Paradise Lost

Beaches, especially tropical ones, are among my favorite places to be.  I associate the beach with the people and aspects of my life I’ve loved.  There is the great open beauty, the white sand and even the shells.  Then there’s that something extra, the way the waves suggest a wild independence and freedom, especially once I learned to dive under them without getting hurt.

My one very brief visit to Hawaii confirmed how much more I'd like to explore it someday.  Not just the beauty but the history as well.  Still, it was with some reluctance that I finally picked up and read Moloka'i by Alan Brennert.  Though it was not in time for our book group’s discussion, it was that very discussion that actually drove me to read the book.  For Moloka'i was once where those with Hansen’s disease, then called leprosy, were banished to when it was discovered they had the disease.
  
The book is a fictionalized account of a real colony.  While it does include a few real people, the main focus is on a fictionalized child who was diagnosed with the disease around age 6 and sent alone to live on Moloka'i.  Rachel’s youth is probably the main reason I put off reading the book; it turns out she is also the main reason I found it so compelling. 

Gauguin went to the South Pacific in the late 1800s, roughly the same time period where this book begins.  What I learned at a recent exhibit was that his famous paintings were more fantasy than reality.  He was about 100 years too late for what he was looking for; he expected the old ways and what he found was a more structured society that had been influenced by the missionaries and other foreigners who had come to the islands.  It is said Gauguin died of syphilis but is there mention of how many others may have died as a result of his being there?  Perhaps not. 

Hawaii appears to be a bit similar to other tropical islands.  The influx of outsiders took over their world and changed it.  Old ways and religions were shunned and even surfing was disdained.  The missionaries brought their version of religion and the U.S. government brought its version of how life should be.  Like many remote places, the locals, known as the Kama'aina, had no immunity to the diseases also brought in by the foreigners.  As a result, a large portion of the local population died.  Leprosy was just one more disease carried in, only since it was more biblical and visual, I think it scared people even more. 

By the time Rachel is sent to Moloka'i in the 1890s, the living conditions, while still lacking, were much improved over earlier times when people were simply dumped off the boat and had to swim to shore to then forage their own way.  There were now safer places for children to stay and lead a relatively ordered life. 

The dichotomy is that though they were in a paradise, it was also their jail.  People couldn't leave and connections to the outside world were limited, especially in the early years.  How much would I love my tropical beaches if I could never leave or see those I love?  Fortunately, I don't have to make that choice.

There is a lot of heartbreak, people do die, but there is also a lot of love, compassion and spirit in the souls who lived there.  And there is humanity.  This disease doesn’t discriminate; it affects the old, the young, those with a good heart and those who are filled with darkness.  You even have to laugh when teenagers do what teenagers do, sick or not; they sneak out for a dance, drink a beer or indulge their curiosity about sex.   There’s also baseball, horse-racing and of course, there’s surfing.  Community develops.  People laugh, and yes, they even fall in love.
 
We watch as Rachel grows from a small child into becoming a woman with friends and family, her Moloka'i’ family.  Through her eyes, we see how the colony changes over the years, and sadly, we also feel her pain when those she loves die. 

This book is about the strength and fortitude of the people who lived on Moloka'i.  Rachel's character shows us one woman’s recalcitrant stance against the disease.  Recalcitrant is a word that makes me smile because it means stubbornly deviant and it describes Rachel’s attitude perfectly.
 
The reality of it is that people may have gone to Moloka'i to die but there was an awful lot of living going on along the way.

Something to think about the next time I walk along my favorite beach…

Ella

M is for Murder, My Love

I’m in love.  He’s tall, dark and handsome; he’s even rich and with a name like Dante, you know he’s hot.   Too bad he’s also a gangster, especially since he and his organization, and I use that term loosely, are in the crosshairs of the tenacious private detective Kinsey Millhone.   

I’ve read all of Sue Grafton’s novels but V is for Vengeance is one I’ve enjoyed the most.  Here, Kinsey has unwittingly stumbled into a large retail shoplifting operation while doing her least favorite thing, shopping.  Being her usual self, she’s like a dog with a bone.  Once Kinsey gets her teeth into a case, she doesn’t let go, even if her client asks her to, and trouble always follows. 

The book has some of its usual characters along with a few blasts from the past, though it is the satellite characters, Nora and Dante, I like best.  Nora is the bored wife of a wealthy and powerful lawyer, who is currently cheating on her; Dante is a loan shark and head of the family business.  As I watched them circle each other, I just knew an affair between them would have challenges.  Yet, I found I was cheering for them, even though I knew it was against the odds. 

Dante reminded me of how I felt about John Travolta’s character in Pulp Fiction; yes, he was a killer but I did feel a little sad when he was killed.  Dante is a much different character yet I still really hoped he would make it through alive and well.  How does it work out?  For that, you'll need to read the book. 

It does have me wondering what Sue Grafton will do once she publishes the last book in the alphabet.  I’ve read all of them, beginning with A is for Alibi.  What will happen to Kinsey in the end?  I guess we’ll have to stay tuned. 

Since I couldn’t warm myself with Dante, I decided to warm myself with another series, a cozy set in Quebec by Louise Penny.  It is here that I found another who captivated my heart. 

Unlike the gorgeous Dante, Armand Gamache is a happily married, middle-aged man with a little extra weight and warm trusting eyes.  He’s also the head of homicide for the Sûreté du Québec police force in Montreal.  Gamache has the uncanny ability to make sense out of murders that have none.  His theory is that it made sense to the murderer and once he figures it out, it will indeed be logical to the rest of us.  Part of his charm is his low key trusting manner.  People talk to him and end up sharing way more than was their intention. 

Of course, there’s one or two who don’t like him and with an old case still haunting him, he may be just a little too trusting.  

Three Pines has a problem, people keep getting murdered.  This brings Gamache and his team into their midst.  In the first of the series, Still Life, it is the nicest person in town who is murdered, which makes it challenging to find out why someone felt inclined to kill her.  In the next, A Fatal Grace, it’s the nastiest person in town, and this time, it’s a challenge to find someone who didn't want her dead.   

Three Pines has its own assortment of eccentric characters.  There is the very sweet Clara, a gifted but insecure artist, married to Peter, a more successful one.  Clara has the gift to see what others don’t, and more importantly, to see the best in people.  While I do admire that in her and would love to say I did as well, given that I am a bit of a cynic, you know I can't say so with a straight face.    

That brings me to the character at the other end of the spectrum, the very irascible Ruth Zardo, an old, contentious, rude woman who doesn’t care to see the good in anyone.  Nevertheless, our scotch drinking old lady is a poet; one that Gamache admires.  Her words are quite gloomy:

Who hurt you once so far beyond repair

That you would greet each overture with curling lip?
It was not always so. 

Don’t you just love it?  It’s so, bleak, so melancholy.  Or am I just showing my dark side?  

There are plenty of other interesting characters to be found in this quaint little village and each one adds a little color and depth to the picture.  It is with their help that Gamache ferrets out the mystery and solves the crime. 

Small quaint village, charming eccentric people, a good detective with something haunting him; these are essential ingredients to any good cozy mystery.  Still, with enough murders to make it a series, how cozy can this village really be?  On that cheery note,  I'll leave you with another Ruth Zardo poem, from A Fatal Grace:

When my death us do part

Then shall forgiven and forgiving meet again,

Or will it be, as always was, too late?

Perhaps I should have stuck with Dante...

Ella

Memories, aka, The Way We Were

 A woman comes back to consciousness after hitting her head at the gym.  As she wakes up, she believes it is 1998, she is pregnant with her first child, has a loving relationship with her husband and that the two have just bought an old home filled with possibilities and projects.  The reality is that it is actually 2008, she has three children, is in the process of a divorce and the house projects have long ago been completed.  Essentially, she’s lost the last ten years of her life and has no recollection of what happened or who all these people are, including her children.  She doesn’t even recognize who she has become.  This is the intriguing premise of What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty.  

Memories are a tricky thing.  We know how we think of the past but do we really know how it changes us?   How an attitude about someone or something affects who we are and how we act. Would we like something we previously disliked if we had no memory of why we didn’t like it?  Good question. 

Lately, I’ve had an intersection of memories and I partly blame/applaud Facebook.  A friend posted photos, bringing me right back to a recent beach vacation; then there are the many reminiscences from my college friends that take me back to an even earlier time.  Easter reminded me of the holiday rituals I’ve adopted from my Northwest “family” and just how many of my holiday memories are tied to living here.

   

Certainly my memories would be different if I hadn’t moved to Washington, but would I be different?  How have they shaped me, and, if given a do-over like Alice, is there a ten year period I would choose to redo?  Who would I be instead?  Perhaps it's something we all wonder since there are quite a few popular movies and books with that premise.

The truth is that each decade came with challenges as well as many joys.  You can’t get rid of one without losing the other.  I don’t think I’d want to.  Besides, my life isn’t a movie and there are no second chances to go back and change what was.  I am who I am, though hopefully, a slightly improved version.  I’m sure my friends, old and new, will not pause in letting me know if I’m not.

 

In the book, we live through Alice as she experiences her now unfamiliar life.  It is curious how her body remembers some things, like how she likes running or how she knows her morning make-up ritual, but that her mind is still a blank.  She does have feelings about things but not always the reason, like why a particular corner makes her sad.  There are also some disjointed memories, the ones just beyond her reach.  She can sense them but they’re illusive.  Then there is Gina, an individual everyone is cautious about what they say. Gina seems to have some sort of important role in Alice’s life but Alice doesn’t remember anything about her. 

Without the memories of what has happened in the missing years, Alice doesn’t approach her family or friends in the same way.  That turns out to be a good thing since she became a tough person to be around these last few years and has strained relationships with some of those closest to her. 

I found that I was almost cheering for Alice to not get her memory back.  I liked her present version, which has become a blend of who she was at a younger age and the better aspects of who she has become since.  I kept on reading because I wanted to know if her memory returned, and if so, to see if Alice kept some of this new person.  

 

Memories do have a hand in creating who we are but they are still our past.  It is fun to share stories with old friends, yet it is also enjoyable creating new memories with both them and our new friends.     

So, perhaps that's the message, that while memories are valuable and do help build who we are, it is the present we should live in and leave the way we were behind…

 Ella

Baseball and the Butterfly Effect

Opening Day of baseball is upon us and while I’m not a diehard fan, I do enjoy an occasional good diversion.  My all time favorite game was one I saw in early September awhile back.  I had front row seats in a company box right over home plate.  It was Cal Ripken’s final day to play against us, the weather was amazing, as only a clear warm autumn Seattle day can be, and my team even won.  A couple of days later the world would become a little darker and change us all, but that one afternoon was perfect. 

I was drawn to The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach, originally because of its connection to baseball, and though baseball is featured in the book, it is about so much more.  When I first tried to write, I found myself creating a book report which was not my intention.  There are plenty of good reviews online, I wanted something else.  Instead, I stepped away and read another book, How it All Began, by Penelope Lively.  It was then I realized some similarities between the books, since both were, at some level, about chaos theory.  Or it is also known, the butterfly effect.

In each, as a group of characters goes about their lives, something happens that reverberates through their existences.  In one, Henry, an enormously gifted college baseball player makes a bad throw and someone gets seriously injured.  In the other, Charlotte, an elderly school teacher, gets mugged on the streets of London.  What transpires is a series of events that might not have happened otherwise: people are thrown together who might not have met, mistakes are made, connections are missed, links are made, relationships break up and new ones are started.  The trajectories of lives change direction.  

How does one misguided 14 year old affect the marriage of two people he’s never met and most likely never will in the future?   Or, why does one bad throw of a baseball take down a college president?  But both happen.  

It made me speculate about how much we affect each other’s day as we wander.  That smile you got or gave might ripple out, perhaps to one whose life was on the brink and it was what they needed to brave out another day.  What about the reverse of that?  Consider what might happen if you’ve dumped your bad day on another?  What unknown person will feel the effect of that growl?  I’m not saying we’re all responsible for everything another feels, but when we review our lives and think of the choices made along the way and how they may have hurt or helped another, it does make you pause a bit. 

How It All Began, set in London, directly addresses the tentacles of chaos theory and how this one small mugging affects a group of mostly ordinary and mostly middle aged people.  The Art of Fielding is set at a small Wisconsin college, next to Lake Michigan. This story takes us through the challenges that face four college kids, who, already on the edge, go into a tailspin after the accident.  Plus there’s the added bonus of the poor decisions by the fifth key character, the college president, who really should have known better.   

Though they are very different books, in each, there were choices that changed lives, some for the better, some not.  What I found curious is that once things returned to semi-normal, there were people who changed a little less or who were able to more easily settle back into their lives.  I guess there are always some who simply learn how to adjust to life’s trials better than others do.  Or, is it that they’re more changed than we know but simply accept that and know how to hide it better?  Is the glass half full or half empty?  Do we know?

For me, though, I guess I’d prefer to look at it as half full.  So it is the perfect September afternoon at Safeco Field that I choose to remember, not the dark days that followed.  And though each book was compelling in its own way, I think I should read something a little more fun next.  Perhaps a good old fashioned murder mystery…

Ella

Darkness Prevails

Darkness, thy name is Seattle, at least in winter.  Fortunately, the clocks have just sprung forward and while there are some heavier clouds approaching, there were at least a couple of sun rays shining through today.  That, and a nice bunch of daffodils on my counter, tells me spring and the time for more light is imminent. 

Perhaps it is the very darkness here that draws me to Scandinavian crime fiction.  What is it about the Scandi-crime writers that make their work so dark?  Is it their lack of light in winter or do they have something else going on?  I'm curious but whatever it is, I’m enjoying it, even if there is some unadulterated evil in the stories told.  I’ve made the rounds through Stieg Larsson, Henning Mankell and to some extent, Jo Nesbø.  With each series, I’ve found brilliant but exceptionally flawed anti-social heroes who generally have an array of unhealthy habits and a lack of consideration for those who would befriend them.  To these, I’ve added Danish author, Jussi Adler-Olson, who is new to American audiences with his Department Q series.

  

Our protagonist, Carl Mørck, has just returned to the police force.  Physically, he has mostly recovered from the shooting that left one partner dead and the other permanently paralyzed, but the trauma of the attack is still with him.  For his boss, he’s an enigma.  Like most brilliant detectives, he solves cases.  Unfortunately, he’s not a guy others like to play with.  The only partners who worked well with him are out of the picture, so what to do with Carl is now a problem.  The police have been given money to develop a task force, Department Q, which will focus on cold cases.  They delegate Department Q to Carl and have him set up his office in Siberia, also known as the basement, far from the rest of the force.  He’s also assigned a somewhat quirky Muslim immigrant named Assad to be his assistant/office cleaner.  Problem solved. 

In The Keeper of Lost Causes, Carl’s first case is to discern what happened to a political leader who disappeared five years ago.  She is presumed drowned but her body has never been found.  What has happened to her is so far beyond most people’s comprehension, that at times, I found it challenging to read.  Yet, I had to find out how the story progressed, despite my personal abhorrence of her situation, and so I soldiered on.  It was well worth it.

Much to Carl’s surprise, he and Assad work well together as a team.  Between them, they begin to unravel what nobody else has been able to do since the women vanished.  Though he’s very different from what Carl is used to, Assad has a curious and intelligent mind; there is more to Assad than meets the eye and though we catch a glimpse here and there, much is hidden.  Perhaps we’ll learn more as the series continues.   

   

I've read a review that said it wasn’t hard to figure out the mystery in the book.  I would have to agree but this book was so character driven, I found it didn’t matter.  The number of eccentric personalities, both at police headquarters and those in Carl’s complicated personal life, among them, an ex-wife, her son, her lover(s) and a somewhat unconventional roommate, made the story interesting.  Then there is his injured partner Hardy, who while not happy to be here, still lends his mind to some of the cases when asked.  

Though there are more books published in this series, this is the only one currently in English.   Danish not being a language I know, I’ll just have to wait until the rest of Department Q’s cases make their way over to the U.S.  

Where’s a good looking Dane to translate when you need him? 

Ella

Precocious Adventures

Some books are wonderful to listen to, and when the author is also the reader, it can be an exquisite experience.  Such is the case of a beautifully written story by Michael Ondaatje titled The Cat’s Table.  The cadence and deep voice of the author just adds to the ambiance and though I’m only halfway, I look for reasons to drive my car to hear more of the story.    

The tale is of Michael, an eleven year old boy, who voyages from his old life in Sri Lanka to his new one in England in the 1950s.  He is assigned to the Cat’s Table, which is at the other end of the spectrum from the Captain’s Table, but is also way more interesting.  It is here that Michael befriends two other boys, Cassius and Ramadhin, along with a motley group of eccentric adults.  The boys, all traveling alone, spend the trip running wild throughout the ship causing all kinds of mischief and having one great adventure after another.  It is a twenty one day interlude between the reality they came from and the one they are going to.  There are also some poignant moments where, in the midst of things, Michael learns a little about the man he will become.  The sea voyage is the beginning of a life-long journey to that adult.  

What caught me was how Michael was not surprised to be traveling alone for three weeks but that he was surprised his family had actually seen him to the ship.  He had fully expected that he was to take the bus there alone.  I kind of understood that.   

Between the ages of 9 and 11, I attended boarding school in a grand old villa perched high above the Hudson River.  Though my family usually dropped me off Sunday evenings, I generally made my own way home each Friday.  In my dress uniform and navy blue felt brimmed hat, I, along with the rest of the girls, would drag my suitcase down the steep hill to the station to catch the next train to the city.  Then I’d make my way through Grand Central Station and hail a cab.  It was the mid-sixties and expectations were such that I would know how to get home on my own; which I did.  

Of course, like Michael and the boys, I’m sure there were times when my guardian angel was working a little overtime, like when I was crawling out on the rocks at the Hudson’s shoreline or teaching myself how to successfully strike a match.  We are a bit fearless at that age, aren't we?

In Michael’s story, I felt the allure of exploring the ship.  So many places to investigate and secrets to uncover: an indoor garden, a curious painting, breaking into first class cabins and so much more.  Sure, they got into trouble a few times, but it seems that most of their escapades were worth it.  Since I haven’t finished the book, maybe that will change.

The grounds at my boarding school were equally intriguing.  There was one we called the haunted house among the ancient abandoned buildings.  It was down the path from the main grounds and I’m not sure we were supposed to go there but who could resist?  On a dare, I did make my way into the house once, but I only made it just past the entrance before I got too scared to go on.  My adult self wishes I had gone a little further.  Perhaps my partners in crime weren’t as fearless as Michael and his friends.  Too many ghost stories, I guess. 

Like those boys, we girls were also a bit mischievous.  We even devised our own communication system where we’d throw wire hangers up to the dorm window above us or them to us below.  I’ve often wondered what the nuns thought when they found all those hangers in the deep pit under the windows.  Did they know?  

Eleven is an age when you’re on the brink of adolescence.  You’re not quite there yet but you’re just becoming aware that there’s more to come and that soon, life will change.

For Michael and his friends, there is this very distinct period, just 21 days long, where they have the freedom to explore, make foolish choices and be wild for just a bit longer.  Soon, this will come to an end, like all journeys do, and they will have to grow up. 

Yet, through them, for a short while, you can still be that impish child, full of wonder and curiosity, imagining what sort of trouble you might get into. 

Have fun, at least until the book ends…

Ella

Ideas for the Romantically Challenged

Ah, February, the month of hearts and flowers.  The time when expectations are high and life gets a little stressful on relationships.  Who started all this?  Wouldn’t it be better to have romance all throughout the year instead of one focused day?   

Don’t even get me started about those of us who are not in a relationship as we watch the flow of flowers and chocolate go by.  An online card has been circulating about wishing one a happy single awareness day and to enjoy watching The Notebook with your cat.  It did give me a laugh but I was thinking it was just a little too close for comfort.  Though in my case, instead of the movie, it will be me having a nice cup of tea, while reading a good book with Angel Boy the Cat snuggled next to me. 

Jane Austen is favorite for us daydreamers and I just finished a perfect choice for those of us who are romantically challenged.  The book, Jane Austen MadeMe Do It, edited by Laurel Ann Nattress, has original short stories all inspired by Jane and her characters.  Who among us Jane followers doesn’t love Mr. Darcy, especially as portrayed by Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice?   Then, not as much for his looks but for the story of missed opportunities, there is Captain Wentworth in Persuasion.  The hopeless romantic (hopeful?) in me just loves how he and Anne finally find their way back to each other.  

Mind you, I know that Jane’s stories are unrealistic but they provide good old fashioned romance fantasy. Sigh!

Now, as many know, cats are creatures I love.  What you may not know is that I also love the big cats, especially the tigers.  Wouldn’t you know it, there’s a romance fantasy which stars not one but two lovely tigers in The Tiger’s Curse series written by Colleen Houck for young adults.    

Not long ago, I told an old friend that within me, I still held the essence of the young girl I once was.  He looked at me like I had lost my mind, perhaps because he had actually known her and knew that she had been a bit wild.  But though we all do grow old, most of us retain a little something of that younger self within us.  Hopefully, it’s the less foolish part but there’s no guarantee of that.   

It is that essence of my younger self that was captivated by this series.  The first book is Tiger’s Curse, followed by Tiger’s Quest.  I’ve just begun the third book, Tiger’s Voyage, and I see that a fourth one, Tiger’s Destiny is due out later this year. 

Essentially, it’s the story of a young woman from Oregon, Kelsey, who after graduating from high school, gets a short term summer job at a traveling circus.  She develops a close affinity to a beautiful white tiger with mysterious blue eyes.  When the tiger is sold to a gentleman from India, she is asked to accompany the tiger to its new home.  What follows is a wonderful epic tale of love and fantasy.  Did I mention there’s a handsome prince or two?  The tiger books held my interest with lots of mythology, prophecies, and legends indigenous to India.  I’ve been having a grand time making my way through this mythical adventure and look forward to each new quest. 

Oh, and then, there's the description of the food.  Reading books set in India always makes me hungry, most notably for my favorites, Vegetable Korma and Butter Chicken.  Fortunately I was able to share some with a friend last night. 

To celebrate this romance day, I’ll listen to Gato Barbieri (going with a theme here), pull out my tiger book and cuddle up with my cat.  I’ll dream about opening my front door to find my own handsome, albeit middle aged, prince.  As I fall into his deep blue eyes, I’ll note his younger self in that wry smile of his...

And then wake up to the doorbell ringing to find, you guessed it, Jehovah’s Witness on my doorstep instead.
  

So much for my romantic fantasy!  Where’s a land shark when you need one? 

Ella