lying if I said that I wasn't moved. It was a very poignant read and bristling with righteous anger. For a long time, David kept quiet. He didn't fight or argue with his parents, but you could always sense the inevitable boiling point. But what brings about that eventuality is something very shocking - something David had to find out the really hard way.

I borrowed this book from the library.

Review: Everything I Never Wanted to be by Dina Kucera

How often do you complain that you wish life was better? I've thought it every time I get stuck in the doldrums, but I know that it's just a minor blip. What if your whole life is one big never-ending blip? What if you wake up every day only to find that the nightmare of last night is not really over? That pretty much sums up the sentiment expressed in Dina Kucera's memoir, Everything I Never Wanted to be. When I first received this title, I was expecting a depressing read about a family's battle with alcoholism and drug addiction. It doesn't help that the cover conveyed the same impression.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Dina Kucera's life is a mess. I don't think she will mind that I wrote that, because she uses more intense words in the 204 page memoir. When I say mess, I mean, she was an alcoholic, though sober for a few years now. Her husband was a pot-addict, also sober for a few years now. Her mother has Parkinson's, her grandmother was addicted to Xanax. Her three daughters are fighting off various additions - the eldest, Jennifer is both an alcoholic and a drug-addict; her second, April entertained neither until a life trauma sent her to alcohol for relief; the third, Carly, was a heroin addict at age 13. In addition, Dina's grandson, Moses, has cerebral palsy.

Does that sound like a family you would see on greeting card websites or as a success story poster for any kind of organization? I was shocked to read the vices that plagued this family. Carly's drug addiction tore me the most. She used meth to get off heroin and heroin to get off meth. No matter how many rehabs she went to, she kept returning to the drugs. Being a very anti-drug person, it took me some time to understand Carly's obsession. Dina shares with us four letters that Carly wrote. She starts with a letter in which sixteen-year old Carly expresses her desire to die. By the time, we read Carly's third letter, which she wrote at the age of six, the reader is well-versed in Carly's addiction. The innocence of the third letter made me very sad. How did such a girl go to full-blown addiction by the time she was thirteen?

Dina writes her memoir in a tone typical of stand-up comedians. I don't watch many stand-up comedies, I find my grey cells process jokes too slow. As a result, it took me about 50 pages to "accept" Dina's style of writing. It was definitely easy prose, in fact, a very engaging one. After page 50, I found that I didn't want to put the book down at all. But until then, I found her sarcasm too cruel, whether it was directed at herself or her extended family, or her own mom or her husband's twin. It was just her way of narrating the darkness in her life. It was her therapy. Towards the end, she explains that in a life as messed up as her own, humor's the only way she can get through her day. And when you turn page after page and get a feel that her nightmare doesn't seem to near a possible end at all, you understand. Humor becomes your means to navigate through pile after pile of horrors.

That doesn't mean I agreed with her at all times. The author frequently says that no one "gets" it, that only someone who has been through what she has will actually understand her hardships. She rants against the rich people, the other parents (whose children don't do drugs), and anyone who's not a parent. All such people in Dina's life have either offered her unhelpful advice or turned their noses up at her. Hard and traumatic as those experiences have been to her, I feel that generalization is a very dangerous tool. It's the one thing that creates so much bias in the world today. And since I am not a parent myself, I felt offended many times, reading those passages. I'm not even going to begin narrating the what-would-I-do's, I know fully well that many times I've done the opposite of what I've proclaimed. But I don't believe that not being in a situation makes you any less empathetic than you are.

Dina Kucera clearly has a lot of regrets. She has even listed out the terrible mistakes she made as a parent - the kind of mistakes that anyone would go aghast at. But her boldness in admitting them and her intense wish that she could go back and change them feel very honest. Despite my disagreements with her, towards the end, I was rooting so much for her and wishing that the nastier aspects at least mellowed down. For all her mistakes, I think she is one incredible woman for trying to do all she can for her family - even iron out their problems. And did I mention her husband? Although he isn't mentioned too much in this book, I have to say I loved this guy for all he did for his family too. In the end, although the elements explored in this book are tragic, this book is definitely not a depressing read. Instead, what you get is a tremendous amount of hope. Dina writes a very uplifting story amidst and about all the ruins around her. I could take a writing class from her. In addition, it is also a powerful call for help of the drug-addicted teens, who need help not prison to help knock off their habits.

If you wish to buy this book, you can get 30% off at the book's website, by entering the coupon code "Dina" at checkout. If you ask me, I believe that money is well-spent!

I received this book for free from the publisher via TLC Book Tours.

Review: Blankets by Craig Thompson

Ever read a memoir in graphic format? I grew up equating anything with pictures = comics. And I just recently read my first memoir graphic "novel" (something I never believed possible). In fact, I never knew this was a memoir until after reading it. Or maybe I realized it at some point while I was reading, when I noticed that the protagonist was named Craig Thompson - same as the author's name. In all the reviews I've read so far, somehow I never caught that fact.

Blankets is the story of Craig's childhood, teen and early adulthood years. It is so poignant and beautiful, that it's really hard to express it verbally. In fact, I read this book a couple of months ago, but never reviewed it till now, because for the first time, I was at a loss for words. How can pictures capture so much emotion?

Craig didn't have an easy childhood. As with any pair of siblings, there was a lot of rivalry between Craig and his brother. But there was a lot of love and playfulness too. At school, Craig got bullied a lot and once home, he would try to act the boss when he was with his brother, even though he was often racked with guilt at his own actions. How Craig confessed this in the book is really wonderful - flitting between the past and the present. It is very hard for this to work well in pictures, because the author has to make sure that the reader understands that this is a flashback, without being explicit about it. In fact, although the whole story is told chronologically, there are several flashback elements that tie an event to an earlier circumstance.

Craig was always a misfit. This is what caused him to be bullied a lot. In addition, a particularly traumatic episode in his childhood forever affected him. These events led him to be very religious, because he could not understand why he was being bullied. Eventually, he began to feel aimless, and turned to drawing and dreaming to escape reality. Craig's struggles tore at me. He powerfully illustrates how his beliefs flitted from one to the other, how some circumstances influence you so much that you start building different hypotheses to explain them. It was clear that Craig had a lot of regrets. The impressive part was how well I could see that through his drawings.

Over time, he became good at identifying other misfits, and that's how he met Raina, his first love. Even in spite of all the bullying that he regularly endured, Craig always remained himself. He didn't try to impress others or pretend to be someone else, and that was such a powerful message coming from the pages, in this age, where first impressions are so important. Right from the start, you start rooting for the couple. Both Raina and Craig are shy by nature, so it was wonderful seeing the two bond together. While earlier, he was never encouraged much to draw, through his relationship with Raina, he began drawing more.

Through the book, we also see how his faith changes over time. From being blindly devout, to slowly beginning to question beliefs to overtly rejecting certain aspects of it. I've never tracked the progress of my faith with my real-life events, but that's how your faith changes. Seeing how Craig mapped them well made me curious to know how things had been in my life - how the cause and effect circle of life worked.

There are so many moments in Blankets, when you probably will go thinking that this happened to me, or that you totally understand how something feels. There is just so much feeling and emotion in the pages, and it's not even a short graphic book. I think I picked this book to read sometime during my very busy months for a break - instead I got a total book's worth and I didn't even come out of my room for dinner until I finished it. I'm glad I left it so long before reviewing, because I noticed that I am still as WOWed by it as when I finished it. This is one of those books that you really have to read before understanding why everyone is raving about it - even I wondered what the whole hoopla was about.

  

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I borrowed this book from the library.

Review: The Motorcycle Diaries by Che Guevara

Che Guevara has always been a perplexing character to me. During my undergrad years, I have come across people who worshiped him, and several who disliked him. That was pretty much my first introduction to this character. Until last year, when I first saw the movie The Motorcycle Diaries. I absolutely loved it. I didn't know what to make of Che Guevara even then, but I could relate to the beginnings of his humanitarian interest.

Fueled by that impression, I started reading the journal on which the movie is based. There is something about reading journals that feels very raw. It was just as like reading Anne Frank's diary - a collection of daily thoughts jotted down to narrate some particular period in life. On its own, the diary is complete, but someone interested in the later life of Che Guevara will be interested in the implications of the diary records.

The Motorcycle Diaries is Che's account of his journey to explore South America with his friend, Alberto Granado, on an ancient Norton motorcycle. In the prologue, Che's father writes in the prologue,

I didn't realize then that his obsession with traveling was just another part of his zeal for learning. He knew that really to understand the needs of the poor he had to travel the world, not as a tourist stopping to take pretty pictures and enjoy the scenery, but in the way he did, by sharing the human suffering found at every bend in the road and looking for the causes of that misery.

I found the start of the book to be slightly shaky and unsure, but that could be just me getting used to a person's style of writing.

I found I could empathize with Che when he narrated the sufferings of the people he came across. The mindsets of some people were very primitive, especially where leprosy is concerned, but that more or less was the basic belief held by most people across the world. Those suffering from leprosy were usually isolated thanks to the predominant thinking that the disease can be spread by touch. What Che and Alberto tried to do for these people was quite touching. But occasionally, Che falls into the same trap of ridiculing one set of people while focusing on another. I can't say I very much agreed with his line of thought at those points.

Many times, his entries were hilarious as well. Alberto and Che formed a charismatic duo. I liked them in the movie, and enjoyed their company even more in the book. The respect each had for the other was very evident. They were broke most of the time, so they had a string of stories construed to evoke sympathy among the listeners. Sometimes they were lucky to impress their audience enough to earn their lunch or be invited to parties.

Che's transition in his beliefs and the changes in his character are quite evident as we go from the first page to the last. There are stronger and harsher opinions, more analyses of the bias that exist and the stark contrast between the ways of life of the rich and the poor. His criticisms also become more pointed and specific, while his dreams and wishes get a clearer outline. There were times I lost the thread of his thoughts, especially when I was treated to an extensive narration of the history behind a place or people. In the end, I feel that I enjoyed the movie more than the book, but the book gave me a better historical reference than the movie.

  

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I borrowed this book from the library.