Book Review: The Family Chao, a Novel, by Lan Samantha Chang

Posted on July 6, 2024 by youngv2015

Published in 2022 by W. W. Norton & Company

Why did I read this book?

I’m a member of the Wisconsin Writers Association (WWA), and I will be attending their 2024 Writers Conference this fall. Because Lan Samantha Chang is one of the keynote speakers, WWA recently hosted a book talk about The Family Chao with Chang. So, I wanted to read the book before attending the book talk, just to avoid any spoilers.

What is this book about?

Leo Chao and his wife, Winnie, have run a successful Americanized Chinese restaurant for thirty-five years in Haven, Wisconsin, where they settled as young immigrants in a mostly white community. Their goals were to serve high-quality food and to make sure their three sons became well educated and successful. Winnie has recently left her mean-spirited, philandering husband and the family business and moved into a religious sanctuary. For years Leo Chao has been a bad husband to his wife and a bad father to his three sons, who have come to loathe and fear him, yet still seek his approval.

Dagou, their oldest, left college to help his father run the family restaurant when his mother became ill. After his mother recovered, Dagou, an excellent chef, remained based on a promise from his father that the restaurant would one day be his. Dagou is engaged to one woman but in love with another one, and he needs money to impress the new woman. When Dagou asks his father to honor his promise regarding the restaurant, his father denies the promise exists and threatens to fire Dagou.

Ming, the middle child, is a successful businessman who lives in New York City, but as a first-generation Chinese-American, he struggles with his identity. Bullied when he attended the mostly white Haven public schools and continually embarrassed by his parents, especially his father, Ming avoids his Chinese heritage and rarely returns home to Haven.

Nineteen years old, James, the youngest son, plans to become a doctor. On his way home for the Christmas holidays, he tries to save a man who suffers a medical episode in the train station. The man dies, leaving James shaken and in possession of the man’s bag, which is destined to play a part in the Chao family drama. The three brothers don’t always get along, but they rally in support of their mother and each other when the need arises.

The Chao family appears to have put aside their differences in order to unite for the yearly Christmas dinner. The next day, Leo Chang is found dead. After an investigation, one of the brothers is arrested, but the other two brothers aren’t sure their sibling killed their father, and they keep searching for the truth. As they search, they uncover other truths that have been hidden.

What makes this book so good and important?

Chang’s beautiful writing, strong plot, and richly-drawn characters pulled me into the story. Her novel reads like a Greek tragedy — with the characters’ current sorrows rooted in past transgressions committed by themselves or others. As the story unfurls, readers watch characters struggle to escape their destinies, which are perhaps not of their own choosing or their own making. On one level, Chang’s novel explores dysfunctional families and guilt and regret. But on a deeper level, she delves into how community prejudice adds to the troubles of the Chao family and to the other Asian American families in Haven, Wisconsin.

In a world of thirty-second sound bites about immigration and stereotypes, Chang’s novel provides a deep, long look at the consequences of prejudices and misunderstandings between cultures. It’s the best kind of novel — one written to make readers think and to expand their understanding of the world, all while serving up a superbly written story.

I showed up early to appointments just so I could sit and read Chang’s book without being distracted by interruptions at home.

Book Review: The Curse of Pietro Houdini, a Novel, by Derek B. Miller

Posted on June 14, 2024 by youngv2015

Why did I read this book?

The cover’s obscured artwork hints at ancient mythology, which is filled with tales of love, courage, tragedy, jealousy, joy, betrayal, and vengeance. Stories that are repeated by mortals again and again. Stories that repeat themselves in Italy in 1943-44 during WWII.

I bought this book on Indie Bookstore Day at the last bookstore I visited. I’d already purchased books from the other stores, but it was Indie Bookstore Day, so that meant I needed to buy at least two books from each store. (It’s an etiquette thing, like not refusing a second slice of pie when you visit your dear grandmother after she so nicely baked a strawberry-rhubarb pie for you.)

First, the book jacket caught my eye. The cover art is stunning. Next, the name Houdini stood out. When I was a child, I loved the Tony Curtis movie Houdini, loosely based on real-life magician and escape artist Harry Houdini. Then, the synopsis on the flap intrigued me: WWII, Nazis, Italy, an ancient abbey high on a hill. A young teenage orphan; a charismatic but secretive middle-aged man on a mission to save three priceless paintings; a pair of young lovers; a mysterious Italian nurse; a kind-hearted German soldier; an unusual monk; a war-broken woman; and Ferrari, a faithful mule. Finally, I read the first paragraph of the book. And this sentence sealed the deal: “I stole three paintings from the Nazis who were stealing them from the monks.” This one sentence contained intrigue, danger, irony, — and humor, a quiet, but incisive humor that works well in a story filled with sadness, destruction, and loss. I bought the book.

What is this book about?

It’s late summer, August 1943. The Allies are pushing into Italy to liberate it from the Germans. Massimo, a young teenager, has been orphaned during a recent American bombing of Rome and is heading toward Naples. Pietro Houdini, who is in his fifties, finds Massimo in a ditch. He convinces Massimo to accompany him to Montecassino Abbey, where he intends to catalogue and restore art. Massimo is smart, and as an only child, used to conversing with adults. Pietro is in his fifties and well educated. He is a cynical man who is capable of duplicity and murder to achieve his goals, yet hope, kindness, and loyalty linger inside him.

Pietro knows the Germans will come for the artwork at Montecassino. With the help of Massimo, he plans to steal three priceless paintings and a bag of ancient Greek gold. Soon it becomes evident to Pietro that the Americans will bomb Montecassino because they believe the Germans are using the abbey as part of their war strategy to thwart an Allied invasion of Italy. Time is running out to save the paintings, so Pietro revises his plans to include other people who have been living at the abbey and to use a different route of escape.

What makes this book good?

I’d never heard of Derek B. Miller, and my reasons for buying his book were impulsive (and perhaps frivolous) but I soon discovered Miller’s book has it all — richly drawn characters, a captivating plot, beautiful language, dry humor, and important themes.

The center of the story is the relationship between Pietro and Massimo. Massimo, recently orphaned, is walking to Naples, when a group of boys attack. Pietro, who is walking to Montecassino Abbey, interrupts the beating, pulls Massimo from the ditch, and convinces Massimo to go with him to Montecassino. It’s Pietro and Massimo’s growing friendship and singleness of purpose which draws readers into the story. Miller’s secondary characters, even the ones who appear briefly, will also live in readers’ imaginations, stirring emotions and raising questions about the horrors of war, which can never be answered. During a war, one thinks more about the randomness of life, the unlikely friendships people form, and the bonds that transcend both terror and time. Miller weaves the stories of his characters together, into an intricate tapestry, surprising his readers as the threads become a richly textured image.

Miller’s language and imagery create a reflective solemnity, revealing Montecassino’s mystical character. The abbey is more than ancient stone. It lives and breathes. It tells its stories to those who listen. When characters leave the abbey and enter the world of fascism and Nazis, Miller’s words paint scenes of dread and tragedy. But his descriptions of war and its brutality are sparsely, succinctly, and briefly told; so, it’s the stories of the civilians swept up in war that command center stage.

Miller uses humor throughout his novel, but The Curse of Pietro Houdini is not a comedy, and Miller’s humor is not slapstick or wordplay. It’s steeped in irony. Early in the novel, a line spoken by Pietro to Brother Tobias, regarding the treasure trove of art in the abbey, took my breath away. I read the sentence several times before moving on. I thought about quoting the sentence here, but I would rather other readers have the joy of discovering it. (If you read the book, the sentence is on page 44, almost halfway down the page. Don’t peek before you get there.)

Miller’s WWII novel explores the themes of war through the eyes of ordinary civilians whose lives have been forever altered or destroyed. While the Allied and Axis powers wage war on the battlefield, the characters face their own horrors away from the frontlines. There is much destruction in a war: felled buildings, mindless cruelty, the dead and the broken. Miller’s book tells these tales of war, but it also tells the stories of love, kindness, loyalty, bravery, and survival because these are also the stories of war.

A connection to the present . . .

After reading Miller’s book, I took a road trip. I drove east across Upper Michigan, and over a couple of hours, I met three different convoys of military vehicles heading west. The long lines of gigantic trucks in the military colors of desert tan, army green, and dark blue rumbled like beasts over the scenic tree-lined highway. I’ve passed convoys before, never feeling uneasy, never thinking of them as beasts. But I’d just finished reading Miller’s book, and because it’s set in WWII with fascists and Hitler and Mussolini, a chill cut through me each time another line of military vehicles passed by. I tried to imagine what the Italians felt during WWII as German, American, and Allied war machinery lumbered over their roads and into their cities. I thought about Hitler’s tanks and artillery guns and goose-stepping soldiers marching down streets, a show of military power meant to strike fear in his European neighbors and his own people.

Miller’s book is set in 1943-1944, but sadly dictators, invading armies, and war are timeless.

[Published by Avid Reader Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc., 2024]

Between the Covers, a Bookstore in Harbor Springs, Michigan

Posted on June 12, 2024 by youngv2015

Between the Covers, Harbor Springs, Michigan

Between the Covers is a charming bookstore in Harbor Springs, Michigan. A quaint summer resort town, it harkens back to the days when wealthy and moderately wealthy men put their families on trains and sent them to Petoskey, Harbor Springs, Charlevoix, and surrounding towns in order to escape the scorching heat and noxious smells found in urban areas such as Detroit and Chicago, keeping them safe from the dank, rancid city air. The men joined their families during vacations or for long weekends.

The trains that shuttled families back and forth have disappeared. And the numerous resorts which once existed have dwindled, replaced by individual homes and cabins. But families still flock to the towns in the northern part of Lower Michigan, which nestle along Lake Michigan, Lake Walloon, Lake Charlevoix, and many other sparkling lakes and rivers. My mother lives in Petoskey, and I love to visit her. When I do, I trek through my favorite towns, always visiting my favorite bookstores, one of which is Between the Covers.

There’s a lot to like about Between the Covers. It’s clever name. The elegant off-white brick building. The large storefront windows. The knowledgeable and friendly staff.

Inside the store exposed rosy-brown brick walls give the interior a warm glow. Colorful books, like tasty pieces of bright candy, wait to be purchased and savored. There are beautiful selections of cards and stationery. A large selection of lovely journals invites writers to take one home and fill its pages with musings. As a writer, journals, like books, call to me, and just as I have books I will probably never read, I have journals I will probably never use. On my recent visit to Between the Covers, I bought three journals (but one is for a friend), a box of owl-themed stationery, and two books.

I bought a mystery for my mother and James by Percival Everett for me. I finished reading James yesterday. I loved the book. Before I read it, I listened to Huckleberry Finn. I’d already read it five times, the first when I was in middle school, the last time when I was in my forties. I wondered if my opinion of Mark Twain’s novel would be diminished by the years gone by, but it was not. I was struck once again by the biting satire Twain dishes up, mocking the ignorance and arrogance of whites and their participation in slavery and the institutionalized racism which perpetuated slavery and which continues to perpetuate discrimination.

I like to buy books from wonderful independent bookstores when I’m on vacation. The books become tangible memories of place, people, and good times, especially when I love the stories that live between their covers.

Short Story Club Idea for Writers or Nonwriters Who Love Literature

Posted on June 10, 2024 by youngv2015

Delicious coffee cake paired with a cherry blossom latte from our favorite coffee shop. Note the wonderful cherry in the cup.

During COVID, I joined a book club at the library. We met in the evening once a month on Zoom instead of the library. It was the first and only book club I’ve ever belonged to, and it was perfect for the times. Because lockdowns meant I couldn’t work, I had extra time on my hands. I tried to write, but I was too anxious to produce much of anything. But I could read, so I looked forward to each Zoom gathering and the chance to meet with fellow readers who also loved to discuss books. At the end of each discussion, it was nice to “leave the meeting” and not have to get in my car and drive home. Best of all, I felt that reading and discussing books would help me grow as a writer, even if I couldn’t write. Later, I would hear other writers talk about their struggles to write during COVID. But when the lockdowns ended and the book club returned to meeting at the library, I dropped out.

I missed talking about books with fellow readers, but I also wanted something that was more focused, tailored to me as a short story writer. Then, I read an article by an essayist who said she and a couple of her fellow essayists liked to read the same essays written by well-known writers and discuss them. They looked at tense, point of view, structure, pacing, use of literary devices, and anything else they wanted to discuss. I attended writing webinars where instructors used mentor texts to model whatever writing technique they were teaching. I came up with an idea: Why not a short story club? One that would focus on the writer’s use of all the literary techniques in a writer’s toolbox.

So, I talked to a friend of mine who used to teach AP English. Because I knew he loved to discuss literature and because he was a busy guy, I figured he’d love the idea of a short story club. He did.

We take turns choosing a short story and meet up every five to six weeks at a local coffeehouse. We discuss anything and everything about the writer’s techniques. I learn a lot and my hope is that I will become a better short story writer. (Maybe I should call this my Coffeehouse MFA.) I know that much of what we discuss will end up in my writer’s toolbox, perhaps to be incorporated in some manner in one of my future stories. My friend hopes to write when he retires, so he is adding to his toolbox too.

If you want to form your own short story club, here are some ideas to get you started:

Take turns picking the short story. Be adventurous. Cover different time periods and genres and cultures. If someone ends up not liking a story, at least it’s not a whole book.
Read the story at least twice. I read a story a few weeks before we meet up, then again a day or two before our meeting.
Make a paper copy of the story so you can annotate, highlight, and underline. (My colored erasable ink pens get a workout!)
Meet up at a local coffeehouse, so no one has to worry about hosting (or cleaning his or her house or baking the treats).
Make time to visit before and after you discuss the short story. It’s fun to catch up with friends.
Depending on the size of your group, allow an hour to an hour and a half.
My short story club consists of two people, but you can go bigger.

Short stories we’ve read so far:

“Sonny’s Blues” by James Baldwin, “Virgin Violeta” by Katherine Anne Porter, “The Third Thing That Killed My Father Off” by Raymond Carver, “The Wilderness” by Ray Bradbury, “Tomorrow in Shanghai” by May-Lee Chai, “A Trifle from Life” by Anton Chekhov, and “Warpath” by Jeffrey Masuda.

***

My two favorite books from my book club days:

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson. Shortened synopsis from Amazon: As the book opens in 2001, it is the evening of sixteen-year-old Melody’s coming of age ceremony in her grandparents’ Brooklyn brownstone. . . . But the event is not without poignancy. Sixteen years earlier, that very dress [now worn by Melody] was measured and sewn for a different wearer: Melody’s mother, for her own ceremony — a celebration that ultimately never took place. Unfurling the history of Melody’s family – reaching back to the Tulsa race massacre in 1921 — to show how they all arrived at this moment, Woodson considers not just their ambitions and successes but also the costs, the tolls they’ve paid for striving to overcome expectations and escape the pull of history.

For an informative podcast (and to wonder, Why isn’t this taught in school?) listen to Blindspot’s Tulsa Burning. Listen to the podcast first. If you understand the horror of what happened in Tulsa, you will have a greater appreciation for Woodson’s powerful novel.

It Takes One to Know One by Isla Dewar. My reading of this book was a happy, very happy accident. The book I was supposed to read was It Takes One to Know One by Susan Isaacs, which is a crime thriller. I didn’t make note of the author’s name, so when I ordered the book, I bought the wrong one — a wonderful mistake.

I loved Dewar’s take on the title. Her book is downright funny, even though the humor sometimes comes from a place of sadness and longing. The book is not a crime novel, but there are some small mysteries that need unraveling. Dewar is a Scottish novelist, and authors from the British Isles do the type of humor I like so well. Perhaps living on small islands in very changeable weather, and being surrounded by eerie and unearthly beautiful landscapes, and being subjected to numerous invasions and attempted invasions since the Roman Empire, makes one cultivate a sly, irreverent sense of humor in order to appear unflappable.

My son, who rarely reads fiction, read this book and laughed out loud. My daughter-in-law also loved it.

Listening to Oliver Twist While Driving across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and Other Thoughts about Charles Dickens

Posted on June 8, 2024 by youngv2015

I listened to this recording. Flo Gibson did an excellent job.

I recently drove to Petoskey, Michigan, to see my mother, then five days later drove back again. I always listen to books on CD when I drive to my mother’s. I visit my local library and check out more books on CD than I will need for the round-trip ride because on rare occasions, I start listening to a book and either I don’t like it or I don’t like the reader’s voice. Because I specifically wanted to listen to Oliver Twist, I played that first. I liked the reader’s voice, which was a perfect pairing for such a tale as Oliver’s story. And, I liked the Dickens novel well enough, so I kept listening.

During my twenties I read mostly British literature written before 1900 — Dickens, Daniel Defoe, George Elliot, Thomas Hardy, Jane Austen, William Makepeace Thackeray, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the Bronte sisters, among others. I like to refer to that as my “early Brit-lit phase.”

Oliver Twist has many of the elements found in the Dickens novels that I so enjoyed when I read them in my twenties. The secondary characters are interesting, quirky, and sometimes so delightfully nasty that I truly enjoy their downfall. The plot threads are complex and engaging — twisting, turning, separating then rejoining, surprising me, yet making me sigh, “But of course!” There are the Dickensian themes of poverty, cruelty, and snobbery. The heroes have to rise above their circumstances, like poverty or the sins of others, which they are blamed for and held in contempt for, even though they’ve had no part in the events that have befallen them. And, of course, there are the good-natured, kindly characters who help along the way. But in Oliver Twist, the good, especially the women, are portrayed as sainted angels upon the earth — too good to walk upon the lowly soil. But thankfully, for the long-suffering Oliver, it’s beneficial they do because they are able to discern in Oliver all that is noble and good and become his staunch allies. (I guess one sainted person can always recognize another.)

I didn’t, however, like Dickens’ portrayal of Fagin, the criminal ringleader. Fagin is Jewish, and Dickens hammers that point over and over again, continually referring to Fagin as the Jew, rarely using his name Fagin. It wasn’t necessary to describe the character as Jewish because Fagin’s religious or ethnic background has no bearing on the story. It’s a racist stereotype.

On the other hand, Dickens’ novels often exposed the wretched conditions faced by the poor. I was struck by the theme of poverty in Oliver Twist and how relevant it is today. Characters could be arrested for sleeping in doorways. Adults and children in the workhouses and poorhouses were overworked, underfed, and mistreated by the people who ran those “charitable” institutions. The poor were labeled lazy and stupid, and believed to be one step away from a life of crime. By creating one narrative — that all poor people were undeserving — society could dismiss the poor with one wave of its hand and justify their mistreatment. With his fiction, Dickens spoke on behalf of the poor and forced Victorian society to face a harsh truth. But sadly, we haven’t come far. As I listened to Oliver Twist, it struck me that those same prejudices and stereotypes are still being repeated — this time about the poor and homeless in our current society.

I’ve read eight of Charles Dickens’ novels, and the one I rank as his best is Great Expectations, which was serialized from 1860 to 1861 in a weekly publication. The story of Pip and his rise and fall lacks the full-on sentimental mush found in Oliver Twist (although a bit of sentimentality can be found). Pip is a much more complex character, whose desires and dreams get in the way of his own happiness and cause heartache to those he loves. Pip’s growth as a person and his final realization and acceptance of his faults is a much more nuanced and mature story than Oliver Twist, which was written and serialized from 1837 to 1839. I’ve read Great Expectations twice, and I’ve listened to it three times. Each time I revisit the novel, my appreciation for the genius of Great Expectations grows. I think Dickens was truly at the height of his story-telling prowess when he penned Pip’s story. I plan to read more of Dickens’ novels, so if I change my mind, I’ll blog about it.

Others choose A Tale of Two Cities as Dickens’ best, but not me. I tried reading that novel twice in my twenties and didn’t finish it either time. A few years ago, I started listening to it on tape. I thought I might appreciate it more as an older adult. Nope. I was ready to stop less than halfway through because my aging hadn’t improved the novel. But my son called one night when I was out walking my dogs, listening to A Tale of Two Cities. Turns out he didn’t like the novel either, but he read the whole book anyway. “Well,” I told him, “if you can take it, I can take it too.” And I finished listening to it. But I didn’t grow to like it. A couple of years ago I started reading The Old Curiosity Shop, but I couldn’t finish it. Partly because the character Daniel Quilp is the most evil and vile character I’ve ever come across in a book. (Granted I don’t read horror books or stories with serial killers.) And partly because I couldn’t stand the unrelenting suffering Little Nell faces.

But Dickens is one of my favorite authors. He is a master of dialogue, irony, humor, satire, social commentary, melodrama, metaphor, and characterization. His memorable characters spring to life from the pages of his books. This, along with his delectable plots and vibrant dialogue, makes his stories perfect for dramatization as miniseries and movies.

I also like The Pickwick Papers, David Copperfield, Hard Times, and A Christmas Carol, which I read or watch every Christmas. In a month or so, I want to listen to David Copperfield, which I read about forty years ago, because I have a copy of Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver on my to-be-read pile. I loved David Copperfield when I first read it. But I wonder — after reading it again — if I will I rank it with Oliver Twist or Great Expectations or somewhere in between.

***

If you’re a writer . . . you might want to read some Dickens to appreciate his characterization and dialogue. When it comes to creating characters, especially secondary ones, Dickens’ motto could be “Go bold or go home!” Characters like Uriah Heep (a bad guy) and John Wemmick (a good guy) capture the imaginations of readers. Reading Uriah Heep’s dialogue makes my skin crawl.

Dickens’ dialogue can be satirical, duplicitous, menacing, sentimental, comical, and heartfelt. Every time I read Great Expectations, I marvel at how Dickens distinguishes between Wemmick’s office and home personas. Wemmick’s transformation by degrees as he leaves his employer’s office and walks home is mesmerizing. Wemmick’s mannerisms, opinions, and especially his way of speaking undergo a radical change. Wemmick knows he must be one man at work, but that he can be another man at home.

Something Published: “Dog Down the Stairs” appears in The Nemadji Review

Posted on May 9, 2024 by youngv2015

This year’s theme was “Welcome to the 13th Floor.” The cover art titled *Secret Tunnel of the Willow* is by Amy Bates.

My flash fiction story “Dog Down the Stairs” was selected for the 2024 Nemadji Review, which is published by the University of Wisconsin-Superior. I’m so excited to be included in the Review because I graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Superior, a small but mighty force for liberal arts and education majors. Every time I walk onto the campus of my alma mater, happy memories flood my soul, and I feel as though I’m being hugged.

Last night the dedicated editorial staff of The Nemadji Review held a reading for the writers whose works appear in this year’s journal. What a delightful evening! Beautiful prose and poems were read by writers in a cozy and inviting auditorium filled with a supportive audience, followed by conversations with fellow writers while eating scrumptious treats. I had a brownie and a cookie!

I think I’m getting better at these readings. Before last night’s event, I read an essay at another journal launch in April. After I finished my five-minute reading and took my seat, I realized that I hadn’t had an “out of body” experience while reading. Before that, somewhere in the middle of a reading, fear would always take over, and I would become disconnected from the written word. I would no longer be able to put any emotion into the words because I would need all my energy to wade through my fear in order to finish reading. However, last night I did it again — I made it through my allotted reading time without having an “out of body” experience.

Maybe the brownie I ate before I read gave me courage. Or maybe I’ve come to realize the floor isn’t going to crack open and swallow me. Flying monkeys aren’t going to whisk me off stage. And my tenth-grade speech teacher isn’t going to present me with a grade.

I also think, because I keep reading in front of people, my flight or fight mode has relaxed. It’s decided there is no reason for concern. Best to save the adrenaline for real emergencies.

[To read my story click here, then scroll to page 94 of the journal.]

I forgot to have my friend take a photo of me reading. Perhaps that was a convenient-memory slip.

Book Review: Last Summer on State Street by Toya Wolfe

Posted on May 2, 2024 by youngv2015

[William Morrow, An Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 2022.]

What is this book about?

Last Summer on State Street by Toya Wolfe is both a historical and coming-of-age novel. Set in 1999, the story follows four 12-year-old girls through a tumultuous summer of change. Set during the real-life demolition of Chicago’s Robert Taylor Homes by the Chicago Housing Authority, most of the story takes place in or around building 4950, which will soon be torn down. Twelve-year-old Felicia “Fe Fe” Stevens lives in 4950, along with her mother and teenage brother. Fe Fe and her friends, Precious and Stacia, spend their days going to school, jumping rope, and hanging out. When Fe Fe befriends Tonya, a skinny, forlorn girl with a drug addicted mother, and invites her into their circle of friends, Precious and Stacia aren’t happy.

As the summer temperatures scorch their neighborhood, trouble brews and spills into the streets. Gang wars erupt and residents endure gang shootouts and indiscriminate police violence. Fe Fe’s brother, who has managed to avoid gang life, is wrongly arrested and taken to jail. As Tonya’s beauty becomes more apparent, she can’t escape the unwanted attention of older boys. When the dynamics of Fe Fe, Precious, and Stacia’s relationships change, Fe Fe faces difficult questions about friendship and self-preservation. And as demolition day nears, Fe Fe worries about where her family will be allowed to live.

What makes this book so good?

From the first page, Wolfe’s style of prose, story-telling skills, and well-rounded characters combine to create a gripping and powerful series of events that draws the reader in and holds them throughout the book. Wolfe’s characters face crucial moments in their lives, forcing them to make tough choices in an environment that offers few options. And as her novel unfolds readers come to understand that Wolfe’s characters are complex and evolving.

Fe Fe, who narrates the story, is an adult looking back at her twelve-year-old self and her summer of seismic shifts. Wolfe creates a compelling, believable, and seamless voice for Fe Fe, who tells us a pivotal story from her youth as an adult, but at the same time as if she were still that child. I loved this weaving of Fe Fe’s voice, both young and innocent, but at the same time layered with reflection and maturity. If you’re a writer, thinking about writing a book where a character looks back at an event from their childhood, Last Summer on State Street provides an excellent model for the technique.

Why is this book important?

Wolfe’s beautifully written novel illustrates the consequences of racism and segregation against African Americans. A gripping story, skillfully told in first-person POV by Fe Fe Stevens, Wolfe’s debut novel is filled with sadness and joy, broken dreams and hope. And most importantly, it’s a book that can start conversations and encourage understanding among diverse people. Wolfe’s novel tells the story of segregated neighborhoods, poverty, fear, violence, stripped opportunities, and forced displacement. We live in a political climate where some people want to sanitize history, supposedly to spare white people uncomfortableness. But books like Wolfe’s have a much greater power to build bridges of understanding, hopefully fostering amends and shattering stereotypes.

[PEN Open Book Award finalist; Chicago Writers Association Book of the Year Award winner; Stephen Curry Underrated Literati Book Club Pick; Named a Best Book of Summer by Good Housekeeping, Chicago Magazine, The St. Louis Post Dispatch, Chicago Tribune, Veranda, The Milwaukee Sentinel, Publisher’s Weekly, among others.]

P. S. Re: Raymond Carver’s Stories

Posted on April 11, 2024 by youngv2015

When I posted my thoughts yesterday about the twelve Raymond Carver stories I liked, I discussed, from a craft standpoint, what I believe makes those stories so good.

Someone pointed out to me that some of Carver’s stories were heavily edited by his editor Gordon Lish. I was aware of that, having read about it a handful of years ago. But I made a decision to keep the Carver-Lish editing relationship out of the blog because I wanted to focus on what worked in those stories for me. I wanted to write about what I took away from those stories as far as craft. Also, I have no idea which stories on my list were written by Carver when Lish was his editor, and which stories were written by Carver after he stopped working with Lish. Or which stories might be printed as Carver originally wrote them.

I didn’t want to get into the conversation about Carver and Lish because that wasn’t the focus of my blog. But after thinking about it for a day, I should have made mention of the writer-editor relationship between Carver and Lish, so my readers could decide if they still wanted to read the stories. Because I knew about Carver and Lish’s working relationship before I decided to read the stories, I should have let my blog readers know. However, either way, whether a story on my list is solely written by Carver or one written by Carver then heavily edited by Lish, making it more of a collaboration, I still love these stories and admire their craft. And the stories stick to my ribs.

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

Posted on April 10, 2024 by youngv2015

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:

He writes great dialogue, conversations filled with irony, skepticism, avoidance, misunderstandings, and sarcasm — the way angry, unhappy, disillusioned, conflicted people talk.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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)

Posted on March 22, 2024 by youngv2015

*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.

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.

Writing Near the Lake

Tag Archives: Books