‘The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ’ by Phillip Pullman

This book is Pullman’s re-imagination of the story of Jesus’ birth. Rather than a single child, Mary gave birth to twins. There are still mysterious events that take place in this retelling, but not events that are as miraculous as those from the bible. And the reader is certainly not given any reason to believe that either brother is of divine parentage. Jesus seems to do unpredictable things, but has consistently good intentions; he attracts followers and inspires people with his faith. Christ tracks his brother and records his movements and actions for a mysterious third party. He frequently bends the truth in his records to make things seem more miraculous than they actually were.

I’m especially inclined to like anything written by Phillip Pullman, as I enjoyed the His Dark Materials trilogy so much. This was another interesting book, but it represents a departure from the material that Pullman’s readers are familiar with. It is written in shorter bible-like chapters. There are short stories/episodes that represent events of importance. I suspect that this book would be more fun for a person who is more familiar with the bible than I am. I recognize many bible stories that have been altered to fit Pullman’s version of the story, but I’m certainly no expert.

In defense of the brother Christ, he makes some bad decisions, but isn’t the scoundrel that the title lead me to expect. Really, he just seemed like a sad man.

‘For all the tea in China’ By Sarah Rose

Do you wonder how tea production moved from China to India in the 19th century? I certainly never did, and I suspect that you’re in the minority if you spend your time thinking about that sort of thing. Even though I had never wondered about Asian tea production, I decided that For all the Tea in China sounded like an interesting book. Sarah Rose follows the travels of Robert Fortune, a British Horticulturist, as he travels to China to learn tea production methods and smuggle plants and seeds out of the Chinese mountains. I’m always impressed by how well documented some people’s lives are; even though he lived over 100 years ago, Fortune’s movements in China are very precise. It is fairly obvious that some parts are imagination on Rose’s part – a smile, a meal, a wince of pain, are these really things that can be proven by historical records? But these interactions that I’m assuming are not necessarily factual are probably good educated guesses on the part of the author.

There was a short mention of something in the closing paragraphs of this book that bothered me a little bit, mostly because the subject had been nagging at me the entire time I was reading. Rose brought up the fact that imported plants can overrun indigenous plants and wreak havoc on natural habitats. As the subject of this book is Robert Fortune’s botanical espionage and not environmental conservation, I can understand that much time was not spent on the subject, but Rose spends so much time putting his actions into context, that it seems awfully abrupt the way this in mentioned.

For all the Tea in China manages to be adventurous and engaging, while also sparking an interest in other historical events that provide context for the tea trade (such as the opium trade and health benefits of tea). Hopefully readers of this book will not only be tea aficionados; the story and writing is sure to appeal to a wide variety of other readers as well.

‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’ By Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is set in England shortly after World War II. The main character is an author trying to decide on a topic for her next book; she had been writing satirical commentary on the war until recently. A letter arrives from a stranger who lives on the channel island of Guernsey, and they begin to correspond. Though the entire story takes place during 1946, the lives of the island inhabitants haven’t really moved past the German occupation. The people still show signs of being deprived of life’s comforts, and friends and family members haven’t all returned to the island. Even though it is a wonderful story about friendship, reading, love and family, the book also serves to illustrate how long tragedy stays with a community.

This book is written in a very interesting (though certainly not unheard of) style. The narration comes in the form of letters written between the characters, and there isn’t any actual narrator at work. I should say that the narration comes from selected letters, because not all of the characters’ correspondence is included; there are references to events and conversations that we don’t hear of firsthand. I enjoy this; I feel that readers and authors are hesitant to leave anything to the imagination, which is what fiction is supposed to be all about. Happily, Shaffer and Barrows were able to omit letters that they did not deem necessary without leaving anything wanting in the story.

'The Water's Lovely' by Ruth Rendell

I suppose it’s obvious by now that I really enjoy Ruth Rendell. She always manages to surprise me, which ought to be one of the primary goals of any good suspense writer. Unfortunately it also seems to be a relatively rare gift among those who write suspense books.

The Water’s Lovely tells the story of two sisters and the mystery of their stepfather’s death in the upstairs bathtub when they were children. Though it sounds fairly straightforward, Rendell has several other equally well-developed characters; one sister’s love interest, their lonely aunt, a manipulative fortune hunter, etc. In typical Rendell style, all of the lives intersect wonderfully and the reader is eager to find out what will happen to the characters.

Another thing that I thoroughly enjoy about Rendell stories is the fact that she often focuses on topics that are important to women. This book offers several examples of relationship abuse and violence. Though I know very little about her personal life, I get the feeling that the author has pretty strong political feelings and she is doing a very good job of expressing them subtly in her work. But then again, I may just be projecting my own opinions.

Overall, this was another great book by Ruth Rendell, but I would have expected nothing less.

'What is the What: The autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng' by Dave Eggers

Like “How many licks does it take to reach the center of a Tootsie Pop?”, the world may also never know the answer to the question “What is the what?” The question refers to a Sudanese religious fable that is told by the father of Valentino Achak Deng, the subject of What is the what. In the fable, the Dinka (indigenous people of southern Sudan) are given a choice by God to receive either cattle or the what as a gift. Not knowing what the what is, the Dinka choose the cattle, and this pleases god, because it shows that they are able to be content with the known rather than desiring the unknown.

The source of the title, though it is brought up numerous times in the book, isn’t really the central action of the book. Valentino Achak Deng is one of the Sudanese Lost Boys who escaped Sudan and was eventually able to move to the United States. There are two story lines in the book: the present day, Valentino is being robbed in his home in Georgia, and a flashback to his boyhood experiences. There are parts of the book that made me cry and terrified me, but there were also points that made me laugh out loud. But I suppose that is one of the makings of a really good tragedy – the inclusion of a little laughter. Maybe that is the what.

The book is described as an autobiography, but Dave Eggers did write the story and used a bit of creative license as I understand it. I don’t suppose there is a way to tell a story like this without having it be heartbreaking and horrifying; I can’t imagine how one person could have suffered as much as Valentino. But the book manages to be optimistic and hopeful, despite all that life has done to him, Valentino manages to be admirable and resilient.

'Don't Sleep There are Snakes' by Daniel Everett

Lately, I’ve been becoming increasingly interested in off-grid living; relying as little as possible on public and government programs and funds to support oneself. With this in mind, reading Don’t Sleep There are Snakes has been enjoyable and thought provoking. Author and linguist Daniel Everett has been regularly spending time with the Pirahã population of the Amazon since the 1970’s. This book, discusses not only the linguistic implications of what has been learned from Everett’s work, but also the lifestyle and values of the people being studied. Of course, the reader will see that the culture of the Pirahã is crucial to the linguistic conclusions that Everett has drawn, but even if it weren’t, it’s just so darn interesting.

Since I’m not an expert in linguistics (and one doesn’t have to be to enjoy this book), I’ll have to take Everett’s word for it when he writes that his conclusions are controversial and unusual. Instead I’m inclined to focus on the lifestyle and the anecdotes that illustrate their personalities. After reading this book, I’m impressed with the comfort and contentedness that the Amazonian people have in their lives. They have certainly achieved something that I can only hope to attain.
A favorite passage from the book:
They [the Pirahãs] have no craving for truth as a transcendental reality. Indeed, the concept has no place in their values. Truth to the Pirahãs is catching a fish, rowing a canoe, laughing with your children, loving your brother, dying of malaria. Does this make them more primitive? Many anthropologists have suggested so, which is why they are so concerned about finding out the Pirahãs’ notions about God, the world, and creation.

But there is an interesting alternative way to think about things. Perhaps it is the presence of these concerns that makes a culture more primitive, and their absence that renders a culture more sophisticated. If that is true, the Pirahãs are a very sophisticated people. Does this sound far-fetched? Let’s ask ourselves if it is more sophisticated to look at the universe with worry, concern, and a belief that we can understand it all, or to enjoy life as it comes, recognizing the likely futility of looking for truth or God?

In Conclusion, it is a wonderful book, one that I certainly recommend.

‘The Bridge of San Luis Rey’ by Thornton Wilder

I always enjoy unusually formatted books and movies. Wilder’s The Bridge of San Luis Rey is the story of a Peruvian bridge that collapses, killing the five people who are crossing at the time. Brother Juniper, a local friar, takes it upon himself to investigate the lives of the five people who perish. If he can discover the secrets of their lives, he can understand the reason that they were chosen by god to die. The book is broken up into sections that tell the stories of the people who die, with Brother Juniper’s story acting as an introduction and conclusion; the reader learns that the lives were connected by more than just the bridge collapse.

Obviously, Brother Juniper’s mission is problematic for a number of reasons. One of the fundamental aspects of most well-known religions is that the great majority of people aren’t supposed to know the motives of whatever supreme leader the religion happens to worship. Of course, people try to understand their god’s motives anyway, which leads to another problem: you can rationalize anything if you try hard enough. However dubious Brother Juniper’s investigation and results may be, it is interesting to try to look at these lives through his point of view; trying to understand why a particular person would have been selected to die.

The premise of the book reminds me very much of the evangelical religious figures who try to justify natural disasters by referencing the so-called sins of the affected area. From lesbianism to voodoo, every area that is struck by tragedy is sure to have at least one shortcoming. If people keep looking hard enough, they may be able to justify all death, and the result may end up being the same as Brother Juniper’s.