The Great White Shark of Pain

I’ve been meaning to write a post on David Foster Wallace but hadn’t gotten around to it, mainly because I hadn’t gotten around to reading The Pale King yet. Well, now I have an excuse - D.T. Max has just written Every Love Story is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace (reviewed today in the New York Times). Eventually I will read Max’s biography, but I do remember the New Yorker article on which it was based, which is well worth the read.

The other reason I hadn’t posted on David Foster Wallace is because, even four years after his suicide, I am still deeply saddened by it. I’d enjoyed DFW’s work and admired him as a person, not just as an artist. Unfortunately, I don’t have even a shred of his immense talent, so when I try to say something meaningful about his work or his death, I am at a loss for words. Fortunately, he was not. In his brief life he left behind a couple of novels and a boat load of essays and short stories, all of which I can load up on my Kindle and read and re-read. When I’m not feeling too depressed.

As noted in The Times review,  DFW referred to clinical depression as “The Great White Shark of pain.” What an apt metaphor!  I should’ve made that the title of my blog. Or, if ever I have a career as professional wrestler or mixed martial artist, that is totally going to be my nom de guerre.

Since we are discussing depression and its metaphors, Andrew Solomon’s The Noonday Demon is an excellent book on the subject. Both memoir and research, it gives you a raw and painful understanding of this crippling disease. I read it about 10 years ago and it’s really stuck with me.

World's Lamest Blogger

Literally.  Due to an excruciating back injury 2 months ago, with concurrent sports-related over-use injuries (and general decrepitude, it seems) I have been down for the count. Since sitting was painful and to be avoided at all costs, I did not spend much time at the computer. I have been reading plenty, though, because I can do that laying flat on my stomach, or standing up (only 2 comfortable positions), or while walking (gently!) on the treadmill. So, I hope to do some posts about the books I've been reading during this time of recuperation and rehabilitation. Some short posts, obviously, since sitting for more than a short time is just asking for trouble.

Right now I am halfway through Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel and loving it. It is a fascinating take on the Thomas Cromwell, Henry VII and Anne Boleyn story. Even though I am familiar with the history and know how it will all turn out (off with her head!), it is still a page-turner. The writing is that good and Cromwell is such a fascinating character. One small criticism - it is told in the 3rd person and sometimes I don't know who is speaking/thinking, or who the author is referring to - Cromwell or someone else. A number of times I've had to stop and re-read paragraphs to try to figure it out. Nevertheless, I am savoring this book, and looking forward to Bring Up the Bodies.

Oceanography for Beginners

 
 The Wave: In Pursuit of the Rogues, Freaks and Giants of the Ocean, by Susan Casey

Did you know that worldwide, 2 large ships sink each week, on average? Many of them go down without a trace, everyone on board swallowed into the unforgiving ocean. I was shocked at how many container ships, fishing boats and oil rigs are destroyed by mammoth waves each year, and the loss of life that accompanies these shipwrecks. Casey interviews scientists, surfers, ship pilots and marine insurers in order to understand ocean waves.

Although the surfing chapters of the book read like the best adventure stories, I would have preferred a little less Laird Hamilton and a little more science. In fact, I initially thought the “freaks” in the title referred to the surfers that Casey profiles - adrenaline junkies who travel all over the world chasing the biggest waves, risking serious injury and death. But apparently the author is referring to the freak waves that rise unexpectedly and can cause tremendous destruction. According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPOC), average wave heights have been rising steadily (by more than 25% between the 1960’s and 1990’s) and the waves are getting faster, too. It doesn’t just *seem* like we’ve had more tropical storms and hurricanes of late - we really have.

Casey is a solid writer and this was a rollicking good read. Really, my only criticism of the book is that by focusing so much on surfing it gives short shrift to the bigger story, which is the increase in large, unpredictable ocean waves and what that means for ocean going vessels, coastal communities, the environment, and, yes, surfers.

Not Kurt Vonnegut, but in the same vein

I Am Not Sidney Poitier, by Percival Everett

“I am the ill-starred fruit of an hysterical pregnancy, and surprisingly, odd though I might be, I am not hysterical myself. I’m rather calm, in fact; some would say waveless. I am tall and dark and look for the world like Mr. Sidney Poitier, something my poor disturbed and now deceased mother could not have known when I was born, when she named me Not Sidney Poitier.”

Thus begins the wacky coming-of-age tale of Not Sidney Poitier, whose mother had the foresight to invest in Ted Turner’s fledgling media company before she died, making young Not Sidney a very *rich* orphan. (Don’t let the Dickensian opening lines fool you.) He moves in with Ted Turner, whose  manic musings are among the funniest parts of this novel, until he is old enough to strike out on his own. Alas, he doesn’t get very far - he is arrested and imprisoned for Driving While Black in rural Georgia.  (“Once you leave Atlanta you’re in Georgia,” Ted had presciently warned.) Misadventures abound as Not Sydney buys his way into Morehouse College (the descriptions of his negotiations with the college development officer are hilarious), gets a girlfriend and investigates a murder, all narrated in his deadpan delivery. Along the way Everett manages to send up issues of race, class and identity in America.

This is a screamingly funny novel, with the scathing wit and absurdist situations that can be found in Vonnegut’s best work, and that’s what I was reminded of (pleasantly so) as I read it. Not Kurt Vonnegut, but then again, who is? Quite an achievement, nevertheless.

A Formidable Woman

Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Stout

I absolutely loved this book and am irritated with myself for waiting so long to read it. It is a novel comprised of loosely-linked short stories, each of which can stand on its own, set in a small community in rural Maine. The stories span several decades, and a few are more than a little disturbing. What links the stories is the prickly character of Olive Kitteridge, who appears in all of them, in some as the main character and in others only peripherally.

A retired school teacher, wife and mother, Olive is a difficult woman - strong-willed, sharply intelligent, with a biting wit. Although she is fictional, she felt far more real to me than the living, breathing people in my own life. I felt like I understood her, even when I found myself cringing at the things she said or did. Through Olive and her community we experience growing older, love and loss, loneliness and regret. I found this book incredibly moving. I finished it several weeks ago, and yet I still find myself thinking about it, and the characters, particularly Olive. It has been a while since a novel had this kind of impact on me. That is why I read.

Northwest Wonderland

The Highest Tide and Border Songs, by Jim Lynch


I gave The Highest Tide to my son to read, since it is aimed at teens, and on his recommendation I decided to read it for myself. Thirteen-year-old Miles O’Malley is a pint-sized insomniac and budding naturalist who spends his time in the Puget Sound tidal flats collecting specimens and studying ocean life. Both a coming of age tale and a primer on marine biology, this novel details one summer in Miles’s life, when he finds a giant squid and is suddenly the focus of intense media attention. Meanwhile, his parents are discussing divorce, he has a crush on his self-destructive former babysitter, and his oldest friend, the local psychic, warns of a coming high tide. I really enjoyed this book - it is funny and sad with a great main character, and it should appeal to adults as well as young readers.

Having read that, I immediately sought out Jim Lynch’s second novel, Border Songs. While the first book was set near Olympia, WA, this one is set at the US Canadian Border in northwestern Washington State. And while the protagonist of the first book is really short, this time we have 6’8” (2.03m) Brandon Vanderkloot - rookie border patrol agent, severe dyslexic (and possibly autistic), and compulsive landscape artist. Instead of obsessing over marine life, like Miles, Brandon is fascinated by birds and nature. The eye for detail that makes him a good artist and birdwatcher also makes him freakishly adept at spotting illegal activity along the border. After a few high profile busts, he, like Miles, has to deal with unwanted media attention.

I liked this book even more than the first one. The cast of characters is richer - in particular Brandon’s father, a struggling dairy farmer, whose wife is suffering from dementia. Then there is the Vanderkloots’ Canadian neighbor, a retired college professor who likes to provoke his more conservative neighbors to the south, and his marijuana-smuggling daughter, the object of Brandon’s affections. There are some laugh-out-loud funny moments in this book, and also wry observations on the build up of security in the wake of 9/11 and US-Canadian relations. In addition, there’s a great sense of place and a clear appreciation of the natural beauty that surrounds us in this part of the world. I understand Jim Lynch has another book coming out soon, set in Seattle. Perhaps this one will feature a main character of average stature. I can’t wait to find out.

The Intractable Russian Soul

How Gogol*Explains the Post-Soviet World

Here is an intriguing notion from a political science wonk: in order to understand the former Soviet Union, you need only go back to the 19th century and immerse yourself in the masters of Russian literature. Forget those poli sci textbooks - you will find no insight there. Instead, view a production of The Cherry Orchard, dust off your copies of Anna Karenina and The Brothers Karamazov. And pay special attention to that brilliant satirist, Nikolai Gogol. In the March/April issue of Foreign Policy, Thomas de Waal, a senior associate at the Carnegie Endowment, shows how modern day life in Russia, Georgia and Ukraine imitates art in How Gogol*Explains the Post-Soviet World. It is a thought provoking premise, and totally true.

Which brings me to Elif Batuman’s fine book of essays (referenced in the article) The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them, which I’d been meaning to blog about. Really it’s more of a love letter to Russian literature, and a very funny one at that. If you love Russian literature (and who doesn’t?!) I urge you to read Batuman’s book. 

Wasted in the Heartland

Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town, by Nick Reding

This unblinking look at the problem of drug addiction in small town, rural America profiles Oelwein, Iowa and the scourge of crystal methamphetamine. The author has a provocative - and convincing - premise: that the meth epidemic in rural America is a direct result of changes to agriculture and the food production industry. Reding calls methedrine “the most American drug” because its stimulating properties enabled people to work harder and longer, making it especially popular among manual laborers, people working multiple jobs, and soldiers on the battlefield. It is also inexpensive and easy to make. The farm crisis of the 80’s, the rise of Big Agra and the corporate takeover of the meat packing plants resulted in eliminated jobs and slashed wages. Forced to work more jobs or more hours, or travel farther to find work, many workers turned to meth to help them stay awake and stay afloat financially. Also complicit in the meth epidemic are the US’s anti-drug policies and the power of Big Pharma.

There are shocking and disturbing tales of meth addiction, violence, lives ruined, as well as the perfidy of Big Agra. But there are also profiles of everyday heroes - the county prosecutor, mayor, and especially, town doctor, all of whom stay in this dying town and try to save it. Methland is well researched, with the history and chemistry of the drug, and some surprising findings (e.g., Hitler was likely a meth addict.) The book is always informative and in many parts, darkly funny. I recommend it.

Canines and Lupines

Reading Scoreboard, Baby left such a bad taste in my mouth that I sought out some lighter fare to recover. I started with The Last Werewolf, by Glen Duncan, which was probably not the best choice, since it was pretty dark and violent. The protagonist, Jake, is the last known member of a species that is going extinct. He’s over 200 years old and sick of living. Meanwhile, there is a paramilitary organization that is tracking him and trying to kill him. Jake is putting his affairs in order and getting ready to die when he discovers a reason to live. This is not for Twihards or the young adult audience - too much sex and brutality. Maybe it was the mood I was in, but I didn’t like it very much - a little too disturbing.

After that I tucked into Started Early, Took my Dog, by Kate Atkinson. This is her fourth book featuring private investigator Jackson Brodie, and since I loved the other three, I was eager to read this one. Although I enjoyed it considerably, I don’t think it is as good as the previous three (Case Histories, One Good Turn, and When Will There be Good News). For one thing, I missed the tart-tongued Edinburgh police detective Louise Monroe. For another, the plot was less intricate and compelling - no kidnapped doctors, no dead Eastern European hookers washing ashore - just a long ago illegal adoption and some police corruption. Not all of the plot threads were tied up at the end, so perhaps they will be revisited in another book? I don’t mean to be picky because even on her worst day, Atkinson is better than most writers, and this was an enjoyable book.

I recently caught the 3-part BBC television miniseries Case Histories, which was shown on PBS. The title is somewhat misleading, since it is actually based on the first three books, not just Case Histories. Although some plot elements were left out or simplified, this was a fantastic British mystery series. Jason Isaacs played Brodie and he was perfect for the role. The rest of the casting was top notch as well. 

Sickening and Appalling

Scoreboard, Baby - A Story of College Football, Crime and Complicity, by Ken Armstrong and Nick Perry

“Crime and Complicity” indeed. The crimes perpetrated by these college football players include rape, armed robbery, felony assault, shooting, animal cruelty and DUI. Thorough investigative reporting reveals how these thugs, most of whom were academically challenged (to put it kindly), were able to keep their scholarships and play football, despite mounting evidence that they were dangerous criminals. Coaches, university administrators, and, most outrageously of all, judges and prosecutors were only too willing to look the other way or give them second chances, all because of their champion football team. I was especially disheartened by the portrayal of the King Co. prosecutor’s office, which dragged their feet on a rape investigation and then eventually declined to press charges (despite strong evidence).

The book is a thrilling read, whether or not you like football (I don’t, particularly). At times, however, I found myself so repulsed that I had to put it down. Reading about the rape of a college freshman (and the subsequent foot-dragging investigation) was particularly difficult.

Very few people come off looking good in this book. Coach “Slick Rick” Neuheisel’s perfidy had me shaking my head in disgust, but I can’t say that was news. Still, the sheer number of people who seem to have lost their moral compass was surprising. Nonetheless, there were some honorable people, including the brave rape victim, Marie, and Seattle Police Detective Maryann Parker. About the only other bright note was football player Anthony Kelley, who hit the books and discovered there was more to life than football, going on to win a prestigious scholarship to study abroad.

This is a damning indictment of the UW football program, division I intercollegiate athletics, and our sports-worshiping society. Sadly, I don’t think anything will ever change. Big money has thoroughly corrupted college sports.