The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini: In Review

The Kite Runner reads like a fable. The narrative has an old fashioned style, filled with  clearly stated moral lessons that are repeated through out. The repetition reinforces their importance.  Outside of the main protagonist, the characters are either virtuous or evil never muddled in a grey area. The themes: relationships between father and son, betrayal vs loyalty, honor, and redemption match its traditional narrative style. But, the thoroughly modern aspect of this novel comes from its relevant context and setting. Hosseini's tale weaves the reader through the last 30 years of Afghani history from a monarchy, to USSR occupation, to the Taliban.  Through the eyes of a child to the reveries of a man, the novel is filled with memorable quotes ("For you a thousand times over"- Hassan) and heart-wrenchingly relateable experiences.   As an American, and member of the 911 generation, this novel provides a needed perspective into the lives of the individual for a population that would have otherwise remained over stereotyped and generalized to me. It is an important novel for its insights, and a notably touching novel for its character development.

5/5- Amir and Hassan, the Sultans of Kabul, approved.

Mom's Night Out

 MOM'S NIGHT OUT aka Resurrecting the Before Baby You

Now, I'll preface this article by saying, I love my little lady. I am a full time momma, in practice and in heart. I spend my days singing songs, tracing her little features with my finger as she nurses, giving funny voices to her stuffed animals and book characters, and kissing her little cheeks until she pushes me away. But, of course, there's apart of me that misses my pre-baby freedoms.

 Baby girl is 8 months old. She is slowly growing more independent everyday. She eats solids: cutting nursing time down. She loves toys: so babysitters can distract her. So, I was pretty intrigued the first time I went to my (4 hour long) job and returned to a smiling baby, rather than a meltdown -where is mommy?! Daddy, you suddenly seem sinister- baby. She had let out a little slack on her mommy leash. Well, you give me an inch... I want a mile. And a mile to me means getting reacquainted with my social life! Ok, maybe the term"social life" is shooting for the moon a little bit. But, compared to my once a month trip to the coffee shop, mom groups, and the occasional dinner at our house with friends; a "social life" to me could mean "Goes to ONE party and stays for more than 2 hours" or "Has drink with 2 or more friends at bar where no babies are allowed" or even "Goes shopping for own clothes in store that does not have shopping carts". Dare to Dream.

As my head spins with the possibilities, a delicious realization strikes. MY BB FRIENDS. I COULD SEE MY BB FRIENDS!!!I like to refer to my before-motherhood friends as "BB" friends. Before Baby. Labeling my BB friends this way makes them seem like precious relics from the past. Which they are.
 Any friends I make now, especially through new moms groups and baby activities, fall into the AD friends. After Diapers. I cherish my AD friends. They are like a Ya-ya sisterhood of understanding supporters who help me get through the day to day. ...But, my BB friends... they are magical. They have a super power: Time Travel. When I see them, I feel like BB-Me.

Becoming a mom changes things and it changes you. You're still you, but you're a lot different than you use to be. Before-baby-you scoffed at the poop-centered horror stories of parenthood. You accepted that your storytelling friend may have been forced into handling poop on a daily basis, but reassured yourself that that life wasn't meant for you. That wasn't your future. You'll be the poop-less parent, potty training your offspring at 3 weeks old. Psst. Guess what. You are handling that poop, my friend. You are handling it and you'll get a sick, twisted satisfaction about your ability to handle it well. You and the baby's other caregivers will brag about the size and stink of the last diaper. That diaper you dealt with was DEFINITELY more terrible than the one someone else handled. You'll find yourself saying things like, "Oh, you think blueberry butt is bad? You obviously never fed her bananas." I don't know why dirty diaper competitiveness exists, but I know it does. And when you're busy one-upping each other over poop all day-when that seems normal- integrating yourself back into regular society can be a little challenging. BB friends don't understand the thrill of poop wars.

But, your BB friends are expecting the BB, non poop-obsessed, you. Which is fair, the BB you is who they signed up for. They didn't force you to have a baby. They didn't go and change up the game. That was you. So, it's good to put a little effort into resurrecting the BB you.

Here's how it usually goes for me:

First, I way overshoot the plans. LETS GO TO MEXICO FOR THE WEEKEND.
Then, I check myself.
Ok. Let's see a movie... IN A THEATER.
Better.
OMG!!! LETS GET A BEER FIRST! OMG!!!
I'm. On. Fire.

Then, I find myself standing in front of my closest. I'm just staring at the clothes. I've worn them many times before...it's just been awhile. Like over a year. Suddenly, I'm aware at how many pairs of sweatpants and sweatshirts are in my hamper. I redirect my attention back to the closet. The closet filled with the clothes with buttons and zippers. The fancy ones.  I could wear them again. I could match things... but... I remember, my clothes don't come as matching sets.  Which is probably a good thing. I don't think I can pull off little blue birds on every piece of clothing and accessory I have on, anyway.  Finally after an hour, I stand triumphantly in jeans, a slightly dressier than my usual sweatshirt style shirt, and riding boots. I think I'm done getting ready. My husband, gently, reminds me that people usually brush their hair and put on make up. Life is complicated, again. My hair tries to hold its pony-tail shape in defiance as I wrestle it straight. I put on lip gloss and mascara. I look at my showered, brushed, make up wearing self in the mirror.  I am Beyonce.

I'm ten minutes late to meet my friend because it took me 45 minutes to stop crying and kissing the baby. I was frozen in our nursery from a sudden surge of mom-guilt. "ARGGGG!!! SHE KNOWS I'M CHOOSING TO LEAVE HER!!!!!! SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW YOU!!!" "...i'm her father, honey..." "THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT!!!!" Once my husband shoved me out of our door, I was happily on my way.

I see my friend and instantly creep her out with my over zealous greeting. HEYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!AHHHHHHH!!! HEYYYYY!!! OMG HEYYYYYYY!!!!!
Things get creepier as I sit there silently grinning and staring at her. I'm eating up every detail of her exciting non-baby life. She is way more fascinating to me than she should be.
She tries to engage me in conversation...
What's new with me? mmm... can't talk about poop... Nothing.
Did I go to that new bar yet? No.
Did I go to that new restaurant yet? No.
Did I see that new movie in the theaters yet? No. Oh, Am I going to? Is it the one we are seeing right now? No? Then no.
We establish that I don't leave my house.
Somehow, our years of friendship fill the gaps made of life-differences and lack of conversation material and we are still laughing & talking.
The movie is mediocre at best. But... I'm sitting down with out anyone needing anything from me for 2 whole hours. 
After the movie ends, my friend says, "it was great seeing you! Good time!"

I return home- back to the present. Time traveling has made me feel powerful, young, and connected again.  Time traveling made me miss the baby like crazy. To me this feels like the Best Night Ever. Only another month or so until I can do it again... ;)

Read Along with Me...

There is only one thing I enjoy as much as reading books, and that is talking about them. Nursing my baby girl, usually puts her to sleep- leaving me 2 hours to read every single day. That means a lot of books. 

Here's the list of my recent- reads, since she was born, I'd love some literary company!

• Still Life with WoodPecker by Tom Robbins
• Anna Karenina By Leo Tolstoy
• The Perks of being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
• The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
• Portrait's in Sepia by Isabel Allende
• Moby Dick by Herman Melville
• Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
• Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
• The Help by Kathryn Stockett
• The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
• A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
• The Awakening by Kate Chopin
• As I lay Dying by William Faulkner
• Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
• The Portable Dorothy Parker Edited by Marion Meade
• To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
• Slaughterhouse five by Kurt Vonnegut
• Hyperbole and a half by Allie Brosh 
• The Story Sisters by Alice Hoffman

Any suggestions? 

The Awakening by Kate Chopin: in review

This was a reread for me and I loved it just as much the second time around. The first time I read "The Awakening" I was in high school. I connected with many of the narrator's emotional movements, woman-to-woman, but had limited life experience and immaturity stunting my reading experience. This time, as a 28 year old married woman, reading about a 28 year old married woman, I only had the difference of cultural setting and time period challenging my imagination.

Kate Chopin is an artist of words. She paints rich pictures by layering plot movement, meticulous description, and complex emotion into the same sentence. Her novel was controversial when it was released for its feminist ideas and "indecent" plot line for its audience in the early 1900s. Interestingly enough, the plot line is void of dramatic action (no explosions, murder, or mystery within these pages), yet its gripping content propels the reader to read and read. What happens in the novel? A privileged woman goes to her beach house in grand isle with her husband and kids, she learns to swim, she hangs out with a friend, gets a crush on the friend, picks up painting, moves back to be city home, frustrates her husband, gets an apartment, stirs up a bit of scandal, her friend has a baby, and then, finally, a dramatic- tragic- end. K. An affair. Nothing new in classic literature- just ask Emma Bovary or Anna Karenina. So, what makes this novel different? Character development, emotional growth, and honest, effective, description of what lies within many people's hearts. Chopin's writing style, the point of view, makes the reader become Edna. The reader feels the angst, the butterflies, the disappointment,  the excitement. Chopin makes the reader understand how it feels to live in a time where the  traditions of the culture could be oppressive even when they appeared pleasant. Her take home message translated into a present day slogan could read, "Live Free or Die Trying".

4.5/5-- .5 subtracted because I wish she could have figured out a way to allow our protagonist to have a more victorious ending without sacrificing the symbolism of the ending. (I will end with cryptically, as my goal is to lessen my spoilers.)

The Help By Kathryn Stockett: In Review

How pretenious, I thought to myself while reading the first few chapters of The Help by Kathryn Stockett. This author, an affluent white woman has the gall to write from the first person perspective of an African American woman serving as a maid in Mississippi in the early 1960s. How could she possibly pretend to know what that experience feels like? How could she create a believable-even just a  passable-narrative of the thoughts inside the minds of these characters, that are so different from herself? But, there I was, riveted by Aibileen's tenderness towards the little white baby she was charged with caring for, laughing at Minny's sass, crying over the purity of the goodness prevailing over the disgusting injustices. Stockett was doing it. And she was doing it incredibly well. Of course, how she was doing it became clearer as she introduced the character Skeeter- the white writer, who takes it upon herself to collect stories and observe the world around her carefully, critically: seeking truth. I assume this is Mrs. Stockett's closest self representation with her novel.

 Now to get the grit of it, the review. How was her writing? Efficient, smooth, colorful, descriptive. I felt as if I was both watching a movie in my mind, and chatting with a friend, as I read through the pages. How are the characters? Love-able, relate-able, realistic, and sometimes despicable (I'm looking at you, Hilly). How is the plot? entertaining, suspenseful, and sometimes realistically mundane as it follows everyday lives. Would I recommend it? Yes. Not only did her style of writing inspire me to try a more conversational approach to my own writing, but the story itself celebrates women's strength, highlights the importance of doing what is right, and forces the reader to remember both how dark and how beautiful life can be.

I just loved it.

5/5 Stars.

God Grant Me The Serenity

It happened again. I saw another flippant Facebook post from a so-called friend of my loved one, making light of and laughing about how it was only a matter of time before he 'fell off the wagon' and joined "his people" again. We are dealing with heroin here. We are referencing someone who has overdosed twice, and is struggling to stay alive, battling his addiction. His response? "LOL".

I usually write in my blog with the intention to inspire my readers, but this entry is self-motivated. I need to vent. I need to get this recurring thought out of my head, and into a space where it can be potentially shared before I throw up.  I am tired of feeling sick to my stomach from biting my tongue as I watch a disturbing trend-of-thought encompass too many of my friends and family.

This trend is the "glory story"- specifically the "glory story" attached to being "bad ass" or "legendary" when referencing the party life. I'm talking about the world of the binge drinkers, fight starters, and drug users. The circumstance that I keep finding myself in.  Where, I'm listening in horrified disgust to people compete with each other to claim the title of, what I can only guess is, Most '2nd Chances' Rewarded to Reckless Idiocy. Usually, everyone is laughing. The story teller is grinning. Their audience is laughing, and urging them on.

 I have been the story teller. I have been the gleeful audience member. But, as I got older...I have been the person calling the rehab for my loved ones. I have been the person who had to say goodbye too soon.

I'm in a position where I am affronted by this situation and its aftermath more than some people, as I am a drug & alcohol counselor by trade, ex-alcohol abuser, and family member to several active & recovering addicts.

 There is no glory in surviving your self inflicted destructive behavior. Pretending its funny helps it happen again. It enables the hazy addictive cycle to perpetuate. It leads you closer to relapse. Telling yourself you're strong for surviving a powerful drug or close-call situation is a sickness. I want to scream STOP IT! When I see this happening. But, I also know that I can not and should not control anyone but myself...even if I love them.

Just know, when you're laughing it off, someone who loves you may cry.

As I Lay dying: In review

"As I Lay Dying" by William Faulkner was a quick read, except for my continual need to reread the dialect to comprehend it. Interpreting the dialect and following the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) changes between each character's narrative style was challenging.

Quick Plot Summary with Spoilers:

The Bundrens' mother Addie has passed away. Anse Bundren, the father, has decided that Addie must be buried in Jefferson, despite many obstacles, including a storm that has made the trek to Jefferson very perilous. His children, Darl, Cash, Jewel, Dewey Dell, and Vardaman are dragged along for the ride. Despite appearing callous and irresponsible, Anse gets help from many neighbors along the way and ultimately comes out on top- considering his  goals seem to be to get a new set of teeth and a new wife in Jefferson, both events he succeeds in. His children and original team of mules are not so lucky. Cash, the carpenter, breaks a leg and has it sealed in cement by Anse. Darl, the most thoughtful & articulate of the bunch, loses his mind, sets fire to a barn, and ends in asylum. Jewel loses his horse in a trade made by Anse and gets identified as a bastard son. Dewey Dell is mistreated while in pursuit of getting an abortion for her unwanted pregnancy. Vardaman, relatively unscathed compared to his siblings, becomes preoccupied with the idea that his mother is a fish. And the team of mules are drowned trying to cross a flooded river. The point of all this hardship seems to be for Faulkner to highlight what it means to be human. The philosophy of what it means to "be" is repeatedly visited.

Rating: 3/5- Lacking a true hero figure and concluding with injustice prevailing , this read, although thought provoking and stylistically interesting, was kind of a downer.