All Souls, by Michael Patrick MacDonald

So I finally finished my first of the senior summer reading books! Ambitiously I purchased all six at the start of the summer; admittedly I knew that this would probably be the only one I'd finish.

I knew I wanted to read this book because so many of my students have read and loved it over the past few years. There's something about a book with such a range of appeal that makes me want to read it regardless of its merit. In some cases I have been bitterly disappointed. But All Souls is every bit as grievous and appealing as my students have promised.

What I like most about the book is quite straightforward: the story. The focus is essentially on the author's mother, her eleven children, and growing up in the projects of South Boston in the seventies and eighties. Socially, it is about this horrid mobster snitch, Whitey Bulger, and about the busing riots (and the book really does explore race in uncomfortable ways, with the author's eventual faith in humanity holding strong in spite of the horrific race and class warfare that leads to the difficult life people lead in poor communities, such as this urban one). This book also deals really honestly with poverty, drugs, clothing, music, cockroaches--in other words, the stuff that defines everyday life. There are no "frills and furbelows," and what is most amazing is watching the author grow up to discover that his purportedly idyllic and close-knit community is actually a crime-and-drug-laden war zone in which the poor are played upon for profit. And yet the layers of denial continue! But there are always lies that we tell ourselves about our choices, our habits, our lifestyles, our community--and seeing those lies shattered is paramount to shattering one's own identity, which is what I think happens to poor MacDonald. Not that he lets us fully see it in him--and, fortunately, he returns to have faith in Southie (and himself) in the end. This is not an easy feat, considering the pain and loss and lies he and his mother endured. But it's certainly not a story of triumph, or good winning out over evil, or the power of love, or hope, or anything like that which we would prefer to have happen. It's just about what happened, and why, and that's it. You know... kind of like life.

What I disliked about the book is more a matter of style than anything else, really. Yes, the prose is lacking the modern artistry and polish that contemporary authors usually package along with their abstract-meaningful matte cover art; but this narrative doesn't need that florid stuff because it has the storyteller's voice, which is what matters most with any book and at the same time is so rare. In fact, it drives me crazy to see the number of writers today who are gifted crafters of words, yet clearly lack the storytelling muse (and yet they still keep writing, and writing, and writing...). So that's what I really, really appreciate about this book. The only thing that bothers me--more in retrospect than while I was reading--is the distinct distance between this memoir and its author. The memoir is more about his family and the general feeling of Southie than about the author in particular; though clearly his life is shaped by his impressions, which is what he needs to share. But now I want to know so much more about him, since except for the disco clothes and The Rat (I didn't grow up in Massachusetts, but I've lived here long enough to remember The Rat! But I haven't really been to Southie ever) we don't hear much about thisMacDonald. It's almost as if he thinks his siblings' stories are more important; and yet he clearly seems to have a charmed life as the sort-of "seventh son." And he's the one with the courage and voice to tell the tale! But his mother is clearly the heroine of the story, and of course now I want to meet her... perhaps she's been on Oprah? The author's perspectives on race are also disturbing and troublesome--honest, yes; but still white and rather painful save at the end. So I don't know if I want to read MacDonald's new book, but I certainly am curious to see what it is about.

In all, All Souls is a sad and honest book. I really couldn't put it down; people were making fun of me for picking it up in snatches, just to read a paragraph--it was that kind of book. The best kind: a real book, not a forced one, that lives and breathes (and stops, at times) organically, of its own accord.

The Second Family: How Adolescent Power is Challenging the American Family, by Dr. Ron Taffel & Melinda Blau

I know, I know... I shouldn't be reading these psychobabble books. But I really liked Dr. Taffel's Parenting By Heart, so I thought I'd check out his take on teens. And honestly? It was both a shocking and reassuring look into the world of young people today. Wow, do I feel old. And LUCKY.

Basically, the world of independence that we used to have to grow up and get a job to join is available around the age of ten or so these days. Parents/adults aren't much of a resource, because so often young people know more about navigating today's world than we do--it changes too rapidly. So whereas previous generations often had a real reverence for the wisdom of their elders, that's not as true today. Besides, marketing and money has changed the game--and if you can buy your own goods, what do you need the parents for? From online gambling to chat rooms to drugs, this book was a really disturbing look at why kids today fill the voids in their lives with bad habits--because ours is a "live and let live" society in which the family/school only serves as something to impose restrictions; and who wants those? So kids turn to their "peer group and popular culture" instead. And I find it most telling that pop culture is as important as friends--that's marketing at work for you! Essentially, though, adults are more important to kids than either side realizes--and so it's important to stay connected to your kids (this book was written primarly for parents, though he does mention teachers), even when they try to push you away.

One thing I don't like about this book is that Taffel gives pet names to his notions, such as the "empathetic envelope." Then again, the notions are pretty good, so I guess the names are rather irrelevant. But this book in so many other ways gave credence to my concerns about kids' lives today, and why it's so important to maintain expectations even in the face of opposition. Most of it is common sense nicely explained, and it's almost more of a book about contemporary, middle-class culture--a land of permissiveness, accessibility, moral relativism, and a lack of rituals for connection. While I often complain that these things make it difficult to be a teacher and a parent, they make it worse to be a child and adolescent!

In all, I learned a few important snippets:

that peer pressure is a myth;
that freedom is equated with comfort for most humans, and we always seek out what is most comfortable;
that suspending judgement about what kids do doesn't mean you can't have an opinion or an expectation;
that lying isn't considered wrong or even a moral issue any more, so kids (as well as adults) lie habitually;
that demanding respect is part of showing respect;
and that I want my son to grow up, preferably in a box, and definitely in the backwoods of Newfoundland, until he is thirty! Isn't there some Will Farrell movie about that one?

Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert

This book was recommended to me by a friend, and I wish I had read it at the start of the summer because it is so sad (at the beginning, at least) that it makes me feel much better about my own life!

Gilbert is a journalist and fiction writer who goes through a messy enough divorce to necessitate her taking a year off--which isn't really a year off, since it's a year to also be writing this book with a cash advance to do so--starting in Italy (the "Eat" section), then to her guru's ashram in India ("Pray"), and finally Indonesia ("Love"). While admittedly my favorite section was the first, it was encouraging to see this poor woman in a rather sad and pathetic state of loss and despair slowly pluck herself out. Of course, the rest of us have to go through crappy life stuff without the liesure of a year of reflection and focus... but Gilbert is actually, honestly funny, so there are lots of fun and interesting insights along the way. So far this is my favorite book of the summer (well, except maybe for Harry Potter).

I like the Italy part best, probably because it's the only one of the three that I have been to (plus I'm Italian so of course I think all things Italian are delicous in general). And also this section is about Italy's amazing food, and wine, and gelato, and other tasty treats available at all hours--in fact, my favorite memory of Rome is the huge, sweet dollar slices of watermelon (it was 50,000 lira pre-euro) available on the street stands all day and night (she doesn't mention them, which makes me wonder if they're still around). So Gilbert first left her problems mostly behind and wallowed in Rome, learning Italian and eating a lot, and then went on to her guru's ashram in India, which seems near an impossibility to folks like me, who would like to visit India but don't have a guru and have a hard time sitting still let alone meditating for more than about seven minutes. Gilbert chronicles her own struggles with this, and she has many epiphanies on her journey--she did in the Italy section as well, but she grows more serious and focused in India. The final section, Indonesia, is mostly about people, particulary Wayan and Felipe, and I think symbolizes Gilbert's return to a full life and connection with others--an integral part of her Italian and Indian stints was her self-isolation for the sake of preservation, and only after she has recovered from her past is she ready for what awaits her in her Indosian journey with a medicine man (and a medicine woman and an older diamond-dealer dude).

All in all, this is a sad but redemptive book that is, somewhat refreshingly, about a woman's search for God. Interestingly, Gilbert's focus on God lessens as her confidence in her faith and her connections to others strengthen, perhaps indicating our increased need for spirituality when we feel most disconnected? But it was refreshing to read an account of someone who wants to believe in a supreme deity, who goes through difficult times but ends in happier ones, and who conquers a few personal demons along the way.

Sort of a Huck-Finn-meets-Siddhartha, chick version. I really, really loved this book!