Thoughts on “Stash” by David Klein

I picked up Stash by David Klein on a coworker’s recommendation. It quickly pulled me in and kept me turning pages, even though it’s not the sort of novel I tend to gravitate towards. Here’s the premise:

Stash by David Klein (cover)Gwen, a 30-ish mother of two and wife of a successful pharmaceutical company marketing guy, is looking forward to her weekend away with her family at their cabin in the Adirondacks. The day they are to leave, she drops her kids off at their respective activities and arranges for a friend to pick them up. She then heads downtown to see Jude, an old friend, at the restaurant he owns. Her visit is not a social call; instead, she buys a small bag of pot from Jude, who runs a small side business dealing drugs. Gwen then drives out to a nearby state park, where she smokes half a joint, planning to hang out at the park for a few hours until it’s time to gather the family and head to the cabin.

While she’s enjoying her joint, though, Gwen gets a call from Marlene, the friend who was supposed to pick up Gwen’s kids. Marlene apologizes but says she can’t get the kids after all. So Gwen snuffs out her joint, gets in her car, and carefully starts off down the winding road out of the park. As she rounds a corner and is momentarily blinded by the sun’s glare, another car swerves into her lane, and the two vehicles collide. The cops arrive and find the bag of pot in Gwen’s car, which leads them to test her for drugs. Meanwhile, the other driver — an elderly man who should not have been driving — dies from injuries sustained in the crash. The evidence clearly shows that the other driver was at fault, but because of a recent crackdown on drug activity in town, Gwen is arrested and charged. She’s told the charges might be dropped…if she gives up the name of her dealer. So much for her quiet weekend with her family.

Meanwhile, Gwen’s husband Brian is in a sticky situation at work. His company has been quietly pushing their new drug, which is FDA approved for anxiety, for off-label use as a weight loss drug. When a potentially dangerous side effect surfaces and a prominent physician threatens to expose it, Brian is the one poised to take the fall.

The book is written in third person, alternating between multiple viewpoints: Gwen, Brian, Jude, Jude’s teenage daughter Dana, a police detective, and a few others. As the focal character shifts with each chapter, pieces come together and missing details slide into place. The plot grows ever more complex as the characters tangle themselves up more and more thoroughly.

I kept turning pages because I wanted to know what would happen. The plot is definitely gripping, and the multiple viewpoints are especially effective in building suspense. I did have a few issues:

First, the characters, to me, were completely flat, like they’d been modeled after stereotypes. I didn’t care about any of them, and I never felt like I knew them at all. At first I didn’t like it; I wanted to cheer for one character over another, to be attached to the outcome of their actions. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it kind of works this way. Without attachments to the characters getting in the way, the moral issues the book addresses were the piece that caught my attention. If I’d been wrapped up in hoping for a particular outcome, I wouldn’t have thought so much about the plot and the questions it raised.

Second, I must say, I didn’t love the ending. Everything was too wrapped up and pretty. But I guess the book had to end somehow!

Overall, my two beefs with Stash weren’t enough to turn my opinion of it, and I did enjoy the book. A quick, complicated plot, lots of viewpoints, and interesting moral questions kept me reading, even if my love for the characters did not. As I said, not the sort of book I’m usually drawn to but definitely worth the read!

Thoughts on “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks” by Rebecca Skloot (Audiobook)

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot would not even have crossed my radar if it hadn’t made a solid appearance on the IndieBound best sellers list a while back. For one, the topic — HeLa cells and the woman they came from — was entirely unfamiliar to me. I’m also not likely to pick up nonfiction, unless it’s a memoir. But when I was looking for a new audiobook to listen to, I decided to give The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks a go.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot (audiobook cover)The book, it turns out, is a pretty equal blend of the science and history of HeLa, the author’s memoir of researching the book, and the biography of Henrietta Lacks, the woman from whom HeLa cells were originally taken. These three strands are woven together, alternating in chapters that jump back and forth in time.

The science portion of the book delves into issues of cell cultivation and the various ways in which humans, both at the cellular level and as whole people, have been used in scientific research, with HeLa cells playing a starring role. Some of the experimentation is appalling, yet among the breakthroughs that have come from such research are the Polio vaccine, gene mapping, and cell cloning. I had never stopped to consider this remarkable history, and I definitely had no idea that one woman’s cancer cells had made it possible. Skloot gives enough information in small enough bites that the scientific portions are fascinating without being overwhelming to non-scientific types (i.e. me).

Skloot also chronicles her research on the book, which consisted largely of spending time with Henrietta Lacks’s family. She spoke with Henrietta’s husband, children, cousins, and grandchildren. She contacted physicians and scientists who had been involved with Henrietta’s treatment and the subsequent use of her cancer cells. By far, the most influential person on this portion of the book is Deborah, Henrietta’s daughter, who was too young when her mother died to remember much about Henrietta. The story of Skloot’s research becomes more about Deborah’s struggle to know her mother and come to terms with her mother’s role in the world today through HeLa than it is about writing a book. After a slow and rocky start, Skloot and Deborah unravel the mystery of Henrietta together, helping each other as they go.

Finally, there is the brief story of the woman whose cells became HeLa: Henrietta Lacks. Though her cells have been an integral part of modern science for over 50 years, there have been astonishingly few attempts to uncover who Henrietta Lacks was. Skloot recreates Henrietta’s brief life, which ended in 1951 when she lost her battle with an aggressive cervical cancer. Unbeknownst to her or her family, the hospital where she died — Johns Hopkins — kept a bit of her tumor for research. It is from this sample that the original HeLa cells came.

The audio version ends with an afterward, which examines the issue of tissue rights today, among other things. This chapter is followed by an interview with Rebecca Skloot, which I found enlightening.

Written in the first person wherever the author is a part of the story, the book has a conversational feel that makes for easy and enjoyable listening. The reader is Cassandra Campbell, and her reading style suits the book well. The 11+ hours of text felt like much less.

Overall, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot was interesting and informative to listen to. Well written and well read, its conversational tone and varied narrative threads make the book a good introduction to HeLa cells, their use, and the person from whom they came.

Thoughts on “My Fair Lazy” by Jen Lancaster

I have been meaning to read something by Jen Lancaster ever since her books were recommended to me by a coworker several years ago. I recently started reading her blog, Jennsylvania, starting with this post in which Jen Lancaster and Dave Barry interview each other. But it was this post — the part about the cats (scroll down) — that put me over the edge and sent me out to procure a copy of My Fair Lazy, the newest from Lancaster.

My Fair Lazy by Jen Lancaster (cover)Jen Lancaster’s books are memoirs, but without all the heaviness that characterize many books of the genre. For one thing, she tackles life in snippets instead of sweeping eras. My Fair Lazy, for example, covers maybe a year and focuses on what Lancaster calls her Jennaissance: her adventures in culture (think opera, world cuisine, classic literature, etc) after too many years of watching reality TV.

Additionally, Lancaster is extremely witty. The book didn’t have me laughing out loud (though there was definitely the occasional involuntary snort or giggle), but man, was it fun to read. Lancaster writes with the kind of distinct style that makes you feel like she’s telling you the story over lunch or cocktails or something. I never got tired of reading her style of writing, and it never felt fake or forced the way some comedic memoirs sometimes come across. It was a great balance between narrative and wit. You take her seriously while at the same time being immensely entertained.

As for My Fair Lazy itself, I must admit I felt a little lost for the first 80 pages or so. This was the bit before she has the idea of undertaking a Jennaissance, when she’s sort of citing examples of pre-Jennaissance Jen, and to me it was entertaining but a little unfocused. Once the project began, though, everything seemed to fall into place, and I never felt lost again.

Lancaster takes the reader along as she learns about pairing wine and cheese (including the stinky, rancid ones), sees all manner of plays (nudity and dry cleaning film, anyone?), reads classics poolside on her Kindle, and gets lost in San Francisco’s Chinatown while on a book tour (all the while trying to avoid inadvertently purchasing a gremlin). Her goal is to acquire a cultural vocabulary that extends beyond the realm of Gossip Girl, America’s Next Top Model, and the rest of the reality TV lineup…preferably in time for the prestigious Authors Night held by the East Hampton library, which will be her trial by fire.

In short, My Fair Lazy is a witty cultural memoir that’s light without being fluff. Depending on your temperament and mood, you’re pretty much guaranteed to laugh (or at least snort!) out loud at least a few times. And as a bonus, it’s even studded with moments of genuine insight. I’ll be reading more of Jen Lancaster’s books.

Oh, and also? I’m totally adopting the phrase “Holy cats!”

Thoughts on “The Complete Persepolis” by Marjane Satrapi

I haven’t read many graphic novels. In fact, the only one I’ve read (aside from Persepolis, which we’ll get to in a moment) is At A Crossroads by Kate T. Williamson. It’s a genre in which I find it difficult to choose a book that really grabs me, so I’m really not sure what made me suddenly decide to order Marjane Satrapi’s graphic memoir The Complete Persepolis from the library and dive right in.

The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi (cover)The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi is the author’s memoir of growing up in Iran. It was originally written in two parts but was compiled into one (hence the “Complete”) after the 2007 movie Persepolis (which I did not see). My start as an independent bookstore employee roughly coincided with the release of the movie version and subsequent increased popularity of the book, so Satrapi’s memoir has been on my book radar for as long as I’ve had one.

The memoir is done in stark black-and-white illustrations, with comic style strips broken into chapters. It follows Satrapi’s life from the time she was a small child in Iran in the 1970s through her school years in Austria, her return to Iran, and her ultimate move to France. Throughout, Satrapi struggles with the constraints of her country’s laws and religion and chaffs — understandably — under the extreme restrictions placed on women. She makes her share of bad decisions and learns her lessons. Alongside her life are bits of Iran’s turbulent history, which are woven seamlessly into the narrative of her life.

I definitely learned a great deal about Iran from reading The Complete Persepolis. I enjoyed the book because of its graphic format, but also because, though it is born out of and told in the midst of turbulence, war, and oppression, so many pieces of the story are relatable. Unlike some memoirists, Satrapi gives attention to the ordinary bits, allowing them to be colored by her background but not so constrained by it that the reader cannot link his or her own experience to it. For example, there is the universal issue of a teenager trying to be accepted. For some, that might involve making the right friends or wearing the right clothes. For Satrapi, in her school in Vienna, it was balancing her Iranian background with the culture and expectations of her peers. Or take the issue of middle school rebellion: for some teens, this involves piercings or wild parties, but for Satrapi and her friends, simply wearing a bracelet or a bit of makeup was enough. Anything more extreme would have resulted in unimaginable punishment.

I just have to say, I really liked Satrapi’s grandmother. She makes several appearances in the book, though all are brief. Yet from her body language, her comments, and the way Satrapi’s graphic self relates to her, she becomes this level-headed, tough, awesome grandmother who clearly influenced Satrapi and who Satrapi looked up to throughout the memoir. The other important characters were equally well developed, but my favorite was definitely Grandma.

At 341 pages, the book took me a respectable amount of time to read. Though there is less text than in a traditional memoir, I found myself taking time to study the illustrations, enjoying the way they worked with the text to tell a story. It feels like I’ve just finished a “real” book, and yet, somehow, it is different. I’ve been trying to put my finger on what, exactly, the difference is.

I think it lies in how the book is structured, which affects which elements are emphasized and how information is conveyed. Before you say “Well, duh!” hear me out.

With a traditional memoir, the details are described for you in words. Memoir, in general, seems to be a genre where lush description is prized, so that the taste of food, the sounds of war, the smell of a fresh cut meadow, and other sensory memories are given special attention. If a character walks into a room, most memoirists will give you at least some description of the room. If the room is populated with friends who will have speaking roles in the story, they tend to at least be assigned a name and maybe a little background, for the sake of clarity.

With a graphic memoir — at least, with Persepolis — the reliance on pictures to tell the story automatically highlights different elements. A whole page of pictures with captions describing one sensory memory would be both hard to draw and probably a little boring, not to mention that a book composed of such drawn out descriptions would get very long very quickly. With fewer words overall to work with, Satrapi (and I would imagine other graphic memoirists) use captions and dialogue to advance the plot instead of delve into details. So the details are instead expressed through the pictures. Instead of describing someone’s reaction through a string of words, Satrapi only needs to draw an appropriate face. If a setting or character is important, she can draw with greater detail and perhaps a caption; otherwise, no explanation is needed for the reader to understand that the scene is taking place in an anonymous room or that the extra people in the frame adding to the conversation are friends.

I also find I am rarely aware of how the passage of time physically affects the people in a traditional memoir, unless some detail is singled out and described to me. Yet in a graphic memoir, the passage of time must be obvious if the story is to come across as real. In Persepolis, Marjane changes appearance several times throughout the course of the story, and each permutation is tied in my mind to a phase of her life. Instead of hearing about it, you actually watch her grow from a cute kid to an awkward, rebellious teen to a graceful young lady. Kind of cool.

I am declaring my seconds foray in to the world of graphic novels a success. I have to get back to reading the books on my actual shelf, but I hope to pick up another graphic novel in the near future. Suggestions are welcome!

A Look at Book Trailers

A few weeks ago I posted the book trailer for Lane Smith’s It’s a Book. I guess they’ve been around for a while, but book trailers are pretty new to me. They are, as you might imagine, trailers put out by publishers to get people interested in soon-to-be-published books, in much the same way that film studios release trailers for upcoming movies. Kind of a cool idea. It got me thinking about books (and their trailers) vs. movies (and their trailers).

I am not a big fan of books being made into movies. In my opinion, it is so rare that the movie is actually as good as or better than the book that I pretty much only see the movie version if I haven’t read and am not planning to read the book. (Example? The Blind Side. I quite enjoyed the movie but probably would never get through the book.) I dislike the necessary summarizing and combining and cutting and tweaking that has to happen in order to fit 400-ish pages of text into two hours of film. But what I dislike most is how seeing someone else’s interpretation of a book brought fully to life — setting, characters, vocal inflection, facial expression, special effects, mood, all of it — irrevocably alters my own idea of the book.

Quick story. This actually happened at work. I overheard a kid asking his mother why she thought he would like to read the Harry Potter series when the movies just showed him everything. How can we possibly exercise our imaginations when every piece, from the broadest element to the tiniest detail, has already been created for us? All we have to do is sit back and watch. No wonder TV-addicted kids find reading tough — compared to passively soaking up television, reading a book is hard work!

Okay, back on track.

Sometimes I even avoid watching previews for movies because I don’t want my own rendering of the book to be affected. When previews for Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass were running rampant a while back, I tried so hard to avoid them. A bit extreme, perhaps, but I really wanted to preserve Lyra’s world as I had imagined it when I read the trilogy years ago.

My point? Book trailers can be different in a kind of cool way. Of course this isn’t true for all of them, but some book trailers seem to avoid defining any element too clearly. If a character is portrayed, it’s only briefly. If the imagined setting is shown, it’s just in snippets. In this trailer for Marcus Zusak’s amazing novel, The Book Thief, it’s hard to tell if the people you’re seeing are part of the story or merely its audience. Sometimes the trailers are even animated, like this one for Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book. Neither trailer gives away too much, yet each, in my opinion, conveys the particular flavor of the book it represents.

And then, of course, every once in a while, a trailer comes along that is just off the wall. This one, for Gary Shteyngart’s new novel, Super Sad True Love Story, has been getting lots of attention and is quite entertaining!

I also have Susan Beth Pfeffer’s The Moon trilogy waiting for me on audio; I’m saving them for a trip later this summer. The publisher rolled all three books into a one-minute trailer.

Book Screening is a site that has collected a bunch of book trailers together to make it easier to browse them. It’s kind of a fun way to spend some time. Maybe your next read is waiting for you there!