The Magician's Land: A Novel, by Lev Grossman

After finishing Shrinkage, by Bryan Bishop, I started The Magician's Land: A Novel, by Lev Grossman on March 4th.  This took me a while to work through - I finished it on April 16.  This is the 3rd book in the Magician's series.  Book 1 is The Magicians: A Novel and Book 2 is The Magician King: A Novel.  I read books 1 and 2 some time ago.  The husband and I went to a SF in SF (Science Fiction in San Francisco) event and heard Lev Grossman speak in July 2012.  The question of the evening for Lev was whether he would be writing a sequel to Book 2.  He told the audience he was working on it - and finally it came out.  He even signed my copy of Book 2.  He was a cool dude.  Incidentally, the other speaker that night was pretty cool too - S. G. Browne who wrote Lucky Bastard, a fun, quirky book set in San Francisco (he signed the husband's copy of that book).

How can I describe the Magicians series of books - it is sort of like an adult Harry Potter where magically inclined young adults are found and "auditioned / tested" for admittance into Brakebills, a magic school.  Those who pass their test are admitted to this school located in New York - but hidden from non-magical people by magical charms and spells.  A group of students there find a magical mysterious land called Fillory - a land that they read about in childhood books and thought was just fictional.  They discover that Fillory exists, and they are it's new kings and queens.

All kids of shit goes down in Books 1 and 2, and Book 3 picks up with Quentin teaching at Brakebills and saving one of the Brakebills students, Plum, from a flaming blue Niffin named Alice.  Alice used to be human, and used to be Quentin's girlfriend.  A Niffin is kind of like the Phoenix from Xmen - a human/non-human/monster/non-monster/flying/flaming being - except Niffins are blue.  

"... her body had burned, but the essence of Alice was in there somewhere, the Alice he knew, trapped inside that toxic blue flame like a fly in amber.  He'd recognized her, the old Alice, the one he used to love, twisted and distorted but real, and he couldn't leave her there.  If there was some way to get her out, he would find it."

Quentin finds himself embarking on an unknown adventure with Plum and some other magical misfits at the request of a talking bird.  Quentin isn't sure why the others were doing it, but he would stop at nothing to get Alice back and to do that, he needed money, and this adventured promised a large sum of money if completed successfully.  None of them know what the bird wants or what the bird's endgame is, but all of the misfit magicians are up for the adventure and challenge (and the money).

Some really cool stuff goes down.  Plum and Quentin go looking for some advice from one of their former Brakebills teachers at Brakebills South - in the Antarctic.  To get there, they fly on a plane part of the way to a small town in Tierra del Fuego, then decide to turn themselves into whales to swim the rest of the way.

"... Quentin and Plum were magicians, so they waited until midnight, then cast spells on their shoes and hiked out onto the channel on foot.  It was tricky at first, they made it out through the mercifully light surf and got used to the rhythm of the swells.  It was only their shoes that were buoyant, so if they fell over they'd get wet like anybody else... Quentin took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.  It was rare for magicians to kill themselves with their own magic, but stories that ended that way usually began by doing something like this...  Quentin braced himself.  Based on his memory of the goose transformation back at Brakebills he was pretty sure this was going to be really unpleasant.  He took a deep breath, held up his hands, and made a gentle downbeat, like he was cueing the start of a Mahler symphony.  It began.  Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad... The only real moment of panic came when he toppled forward into the water and went under.  His human instincts told him he was about to freeze or drown or both, but he did neither.  The water was neither warm nor cold - it was nothing.  It was like air.  He did utter some truly epic, booming whale-sneezes before his blowhole-based respiratory system got going.  But even that was kind of enjoyable.  And then everything was still.  He was hanging in the void, neutrally buoyant, twenty feet below the surface.  He was a blue whale... Quentin didn't know when he'd ever felt so calm... Once they cleared Tierra del Fuego Quentin's sensorium expanded hugely.  His world became enormous."

Grossman does a fantastic job writing about Quentin's and Plum's experiences as whales - oh how I wish I could experience that...  (side note: I scuba dive, and once on a dive with my brother in Hawaii, we were diving the back wall of Molokini Crater late in December, and we heard the migrating whales singing when we were probably about 70-80 feet under water - it was MAGICAL).

All kinds of magical shit goes down - Grossman goes between what is happening with Quentin and Plum on earth, and what is happening with the others who are in Fillory.  Janet is riding on a hippogriff high above a gigantic free-for-all-melee involving all kinds of magical and talking creatures:

"For a minute it looked like the centaurs were going to make the difference, but then boom: a spearhead of unicorns rammed into the side of their formation.  Jesus.  Janet had to turn away.  You only had to see a unicorn lay open the side of a centaur once, the ribcage flashing white when the ripped skin flopped down, to swear a mighty oath never to fuck with or even look at another unicorn again.  I'm putting down the hearts and fluffy clouds and backing away slowly.  Don't want any trouble here.  You can have all the rainbows.  It was - viewed from a certain detached, clinical angle - like Fillory was playing chess with itself.  A band of minotaurs straggled up, panting, having been outdistanced by the centaurs but plainly on their side.  But just as they did flocks of griffins and pegasi began crisscrossing the battle space from above, kicking and raking and tearing.  Actually the pegasi appeared to be worth fuck-all from an offensive perspective - their little hooves were too light and delicate to do much damage to anybody, and they were too fussy to beat anybody with their wings the way a swan might.  But still, total respect to them for showing up.  And what did it matter because the griffins were cleaning house.  Jesus, those guys were like flying tanks.  Beaks and claws.  Built for war."

Um, yeah, don't mess with the unicorns.

This book has a satisfying ending.  But, of course, it is an ending that is totally open to another book in this series.  We'll just have to wait and see.

So, if you like books about magic, are looking for something more to read after Harry Potter, pick up this series.  You'll probably enjoy it!

Now - on to the first book in a series my 12-year-old nephew is reading: The Alchemyst: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel by Michael Scott.  Let's see what has got Alex so excited!

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.

61 Hours, by Lee Child

So, after finishing How to Teach Filthy Rich Girls, by Zoey Dean, I started the next book in the Jack Reacher series by Lee Child, 61 Hours, on January 8.  I finished it on January 24.  What can I say about the Reacher books - they are highly entertaining.  They follow a certain recipe.  They are action packed.  They usually have a twist or 2.  He usually gets the girl.  Then he rides off into the sunset in search of the next small town where he can save the day in some way, shape, or form.  I still don't get the casting decision of Tom Cruise in this role - he is decidedly NOT Jack Reacher.

So, 61 Hours begins with Jack Reacher on a tour bus filled with old people making its way to Mount Rushmore in the dead of winter.  He isn't dressed appropriately (i.e. he does not have a warm coat or anything that a normal person would wear in a snowstorm).  He's asleep in the back of the bus, trying to not stand out, to not blend in, to be invisible.  He never stays that way for long.  The bus crashes in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a gigantic blizzard, and he is fearful that the passengers, and he along with them, will freeze to death if they don't get help.  Some law enforcement people from a nearby small South Dakota town come and help them - they send a bus (a prison bus to be exact) to move the passengers to the town, and the townsfolk volunteer to host the old people until the weather clears, they get a new tour bus, and are able to continue with their tour.

Reacher is immediately eyed suspiciously by the chief of police and his second in command.  He eventually learns that there is an older lady in town who is the main witness in a trial of suspected drug dealers, and the local police is on protective duty to keep her alive until she can testify.  There are "sinister forces" at work threatening the life of this lady, and the police will stop at nothing to protect her.  To a point.  There is a new federal prison in town, and one of the agreements the local police had to make in order to get a ton of funding for the force is that if there is a riot at the prison, EVERY cop has to drop everything and high tail it to the prison until the riot has subsided.  This includes leaving the witness.

Well, you guessed it - a riot happens.  The police head to the prison.  The witness is left alone.  Reacher protects her - she comes out unscathed, this time.  The police "hire" Reacher as a consultant to protect the witness and help them figure out what is going on and who the "bad guys" are.  Reacher uses some of his old army contacts to help figure out what an old government compound is (that is currently being used by suspected drug dealers).  He regularly talks to a woman, Susan Turner, who holds Reacher's old post - there is an immediate chemistry between Reacher and this woman.  I suspected that Susan would be the girl that Reacher gets.

I obviously don't want to spoil the various twists and turns of this book - but this is one book where Reacher doesn't get the girl.  I really thought he would get the girl - but he doesn't.  Things don't get completely wrapped up with a big red bow like they do in some of the other Reacher novels.  But, by the end of the book, most things get figured out, most things resolve, and Reacher moves on - just like clock work.  

This book is an easy read, highly entertaining, and I really enjoyed it.  As always, I look forward to the next adventures of Jack Reacher.

How to Teach Filthy Rich Girls, by Zoey Dean

So, after finishing Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child, I picked up How to Teach Filthy Rich Girls by Zoey Dean.  I started reading this on December 26, and finished it on January 1, 2015.  The husband and I were down in Southern California for the holidays, and when we got to my parents' house, inevitably we looked through their ever-growing "we're-done-reading-these-books-so-they're-free-for-the-taking" pile.  There were all kinds of books in that pile, some that have been there for a while, and some new ones.  My eye was drawn to the cover of this book.  I've picked it up on other occasions when I've been home, but Sally gave it only a lukewarm review, so I never committed to reading it.  But, for some reason, this time I did.

the cast of the TV Show
"Privileged"

After only a few pages, something about the book sounded vaguely familiar.  As soon as I got to the place in the book where Zoey Dean introduced one of the characters, Laurel Limoges, I remembered that this book used to be a TV series called "Privileged" and was on the CW in 2008/9.  It didn't last long, but I remember watching it on occasion and having a sort of love-hate relationship with it.  Regardless, I got into the book and enjoyed reading it.

In a nutshell, this book is about a young journalist, Megan, who is down in the dumps - she has a job she's not particularly good at, her apartment in NYC has just burned down, she has no money, and sadly loses the job she has but can't stand.  Her boss who fires her recommends her for another seemingly unrelated job (as a tutor) - a job and an opportunity Megan just can't pass up.

"A leap of faith.  I wasn't really a leap-of-faith kind of girl.  Watch carefully from the side and suss it out - yes.  Big leap - no.  But what were my options, really?  And even if she had just fired me, for some reason, I didn't want to let Debra down.  Weirdly, I still liked her.  "Okay, I'll do it." ...As I shook her hand and then left her office for the last time, I felt like Alice heading toward that damned rabbit hole."

So, off she goes to Palm Beach, Florida to be the tutor to two high-school-aged twin sisters whose parents died when they were younger, and are currently being "raised" by their workaholic absentee grandmother, the head of a cosmetics empire which the twins will inherit.  Megan was thrown into a world full of money and riches the like she's never experienced before.  And, of course there is a developing love interest.

Megan's main job is to help the twins (Sage and Rose) get better grades, do well on the SATs, and get into Duke, their college legacy.  Sage and Rose are set to inherit a gagillion dollars on their 18th birthdays, or so they think.  They are less than receptive to the idea of working with Megan.

     "What do we care?" Sage asked, although she clearly wasn't looking for an answer.  "We're already rich and we're almost famous.  Come on, Rose."  She got to her feet.  "We're out of here."
     Laurel shrugged again.  "Depart if you want.  But understand this, Sage: You are not rich."
     Sage sighed wearily.  "Yet.  We aren't rich yet.  But we will be next month, on our eighteenth birthday.  Eighty-four million dollars rich.  That's what the trust says."
     "No, that's what the trust used to say," Laurel corrected.  "It was revised this morning."
     Sage's pale face drained of what color it had.  I watched her reflection in the silver tea set across the room.  "What are you talking about?" she managed.

This was a cute book, book candy, book fluff - nothing too serious, nothing too heavy, nothing too complex - but entertaining.  There were a few things that made me cringe, however.  Typos, including once where the author referred to one of the main characters, Laurel, as Lauren (the editor AND author should have caught that one), and a few other generic typos and grammatical errors.  That kind of stuff drives me a little insane.  I know, I know - no one is perfect, but when a publisher is paying an editor to edit a book, these things just shouldn't happen, especially referring to a character by an incorrect name.  I guess I don't expect too much from an author whose "about the author" sentence on Amazon is:  "ZOEY DEAN is the author of the New York Times bestselling A-LIST series. She grew up in Beverly Hills and now lives in Palm Beach, where she is working on her next novel and dreaming of a Pulitzer--Lilly Pulitzer, that is."  She is correct though, if all of her books are similar to this one, she's destined to a world of Lilly Pulitzer. 

A cute read, but no need to drop everything and run to the bookstore.

Gone Tomorrow, by Lee Child

So, after finishing The Soul of All Living Creatures, I had a few week hiatus from reading because life got busy (when isn't it?) and I wasn't quite sure what to read next.  I didn't have anything in the queue.  When packing for our holiday trip to Southern California, I asked the husband if he had any suggestions on what I should read next...  He suggested the next Jack Reacher novel.  So as we were rushing to get out the door and to the airport, I hopped onto my handy dandy book blog (this one!) to see which Reacher I read last so we could look at the list and grab the next one in the series - which just happened to be Gone Tomorrow, by Lee Child.  I started this one on December 20 and finished it on December 25.  A good, quick read.

A typical Jack Reacher novel, Gone Tomorrow, tells the story of Jack Reacher, ever the nomad, having trouble find him when he is trying to mind his own business and keep to himself, and him being unable to walk away and let things be.  Lee Child's Jack Reacher tales are pretty formulaic - but they (so far) are always entertaining.

In this iteration of the Reacher novel, Jack Reacher finds himself on the subway in New York City at 2am looking at what he thinks is a female suicide bomber.  Ever the hero, Reacher intervenes and approaches the lady and the situation deteriorates from there.  But, in each Reacher novel, the situation is never exactly what it seems, and Childs weaves an intriguing web of layer upon layer of shit hitting the fan that Reacher wades and sifts through in an attempt to help the down and out, the trodden upon, the little guy or girl.

One unique thing about this book, Reacher doesn't get the girl in the first half of the book...  He gets her all the way on page 452 (out of 543) and it isn't the girl that you expect it to be.

She said, "What do you want to do right now?"
[Reacher said,] "Honest answer?"
"Please."
"I want to unbutton your shirt."
"Danger makes you horny?"
"Women make me horny."
"All women?"
"No," I said.  "Not all women."
She was quiet for a long moment and then she said, "Not a good idea."
I said, "Ok."
"You're taking no for an answer?"
"Aren't I supposed to?"
She was quiet for another long moment and then she said, "I've changed my mind."
"About what?"
"About it not being a good idea."
"Excellent."

This book has to do with some things that I'm not entirely sure I should write about in this blog out of a slight fear that it could raise the eyes of some organizations that I'd rather not raise the eyes of.  I will say this - it was a great story, and when the shit hit the fan, as it inevitably does in every Reacher book - it REALLY hit the fan.  I found it difficult to put the book down toward the end because I really wanted to see how it ended.  Usually books help me fall asleep.  Reacher books generally (when the shit is hitting the fan) help me avoid sleep - I get all worked up and need to read as fast as I can to find out what happens.  This one was no different.

If you need a little mind candy and a good, quick read, pick up the Reacher books - but read them in order, they will make more sense that way.

The Soul of All Living Creatures, by Vint Virga, D.V.M.

So, After finishing Paris: The Novel by Edward Rutherfurd on October 26th, I picked up The Soul of All Living Creatures: What Animals Can Teach Us About Being Human, by Vint Virga, D.V.M.  I heard about this book when I was listening to NPR one evening on my way home from work.  The author, Vint Virga was being interviewed about cat PDA and his book.  I'm pretty addicted to animals, so this interview piqued my interest more than some other interviews I hear on NPR.  I mentioned it to the husband, and he added it to our next Amazon order.  Poof - a few days later, I had it in hand!

I started reading it on November 6th, and finished it in early December (of course, I forgot to write the date down...)  It was a little slow going getting into the book, but once I did, it was so interesting and gave me so much food for thought.  I've only really had one pet in my life - a cat named Kitty Witty - she was the best and I loved her.  I still get misty eyed remembering the last days of her life - she lived almost 21 years.  The last years, I didn't have her with me - she stayed living with my parents after I moved from Southern California to San Francisco to go to college.  But I loved the time I had with her when I was home for visits.  I had fish and mice and hamsters and rats as pets too, but none had as much impact on my life as Kitty Witty did.

Reading this book, however, made me think more about animals and how if humans could live their lives more like animals live theirs, the world might be a much better place, and our relationships with others might be really different too.

Virga opens the book with a tale about a dog named Pongo that was hit by a car.  Pongo wasn't physically injured - xrays and other tests showed nothing physically wrong with him, but he was going downhill fast.  Vigra couldn't figure out what was wrong with Pongo or how to help him get better.  Vigra attended to a host of other injured animals in the clinic that evening and at close to 3am, he sat, exhausted, next to Pongo to update the charts of the other animals.  As Vigra sat there charting and resting his free hand on Pongo's chest, Vigra soon felt a vague shift in Pongo.  Soon, the changes were real - Vigra felt the pulse strengthen, heart rate slow, and Pongo's focus shifted "from some distant planet to there by my side.  With the weakest of wags at the tip of his tail, he licked my hand as I spoke his name.  In medical terms, he became more responsive.  But, simply put in other words, Pongo grew preset in body and spirit."  Was it medicine that healed Pongo - maybe but also maybe not.  Was it possibly companionship, touch, and bonding with Vigra?

Bixby, Christmas 2011

This passage really touched me.  I, too, have always loved animals - they have a special place in my life.  I love seeing them, love petting them, love just being with them.  Animals are pretty special.  I could spend hours just laying next to my sister's dog, Bixby, petting his soft little ears, and feeling him breathe.

"Since my earliest memories (I was maybe four or five years old), I've felt drawn to animals by some unexplained force.  At holiday gatherings, my parents' dinner parties, or days around town - especially in crowds - I could be found somewhere out of the way, comfortably sitting alone on the ground with a cat in my lap or a dog close at hand.  Sometimes I'd talk to them, other times not.  I was simply content to be with them in silence and escape all the pressure of being with people - words freely spoken with so much unsaid, unspoken meanings, hidden agendas.  With animals, I felt at home.  Their messages were clear and true.  What mattered in those moments was nothing more than our relationship."

Vigra tells his story in vignettes about animals he has treated - from house cats in Lake Tahoe to leopards in zoos - how he has tried (sometimes successfully and sometimes not) to help the animal (and their human companions) through whatever ails them.  From depression, to crazy fits, he seems to always want to listen to the animal and hear what they are saying in order to try and ease their strain.

He wonders, for instance, why his dog, Katie, is so drawn to sniff every single lamppost on their walks.

"I envision a dog's world with clouds of aromas - some muted pastels, some lusciously brilliant, painted on tree trunks, seeping from crevices, and wafting aimlessly in the breeze.  Enthralling.  Alluring.  Beguiling.  Seductive.  If for just one day we could smell as a dog does, in what ways would that day differ from others?  And how might we be changed afterward?  Could we go on with our lives as before, ignoring all that our senses miss?  Or would we then dare to look at the world from a fresh perspective?  ...How would it feel to surge through the waves and leap through the air with the ease of a dolphin? What would it be like to lope through the savannah, grasses billowing in your wake, in a coalition of cheetahs, moving toward a nearby grazing heard of impala? Or to swiftly glide through the cold autumn air as silently as a great horned owl, having spotted through the blackness of night the stripe of a skunk on the forest floor below you?  How, then, is it possible to step into the shoes of an animal?  Simply put, as humans, we can't... In the hurried pace of our daily routines, we all too often neglect to notice what our senses reveal to us.  At the end of the day as we drive down the freeway, in our haste to make it home, we ignore the ochre hues of sunset fading before us between the clouds.  With windows closed to the snarl of traffic and radios tuned to the evening news, we miss a flock of geese as they pass overhead...our thoughts often drag us right out of the moment...distracted by responsibilities and focused on our hopes and dreams, we neglect what is right within our reach.  And in so doing, we miss the moment and all the rich experiences it offers us."

He talks about how animals' minds generate images, emotions, memories, and thoughts - just like we do.  They take in their surroundings and circumstances, and make decisions on their actions accordingly.  Sometimes they get it right, sometimes not.  They use methods other than language to convey how they are feeling and what they are thinking.  Where humans use language, there are so many nonverbal cues that we fail to pick up on or use.  By considering animals and how they communicate, we could learn a thing or two.  "...we must be willing to notice, take stock, and be accountable for all the messages we relate, spoken and unspoken.  Our ability to express ourselves - to be seen, heard, and understood; to connect with others, as we long to do - depends upon us fully claiming all the ways we communicate.  As we accept how we convey our thoughts and feelings beyond words we use - through the tone, pitch, and pace of our voice as we speak; our postures, gestures, and facial expressions; the ways we look into another's eyes (or don't) - we more fully relate to those in our lives.  And as we communicate with clear intention, while being mindful and sensitive, we more fully embrace our human nature."

Often, as I am reading books, I dogear (ironic?) certain pages with passages that touch me in some way.  In this book, there are so many dogeared pages, I can't include them all here - this post would be far too long, and there would probably not be too much more book for you to read.

This book, to me, was more of a book about how to be a better human, than it is about actual animals.  Sure, the book is about animals, but it is so much more than that.  How can we be better humans by considering the animals around us.  "The world is always changing...Our circumstances are never static...We're never precisely on the right course...Adapting is an ongoing process...As I watch animals, I see they get this.  It's not that they don't have objectives, but they adjust them more willingly than we do...Animals accept adapting as a process, adjusting their plans according to each situation...The creatures around us can serve to remind us that we hold the wisdom already within for how we can change our lives and open ourselves to new ways of being, if only we are willing to clip a whisker from the tiger."  (Clipping a whisker from a tiger is part of a Korean folktale that Vigra writes about in his book - I found a retelling of it courtesy of Google - it's a touching story.)

In writing about forgiveness, Vigra says "While animals, undoubtedly, harbor memories of pleasure, suffering, and remorse, they move past them with greater poise than humans often do.  It's not that they are indifferent to insult or injury, but they more willingly return to their relationships and their lives, giving as before.  For them, the continuity of their lives takes precedence.  Overlooking conflict, abuse, punishment, and suffering, they offer forbearance, patience, and a readiness to forgive.  Looking past missteps and blunders, they remain devoted to the enduring qualities of each relationship - companionship, sharing, and affection."

with Kitty Witty in 1986

Animals are wondrous creatures, as are humans.  I think we each enhance the others' lives, and we can learn a lot from each other - not through words - but rather, through unspoken connections.  I remember distinctly the day I moved to San Francisco in January 1994.  It was a week after the Northridge earthquake.  I think my cat tried to warn me about it - but I didn't listen.  About 30 minutes before it happened, I remember her waking up from her little corner of my bed, meowing a lot, waking me up and annoying me.  I nudged her off my bed with my foot, and she ran away to find another part of the house to occupy.  Then 30 minutes later - BAM! the earthquake hit.  She was nowhere to be found for quite some time after the earthquake.  I'm sure it was as traumatic for her as it was for me.  I was so scared to leave home, leave my cat, and move to a city that was home to the original "big one."  As I finished packing my things, and getting ready to go, I remember clinging to my cat.  She sat there with me patiently and let me hold her, crying on her side, tears wetting her fur.  She let me get it all out and licked my cheek - telling me it was ok to go - that I would be ok.  We had a bond.

with Kitty Witty in 1998

Vigra's book is sweet and lovely, and rather insightful.  Read it - it might teach you a thing or two about animals, and volumes about yourself.

Paris: The Novel, by Edward Rutherfurd

After finishing Los Angeles Stories, by Ry Cooder, on August 30, I moved right on to Paris: The Novel by Edward Rutherfurd.  I got this book soon after the husband and I returned from our vacation in May to Paris, Florence, and Rome.  I had never been to any of those places before so was super excited to go.  I had low expectations for Paris, but after getting there and being there for a day, I fell in love.  Paris was magnificent and I loved every moment we were there.  I also have a soft spot for historical fiction, so was excited to see this book at Costco one afternoon, and decided it should come home with me.

This book is quite lengthy - 805 pages - so it took me a while to get through it.  I finished it on October 26h.  The Husband and I had an ongoing joke about the book.  Every night he would ask me what the book was about, and every night I would tell him it was about Paris.  Clearly it was about Paris - it's the title of the book.  But it was so much more than that.  Rutherfurd told the story of Paris through several fictitious families that lived there at different times in pivotal periods of Paris' and France's history.

Rutherfurd provides an illustration of 6 family trees - these families all are intertwined throughout the book in interesting ways - the families Le Sourd, de Cygne, Renard, Blanchard, Gascon, and Jacob.  The illustration begins in 1282 and goes through 1968, so yeah, the book covers a lot.

I loved how Rutherfurd paints such real and vivid literary pictures with his rich and descriptive writing style.  As you are reading, it is so easy to visualize the people, the places, and the details that he writes about.  I loved how he would describe a place, and I could actually picture it because I had recently been there.

When in Paris, the Husband and I took a guided tour of the Eiffel Tower.  Our tour guide described how the tower came to be - a contest for a monument for the world's fair was opened with very specific requirements.  It it had to be a specific height (to top the Washington Monument in America), and the winner of the contest had to fund the construction of the structure themselves.  One option was a giant guillotine and another contender was a giant sprinkler.  The tower was submitted by Gustave Eiffel - an engineer - and it was selected.  Eiffel negotiated that he would pay for the construction if he could keep the profits the tower generated for the next 20 years.  The book echoed this sentiment as Rutherfurd wrote about the character Thomas Gascon, a poor boy who lived near Sacré Coeur, who needed a job.  He worked for Eiffel on the Statue of Liberty, and when the tower was starting to be built, Thomas got a job from Monsieur Eiffel himself.  In one of the many conversations between Thomas and Eiffel, Thomas learns from Eiffel about the reasons behind the tower's design:

     "What is the greatest threat to a tall structure, young Gascon? Do you know?"
     "Its weight, I suppose monsieur."
     "No.  Not really.  It's the wind.  The reason my tower has the shape it has, the reason it is constructed the way it is, all this is because of the wind, whose force would otherwise tear it down.  That is the reason.  Nothing else."
     "Is that why it is just iron girders, so the wind can blow through?"
     "Excellent.  It is an open lattice construction, so that the wind can blow clean through it.  An despite the fact that it is made of iron, which is strong, it is actually very light.  If you put the tower in a cylindrical box, as a bottle of wine is sometimes sold, the air contained in the box would be almost as heavy as the metal tower itself.  Amazing, but true."

Jumping to 1911, Thomas Gascon is married and has a few children.  He has taken his children for a walk around Montmartre:

There was a funicular, nowadays, that ran up the left side of the steep, high slope, but one had to pay.  Besides, as he told Monique when she complained, they wouldn't get any exercise if they didn't go up the steps.
     The sun was out, catching the soaring white domes of the church of Sacré Coeur.  High on its hill, it gleamed over the huge oval valley of Paris.
     "Most of my life," Thomas remarked to his children "this hilltop was just a huge field of mud and wooden scaffolding.  I used to wonder if I'd ever live to see the church finished.  They didn't take the scaffolding down from the big dome until you were born, Monique, when I was thirty-five."

Jumping back to 1877, Thomas is courting Édith, a girl he saw at the funeral procession for Victor Hugo and fell instantly in love with, despite not knowing her name, where she lived, or anything about her.  He found her many years later, and began courting her.  Thomas and Edith went for a walk at the Trocadéro, and some pleasure gardens nearby.  Rutherfurd describes the scene:

     On the slope below the Trocadéro's Moorish concert hall as it looked across the river to the site of Monsieur Eiffel's tower, there were some pleasure gardens, which contained two big statues, one of an elephant, the other of a rhinoceros.
     "I remember my father bringing me here to look at these," Édith told him, "when I was a girl."  She smiled.  "So I like to come and see them sometimes."  She shrugged.  "It brings back good memories."

I remember seeing these statues outside the Musee d'Orsay.  They were absolutely lovely!

Also in 1877, we follow Roland de Cygne after school one day going to see the tomb of Napoléon at Les Invalides near Champ Mars and the Eiffel Tower.

     Roland was a conscientious pupil.  It didn't come naturally, because he often didn't want to work.  It was only because of his mother, really, that he forced himself to do it.  "Promise me, Roland, that you will try your best at school."  It was almost the last thing she'd ever said to him.  And to his credit, he had always kept his promise.  Other boys in the class might be cleverer, but by working hard, he usually managed to get grades that were only a little behind the leaders.
     So when, during a history class that morning, the teacher had asked how many boys had been to visit the horror, and he was the only one not to raise his hand, and the teacher told him to go to see it, he'd decided to go at once.  After all, it wasn't far.
     ... Instead of finding a nave beneath the dome, one looked down from a circular gallery into a marble pit.  Twelve pillars of victory encircled this pagan crypt, and in its center, upon a massive, green granite pedestal, rested a stupendous sarcophagus of polished red porphyry, bulging with imperial pride.
    

     The tomb of Napoléon, child of the Revolution, conqueror of God's anointed monarchs, emperor of France.  This was the horror that Roland had been sent to see.

The book was so rich with descriptions of places, people, architecture, feelings, and historical events.  It is impossible to touch on them all.  I absolutely loved this book.  I think I would feel exactly the same had I not bought it in a post-vacation Paris-loving haze at Costco one afternoon.

Randomly, my in-laws were visiting the Husband and I after I just started the book, and my father-in-law, Jim, mentioned he was reading Rutherfurd's New York book.  I did not know that there were other books by this author out there (though I can't say I am surprised).  I asked Jim to please save the New York book for me to read.  If you like books rich in history that might help you learn a thing or many about what happened in that place over time, pick this book up.  You won't be sorry - and if you haven't already been to Paris - be prepared to want to make the trip.  You will absolutely love it!

Note: all pictures here were taken by me on our vacation to Paris