Book Review 2010 (Part One)

The review is part one because I am going to take this section to review just two books in some detail, and the next post to make short reviews of all that I read this year. My two selections here are the winning recommendations from last year. I include summaries, but no real spoilers as both books are works of non-fiction.

The Necklace: Thirteen Women and the Experiment That Transformed Their Lives
by Cheryl Jarvis

recommended by GenJunky

Early in this decade, a woman in southern California (who considers herself an old hippie) walked past a jewelry store she had seen dozens of time, but was completely caught off guard by the beauty of a diamond necklace that was on display in the window. Over the ensuing weeks she admired it many times, but was struck by the thought that such remarkable luxury was available to so few. If other resources could be shared, why not a necklace?

Upon finding out that the necklace was going to be auctioned, she sprang into action and recruited a dozen women to each put up $1,000 and put in a bid on the piece. Each would own the necklace. The jeweler, amazed to see such regular and enthusiastic women in his store (diametrically opposed to his regular crowd) that he let the necklace go for a fraction of its worth on the condition that his wife could join the group.

The group, known as "Jewelia" (the truly inane name chosen for The Necklace), met monthly to swap stories, pass on the necklace and, ultimately raise money for charity.

Oh, and fight.

The thing is that while I love the premise of this book, and the idea behind their sharing, I had a really hard time with the book itself. Each chapter is a character sketch of the women. And though each is certainly unique, I have to admit that I didn't really feel connected to any of them. Even the ones described as being of modest means (and some of them certainly had backgrounds that fit the term), seemed exceptionally wealthy to me without truly appreciating just how remarkably blessed they were. It was rather astounding to me that they had to become a part of the group before they felt the necessity of sharing their (vast, by global terms) resources with others.

The jeweler who sold the necklace said the wear and tear on the clasp of the thing indicates that it was worn nearly 700 times the second year after purchasing (like anyone can KNOW that). With a single owner, such a high-end item might be worn just 2 or 3 times in a year. My first thought is that so much wear and share would take away from the wonder and uniqueness of such a thing, but on the other hand, the women say that what makes the necklace so special is the sharing. Interesting idea.

Some of the lessons of the necklace were truly profound. It seems that for the most part, their involvement in the group has made them less selfish, more bonded to a strong sisterhood, and more community-minded. On the other hand, some of the essays seemed trying too hard to create meaning, or shared lessons just a little too personal. Like the woman who only could convince her husband to let her join because she told him that she would wear ONLY Jewelia during their lovemaking. That is only the tip of the TMI iceberg.

I'm not exactly certain why I disliked the book so much. The essays, for the most part, weren't brilliant. Jarvis is a nationally renowned magazine writer (according the jacket), but I really didn't like her writing in this format. The timeline was all over the place; I didn't know what year anything was happening and it lost me a little bit. I also couldn't keep the women straight. Though they were different, most of their stories weren't all that memorable and when she would refer to one of the women later in another's essay, I was always thinking "Which one is this again?"

I think it is a book that would have been wonderful as a blog. The women who started Jewelia should have chronicled their journey in their OWN essays. It may have been more convincing.


A Short History of Nearly Everything
by Bill Bryson

recommended by Katie

I feel a bit sous doing the review of this one now because I haven't actually finished it yet. I was truthfully a bit daunted by the size and topic, though the recommendation came from a highly trusted source. I was hoping to finish by year's end, but it just won't happen. I'll be close, but not quite there.

This book is basically a chronicle of all major scientific discoveries for lay people. I love it because so much of the science he describes I already have a basic understanding of, so I don't get lost in the details. What I didn't know was all the drama behind so many of these discoveries. The history, and maybe more so the telling of it, of scientific thought in the 1800's reads like an episode from a soap opera. He has really delved to find the story behind the eccentric and brilliant people whose remarkable discoveries have made modern life possible. Bryson worked hard to find female contributors as well. (Favorite anecdote read today: Marie Curie was so steeped in radiation that even her personal effects, many of which still are in existence, are still emitting toxic levels of it, 80 years after her death. To handle her things, even her cookbooks!, researchers must don special suits and remove the artifacts from lead-lined boxes. Awesome.)

It would have been so amazing to have had science professors who could have elucidated the history of all the discoveries about which they took such care to teach the details. I can see Bryson's point about science being so fascinating, but so inaccessible. When I teach again I think I will incorporate some of this human drama into the process. What a great approach to a student textbook. This book (which reads like a novel in sections) has also shown me what a great addition to a humanities course the history of science could be.

And I haven't even made it to all the good, meaty biological science portion yet. You see, the oldest science is really math. Once scientists had a good understanding of math, a study of physics became possible. When planetary motion proved baffling, Newton had to first discover a new math (calculus) in order to move forward. From physics you can move outward to astronomy or inward to chemistry. And only when chemical interactions can be explained, understood and cataloged, can the biologist create any meaning from the observations he makes. So the biological stuff will come later. I can hardly wait.

It isn't a book for everyone. I think Bryson kind of takes atheism as a basic premise in his foundation. I, for one, will take just the opposite stance. I find such wonder in all that he describes. Even as we find explanations for things, we can never discount the depth of intelligence in all living things. Our most brilliant men just shake their heads and shrug about what happened, what was, where everything was, in the instant before the Big Bang. I think it will be funny when we get to the other side with our list of questions only to find out that we were wrong about so much that the questions themselves don't even make sense. We will ALL have to go back to Science 101 to really figure stuff out.


Now it is your turn!

Submit your recommendations here. I will randomly choose two and read them next year (preferably a little bit earlier!) along with whatever else happens my way. You can recommend as many books as you'd like, but I will only give each person a maximum of two entries in the contest. A $10 Amazon gift card if I pick your book. Let's try to get 50 recommendations!

Contest ends on January 10.

2010 Wrap Up

I started the morning with some personal responses in the comments section of my last post. I also appreciate personal notes that were sent to me after the post. What an interesting topic for discussion. I hope that some time in the future I will sit down at table with so many smart friends and just chat. With goodies, of course.

It was a year full of so many blessings. I'm filled with such wonderful gratitude today. The year is winding down with a flurry of activity, but punctuated with small moments of sheer happiness. It will be another wonderful Christmas in our family and it felt good to not just spend money this year, but also time. I had three fairly big projects for gifts this year that involved a lot making and creating instead of just buying. It feels very, very good. We worked harder this year to look outside our family as well.

If I am smart, I will allow years like 2010 to stay deep in my memory so that when hard times come I don't forget what happiness feels like, so that I remember God's love and blessing come what may.

Happy Christmas, all.

Sex and Power and the LDS Woman

I find myself singing to my kids often--snippets of songs, really. I think I do this because my mother did. And just like her I sing in snippets because I can't remember all the words and when I am on my own with no music I'm usually off key. One of my earliest mom-song-memories is Helen Reddy singing the great feminist anthem:

I am woman hear me roar
In numbers too big too ignore
And I know too much to go back and pretend
'Cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna' keep me down again.

It is funny, really, that this song, a huge hit the year I was born, should have so permeated my childhood. My mom did not, and definitely does not now, consider herself a feminist. And yet, she represented all that the movement wanted--she rose up from a difficult family life to attend college, told her boyfriend she wouldn't be married until she finished college (marrying in 1969), insisted on going back to work part time after her children were born, managed her own money and bank account for her whole adult life, had four children spaced exactly as she chose them to be. Growing up, it never occurred to me that there might be places in America where men and women weren't treated as equals. In my family, the women always had equal say with the men. Always.

And yet I don't consider myself a feminist either. It is ironic really, because I also completely recognize that my lifestyle, choices and self-actualization are a direct outgrowth from that time. I am not a feminist because for all the good the movement did for women in my generation, there were also heavy costs. A huge part of the movement, and the 1960's in general, was an exploration of sexual "freedom." Instead of helping to create a world where men were held to the same high standard that women had always been judged against, they advocated the freedom for women to act to the lowest common denominator. Empowering women became so wrapped up in sex that all the good work the feminists did ended up resulting in some pretty terrible unintended consequences. Women may now exhibit all kinds of lewd behavior without the consequences of a generation or two ago, but in the process these same women cause men to further objectify them. So much for the sexual revolution being anything more than huge step in the wrong direction.

A few months ago, Kathryn Soper, one of the lovely and talented women behind Segullah, posted an incredible article at a website called "Patheos." The article is about the ways in which we miss the mark when it comes to teaching teen aged women about chastity. Her insights are fascinating, the writing engaging, and her personal experiences deeply poignant. If you haven't had a friend send you the piece yet, you really should take a few minutes to go and read it. Ever since reading it a few weeks ago, I haven't been able to quite put it out of my head, and though I won't be as eloquent, I would like to add some of my own thoughts here.

The article begins by pointing out that most teenage girls do not engage in sexual activity because of an overwhelming desire to have sex. In fact, a New Yorker article from a couple of years ago, when reviewing the Twilight books, believed the popularity of the books was due to the fact that young women want love without sex. Soper asserts the same, and quotes President Ezra Taft Benson to back her up. The teen sex itself is a symptom of a deeper problem. Or problems.

Going further, Soper focuses the rest of her piece on just one of these problems: power.

Too many young girls, maybe particularly LDS girls, feel a lack of power. In this case, power is defined as a person feeling like they have a large measure of control over what happens to them. When we talk about power at church, we most often talk about Priesthood power--exclusive to men; or the power of procreation--inaccessible without a man. It isn't that there aren't plenty of examples of female power within the Church, it is just that our terminology doesn't acknowledge it.

When a powerless feeling is coupled with a strong need for love and/or attention, sexuality is the most obvious default for a teenager. Because, let's face it, ladies, men are wired to be deeply driven by sex. Women who learn from an early age to manipulate that desire can gain a lot of power. Of course, Soper reminds us, the power is just an illusion because it isn't based on something inside the young person, it is based on others' perceptions of her. Like the other power mentioned above, such burgeoning sexual power is based on something a man gives or does or notices.

I'd like to add that the power usually only lasts as long as the object of young man's desire is unattainable. Studies show that the vast majority of teen relationships end within a month or two of a couple's first sexual encounter. Girls, of course, have the most to lose in such a break-up, because it ensures that the temporary substitute for love is now absent, and to make matters worse, she has given up the only source of power that she had. In the self-image crash that inevitably follows, needs deepen further and our powerless young teenager finds herself repeating her mistakes because this time it will be "different."

The remainder of Soper's article is in the form of a personal essay, where she bravely talks about her first encounter with the realization that sexual power was within her grasp. In my own life, I was lucky not to have such an experience when I was in my mid-teens, though I knew that many of my friends understood that power. At the time, it didn't feel lucky. Other than a brief stint during my junior year, I could count on one hand the number of dates I had until I was twenty years old.

I was so jealous of the way my many friends could flirt and tease and even manipulate to find any number of boys with which to spend a Friday night. Or to take out the garbage. Or to lift something heavy. Or to hang on their every word. Or ultimately, to spend three months salary on a diamond ring.

Yet, even as my bitterness and mild disdain for what I perceived as the weakness of men grew (along with frustration over my sisters' cruelty toward them), I was busy cultivating other sources of power: intellectual, emotional and spiritual.

Then, when I was twenty years old, something remarkable happened. After a very unusual set of circumstances that landed me in Sacramento California and hanging out with a guy I didn't really like all that well, I looked into his eyes (too) late one night and I recognized exactly what Kathryn Soper is talking about in her article: sudden approval where before there had only been indifference. Bald desire that frightened me.

I kept my power and walked away from the situation, terrified at what I was capable of, and more than a little embarrassed. Because of this person's previous role in my life, for me to suddenly have such a hold was complete reversal, and more than a little exhilarating. What I learned that night, however, without really realizing it, was that "no," was more powerful than desire. My choice, my decision, was a product of every part of my power, not just my sexuality.

In Disneyland last month I was terribly disappointed not to see more evidence of Mulan: my favorite Disney-heroine and the consummate non-Princess. At the first of that movie, right after a disastrous trip to the matchmaker, she goes to the temple of her ancestors, made up and lovely. She is the classic picture of Chinese beauty. Yet, she knows as she catches her image in the highly polished stones that the gorgeous woman she sees is not a reflection of herself. As she wipes the make-up off just one half of her face, she sings,

Who is that girl I see?
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am, inside?

I saw this movie the summer I met Plantboy. I was quite self-actualized for 23, but I understood Mulan's sentiment exactly. How many times had I asked myself the same question, though perhaps without the moving vocals. Mulan is not just a love story between a man and woman, it is also a love story of a girl and her father, a girl and her country, a girl and herself.

Some time in my early thirties, I finally looked into the mirror one day and loved the woman I saw staring straight back at me. I found the place where I ceased to see myself through others eyes, even Plantboy's, and I felt deeply empowered. Intellectually, emotionally, spiritually and sexually. A balance that had taken me half my life to finally achieve.

The question I have today is, "why did it take so long?" What can be done to speed this process for the wondering and wandering young women we know and love so that they can be the heroines in their own lives?

Just a few weeks ago, a man in our ward gave a wonderful fireside about dating, but during his remarks he noted that if you believed yourself to be "in love" in high school, then you were just being ridiculous. (Ironically, his own wife, to whom he is very close, is his high school sweetheart.) I felt impressed to drive one of my young women home and speak to her a little more closely: she is dealing with some serious empowerment issues right now, and a serious boyfriend issue. I told her that loving another person wasn't ridiculous, and that part of the nature of women was to be loving. I reiterated that it is never okay to break the commandments, but that there are plenty of appropriate ways to give and express all kinds of love, even that feeling of romantic love. I pray that she will feel the power that comes into her life by choosing to be chaste. By choosing to love. By choosing her own path and asserting what she really wants. Mostly I pray that she will find her power before she finds herself on a road where she actually is helpless.

It is a hard thing we ask of our youth and young adults; it is a hard standard the Lord holds us to while simultaneously blessing us with such powerful needs, but we weren't sent here to fail, either. Empowerment is about realizing that we can do hard things. Because I am God's daughter.

A woman.

Strong. Feminine. Empowered.

Hear me roar!

Home. With Souvenirs.

Where to even start? The thing with blogging is that I do it a lot when I have little to say and plenty of time to say it. Today, for example, I have a hundred things I could say and Christmas already breathing heavily down my neck. (I guess that puts Christmas on the "naughty" list.)

In an attempt to organize my thoughts, I will break up my experiences the post into two categories--Awesome. Not Awesome.

Awesome

1. San Fransisco. What a cool city. I would dearly love to go and visit with a few girlfriends next spring to see a show and more of the city. We decided to go the public transport route, which was a good choice, but it also meant that there were parts of the city we couldn't really get to. The weather was gorgeous and sunny. It wasn't the easiest place to take kids, but seeing their faces as they climbed in and out of the submarine was pretty great.

2. Exchanging presents with my sister that we have been collecting and/or making for months . With one sickish child and one baby, she had a very long and difficult week.

3. Meeting up with my family at Disneyland on November 15, which also happens to be my youngest brother's birthday. It was a blast to wait in line for the Peter Pan Ride with each other, swapping stories and joking with one another. We told my mom that for his birthday next year (he'll be 30) we are expecting a cruise! After all, we teased her, he IS the baby and still the favorite. We broke into a spontaneous birthday song while my forever mocking youngest sib turned red with embarrassment. Too bad we forgot to pick up one of these:


And don't forget these bad boys:
4. Everything about California Adventure. That place is really wonderful. I had more fun there than in Disneyland. I loved the way it was all lit up at night down by the water, like an old-fashioned amusement park. A couple of really fun "big-kid" rides are over on that side. We got to see the World of Color show, wherein Disney magic uses a wall of water instead of a screen on which to project images from their shows. (Now available on DVD!!) I thought they should have ended with "Paint With All the Colors of the Wind" however, instead of the cheesy written-for-the-show number called "World of Color" set to the princess-fest images.

5. Seeing the Jedi Knight really come out of his shell as one of the big kid cousins. He tried every "scary" ride except for one and for the most part really loved them, working out some complicated ranking system for the rides. The only one he didn't love was Space Mountain. "That was the worst experience of my life!" he said more than once when he came out. Still, it didn't scar him too bad. He told somebody the other day that the vacation, as a whole, was the "best experience of his life."

6. Mostly short lines and gorgeous, temperate weather. Don't tell anyone, but the week before Thanksgiving is the time to go.

7. Watching all four cousins who wanted to participate get picked for the Jedi show at the same time. One of the boys has tried four times. Jedi Knight stared down a very realistic Darth Maul, with no small amount of terror in his face, but his training kicked in and he didn't join the Dark Side, I'm happy to report. I have had some worry on that point.

8. Shamu. Duh. The Youngling had picked up a stuffed Shamu after the first show and carried her around all day. When we went to another Shamu show, he acted out all of Shamu's best "moves" with his stuffy. Youngling has hardly been able to part from her since we got home.

9. Spending the night with my lovely cousin in San Diego. She holds a very special place in my heart, and we relate to one another on a level that isn't always there with other members of my extended family. Her kids were hilarious and an instant bond was struck with five boys ages 3 to barely 9. I remembered just how much I liked her husband and how grateful I am to the Angel who sent him to her. I wish we could see them more often. Maybe they need to come north next time--a house on the coast would be just the thing when the 100 degree days rage across southern California again next summer.

10. Rides. Even the stupid ones. I love rides. I love getting scared out of my mind and leaving my stomach at the top of a ledge or slope or loop. I love the cheesy blacklight Disney paraphernalia and the ridiculously dated animatronics. I fell down at the end of each day just as exhausted as my children. It is remarkable what eight hours of sleep every night for a week can do to your outlook. Oh, and not having to cook a single meal.

11. Legoland. Everything about it. Everything. My kiddos were the perfect ages and we were able to see nearly all of the park in just a day. JK got the hard-to-find set of Legos that he's been saving months and months to buy. He was so happy.


12. Park food. Really. I don't think we had a bad meal inside any of the parks. We were pretty selective, and you do pay through the nose for it (what does that mean, anyway? If they would take what was coming through my nose then why didn't we just spend that?), but I felt like we at least didn't have to eat disgusting or greasy food. I especially loved my broccoli cheddar soup in a Boudin bread bowl on our last, cold night in California Adventures. Little did we know just what that chill in the air was going to mean!

13. The matching shirts that made my mom so happy and were a source of endless amusement.

Not Awesome

1. Getting lost in San Fransisco while trying to navigate our way to a hotel, and then a busy Saturday in the city with three kids.

2. Waiting 40 minutes for Peter Pan (almost the worst line of the week!) only to create an absolute terror of the dark in Padawan. The rest of the week, the question that preceded each ride was, "Is it dark?" Mostly I was truthful, but my memory from so many years back wasn't great and we made a few mistakes. For future reference, if you tell a youngish child that Splash Mountain will "not get them very wet, isn't dark, and isn't scary," then you are lying through your teeth.

3. Missing most of the Dolphin show because Plantboy took JK down to the "splash zone" while I sat with the little ones who got too hot and had too much sun in their eyes. We walked across the stadium and down to the shade, risking the splash zone wrath. We'd been seated for about 40 seconds when the Youngling had to pee. In fact, much of the whole trip seemed to involve either Plantboy or myself hunting desperately for a public toilet, and then convincing him that the gaping, noisy hole wouldn't suck his tiny butt right down. I quickly realized that all exits, except those at the TOP of the 50 stairs I'd just come down were closed. I ran him to the top, found my mom to sit next to Padawan and circled around the whole stadium to find a toilet that was 20 feet the opposite direction. "No accidents mom!" Back up the stairs to the top of the stadium and back down. I caught less than ten minutes of the Dolphin show. Raspberries.

4. Too many people EVERYWHERE. California is a nice place to visit very occasionally, but wouldn't want to live there. Twice this year (Redwoods, March) was ample.

5. The matching shirts that made my mom so happy and were a source of endless amusement.

Souvenirs

In this blog, I have tried to take the experiences I have on the journey and try to learn from them. Memories and lessons are, after all, the best souvenirs. After one particularly long letter from my mission, my mother wrote to say that I was the kind of person who "could glean a lot of living out of ordinary experiences." I think she meant it as a compliment, though sometimes I wonder if she was saying that I needed to just stop over thinking things!

To the purpose of gleaning some living, I'd like to share about our last day of vacation. The original plan had been to drive to Sacramento on Saturday and then the rest of the way home Sunday. This would break the trip into two 7-8 hour legs. Upon finding out the Primary Program was that Sunday, and consulting with the kids, we were in agreement--we had to be back on Sunday. It was better all around--we would avoid LA traffic completely by leaving at 3 in the morning, we would arrive home in time for everyone to have a good night's rest, and the kids would sleep at least a third of the ride in the car.

As of Redding, California, we were right on track, even with a long lunch. We were about 150 miles from the border and my calculations put us home at about 7 o'clock. Just time for grilled cheese sandwiches and bed. Then the snow started.

And didn't stop.

We got to the top of the pass in the Cascades in a near standstill. I was shaking like a leaf when we came to the road worker near an exit called Pollard Flats. (Don't bother finding it on the map; I don't think it is a real city. Just a gas station with a greasy spoon diner inside. And a bathroom. Thank heavens for that.

It was about four o'clock and here is the information we had: I-5 North was closed down for several miles while they tried to clear a wreck despite the ice and snow. Plows hadn't been down there yet. Nobody was going through without chains. "It might be open in an hour. It might be closed for three days. You just never know."

In short, we had very little information. We did, however, have chains. Why we had them defies all logic. Dressed in our southern California gear--I was in a light, matchy sweatsuit and Plantboy in shorts and a tee shirt--we figured out how to put the chains on using the waterproof (thank goodness for that) instructions.

While struggling to tighten the chains with numb fingers and soaked to the knees, I had a major epiphany. I knew that in just a couple of minutes I would be able to get inside the car and turn the heat all the way up if needed. We could go into the station and get some hot chocolate to warm the inside too. Even in the worst case scenario we'd be home safe and snug in bed in a few days. My kids were warm and dry. We had a full gas tank in the event that we'd need to run the car all night. We had food in the car and a few clean clothes.

I thought about my pioneer ancestors and bit back complaint. I thought about how pathetic and modern and useless I am.

After consulting with the kids, who were completely broken-hearted at the prospect of missing Sunday, we prayed at length and comforted one another. Prayer finished, we looked up to see five snowplows getting ready to head north. Miracles come in many forms.

But still we waited. I reminded Padawan about his talk for the next day: how Nephi was obedient even when it was hard. We decided we would do the same. An iPod with video capability, a charged laptop, the DVD player and a couple of good books didn't hurt our patience a bit. We ended up with two more bathroom stops. I reminded myself to be grateful even as I tried desperately not to touch anything in the filthy public restroom, even when the power went out while I was on the commode. There was a tub in there, which was odd enough, but somebody had hilariously added a really grotesque mannequin to it. Just weird. And don't get me started on the bumper stickers papering the walls; I really am grateful that the kind of folks of Pollard Flats decided to come to work that day.

Three hours later we gratefully left that little town, crawling along at 30 mph (speed limit 70) for the 70 miles it took to get to Weed, California. Yes, really. We de-chained two-hundred miles from home. It was 10:30 pm and we had to change drivers three more times to keep from falling asleep. Plantboy and I went to bed at 2 am.

But we were on time for church. Padawan's talk was wonderful and perfect. His little freckly face spoke straight from his heart and my own spirit was deeply touched.

Our six hour delay taught me so much.

* Before I knew what was happening, my stress was so palpable that I could, quite literally, feel my muscles stiffening as my heart beat faster and faster. Once we had something to DO, even something as miserable as trying to put chains on our van, I felt so much better. So stress will kill me, but when I'm busy I don't feel stressed. It has helped me to see that the fog I've felt for the last year or so is probably because of uncertainty. Having plenty to do is not the problem.

* Being exhausted and stressed makes me snarly and mean. Plantboy, patient man, is still kind to me. By the time we snuggled into our covers in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I couldn't believe how blessed I am to be married to him. And while this isn't a NEW revelation, certainly, it is always a good reminder.

* I need to get a lot better about letting go of things I cannot control. I tried a lot harder this last week to just take deep breaths when things get crazy and just be in the moment. I feel a lot better. More committed to what really matters. More conscious of the gifts I've been given.

Happy Christmas, all.

Trying to Get My Head Above Water

I've got a long post nearly ready. It is all about my vacation and what I learned, etc. etc. The problem is that I am two weeks out and Disneyland is feeling so last month because I also want to post about my awesome Thanksgiving dinner, the extremely cool changes that are taking place in our ward, this must-read article by (the great) Kathryn Soper, etc. etc.

Instead I'm taking time out from my regularly scheduled life to point out the following:

Flynn Ryder is adorable.


"You became my new dream, Rapunzel."

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Talk about your Darcy Effect.