The Memory Palace by Mira Bartok

Opening the pages of an author's memoir depicting a tumultuous life with a mother with schizophrenia should be like opening Pandora's Box.  The craziness and disfunction should come flying off the pages out of control.  And with all of that craziness and disfunction, elements of shock, disgust, horror, and revelation should be the expected, clear consequences for both the author and the reader.  Saddly, the only consequence that struck me was shock.  My shock was not in response to the author's experiences with schizophrenia, rather, it was shock resulting from the author's choice in telling her story in a mellow, low-key tone.

Dad moves out and leaves the family.  Grandpa mentally, verbally, and physically abuses his wife, daughter, and grandchildren.  Grandma quietly lives in her bubble trying to keep the peace.  And Mira and her sister Rachel just try to make it from one day to the next.  As the sisters enter college, they change their names to avoid unwelcome housecalls from their mother, who conjures delusions of people trying to hurt her and her children because she suffers from paranoid schizophrenia.  It's seemingly the perfect recipe for the next great American novel ~ families overcoming unfortunate circumstances and tragedy.  The recipe contains the major characters and their roles, but it's missing a key ingredient ~ suspense leading to that climatic moment in a tragic tale that makes readers say to themselves, "How the hell did anyone ever survive this?"  I so wanted that moment in this memoir.  I wanted to gasp in horror. But the novel never afforded me that opportunity.  The facts and circumstances of the author's story are told in a matter-of-fact, clinical manner, which made it difficult to sympathize with the broken pieces of her life.  Unfortunately, The Memory Palace did not hold a majestic place in my own memory.

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok

Apparently, I am on an Asian cultural kick with the books I've been reading lately ~ Peony in Love, Please Look After Mom, and now Girl in Translation.  That seems to happen to me sometimes.  I'll be perusing the shelves in the library and start pulling books with the same theme or premise without even realizing what I've done.  It's usually unintentional.  So I'm not always quite sure how this happens.  Whether its instinct, intuition, or not-so-random mindlessness that has been guiding my book choices, it's been working out for me lately.

Girl in Translation is a work of fiction that reads like a seamless memoir because it allows readers to feel deeply compassionate for the narrator, Kimberly Chang.  Every event, circumstance, and emotion bears a validity that is easily recognized in those every-day people to whom we may not always be able to give a second glance but whose presence overwhelms our sympathies.

Kimberly has high hopes for success and liberty as she and her mother move from Hong Kong to Brooklyn, NY when she is only 11 years old.  Unaccustomed to the language and culture, Kimberly and her mother rely upon the "kindness" and "charity" of Aunt Paula.  Aunt Paula "generously" supplies her younger sister and niece with a rat and roach infested apartment in a condemned building and jobs in her clothing sweatshop earning 1 1/2 cents per skirt.  While Kimberly attends public school, she begins to realize just how dire her and her mother's situation truly is and vows to create a better life for the two of them.

Girl in Translation is a wonderful reminder to its readers that dreams can only be realized if you work hard enough for them.  It also reminds us that we all have the ability to make choices for ourselves, but it's those choices that have been made for us that are sometimes the hardest ones to overcome.

Peony in Love by Lisa See

It's never a good thing when my mom says, "Well, I have an idea for you."  It usually results in me baking 700 cookies for a family picnic or chauffeuring my 15-year-old sister around the State of CT or watching her high-maintenance (but very cute!) little dog while she and my father are living it up on vacation.  So when this was her response after my niece and nephew proclaimed their boredom in her presence while I happened to be watching them for a week, I pegged my niece and nephew on the arm, gave them a dirty look, and asked, "What are you two monkeys thinking?"  Haven't they learned how to play the game by now?  Talking to my mother requires a delicate balance between self-control and manipulation.  When done properly, we can bamboozle her into doing anything.  But as soon as she utters the words, "Well, I have an idea for you," you know you've lost the game.  Thanks to Bobby and Kayla's "boredom," we were now the ones being bamboozled.

So my mother's fine plan was that we go to the library, return her books, and come home with another pile for her to read.  Now, most of you are probably thinking, Well, that doesn't sound so bad.  But if you know anything about Bobby and Kayla, then you know that an outing in public with them is no small feat.  It becomes a test of my physical endurance, mental stability, and dignity.  While they are running around the children's room, jumping on the furniture, locking each other in the bathroom, and taking joy rides in the elevator, I'm burning red with embarrassment, stifling the foul language that is about to pour out of my mouth, and restraining myself from grabbing them by the neck and dragging them out of there ~ all the while I'm trying and failing to pretend to look calm and relaxed as I have students and their parents coming up to me and saying, "Hello, Ms. C.  Are you enjoying your summer so far?"

After about a half an hour of my own personal hell with these two crazy kids causing a raucous in the library, we finally left with my mother's new reads in my arms and the sound of the public cheering at our departure.

Peony in Love happened to be one of those books that I picked up for my mother between unlocking bathroom doors and chasing the elevator up several flights of stairs.  If something about a book is able to grab my attention while chaos is erupting around me, then it has to be good.  And, yes, it was good.  It is so rich in Chinese culture, particularly in regards to their views on death and the afterlife and their views on women's roles in society.  Chinese women in the late 17th Century had few liberties.  Marriages were arranged by their fathers who sold their daughters for a hefty price.  Women were treated as objects whose sole purpose was to produce male heirs and satisfy their husbands, including providing them with concubines.  Young girls' feet were broken and bound to make them appear dainty and delicate and to keep them from walking too far out of the confines of their homes.  They passed their time painting, embroidering, and serving their family.  However, some women broke out of this traditional mold and became published poets and authors, an extremely rare accomplishment for women at the time.  And some of these women purportedly died of "love sickness," a condition thought to be brought upon from the reading of a popular Chinese opera.  This book is told from a "ghostly" perspective of a female character who dies from love sickness, but she instantly wins your heart over and allows you to appreciate your own ties to your own family ~ even if it involves a bit of chaos and a slick idea.

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks

Ahhhh!  School's out.  The weather is sunny, hot, and humid.  It's finally time to relax on the beach with a good book in one hand and a cold drink in the other while listening to the waves lap up against the shore; right?  WRONG!  I love summer, but this one has started off crazy.  Thankfully, however, the crazy is due to great circumstances rather than bad ones.

I finally got a permanent teaching placement!!  Woo-hoo!!  It's my dream job at my dream school working with colleagues and a principal whom I adore.  So as much as I thought it would break me (and sometimes it did), maybe schlepping through various school systems working as a pee-on for a couple years trying to get my foot in the door somewhere was worth it.  With the new job, of course, comes bigger responsibilities.  So I've been spending a lot of my time these two weeks filling out paperwork, ordering supplies for my new room, attending meetings, teaching summer school, and reading a ton of professional materials. Naturally, this has all left me with little time to read my own personal picks.  And I'm beginning to miss my reading routine.

My own personal picks these days have not been going smoothly, though.  I can't seem to find a book that holds my interest long enough.  Yes, I have a lot of excitement, stress, and adrenaline pumping through my body right now which does make it more difficult to focus.  But I'm also finding myself overly eager to discover that next great book that traps me between its pages and doesn't let me out until I've absorbed every last detail of its intrigue.  I've had to flip through three or four books before finally settling upon one.  And they all fall flat.

Because I loved Geraldine Brooks's People of the Book so much, I tried to read Year of Wonders.  It's the story of the plague that takes place in England during the late 1600s and follows the life of a village that is quarantined from the rest of the world until the plague has eventually run its course.  Some of the story is even based on actual people and events.  I love these types of books.  So I was ready to tear through this one.  But I found no suspense nor fascinating information about the time period or events to pull me into a sense of sympathy for this village and its people.  What I did find was its predictability and lackluster storytelling.  Unfortunately, it was an underwhelming read.  I think Geraldine Brooks is an amazing author and her attention to detail and research are evident in her writing.  I just did not care for this one, but it won't deter me from reading her others.