Imagine you are created – not born – to dwell in a perfect world in absolute harmony. Imagine that one fateful day, you make a choice that not only thrusts you into exile from paradise, but condemns all of creation to pay for your mistake. Imagine that you must then make your way in this hostile world without precedent to guide you….
Imagine.
That’s exactly what Tosca Lee does in her novel, Havah: The Story of Eve. With lush prose, she paints a sensual paradise before leading her readers through the crushing moments surrounding the fall, then into the abyss of unspeakable loss and guilt that follows. In fictionalizing the story of Havah (Eve), Lee courageously treads where many a Christian writer would fear to venture, wielding her imagination both creatively and responsibly.
I struggled, nonetheless, to relate to this Eve, whose relationship with her adam (man) after the fall is fraught with tension to the point of enmity. Even more disturbing is their dearth of communion with the One that Is. Though we’re given tantalizing, fleeting glimpses of Him in Eden, He all but disappears (though He is longed for) after the banishment and humanity’s relentless slide toward death.
Of course, that’s probably the point. But still – it made for bleak reading, especially after Kayin (Cain) kills Hevel (Abel), and what remains of the plot’s propelling tension unravels.
Though Lee is faithful to hint at humanity’s hope for rescue, at redemption from its fallen state, Havah ultimately lacks the wow factor I was looking for.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, book review
This book came to me via the roundabout recommendation of a woman who had been there – not to the Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, as Jamie Ford’s latest novel is titled, but to a Japanese internment camp, which encompasses a large part of this story.
Written by a man of Chinese descent with a thoroughly American name, it tells the story of another Chinese man, Henry Lee, whose backward glance into his past begins in 1986. That’s when a stash of possessions left by Japanese families as they were sent to internment camps is discovered in the basement of Seattle’s Panama Hotel. One of these belongings, a parasol, triggers Henry’s memories of Keiko Okabe, a Japanese girl he befriended in sixth grade. Though their friendship formed first as an alliance at their all-white school, their relationship soon blossomed into something much more, which continued even after Keiko was sent with her family to a Japanese internment camp. Not until half-a-lifetime later does Henry’s son, Marty, learn what really happened to his father during those wartime years, and the truth, unveiled at last, brings with it the hope of healing to their troubled relationship.
Ford tells his story in split narrative: young Henry (1942-45), and old Henry (1986). His prose, though simple and direct, yields emotional impact that ranged for me from shame over this very un-American part of my country’s past; to exasperation over Henry’s unhealthy relationships with his father and his son; to optimism, prompted by words such as Keiko’s father’s as he’s carted from his home: “You just gave me hope, Henry….And sometimes hope is enough to get you through anything.”
Ford saves some surprises for the end that provide a more bitingly satisfying conclusion than I anticipated. A coming-of-age tale and love story all in one, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet offers not only a glimpse into an unfortunate period of American history, but also the hope of triumph after adversity.
Written by a man of Chinese descent with a thoroughly American name, it tells the story of another Chinese man, Henry Lee, whose backward glance into his past begins in 1986. That’s when a stash of possessions left by Japanese families as they were sent to internment camps is discovered in the basement of Seattle’s Panama Hotel. One of these belongings, a parasol, triggers Henry’s memories of Keiko Okabe, a Japanese girl he befriended in sixth grade. Though their friendship formed first as an alliance at their all-white school, their relationship soon blossomed into something much more, which continued even after Keiko was sent with her family to a Japanese internment camp. Not until half-a-lifetime later does Henry’s son, Marty, learn what really happened to his father during those wartime years, and the truth, unveiled at last, brings with it the hope of healing to their troubled relationship.
Ford tells his story in split narrative: young Henry (1942-45), and old Henry (1986). His prose, though simple and direct, yields emotional impact that ranged for me from shame over this very un-American part of my country’s past; to exasperation over Henry’s unhealthy relationships with his father and his son; to optimism, prompted by words such as Keiko’s father’s as he’s carted from his home: “You just gave me hope, Henry….And sometimes hope is enough to get you through anything.”
Ford saves some surprises for the end that provide a more bitingly satisfying conclusion than I anticipated. A coming-of-age tale and love story all in one, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet offers not only a glimpse into an unfortunate period of American history, but also the hope of triumph after adversity.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Enemies of the People, book review
In a departure from my usual fare, Enemies of the People: My Family’s Journey to America is a work of non-fiction by ABC correspondent Kati Marton. This memoir recounts Marton’s journey into her parents’ past when her insatiable yearning for the truth prompts her to request her parents’ AVO files (the AVO being Cold War communist Hungary’s secret police). Before she was granted access, Marton was warned that reading the AVO’s copious files would open for her a Pandora’s box, and so it did – not regarding the AVO’s nefarious activities in the name of “protecting” Hungary’s interests, but regarding her own parents’ willingness to bend, in the end, to accommodate them.
Enemies of the People offers insights into a time and place largely unfamiliar to most Americans. And though my own interest in this subject was heightened by a recent visit to Hungary – during which I gained some understanding of its history – I was surprised to learn how very little I really knew.
I found myself reading and rereading passages, trying to absorb them – not because they were ill-written (they’re not; the book is written with a journalist’s incisive finesse), but because what is recorded seemed so unbelievable. True, I wasn’t interested in all the detailed minutia that Marton includes to support her account, and I was surprised to find a journalist lapsing often into self-conscious sentimentality – a hazard, I suppose, of writing about a painful subject so near to one’s heart. I did appreciate, however, the abundance of family photos, which help to tell the tale - many of which Morton obtained from AVO files.
I suspect that even those familiar with Cold War Europe will find something to intrigue them in these pages. Marton’s memoir is by turn gut-wrenching and eye-opening, and most readers will find it worth a peek.
Enemies of the People offers insights into a time and place largely unfamiliar to most Americans. And though my own interest in this subject was heightened by a recent visit to Hungary – during which I gained some understanding of its history – I was surprised to learn how very little I really knew.
I found myself reading and rereading passages, trying to absorb them – not because they were ill-written (they’re not; the book is written with a journalist’s incisive finesse), but because what is recorded seemed so unbelievable. True, I wasn’t interested in all the detailed minutia that Marton includes to support her account, and I was surprised to find a journalist lapsing often into self-conscious sentimentality – a hazard, I suppose, of writing about a painful subject so near to one’s heart. I did appreciate, however, the abundance of family photos, which help to tell the tale - many of which Morton obtained from AVO files.
I suspect that even those familiar with Cold War Europe will find something to intrigue them in these pages. Marton’s memoir is by turn gut-wrenching and eye-opening, and most readers will find it worth a peek.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
My Soul to Keep, book review
Seems like I waited years to hear more from Melanie Wells and was thrilled to finally spot her latest on Amazon. In My Soul to Keep, the third of the Day of Evil series, psychology professor Dylan Foster’s young friend, Christine Zocci, celebrates her sixth birthday at a park where a little boy, Nicholas, is snatched by a stranger. As the police commence their search, every clue fizzles to failure, while Christine’s eerie connection to the boy leads Dylan on an investigation of her own. Dodging the mysterious Peter Terry’s attempts to thwart her, Dylan remains dogged to the end in her quest for the truth.
Who would not want to spend time with this charmingly flawed, outspoken heroine (entirely too prim a term for the intrepid Dr. Dylan Foster)? A thoroughly beguiling Christian, neck-deep in boyfriend woes, who freely admits that, “if Christianity were a merit-based society, I would have gotten kicked out years ago. ... I never go to Bible study, don’t keep a prayer journal or do the morning ‘quiet time’ thing. I only remember to pray in emergency situations. The truth is, I really don’t have time or energy for all that checklisty stuff.”
Makes me wish I could join her for one of her famous glasses of pinot grigio.
In short, this book has it all: taut pacing, spicy voice, a dash of romance – a superbly crafted suspense. If pressed to provide a criticism, I would offer up only this: the cover, in its sepia tones, conveys a grimness not reflected in the story. Don’t let the macabre artwork scare you away. If ever a book should not be judged by its cover, this one’s it.
May the next wait not be so long for a Melanie Wells novel, whether it’s another installment in this series, or something entirely new. In either case, if it’s anything like My Soul to Keep, it’ll be well worth the wait.
Highly recommended.
Who would not want to spend time with this charmingly flawed, outspoken heroine (entirely too prim a term for the intrepid Dr. Dylan Foster)? A thoroughly beguiling Christian, neck-deep in boyfriend woes, who freely admits that, “if Christianity were a merit-based society, I would have gotten kicked out years ago. ... I never go to Bible study, don’t keep a prayer journal or do the morning ‘quiet time’ thing. I only remember to pray in emergency situations. The truth is, I really don’t have time or energy for all that checklisty stuff.”
Makes me wish I could join her for one of her famous glasses of pinot grigio.
In short, this book has it all: taut pacing, spicy voice, a dash of romance – a superbly crafted suspense. If pressed to provide a criticism, I would offer up only this: the cover, in its sepia tones, conveys a grimness not reflected in the story. Don’t let the macabre artwork scare you away. If ever a book should not be judged by its cover, this one’s it.
May the next wait not be so long for a Melanie Wells novel, whether it’s another installment in this series, or something entirely new. In either case, if it’s anything like My Soul to Keep, it’ll be well worth the wait.
Highly recommended.
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