Old Books, Rare Friends - Rostenberg and Stern

If you're a true book fanatic, this is a great read. I found myself relating to the term 'Finger-Spitzengefuhl' that these ladies talk about - that inexplicable tingling that emanates from your fingertips when you find the perfect treasure in a pile of books at a flea market or used book store or at a library book sale and it dawns on you that you have truly come upon something special. My incidents of Finger-Spitzengefuhl are humble in comparison to these renowned antiquarian book dealers, though! Imagine finding original printings of tracts created in the Leyden print works of William Brewster, scientific texts from the library of Robert Boyle, 'blood and thunder' serial tales printed in mid-19th century sensational papers that were penned by Louisa May Alcott under her pseudonyms ! These are just a few of the more sensational finds that these ladies made over their years of researching the printing process and the literature and social tracts printed around the world.

This joint memoir is an inspiration to anyone who ever dreamt of looking through a pile of old books and coming upon a true treasure of history. Sadly, both Leona and Madeleine have passed away and their incredible knowledge is relegated to their long list of published writings, but boy, what women they were!

A fast and really interesting read that places you right alongside them as they made the journey from NYC to Europe and back, through the halls of academia to the eccentric world of antiquarian book trade, from dusty cellars to spiffy trade shows to the offices of some of the most respected research libraries in the United States.  And all the time ... it's all about the books and the research and the history and the incredible sense of exhilaration when a true gem is unearthed!

The Bucolic Plague - Josh Kilmer-Purcell

This couple of urbanites escape the rat race of New York City when they buy an historic home in Schoharie County, New York. That's when the real rat race begins ...

Josh and Brent head upstate to pick apples every fall, but in the fall of 2006 they happened upon a remote village that seemed dropped from another century. Sharon Springs, a little enclave in Schoharie County, rolled past their car windows in all its fall splendor. Its main drag was chock-a- block with old homes and commercial buildings that time had forgotten - turn of the century hotels, stores, rooming houses, bath houses, private homes that recalled the heyday of the town as a summertime retreat for those seeking the healing powers of the town's sulphur springs that belched both gases and water. The days of the sulphur spa passed and the town fell into a sort of Rip Van Winkle lethargy that spooked the Beekman boys, as they rolled into town. Yet, they stayed overnight at the local hotel, ate well, slept great, had good conversation with the local folks, and in the morning they grudgingly packed their duds and their apples and headed back to Manhattan. Josh Kilmer-Purcell moans about having to return to the workaday existence of the city even as the couple begins the drive back to the city. And then, an historic marker slides up on the right and the car brakes for a quick read, and the view of a beautiful old Federal colonial mansion is beyond the sign, and lo and freakin' behold, there's a realty sign. The place is for sale. The boys turn to stare at each other.

In a New York minute, their fates are sealed and the Beekman boys are moving willy-nilly toward a brush with mortgage bankers  AND nature that will change their lives! You can practically hear them humming the theme to Green Acres even as they're headed back to the city to begin the process of buying a country place and making a lifestyle change that will be the best thing they've ever done!

From then on, it's all dead flies, rotten eggs, baby goats, close encounters with farm machinery, making fast friends with the locals, brainstorming how to finance this grand scheme of escaping the big city, et cetera. It's great fun and really pretty funny, as Josh K-P has a wicked sense of humor and a writing style that is sarcastic, self-deprecating, and slightly barbed. I wondered what Martha Stewart thought of his accounts of their meeting and his comments on her lifestyle empire.

It's always nice to hear of a success story and the Beekman boys have been wildly successful in making the move upstate, building a marketing plan for their gentleman's farm, building their brand and cashing in on the commercial potential of their goat herd. To boot, Josh got his wish of retiring to the country and writing a memoir!

Smart! Very smart, Josh!

I'm Off Then: Losing and Finding Myself on the Camino De Santiago - Hape Kerkeling

Hans Peter Kerkeling, an overweight, happy-go-lucky German television comedian, makes his way to France and the last point of The Way of St James in France. His goal is to go on a pilgrimage; he plans to walk the 400 plus mile route of the Camino de Santiago across northern Spain and finish his trip at Santiago de Compostela's cathedral. Of course, he doesn't tell his friends and family that! They'd think he'd gone crazy!

What begins as a 'lark' soon becomes one man's journey of reflection and self-discovery. Hape Kerkeling comes to discover that attitude is what it's all about. His fatigue is conquered by singing at the top of his lungs or giving in to the exhaustion for a bit so that he can sit by the side of the path and enjoy a cigarette and cafe latte at a wayside cafe. Journeying such a long route is about setting aside time and schedules, living in the moment, becoming more forgiving of what his body will/won't stand and what his mind will/won't endure.

Yes, long journeys with uncertain outcomes become more than distances covered. Hape's book, while part travelogue, part memoir, and part 'advice/research' read for anyone contemplating making the pilgrimage along The Way of St James, becomes much more. It becomes a map of the psychological change and philosophical growth that Hape undergoes, as he makes his way from one point along his path to the next. Along the way, he meets and is changed by numerous people. Some help him make strategies for physical survival and comfort. Some challenge his mind with spiritual and philosophical ideas that change him in subtle ways. Some help him to laugh at his foibles and follies. Some enrage him to the point of standing up for others in his world. All of them serve the purpose of begging a question, "Are our paths pre-ordained by some higher power or mere chance ?"

I loved this book. It approaches the idea of  making the pilgrimage along The Way of St James with humor, pragmatism, and just a bit of mysticism. Hape is a changed man at the end of his pilgrimage. The book he has given us is a great read. He doesn't play down the rigors of the trip. In fact, he is brutally honest about the geography of the the Way, the dangers and annoyances of certain parts of the path, and the specific needs that a pilgrim has. In balance, he also marvels at the beauty of the countryside, the romance of certain villages along the way, the generosity of the Spanish people, and the fun of getting to know fellow pilgrims. The effect leaves us with an idea of how wonderful it just may be for us, should we dare to take up the pilgrim's staff and step out onto the path.

The Devil in the Kitchen - Marco Pierre White

Interesting to hear the chef's side of the story ... well, kinda. White's rise within the world of top British restaurants may have seemed meteoric, but he banged around many a kitchen on his rise to 'rock star chef'' status. My impression of him, as I read his life story, is that he is a hard working Brit with a constant urge to be the best and prove himself a top notch chef, entrepreneur, restauranteur, whatever. He was certainly a 'sponge' that soaked up technique, food sensibilities of French haute cuisine, kitchen organization, food presentation technique, cost management, et cetera, as he worked the kitchens of great restaurants such as La Gavroche and La Tante Claire ... all this from a kid who never attended cooking school, but learned from his father, a career restaurant chef from Leeds, in the north of England.

Coming of age during the 80's, White worked hard during restaurant hours and hung out during off hours with a young party set. His tale recounts run ins with celebrities and prominent social personalities. The irony is that he tends to observe the scene and not actively participate and that's probably a good thing, as that era was rife with raves, cocaine, punk culture, and AIDS. Chef White spent his time dancing around the perimeter of major parties and saving his energy for honing his skills in the restaurant kitchens of his employers.

White's rise as a chef was meteoric and his reputation for being explosive and downright rude when it came to demanding (or equally rude) customers became a side show to his culinary genius. I was turned off at the descriptions of his confrontations with various celebrities and rude restaurant parties and I must admit some of the food he describes cooking holds no fascination for me. Pig trotters, lamb sweetbreads, most offal, and truffles are not high on my list of 'must haves', so the sophistication of his cuisine escapes me, but it is certainly eye-opening to know just the amount of quiet obedience one must pay to the chef when one is an underling in the kitchen and it appears that Marco Pierre White paid his dues.

After reading this autobiography, I went back looking for a signature dish that I might try my hand at. I'll contemplate the asparagus mousse ... and see what the addition of chicken will do for it . On second thought, perhaps I'll look through some regional cookbooks from England and pick a simple country dish from the north of England to honor his humble beginnings for unlike, MPW, I have no desire to have three Michelin stars, prove myself to any world class foodie culture, or perfect kitchen craft. I just want a comforting plate of food on the table when I sit down to my supper.

Still, I have great respect for one so driven.  And he sure was a looker, back in the day!

In the Body of the World - Eve Ensler

This is a book about avoidance and confrontation, powerful personality and humbled soul, living life and confronting death, internalizing violence and evil and harvesting cancer. This is a difficult and often tearful read that is amazing and cathartic and rejuvenating. This is a memoir of Eve Ensler's bout with cancer, her psychological voyage through the disease, her trial by fire within the healthcare system and her eventual victory over the cancer that ravaged her body.

I couldn't help but be reminded of Dante's journey through Hell when I read this book. Ms. Ensler travels the world advocating for an end to violence against women and children. She recounts the endless people and places that she has witnessed, the causes she has invested her energy in, and tells of the violent family dynamics that caused her such early pain. It is clear that she has spent her life coming to terms with her father's violent and abusive treatment, her mother's passivity, her dangerous and rebellious behavior. Her past has fueled her passions for advocacy, but that advocacy took its toll on her body.

Her voyage through the diagnosis of uterine cancer, the surgical removal of various tumors, the complications of infection, the chemo therapy, and the soul searching and emotional tribulations make for such a powerful read ... that's all I can say. The woman is a force of nature ... a fighter ... a philosopher ... a strong female force for nurturance and peace and healing and feminine empowerment. God bless her.

The Hills of Tuscany - Ferenc Máté

The idea of chucking it all here in the States and moving to a small place in a foreign country is a dream of mine. Several years ago, my husband and I had the chance to live in Germany for a short time; our love of travel and discovery was awakened. Ever since that junket, we've tried to think of a way to get back to Germany on a more permanent basis. We dream. We websearch places and towns in Bavaria. We dream.

Of course, that being said, we'd have to win the lottery. To feed the fantasy, I sometimes pick up books that take me to a different country, a different lifestyle, and a different climate. Good Lord, this latest book has gotten me hooked on the idea of getting my sorry butt to Italy's Tuscan region before I go belly up!

Ferenc Máté writes of he and his wife's decision to finally settle down, after a life of travel, living in a variety of unconventional places, bouncing around the globe at various jobs. The place they choose is Tuscany. The frantic search for a house drives the first half of the book, but interspersed are colorful descriptions of the landscape and the light of Tuscany, the food and wine, the friendliness of the local people, and some history of the region that charms Ferenc and his wife, Candace.

The second half of the book is a slow joyful settling in to the small house and the surrounding countryside. We meet the neighbors, the local townspeople and tradesmen. We learn a bit about farming, as Ferenc and Candace begin to reclaim the land surrounding their home. We hear about festive meals with neighbors and friends and forays into the countryside to forage for the ingredients of late suppers, languid picnics, and romantic interludes. It's all very dreamy and wonderful and is a perfect armchair vacation to a place that is sunny and picturesque, delicious and wine-soaked, romantic and timeless.

Yup ... Tuscany has been added to the bucket list. Thanks, Ferenc.

Colors of the Mountain - Da Chen

Reading memoirs can be a light-hearted experience or one that wrenches the heart. In Colors of the Mountain, Da Chen manages to give his readers a bit of both experiences. Who can read of his family's oppression and public harassment during Chairman Mao's Cultural Revolution and not feel a sense of outrage and empathy for their humiliations and fear of imprisonment ? Who cannot cheer for young Da Chen when he decides to beat the system and get a top-notch slot at one of the Chinese universities that opened when the Cultural Revolution had run its political course? Da Chen's voyage through his school years makes for a wonderful look at Chinese culture and the political egg shells that every Chinese citizen tiptoed around during that era of oppression called the Cultural Revolution. He gives a vivid picture of small town politics and back-biting that occurs everywhere, but was amplified by the extreme climate in China of the 60's and 70's. And as he recalls his childhood experience, we see other children mirroring what their parents and leaders do within the smaller social clicque of the classroom and on the streets of his village.

The beauty of the book is its relentless voice of youth - a voice that in one moment rants aggressively against adults and their corrupt political bickering and in the next moment speaks with innocent optimism of working toward unthinkable dreams of grandeur and retribution for slights, humiliations, and pain caused by bureaucratic teachers and town politicos. Through the entire memoir, the love and support of his parents and siblings remains a constant and the support and brotherly love of his pack of hoodlum friends serve to give him an outlet that every kid should have (regardless of their naughty and sometimes disrespectful behavior!). One can't help but cheer him on as he excels at the 'do or die' testing that allows him to become eligible for a spot in university and moves him closer to realizing his dream of stepping out of the poverty and social strictures forced on his family.

This is a great introduction to a wonderful writer. Da Chen has gone on from this memoir to write other books that expose Chinese culture to Western readers.  He has emigrated to the United States and lives in upstate New York, where he continues to write.

Stephen King On Writing - A Memoir of the Craft

"Genius is nothing more nor less than doing well what anyone can do badly."

                                                              - Amelia Barr, British novelist

 

 

I've just finished reading Stephen King's memoir on writing and am still processing all he has to say. So much of the advice he gives is really common sense when I think about it. Alas, that is the problem with advice, though. It's always struck me as an easy and cheap pitch to a child to tell them to "just sit up straight, keep peddling, and don't look down, look where you're going" when helping them to learn bike riding. This is basically what Mr. King tells the would-be writer reading his memoir. Sound advice, but boy, it's a lot harder than it looks ... at first.

 

Many a child has pitched off the bike to scrape knees and hands just as many a writer crashes up against the hard pavement of creative roadblocks and criticism ... or rejection. It takes a determined soul to stick to the task and that is where King's humor and bravado serve as a wellspring of encouragement. It was interesting to read about his early life and the events that shaped him as a writer. He looks at his life with an honest eye and a sharp sense of self-deprecation. Through that lens, the reader can see some of his stories and novels as small slices of his life. He distills images and events that he has experienced and, with the incredible power of his imagination, unearths his stories from the primordial muck of his unconscious. He is an amazing talent.

 

Yes, he is a diamond in the rough character with a vernacular that may shock some readers, but when you get past the foul language and rough humor, you find sound ideas and knowledgable theory about the writing process ... a good read. Oh, and the guy has good taste in literature - his reading lists are full of good stuff - just sayin'.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When We Were the Kennedys - Monica Wood

Stepping into this book was like walking back in time to childhood ... Monica Wood describes, with such poignant detail, snapshots of a youth spent negotiating the sidewalks and classroom aisles of small town existence. In her case, life unfolded in a small factory town in northern New England. The circumstance of her memoir revolves around the year that her father died suddenly from a massive heart attack. Her life, during this time of grieving, is distilled in written form to remembrances and reflections on her mother, her uncle, her sisters, her school teachers, and her community and the way the fabric of her life flows and changes as life without her father becomes a routine and not the initial traumatic explosion in an otherwise normal morning. All this familial change and grieving occurs around the same time that the nation loses its beloved President Kennedy.

I loved Ms. Wood's power of description. She uses her words so effectively and brings scenes to life easily, without wasting words or rambling.

The Gallant ladies linger a bit, they speak kindly, they squeeze her hands, but this is the era before 'closure', before 'letting it all out', an era of private mourning. You don't say things out loud. Mum, a shell-shocked widow trying to find her footing, intends to keep her misery to herself.

She isn't sleeping. One night I wake with a start - everything eerily calm, Cathy asleep next to me, Betty asleep in her bunk, Anne, softly breathing, asleep in hers. I slip out of bed and listen: nothing. I crack open our bedroom door and find the kitchen empty, everything in silhouette: the table and chairs, the sewing machine, the birdcage. Nothing breathes; even the cats have vanished. Then I hear something - at least I think I do, a sound nearly eroded  from memory, something that might be a voice or a motion, or a thought.

Is it Dad? In there, in the parlor? One step, then another and I'm at the parlor doorway, peering in. I see a human shadow in the darkness. Blood rushes through my ears, I can no longer place the sound I either did or did not hear, and then the figure resolves into the motionless shape of my mother.

Standing in the center of the room, she fumbles with her nightgown as if she has just put it on. What is she doing? What time is it? I do not understand the thing to which I'm bearing witness: a widow awake in her too-small house, unwilling to return to her marriage bed. Like a spirit from the ghost  stories that she and Dad loved to tell, she haunts her own house at night, and as soon as it empties out in the morning she sleeps at last, borrowing beds that smell of her children.

She hears me. Turns. Her beautiful brown eyes meet me in the dark.

"Mumma?" I whisper.

She doesn't answer. I'm not positive she can see me. I've intruded on something adult and private, and so, not knowing what else to do, I retreat gently, as if backing away from a strange but benign-looking animal, my eyes fixed on hers. By morning it feels like a dream.

This is the first book that I've read by Monica Wood. I already have an order in at the library for an earlier novel called Any Bitter Thing. Savoring every page of When We Were the Kennedys, I can tell that I have 'found' a new favorite author.