The Hummingbird's Daughter

Luis Alberto Urrea

In The Hummingbird’s Daughter, Luis Alberto Urrea tells the story of his great aunt Teresa, known as St. Teresa, the “Mexican Joan of Arc.”   

Urrea chronicles the life of Teresa from the time of her birth as the illegitimate child of a young girl named “Hummingbird” and a wealthy Mexican rancher, Don Tomás Urrea. Abandoned by her mother, Teresa is initially raised by an abusive aunt and later taken under the wing of Huila, a respected medicine woman and healer.   

Teresa becomes Huila’s apprentice, developing healing powers and visions that eventually exceed those of her teacher. Her reputation spreads rapidly among the indigenous population, the poor, and the outcasts, all of whom flock to her side seeking blessings and healing. Her teachings of equality and justice threaten both the government and the church, eventually inspiring the Mexican revolution. Perceived as a danger to the establishment, she is captured and sent into exile in North America.   

This is a powerful story, powerfully told. Urrea has the skill of a master storyteller who underscores the irony and humor and cruelty found in life, describing all with unflinching honesty. He does not shy from describing the horrors, the filth, the stench, and the unimaginable brutalities human beings are capable of inflicting on each other in their pursuit of power. He also illustrates the sensitivity, generosity, and tenderness of people struggling to survive in a harsh political and natural environment. Peppered throughout the narrative are instances of magical realism—strange, inexplicable happenings; dream journeys; mysterious healings made with the touch of a hand; a girl who comes back to life just as preparations are being made for her funeral.    

Urrea skillfully immerses us in a different time, a different place. He breathes life into a panoramic landscape by flooding our senses with the sights, sounds, touch, and smells of humans, animals, and foliage populating the environment. His characters are well-rounded, recognizable human beings. Teresa is a compassionate, courageous, lively, vulnerable, and loving young girl, capable of enjoying life with gusto and of embracing all people regardless of—or maybe because of—their foibles, failings, and suffering. Tomás, her father, is a religious skeptic with a generosity of spirit and an ability to love unconditionally. And Huila is the no-nonsense crotchety old wise woman who recognizes Teresa’s true potential and teaches her to cultivate it.   

The Hummingbird’s Daughter is a masterpiece, vast in scope with vivid characters and a story line that grips the reader from the first page to the last.   

Highly recommended.

The Whale Road

Robert Low

Robert Low’s The Whale Road takes us back to over a thousand years ago to experience life as a Viking raider through the voice of young Orm Rurikson.  Orm becomes a member of the Oathsworn, the crew of a Viking raiding ship. The Oathsworn derive their name from an oath to Odin that binds them together in brotherhood. They are hired as relic-hunters. Through the many twists and turns of the plot, they eventually end up seeking the buried treasure of Attila the Hun. 

Low firmly thrusts the reader in a man’s world. With one notable exception, women are treated as incidentals, there for the taking. The novel is replete with crashing shields, slashing swords, clanging metal, whizzing arrows, dismembered body parts, obscenities, foul smells, graphic descriptions of bodily functions, breast-thumping machismo, swinging axes, gushing blood, and fierce hand-to-hand combat.

The writing is fast-paced and vigorous—sometimes a little too fast because it was difficult at times to know what was happening and who was fighting whom. The confusion is compounded by the plethora of Nordic characters, some of whom are mentioned in a few lines or a few pages only to disappear entirely from the novel. The first few chapters are especially bewildering with their convoluted story line and flashbacks. The writing is a little choppy, but one eventually gets caught up in the rhythm of the book and gallops along with the events.

References to Norse mythology and the conflict with the “White Christ” abound. And punctuated throughout the blood and gore are moments of surprising humor. The Oathsworn tease each other mercilessly, engaging in friendly put-downs and snappy barbs that are funny.

As the narrator of events, Orm Rurikson is unflinchingly honest. He describes the battlefield as a grim and bloody killing fest, one that bears no relationship to the heroic battle descriptions in the sagas of Norse culture. Brotherhood oaths and shield walls notwithstanding, Orm recognizes survival on the battlefield may have as much to do with luck as skill.

With its vivid, gritty, and visceral descriptions, this is not a novel for the faint-hearted or for those seeking novels about polite society. But if you’re looking for an action-packed, entertaining story, a compelling page-turner that grips you into the grisly warp and weft of a Viking raider’s life, then this is a book for you.

Recommended.

Hatchepsut: The Female Pharaoh

Joyce Tyldesley

Hatchepsut by Joyce Tyldesley is a documented research on the life of Hatchepsut, the female pharaoh of the 18th Dynasty. Tyldesley pieces together the available historical and archaeological evidence to detail the life and times of Hatchepsut. Unfortunately, there is much that has been lost to us as a result of tomb robbers, the pillaging of Egypt’s antiquities, and the systematic attempts to erase all evidence of Hatchepsut’s rule shortly after her demise.     

Tyldesley’s scholarly approach to the subject is to be commended. She does not attempt to sensationalize the issue of a female pharaoh. She presents the known facts methodically; dispels the theory of mutual animosity existing between Hatchepsut and her step-son, Tuthmosis III; situates Hatchepsut’s rise to power within its historical context; provides alternative scholarly interpretations to events when relevant; and then suggests the path that seems the most logical. What emerges is a fascinating portrait of a powerful female who assumed the position of pharaoh after the death of her half brother/husband, Tuthmosis II.     

Hatchepsut went to extraordinary lengths to present herself as a viable, legitimate pharaoh. She wore male clothing, including a pharaoh’s false beard, and, among other things, ordered a sequence of images of her own divine conception and birth be carved in a portico in her mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahri. Since all kings of Egypt had wives, Hatchepsut selected her daughter, Neferure, to assume the role of the king’s wife, assigning her its duties.     

Tyldesley highlights Hatchepsut’s military exploits, her expeditions to foreign lands, including Punt, and her instigation of an impressive construction program of monuments and mortuary temples. Egypt experienced a time of prosperity and peace under her rule. She relied heavily on her advisor, Senenmut, for a number of years. But for reasons we can only speculate, Senenmut eventually fell out of favor with her.    

Shortly after her death and the ascension of Tuthmosis III as Pharaoh, systematic attempts were made to erase all evidence of Hatchepsut’s reign, including effacing her monuments and wall carvings on mortuary temples. This was tantamount to an attempt to erase her from history and to subject her spirit to a “Second Death” from which there could be no return. Although some scholars speculate that Tuthmosis III was avenging himself on his stepmother for usurping his right to throne, Tyldesley argues the evidence for this is inconclusive.     

We may never know all there is to know about Hatchepsut. But Joyce Tyldesley has produced an engaging, readable, scholarly work based on the available evidence about this female pharaoh. In the process, she has given us a glimpse of a fascinating woman living in fascinating times.   

Highly recommended.

Mayan Folktales: Folklore From Lake Atitlan, Guatemala

James D. Sexton

Mayan Folktales: Folklore from Lake Atitlan, Guatemala translated and edited by James D. Sexton is a collection of folktales obtained in collaboration with Ignacio, a Guatemalan Indian whom Sexton met in 1970. Ignacio’s good relationship with the elderly in his village was invaluable in encouraging them to open up to him and to share their stories, stories that had been transmitted orally for centuries.

The 34 folktales in the collection are diverse. Some are for entertainment purposes only while others are for edification. Through these folktales, we learn about Mayan cultural values: the social obligations toward others; maintaining the proper attitude while participating in religious ceremonies and festivals; the gendered division of labor; the importance of sharing and compassion; the virtue of hard work; the proper way to grow crops; and respect for the environment. There is also a story of creation, which includes a modified version of the fall of first man and first woman.

The stories are populated with talking animals, humans transformed into animals and animals into humans, kettles and pans complaining about their burnt bottoms, talking beans and corn, tricksters and shamans, dragons and giants, and priests whose behavior is decidedly unpriestly. Some of the stories are funny; some are bawdy; some are edifying; but all are entertaining.

Recommended.

Complaints and Disorders: The Sexual Politics of Sickness

Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English

Complaints and Disorders: The Sexual Politics of Sickness by Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, their sequel to Witches, Midwives, and Nurses: A History of Women Healers, documents the role of the medical system in propagating and fueling sexist ideology. The authors argue it is not biology that oppresses women; it is a social system based on sex and class discrimination.    

Focusing on the late 19th and early 20th century, Ehrenreich and English cite one example after another of the barbaric “cures” women received for the ostensible purpose of healing them. These range from the compulsory “rest cure” made famous in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper to the placement of leeches on the cervix to combat amenorrhea.    

The authors discuss the impact of race and class on women’s health. Upper class and middle class women aspiring to the upper class were perceived as weak, sickly, and frail. They were prescribed a life of enforced leisure with little to no physical activity. Their confinement to the home coupled with unmitigated boredom led to the cult known as “female invalidism” or hypochondria—a condition made even worse by the rest cure. The male dominated medical profession fueled this myth of female frailty since it served the financial interests of the physician to do so.    

By contrast, working class and immigrant women, living in urban slums and exposed to hazardous working conditions, were perceived as breeders of germs and disease. They certainly did not have the luxury to indulge themselves in a rest cure or take advantage of medical care since that was virtually non-existent for the poor. Fear of the spread of disease, especially VD in the case of prostitutes, eventually spurred the growth of the public health movement and the birth control movement, both of which were aimed the reducing the risk of contagious diseases and curbing the population growth of the working class and immigrants.    

The authors conclude their study by discussing the changes that have taken place since the 19th and early 20th centuries in the medical profession’s treatment of women. They urge women to educate themselves on their bodies and to recognize their biological similarities with all women while acknowledging the medical needs of women will vary based on race and class.  

An essential read for those interested in the use of medicine as a form of social control whose purpose is to bolster a sexist ideology. 

Witches, Midwives, and Nurses: A History of Women Healers

Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English

Witches, Midwives, and Nurses: A History of Women Healers by Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English traces the systematic and systemic persecution of women as healers beginning with the witch-hunt craze of the 14th through 17th centuries up to the early 20th Century. As Ehrenreich and English demonstrate, women have always been healers, primarily healers of women and the poor. But their journey has been fraught with peril. For over five centuries they faced a systematic, two-pronged attack on their vocation: first from the church and then from the male-dominated medical profession. 

The number of women in Europe who were tortured, burned at the stake, or executed by the Protestant and Catholic churches over a period of three centuries is staggering. By some estimates it is in the millions. These women were accused of any number of crimes: consorting with the devil; committing sexual crimes against men (including causing male impotency and making their penises “disappear”); committing murder; distributing poison. They were even persecuted for using their knowledge of human anatomy and medicinal herbs and remedies to heal and help the sick! As Ehrenreich and English point out, there has not been a consistent justification for shunting women from healing roles.

As we moved toward the 20th Century, the establishment of medicine as a profession requiring university training further diminished the role of women as healers since women were denied access to university. Forced out of the role of healers, women adopted the supporting role of nurses. As such, they manifested the “wifely virtue of absolute obedience” to the doctor, and the “selfless devotion of a mother” to the patient.  

Even though the situation for women in the medical profession has improved since its publication (the 1970s), Witches, Midwives, and Nurses: A History of Women Healers is still well worth reading because it illuminates how two powerful forces systematically and consistently colluded for many centuries in ejecting women from their role as healers and replacing them with male physicians.  

Highly recommended.

Lyrics Alley

Leila Aboulela

Through its intersecting story lines, Lyrics Alley by Leila Aboulela portrays the Abuzeid dynasty in 1950s Sudan. Set against the backdrop of turbulent political times, Mahmoud Bey, the patriarch, navigates between clashing forces both in his public and private life: the indigenous population’s collision with British rule as it strives for independence; Waheeba, his Sudanese first wife steeped in the traditions of her culture versus his second wife Nabilah, a younger and more progressive Egyptian woman; his brother and business partner, Idris, who displays a staunch opposition to his daughter’s intellectual growth; his oldest son, Nassir, who has shown little aptitude for carrying on the family business while his second son and more promising heir, Nur, is unable to fulfill the promise because a swimming accident renders him paralyzed from the neck down. Nur eventually fulfills his dream of becoming a successful poet, his character inspired by the life of the author’s uncle Hassan Awad Aboulela.   

This is a novel about transitions—about the growing pains involved in moving from a traditional culture to one that is more progressive, especially as it pertains to the lives of young girls and women. It is also about love: Nur’s love for his cousin Soraya and his ultimate recognition he has to release her to live her life; Waheeba’s unconditional love for her son, Nur; the devout Ustaz Badr’s love for his family; Nassir’s love for his brother; and Mahmoud Bey trying to do right by everyone.  

The characters are movingly portrayed, especially Nur’s frustration as he struggles to come to terms with his disability and his distaste at being totally dependent on others for his personal hygiene; the gentle compassion with which Ustaz Badr treats his father; and Soraya’s struggle as she tries to define herself and her role in the new Sudan. 

Leila Aboulela’s development as a novelist is evident as Lyrics Alley is not as strong as her later novel, The Kindness of Enemies. It is, nevertheless, an engaging read and highly recommended.

The School of Essential Ingredients

Erica Bauermeister

Erica Bauermeister’s The School of Essential Ingredients is a warm, light-hearted novel about a motley crew of strangers who come together for a cooking class on Monday evenings at Lillian’s restaurant. Among them is Claire, a young mother struggling to find herself in a haze of toddlers and diapers; an elderly married couple; an attractive Italian woman with bubbling energy; a man still grieving over the loss of his wife; a computer engineer with a discerning palate for herbs and spices; a young girl who manifests her low self esteem by being clumsy and awkward; and an elderly lady with bouts of dementia. They enter Lillian’s restaurant as strangers. With gentle nudges from an unrealistically omniscient Lillian who seems to know exactly which culinary masterpiece is needed for the occasion, the strangers become acquainted with each other, emerging at the end of the cooking class with souls that have been healed, lives that have been restored, and friendships that have been forged. 

The novel is a quick and easy read. It suffers somewhat from its predictability, its lack of depth, and its abundance of sentimentality. But if you’re looking for a “feel good” novel that restores your faith in humanity while stimulating your taste buds, you can’t go wrong with this.

The Hakawati

Rabih Alameddine

The Hakawati (Arabic for storyteller) by Rabih Alameddine appropriately begins with the word “Listen” and ends with the word “Listen.” These two words form a circle encapsulating an enchanting world of stories within stories within stories told by a gifted storyteller who knows how to attract and sustain his audience’s attention. 

The main narrative is of Osama al-Kharrat who returns to Beirut in 2003 after an absence of many years to see his dying father. Within that narrative are flashbacks of Osama’s childhood; stories he heard from his grandfather, including circumstances surrounding his grandfather’s birth and family history; and fragmented memories of life in Lebanon before the civil war that decimated the country. We meet Osama’s large extended family and hear their stories as they visit the dying man in the hospital.

Woven within this main narrative is a rich tapestry of stories primarily taken from Islamic and Jewish texts, Arab literature, and Arab folklore. The characters and events populating these stories have been re-imagined in entertaining and inventive ways. We encounter demons and djinns, sit in the presence of august emirs and sultans, experience magic carpet rides, witness battles and conquests, visit the underworld, receive an education on pigeon wars, listen to rhapsodies of romantic love, learn of magic potions, and observe as dismembered bodies of loved ones are carefully reassembled and retrieved from the dead.  

Alameddine skillfully weaves myths, fables, tall tales, legends, stories within stories, short digressions, long digressions, wit, sarcasm, laugh out loud humor, twists and turns, and anything else imaginable into the backdrop of a Lebanon recovering from a devastating civil war and a prominent family that survived it. He has earned the title of being a true Hakawati—a master storyteller who seduces his listeners to join him on a boisterous, rollicking journey that captivates from the first “Listen” to the last.

Highly recommended.

Fasting, Feasting

Anita Desai

A finalist for the Booker Prize in 1999, Anita Desai’s Fasting, Feasting is divided into two parts. Part 1 takes place in India with a family of five: a father, mother, two daughters, and one son. Part 2 takes place in America with a family of four: a father, mother, son, and daughter. The connecting thread is Arun, the long-awaited for son of the Indian family who goes to Massachusetts to study and spends a summer with the American family. Although worlds apart, the two families have in common a patriarchal family structure with an inflexible hierarchy that goes unchallenged, one that forces its members into rigidly defined roles. In both cultures, women are the primary victims whether they are married or single, young or old. 

Part 1 is seen through the eyes of Uma, the eldest daughter of the Indian family. She suffers from epilepsy and myopia—both of which are trivialized by her family and treated as inconveniences. She remains unmarried and lives with her parents who run her ragged with their constant demands. Uma complains but is ultimately complicit in her subordination. She has little choice. Uneducated, single, unemployed, she is totally reliant on her parents for survival.   

Desai takes us to America in Part 2 where we meet the Patton family. We see them through the eyes of Arun who is shocked to recognize some of the same patterns he witnessed in his own family. In Mrs. Patton he sees similarities with his own mother. Both constantly defer to their husbands and are reluctant to assert themselves. On those rare occasions when either woman expresses her views, her husband ignores her. Melanie, the Patton daughter, is bulimic. In her angry, contorted face, Arun recognizes the same expression worn by his sister Uma whose needs have been similarly misunderstood, ignored, and neglected.

Desai uses food as metaphor (the fasting and feasting of the title) to compare and contrast the two families. In one culture, food is used as a vehicle to express communion; in the other, it is used to express isolation. In India the sharing of meals assumes almost ritualistic importance. The family is drawn together for their meals even though communication falters and all are there to cater to the father. Food is a frequent topic of discussion: when to cook, what to cook, what food to offer guests, and who should or should not be invited to share a meal. By contrast, the Patton family has a problematic attitude toward food. The mother stuffs the freezer and refrigerator with food even though what is already there hasn’t been eaten. The father grills steaks that no one else wants to eat. The daughter gorges on peanuts and candy only to vomit everything out a few minutes later. The son forages for leftover meat on the implements used for grilling. And the family never sits together for a meal. They eat in isolation.

Desai is a keen observer of human behavior. Her characters come to life within the first few pages. They are revealed through intricate details—gestures, facial expressions, words said, and words left unsaid. Desai shows rather than tells. In Part 1, for example, there is a wonderful scene where the Indian family sits at the dinner table. Having finished the main meal, the father waits with a “sphinx like” expression. The mother takes it as her cue to peel him an orange. She meticulously removes the pips and places slice by slice carefully on the father’s plate. The father then lifts each slice, placing it ceremoniously in his mouth. Everyone watches in deafening silence at this amazing feat. When he finishes, mother sits back, flushed with pride at her achievement while father maintains his stony-faced silence without so much as a nod of appreciation. This scene speaks volumes.

Unfortunately, the novel ends abruptly, lacking in closure. We are told Arun leaves the Patton household to return to the dorms at the start of a new semester. We hear no more about his family. In spite of an ending that falls short, however, Desai’s skill at characterization through telling description is impressive and makes the novel well worth reading.

The King Must Die

Mary Renault

The King Must Die by Mary Renault is a re-telling of the Greek myth of Theseus. Renault begins with Theseus’ early childhood and concludes with his killing of the Minotaur in Crete.

Although Renault does an admirable job of fleshing out the historical setting and situating the myth in a realistic, historical context, her story-telling abilities did not live up to expectations. The first part of the novel was flat and plodding. The pace did pick up with Theseus’ arrival in Crete with the descriptions of life in the Bull Court, the Bull Dance, the earthquake, and the killing of the Minotaur.

The novel suffered from two main problems. The first lies in Renault’s writing style. Some of her sentences were unnecessarily cumbersome, wordy, and convoluted. The book was first published in 1958, so the muddled syntax may be attributed to its date of publication since writing styles have changed since then. However, books published even a few centuries before this did not suffer from the same problem. See, for example, the following sentence:

“All this I saw before he deigned to look at me; this and the way he stood; like a painting done on a wall of a princely victor, whom words do not touch, nor time and change, nor tears, nor anger; but he will stand so in his ease and pride, uncaring, till war or earthquake shakes down the wall.”

The same message could have been conveyed clearly, concisely, and without all that extra verbiage and pretentious language. And then there were sentences that left one scratching one’s head:

“If a man could prevent knowledge before he has it, I would not have known.”

The second problem lies in the handling of Theseus as the first person point of view narrator. The issue is not because Theseus exhibits an over-sexed masculinity and is a misogynist since that is probably an accurate reflection of the male culture of the time. It isn’t even because he is an unreliable narrator since unreliable narrators can reveal the inner workings of their minds in a manner that engages the reader and sustains our attention. It’s just that Theseus was not an interesting or engaging character. He was flat out boring.

Reynault’s lackluster portrayal of Theseus coupled with her writing style of unnecessarily convoluted syntax and unorthodox use of punctuation for no apparent reason detracted from what would otherwise have been an interesting re-telling of the myth.

Slaying the Mermaid: Women and the Culture of Sacrifice

Stephanie Golden

Slaying the Mermaid: Women and the Culture of Sacrifice by Stephanie Golden explores the issue of why so many women are willing to cater to the needs of others even at the expense of sacrificing their personal happiness, psychic health, and physical well-being. Using Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid as metaphor, Golden compares the behaviors of historical and contemporary women to the mermaid’s willingness to mutilate her body, lose her voice, and endure pain all because of a distorted sense of devotion to another person(s), an ideal, or a cause.

Golden weaves interviews of contemporary women with examples of the behaviors of historical women and with the research of prominent past and present historians, sociologists, psychiatrists, and physicians. Her well-documented research explores the religious and cultural roots of sacrifice and the unequal distribution of the burden placed on women to endure physical and psychological pain for the benefit of others. Women’s conditioning has been so ingrained that many women harbor feelings of guilt if they articulate their personal needs and/or insist on having them addressed. This results in women de-selfing, losing their identity, abandoning their dreams and aspirations, and assuming the guise of victim and/or martyr—a guise which relieves them of personal responsibility. They starve themselves both literally (as in the case of anorexics) and metaphorically from a sense of guilt and need for affirmation.

Golden argues that sacrifice in and of itself is not a bad thing. Sacrifice should be an exercise of conscious, mindful choice. It can and should be constructive, fulfilling, self-enhancing, mutually empowering, and nurturing of oneself as well as of those we serve. Problems arise when sacrifice is stripped of these qualities and, instead, entails self-defeating behaviors, a loss of voice and agency, a willingness to endure ill health and pain, and the surrender of control over one’s life.

Golden’s shuffling between different interview subjects was confusing at times and the central argument became repetitive. In spite of that, however, Slaying the Mermaid has considerable merit. The research is well-documented, all-encompassing, and considers how the intersections of race and class impact the gendered manifestations of sacrifice. Ample concrete examples from the lives of women buttress the claims.

But perhaps more importantly, the study spurs us to examine the motives behind our own sacrifices: Are our sacrifices made by choice? Or are they the result of years of a socialization that promotes the ideal of true womanhood as consisting of self-denial and a willingness to embrace physical and psychological pain in the service of others?

Slaying the Mermaid prompts us to interrogate our own motives. And as such, it provides a valuable service that makes it well worth reading.

The Handmaid's Tale

Margaret Atwood

In Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, the Handmaid Offred recounts in chilling detail the horrors of life in the fictitious Republic of Gilead. Offred’s unflinching lens in describing the circumstances of her life is thrown in stark contrast with her memories of how life used to be.

A taste of Gilead’s state sponsored practices: censorship, exploitation of women as baby-making machines, public display of corpses dangling from ropes, book-banning, control of women’s reproductive organs, secrecy, selective enforcement of rules, black vans that swoop in and “disappear” people, a climate of fear and distrust, road blocks, security checkpoints, confinement, clothing as markers of status, stripping of personal identity, othering, separation of families, discrimination based on race and/or ethnicity, banning the written word, armed militias roaming the streets, corruption and debauchery of officials, public executions, prohibition of birth control and abortion, torture, informants within one’s sex/caste/race/religion, control of the media, and enforcement of religious extremism. All these acts are committed in the name of security and for “the public good.”

While it may be easy to dismiss events in this book as a work of fiction, and/or as the creative imagination of a gifted writer, and while it may be easy to reassure oneself this can never happen in the real world, the truth of the matter is that it is happening. At one time or another, in one corner of the world or another, many such atrocities have been and still are being perpetrated on innocent people.

Margaret Atwood’s brilliant novel serves as an uncompromising reminder to men and women to remain vigilant in opposing every creeping infringement on our rights as human beings no matter how innocuous these infringements might initially appear to be. We need to be particularly vigilant if these infringements come under the guise of safeguarding our security. As we saw in The Handmaid’s Tale, it was by utilizing those very tactics that the Republic of Gilead managed to get a stranglehold on its population.

Highly recommended

The Locust and the Bird: My Mother's Story

Hanan Al-Shaykh

In The Locust and the Bird: My Mother's Story, the contemporary Arab author Hanan Al-Shaykh writes the biography of Kamila, her mother. Al-Shaykh tells the story of her mother’s childhood in 1930s Lebanon, her forced marriage at the age of 14, her illicit love affair with the man who later became her second husband, her divorce from her first husband, her second marriage, her widowhood and its aftermath. The narrative construction is unusual in that Al-Shaykh tells her mother’s story from her mother’s point of view, through her mother’s voice.

We experience the Arab world through Kamila’s lens. She is a child forced into a marriage with her much older brother-in-law after the death of his first wife. Although she is defiant and resourceful, she is also immature. She never seems to grow up or to assume the responsibilities of an adult—even after giving birth to seven children. Denied access to schooling, she remains illiterate all her life. Her knowledge of the world and how it operates is influenced by what she sees on the movie screen. She confuses the real world with the glitz of Egyptian movies and the lives of Egyptian movie stars. Struggling with debt after the death of her second husband, Kamila does what she has been doing all her life: she relies on her good looks and charm to get her through her difficulties.

In her later years, Kamila comes to regret the choices she made in life, including abandoning her two oldest daughters in order to be with the man she loves. But in spite of her remorse, she does not come across as a sympathetic or endearing character. She is self-absorbed, selfish, and has no qualms about using people—especially her children—to achieve her goals.

Because Kamila is illiterate, she has to rely on those around her to shape her worldview. As a consequence, she espouses a narrow worldview with very limited options. It is not surprising she is incompetent when it comes to managing a budget, running a household, or raising children. She has never been taught. And what female role models she does have were denied the same opportunities, rendering them equally incompetent.

Kamila’s tragedy lies in the fact she is never allowed to reach her potential. She has a romantic spirit that longs to soar. She loves the language of poetry, composing poems and committing them to memory but unable to write them down. Her family insists on keeping her illiterate, a situation she regrets all of her life. Forced into an unwanted marriage to a man nearly two decades her senior, castigated as a fallen women when she finally divorces him and marries the man she loves, she spends most of her adult years pregnant with one child after another. There is little room for individual growth or development under such challenging circumstances. But Kamila has the last word when she convinces her daughter to put pen to paper and write her life story.

Unfortunately, Al-Shaykh’s biography of her mother rambles, its prose simplistic and choppy. It reads like a diary—a series of unfocused, disconnected, episodic events that lack coherence or an organizational plan. But the book does have value in that it illustrates the deleterious impact on women when society denies them choice and opportunity for growth and development.

Throughout history, different cultures have oppressed girls and severely constrained their mobility and intellectual development. Whether they were kept barefoot, ignorant, or pregnant; subjected to the horrors of female infanticide, foot binding, or genital mutilation; bartered or sold off to an early marriage or prostitution, girls and women have historically been treated as pawns to be used and abused for the economic benefit of their families.

Kamila is no exception. Her childhood, upbringing, and experience severely hamper the range of possibilities available to her as a young girl growing up in that environment at that time and in that place. Unfortunately, many young girls throughout the world continue to experience the same harsh restraints—restraints that deprive them of the ability to thrive and flourish. As such, The Locust and the Bird serves as a cautionary tale of wasted potential and thwarted aspirations.

The Snow Child

Eowyn Ivey

Based on an old Russian fairy tale, The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey is a beautiful story about Mabel and Jack, a childless elderly couple living on a farm in Alaska, and the young, mysterious snow child they come to love and adopt as their own.

The story unfolds slowly and quietly with a decidedly nostalgic, almost melancholy tone permeating the novel. The Alaskan wilderness in all its seasons is described in such vivid detail and luscious imagery that it forms an essential backdrop to the story. One can almost feel the bitterly cold winds lashing against the body; see the vistas of unrelenting snow; hear the sound of feet squelching into the mud-soaked earth of spring; smell the crisp, clean winter air; and relish in the bountiful harvests of summer. Our senses are treated to the touch, sound, sight, and scent of pine forests, mountain herbs, and wild animals. 

Mabel and Jack brave the difficulties of eking a living in Alaska’s unforgiving climate. They live and work in virtual isolation until they befriend their neighbors George, Esther, and their boys. Their life takes an unexpected turn when a snowman they craft disappears and a young girl mysteriously and intermittently flickers in the woods wearing the same scarf and mittens Mabel and Jack had used to dress their snowman. Eventually this snow child, Faina, turns up on their doorstep and befriends them. They adopt her as the child they always wanted even though they suspect there is something strange about her mysterious appearances and disappearances into the Alaskan wilderness. They learn to accept the girl, allowing her to enter and exit their lives on her own terms. 

The tender love Mabel and Jack have for each other is in evidence throughout the novel, especially during challenging times. We witness their growing love for Faina as they anxiously await her return each time she ventures out into the snowy wilderness. Ivey successfully portrays the characters as well-developed individuals who support each other and who gain our sympathy and admiration for their work ethic and determination to persevere. Esther is particularly colorful and manifests the undaunted spirit of pioneering women. The only character that remains elusive is Faina. Although she is more fully developed in the second half of the novel, she remains an enigma from start to finish. She seldom speaks and only rarely are we allowed access to her thoughts, all of which contribute to her mystique. 

The Snow Child immerses us in a magical place with a magical young girl as its focal point. But it is also a celebration of what is important in life: family; community; friendship; selfless love; the freedom to live as one chooses; adjusting to the rhythms of nature; and, above all, a willingness to accept the inexplicable as part of the mystery of life.

Broken Vessels

Andre Dubus

I love Andre Dubus’ short stories and didn’t know quite what to expect from his essay collection, Broken Vessels.  I wasn’t disappointed.

Broken Vessels is a series of 22 personal essays written between 1977-1990. Dubus is a gifted writer with an astounding ability to turn even the most mundane event to an almost spiritual affair by leading the reader gently and unassumingly along. One minute we follow his thoughts as he cooks and eats breakfast with his wife; the next minute he has transported us to a completely different realm in which this simple occasion is transformed into a communion of souls with each soul acknowledging and sharing in the other’s mortality. The reader almost does a double take, wondering how on earth he got us here.

Dubus’ topics are wide-ranging: his boyhood in Louisiana; the poetry of baseball; the challenges of making a living by writing; the car accident that cost him his leg; his painful path in learning to navigate his disability; the fragility of limb and life; the breakup of his third marriage; and, most of all, his aching love for his two youngest daughters.

In the hands of a less gifted writer, the topics could easily deteriorate into syrupy, sentimental stuff. But Dubus is never guilty of being maudlin. He writes with elegance, sensitivity, and unflinching honesty. The truths he expresses are all the more profound because they sneak up on you quietly and unexpectedly and yet they shimmer with the passion and grace that characterize his writing.

Highly recommended.

The Frozen Thames

Helen Humphreys

The Frozen Thames by Helen Humphreys is a delightful series of forty vignettes, each based on an actual time when the River Thames froze solid due to an exceptionally cold winter in England. The vignettes begin in 1142 and conclude in 1895, the last year in which the river froze. Humphreys writes a short piece to correspond with each year. Some of the pieces are based on documented historical events; others are tremendous feats of imagination. All are written in a lyrical prose that captures intimate snapshots of individuals from all walks of life as they cope with a frigidly cold winter and a frozen river.

Humphreys portrays the wintery scenes in vivid, poignant detail: frozen birds tumbling from the skies; skeletal humans and animals dying of starvation; the bitter cold seeping into the bones; the desperate poverty of tradesmen whose livelihood is threatened since the frozen river cannot transport their goods and services; the shortage of food; people falling through the ice as it softens and melts. But there were also some illustrations of resourcefulness and acts of kindness and compassion: the young boy who gently picks up frozen birds, reviving them with his hands and breath; the driver who patiently waits for his oxen until they are ready to tread across the river; the people who allow birds to nest in their homes for warmth; the desperate struggle to save people from drowning; the Frost Fairs—booths and side shows that spring up on the frozen river offering goods and services in a carnival like atmosphere.

Physically small in size and printed and illustrated on a heavy, gloss stock paper, the book is a pleasure to look at and a pleasure to read.

Highly recommended.

Buffalo Woman Comes Singing

Brooke Medicine Eagle

Brooke Medicine Eagle is a spiritual guide and teacher, conducting workshops to help others on the path of spirituality and growth. In Buffalo Woman Comes Singing, she traces the steps she took to connect with her spiritual core. She describes her life on the farm, her family, her upbringing, and her encounters with individuals in the physical and spiritual realm, all of whom contributed to her progress on the spiritual path. Scattered throughout are personal anecdotes about the people and events that impacted her journey. Each of her chapters concludes with exercises to assist readers on their own spiritual quests.

The most interesting part of the book for me is the way in which the ceremonies, rituals, objects, animals, and vision quests are rendered symbolically, making each pregnant with meaning and significance, and contributing to our understanding of the worldview of the indigenous peoples of America. Although the book contained some interesting insights, hers is not the best resource available for articulating the basic tenets of Native American spirituality. For that I recommend the writings of Paula Gunn Allen.

It should also be noted that Brooke Medicine Eagle has been accused by some Native American groups of misrepresenting Native American spirituality and ceremonies. Such criticism calls into question her authenticity as a medicine woman. 

Goblin Market: A Tale of Two Sisters

Christina Rossetti

Christina Rossetti’s hauntingly beautiful ballad, Goblin Market, has the fairy tale quality of John Keats’ equally beautiful poem, La Belle Dame Sans Merci. And like Keats’ poem, Goblin Market tells a story of seduction.

In Goblin Market, two sisters, Laura and Lizzie, hear the Goblin Men’s song luring innocent girls to taste their delicious fruit. Whereas Lizzie covers her ears and shuts her eyes to avoid giving in to their seductive song, Laura is tempted to taste the forbidden fruit. She seeks out the Goblin Men, exchanging a lock of her hair for the fruit. But having once given in to temptation, Laura behaves like an out of control addict. Her obsession is to sink her teeth into the fruits offered by the Goblin Men. But since she can no longer hear them, she pines away with an insatiable yearning for the forbidden fruit.

Just as Laura is on the brink of death, Lizzie, her tenacious sister, rescues her. Lizzie confronts the Goblin Men, tightly shutting her mouth to prevent them from cramming in any of the forbidden fruit. Meanwhile, they jostle her, taunt her, claw at her, kick her, bruise her, mew and bark at her, and smother her body with their fruit, all in an attempt to get her to taste it. But she is impervious to their seductive wiles, refusing to submit to male violation.

The happy ending has a fairy tale quality. Lizzie runs back to Laura and urges her to suck the juice dripping from her body. Since the Goblin Men’s juices are mixed with Lizzie’s own bodily juices, Laura ingests her sister’s juice. This acts as a powerful antidote to the Goblin Men’s seductive magic. Laura is saved, and the poem concludes with the sisters marrying, having children, and living happily ever after.

Laura’s seduction has distinctly sexual overtones. The sensuous description of the forbidden fruits adds to their seductive appeal. The goblin men are uncanny. Despite the differences in their grotesque appearance, (one is described as having a cat’s face; another as prowling like a wombat; another whisking his tale; and yet another as crawling like a snake), they sing their song of seduction with one voice. Once they succeed in capturing an innocent girl in their snare, they disappear from her view.

Although the poem can be interpreted on many different levels, it is fundamentally feminist in its orientation. It illustrates the importance of sisterhood as a vehicle to overcome adversity. There is no Prince Charming galloping in for the rescue. Other than the evil goblins, men are absent from the poem.

Goblin Market can also be read as a feminist reworking of the temptation of Eve in the Biblical Garden of Eden. Rossetti re-works the story. Instead of Jesus as the personal savior, it is the resourceful sister Lizzie who saves Laura from the tenacious grip of the Goblin Men. And whereas Eve and her progeny’s punishment in the Biblical version is to suffer, there is no corresponding indication in Rossetti’s version of any long term adverse effects on Laura. While it is true Laura transgresses, the consequences of her transgression are temporary, and she is able to return to the idyllic world of sisterhood a wiser and happier being.

This is a beautiful poem, beautifully rendered with fairy-tale qualities. The edition I have contains the paintings of Christina Rossetti’s eldest brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti. I have always loved his sensuous paintings of women, so their inclusion in this edition was an added bonus.

Highly recommended, especially for lovers of fairy tales with a strong female role model.

Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard

Kiran Desai

As one might expect of a novel entitled Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard, hilarity abounds and sanity is in short supply. Kiran Desai’s novel, with its hint of magical realism, is funny, light-hearted, and a quick and easy read.

To begin with, Desai’s characters are absurdly comical: an eccentric, half-crazed mother, obsessed with undertaking bizarre culinary concoctions; the young Sampath, who, after losing his lackluster job at the post office, takes up residence in a guava tree from where he makes obscure pronouncements; the village locals who duly interpret these pronouncements as profound words of wisdom; a sister who bites off half an ear of the man she loves; a grandmother who drops her dentures in a cooking pot filled with gravy, fishes said dentures out, pops them back into her mouth, and proudly displays a grin with her curried yellow teeth; a father who schemes to capitalize on his son’s newly found fame; monkeys who terrorize villagers and then take up residence in the guava tree while adopting the young hermit as one of their own; devotees who come from miles around to wait patiently at the foot of the tree in the hope of hearing Sampath spout his pronouncements. The more fortunate devotees receive his blessing by placing their heads under Sampath’s dangling feet. And, then, of course, there is the overarching problem of what to do with alcoholic monkeys on the prowl for even more alcohol. Such is the world depicted in Kiran Desai’s charming novel.

Desai is a keen observer of human behavior, seeming to take delight in depicting the quirks and foibles of her characters. Sampath’s pronouncements, for example, “Why think about futter when you have plenty of butter?” Or, the even more inspiring, “Every plum has its own beginning.  Every pea its own end,” are greeted with “Ooohs!" and "Aaahs!" from his enthralled audience. Bizarre happenings are rendered in humorous and colorful detail. The plot is absurd, bordering on the fantastic.

Desai’s skill as a writer is evident as she weaves an incredible story, populates it with amusing characters, and captures the atmosphere of a small town in India. She does it all with humor, undeniable gusto, and a prose that borders on poetic.

A very funny, light, and entertaining book. Highly recommended.