Reading for the Summer Solstice

 

Pillars of the Earth, the first work of historical fiction I read by Ken Follett, made my short list of favorite books ever. I know it must have been at least twenty years since I read it--probably longer--but I still recall specific details from the fictional town and the building of the cathedral with great clarity. I have since read other books from that series and from his century series as well. This month, though, I came across Circle of Days, set before the time of Pillars of the Earth. Although the name Stonehenge is never mentioned, the story moves toward the building of a stone structure to replace the vulnerable wooden columns used to mark the passage of time in ceremonial rites conducted quarterly by a group of priestesses. 

Coming together are the disparate groups living in proximity--sometimes peaceably, sometimes so much: the herders, farmers, woods people (hunters and gatherers), and flint miners. Follett has a knack for characterization--good and evil, selfish and selfless, competitive and cooperative. He also has no compunctions about killing off characters and breaking my heart. 

Whether his characters are moving impossibly huge stones or building by hand a cathedral, Follett is nothing short of convincing. I almost think I could use his novels as a handbook to carry out my own building projects. 

One aspect I found interesting, even amusing, was the idea of a time when people were limited in their understanding of numbers, counting by how their fingers and toes. Giving names to numbers--particularly concepts such as a hundred or a thousand--was still baffling to most.

In this book in particular, Follett has strong female characters in each social group. They often have to face off against the men in their communities as well as their enemies. 

Before reading this book, I was always satisfied with the Arthurian explanation for the existence of Stonehenge: Merlin floated the stones from his place of origin. He didn't make an appearance in this story, so I will have to be satisfied with an alternative explanation. Maybe now Follett can tackle the building of the pyramids.

Reading for the Summer Solstice

It Happened on a Train: Summer Reading

Summer, for me, is a marathon reading experience. I maintain a list of books I want to read next, but the list grows and changes. I certainly don't go in any kind of order. In fact, sometimes a book presents itself out of the blue. 

This summer, I saved the "Summer Reading Bucket List" from the Next York Times Book Review earlier this month. Rather than helping me choose books, I use it to mark those I've read that fit the criteria. As a result, though, the selections vary widely. Nevertheless, I am always amused to see the threads that tie my reading together.

Most recently, I read Emma Donoghue's novel The Paris Express, a departure from other books by her I've read--particularly Room, which haunts me still, and Frog Music. This novel follows an ensemble cast of characters heading on a train toward Paris. There is an American artist, a young woman studying medicine, a woman who goes into labor, a young boy traveling alone, employees of the railroad, and a young woman who plans to celebrate her twenty-first birthday by blowing up the train, particularly when she is assured there will be three members of Parliament aboard before they read their destination. 

I'm reminded of Ann Patchett's suggestions that all of her books follow the formula of Canterbury Tales: Take people from different walks of life, put them together, and see what happens.  Based on an actual train disaster in 1895, the author explores the political climate in France as well as some of the fears tied to time and speed. 

The next book I picked up, eager to read it as soon as it was available, was Fredrik Backman's latest book My Friends. (So I get to check off "Read a book in translation.) If both these novels were made into movies, the same actress might be cast in both. In Backman's book, Louisa has just fled her group home on the day before her eighteenth birthday, still grieving the loss of her only friend there. 

She slips into an art exhibit to see a painting that has fascinated her most of her life, since she first saw it reproduced on a postcard she carries with her. Suspected of planning to deface the painting, she escapes into an alley, where she encounters what at first appears to be a homeless vagrant. He is The Artist (as he is called for most of the book). Near death, he commissions Ted, one of his childhood friends to take his life savings to buy back the painting. Then he tells him to give it to Louisa. 

The gift is too much for her. Though Ted is least equipped to deal with the socially awkward teenager, the two end up riding together on a train toward the seaside town and the pier depicted in the painting. They carry the painting and The Artist's ashes, and the back story unfolds. Louisa has to remind Ted that while the story is an old one for him, it is happening in the moment for her.

Anyone familiar with Backman knows that while his stories vary, his skill at developing quirky, engaging characters is a constant. He explores similar themes: the power of love and friendship, friends that are family, with some of the most lovable curmudgeons. Even the minor characters, both the heroes and the villains, come to life.

Maybe what I need is a long, slow train trip with a big bag of books.

It Happened on a Train: Summer Reading

More Reasons to Love Historical Fiction

 

My reading this summer has been as eclectic as ever, but I find that when asked to recommend a book to someone, I often turn first to historical fiction. Often I am not sure until I finish and read the author's notes whether the story is based on fact. A good story can stand on its own, after all, but the historical basis gives me a good excuse to do a little digging.

One such novel I particularly enjoyed is Lynda Rutledge's West with Giraffes, a journey tale in the spirit of Towles' The Lincoln Highway or Krueger's This Tender Land--or Twain's Huckleberry Finn. Set during the Dust Bowl, with a frame story in the near future, this is the story of Woodrow Wilson "Woody" Nickels, who as a boy left his Texas home after losing his family, victims of the Dust Bowl. He makes his way to New York to find a cousin about the time a hurricane hits the area. 

At the same time, two giraffes on their way to the San Diego Zoo are caught in the hurricane, which injures the female "Girl." Woody, at not quite sixteen, convinces the zoo employee charged with taking the exotic beasts across the continent in a rickety truck that he is capable of driving them. Rutledge also introduces a female photographer desperate to publish her photos and stories of the trip--one of many items on her bucket list--who follows the truck and strikes up a friendship with Woody.

In the frame story, Woody at 105 lives in a nursing home where he fantasizes images of the giraffes peering in his window while he works desperately to write his story before his time runs out. 

Even without the historical basis, Rutledge weaves a compelling story. Background details (and photographs) of the giraffes en route, as well as details about the iconic Belle Benchley, the zoo's first female director, accessible online, add to the story's charm.

When I heard Luis Alberto Urrea had a new book, I was eager to read it, having thoroughly enjoyed his novel The House of Broken Angels. One thing that struck me about the earlier novel was his convincing portrayal of his female characters. 

In Good Night, Irene, Urrea draws from his own mother's experience as a "Doughnut Dolly" working for the Red Cross about a Clubmobile during World War II. The title character Irene is a city girl who leaves behind a wealthy but abusive fiancé to join the war effort. She is paired with Dorothy, strong-willed and sharp-witted Midwesterner. 

Rather than staying back out of harm's way, the women follow the troops through France after D-Day, often witnessing horrific warfare at risk to their own lives. While Urrea includes a cast of characters, these two friends are central to the story, and they are evidence of the author's skill at characterization.

Again, the author's notes that follow the narrative explain how much of the story was inspired by Urrea's mother's story, offering a glimpse into one of the rarely highlighted roles in keeping up the spirits of the troops. With Urrea's skill at taking inspiration from his own family experiences, his readers will hope he has a vast well of stories from which to draw for his next novels. 

More Reasons to Love Historical Fiction