Friday! Newish Science Books

By now you've probably figured out that I'm an eclectic reader. You might never have guessed that I'm always looking for cutting-edge science books. Unfortunately, relatively few end up in libraries and bookstores. But yesterday I snatched up some intriguing titles at Crandall Library. How many times can I say thank you, Crandall?

The human brain fascinates me. And this one, The Other Brain: From Dementia to Schizophrenia--How New Discoveries about the Brain Are Revolutionizing Medicine and Science by R. Douglas Fields, Ph.D. (2009), has excited my neurons, that's for sure. Did you know that 85% of brain cells are glia (meaning "glue")? The rest are neurons. For many years, scientists thought glia was mere packing material. Actually, I think it's more likely that scientists knew they didn't have a clue what glia cells did. But today it's recognized that malfunctioning glia play a role in all kinds of brain diseases and disorders. Glia are very important to the encoding of memory, for instance. I'm eager to know more. The older I get, the more precious my memory has become, as faulty as it is, and I want to know everything about it.


I have reservations about The Fatal Strain: On the Trail of Avian Flu and the Coming Pandemic by Alan Sipress (Viking, 2009). Alas, Sipress is neither a scientist nor a science journalist. He's the economics editor at The Washington Post and recently, a foreign correspondent in Southeast Asia. Ordinarily, such author credentials would make me put the book back on the library shelf. But I flipped through it, read a passage here and there, scanned the copious, detailed footnotes, and thought I'd at least see what he put together.


But you know, no book will ever beat the best book thus far written on global epidemiology, The Coming Plague by Laurie Garrett. Took me forever to read it, but it was solid, exciting science. It's my favorite science book of all time. Yes, it was published way back in 1995, but what she wrote then still holds true today. If you like solid science writing, this is it! Scroll all the way down on the Charlie Rose interview link for the best interviews with Garrett.

Wintergirls

It's been a few years since I crossed the Rubicon to read a YA novel. How did I know that Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson would resonate with me? Lia is eighteen and in a desperate struggle for her life. The death of her best friend and former anorexic co-conspirator drives Lia deeper into starvation, confusion, and peril. She trusts no one, not a soul, with the fact that her friend left 33 cellphone messages for her on the night of her death--messages that Lia did not even listen to due to a break-up in their decade of friendship.

Judging by the author's note at the end of the book, Anderson wrote Wintergirls in response to years of pleas from her readers, pediatricians, and teachers to write a book about teenage girls who suffer from eating disorders.

But based on my reading of Wingergirls and my experience recovering (finally) from anorexia as a young adult, I find it nearly impossible to believe that Anderson had no personal experience with the disorder. That's how true this book is. Extraordinary research, I suppose, or the author has closer ties to the problem than she acknowledges. Of course, it shouldn't matter.
Of course not.

I would not recommend that girls or boys ensnared in an eating disorder read this book. It would, in my opinion, be incredibly triggering and would be likely to toss them ever deeper into the thrall of starvation.

I'd suggest Wintergirls for people of all ages, deep into their recovery, reading this book in the supervision of an experienced, rock-solid therapist or counselor. And, of course, for any adult who has struggled and survived adolescent angst.

The German Classic!

I'm not sure how to begin writing about the German writer Hans Fallada, or about his classic novel Every Man Dies Alone, first published in Germany in 1947 and recently republished in the U.S. in 2009 by Melville House, an independent publisher and owner of the book blog Moby Lives.
I'm intense about post-war German literature (1945-) that focuses on the era of the Nazi Regime. And all my conscious life (age 12+) have wondered how people cope with such a devastating, annihilating past and the fact that their society slaughtered millions of people. Adjectives just don't paint the picture, no matter how many I string together.

I search for answers in German literature from every generation since 1945. What is fascinating about Every Man Dies Alone, is that it was written immediately after the war, in the final months of 1946, by a writer whose consciousness, whose entire life, was enmeshed in the struggle to live within a society molded by Nazi horror.

Fallada is not an apologist, not a writer ducking the hard questions about his fellow Germans. He creates a portrait of a people that lived solely by their fears and were convinced of their incapacity to look beyond them.

Not everyone, though. Not Otto and Anna Quangel, a couple in their early 50s. Like Fallada, or Rudolph Ditzen (Fallada's real name), they decide to commit small weekly acts of freedom and treason in the hopes that they will have a frisson of impact on others too afraid to look up from the pavement.

Fallada agonized over the writings he authored at the behest of the Nazi Party in the 1930s. To compensate, he drank wine until he was psychotic, and penned works that were anti-fascist at the core but not overtly recognizable as such. These were his small acts against the Nazis.

Fallada and his family had a chance to escape very, very late in the game, but, after a long walk, he decided he couldn't leave Germany. Perhaps he couldn't walk out on all the suffering he knew was to come, that he couldn't in good conscience allow himself to escape the severe penance to fall upon the German people.

Why should you read this book?

How many novels written by people who were consenting, mature
Germans during World War II do we have? That's why you should read it. Because there aren't any others! I'm nervous about that exclamation point. Maybe there's some obscure work somewhere, but is it in English? Published in the U.S.? I think not. I'm sure not.

IPad, Kindle, Nook or by Crook

An article in the April 26, 2010, The New Yorker has prompted me to write this post. (The magazine does not make it possible for me to provide a link to the article. However, if you visit The New Yorker website, you will find the article by Ken Auletta, "Publish or Perish."

If you've grown weary of hearing how e-book readers affect people's reading habits, then don't bother to scroll down any further. Return at this time tomorrow for thoughts concerning my discovery of the recently "rediscovered" German writer, Hans Fallada.

Okay. A Kindle was purchased for me as a Christmas gift, way back when they first appeared on the market. It didn't arrive until the next February, but that was okay, because I wanted it and waiting was what I had to endure to gain possession of it.

Okay. I like the Kindle, though the first generation is full of problems. After marathon sessions with Amazon techies, they sent me a new Kindle, and it has exactly the same battery problems my first one had. But, hey.

I thought I would like getting NYT bestseller-list hardcovers for $9.99. And I did for a wee bit. Then the economy went West and spending ten bucks for a book seemed ludicrous. I then proceeded to occasionally buy the Kindle equivalent of cheap mass market paperbacks, magazines sometimes, and one or two books a year. And I'm still stuck at that level of involvement.

Why stuck? I want an upgrade but much more. I want color. No more illegible graphics. And I'm sure I'll have to sit out several more generations before I'm satisfied.

In the meantime I'm locked in a swoon over bound books. Hardcovers and paperbacks with imaginative cover art AND high-quality paper. A tight binding is a must, too. I don't mind if they're library books, not a wit, though I still want to buy them, as my previous entries have demonstrated.

Where do you stand these days?

Friday Finds from the Best Bookstore

The Best Bookstore in my universe is Northshire in Manchester, Vermont. It has been my favorite bookshop for well over twenty years and is deserving of more praise than a mere blog can bestow. For one thing, it's huge, has two floors and a cafe, and is housed in a quaint late-Victorian building that was once a hotel. I love the way each room tumbles into the next--with books and book-related ephemera neatly stuffed into every nook and cranny. What's unique, though, is the selection. Books from the biggie publishers all the way down to the smallest of independents. Northshire has loads of backlist titles and the classics from every decade. Choosy bibliophiles become manic within its doors, and I do. Fortunately for the family pocketbook, Northshire is a bit longer than a two hours' drive.


On Wednesday, a beautiful spring day, Nancy and I ventured away from wilderness into the pastoral beauty of Vermont. I spent the most at the bookstore--no one was surprised. Here's the loot: Cold Earth a debut novel by Sarah Moss, published in the US by the independent Counterpoint Press in 2010, and in 2009 by Granta in the UK. It is extremely rare for me to insert a publisher's blurb but this one is compelling and is what inspired me:


A team of six archaeologists from the United States, England, and Scotland assembles at the beginning of the Arctic summer to unearth traces of the lost Viking settlements in Greenland. But as they sink into uneasy domesticity, there is news of an epidemic back home, and their communications with the outside world fall away. Facing a Greenland winter for which they are hopelessly ill-equipped, Nina, Ruth, Catriona, Jim, Ben, and Yianni write final letters home, knowing that their missives may never reach their loved ones. These letters make up the narrative of Cold Earth, with each section of the book composed of one character's first-person perspective in letter form. In this exceptional and haunting debut novel. Moss weaves a rich tapestry of personal narrative, history, love, grief, and naked survival. Cold Earth is both a heart-pounding thriller and a highly sophisticated novel of ideas.
The Times Literary Supplement loved it.


My next "Couldn't Put It Back on the Shelf" title: An Australian novel by Kate Morton, The Forgotten Garden, published in 2008.




And my final purchase was a Penguin Classic paperback, with a gorgeous cover, Anne Bronte's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I have never read it, though I've read all but one of Charlotte's, even the obscure ones. And of course I read Emily's. Who hasn't? It's time.

Books are Popping Up All Over

What a shock I had today when I went online to my library account. Four 2010 books on hold for me! Way too many. Why do they flood in all at once? I've got Eaarth by Bill McKibben waiting in my hometown library and Solar by Ian McEwan at Crandall Library in Glens Falls. I called Barbara, Susan's assistant, and let go of the new Elizabeth George novel. It maxes out at 550 pages plus, and there's no way I can get to it, considering it's in demand and the book in my hand is a dense 560 pages. I hated to see it slip through my fingers, but I'm relieved it will go to someone with time to read it. I'll catch up with it later.

I'll be doing a thorough blog entry on my current book, Every Man Dies Alone by Hans Fallada in a few days. It's a triumph of post-war German literature (published in 1947 in Germany, 2009 in the UK and US). I feel privileged to be reading it. More to come.

Early this morning I finished a book that did not measure up to my expectations. The Three Weissmans of Westport by Cathleen Schine, though it received an excellent review in the New York Times (How did this piece of mediocrity do it?), was plodding at best. Stereotyped characterizations, humor that often fell flat, a few light moments that didn't satiate my hunger the way Schine's The New Yorkers did. And Schine made her Westport, Connecticut, setting so dull!

Margaret Elphinstone--My First Scottish Author!

I've spent part of the day (and late yesterday) researching Scottish writers for the Scottish Literature Challenge (see yesterday's post), and I've happened upon an author and a book that I simply must read--The Gathering Night by Margaret Elphinstone.

I'll admit it's true that Elphinstone was born in Kent and is by birth and upbringing English. However, and this is a crucial point, she has spent her entire adult life in Scotland and is considered by many, if not most critics, to be a Scottish writer. Aside from that, I can't wait to read The Gathering Night! It's set in the wilderness of Mesolithic Scotland. This title is not available from any library in the upstate New York region (though her other titles are), so here's what I propose to do. The cover is so beautiful that I'm not tempted by the $9.99 Kindle price. I'm splurging on the paperback with my $25 Amazon gift certificate. Yes, it's a pricy paperback at $24.95, but there it is. I want this book in my hands and can't wait to read it.

I'll also confess I was pushed along by a photo of Elphinstone in a canoe (I'm sure they don't use the Native American term in Scotland) and she looked to be a woman I could absolutely relate to! She's a conservationist as well, and that made me feel a kinship immediately.

Modern Scottish Writers?

I investigated the Scottish Literature Challenge, initiated at Wuthering Expectations. I was mystified when I first heard about it at Rebecca Reads. Thank heavens, Katrina, the blogger of Pining for the West, who lives on the east coast of Scotland, directed me to Wuthering Expectations for more information.

Although the challenge requires a read published before 1914, I'm more interested in the work of 20th-century Scottish writers, and, perhaps most interested in Scottish novelists publishing after 1990. This gives me a quest to sink my teeth into. I suspect that I've assumed that many Scottish writers are "British" writers, and I will say, here and now, that...Please let me rephrase this mess. I would like to put forth a theory that modern writers (and, of course, those from earlier eras), who are native Scots have a sensibility or a unique identity or characteristics that are distinct from English writers. I would like to pursue this theme as my own Scottish Literature Challenge. Am I crazy or am I on to something? I will confess that my ancestors came from England, Ireland, and Scotland, in that order proportionally, which may be partially motivating me. In any case, I hope to learn much more than I know now. That should not be a difficult goal.

Ann Cleeves sets her novels in Scotland but is English. I read her Raven Black and, more than the mystery, I luxuriated in the Scottish setting--moody with the kind of rough weather I love.

Saturday Update to Friday Finds

Just wanted you to know that I revised my Friday Finds post to include a fascinating review link for each of the new books discussed. Last evening I was in a race to finish the FF post while cooking dinner and unfortunately the meatloaf won. Anyway, all's up to date now. Enjoy the surf!