Book Report 2

I know I haven't written in a long time. And that I haven't even finished my posts about India. And that I've written almost nothing about what we've done this summer. And that I haven't said how my new job is going. Those posts are coming. Eventually. But for now, I think I can manage a post about the books I've read since April's book report post.

17. The Little Friend by Donna Tartt

I first encountered Donna Tartt's work when I picked up The Secret History at (surprise!) a library book sale back when we were living in Mt. Pleasant. Since The Secret History still reigns as one of my favorite books ever, I thought I would give The Little Friend a try. The book started with so much promise: it seemed to offer insight into one family's struggles to deal with the aftermath of a horrible tragedy (the death of a child); plus, it was set in rural Mississippi in the late 1960's/early 1970's, so there was a lot of compelling cultural context available.

I felt I really got to know the main character, Harriet, and her best friend Hely; I felt like I saw what their summer was like in Mississippi. I appreciated how the plot reflected the mindset and thought processes of a moody adolescent girl desperately trying to understand the horrible thing that happened to her family. Tartt's writing was just as imaginative and captivating as I remembered it on a sentence-by-sentence level; at the same time, though, the book was bulky with detail and description that didn't do much to move the plot along.

There were some suspenseful moments that nearly shivered me out of my skin, but mostly because there were so many snakes in the book. Crates of them. Nests of them. Slithery, bitey, poisonous snakes. I had a few nightmares about snakes and drowning from this one. A book like this might be better as an audiobook on a long drive--provided you aren't driving through Mississippi.

18. Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn

Paul Schramm recommended this one to me, and I am so glad I took his suggestion. It's a clever, quick read that demonstrates the importance of having the means and freedom to communicate. The fictional government of the book outlaws the use of specific letters as they fall off the plinth of a statue, taking their falling as a divine proclamation that the letters should no longer be used. The tale is told in letters and messages between several characters, the content of which become increasingly restricted as more letters fall. It's an allegory for the kind of oppression that seems innocuous or just inconvenient at first but soon escalates beyond reason (think Patriot Act or religious dogma). I enjoyed it immensely, thanks to my resentment at government meddling as well as my love of language.

19.-21. The His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman
(The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass)

I read The Golden Compass soon after the movie was released, so my initial interpretation of the series was skewed by that. I was anticipating an adventure with realistic but supernatural characters, and I thought it would skew slightly younger in the young adult range. The books, however, are deeper and darker than the movie version suggested, which I really appreciated.

I was in middle/high school when this series was released, and I honestly don't know if I could have handled reading them at that time because of my seriously conflicted feelings towards religion. The books enact the kind of serious critique of religious dogma my teenage mind was desperately trying to articulate and sort out. Add some talking animals, witches, inter-dimensional travel, and theoretical physics, and you get a not necessarily fun but definitely compelling series.

22. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown

Yeah, sometimes I need to read predictable and formulaic pulp. I will not apologize for it. I just wish professor Robert Langdon (the Tom Hanks character) didn't like to hear himself talk so much, because seriously: dude likes to lecture. He needs to be part of Pedants Anonymous--except that will never exist, because pedants like you to acknowledge their credentials so much.

There's some suspense. There's a creepy villain. There's dismemberment. There's a secret society. There's a pretty girl with her life in danger. Ho hum. It was good bedtime reading because it doesn't take much brain power.

23. Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster

This is an instance where a book's subtitle really sums up what it's about: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass,Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office. It's a memoir. And even though this woman is supremely bitchy and unlikable, and I found myself reacting out loud every few pages to express disgust with something she had said or done, I still enjoyed it because it was that funny. Some of the humor comes from schadenfreude, it's true, but that's totally excusable in this case. I get so annoyed with ostentatious displays of wealth and people who seriously believe that their money makes them better than everyone else, so it was nice to see one of these women suffer. Although...she got a book published, so I expect things are looking up for her again.

24. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

In the library of my brain, there is a section of required reading for English majors. These shelves are crammed with so-called classics that every self-respecting book nerd or literature lover is supposed to not only have read, but read outside of a classroom setting for pleasure. When I go to this section of my brain, I see disappointment: the English-major staples that I haven't read (Tolstoy and Steinbeck and Joyce), started reading and couldn't finish (Austen), or read all the way through and hated (I've given The Great Gatsby at least five chances and I still hate it).

But To Kill a Mockingbird is on the "You should read this book more often" shelf, because it really is that good. It's rare to find a book that examines race, class, regional culture, family dynamics, and childhood so deftly, and without coming off as sanctimonious or pandering. But it does.

25. and 26. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince  and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

Because sometimes, you need to re-read the Harry Potter books for the millionth time. Usually, I re-read the entire series from start to finish, and I've done that since before the fourth book was released. This means, however, that I've read the first three or four books quite a few times, and the last three only a handful. I watched the last three movies, then read the last two books again, and it actually changed how I felt about the screen version of the series--I felt less cheated by the movies than I had previously done, because I realized that there was no way they could equal what I had built up in my mind from reading the books. Basically, I finally let myself view them as a separate beast altogether.

27. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

The last time I read these books, I was in eighth or ninth grade. My memory had softened the weirdness of the books somewhat, so that in reading them again I was able to be shocked or startled by the behavior of the characters, the way they spoke to each other, and the violence of some of the plot.

28. World War Z byMax Brooks

Really, really good. It didn't focus too much on the zombies, but rather on how the world dealt with the outbreak and aftermath, which I found fascinating.The greatest success of this book was the way the author made it all seem so plausible. From the beginning, you're forced to accept the premise, and through the first-hand accounts, you see it as a global event that happened.

29. Forrest Gump by Winston Groom

One of the rare instances in which I will say the movie is much, much better than the book. Some of the basic plot elements and a few snippets of dialogue are preserved from page to screen, and for good reason: that's all that was worth taking. The Forrest of the book is an aggressive simpleton rather than a guileless one. There's no charm to the book--it's a series of wild stunts rather than an engaging plot. I think what bothered me most was how racist Forrest was, and that the author's point in doing so was totally obvious: it's somewhat okay for Forrest to hold those views because he's an idiot, but what's your excuse?

30. Pigtopia by Kitty Fitzgerald

I bought this from the Carbondale library book sale, mostly because the cover features an illustration of a young girl holding a pig. At first, I was afraid I couldn't get into the book because the narration seemed to be in a broken dialect that took great effort to decode, since I was reading before bed and my brain was already tired. Once I got through the first few chapters, I realized that the narration alternated between two characters: the subliterate pigman Jack Plum, and Holly Lock, the normal but awkward teenage girl he befriends. With some patience, I grew to love reading the Jack Plum chapters because they were almost poetic in the inventiveness of the language. I was conscious of the effort it took Fitzgerald to render Jack's voice, and she did so with unmistakeable style. Had the entire book taken place from Jack's perspective, it would have been a chore to read; Holly's chapters provided breaks but also served as a contrast to the way Jack's mind worked.

31. Stardust, 7-Eleven, Route 57, A&W, and So Forth by Patricia Lear

This was another Carbondale library book sale purchase, and I am sad to say that the title was the best part of this short story collection. The stories were absolutely boring, and not in a way that seemed intentional or for greater effect--it was just that nothing happened in them. I only finished out of stubbornness, so I could tell myself I had read it, given it a fair chance, and was disappointed not because I expected anything great but because I expected anything at all.

I'm glad I only paid 25 cents for the book. Perhaps there was one moment in one story that was worth the price.

32. The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I'm counting this as having been read, even though I listened to it as an audiobook on my Evansville commute. It's a strange book to listen to, driving alone through thick fog between Harrisburg and Eldorado and the long (and sparsely populated) stretch between route 45 and Mt. Vernon, Indiana. The book is so unapologetic, bleak, and lonely. I've long enjoyed post-apocalyptic stories because one of my frequent daydreams involves having the entire world to myself for a few days, a week, a month. What would it be like to be truly alone? Would your mind create noise to fill the absence of all that outer noise that comes from other people?

It was heartbreaking to imagine a young child having a constant awareness of his own mortality, and to imagine a father who's forced to fight for a life that holds little promise. The man and the boy remain nameless throughout the book, which hammered home the truth: that identity is so largely dependent upon belonging to a group and having a relationship with the human world. When that's gone, the self becomes an almost ridiculous idea.

The Road made me rethink my definitions of tragedy and horror. When large numbers of people are killed by disease or disaster, we think of it as a horrific event. We can count the dead and mourn them. It would seem that a global disease pandemic or large-scale environmental catastrophe or nuclear disaster would be the ultimate tragedy, but The Road proves otherwise: that the real horror could be surviving the event, left to figure out a reason for living when civilization is just a memory. The book was definitely worth the horrible nightmares I had.

33. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

Before I started reading this, I knew the basics: a 14-year-old girl is murdered; one of her suburban neighbors is a suspect; it takes place in the 1970s. All this I learned from seeing the trailer for the movie adaptation of the book a few years ago. What I missed, however, was the central idea that the the victim, Susie Salmon, is telling her story from her version of "heaven." I was instantly skeptical about how much I would enjoy reading it, based on the plot and the premise, because this could have gone horribly wrong. Instead, I found myself mostly buying into it. Sure, there are some cringe-inducing moments (particularly in how Susie's presence is made known among the living at times). I'd say I was engaged with the narrative 80% of the time, for the first 80% of the book. The last bit, however, went everywhere I hoped it wouldn't and became a bit too sentimental.

I am curious about how the movie version handles some aspects of the book, though, because it seems so internal, which doesn't always translate without a voice-over (and that often seems like a cop-out).

Be Prepared (or, When Boy Scouts Go to India) Part 2

Thankfully, and for the sake of Aaron's sanity, there were some aspects of planning and preproduction that we did together, like a dysfunctional team. Like dyslexic synchronized swimmers who are highly allergic to chlorine (no offense to the dyslexic, synchronized swimming, and those with allergies). I was just happy that sometimes Aaron was able to fall asleep at night without an incessant commentary about all things associated with INDIA (which became a capitalized, four-letter word in blazing, buzzing neon quite quickly). It's not that we were ungrateful for the opportunity--it's that we didn't always know what we had signed up for, and sometimes the surprises were a little unpleasant, and usually expensive.

Script

We had our first face-to-face preproduction meeting at CMU in August 2011, where I finally met Rob Hassen, CMU's coordinator of graduate recruiting. Aaron had worked with him in 2008 on a recruiting video for CMU that apparently got really good results for the university, which is how Aaron got the India opportunity. We also met Kundana, an Indian student (and now an alumna!) of CMU's MSA program. Through a few days of meetings, we discussed the purpose of the video and came up with a rough outline of the content. Rob was our subject-matter expert, and Kundana was our uncompensated actress.

Through e-mails, online collaboration tools (thank you, Adobe), phone calls, messages, and more e-mails, Rob got us a working script that we then edited, line by line, in another face-to-face meeting in December. Aaron developed a shooting script with all of the visuals so that we would know what needed to be shot, when, where, and how. I helped when I could, making some use of all those years as an English major as well as the few film classes I've taken (thanks to Tracy Cox, Patty Williamson, and Anthony Williams--all wonderful professors).

When we were finished, we had a 28-page shot-for-shot and line-by-line plan, which was somehow a source of both relief and terror. "Oh, this is what we're doing. That's nice." But also: "Oh, wow, THIS is what we're doing? Can we do this?" I was the doubter, of course, because I worry like it's a sport.

Medical

Having traveled very little outside the U.S., Aaron and I had only heard tales of horror, supplied by helpful friends, regarding what would happen to our bodies once we landed in India. We knew the cliche warnings: Don't drink the water. Get vaccinated. Bring an arsenal of remedies for all things gastrointestinal. And, the worst one: You're going to get sick, no matter what. Except when you're traveling to the other side of the world for work, getting sick isn't an option.

We scoured the U.S. State Department and CDC websites for tips and some of idea of what to expect, and got the somewhat puzzling advice to see a "travel doctor," which both travel agencies and medical professionals in southern Illinois think is a made-up term, right up there with Obamacare and Lady Gaga. We called various doctor's offices and health departments, only to be referred, again and again, to SIUC's student health center for a travel consultation.

Had we been current SIUC students, this would have been more affordable. As it was, the lady cut us a break since she was meeting with us together, charging Aaron for a full session and me for a half-session. Rejoice, my frugal heart. We sat in a little room, filled out our complete medical histories, shared our Bay County Health Department vaccination record books, and let the scare-fest begin.

Most of the information she gave us was a repeat of what we had seen on various government websites, but this medical practitioner described diseases in bone-chilling, graphic detail and with accompanying printouts. Dengue fever? Yeah, there's no vaccination for that one. And it sucks. There were tales of biting and burrowing insects; warnings about bites from rabid bats, dogs, and monkeys (which we knew we might encounter, given our plans); admonitions about vaccinations for typhoid, polio, measles, hepatitis, tuberculosis, and tetanus; dire warnings against tap water, even if used for rinsing fruits/vegetables or brushing your teeth; and a reminder about avian flu--we scoffed at her advice to stay away from places where live poultry was being caged, processed or otherwise handled, but this was a rule we ended up breaking on our last day (foreshadowing! Exciting, I know!). I felt all of the symptoms as she described them, like my own roller coaster of sick.

And then I acknowledged that, contrary to my nature, I would have to make a promise that I would not, under any circumstances, touch any animals while in India. I would not seek out stray dogs or cats. I would not pet the cows. I would not startle the bats or get too close to the monkeys (it turns out that was more up to them than up to me, because those suckers were FAST). I would not, as I normally tend to do, treat any animal in sight as my own personal petting zoo. It was a matter of life or death! I told Aaron that he had to make me promise, and to remind me during our trip if it looked like I was about to reach out and get friendly with living things.

We also got two prescriptions each: one for antimalarial pills and one to treat traveler's diarrhea, which was described as "you'll definitely know it if you have it." The choices for antimalarials are almost comical. The one that is quite effective and low on side effects also happens to cost around $6/pill (and we would need a total of 40 between the two of us). The other option, which had a long list of unpleasant side effects including severe nausea, yeast infections, and photosensitivity, only cost about $.30/pill but had to be taken for much longer. We opted for the generic form of the expensive one, which the Marion Walgreens had to special order but which would have cost almost double at CVS.

After our travel consultation, where we found out the atrocious prices SIUC charges non-students for vaccinations, we called the Jackson County Health Department for their price list. It was cheaper. And then, like the consummate bargain-hunter I've been all my life, I suggested we call yet another health department, which was even cheaper. We made an appointment to get all of our vaccinations and boosters on the same day, which I only recommend for the truly masochistic, since the aftermath of getting 4-5 shots at once is feeling feverish, achy and generally crappy for a few days. But it brought us one step closer to being ready for the promised microbial onslaught.

Yup, that's some Pinconning cheese. Oh, and some typhoid. No big deal.

 

Together, we assembled a massive toiletry/first-aid/death prevention kit for the greatest possible chance that we would remain physically functional for the duration of our stay in India. We based our gathering on the summation of recommendations from anecdotal and professional sources alike. Here's some of what we packed, between our hand baggage, in our quart-size clear zippered bags for gels/liquids, and in our checked luggage:

• Hand sanitizer gel
• 100% DEET mosquito repellent
• Sunscreen in both SPF 50 and SPF 30
• SPF 15 lip balm
• Baby powder (since the expected average daily temperature was between 75 and 90 degrees F, and Jude was kind enough to warn me about what that's like.)
• Gatorade packets for mixing with bottled water for the inevitable dehydration
• Delicious snacks that also traveled well: canned chicken and tuna, raisins, toaster pastries, granola and trailmix bars, since we had no idea how our bodies would respond to Indian food
• Bottled water (Yes. We brought bottled water, JUST IN CASE)
• Bandages
• A manicure set that included tweezers, scissors, etc.
• Eyedrops
• Over-the-counter drugs: aspirin, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, naproxen sodium, sleep aids
• Facial tissues in travel packs
• Earplugs
• Chewing gum
• Hiking boots, long socks, and long-sleeved shirts

We ended up using/needing* most of these things. But that still didn't prevent a late-night trip to a pharmacy for me (More ominous foreshadowing! Dun dun dun...!).


*I have to qualify that term after experiencing India, for reasons which will become apparent in subsequent posts.