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Tag Archives: non-fiction
CCCP@CCLaP
Posted in book reviews, books, CCLAP Fridays
Tagged architecture, book reviews, books, communism, culture, economics, maximalism, non-fiction, photography, politics, pop culture, science fiction, Soviet Union, Taschen, USSR
Robertson’s Book of Firsts: Who did what for the first time, by Patrick Robertson
The first coins, the first hamburger, the first military motor vehicle. These are but a sampling of Robertson’s Book of Firsts. Researched and compiled by Patrick Robertson as a culmination of a lifelong passion, the book aims to chronicle not invention, but innovation. This means a look at social and technological development and some surprising entries. Robertson approaches this collection of firsts from a unique position. A former government employee and a former chairman of the Ephemera Society, he also owns the largest private collection of vintage magazines in Britain. Firsts are ephemeral, since once a first is achieved, social and technological change will prompt more firsts to occur. Just look at the developments of the cell phone and the demographic make-up of the United States Supreme Court.
The alphabetically arranged articles vary in length. For example, the article on blood transfusion covers nearly two full pages. To break it down, there is the first blood transfusion done on June 12, 1667 by Jean-Baptiste Denys, the personal physician to Louis XIV, for “a boy of fifteen suffering from a severe fever.” The first U.S. blood transfusion took place in 1795 by Dr. Philip Physick. The first panel of blood donors occurred in 1921, being four volunteers “from the Camberwell Division of the London Branch of the British Red Cross Society.” The Red Cross established the first blood donor panel in the United States in August 1937 in Augusta, Georgia. In 1931 the first blood bank was established by Prof. Sergei Yudin “at the Sklifosovsky Institute, Moscow’s central emergency service hospital,” but Bernard Fantus “coined the term” in 1937 for Cook County Hospital’s centralized blood storage depot. Finally, the first pre-natal blood transfusion was performed by Prof. George Green and Sir William Liley in Auckland, New Zealand on September 20, 1963.
The Book of Firsts is chock-full of such information. The first antique automobile movement happened on July 12, 1925, celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Allgemeiner Schnaufer-Club (“Tin Lizzy Club”) in Munich, Germany. The year 1623 saw the first publication of a hymn book containing original matter by George Wither, although the first hymn book in a vernacular tongue was “published in Prague by Severin for the Hussites of Bohemia on 13 January 1501.” The first naval vessels to be equipped with radio-telephone apparatus were the USS Virginia and the USS Connecticut in 1907. The lists go on and on, from the first legal abortion to the first women’s track and field events.
Whether reading a single entry with all developments chronicled or searching for a specific “first,” The Book of Firsts will captivate and infuriate readers. Expect to have your pre-conceptions about certain “firsts” refuted. As with any book of this kind, it is subject to the winds of change. The entry on gay marriage has quickly become obsolete, the last sub-entry on U.S. gay marriage ending with the passage of Proposition 8. But that is hardly a demerit in terms of the sheer wealth of information and entertaining factoids one can harvest from this book, whether casually browsing the pages or capturing a “first” for research purposes. This is a good book to have on the bookshelf next to the dictionary, thesaurus, Schott’s Miscellany, and the Meaning of Tingo.
Posted in book reviews, books, cars, miscellaneous
Tagged book reviews, books, culture, economics, firsts, non-fiction, politics, pop culture
Introducing CCLaP Fridays
I’m proud to a new feature, CCLaP Fridays. I recently became involved as a writer for the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography. Every other Friday I will post on their website, alternating between general book reviews and themed reviews.
The general reviews will focus on fiction and non-fiction books published in the last 24 months. My themed reviews focus on the question, “What does it mean to be human?” I will be looking at attempts to answer that question through books, TV shows, movies, and role-playing games. Everything from Warhammer 40K’s Space Marines, Iain Banks’s Culture, Samuel Beckett’s Trilogy, and a Jim Thompson hard-boiled novel will be analyzed. (This will dovetail nicely into my more in-depth analyses of Warhammer 40K and Battlestar Galactica/Caprica on Coffee is for Closers.)
It will be a unique privilege to write for CCLaP, since I’ve been an avid reader of their reviews and essays for years.
As always, I will post notifications on this blog to let you know when my reviews and essays appear.
Posted in book reviews, CCLAP Fridays, film, The Internet, TV, Warhammer 40K
Tagged book reviews, books, culture, fantasy, fiction, film, non-fiction, pop culture, RPG, science fiction, series, TV, UK, UK fiction, warhammer 40K
An Interview with Marc Schuster
What inspired you to write The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom and Super Girl?
I was working on a paper in graduate school when I started reading a pair of books called The Steel Drug and Cocaine Changes. As the titles suggest, they were about cocaine, and they included case studies of people who had used and abused cocaine. Some of them were very compelling, but due to the nature of the books, the stories were also very fragmentary. With The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom and Party Girl I wanted to flesh out some of the details in a fictionalized forum, to try to come up with a more fully imagined version of the scraps I had read and started to piece together.
Tell us about your blog, Small Press Reviews, and the appeal of reviewing the works of small presses.
I started Small Press Reviews in November of 2007 after sitting in on a discussion of small presses at a local writers’ conference. One of the speakers was an author named Curtis Smith. I bought his book The Species Crown and loved it. Between his talk and the book, I was sold on small presses. Part of the appeal is that I feel like small press readers and writers share a strong sense of community. I had lunch with a small press author named Christian TeBordo a few weeks ago, and though we’d never really met before—aside from running into each other once or twice when we both taught at Temple University—we found that we shared a common language, so to speak, as we dropped names of small presses we really admire like Featherproof and Atticus Books, as well as small press books we both enjoyed like The Universe in Miniature in Miniature by Patrick Somerville. Being part of the small press scene is a little bit like belonging to an exclusive club, but one that’s—ironically, I guess—open to anyone who’s interested in joining. All you need to do is read a few books and join the conversation.
What’s the premise of Don DeLillo, Jean Baudrillard, and the Consumer Conundrum? What is the “Consumer Conundrum” and how is it reflected in the works of DeLillo, an American novelist, and Baudrillard, a French social theorist?
The book basically looks at the problem of consumerism in the western world. Early in his career, Jean Baudrillard wrote a book called The System of Objects in which he argued that humans have surrounded themselves with commodities which no longer serve any real purpose other than to signal status. This observation in itself is nothing new, but Baudrillard’s argument was that by surrounding ourselves with objects, we’ve taken on the status of objects ourselves—that our sense of self-worth is bound up in the constellations of objects we arrange around ourselves as signs of value. This is a bit of an oversimplification of his argument, but the conundrum I talk about in the book is that of figuring out how to overcome the inertia of commodification, how to stop being objects and, instead, become subjects, become human again. Baudrillard offered a lot of commentary on this predicament over the course of his career and eventually decided that it really couldn’t be done. Don DeLillo, on the other hand offers a more hopeful view of our species’ potential to regain its humanity—through art, though language, through doubting the logic of accumulation that surrounds us. It’s been a long time since I wrote that book. I’m a little fuzzy on the details.
Is there a link between capitalism’s need for gain (profits, acquisition, expansion, accumulation) and an addict’s need for increased dosages just “to maintain”? (“Wonder Mom” seemed to touch on this indirectly, albeit from the perspective of a Drug Morality Tale. Audrey’s inevitable crash late in the novel and the global economic cataclysm aren’t too dissimilar. Or am I reading too much into it?)
No, you’re not reading too much into at all! In fact, a part of me always hoped that readers would draw a similar parallel. Look at the publishing industry, for example. John B. Thompson wrote a book a couple of years ago called Merchants of Culture, and in it he talks about the publishing industry’s need to make 10% more money in any given year than they did in the previous year. That’s why you always see a glut of crappy, gimmicky books just before the holiday season. The publishers are gambling that people who don’t generally read might buy these books as gifts, that they’ll be good for a laugh or will look good on a shelf in someone’s house somewhere. Yet another reason, I suppose, to favor small presses over big conglomerates. The same thing, as you note, happens to Audrey as she continues to fall deeper and deeper into her addiction. She’s hollowing out her soul as she strives for that extra 10% that will help her keep her head above water, at least until she needs her next hit. I always had consumerism in mind when I was working on that book.
Between your novels, your blog, and your teaching, what’s your work schedule like? Do you ever feel like one area is being neglected while you tend to another?
Hah! Yes! All the time! I teach five courses with an average enrollment of about twenty students each. On any given weekend, I’m grading between forty and sixty papers. I love teaching, but that much grading really takes a toll. Needless to say, I don’t get much time for writing during the school year, but I do try to squeeze it in here and there. On one hand, I wish I had more time to write, but I also wouldn’t want to give up teaching. Not just because of the steady paycheck and benefits, but because I really feel like I come alive in front of a classroom—sharing ideas with students, helping them learn to express their ideas and participate in the wider dialogue not just of academia but of culture at large. Even so, I frequently wish I had more time to write. And blogging? I liken it to punk rock. When I’m working on a novel or an essay or a short story, I’m obsessing over craft and getting the content and form of the piece just right, like Brian Wilson taking months to record “Good Vibrations.” But with blogging, it’s more like the Ramones recording their first album in a day. Get it done, and get it out there. Share it with the world, warts and all.
What projects are you working on these days?
My second novel comes out in May. It’s called The Grievers. I should be getting galley copies this week, so I’ll be proofreading and making notes for any minor changes I want to make before it goes to print. Otherwise, I’m mainly gathering scraps in a notebook and hoping they eventually coalesce into something somewhere down the line.
Who are your favorite authors (novelists and/or academics)?
I like anyone who bridges the gap between “ivory tower” academic discourse and a more down to earth yet intelligent public discourse. There’s a lot in the news lately about the hollowing out of the middle class. I think there’s also been a gutting of the ability to have an intelligent conversation in the United States. At one end, there are academics who speak and write in impenetrable and, frankly, boring prose, and at the other end there’s the bombast and vitriol of the shouting heads on TV and radio, not to mention the histrionics of anyone involved in reality TV. It’s tough for regular people like you and me to have a thoughtful, intelligent, public conversation about the arts or culture or even politics anymore, but it is possible. Authors like Jonathan Lethem and Steve Almond do it in their nonfiction, and a lot of bloggers are doing it, too. Anyone who raises the bar on public discourse is okay in my book.
But if you’re looking for names, I love pretty much everything by Kurt Vonnegut. I was also on a George Saunders kick for a while, hot on the heels of a Chuck Palahniuk kick, a Neil Gaiman kick, and my perennial Philip K. Dick kick. Over the summer, I read Chistopher Moore’s Fool and told all of my friends to read it. More recently, I’ve been reading a lot of short stories. Robin Black’s If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This is amazing, and I really enjoyed Steve Almond’s God Bless America. I also liked Don DeLillo’s The Angel Esmerelda. If I’m not teaching or writing, I’m reading.
Posted in books, Interviews, Permanent Press
Tagged authors, books, capitalism, culture, drugs, economics, fiction, interviews, non-fiction, philosophy, politics, pop culture, publishing, small presses, war on drugs
Republic of Words: the Atlantic Monthly and Its Writers, 1857 – 1925, by Susan Goodman
The history of the Atlantic Monthly is also the history of America. Susan Goodman’s Republic of Words: the Atlantic Monthly and Its Writers, 1857 – 1925, traces the intellectual and editorial history of the magazine. Conceived by luminaries including Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., Harriet Beecher Stowe, Ralph Waldo Emerson, John Greenleaf Whittier, and James Russell Lowell, the Atlantic began with an adamant pro-Union perspective. Lowell, the first editor, brought together numerous contributors associated with the Abolition and Transcendentalist movements.
Goodman excels at bringing American history to life, charting the course of the magazine and the nation through the Civil War, Reconstruction, the Gilded Age, and the First World War. Throughout the book a cavalcade of the famous passes before the reader. These include novelists, humorists, poets, environmentalists, journalists, and philosophers. With biographies of Edith Wharton (an Atlantic contributor) and William Dean Howells (an Atlantic editor), Goodman has a firm grasp on her subject matter. The history of America proceeds either in lock step or in counterpoint with the history of the Atlantic Monthly. The magazine undergoes periodic transformations with each successive editor. As an example, Howells slowly changed the perspective of the Atlantic from a more East Coast, Boston-area, Harvard-educated milieu to one that looked westward.
The book ends in the Roaring Twenties, the Atlantic battered but enduring in its commitment to act as a purveyor of culture. Two insurgent forces threatened its mission of mass appeal, the Crisis, the militant African-American magazine helmed by W.E.B. du Bois and the elitist New Yorker.
A final note, Republic of Words sports a playful cover by the artist Jonathan Wolstenholme. Wolstenholme’s book-centric illustrations, like Republic of Words, will delight anyone with a passion for literature and American history.
Posted in book reviews, books, nature
Tagged America, book reviews, books, culture, economics, fiction, journalism, non-fiction, pop culture, US history
Drive Me Out of My Mind, by Chad Faries
These days memoirs are a dime a dozen, glutting the market with tales of the self-absorbed. Fortunately, Chad Faries stands out in this crowded field with his unique tale of childhood in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Drive Me Out of My Mind: 24 Houses in 10 Years, a Memoir, follows Chad’s childhood from roughly 1971 to 1980. Chad’s singularly strange upbringing and poetic sensibility create a memoir unlike any other. Most memoirs focus on bourgeois nuclear families and the travails of growing up middle-class in the suburbs. In childhood, Chad discerned the differences of his family and “families on TV.”
Chad’s non-traditional family includes his mother, his aunts, and his grandmother. On occasions, he encounters the Man-Worth-Mentioning, a father figure who isn’t a danger to him or his mother.
In abandoned mining towns in the UP, Texas trailer parks, and a central Wisconsin university town, Chad witnesses a cavalcade of father figures. Throughout his memoir, we see his relationship with his mother grow stronger and stronger, despite her many failings and weaknesses. Throughout the tale, the mood is both childishly naïve and culturally postapocalyptic. His transformation from child of the post-Sixties lumpenproletariat to university professor makes him, in the words of the late Hunter S. Thompson, like “a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger.”
Because Chad is a poet, he creates a memoir that is both feral and visionary. Other critics have compared him to David Sedaris (and like Sedaris, Chad is indeed funny), but his kaleidoscopic vision comes closer to that of reclusive visionary artist Henry Darger and the early years of Iggy Pop. Scenes of graphic violence combine with passages of strong maternal love and a boy trying to find his place in the world. In order to make sense of the chaos, the drugs, and the poverty, he seeks comfort in a Barbie doll and his homemade Green Lantern ring.
The Green Lantern ring becomes a talisman. During the tough times, Chad, like his hero, uses his ring and his imagination to make things materialize to solve whatever problem faces him and the ones he loves. Each chapter ends with the words, “And then we moved.” In a life of wild events and constant movement, it provides a kind of refrain, contextualizing the events.
The memoir ends with a transcribed interview between Chad and his relatives in 1981 – 1982. In the chapter, he is getting a tattoo from his aunt while he talks with his mother about her life experiences. The chapter comments upon everything that came before as it calls into question what was true and what was misremembered. Like tattooing, the memoir is a process, with words and memories creating a compelling narrative whereas a tattoo artist creates art from ink on skin. Drive Me Out of My Mind is a visionary memoir of love and art and passion and scars, an indelible life where the raw materials of abandoned mines, a Marvel superhero, and controlled substances create a visionary artwork.
Posted in book reviews, books
Tagged book reviews, books, family, fantasy, Green Lantern, hippies, Marvel, memoir, michigan, nomad, non-fiction, poetry, pop culture, upper michigan, visionary, Yooper
Hav by Jan Morris
Hav by the Welsh travel writer Jan Morris is a very Borgesian work, bringing to mind the Argentinean writer’s love for mirrors and labyrinths. There is even a character named Dr. Borge and Hav’s major cultural motif is the labyrinth. Morris achieves distinction in creating a place that goes beyond being a second-rate pastiche of Borges themes. Unfortunately, the field of science fiction is riddled with examples of good ideas soured when executed. Poor execution usually involves sloppy writing where the author received payment by the word.
New York Review Books has released a stellar volume with Jan Morris’s Hav. The book compiles her two works of science fiction, Last Letters from Hav (1985) and Hav of the Myrmidons (2006). The volume also includes an introduction by science fiction writer Ursula K. Le Guin and an epilogue by the author. In the introduction Le Guin notes how readers began booking trips to Hav, not knowing it was fiction. After reading Morris’s Destinations: Essays from Rolling Stone, one can understand the reader’s oversight of Hav’s non-existence. Her travel essays for Rolling Stone, written in the 1970s, envelop the reader with a keenly constructed sense of place, quirky characters, and a narrative drive, though not necessarily plot-based. This non-fiction writing is reflected in her fiction, creating a plausible locale. Hav, a tiny Mediterranean peninsula off of Anatolia, possesses a culture frozen in amber, isolated from the world at large, but also an amalgamation of Eastern and Western cultures reflective of the wars, conquests, and commerce that passed through the area.
Last Letters sees Hav as a sleepy community with an outdated bureaucracy, an ambiguous British colonial political presence, and a multicultural kaleidoscope. On the Escarpment reside the primitive Kretevs. Arabs, Greeks, and Chinese reside in their own ethnic enclaves. Hav has the westernmost settlement of Chinese, owing to the proximity of the Silk Road. The Venetian and Russian empires made their marks in art and architecture. A muezzin cries along with Missakian’s trumpet call, a remnant of the Crusader’s retreat. The back cover summary describes Hav as having “chaotic and contradictory splendor.”
One should note that this is not alternate history. Hav’s fate follows the ebb and tide of history, albeit from the perspective of a geographic asterisk. A humorous passage in Last Letters involves the local intellectual circle hating Ferdinand Braudel because he never mentioned Hav in his monumental survey The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II. Le Guin states in the introduction,
Probably Morris, certainly her publisher, will not thank me for saying Hav is in fact science fiction, of a perfectly recognizable type and superb quality. The “sciences” or areas of expertise involved are social – ethnology, sociology, political science, and above all, history.
Morris’s writing is what makes Hav such a treasure to read. Described as a “romantic traditionalist Welsh author,” she approaches travel at a different speed and pitch than Anthony Bourdain. Morris’s character of Jan Morris is indistinguishable from her presence in her non-fiction travel essays. She seems like a nice middle-aged lady who, despite all evidence to the contrary, sees the best in people and has the bad habit of asking awkward questions to stage-managed power brokers. Not conservative in the vulgar faux populist mutation common to the United States, but one whose conservatism cherishes the artifacts and lessons of the past and seeks to preserve them for future generations.
Morris’s “traditionalist” leaning comes to the fore in the sequel, Hav of the Myrmidons. Morris returns to Hav twenty years later to find a series of unsettling changes. Following the Intervention, Hav is now a theocracy run by the Cathars, a Christian heresy long thought extinct. The Holy Myrmidonic Republic of Hav exists both as a Catharist theocracy and as an emerging capitalist power. A new airport, highway, and resort hotel – the Lanzaretto! tower – have been carved out of the rubble. One thinks of Dubai and China’s emergent industrial hubs, whereas Old Hav bespoke of Danzig or Trieste, political “free cities” with their own syncretic cultures.
A chilling episode occurs when Jan is invited to a meeting at the ominously named Office of Ideology. She meets Hav’s political deputies. “They reminded me of the ideologues of apartheid who, long before, had greeted me with similar earnest solemnity at Stellenbosch in South Africa.” Nothing is more stultifying and possibly unintentionally comical than the long-winded prattling of a totalitarian state’s cog, all ideological purity and true believer crazy eyes. In Destinations (1980), she summarized the ideology of apartheid as “the intricate political device – part mysticism, part economics, part confidence trick – by which the white race maintains its supremacy over the blacks.” With its omnipresent icon of Achilles’s helmet, Hav expresses that same combination. The Greek community on San Spiridon, an outlying island, has become reborn, albeit with a troubling fanaticism.
This new iteration of Hav reflects the Post-911 world in its admixture of aggressive free market capitalism and political authoritarianism. One need only look at China (and the countless Chinese products we all buy without a second thought) or the political autarkies of Silvio Berlusconi and Vladimir Putin. The United States has catered to the whims of dictators, so long as the bananas were cheap and the despot made the appropriate anti-communist slogans. Morris reverses Marx’s quote by showing the old Hav as a farce and New Hav as tragedy. Hav is on the make, aspiring to rekindle its Venetian or Arabic drive to link itself again to a global marketplace. Morris wonders at the human and cultural costs of those aspirations. Is the material gain accrued from integrating with globalization really worth it, especially if all one caters to are incurious tourists blathering on about a place’s safety and comfort? Travel without risk, at least the risk of random discovery, is a pointless endeavor. Reading Hav is not.
Posted in book reviews, books
Tagged asia, book reviews, books, borges, capitalism, chaos, communism, culture, economics, europe, fiction, hav, history, mediterranean, non-fiction, nyrb, politics, pop culture, religion, science fiction, turkey
Fasting for Ramadan: Notes from a Spiritual Practice, by Kazim Ali
Food is one of the essential requirements for existence. One cannot go about one’s daily business without caloric intake. However, beyond the needs food fulfils, one takes pleasure in eating. That is why people read restaurant reviews or watch No Reservations. Food also represents a mirror of a specific place, culture, and personality. Why a book entitled Fasting for Ramadan has recipes in the back also requires explanation.
Fasting for Ramadan: Notes from a Spiritual Practice by Kazim Ali is a stunning literary jewel. An extended meditation on the Muslim practice of fasting during the month of Ramadan has appeal for the practicing faithful, those curious about the Muslim religion, and to those with or without faith. Faith is not a requirement for the enjoyment of this book. In fact, one of Kazim Ali’s frequent refrains is, “I’m not sure what I believe.” This is less an example of alleged agnostic fence sitting (a caricature lobbed by zealous theists and atheists alike), but a cri de coeur against the tyranny of dogmatism and certainty. But before we place Ali within the spectrum of Muslim theology, it is important to elucidate what Ramadan is and isn’t.
Ramadan is one of the Five Pillars of Islam. These pillars (Arkan) are as follows:
1. Shahada (The profession of faith): There is only one God and Muhammad is his messenger.
2. Salat (prayer): Traditionally, the five prayers recited at specific times during the day.
3. Sawm (fasting): The obligatory time of fasting during the month of Ramadan.
4. Zakat (alms-giving): The act of giving to those in need by those who are financially capable.
5. Hajj (Pilgrimage): A Muslim must visit Mecca and perform a specific battery of rituals.
Ramadan is not a hunger strike or torturous asceticism. Ramadan involves the withholding of food from dawn until sunset. Since the Muslim calendar is lunar (like the Jewish calendar), Ramadan is measured in terms of the moon’s waxing and waning. In his journal, Ali tells how his first Ramadan fast with his mother was during the month of July. July’s long days made for an arduous experience. But the fasting isn’t without celebration, since Ali discusses his fast-breaking meals with fellow students. Even with the fasting, there is still food and joy.
Kazim Ali is unique in relation to other devout Muslims in that he practices the Ramadan fast, but not the daily prayers. In the book, he also explains how he practices yoga and is a vegetarian. (While Muslims are forbidden from eating pork, they can eat other meats.) For Ali, the vegetarianism and yoga make sense, since he was born in India, a nation with a massive Muslim population. Ali is also a self-described Shi’a Muslim, the minority sect that has sizable populations in Iraq and Iran. Ali works as a creative writing teacher at Oberlin University. Ali is also gay.
Fasting for Ramadan is comprised of two main sections. The first “New Moon in the Western Sky: Ramadan Essays” are free-associative essays first written for an Oberlin University blog. Ali discusses his thoughts on Ramadan, dinner gatherings, and matters literary and personal. The former blog entries give the essays a semi-public feel, not necessarily confessional, but definitely for public consumption. (The essays pique this reviewer’s interest in seeing what the comments board revealed, since blog posts can act as one half of a public dialogue.) The second section is called “Absence of Stars: A Fasting Notebook.” Written years earlier, this is Ali’s personal journal during the Ramadan month. The tone is more confessional, the feelings more naked, and the impressions more immediate. In both sections, Ali’s calling as a poet are revealed.
Islam, like Christianity and Judaism, is a religion of the word. Ramadan celebrates the Prophet Muhammad’s injunction from God (Allah, al-Ilah, literally “The God”) to write the Quran. Ali writes:
It’s a sacred month, regardless of fasting, because it is said to be the month in which the revelation of the Quran began.
When Gabriel came to the prophet in cave and said, “Read. Read in the name of the One who created you, made you from a clot of blood.”
And what night of the month was that? Complicated question.
Supposedly: An odd-numbered night in the third week of the month. Cryptic.
(NB: Spacing and paragraph spacing in original text.)
Ali’s writing wavers from the ruminative to the epigrammatic, the text a dancer making split-second turns and unexpected reversals. The hunger for food becomes the engine of his writing, propelling him forward and inward. The inwardness yields to questions about his faith, his world, and his writing. The inwardness remains even as the prolonged nature of the fast allows his gnawing hunger to fade away like so much fog on his morning runs.
Amidst the meditations, epigrams fly out and beckon second looks: “Fasting is first to abstain and then to embrace emptiness. Then to give emptiness back.” (How can one not think of Beckett?) “But since I am not sure what the nature of god is (or God if you prefer, or G-D, or whatever) I don’t know how to speak.” (Shades of the Daoist; serenity in uncertainty.) “Eden is over, if ever Eden was real.”
The reviewer hopes to gain further pleasure from the text with the recipes in the back. The emptiness of Kazim Ali’s experience gives back again, this time with the sensations of the tongue and the nose, the eye having been sated on the words. This is literature to be savored by a writer that bucks the usual stereotype our culture has given the faithful Muslim. On a rudimentary level, Fasting for Ramadan gives the reader an understanding of the physical and spiritual efforts involved in this month-long practice. On another level, the book gives a double portrait (one public, another private) of an individual’s attempt to understand himself and his world.
Posted in book reviews, books, food, nature, The Internet
Tagged book reviews, books, creative writing, culture, economics, faith, food, India, Islam, journal, LGBT, non-fiction, Oberlin, philosophy, poetry, politics, pop culture, Ramadan, religion, Shiite
The Long Night: William L. Shirer and the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, by Steve Wick
“There are reminders to all Americans that they need to watch what they say, watch what they do, and this is not a time for remarks like that; there never is.” – Ari Fleischer, White House Press Secretary, September 26, 2001.
During a cold December day, William L. Shirer, foreign correspondent for CBS, hurries to Berlin’s Tempelhof airport. He wants to catch a plane to take him out of Germany and on to Spain, from Spain eventually to New York City and the safety and security of the United States. Steve Wick’s The Long Night: William L. Shirer and the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich opens like a taut political thriller. Like Shirer, Wick is a journalist writing history. This gives the book immediacy with a palpable “you are there” quality.
Shirer grew up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, listening to radio broadcasts of the Great War, his fingers following the routes of the armies on the maps shown in the newspapers. When he graduated from the local Coe College, he set his eyes on Europe. Shirer thought himself destined for greatness and his ambitious proved unflagging throughout his journalistic career. In that career, he went on to work for the Chicago Tribune and CBS. His years in Europe began with hanging around other literary members of the Lost Generation, including Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein, eventually gaining a lowly position in the Tribune’s Paris office. He worked his way up and then, without warning or cause, got fired. Through happenstance following a year in Spain, Shirer met Edward R. Murrow and worked alongside him at CBS. Following his career as a journalist, Shirer, beset by tough financial times, set out to write The Big Book, what we know today as The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.
The Long Night spends very little time on the actual writing of that large book. (Relegated to a few pages in an Epilogue.) Instead, the book focuses on Shirer’s years as a foreign correspondent living in Berlin. Once Hitler’s Nazi Party consolidates its power, Shirer faced the challenge of balancing accurate reporting from a totalitarian state and not getting expelled. The balancing act involved dealing with the censors at the Propaganda Ministry. Once the Second World War started, he had to deal with three censors (from the Propaganda Ministry, Foreign Office, and Military). Shirer’s continuous quest to report the truth made him a high-profile target for the Nazis. He saw colleagues expelled and sources vanish. While his commitment to journalistic integrity created a situation where he could get expelled at the merest criticism of Nazi lies and distortion, he felt obligated to perform the balancing act because the United State and the world needed to hear about Nazi atrocities.
Shirer himself proves a rich source of information. An eyewitness to history, he wrote personal diaries from a very early age. Coupled with the Big Book and his later memoirs, we get a variety of perspectives on this momentous time in history. Wick used Shirer’s diaries to reconstruct his life and times. This gives Long Night a clarity and immediacy associated with thrillers and unfazed by the murky nostalgia that sometimes infects popular history books. The Long Night is a short volume for those interested in the daily struggles of a journalist in a hostile state and a doorway to unlocking the interpretations forwarded in The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.
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