A (Sort of) Book Review (#1)

I am reusing this one, because I think I am heading
into a migraine; therefore, I am skipping out on a
search for a new image. 

At some point in my blogging, I wrote a post that I intended to be an introduction to a series on my reading habit, and all my struggles maintaining it. That series petered out: the mediocre sequel turned into a crappy epilogue. Then I tried to combine my reading and writing goals by attempting to write book reviews. Like most of my projects, nothing came of it.

Maybe, until now?

This past week, over the course of three days, I consumed two works of fiction. Well, one novel, and an autobiographical graphic book. However, I believe the author of the latter would agree that her account contains fictional elements, placing it outside the realm of something like someone's published memoirs. And since I am trying to expand beyond my reading comfort zone (i.e., non-fiction), I will include it as fiction.

Both titles arose from those ever growing banned book lists sweeping the nation. The first is The Push by Ashley Audrain; the second, Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel. Having read them both, I see no reason to prevent teenagers from reading either work. Sure, I would be reluctant to use them as required reading in a high school setting. Neither reflect exceptional use of the English language. So there literary value would not trump their uncomfortable content. But I would not deny my daughters the opportunity to pick them off a school library shelf and surrender themselves to what lies within those pages.

While the content in both books contain controversial topics that would make even adults uneasy, their unflinching approach to child abuse, motherhood, repressed sexuality, trauma, and death, is delivered intelligently and creatively. None of it is pornographic. Even the sex scenes.

[Sorry, narrating that two people fucked and enjoyed it is not explicit; including illustrations of one woman's head between that of another, or a naked cadaver with its penis displayed, is not porn. Some people may not like to read such passages, or look at such images. Yet, neither come close to the experience of pornographic images and explicit texts. Trust me, teenagers are seeing much worse on their phones.]

For me, I am glad I read both books. While I figured out the ending to The Push within the first few chapters, Ashley Audrain's writing style, a combination of first and second person, and the characters themselves, kept me going. It did no read like trauma porn. Instead, I experienced the unfortunate lives of regular people struggling with their problems. And I witnessed three different types of motherhoods, none of them perfect. A few times, I even teared up a bit. It would be a book I could recommend to the people that I know. If they want a quick, depressing story. 

As for Fun Home (a play on "Funeral Home"), it is a book I cannot recommend as easily. Indeed, I can think of maybe two of my readers who would appreciate it. The content is depressing, and the discussion centers on the author's struggles with sexual repressions, not just in herself, but in another person. I learned a lot about how oppressive and destructive social norms can be on a person. But that is not why I would hesitate to promote this book within my social circle. While I consider myself an intelligent person, I am aware that many more people are smarter and better educated than I am. And this author is one of them. She uses a lot of literary and mythical references. There are plenty of quotes from Proust and Joyce, two authors who are way beyond my understanding. And the entire book draws on Icarus and his father in a way that I find confusing. Finally, it is all delivered in a structure that weighs down on you intellectually and emotional. It left me exhausted.

Perhaps that was the author's intention?  Drag me down just as her childhood has been a burden for her? Confuse me with the esoteric words and themes of literary giants as she was confused by her emotions and family dynamics? Leave me weary and drained, as her childhood left her?

In the end, I am grateful for experiencing both books, but I doubt I will ever return to them.

Take that observation however you see fit.         

As for me, I have two non-fiction books to read before Wednesday. One is about the joys of Algebra; the other about better ways of thinking.

Hey, that is how I roll.