Reading List by Jennie for November and December
I also read and reviewed Time and Again by Jack Finney.
Dracula by Bram Stoker
I wanted to try a classic “scary” read for Halloween (though I started Dracula too late and didn’t finish it until well into November). I was a little uncertain about reading this one, though – I’ve heard Bram Stoker criticized as an old-fashioned and dull writer. I wasn’t sure how well I’d relate to the book; like comedy, horror doesn’t always age well. But inherent in my quest to read classic literature is the understanding that I’m not going to like everything I read – for me it’s not just about reading for pleasure (as say, my romance reading is), but expanding my horizons and gaining culture and an understanding of literature throughout history. Anyway, I actually found Dracula surprisingly entertaining, readable and yes – scary. All the characters I’ve seen in films and television (often in vastly different interpretations) – Mina Harker, Jonathan Harker, Van Helsing and the Count himself – are fascinating to see in their original incarnations. It’s rather moving and effecting to realize, for instance, how soiled Mina feels after been targeted by Count Dracula. But it also makes perfect sense – she is a good Christian Victorian woman, and she has found herself defiled, in a sense, by an absolute monster. The heroic actions of her friends to try to save her were really very stirring. I’m very glad I gave Dracula a chance. My grade was an A-.
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Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by Caitlin Doughty
I first became aware of Doughty through her “Ask a Mortician” web series at Jezebel; I found her engaging and funny, and her subject matter compelling (it was here that I first heard of the practice of “Tibetan Sky Burial”, which I still find fascinating). I am as squeamish about death as the next gal; actually, probably more squeamish than many. But I suppose there’s an element of attraction/repulsion in my feelings on death and dead people, so I picked up this book, not without some trepidation. It’s both a memoir detailing how Doughty got into the mortician business, and a passionate avocation of her beliefs on how we deal with death and dying in modern-day America (and how we should change). The details of her work at a crematorium were both interesting and at times quite disturbing. But it was Doughty’s philosophical musings that bugged me more – I found her more preachy and judgmental than I recall her being in the web series, and it put me off. It’s one thing to believe that we’re too removed from the reality of death as a society – I can agree with that. Doughty champions the old ways of interacting with the dead: the family prepared the body and kept it at home until it was time for burial. One can idealize those times, but the fact is, those people didn’t have a choice, and today we do. Has it made death a sanitized and less meaningful process for some of us? Yes, probably in some ways, it has. At the same time I don’t agree that there’s something fundamentally wrong with people who can’t or simply don’t want to have such intimate contact with the dead bodies of their loved ones. While I understand Doughty having a strong perspective on these issues, I wish it had been leavened with more compassion and understanding for other viewpoints. I gave this a B-.
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A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
I picked this up as my “classic fiction” pick, right after I finished Dracula, wanting to actually read a Christmas book at Christmas-time. I *think* I’ve read this before, in high school, but I don’t remember for certain. It’s hard to say, because I’m so familiar with the story from stage and screen anyway (I watched two adaptions on Christmas Eve alone). Anyway, it really is a lovely story, if not terribly complex (there’s not a lot of explanation of how we get from Fezziwig’s happy-clerk-Scrooge to the, well, Scrooge-like Scrooge of later years), but as a redemption tale it’s wonderful, with just the right amount of treacle. I gave this an A.
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The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
I had heard about this book last year but hadn’t given it much thought until my sister read it and liked it, and then my aunt happened to buy it on a friend’s recommendation. I’m nothing if not pointlessly competitive, so if *they* were going to read it, gosh darn it, so would I. At its heart The Goldfinch is a bildungsroman. A quick Googling confirms that I’m not the only reader to see some superficial parallels to Great Expectations (speaking of Dickens). It opens in present-day Amsterdam, where 27-year-old Theo Decker is hiding out in a hotel room from some unspecified crime and a boatload of demons. The story then travels back to Theo as a 13-year-old in New York City, the day he loses his beloved mother to a random tragedy that he nonetheless blames himself for. In between the story details teenage years in Las Vegas, an awful father, a dysfunctional surrogate family, a lovable but neglectful mentor, antique furniture restoration, art theft, drugs (a LOT of drugs), PTSD, unrequited love, a crazy Ukrainian named Boris who becomes Theo’s best friend (and possibly his worst enemy, though Theo himself is in the running for that title) and probably a lot more I’m not thinking of right now (it’s a long book). I loved this story; Theo manages to retain his humanity and the reader’s sympathy through (a lot of) bad decisions. The Goldfinch has some improbable twists and turns, but then Dickens did, too. My grade was a straight A.
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The Duke of Dark Desires by Miranda Neville
Reviewed here. I can’t even talk about “historical malaise” anymore. I’m over it. I probably just shouldn’t read historical romances again for a few years (but I know I will). This was a good book that nonetheless kind of bored me. It didn’t help that I really didn’t like the hero that much; the whole “relentless try to seduce the help” shtick has gotten old and rather distasteful for me, I’m afraid. It took me a long time to read this book, and none of the events surprised me; they were all telegraphed well ahead of time. Neville is a good author, and I’ll try her again, but I wish that I could find something truly new and fresh in historical romance. My grade was a B-.
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A Drink Before War by Dennis Lehane
I really, really loved Lehane’s The Given Day and liked its sequel, Live By Night, quite well. I have also enjoyed several of the film adaptations of Lehane’s work, particularly Mystic River (though enjoyed may not be the right word for such a grim movie). This was Lehane’s first book and the first in the Patrick Kenzie/Angie Gennaro mystery series (the film Gone, Baby, Gone – also a good one – was made from a later book in the series). I liked A Drink Before War, but didn’t love it. It was compelling; I finished it in about two days, which is quick for me. But I was surprised by how unnuanced and at times even unsophisticated it was in its views on good and evil. Moral ambiguity is a central theme in the other books I’ve read by Lehane, so the black-and-whiteness of the world presented here was a surprise to me. I think Lehane has grown quite a bit as a writer since A Drink Before War. I gave it a B.
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Liar Temptress Soldier Spy by Karen Abbott
I had run out of non-fiction to read and picked this up partly because it had a recommendation from Erik Larson (I love Erik Larson’s writing). The story follows four women during the American Civil War, two who supported the Union and two the Confederacy. Emma Edmondson chose to show her support for the Union (and avoid an unwanted marriage) by disguising herself as a man and joining the Union army. Elizabeth Van Lew was a wealthy spinster of Richmond, considered eccentric and later despised by her neighbors for her Union sympathies (and they didn’t even know how active she was, from spying to hiding escaped Union soldiers in her mansion). Widow Rose Greenow had a reputation in Washington, D.C. for cultivating wealthy and powerful men (since it was Washington, this meant politicians); once the war began she used her wiles to spy for the Confederacy. Belle Boyd was a 17-year-old Southern belle, enamored of herself and desperate for the glory she could obtain by being a heroine for the Confederate cause. Abbott does a fairly good job of balancing the story and portraying each woman’s strengths and weaknesses honestly (though I couldn’t help but wonder if there were more to Edmondson’s decision to live as a man; the possibility that she was transgender is not examined). I will say that Edmondson and Van Lew were vastly more sympathetic as characters, and not just because they were supporting the morally righteous side. Both have a martyrish fervor that is at times slightly off-putting, but it’s nothing compared to Greenow’s arrogance and virulent racism, or Boyd’s enormous ego and self-absorption (and the racism there, too). At times the book was unpleasant to read simply because Greenow (and Boyd to a lesser extend) was so unlikable. Still, I would give this book a B+ and will be seeking out the author’s backlist.
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I read Lehane’s second book, DARKNESS, TAKE MY HAND, years ago and clearly remember holding my breath through the entire experience. I don’t know if it would work as well today and I don’t want to lose that memory of almost unbearable tension by reading it again. It remains my favorite of his PI series.
So Doughty thinks we should all lay out Grandpa in the front parlor? Sorry, I love my relatives, I truly do. But I don’t want their dead bodies in my house until they’re buried.
I grew up in a religion in which it is traditional to kiss the cheek of your deceased loved one at the end of the viewing, a last goodbye, as it were. It is very difficult. Very.
But it is also very enlightening about death to do so – it is a distinct moment, the kiss on the cheek, when you know that the corporal body is but a husk going to become dust and the soul has departed – I understand why the tradition survives. But, wow, is it hard. Harder to do the older I get, by the way. I don’t know why in my 20s it was doable, but in my 40s I can’t bear it.
I wouldn’t want to lay out a body at home, but I have listened to family members talk about people who were laid out at home in the old days, and shared the memory of those times – sure in those days it was because there wasn’t another place, but it also does engrave the moment in memory more than events at a generic funeral home do. I don’t even remember the funeral homes – just the last kiss, and maybe a few jumbled memories about other people I talked with – but I could imagine that if the visitation had been in a living room, I would remember it all more clearly.
Still, I don’t think I need to read more about funerals…. trying to avoid the thought for a while.
We brought my dad home when he died, and while I’ve no other family death to compare it with, I’d do it again. People wandered in and out as they needed to, and we talked, and the children played on the floor, and – given that my dad’s death was relatively sudden – it let us adjust to the idea that he’d gone. I’ve a really happy memory from late on the night before the funeral, when I was sitting in the corner of the room quietly reading by lamplight, and my husband came in, and without noticing I was there, very naturally kissed him goodbye on the forehead.
The only strange thing about it was that it wasn’t in the least strange or macabre – it was a great comfort.
I have given explicit instruction to my children that upon death, everything usable is to be harvested from my body; if for some reason (e.g. cancer) my tissues are unsuitable for transplant, my body is to be donated to medical school for student dissections.
Tough to carry those wishes out from the front parlor.
Very interesting selection of books, Jennie. Some of these I already own/have read, but I’m definitely adding the Abbott and Doughty books to the list.
@hapax: I don’t know where you’re located, many med schools in North America and Europe no longer teach by full-body dissection but are relying increasingly on models, computer programs, etc. The switch has been a matter of some contention–I think time was a key factor because dissection is very time-consuming and schools wanted to use those hours on other areas. Also, several years ago, cadaver donation skyrocketed in Germany because it was a way to save on funeral costs in a tough economic climate. Medical/research institutions started limiting the numbers of cadavers they were accepting, and basically cherry-picked for the “good” specimens. (I certainly wouldn’t have made the cut. yuk yuk.)
I’ve stated my preference in my will, but have not made it mandatory. Once I’m dead, it’s no longer about me. I want my survivors to do whatever they’re most comfortable with.
People should do whatever suits their beliefs and situation without feeling (any more) bad about it. Having the body at home? That’s just not practical for many people. When my father died, we had an open-casket viewing because why? Not sure, but there were hundreds of people there and they seemed to want to be able to see him and say goodbye. (And the church and graveside services were packed, with literal bus-loads of folks coming.) For my mother, I had a brief memorial service with no casket for her friends/community and then an even briefer family-only graveside service. Mom had said she didn’t like being the center of attention when she was alive, and she didn’t want it when she was dead, either.
@Susan: “many med schools in North America and Europe no longer teach by full-body dissection but are relying increasingly on models, computer programs, etc. ”
I don’t want to derail this thread, but with a spouse who taught Gross Anatomy in med school I find this trend *appalling*. Would you take your car to a mechanic who said, “Hey, I’ve never looked at any real car engines, but I’m an absolute beast at Grand Theft Auto”?
Same principal applies with physicians.
@hapax: Totally agree. Plus, I think it’s important for doctors to remember that they’re dealing with human beings and not just solving some abstract puzzle. Working on a patient, even if they are a dead patient, demands a certain level of respect that may be absent with computer models. (If this makes sense.)
As you can tell, I find this whole subject fascinating and am really eager to read the Doughty book. I’m glad Jennie brought it to my notice here. You never know what you’re going to come across on DA!
@Jayne: I don’t think she specifically advocated for that; it was just part of her general screed about how removed we are from death and how we need rituals in order to mourn (I guess? I’m not sure that I ever got what negative result she felt we were suffering as a society for our discomfort with death and the dead).
@Anna Richland: When my mother died (at home) we were waiting for the funeral home folks to come take her away for about an hour or two. We sat with her for a little bit but at one point I was in the room with her and touched her face and wanted to kiss her cheek but I couldn’t bring myself to. The difference in how she felt was so visceral and real – I don’t want to say I was repelled, it wasn’t like that – but while I understand how people can feel affection for the husks of the people they love so much, I also understand the feeling of horror when you know irrevocably that the person isn’t in there any more.
@Marianne McA: And I think that’s great – I do admire that level of comfort with death. I just don’t think it’s the only right way; I think the discomfort some people feel in dealing with dead bodies is normal and natural too, and not necessarily a sign that something’s wrong or that they’re not mourning the “right” way.
@Jennie – I’d agree a hundred percent. Actually the most difficult thing – not that people were difficult – was trying to make sure we didn’t make decisions that were right for some people but not for others. (My eldest daughter astutely remarked that we all talked like politicians at that point.)
I think our experience happened to be the reverse of yours – my dad died in intensive care in hospital after a very short, unexpected illness – so having him back allowed us to process the reality of the situation, almost because of the husk not being the person. So for us, it was helpful. And I had a fear of burial, due to a Latin teacher who inadvisably read us Poe at an impressionable age, so it was also personally helpful to me in that I was absolutely certain by the time of the funeral that we weren’t burying my father, just his remains.
(Perhaps it’s odd, but we did all get more than used to the body, we were sort of growing attached – going in and having little conversations, sitting and keeping it company – I remember thinking that there’s a reason for the three day death to funeral convention – it was long enough for acceptance, but any longer and we’d have downright adapted.)
Anyway, I’m absolutely not saying it’s for everyone, and I’m sorry if it came across that way. Just, I wouldn’t have chosen to have him home, I don’t think, if my mum (and dad) hadn’t regarded it as the normal thing to do, because I couldn’t have imagined what it would be like. I think that’s what I’m trying to say – not that it’s the right thing to do, but that it can be a right thing to do, and even though it was certainly cramped and chaotic – we’d three families sleeping in four bedrooms and a coffin in the living room – you manage.
@Marianne McA: Oh, I didn’t take it as you saying it was the right thing to do – just one choice (which I think is totally valid).
I felt like seeing both of my parents pass did ease the mystery of death for me a bit. But whatever brief period of comfort I had with the whole thing didn’t stick. If I go to a funeral and there is an open casket, I stay far, far away from it.
I highly recommend Karen Abbott- Sin in the Second City was a fascinating book, and made me realize that I really enjoyed that style of narrative, engrossing historical non-fiction. Thanks for bringing her latest to my attention!