Category Archives: What I’m Reading This Week

Random Thoughts about Reading a Collection of Raymond Carver’s Short Stories

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A friend of mine gave me a used copy of Where I’m Calling From: New and Selected Stories by Raymond Carver. She had picked up the book from the free shelves at our library, which is a section of books that have been donated by people who need to make room in their homes for more books. Anyone can come in, peruse those shelves, take what they want, and leave — no library card needed. People can keep the books, pass them along to friends, or donate them back to the library. Note: I’m keeping the copy of Carver’s short stories. My heirs can argue over who gets to inherit it.

My paperback edition of Carver’s stories was published in 1989 by Vintage Books: A Division of Random House. My particular copy has an intense black-and-white photo of Carver staring at his readers. The whites of Carver’s eyes are abnormally bright, suggesting an effect created by the photographer. Carver is neither smiling nor frowning, but looks like he could have done either after the shutter clicked. Every time I look at his photo, I wonder what he is thinking. This book is still in print, but the updated cover art isn’t nearly as interesting as Marion Ettlinger’s photograph of Carver, with its Mona Lisa vibe.

After my friend finished reading Carver’s book, she thought I’d like to read it. Sure, why not. I hadn’t remembered reading any of Carver’s work before. (Probably not the only gaping hole in my literary education. I still haven’t read a single Colleen Hoover novel or War and Peace.)

There is no way I’m going to take on reviewing Carver’s short story collection. Literary critics have done that. But having read the book, cover to cover, I feel compelled to share some thoughts.

If you write short stories, you might want to read Raymond Carver, not because you need to write like him, but because you will learn about craft from him. So here, and in no particular order, are random thoughts about Carver’s stories:

  1. He writes great dialogue, conversations filled with irony, skepticism, avoidance, misunderstandings, and sarcasm — the way angry, unhappy, disillusioned, conflicted people talk.
  2. He writes great first-person point of view narration. It’s not easy to create a character’s narrative voice that can reflect, ponder, and think about the past and the present without becoming oppressive or irritating. It’s a skill that when done right looks so easy, but when done wrong sounds like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard.
  3. He creates characters who come to life, stirring up emotions of dread, disgust, helplessness, loss, confusion, regret, grief, boredom, uselessness, and addiction. Carver has been called a postmodernist and a minimalist. He writes about real life in a stark manner with bruised and broken characters, leaving readers to fill in between the lines, and he doesn’t provide tidy endings. But you don’t need to go all postmodernist to admire and learn from Carver’s character development.
  4. I read Carver’s stories before bed. Some of his characters drank so much alcohol, I worried I would be hungover in the morning. They lit up one cigarette after another, filling ashtrays to overflowing. Occasionally, a joint gets passed around. The dulling of the senses is a motif in many of Carver’s stories, but it’s usually not the story. It’s an atmosphere created, one that made me psychosomatically nauseous as I read through a powerfully told, unsettling story.
  5. I didn’t like all of Carver’s stories. To me, some of them were little more than a short conversation, and I felt something was missing. This was especially true when the dialogue pulled me in, making me want more of a story. Most of the stories I didn’t like were in the first part of the book, but I kept reading because it was Raymond Carver, who is considered one of the finest short story writers in American literature.
  6. But I loved a lot of his stories, usually the longer ones, which were in the second half of his book. My favorites from this collection: “The Third Thing That Killed My Father Off”, “So Much Water So Close to Home”, “Careful”, “Where I’m Calling From”, “Chef’s House”, “Fever”, “Feathers”, “Cathedral”, “A Small Good Thing”, “Boxes”, “Elephant”, and “Blackbird Pie.”
  7. Carver’s story titles throw subtle, understated jabs at the situations in his stories. The title “A Small Good Thing” nods to a sad irony in a tragic story. The title “Where I’m Calling From” is layered with multiple meanings, including its play on the phrase, where I’m coming from. The one-word title “Boxes” is brilliant in its ability to cover the physical and the metaphorical dimensions of a dysfunctional family.
  8. Carver sometimes weaves absurdly unexpected events into the mundane. And they’re believable because Carver believes them. For example, in the story “Feathers” a city couple goes to dinner at a country couple’s house. The country couple have an ornery peacock that likes to come into the house at night, a plaster-of-Paris cast of repulsive teeth that decorates the top of their TV, and the ugliest baby one can imagine. My take-away: Don’t be afraid to throw curveballs in your story.
  9. Even though some of Carver’s characters believe they are happy, they actually live vapid lives, teetering in the balance. So, when a complication occurs, their lives become complete crap, miring them in muck that will stick to them, even should they pull themselves out of the cesspool. The stories I liked best reveal a before, followed by a pivotal change, which lets loose a wrecking ball headed toward at least one of the characters. We don’t get to see the impact; we are left to imagine it.
  10. Less is more. Carver’s stories say so much by not saying all of it. Every word counts for something, and he never nags. I’m reminded of Grandma’s advice: Put your jewelry on, then take one piece off. Or Marilyn Monroe’s advice: Don’t make your hairdo too perfect, or no one will notice the rest of you. You know, just “kill your little darlings.”
  11. Of course, I looked up Carver’s own story. He died of lung cancer. He was an alcoholic, but found sobriety. He had a failed marriage, but found a second love. He died young, at 50, but he achieved a literary immortality.

A shout-out to my kind friend who handed me a collection of Carver’s stories and said, “I thought you might like to read these.” She was right.

And I recently discovered I won’t have to read War & Peace because PBS is airing it as a miniseries, starring James Norton, a dreamy British actor, who I came to adore while watching Grantchester. That means I have time to re-read David Copperfield and Huckleberry Finn then read Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver and James by Percival Everett.

    Book Launch of Sister Lumberjack by Candace Simar (Release Date April 16, 2024)

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    Sister Lumberjack, release date April 16, 2024

    On St. Patrick’s Day, I drove two hours and ten minutes to Brainerd, Minnesota, to attend a book launch for Sister Lumberjack, Candace Simar’s newest historical novel. My daughter-in-law agreed to go with me, even though she hadn’t read any of Simar’s books yet. But she loves to read, so she’s always willing to do book things with me.

    I was intrigued by the story and its characters. The year is 1893, Minnesota winter is approaching, and lumberjacks are returning to the camps. Solveig Rognaldson, sixty years old and recently widowed, hopes to hire on as a cook in a lumberjack camp. Cooks earn high wages, and she needs the money to pay the mortgage on her beloved farm, or the bank will repossess it. However, logging companies don’t hire women. Nels Jensen, a young man struggling with the drink, knows he needs to grow up. He plans to work in the camps again, but he discovers he has been blacklisted. Sister Magdalena, a young, atypical nun, sells hospital tickets to lumberjacks as a form of insurance, should they get injured and need medical care. These three people come to know one another at Starkweather Timber, a logging camp where nothing runs smoothly.

    Fun fact: There was a real nun who lived in Minnesota and sold hospital tickets to lumberjacks. When Simar discovered this golden nugget, she was inspired to write her book, which she said is a fictionalized account of that nun. I have to say, the idea of a nun traveling from one logging camp to another, sometimes while wearing snowshoes, captured my imagination. I was all in for a book launch in Brainerd.

    Does this make me a historical fiction groupie? Perhaps! Author Candace Simar couldn’t believe that my daughter-in-law and I traveled more than two hours to come to her book launch. Several times Simar asked, “You really came all that way for my book launch?”

    Yep, we did. But I explained to Simar that my daughter-in-law and I also made a day of it. We went to Christmas Point, a large, lovely gift shop, where we had a tasty lunch. Then to kill more time, we went to Target. If any of the local bookstores had been open, we would have gone to one of them instead. But it was Sunday, and I’m guessing the booksellers were all at home reading.

    So, how did I become a devoted Candace Simar fan? Well, historical fiction is one of my favorite genres, and I read Simar’s historical novel Shelterbelts, which is set in Minnesota at the end of World War II, and I loved it. The novel, set in a small town, follows a cast of interesting characters as they adjust to life after the end of the war. Simar’s dedication to research, and her ability to use that research to create realistic characters and settings, took me back in time, immersing me in a beautifully written, well-told story.

    Because I attended Simar’s book launch, I was able to buy a copy of Sister Lumberjack a month early. Simar’s publisher printed a run of seventy-five books, which were offered for sale. After asking Simar to sign my copy of Shelterbelts, I bought Sister Lumberjack and had her sign that too.

    Candace Simar, March 17, 2024

    My daughter-in-law and I helped ourselves to cookies and punch, then settled in at a table to read. I handed my copy of Shelterbelts to my daughter-in-law, and I cracked open Sister Lumberjack. We read for a bit before a couple of other Simar fans asked if they could sit with us. By this time the room was crowded with people who had come to buy a book, have it signed, and hear Simar read. We had a nice chat with the women, but soon my daughter-in-law and I drifted back to our books. I was already hooked on Sister Lumberjack, and my daughter-in-law took my copy of Shelterbelts home with her.

    In a packed room, filled with attentive fans, Simar read two passages from her book, one featuring Widow Solveig and the other featuring Sister Magdalena. When she finished, the audience saluted her with a well-deserved, hearty round of applause.

    I’m on “Chapter 10” in Sister Lumberjack. Once again, Simar has transported me back in time. I’m performing farm chores with Solveig, squirming when Nels takes a job with an undertaker, laughing at Sister Magdalena’s mishaps in the kitchen. And I’m learning lumberjack lingo. Best of all, Simar’s novel Sister Lumberjack is every bit as good as Shelterbelts.

    Candace Simar, signing books before her reading

    What I’m Reading This Week: The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl by Timothy Egan

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    What is this nonfiction book about?

    The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan is about the Dust Bowl of the 1930s. It tells the story of an ecological disaster of epic proportions caused by greed triumphing over reasonable behavior.

    Before white people arrived on the American High Plains (the setting of Egan’s book) the tall grasses and buffalo had thrived for centuries upon centuries in a symbiotic-type relationship that allowed them to survive bitter cold, searing heat, and cycles of rain and drought. Then white people drove Native Americans off the plains and killed buffalo by the millions to ensure Native Americans wouldn’t have a food source.

    Next came ranchers who raised cattle on the grasslands where the buffalo once roamed. But cattle, unlike buffalo, struggled to survive the extreme heat, cold, and drought. And when the prices of beef dropped or weather killed their cattle, many ranchers went bankrupt.

    Then came farmers who believed they could grow wheat on the High Plains. At first there was enough rain and the price of wheat was high, so farmers borrowed more money and tore up more grassland, chasing higher and higher profits. But like a pyramid scheme, their dreams of wealth tumbled when wheat prices dropped precipitously and drought wrapped its hands around the neck of the High Plains and refused to let go. Wheat died in the fields, and farmers couldn’t pay their bank loans.

    Ranchers and agricultural specialists warned against the unchecked removal of the grasslands because they understood the temperamental moods of the High Plains. The prairie is a place of wind, and so the winds, drought, and bare fields whirled like a dog chasing its tail, wearing itself out, completely spent. In a couple of decades, American farmers destroyed an ecosystem that had thrived for thousands of years.

    Most of Egan’s book describes the horrific dust storms that raged over the plains, lifting millions of tons of topsoil and depositing it hundreds of miles away. He interviewed people who lived through the fierce, stinging storms. He retells their harrowing stories of survival, despite displaced dirt that filled their nostrils, mouths, and eyes, buried their possessions, killed their loved ones, and destroyed their livelihoods and communities.

    Why is this book important?

    People have changed the earth’s temperature, and they can’t just say, “It’s cyclical. It’s a phase.” Human behavior is accelerating the warming of the earth. During the Dust Bowl, many people blamed the ecological collapse of the High Plains on the drought. They refused to believe their stripping of the grasslands was the real issue. But other people knew better because droughts had come and gone many times and the grasses held the soil in place, just how nature designed it to work.

    Yesterday the air quality where I live registered 182 on the AQ Index. That’s in the red zone, labeled unhealthy. And a thirty-acre wildfire started burning in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in northern Minnesota. It’s the first wildfire in the beginning of what appears to be a season of drought in Minnesota. We had lots of snow this winter, but the spring rains haven’t come. And there will be more fires. But the smoke that tanked our air quality yesterday came from one of the Canadian fires.

    A smoky haze filled the sky, and the acrid smell stung my nostrils. I kept the windows and doors closed, but I could still smell the smoke in my house. I canceled plans to take my grandkids to a big outdoor park in a neighboring town. Physical activity is not advised when the AQ Index is in the red zone. We went to the library instead, but I could smell smoke inside the library too.

    I thought about families who lived during the Dust Bowl. The babies and children and the young and old who died of dust pneumonia. How people and animals caught in a dust blizzard sometimes suffocated on dirt. How everyday women and men tried to defeat mounds of dust, shoveling it out of their homes, barns, driveways, and roads. How they covered every crack in their houses with tape or paper and hung damp sheets and blankets over windows and doorways to stop the dust. But each night while they slept, dust seeped into the house and cloaked them in grime.

    Yesterday when I looked at the skies hemmed in with brown smoke, I felt claustrophobic, and my sinuses hurt. I wondered how people coped day after day, month after month, year after year with tons and tons of dirt. Of course, not all of them did. Some left, some died, and some lost their minds. I don’t think I could have handled the Dust Bowl.

    Today the AQ Index dropped out of the red zone, through the orange and yellow zones, and by the afternoon entered the good green zone. But what will happen as the earth continues to heat up? There will be more wildfires. Will the air be filled with brown smoke every day?

    If anyone has any doubt about how quickly greedy, ignorant humans can destroy a habitat, read The Worst Hard Time. It’s a well-written, well-researched book. And although it’s sad to read about the disaster of the Southern Great Plains and its tragic impact on the people who lived there, it’s an important story.

    I have about one hundred pages of the book left to read, so I don’t know how it ends yet. It’s 1935, five years into the story, and drought still strangles the High Plains. Black Sunday, the worst storm of the Dust Bowl, has just occurred. And finally, the politicians in Washington, D.C. have decided they need to act. I don’t know how people worked to solve the Dust Bowl disaster, but I’m optimistic there was a workable solution. I hope to finish Egan’s book tonight.

    I’m not so optimistic about today’s politicians in Washington, D.C., and their willingness to handle climate change.

    What I’m Reading This Week: Last Circle of Love by Lorna Landvik

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    Why am I reading this book?

    I’m reading Last Circle of Love because I met Lorna Landvik, for a second time, at an author’s book talk in April. Lorna is a kind, funny person, and I enjoy listening to her talk about life and writing. When I met her for the first time in 2019, I bought her book Your Oasis on Flame Lake, and I thoroughly enjoyed the characters and their stories. In April, I bought Last Circle of Love, believing I would like it just as much or even more. Turns out I like this book even better. It’s a heartfelt story with interesting and diverse characters who come to life and pull at my heart with their stories..

    What is this book about?

    The women who belong to the Naomi Circle at All Souls Lutheran have just attended a luncheon at the Prince of Peace. Everything about the Prince of Peace is larger, shinier, newer, more opulent, and richer. But what really bothers the women from All Souls is the glitzy, full-color, professional-looking recipe book the women at Prince of Peace will be selling. The Naomi Circle of women are discouraged because they need a good fundraising idea to help keep All Souls’ doors open.

    Someone jokes that the Naomi members should write a book called the ABCs of Erotica. The idea for their book isn’t meant to be pornographic, but rather romantic. The women and men who write pages for the book write about loving gestures, kindness, understanding, and sharing that have brought them closer to their loved ones. Of course, the Naomi Circle of women worry that some church members may think the book will be pornographic, but Pastor Pete, relatively new to the church and more open-minded than the last pastor, gives support to the women to explore the idea.

    Will the ABCs of Erotica be the fund-raising savior All Souls needs? Or will the idea divide the church members, causing some to join Prince of Peace Church? Will Pastor Pete be hailed as forward thinking or sent packing?

    Why is this book important?

    It’s a cozy story with important themes. Many of the main characters are in their sixties, seventies, and eighties, and Landvik portrays them as real people with hopes, dreams, desires, and goals — people who want to embrace life, just like they did when they were young. In Landvik’s story, old people are complicated and vibrant, still trying to figure out life and what’s next for them. They are interesting.

    While Last Circle of Love is set in a small fictitious town in Minnesota, the story is filled with a diversity of people and themes about diversity, such as sexual orientation, ageism, and sexism. Landvik’s gentle tale counters intolerance, anger, and ignorance with themes of love, acceptance, open-mindedness, and forgiveness. She delivers an important message with a spoonful of sugar. But more importantly with her novel, she accomplishes what a good story should. Even though we are entertained by mostly upbeat characters and a light-hearted plot, the story makes us think about important issues.

    What I’m Reading This Week: Robert’s Rules by J. F. Riordan (Book Three)

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    Robert’s Rules is J. F. Riordan’s third book in her award-winning North of the Tension Line series. In 2022, I read North of the Tension Line and The Audacity of Goats, the first two books in the series. [Click on blue titles to read my reviews.] The fourth book in the series, A Small Earnest Question, waits for me on my bookshelf. And Throwing Bears for George, the fifth book, is due to be released in April 2024.

    Like a gourmet chocolate bar, which I eat square by square over the course of a week, I have rationed Riordan’s books, reading one then waiting several months before reading another one. Even though I’m pacing myself, I hope Riordan will write a sixth book.

    I’m almost halfway through Robert’s Rules, and it’s as wonderful as the first two books. My favorite kind-hearted, charming characters (and a couple of not-so-favorite, mean-as-snapping-turtle characters) are back. Some characters from the previous books have expanded roles, and a new character, Oliver Robert, an accountant from Milwaukee, has come to Washington Island to be Fiona’s assistant. I wonder if Oliver’s going to be an asset or a liability.

    Fiona, the newly elected town chairman, faces budget shortfalls at a time when the Island’s harbor needs dredging and the fire department needs money for equipment and staffing. Fire Chief Gil, concerned about safety, threatens to resign if his budget isn’t increased. In the middle of the Island’s financial woes, Fiona and her boyfriend, Pete, have a falling out.

    Ben is bullied at school, but won’t tell anyone. Ben’s father, Pali believes he should move his family to the mainland so Ben can learn the ways of the world beyond Washington Island, even though they all love life on the Island. Ben’s bully, Caleb, is a deeply unhappy and angry child.

    Caleb’s mother, Emily, the know-it-all, busy body interferes in everyone’s business. Jim, the DNR ranger, still carries a torch for Fiona. The diabolical Stella has gotten over her embarrassment after losing the election to Fiona and has begun a Twitter campaign of innuendo to sabotage Fiona. Roger still enjoys yoga and his coffeehouse Ground Zero, but he needs to find a way to discourage all the yoga tourists who come to practice at his coffeehouse.

    And mysteriously woven throughout the stories of Riordan’s characters, is the chilling voice of a new person whose identity hasn’t been revealed yet. However, we learn in the prologue that the character is fascinated by fire.

    So far Robert’s Rules has all the interesting characters, masterful storytelling, and beautiful prose found in Riordan’s first two books of the series.

    [I’m forever grateful to Honest Dog Books of Bayfield, Wisconsin, for hosting J. F. Riordan on a Zoom presentation during COVID. And I’m forever thankful that in my need to be connected to writers during COVID, I tuned into Zoom talks to hear many fine authors talk about their amazing books, many of which I bought, read, and enjoyed!]

    What I’m Reading This Week: Ford Tramps by Seegar Swanson

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    Swanson (l) and Nystrom (r). At age 94, after writing Ford Tramps, Swanson made a motor car trip to Alaska and toured the 49th state.

    In 1924, Seegar Swanson and Elliott Nystrom, both twenty years old and friends since elementary school, decided to take a year off and tour the perimeter of the United States, making sure to visit the four corners of the country: Maine, Florida, California, and Washington. They saved money for their trip and bought a 1919 Model T Ford touring car for $125. They left Ashland, Wisconsin, in the late summer of 1924, and returned to their hometown in 1925. The trip took about a year because they worked at different jobs along the way. Also, Swanson points out, more than once, that the top speed of their Model T was 25 mph, if the roads were good.

    Along the way Swanson and Nystrom kept a log of their experiences and expenses and took many photographs. Additionally, they wrote long letters home. After Swanson and Nystrom finished their journey, Swanson attended Northland College in Ashland. In 1936, he became the editor of the Superior Evening Telegram and later on he worked at the Duluth News-Tribune. After a long career in journalism, he retired at seventy-two. At the age of ninety, when he started writing Ford Tramps, he had his detailed resources and years of writing experience. He spent three years writing his book, and his hard work and dedication paid off because Ford Tramps is a well-told story that captures the mood of the country and its people in the mid-1920s and gives readers a glimpse into the daily lives of ordinary Americans and the places they lived.

    Published in 1999, Ford Tramps is out of print, so if you want to buy a copy from Amazon, it will be used and it will cost between $56.26 and $154.63. Thriftbooks has one copy listed for $59.99. I paid under $20 per book when I bought two copies in 2000. I gave one to my father, and I kept the other.

    My father read Ford Tramps right away and loved it. I cracked open my copy in March 2023. It’s amazing how fast twenty-three years can drive by. And if I hadn’t read a blog about autocamping in the 1920s written by Chris Marcotte, my copy of Ford Tramps would still be parked on my bookshelf.

    I wish I’d read Ford Tramp years ago, when my father was still alive so we could’ve talked about the book and why we liked it. Even though we never had that conversation, I’m going to tell you why I think he enjoyed the book so much.

    He liked it because Swanson’s descriptions of the 1919 Model T bring the car to life. The Model T that Swanson and Nystrom drove had three pedals on the floor and a lever by the door side of the driver’s seat that controlled the transmission, and it had a lever on the steering wheel that controlled the throttle. A complex coordination between feet and hands was needed to shift gears. Machines fascinated my father. He loved being a part of them, manipulating them, controlling them, understanding them, and pushing them to their limits. He drove cars and motorcycles, and he flew planes. Just as Swanson and Nystrom had to learn the personality of their Model T and what it could and couldn’t be asked to do, my father took pride in mastering his cars, motorcycles, and planes.

    He liked the book because the Model T broke down on the road, and its tires often went flat. Swanson and Nystrom played nursemaid to the Model T, learning what they could fix themselves or rig up until they could afford a mechanic. My father, a savvy mechanic, would’ve reveled in the Model T’s challenges. Sure, when the car broke down, he would’ve sputtered and cursed. Then he would’ve put the Model T in its place and back on the road. He owned his own garage where I once heard a customer with an old sports car ask him, “What if you can’t get a part?” My father answered, “I’ll rig something up, and it’ll work.” That 1919 Model T would’ve been putty in my father’s hands.

    He liked the book because he was in his 60s when he read it, but he could be young again, on a vicarious adventure from the comfort of his couch where his standard poodle and his greyhound curled up near him. In 1955, he was eighteen when he moved from a small unincorporated town in northern Wisconsin to the big city of Milwaukee, hoping to make his way in the world. My father never took a road trip like Swanson and Nystrom, but in a small way, he liked to travel and experience new places and meet new people. Swanson and Nystrom met many interesting and kind people while working odd jobs and autocamping. Swanson’s writing breathes life into these men and women, allowing readers to work beside them in an orchard picking crops or sit with them around a cookstove as they share stories and food with other autocampers.

    My father liked the book because Swanson included many photographs, maps, log entries, expense accounts, and receipts. It was fun to see what food, lodging, camp fees, car repairs, and other necessities cost in the mid-1920s. Swanson and Nystrom also reported how much they were paid doing manual labor. My father, an avid photographer, took photos when he traveled. After he had his film developed, he would show you ten pictures of the same vista, then ten pictures of the same museum display, then ten pictures of the same man who took him out fishing on a charter boat. My father considered maps to be among the most useful items in his life. He used them when driving to someplace unfamiliar, and he used them to plan his flights from one airport to the next. As a pilot he kept a log of all his flights, and as a businessman he kept expense accounts and receipts.

    My father liked the book because the Ford Tramps spent time in his beloved state of Arizona. He moved to Arizona when he was forty, and he thought his adopted state was amazing. Swanson and Nystrom marveled at the Petrified Forest, amazed that trees had turned to stone. The pair debated between seeing a bullfight in Mexico or seeing the Grand Canyon, with both of them favoring the bullfight. The Grand Canyon won out because in Mexico, bullfights were only held as part of major holiday celebrations, and it was too long a wait for the next holiday. Some things are meant to be. Swanson and Nystrom fell in love with the Grand Canyon, agreeing it was, as Nystrom remarked, “The greatest thing we’ve seen so far.” They stayed for five days. They hiked to the bottom of the canyon and swam in the Colorado River. They hiked along the rim in both directions, and they attended a Native American ceremony. One afternoon they took shelter in their Model T during one of the desert’s quick moving and furious storms accompanied by lightning that seemed to touch the ground and thunder that redoubled its intensity as it echoed off the canyon walls. My father never tired of watching desert storms roll through Tucson.

    I’m at the point in the book, when Swanson and Nystrom have just crossed into California. Even in 1925, in an effort to contain harmful pests, California border patrol officials stopped cars to make sure people weren’t carrying fruit into the state. The Model T was searched from top to bottom because Swanson and Nystrom admitted to having a handful of oranges that they’d been given in Florida. Embarrassed, but having nothing else to hide, they were allowed to enter California. I have eighty-eight pages left to read, and Swanson and Nystrom are about to visit Yosemite Park. I’m sorry my journey with them will soon come to an end.

    Someone suggested I sell my copy of Ford Tramps, pointing out my investment in the book had at least tripled. I’m not selling my copy, but if I did I could list it as “like new” because it’s only been read almost once, and I haven’t spilled any coffee on it. I wish I had my father’s copy of the book, but I wouldn’t sell his copy either. However, I would’ve been willing to share one of the copies with someone else. My father would’ve liked that, too.

    I discovered a nice surprise under the jacket cover.

    What I’m Reading This Week

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    Nonfiction: Gravedigger’s Daughter: Growing Up Rural by Debra Raye King [click title to read book review by Kathleen Waldvogel] To order King’s book: click here. Fiction: Double Exposure by Jeannée Sacken [click on title to visit author’s website] To order Sacken’s book: click here. Short Story Collection: Tomorrow in Shanghai by May-Lee Chai [click on title to visit author’s website]

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    In her memoir Gravedigger’s Daughter, Debra Raye King writes about growing up in a rural farming community near Menomonie, Wisconsin. Her father, John Edward Torgerson, was both a farmer and the local gravedigger–jobs he inherited from his father. In a series of essays, King reminisces about her childhood, which was both normal and unusual. In the 1950s, small rural farms were more plentiful than today, and King’s essays will resonate with readers who grew up on farms or in rural communities. But a small community usually had only one gravedigger, and that part of King’s childhood was unusual.

    In the book’s first essay, “Shoveling Eleven Tons by Hand,” King describes her father’s gravedigging duties and how she and her sister eventually assisted him. She skillfully weaves facts, reflections, and anecdotes together, and after reading her first essay, I was amazed by her father and how he approached his duties of gravedigging with dedication and kindness. The essay also teaches readers about a part of death that most of us never think about–the actual process of how the dead are buried in a cemetery. The themes of community, family, and hard work revealed in King’s first essay continue throughout her book.

    I’m enjoying King’s book because her essays are heartfelt, because I am learning about a way of life that has mostly disappeared, and because King’s writing is a joy to read.

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    The novel Double Exposure by Jeannée Sacken is a sequel to her novel Behind the Lens. I’m reading Double Exposure because I enjoyed Behind the Lens, which is a well-written, fast-paced story with engaging, memorable characters, and captivating story arcs. I also appreciate the dedicated research Sacken did for Behind the Lens because I learned something about Afghanistan and its struggles. To read my review of Behind the Lens on Good Reads click here. [There are no spoiler alerts.]

    Annie Hawkins, a war photojournalist, is the main character in both novels. Double Exposure opens with Hawkins in Qatar waiting for a flight back to the United States. She longs to see her boyfriend U.S. Navy SEAL Finn Cerelli and her daughter Mel. However, her boss, Chris Cardona, demands to see her first when she arrives in Washington, D.C., then he informs her that she and their news organization are being sued by a rival news organization. Her ex-husband calls, concerned about their daughter Mel. Soon Annie will need to return to Afghanistan to cover the peace talks between the Afghani government and the Taliban, but she also hopes to find a young woman named Seema who disappeared in Afghanistan. And Annie has secrets she needs to keep from Cerelli. Author Sacken weaves all the action together with snappy dialogue, intriguing twists and turns, and superb storytelling. I started reading Double Exposure last night, and kept promising myself–just one more chapter and then I’ll go to sleep.

    Both of Sacken’s book are available on audio: Behind the Lens and Double Exposure.

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    Tomorrow in Shanghai and Other Stories by May-Lee Chai was recommended by my daughter-in-law. Because we often love the same books, and because I write short stories, I asked to borrow the book.

    The first story in Chai’s collection is “Tomorrow in Shanghai.” I liked this story so much I read it twice. The main character in the story is a young doctor, who entered the medical profession with great expectations for his future. But like Pip in Dickens’s Great Expectations, the young doctor discovers youthful dreams and adult realities are often at odds.

    What I’m Reading This Week

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    Nonfiction: Not the Camilla We Knew by Rachael Hanel & Fiction: Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

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    I’m reading Rachael Hanel’s Not the Camilla We Knew: One Woman’s Path from Small-Town America to the Symbionese Liberation Army for a couple of reasons. First, I very much like Hanel’s writing. I read her memoir We’ll Be the Last Ones to Let You Down: Memoir of a Gravedigger’s Daughter, and I enjoyed her voice, writing style, and her story-telling skills.

    Second, the title, Not the Camilla We Knew, captured my attention. Camilla grew up in Minnesota, and as a young woman she joined the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA), an organization of domestic terrorists. Hanel’s book title promised to give me the rest of Camilla’s story. Camilla died in a shootout in Los Angeles in 1974. The SLA and the events before and after that shootout were widely reported in the news. People involved in tragic events are often vilified or exalted, but reality is often murkier.

    Hanel doesn’t excuse Camilla’s behavior, but rather tries to understand why someone who grew up middle class with so many options available to them decided to join a domestic terrorist group. While Hanel’s book focuses on Camilla, I’m also learning more about the SLA. Hanel spent twenty years researching and writing this book. I’ve read almost half of the book, and I have to say that Hanel’s dedication pays off. The book is well-written and it’s a page-turner.

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    I’m reading Shelby Van Pelt’s Remarkably Bright Creatures because I read a review about it on Angry Angel Books, a blog by Amanda Nissen. She raved about the book so enthusiastically that I had to check out a copy from the library. Nissen likes books “about women, especially older women,” and so do I. Older characters who are fully developed resonate with me, perhaps because I’m an older character. But also because older people are complete people, with all the thoughts, hopes, desires, and feelings of younger people. Often society wants to see older people as one-dimensional, as a stereotype. I’m about one-fourth into the book, and Van Pelt’s seventy-year-old character Tova, a widow, is a well-rounded, and I like her a lot.

    But I was convinced that I absolutely had to read this book when Nissen described Marcellus, a remarkably bright octopus, who lives in the aquarium where Tova works. I find octopuses fascinating. Marcellus and Tova become friends. Readers meet Marcellus in short chapters, which are told from his point of view and interspersed among chapters told from the human point of view. His cantankerous voice is engaging and sarcastically witty as he describes his life in an aquarium, nudging readers to reflect upon how they interreact with nonhuman creatures.

    Nissen’s review crackled with 1,000-watt-electric enthusiasm. Leaving no room for doubt, she discusses this book like one talks about a new love who is so perfect that there is nothing negative to be said. When someone touts a book or a movie in such glowing terms, there is always a chance that reality won’t match the hype. Nissen states that the book is “as bright and full of life as its cover.” And so far, I agree, wholeheartedly.

    Something I’m Reading This Week

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    The Radium Girls (2016) by Kate Moore

    I ordered my copy from Honest Dog Books in Bayfield, Wisconsin.

    I’m on page 200 of 403. This well-researched nonfiction book tells the story of the young women who started working in radium-dial factories just before WWI. Glow-in-the-dark products were gaining popularity, and WWI would significantly increase the demand for them. The dial painters were taught to point the bristles of their brushes with their tongues–called lip pointing–in order to paint fine lines. Supervisors told the painters there was so little radium in the paint that it was harmless.

    As factory owners and managers learned that traces of radium weren’t harmless, they hid that information from the dial painters because lip pointing was an efficient, inexpensive method for painting dials, and because they didn’t want workers to become fearful and quit. About five years after the dial painters began ingesting radium, they started suffering painful side effects which were fatal. After the consequences of radium paint became known and proved, companies who employed dial painters kept denying that the radium was dangerous.

    One of the women harmed by the radium, found a lawyer who agreed to represent her and some of the other sick women. The companies used high-powered attorneys, lies, and rumors to try and thwart the sick women from winning their lawsuits. Moore skillfully captures the twists and turns of the legal battle between the radium-dial companies and the women who sought compensation. I don’t know how their legal battle ends yet, but I’m rooting for the women.

    As I read Moore’s book, I care about the young women, who never grew old. I care about the families they left behind. I want the companies and their executives to be held accountable for their cold indifference to the lives of these women. As I read this story, it strikes me that not much has changed. The story of the women harmed by the profit-minded radium dial companies is the kind of story that still happens today, both in our country and throughout the world.

    Stories like The Radium Girls are important because companies still lobby for fewer regulations and for changes to laws that make it more difficult for a harmed person to sue. Without regulatory laws or the ability to sue bad actors in a court of law, people are left to the mercy of those who value their company’s bottom line above all else. The Radium Girls reminds us that we need laws to hold companies liable for their actions.

    Every evening I look forward to ignoring the TV and reading The Radium Girls. Moore’s writing is excellent. I’m thankful she told the story of the doomed women who started out loving their jobs and believed their companies were wonderful places to work. We can honor the radium girls by remembering them and by valuing the lives of all workers.

    [If you’re interested in hearing Kate Moore talk about The Radium Girls and her newest book, The Woman They Could Not Silence (2021) Click here: Honest Dog Books.]