Worth Dying For, by Lee Child

So, after finishing Looking for Alaska by John Green on August 31, I started the next Jack Reacher novel, Worth Dying For, by Lee Child on September 2 and finished it on September 13.  As with all of the other Jack Reacher novels, this one didn't disappoint.  Lee Child has a very successful recipe for his Reacher books, but does throw in a few unexpected elements every now and again.  It's like adding in a pinch of a new spice into the recipe.  The recipe is tried and true and is super tasty, but adding in a pinch of something new adds a little bit of unexpected taste and texture to something that is already good.

It still perplexes me to no end at the casting of Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher.  It defies logic and completely contradicts the main characteristics of Jack Reacher - mainly being a very large and tall man - which Tom Cruise is decidedly not.  I am not the only one who feels this way.  One person suggested Channing Tatum could be Reacher.  I'm not sold on that, but I really don't have a concrete suggestion about who could be a fit for Reacher.  Hugh Jackman?  Joe Manganiello?  The Rock?  There seem to be a lot of suggestions out there some I agree with, some not (no no no Brad Pitt, Ben Afflek, Liam Neeson).  Regardless, Tom Cruise was cast, and one article I found (from about a year ago) mentioned that another Jack Reacher movie was in the works with Tom as Jack.  I found a few others that also mention a Jack Reacher 2 being made...  We'll see how that one turns out.

Let's talk about Worth Dying For.  It's good.  Read it.  The end.

Just kidding.  Worth Dying For, shows us another side of Jack Reacher - a physically impaired, hurting Jack Reacher.  This book picks up immediately after 61 Hours ends.  Reacher is leaving the wintery South Dakota town after protecting the old lady witness (and not getting a girl), and ends up in a small wintery Nebraska town while trying to make his way to Virgina to see about a girl.  This small Nebraska town is super small, as in everyone knows everyone, and some of the townfolk even have an emergency secret phone tree (that turns out is not so secret after all).

A small family of men, the Duncans, "run" this town and the residents of the town are fearful of this family because of events that took place 25 years ago.  The Duncans came to run the crop shipping business in their farming town, and the residents who have disputes with the Duncans or wish to not use the Duncans to haul their harvests end up with rotting harvests sitting on their farms.  Not a great situation, but there doesn't seem to be much the residents can or are willing to do about it.  

But wait, Reacher is there - so the Duncans better beware...  As usual, Reacher ends up involved in town business and going off to do his own investigation on the historical event that transpired.  There seem to be other things at play in this town in addition to the harvest-hauling monopoly-racket the Duncans have going on.  The Duncans are wrapped up in some kind of trouble involving Italian, and Middle-Eastern customers from Vegas.  Apparently what happens in Vegas doesn't really stay there.

So, with Reacher poking his nose around in things that have nothing to do with him, a number of things get wrapped up together that ordinarily would have nothing to do with one another.  Two Italian hit men are looking for Reacher.  And two different sets of 2 Middle-Eastern hit men are looking out for the Italians, the other set of Middle-Eastern men, and for Reacher.  

     "...Got a description?" 

     "Big guy, blue eyes, white, six-five, two-fifty, brown coat." 

     Mahmeini's man said, "That's worthless.  This is America.  This is farm country.  It's full of settlers and peasants.  They all look like that.  I mean, we just saw a guy exactly like that." 

     Safir's guy said, "He's right.  We saw one too.  We're going to need a much better description." 

     Cassano said, "We don't have one.  But it will be easier when we get up there.  Reacher stands out, apparently.  And the local population is prepared to help us.  They've been told to phone in with sightings.  And there's no cover up there." 

     Mahmeini's man said, "So where is he hiding out?" 

     "We don't know.  There's a motel, but he's not in it.  Maybe he's sleeping rough." 

     "In this weather?  Is that likely?" 

     "There are sheds and barns.  I'm sure we'll find him." 

     "And then what?" 

     "We put him down." 

     "Risky." 

     "I know.  He's tough.  So far he's taken out four of the local people." 

     Mahmeini's man said, "I don't care how tough he thinks he is.  And I don't care how many local people he's taken out either.  Because I'm sure they're all idiots up there.  I mean it's risky because this isn't the Wild West anymore.  Do we have a safe exit strategy?" 

     Cassano said, "They tell me he's kind of a hobo so nobody is going to miss him.  There's not even going to be an investigation.  There aren't even any cops up there."

As per the usual recipe, Reacher pokes around, investigates some, theorizes some, and draws upon his MP experience to help him figure things out.  And, as per the usual recipe, Reacher gets captured by the bad guys - in this case, the Duncans.

     Reacher has been fighting since he was five years old, and he had never had his nose broken.  Not even once.  Partly good luck, and partly good management.  Plenty of people had tried, over the years, either deliberately or in a flurry of savage unaimed blows, but none had ever succeeded.  Not one.  Not ever.  Not even close.  It was a fact Reacher was proud of, in a peculiar way.  It was a symbol.  A talisman.  A badge of honor.  He had all kinds of nicks and cuts and scars on his face and his arms and his body, but he felt that the distinctive but intact bone in his nose made up for them...

      The blow came in exactly as he expected it to, a clenched fist, a straight right, hard and heavy, riding up a little, aiming high, as if Duncan subconsciously expected Reacher to flinch up and back...  But Reacher didn't flinch up and back.  He started with his head up and back, his eyes open, watching down his nose, timing it, then jerking forward from the neck, smashing a perfect improvised head butt straight into Duncan's knuckles, an instant high-speed high-impact collision between the thick ridge in Reacher's brow and the delicate bones in Duncan's hand.  No contest.  No contest at all...  Duncan screamed and snatched his hand away and cradled it limp against his chest and hopped a whole yowling circle, looking up, looking down, stunned and whimpering...

     "Asshole," Reacher said.

In yet another skirmish Reacher kicked ass and took names.  (An aside here - for the past six months or so, I've been taking a self defense class and learning a variety of defense and offense techniques - JKD, Kali, Silat, Thai Boxing, Wing Chun, and more) to defend myself against a theoretical (hopefully) attacker.  These classes have been SUPER fun and SUPER empowering, and I've loved every minute of them.  It is amazing how good it feels to punch, kick, flip, stomp, and disarm - though I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the punching, kicking, flipping, stomping, and disarming.  I have a new appreciation for the MMA and Martial Arts fighters I see as I'm flipping channels on TV, and it is cool to watch a Jason Bourne movie and know what style of fighting he's using - JKD, Kali - and be able to do some of the things he's done, albeit not as fast or fancy.  So, reading about Jack Reacher's fights in the book, I can actually picture what he's doing, how he's doing it, how he sets up for his moves, and how it impacts the opponents because I've done it in class.) 

     His shoulder was moving because he was already driving hard off his back foot, jerking forward, twisting at the waist, building torque, hurling his right elbow into the gap created by turning the guy counterclockwise an inch, aiming to hit him with the elbow right on the outer edge of his left eye socket, hoping to crack his skull along the line of his temple.  No rules.  The blow landed with all 250 pounds of moving mass behind it, a solid jarring impact Reacher felt all the way down to his toes.  The guy staggered back.  He stayed on his feet.  Evidently his skull hadn't cracked, but he was feeling it.  He was feeling it bad, and his mouth was opening, ready to howl, so Reacher shut it again for him with a vicious uppercut under the chin, convulsive, far from elegant, but effective.  The guy's head snapped back in a mist of blood and bounced forward again off his massive deltoids and Reacher tried for his other eye socket with his left elbow, a ferocious in-and-out snap from the waist, and then he put a forearm smash from the right into the guy's throat, a real home run swing, and then he kneed him in the groin, and danced behind him and kicked him hard in the back of the knees, a sweeping scything action, so that the guy's legs folded up under him and he went down heavily on his back on the path.

     Six blows, three seconds.

     No rules. 

Reacher is kicking ass and taking names.  He's not really taking names though - just kicking ass.  He does a lot of ass kicking (same dependable recipe does it every time).  At the end of the book after much ass kicking, solving the mystery, and ridding the town of the Duncans, one of the good townsfolk asks Reacher where he is heading next.

     They drove the first ten miles in silence.  Then they passed the abandoned roadhouse and the two-lane speared onward and empty ahead of them and Dorothy asked, "What's in Virginia?"

     "A woman," Reacher said. 

     "Your girlfriend?"

     "Someone I talked to on the phone, that's all..."

If you are in need of some mind candy, an easy, entertaining read, with ass kicking, violence, and Reacher - pick this one up.  You'll appreciate the vulnerable Reacher (and how he became that way) if you read 61 Hours.  But if you haven't read that one, you'll still enjoy this book.  I'm looking forward to the next one to see what happens with this girl, as this is the 2nd book in a row where Reacher hasn't gotten the girl.  Is he losing his touch?  Somehow I don't think so...

Looking for Alaska, by John Green

So, after finishing The Enchantress: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, by Michael Scott on August 9, I picked up Looking for Alaska, by John Green.  I started this one on August 9 and finished it on August 31.  One of my colleagues at work brought in a bunch of books she read and was finished with, and recommended this one.  I read one of John Green's other books, The Fault in Our Stars, way back in January of 2014 and loved it.  There was a movie out recently based on a book by John Green called Paper Towns, and I think that I thought this book was that movie, but it wasn't.

Looking for Alaska tells the story of Miles, an unpopular high school student in Florida who decides he wants to go away to boarding school in Alabama - the boarding school his father attended.  Miles' parents throw him a going away party, and his fear that no one will show up basically comes true.  So, he goes off to Alabama to seek the "Great Perhaps."  What is the "Great Perhaps," you might ask?  Well it is a famous last word of poet Francois Rabelais.  Miles is obsessed with famous last words.

He arrives at school, where it is hot and humid with no air conditioning anywhere, and meets his new roommate, Chip, aka the Colonel.  Miles quickly gets a nickname of his own "Pudge", and a hazing (that goes a little too far) at the hands of the local rich kids, known as the Weekday Warriors.  They are at Culver Creek (aka "The Creek") during the week, then they go home during the weekends.  The Colonel and his merry band of trickster friends take Miles in and go about showing him the ropes at The Creek.  The band of tricksters quickly become Miles' friends.

One of this band of tricksters is a girl named Alaska.  You'll learn how she got that name if you read the book.  Alaska is an enigma, a breath of fresh air, a train-wreck you can't avert your eyes from, a huge ball of energy, a hard nut to crack, a moody and unpredictable girl, and she steals Miles' heart without even trying.  Miles, the Colonel, Alaska, and the merry band of tricksters drink, smoke, make out, and plan elaborate pranks during their time at the Creek.

     The final exam: What is the most important question human beings must answer?  Choose your question wisely, and then examine how Islam, Buddhism, and Christianity attempt to answer it. 

     "I hope that poor bastard lives the rest of the school year," the Colonel said as we jogged home through the rain, "because I'm sure starting to enjoy that class.  What's your most important question?" 

     After thirty seconds of running, I was already winded.  "What happens...to us...when we die?"

     "Christ, Pudge, if you don't stop running, you're going to find out."  He slowed to a walk.  "My question is: Why do good people get rotten lots in life?  Holy shit, is that Alaska?"

     She was running at us full speed, and she was screaming, but I couldn't hear her over the pounding rain until she was so close to us that I could see her spit flying.

     "The fuckers flooded my room.  They ruined like a hundred of my books!  Goddamned pissant Weekday Warrior shit.  Colonel, they poked a hole in the gutter and connected a plastic tube from the gutter down through my back window into my room!  The whole place is soaking wet.  My copy of The General in His Labyrinth is absolutely ruined." 

     "That's pretty good," The Colonel said, like an artist admiring another's work.

     "Hey!" she shouted. 

     "Sorry.  Don't worry, dude," he said.  "God will punish the wicked. And before He does, we will."

Thus begins the planning of the prank to end all pranks.   

     "I've got an idea," she said.  "It's great.  What we need is a pre-prank that coincides with an attack on Kevin [one of the Weekday Warriors] and his minions," she said.

     I was sitting on the bed, reading the textbook in preparation for my American history exam the next day. 

    "A pre-prank?" I asked.

    "A prank designed to lull the administration into a false sense of security," the Colonel answered, annoyed by the distraction.  "After the pre-prank, the Eagle will think the junior class has done its prank and won't be waiting for it when it actually comes."  Every year, the junior and senior classes pulled off a prank at some point in the year - usually something lame, like Roman candles in the dorm circle at five in the morning on a Sunday.

     "Is there always a pre-prank?" I asked. 

     "No, you idiot," the Colonel said.  "If there was always a pre-prank, then the Eagle would expect two pranks.  The last time a pre-prank was used--hmm.  Oh right: 1987.  When the pre-prank was cutting off electricity to campus, and then the actual prank was putting five hundred live crickets in the heating ducts of the classrooms.  Sometimes you can still hear the chirping."

You'll learn all about the prank planning, the prank itself, (parts of it were hilarious) and a host of other things, including a goose biting someone in the ass.  John Green is great at developing his characters and inviting you into their lives, their thoughts, and their worlds.  You can feel as if you really know these people, and you can envision the scenes he writes.  The book reminds me a little of the Breakfast Club (circa 1985).  If you've seen that movie, and you read this book, you'll see what I mean (hopefully).  If you haven't seen that movie, it's worth a watch.  The theme song seems to fit this book too - Don't You Forget About Me.

Shrinkage, by Bryan Bishop

So, I am a little backed up on my book blogging - so tonight is a double post.  After finishing 61 Hours, by Lee Child, the Husband gave me Shrinkage by Bryan Bishop.  This is another of the books that he thinks will give me an insight into him and his life.  I started Shrinkage on February 1 and finished it this morning, February 21.  The Husband has given me a few other books to read that he thinks give me insight into who he is:  The Fault In Our Stars, Angry Black White Boy, and now Shrinkage.

The Husband is a huge fan of Adam Carolla, and Bryan Bishop (aka Bald Bryan) is a part of Carolla's podcast.  Bishop is also a cancer fighter/survivor just like the Husband.  The Husband is a 3-time cancer survivor, and is very involved in patient advocacy and the cancer world (he is a facilitator for a local young adult cancer support group for cancer fighters and caregivers).  He gives a lot of his time and energy to this cause, and thought this book could give me some additional insight into his life's story and how/why he behaves and reacts certain ways in certain situations.

Bishop has brain cancer - a tumor - that greatly impacted his life.  This book details the trials and travails of his ordeal - all while he is in the process of marrying the love of his life, Christie.  You hear about cancer all the time, but these first person narratives of how life really is when dealing with cancer are all the more insightful.  I think non-cancer-affected people think they can imagine how horrible an ordeal it is, but they (and me) have no idea of what it is really like.  Bishop does a great job of detailing (yes, all of the gory details - including crapping himself and having Christie clean him up) everything - the good, the bad, the hopeless, the miraculous.

Cancer fucking sucks - I am hard pressed to think of anyone that I know who hasn't been touched by cancer in some way (whether as a person diagnosed with cancer or as a caregiver or as a friend or relative of someone who has or had cancer).  Too many people have had to deal with this disease and the devastation it can leave in its wake.  Thankfully (THANKFULLY), the Husband is happy and healthy now, and thankfully my dad survived his cancer, thankfully my good friend K. survived her cancer.  New people are diagnosed every single day.  I learned recently via FaceBook that an acquaintance who is basically my age was just diagnosed with cervical cancer.  It is everywhere.

But what do we, as non-cancer diagnosed people really know about what it is like to go through this ordeal?  We know nothing.  I think it is difficult for those with a cancer diagnosis to really talk about it - they lived it, and probably don't want to relive it by talking about it all the time.  So books like Bishop's can really help us gain more insight into the hell and torture people have gone through.  A few times when I talked with my friend K. about her cancer, she ended up in tears, and never really opened up about anything, not that I really expected her to.  The last time this happened was about a year or so ago and we were out to dinner to catch up.  K. and I used to work together and see each other regularly - but through job changes, divorces, marriages, and moves, we didn't see each other quite so often.  At this meeting, over dinner we were catching up and talking about things.  She asked how the Husband was and I mentioned that he was going to a summer camp for young adult cancer fighters and survivors for kayaking, I asked if she was interested in anything like that or if she had sought out any support groups or anything when she was going through treatment.  She hadn't.  I told her she deserved to have an outlet to talk about things with like-minded people - at this point she cried a little.  I told her it seemed to me that she went through treatment without really going through treatment - she worked the whole time, didn't take a day off.  She went through life like nothing was wrong.  Of course, that is her prerogative, but it seems to me that going through something like that, that you might need a little help and that there are a lot of places that could help her.  She agreed, and then we promptly dropped the subject.  K. is a very strong woman working in a male-dominated field and I think she feels she can't show her vulnerabilities out of fear of being seen as weak.

Bishop details the help he needed throughout his book - as his treatment went on (radiation and chemotherapy), his life steadily went downhill - his walking suffered, his speech suffered, he was exhausted, he needed full time care and couldn't be left alone. At one point he couldn't walk, he was a fall risk, and could barely speak.  This was humbling for him because he relied on Christie 100% to help him with literally everything.  His treatment was rough, and his recovery from treatment was even rougher.  Caring for Bishop was extremely difficult for Christie as well - she ended up hospitalized for several days with colitis induced by exhaustion and stress.

In one particular chapter, Bishop wrote about how his cancer and treatment affected his relationship with his parents.  This gave me a lot of insight into the Husband's relationship with his parents, and also with me.  Bishop wrote about how he had to filter what he told his parents about his treatments, his doctor appointments, his test results, and his recovery.  He didn't outright lie to them, but also wasn't 100% honest with him either.  This has been something that the Husband and I have talked about a lot relative to his doctor appointments and his health.  He doesn't want to tell me anything until there is something to tell because he doesn't want me to worry.  I don't want to be kept in the dark unless I am completely left in the dark.  I know that may not make complete sense - here's an example.  If the Husband tells me he has a doctor appointment to check on one thing or the other, and then when I ask him about the appointment and he is vague in his response, I know he is keeping something from me and want to know what it is.  He'll be evasive and non-specific in how he answers my questions about the test result or follow-up, then I know or imagine something is worse then he is telling me.  So when I say it would be better for me to be completely in the dark - I mean that if he is having an appointment for something then if he can't or won't share it all with me then I'd want him to share nothing with me (not even tell me about the appointment) until there is something to share - like a clean bill of health or something wrong.  This is an ongoing discussion we have - how much he should tell me and when.  It is a fine line between outright lying to me and keeping me in the dark until there is something to tell.

After reading books like Bishop's, I think I might "get it" a tiny little bit more.  I also think I have a tiny bit more of an understanding of how and why the Husband is the way he is, about why he panics a little before every appointment with his doctors, about why he is diligent with his health maintenance, and about why he might want to keep me in the dark.  Cancer is a big, evil, scary, terror-inducing thing, and why expose more people than absolutely necessary to how horrific it really is?  But from a caregiver / loved-one point of view, we just want to make things a little nicer, easier, less horrific for those dealing with it.  I think it is a double-edged sword and a lose-lose situation - the person with cancer doesn't want to inflict their hell on anyone else so retreats into their own private hell.  And loved ones want to ease the situation for the person with cancer so they smother the person with love and attention.  As you can imagine, things can spiral downhill from there.

Where is the happy medium?  I think that after reading Bishop's book and knowing the Husband and his history, those in the loved-one / care giver role need to take direction from the person with cancer - let that person tell you what they need, how and when they need it, and when they need you to leave them alone.  I imagine there is a tremendous amount of contemplation and thought processing going on and they need space to do it in.  They know we love them and are there for them, but they need to be in the driver's seat and steer the car towards what they need at that particular time and place.  We have no real idea of what they are going through so we need to leave it to them to tell us in their own way and in their own time.  Easier said then done.

This book is funny and sad, insightful and honest.  I'm glad I read it, and I'm glad the Husband shared it with me.  When I finished it this morning, we had a short talk about the book and what I took away from it.  Then we kissed and got up to start our day.  

ps - after the Husband read this before I published it, he pulled out his phone and told me about his dentist appointment next week, his bi-annual skin check in April, all with a sly little grin and laugh on his face.  I still love him.

The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green

So, my husband reads probably more than I do - which is already a lot.  He reads all kinds of magazines -  the "articles" in Playboy and Maxim, he gets workout pointers from Men's Health, and stays up to date with articles in Cure Magazine, among others.  He reads a large smattering of websites - TMZ, ESPN, and various news and entertainment sites.  He likes to stay current with the people he follows on Instagram and FaceBook.  

And, he loves books - all kinds of books.  Every week on our grocery shopping trip to Costco, we have to stop by the book section to see if there is anything we want - there usually is.  He also makes good use of his Amazon Prime account.  Our bookcases are overflowing (literally) with books.  I'm to the point where I want to reinstate my Library Card rule - get a library card and check out books rather than buying them so we don't have to find more room to store them.  I'm not (yet) into buying books for an e-reader.  I treasure the feel of an actual book with actual pages in my hand.  I'm not sure that will ever fade.

A while back, he read The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green.  I asked him what it was about, and gave me a brief synopsis.  It didn't immediately peak my interest.  One day when he was close to finishing it, I observed him wiping his eyes.  He wasn't crying, he insists.  He just had something in his eye.  A lot of somethings.  When he did finish the book, he gave it to me and asked me to read it.  I said, "Yeah, yeah..." and put it in my pile by my night stand, and moved on to another book.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.  I had just finished a Jack Reacher book (by Lee Child) and wanted the next in the series.  Husband said he would give it to me after I read The Fault in Our Stars.  Somewhat unenthusiastically, I picked it up and started it that night.  And about a week later finished it.  IT WAS SO GOOD!  I absolutely loved it.

The characters are rich and layered and seemed entirely relatable and real.  Now, I'm not going to spoil the book for those who want to read it, but this book is about young adults with cancer.  My husband is a 3-time cancer survivor and is a stereotypical man who doesn't talk about "stuff" pretty much ever.  I have to drag information out of him on some topics.  He wanted me to read this book because he said it would provide some insight into him and what he has been through in life.

I'm so glad he made me read it.  Not only did it provide insight into him, but it was also a beautiful book.  Win-win.  It isn't all doom and gloom cancer.  Yes, cancer plays a key role in the book.  But it is also about friends, relationships, love, and adventure.

I generally read before going to sleep - it helps turn my mind off from all of the things that occupy it during the day and gives me something else to focus on to put me to sleep.  Sometimes I can only get through a few pages before I do the head-nodding, book-dropping, read-the-same-page-3-times thing before I put the bookmark in, turn off the light, and actually go to sleep.  Other times, I can't put the book down and find myself still voraciously reading until the wee hours of the night (or morning).

That happened with this book.  I was nearing the end, and just couldn't put it down.  Instead of lulling me to sleep, this book had me wide awake reading and turning pages as fast as I could to find out what happened.  I think it was probably around 2am when I finished, with tears in my eyes, loving the book, and having an even deeper appreciation for my husband whom I love dearly.  I put the book down, turned off the light, wiped my tears, and kissed my sleeping husband.

A few weeks later, I saw an article on BuzzFeed about books that have been made into movies that are coming out soon - The Fault In Our Stars is one of them.  I CANNOT WAIT to see it.

Check out the movie trailer here.

Here is one passage (among many) that I absolutely loved from the book:

     "Okay," I said, and we clinked glasses.  I took a sip.  The tiny bubbles melted in my mouth and journeyed northward into my brain.  Sweet.  Crisp.  Delicious.  "That is really good," I said.  "I've never drunk champagne." 

     A Sturdy young waiter with wavy blond hair appeared.  He was maybe even taller than Augustus.  "Do you know," he asked in a delicious accent, "what Dom Pérignon said after inventing champagne?" 

     "No," I said. 

     "He called out to his fellow monks, 'Come quickly: I am tasting the stars.'"...

"Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book."  --John Green


Read this book - you'll love it!