As a summer person, I’m less excited than others I know to see it end. This abecedarian poem allowed me to experiment with words without searching for profound meanings, allowed me to play.
Autumn
brings
chills
dreary
evenings
fog.
Gone
heat
intense
joy.
Kindness
lingers while I
meander
near
oceans
playing
quickly,
running in
sunshine.
Tomorrow
under a
vanishing
wind in a
xeroscape
yard, I will
Zoom my next meeting.
Translated from Japanese, this short novel tells the story of a 19 year old young woman, Yayoi, who lives with a loving family–her mother, father, and brother. Yet she has a premonition that she has missed something from her childhood, forgotten something. She decides to move in with her aunt, Yukino, a gifted eccentric who sometimes awakens Yayoi in the middle of the night to eat and drink, who watches “Friday the 13th” over and over, who just throws unwanted stuff in the back yard and leaves it there among the weeds. While living in the midst of Yukino’s disordered life, Yayoi’s memories begin to resurface. When her aunt disappears, Yayoi and her brother go in search of her and learn mysteries of Yukino’s life. Later, while still searching for Yukino, Yayoi discovers the truth of her own life.
This novel was a best seller in Japan when it was first published there in 1988. It was not translated into English until 2023. Eleven other novels by this author were already available in English.
This book contains 20 fantastical and dystopian short stories. I found them fascinating with topics ranging from selkies to ogres to ghouls to jinns to witches (in this case positive ones). The settings range from US to Africa to a settlement in outer space (the story “Fallow”). Divided into two sections, Tender Bodies, Tender Landscapes, these stories address human frailty, anger, greed, extreme religions and how humans treat each other (both good and bad) and what might occur in the future if people do not behave better. “Fallow” is a sort of handmaid’s tale where instead of being on Earth–which has been basically destroyed–a group of extreme religious folks have made a place for themselves on another planet after escaping Earth. If anyone from Earth accidentally shows up, they are in big trouble unless they become just like the people already there. Otherwise, they do not kill them–that is wrong–but just sort of let them slowly die. These stories, both brutal and lovely, display an incredible imagination.
As many celebrate this day
because they see it as a joyous
cry in praise of the
day the United States declared
emancipation from English tyranny,
free to be its own country, self
governed, no longer ruled by kings,
humans, Black, enslaved,
indigenous, find celebration difficult.
Jefferson, in The Declaration of Independence,
knowingly called Native People
lacking in worth,
“merciless Indian Savages,”
never considering the contradictions, the
overt irony when compared to his view that
people are created equal.
Qualified, white male landowners, the
rich, voted, prospered.
Slaves, counted as only 2/3 a person, were
told to obey, work til death, be Christian.
Until all, regardless of race, gender, religion, are
valued as worthy humans, are free to prosper, can
walk proud throughout the United States,
xenophobia will destroy our founding ideals.
Yearn for, work toward, equity, kindness, be
zealous in our quest for a better country.
The main character, Nayan Olak, is a Sikh whose parents immigrated to England. He has worked decades first on a factory floor and then later risen through the ranks of his union. Encouraged by others, he decides to run for head of the union when suddenly a young woman of the same ethnicity decides to run against him. She will do anything to beat him including using an unfortunate argument between them to accuse him of all sorts of misdeeds.
In the meantime, a woman, Helen, who left town under mysterious circumstances years ago shows up with her young adult son who is recovering from the aftermath of another unfortunate misunderstanding. Helen works for home health but refuses to take care of Nayan’s dementia ridden father. He cannot figure out why since she willingly takes care of others. He becomes obsessed with her, helps her son who becomes a sort of substitute for Nayan’s son who was killed along with Nayan’s mother in a fire many years previously. The police never determined who started the fire even though they knew it was arson.
Tragedies ensue as this story about race, misunderstandings, secrets, and relationships progresses. It also demonstrates the power, for better or worse, of misunderstood words and actions.
Written in an unusual style, the narrator, the main character, tells his story to an American visiting Pakistan. While they are sitting eating dinner and later walk to a hotel, the narrator relates his life as an immigrant who found US life too shallow, too focused on profit. The narrator, a young, Pakistani man with an Ivy League degree, attains the heights of success in the US, working in a highly desirable career position where he is the star. After 9/11 occurs, he questions who he is, what working in this sought after career means, whether it is even ethical to work in a position for a firm whose job it is to investigate companies, their profits, and ruin the lives of the people who work there. He is sent to Chile to investigate a literary firm, meets the manager who takes him under his wing and helps him look at what he is doing in a totally different light. Is money everything? Do the lives of ordinary workers matter? In addition, it is a love story. He meets a beautiful, young, wealthy, US woman, they develop a close friendship, and he discovers she is not mentally stable and does everything he can to help her.
While on the surface this appears to be a story of a young immigrant who does not ultimately fit in with US life, it is much more. It raises the questions of the definition of success, of what love is, of profit over humanity.
If you like the unusual, violence, magic, revenge, stories of racism, classism, and Westerns, this is the book for you. Ming Tsu, a Chinese orphan at the time when the Chinese were building the railroad, is taken in by the head of a crime organization and taught to be an assassin. He falls in love with Ada, the daughter of a wealthy railroad magnate, elopes with her only to have her father (who has hired the crime organization to further his goals) kidnap her and force Ming Tsu into labor for the railroad. He eventually escapes, joins with a Chinese clairvoyant whom he calls the Prophet and a group of touring magic show performers, many of whom have supernatural abilities. He sets out to gain revenge, hunting down and killing all who helped his father-in-law kidnap Ada and put him in bondage. This is the classic Western romance, revenge story with a totally different twist and an unexpected ending.
Fearless little bird with chocolate brown head runs beside me
on the road. At the intersection I circle to the left, following
a familiar route. The heavy tree canopy here always astonishes.
It’s almost like walking in a forest.
The architectural variety amazes: mid-century modern, Spanish,
colonial, ranch, the smallest I am guessing contains 3500 sq. ft. One
house encompasses an entire city block, fronted with heavy, high
fences and metal gates. Privacy obsessed.
I’m watching my time. I don’t want to be late for singing
practice. I take a new route, perhaps a shortcut. It’s
120 degrees of a circle. Not quite a regular street,
not quite an alley, a combination–fronts of a few houses
and the backside of others. At one place it angles more;
I come to a three story stone fortress with intricate
geometrical designs vertically running up and down
the walls. No windows. A sign says, “No trespassing.”
Realization hits me. This is the other side of a house
I saw last year through a gap in a wall on another street.
Three ladies, strangers, asked me about it, told me they’d
heard it was the creation of a famous architect. I researched,
asked others, no one knew. Back then, I tried to find the front,
failed. Now I’m looking at it, wonderstruck. It appears abandoned,
an architectural wonder belonging to another time and place.
Time to rush, a bit lost, I look at my phone map, finish the loop,
find a familiar street, walk faster. Then I see a large, white, colonial house,
weeds knee high, black shutters hanging askew. Here it is abandoned
in the midst of multi-million dollar houses. I wonder what the neighbors
think. Walking on I hear water rushing, peer through the hedges–a stream
runs downhill from the side of this huge brown house at least 100 feet
and gurgles in a pool behind the bushes. Hurrying, I stop in front of one
of my favorite houses, a one-story, tan, Spanish style, small compared
to the others nearby. I take a photo of the tree in front by the sidewalk,
its impressive girth impossible to ignore.
Finally, I’m near my destination, walking in front of The Gamble House,
a tourist destination made famous by the movie, “Back to the Future”,
a structure I see at least twice a week.
They tell writers, “Never ever use cliches.”
Sometimes I question that. When you
word a cliche, nearly everyone knows
exactly what you mean. For example:
This is a perfect spring day:
-birdsong wafting here and there,
mostly mockingbirds except for those
irredescent, orange-throated
hummingbirds at their feeder
-wind singing through the pines
-open windows for a change; it’s
75 degrees and sunny
-magenta and scarlet bougainvillea
climbing the garden wall
-white and lavender lantana
outdoing themselves with
spread and bloom
-geraniums in full flower
-mint growing so fast and tall
I already need to trim it.
I lounge on the patio reading
another novel, drinking rosewater
lassi, munching mixed nuts.
I feel gratitude for this
perfect spring day.
Before reading this book, I thought of French society as relatively egalitarian. Apparently, it is not if this book mirrors reality. One main character Renee, 54, lives and works as a concierge in a high class building containing eight, large, luxury apartments which the residents own. As she tells her story, she notes that this is her 27th year at this job. She describes herself as “short, ugly, plump”. She rarely says anything nice about herself or any of the residents. She notes she is uneducated, insignificant. She has one friend, Manuela, a cleaning woman originally from Portugal. Renee thinks it is her duty, her lot in life, to pretend to be something she is really not, a person totally lacking in intellectual and artistic acumen. She runs the television to make the residents think she watches mindless melodramas when she is actually reading Tolstoy as well as all sorts of literature and Marx, history, well every genre. After all, her cat is named Leo for a reason. She goes to art galleries, listens to all sorts of classical music, is basically an intellectual in the true meaning of the word, but works very hard to hide this, because she thinks she must stick to her station in life as she sees it. This works until one resident dies and a wealthy Japanese man buys the deceased man’s apartment. Both he, who notes her cat is named Leo, and a young girl, the other main character who lives in one of the apartments and plans to commit suicide and set their apartment on fire, suspect Renee is not as she appears to be. I do not want to give it all away, but this is a book with many life lessons, including that adage about not judging a book by its cover.
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