Book Review: The Plot Against America by Philip Roth

I had to check to make sure The Plot Against America was fiction. Perhaps that makes me gullible. I think that makes it a really good novel.

There's a reason Philip Roth has won the Pulitzer. He’s a great story-teller, and everyone should read his books.

New York Times’ Paul Berman does a much better job extolling the wonder of this book, so I’ll leave the rest of the praise for him. What I can say is that this novel is terrific, but it’s a real struggle for me to finish it.

It's long-winded, sort of like your grandpa (my dziadek) is telling me a story about his life, except it’s much better because it’s a story—and you can't tell. You get lost in the words and, before you know it, night has come and you’re still reading.

Set at the beginning of the Second Great World War, it's the story about a Jewish family from a tiny suburb of Newark, New Jersey. There are a vast number of characters, and they do not all stay in the story. They come and go as transiently as the members of your own circle of family and friends. Yet the story is told in a singular voice, that of the youngest son.

Through his eyes, I watched Charles Lindbergh, the first pilot to complete a solo flight from New York City to Paris, France, become a politician. And as quickly as that, he becomes the president of the United States. But Lindy has an agenda—he is in league with Nazi Germany and it terrifies the Newark Jews.

Slowly, but surely, we watch the United States descend into a chaos that chills the bone, even though you know it’s not real. Roth uses his words to make you think it’s real; not just a story, he teaches you about the time period.

For instance, The Plot Against America introduced me to the historical meaning of a party line—having to be on a phone line with several people on it at the same time because you can't afford to have your own private line.

This book is chilling because it makes you wonder if it really happened (or could have happened). Berman says it best, “The novel is sinister, vivid, dreamlike, preposterous, and, at the same time, creepily plausible.”

This is one I’m recommending to everyone.

Book Review: Silent on the Moor by Deanna Raybourn

Dear Internet,

How do I convey my utmost respect for the beguiling Lady Julia Grey series ? My words simply spill out exhorbitantly when I attempt this endeavour, and the verbiage is enfused with such hyperbole that you'll think I've gone off on a bender or something.

And that is my attempt at trying to write like Deanna Raybourn. It simply can't be done.

Darling, darling, darling Deanna Raybourn. Thank you for saving my faith in romance novels. Twilight didn't do it. Neither did The Time-Traveller's Wife, The Notebook, nor anything by Debbie Macomber (Sorry Debs).

With that first electric kiss in the shadows of a gypsy camp, you made my heart sing. I was so taken, I had to text a friend.

The last time I was so moved by a book, I was sitting on my mother's couch, weeping over a bespeckled Catholic school boy.

Just go out and find Silent on the Moor. It's on-sale March 1 and it makes me smile so. (But don't forget to read the first two!)

Love,

Get Thee to a Punnery!

Book Review: Laika by Nick Abadzis

I should have known this book would be sad. I should have known, because I know the basic story of Laika, the first animal in space. Launched in 1957 in Sputnik II, Laika survived a total of five hours in space before succumbing to heat exhaustion and stress. She became the first animal to orbit the earth, and the first to die in space.

Nick Abadzis details the short life and death of Laika (Kudryavka, to the scientists and lab technicians who knew her best—she is actually renamed by the scientists shortly before launch), her trainer Yelena, and Koralev, the chief designer of the Sputniks in his graphic novel.

After the successful launch of Sputnik I, Koralev is ordered by Khrushchev to build and launch another satelitte to be launched by the anniversary of the October Revolution, a deadline only a month away. To make the launch stand out from the original Sputnik, they decide to send an animal. Little is known about the conditions a living organism can withstand in space, and with such a short deadline, they can make it a one-way trip.

These are the facts surrounding Laika's doomed flight. To fill out the story, Abadzis creates a world for Laika, focusing on her relationship with her trainer, Yelena. The real sorrow lies in how this relationship grows, and must ultimately be cut off. There is really nothing Yelena or anyone else can do to prevent the dog's death, and it makes the launch a sombre affair.

As the launch approaches the characters (the historical figures, indeed) try to rationalize to themselves and each other that the dog's death is for a great cause, but they cannot deny that it is a sad way for an animal to die.

I've never read anything so sad as this simple story about a Russian dog in space. It's made even more poignant by the final page of the book, a quote taken from Oleg Gazenko, the scientist who chose Laika:

"The more time passes, the more I'm sorry about it. We did not learn enough from the mission to justify the death of the dog."

The facts exist, cold and austere. Abadzis gives Laika a new story, one that shows that she was loved, even as an experimental animal. Her death may have been unnecessary, but she will always be remembered.

This is an excellent graphic novel, but I wouldn't read it if you've just lost a pet.

It's Okay to Eat Food* Book Review: In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto by Michael Pollan

* Food being the operative word.

In Michael Pollan's newest book, a response of sorts to his previous work, The Omnivore's Dilemma, he suggests that it's okay to eat food. In fact, he has a manifesto: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

With that, he begins In Defense of Food, a roughly two hundred page essay on the problem with what we consider food today, and how we can change the way we eat.

Pollan has a real issue with the western diet, which largely consists of processed foods, made from grain like wheat and soybean. According to him, much of the diseases found in western civilization, like cancer, heart disease, and diabetes, are linked to these foods. Never before in history has man been so "underfed yet so undernourished." The reason we eat so much, yet remain so unhealthy is because the food is so highly processed. Much of the nutrition from processed foods is removed, and then replaced by vitamins, and 'nutrients' like omega-3 fatty acids by scientists. But, because we know so little about the science behind nutrients and how our bodies absorb them (even after at least a couple of centuries of experimentation), we aren't actually getting any healthier from these "healthy foods."

He laments the loss of our former diet inspiration—our mothers—and vilifies nutritionism as a demon who has taken our cultural diet and turned it into a mass-produced industry.

Pollan's book joins a number of voices who are now calling for a return to whole foods. And with the rise of the slow movement, it feels like western society is slowly but surely moving towards a healthier diet.

Of course, while Pollan's manifesto is an important one, it doesn't offer any insight into how an entire population can achieve this, only the individual. Organic, whole food diets are expensive, and cannot feasibly support an entire country's population. Weight and health are proportional to income. The people most likely to suffer are the ones who need a change in lifestyle the most—the poor. But when a Big Mac a day costs less than a full week's worth of groceries, and you don't have to make it yourself, it's hard to change your lifestyle.

Still, for those of us who can afford to adopt Pollan's ideas, it's worth a try. Today we are encouraged to do everything as quickly as possible, but switching to a diet of whole foods automatically slows down your lifestyle. Even if you don't eat "mostly plants," you're already a step ahead of the curve.

Rating: Five stars

Book Review: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I've never read a Cormac McCarthy novel. I was at the library, fifteen minutes before closing time, and I couldn't find a single book in all of the trade paperback section to take with me. Finally my eyes settled upon The Road and I grabbed it instantly.

I didn't know much about it, other than the cannibalism, which I spoiled for myself (and perhaps you as well) by reading an article about the soon-to-be-made film version. Regardless, the scene which I ended up ruining for myself was much worse than anything I could have imagined, mainly because of McCarthy's writing. Stark and rich with words that I can't rightly say I understand, it's a novel about family, hope, and survival.

Creating a post-apocalyptic world helps make it easier for the reader to bond with the characters because their survival in a world that exists outside of our own (a world a handful of people could one day see; cause, let's face it, not ALL of us will...) hinges upon staying together. By not telling the reader WHY all of this has happened, McCarthy forces the reader to consider the characters alone. Frail creatures who could be any of us.

The end is heartbreaking, but ultimately satisfying. I was convinced throughout the novel that This Would Not End Well. Indeed, while your heart bleeds for what ultimately happens, there is still hope. Ultimately, that's what McCarthy wants us to believe. Despite all of the pain and suffering one must go through...there is always hope.