Book Review: "The Children's Hospital"

"The Children's Hospital." A novel by Chis Adrian. McSweeney's 2006. $24. 615 pages.

More than at any other point in my life, it seems that people have been fighting and dying over some of the contents of their various major religious texts. This potentially makes using any of these texts as a source for literary inspiration a tricky proposition: will the author be branded evangelical and pushed to the fringe of niche publications? Might he be seen as taking a hard-line position in the currently boiling clash of civilizations? In his leviathan second novel "The Children’s Hospital," Chris Adrian dares to draw from the Bible in this time of highly politicized religion and comes away with a single story of persistence and humanity that triumphs beyond the trappings of self-righteous moralizing and preachiness that could so easily have marred it.

On the Earth of "The Children’s Hospitial," “the end of the world” does not really mean the total end. The apocalypse is one of the first things to happen in the novel, and where some writers might see global catastrophe as a difficult piece of exposition to top, Adrian hardly gives it a glance as it is happening. Within the never-named pediatric hospital that serves as the Ark for the characters, the Second Great Flood of Earth causes rumblings that could just as easily have been described as an earthquake or a blast from an explosion, except that they have the distinct impression that they are being lifted. By forcing his characters to note that the end has come but press on and continue with all of the work that they were doing before, Adrian forces himself to do the same as a writer. At the end of the world, the only thing left appears to be a children’s hospital floating atop seven miles of new ocean: you know that just from reading the back cover, Adrian concedes, so what next?

In his work to answer the thorny question of “what next,” Adrian tells us a kind of long fable, almost a sort of fairy tale, a story-behind-the-story that regards the end of the world exclusively in terms of the life of Dr. Jemma Claflin as the thread to which The End is tied and born. Six-hundred and fifteen pages of this rather whiny, almost unbelievably self-absorbed protagonist should by all rights become grating, but the considerable unpredictability of the plot keeps things moving fast enough that it’s easy to be distracted from whether or not Jemma Claflin is someone you’d ever want to know. In some ways, Jemma is one of the realest and most “normal” protagonists I’ve ever encountered, and this coupled with the sheer volume of things we learn throughout the novel about her rather abnormal life give her a strangely omnipotent humanity. The hospital holds 1,138 other inhabitants, many of whom play nearly as large a part as Jemma and who Adrian lends rich and distinctive voices. The author creates the necessary element of caring about the characters, and thus, the events that transpire among them.

I was 400 pages into the novel before I really noticed that it had taken a hold on me, and that I had some emotional stake in its conclusion. Some events can indeed come across as superfluous, tacked-on affairs that needlessly stretch the novel a couple of hundred pages beyond what seems necessary, though ultimately the author decides what is necessary for his purposes as a storyteller. I cannot deny that the book was easy to read in bursts of 100 or 200 pages because the weight of the plight of the characters—to survive for the sake of it in a new world that all along, they know, may hold no hope for them anyhow—is richly portrayed as the weight of our own lives as inhabitants of this not-yet flooded planet. The prose itself sometimes lack vibrancy, and there are more typos than are really acceptable in a widely-distributed professional publication, but these faults fail to detract significantly from the power of the mysterious, clearly constructed and executed plot.

It is unclear to what extent "The Children’s Hospital" might be a commentary on any of the events or particular components of our contemporary cultural world. With such fallible characters, though, Adrian avoids what would ultimately be the banal mistake of telling us so bluntly how we should live our lives. What is clear is that "The Children’s Hospital" has left me with the feeling that I have seen a rich and fulfilling picture of one unconventional view of the end of all things and beyond, and that through this picture I might come to love everything unpredictable and appreciate everything terrible in life and hold on even tighter to hope where it sometimes seems there is none.

-Reviewed by: Jace Bartet

Book Review: "Es Cuba: Life and Love on an Illegal Island"

"Es Cuba: Life and Love on an Illegal Island." A travel memoir by Lea Aschkenas. Seal Press 2006. $15.95. 342 pages.

Americans, meet Cuba.

If you’re like me, you probably don’t know all that much about the mysterious and often forbidden (American travel to Cuba is limited by the U.S. Treasury Department) Caribbean island just ninety miles south of our own nation’s borders.

That’s where Lea Aschkenas comes in. At the height of the Elián González ordeal, a time when the little Cuban boy’s face was all over American news and rallies in his name filled the streets of Havana, she ventured to the island nation to take a Spanish course and ended up spending nearly ten months there, split between two trips, and falling in love with both a country and a man. Her adventures became the captivating book "Es Cuba: Life and Love on an Illegal Island," allowing all who read it a thorough and enchanting glimpse into an otherwise cryptic culture.

Aschkenas’ book offers everything: depth and insight, plenty of factual information, strong writing, and a personal tale of love and discovery. Not just a book about a country, "Es Cuba" follows Aschkenas as she meets a Cuban man, Alfredo, falls in love with him, and struggles through the complications that arise when you’re involved with somebody from a completely different culture, especially when the two countries in question are the United States and Cuba. Her tale takes place in Havana, where she participates in a Spanish-language program, and elsewhere throughout Cuba as she and Alfredo travel around the island. This story serves as the backbone of her memoir, which is written as a travel narrative or a journal, but Aschkenas doesn’t shirk her responsibilities as a travel writer to make another culture come alive to her readers, blending these notes about her personal life with information about the country and people.

The title of her memoir, "Es Cuba"—“That’s Cuba”—stems from the oft-muttered expression Alfredo uses to shrug off the idiosyncrasies of his country, and there are many. Aschkenas shares them with us, providing fascinating insight into the country’s culture, history, economics, and politics, painting a vivid picture of Cuban life with a series of dancing, interwoven narratives. Seamlessly, she jumps around a bit, going off on tangents before returning to the more chronological story at hand, mentioning this anecdote or that encounter in a stream-of-consciousness-like flow that is actually easy to follow and appreciated in that the extra details enrich her story and our understanding of the culture.

And there’s so much to understand about this country whose character, she finds, is the “odd, seemingly contradictory mix of melancholy and optimism.” Drawing from her own observations and experiences, as well as from tales and accounts shared with her by locals—Alfredo is an especially rich source of insight into the life of a Cuban—Aschkenas tells of the lack of violence and machismo in Cuba, the free education and health care, the interest in learning. She talks about the odd economic system using both dollars (for tourists and wealthy Cubans) and pesos (for the average, poor resident), the fact that the country is continuously low on supplies because of the U.S. embargo, and the candidness and criticalness with which Cubans speak of their government. Then there’s the salsa dancing, the endless nightlife, and the frustration among locals over the fact that tourists have more rights than they do.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, just a sampling of the wealth of information she shares about a country that’s very foreign to most Americans. Even just a few pages in, I found myself reading with my eyes wide, amazed by all that I was learning about the fascinating culture that I’d never known much about, and the story is kept lively and entertaining by Aschkenas’ clear, easy-to-read writing style, the ongoing narrative of her relationship with Alfredo, and the fact that she doesn’t simply compile a list of observations. She wants to know why things are the way they are, and seeks to find answers as well as to carefully draw her own conclusions.

The result is a memorable, informative, captivating book about romance blossoming under unlikely circumstances and the resilience and optimism of the Cuban spirit. No longer will Cuba be a mystery after reading Aschkenas’ tale, a land known to Americans for its leader and the fleeing citizens scooped from the waters between Cuba and Florida. With clear writing and a knack for drawing out the essence of a people, Aschkenas introduces us to this new culture that she herself fell in love with.

-Reviewed by: Stephanie Crozier

Book Review: "Everyone Worth Knowing"

"Everyone Worth Knowing." A chick-lit novel by Lauren Weisberger. Simon and Schuster 2005. $23.95. 367 pages.

The author of the chic, clever and best-selling novel “The Devil Wears Prada” tries her hand at romantic chick lit.

It’s a good idea in theory, but in “Everyone Worth Knowing” author Lauren Weisberger loses the naughty witticisms and trades them for overdone clichés and stereotypes romance novels are notorious for.

“Everyone Worth Knowing” starts off with a similar storyline to “Devil.” The smart and cynical 20-something in Manhattan is fed up with her current socioeconomic situation and lands a savvy job that a million girls would die for.

Weisberger’s heroine, Bette, a converted hippie who is tired of working a mundane job as an investment banker, solicits her semi-famous uncle, Will, who fills in the spot of the very gay fairy god father, helping Bette to make all her dreams come true in 367 pages. He hooks Bette up with the hottest public relations agency in town, with a boss much kinder than the infamous witch Miranda Priestly (from “Devil”).

Yet, Andy’s, I mean Bette’s office is still filled with the snarky wannabe socialites Weisberger pigeonholed in her first novel. The anorexic, wish-they-were-Paris-Hilton-hopefuls and party boys donning Armani t-shirts paired with Black American Express cards promote celebrities by day and party with by night. This coked-out, hungry crew was much funnier in Weisberger’s first novel.

Of course, Bette is sucked into their cool club scene Madison Avenue is infamous for and, like in “Devil”, the reader sees the sweet and slightly cynical heroine transform into another toned, hi-lighted, Seven Jeans clad member of NYC’s up-in-coming upper crust.

But at least Andy had an air of indifference paired with cynicism that she kept in the sole of her Manolos. Bette does not, however. Maybe Weisberger was trying to keep it light and play it safe, but I miss the amusing adroitness she wrote with for “Devil.”

The plot seems to drag in places, but I kept reading just to see who was going to pass out on a banquette next or who would sleep with whom.

Romance novels aren’t without their fill of attractive men, witches to defeat and friends to save from their own hapless relationships.

Bette’s true social worth skyrockets when she shacks up with a British heart throb, much beloved for his hot body and party habits. Following directions from her boss, to be a true PR girl she must savor the publicity her new semi-romance has earned her and ride the wave of Page Six.

Lust, potential love and hot sex were items missing in “Devil” and I like the suspense that comes when Bette begins to fall for a bouncer who caters to her party crew. Their scenes together are playful and occasionally scintillating. I found myself turning pages anxiously with scenes involving Bette and her man candy.

With all of Bette’s new changes, there’s always someone watching – in her case, her family, former friends and the whole of Manhattan. Bette somehow manages to get on the bad side of a gossip columnist. It’s pretty easy to figure out who it is early, too.

The predictability of “Everyone Worth Knowing” is disappointing, especially from such a creative writer like Weisberger. I hope the dark humor in “Devil” somehow finds its way back into the spot light for her next book.

-Reviewed by: Lauren Morgan

Book Review: "On the Way to the Wedding"

"On the Way to the Wedding." A romance novel by Julia Quinn. Avon 2006. $7.99. 384 pages.

Julia Quinn’s “On the Way to the Wedding” makes you forget the trifles of your life and leads you into Quinn’s romantic world.

Quinn’s writing has earned a reputation for warmth and humor, and her dialogue is considered among the best in the industry. She has been profiled in TIME Magazine (a rarity among romance writers) and has even competed on the game show “The Weakest Link.”

Some people believe in true love, but other people don’t. The hero of the novel, Gregory Bridegerton, believes in true love and is convinced that when he finds the woman of his dreams, he will know in an instant that she is the one. When he meets Hermione Watson for the first time, Quinn writes: “He knew that she was the one. He stood frozen, transfixed. The air didn’t rush form his body; rather, it seemed to slowly escape until there was nothing left, and he just stood there, hollow, and aching for more.” However, Hermione does not have the same feeling as Gregory.

Hermione’s best friend and the novel’s heroine, Lucy Lucinda, is engaged, but she does not know what true love is. She will marry her fiancé not because of love but because of the wishes of her uncle. She believes Gregory is a good man and is worthy of her best friend’s favor. So, she helps Gregory to win Hermione’s heart. However, because of an accident, Hermione married Lucy’s brother. Shortly thereafter, Lucy and Gregory shared an unexpected kiss and Lucy realized she had fallen in love with him. “She was in love with him. She was in love with Gregory Bridgerton. The realization couldn’t have been more clear….”

The story begins with an unnamed man trying to stop a wedding. Finally, when he arrives at the church and asks the bride not to marry the other man, the story suddenly stopped. Who is the bride? Especially, when you read the first half of the story, you may think the bride is Hermione. The uncertainty is the wonderful part of the story. It is definitely a love story, but with some mystery. Because of that, I can’t wait to finish reading it.

"On the Way to the Wedding" is the eighth and final book in the Bridgerton series. Quinn’s series portrays how the eight children of the Bridgerton family followed their mother’s advice to believe in true love, and the process of finding their destined partners. Family life dominates every one of Quinn’s books. Although the children of the Bridgerton family always quarreled with their siblings, when one of them had problems, other family members didn’t hesitate to help them. The depictions of the family love in the Quinn’s books are moving and real. Quinn seems to tell readers that she cannot only write touching love stories but also make readers feel warmth through her pen.

"On the Way to the Wedding" is a superb entry in which Julia Quinn mocks her previous Regency romances with an agreeable twist on love at first sight. Quinn’s subtle style of writing brings you a new experience of the romantic novel.

-Reviewed by: Jui-Chen Liao

Book Review: "Fireworks"

"Fireworks." A novel by Elizabeth Hartley Winthrop. Knopf 2006. $23.95. 304 pages.

Elizabeth Hartley Winthrop shows a lot of promise with her first novel “Fireworks.” Her principal character Hollis Claxton, a complicated New England writer, springs to life through vivid description.

Winthrop wastes no time revealing the complexities of Hollis, depicting him as a sensitive adulterer in the book’s opening chapter. Hollis’ development is achieved through his bizarre and interesting relationships with other characters.

Hollis’ mother abandoned him and his father to live in a commune when Hollis was young and Hollis’ son was hit and killed by a car a couple years before the story begins. These and other events have left their mark on his Hollis’ personality.

Shifts in time play a crucial role in the narrative as well. Hollis has a tendency to daydream about objects he sees or finds in the attic. He daydreams about his marriage and his childhood, particularly on noticing photographs. This adds tremendous effect to the narrative.

Hollis also gives us lots of memories of his wife Claire, who leaves to stay with her sister for the summer. Hollis makes it painfully clear that he cares for his wife, and the reader is left to wonder through most of the book whether or not she will actually return. This bizarre waiting period for Hollis is the primary plot of the novel.

There are several other colorful characters in the novel.

We have Hollis’ neighbor Sal who meets and talks with Hollis from over his hedges. Their relationship is similar to that of Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor and Wilson in Home Improvement, until their relationship progresses and they start playing video games together.

One of Hollis’ younger neighbors is also particularly interesting. Hollis observes his neighbors’ children to take notes for his writing. He later discovers that one of these children, Harry Crane, has been taking notes on him because he wants to grow up to be a detective.

Hollis develops some peculiarities while his wife is away. Outside of video games, observing children, and eating burritos every night, it’s worth noting that Hollis is prone to drinking.

At any point in the novel he’s capable of passing out and waking up in a lawn chair or in his car. Chapter six begins, “I wake to the sound of tapping. I sit up suddenly, startled and disoriented, and find myself in the car. I am sweaty and sore; I have spilled my flask of Jack, it seems, or else finished it off; it is empty and open on my lap.” I can tell you with certainty that Hollis finished the Jack. In this instance, a police officer wakes him up to tell him to move his car at three in the afternoon.

For the most part, the relationships Hollis has with novel’s different characters add to the strength of the book. However, there is one relationship that doesn’t feel authentic to me.

Hollis always hangs out at an old bar called Pratty’s. The bartender, Crosby, is similar to Sam Malone from Cheers. But the old man that hangs around the bar, Larry, is confusing.

Larry seems to love Hollis as a son, and Hollis’ internal dialogue suggests that he cares considerably about Larry. Winthrop is ineffective at giving reasons for why they’re friends. This relationship is unnatural and warrants more explanation.

Some of the blame could be attributed to this being her first novel and also her first with a male main character, but men don’t go around bonding with each other without reason.

Generally, Winthrop’s male voice is not a problem. Since Hollis is a northern writer, Winthrop is able to relate to him considerably since she was raised in New York City. Outside of the relationship with Larry, there is one other major problem with Hollis’ voice. Hollis uses the word “shit” too much when he thinks. “Shit” becomes a tool for masculinizing his character. In general, however, Hollis still remains a strong and believable character.

Despite some problems with Hollis’ voice, “Fireworks” is an enjoyable read. Even though it comes across that Hollis is strange, I was still inclined to like and relate to his character. For Winthrop, who is clearly talented, this is an overall successful first novel.

Reviewed by: Gregory Sullivan

Book Review: "Water for Elephants"

"Water for Elephants." A novel by Sarah Gruen. Algonquin 2006. $23.95. 355 pages.

Final exams your final semester in college. The room is quiet except for a clock reminding you the seconds are dwindling. To your left and right, your classmates hunch over, busily scratching away with their pencils. A bead of sweat makes a trail from your brow, down your nose and plops onto your blank paper. You get up and dart out of the room, escaping into freedom.

This scenario runs through the minds of stressed college students every year. Jacob Jankowski, the narrator of Sara Gruen’s third novel "Water for Elephants," lives out this fantasy, ditching his final veterinary exams and jumping a train which just happens to be the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth. This engrossing, original novel is told from the perspective of a ninety- or ninety-three-year-old (he can’t remember with certainty) Jacob as he reminisces about being swept up in the bizarre life of roustabouts (circus performers) as a twenty-three-year-old.

Gruen’s use of the present tense gives a sense of immediacy to an already action-packed narrative.

“I reach for the iron grab bar and fling myself upward. My left foot and elbow hit first, and then my chin, which smashes onto the metal edging. I cling tightly with all three. The noise is deafening, and my jawbone bangs rhythmically on the iron edging.”

After jumping the train, Jacob is hired as the circus vet and soon learns the harsh truth behind the glitz and glamour and faces the threat of being “redlighted,” dumped from the moving train as it passes over a trestle, when he falls in love with Marlena, the star of the show and wife of the sadistic, cruel August. August is one of many richly drawn, fully developed characters you will want to spend more time with when the novel ends. Others include Kinko, an angry midget; Barbara, a hooker with a heart of gold; Rosie, an elephant; and Uncle Al, the ringmaster consumed by his obsession with besting the Ringling Brothers.

Gruen skillfully interweaves the story of the young, idealistic Jacob, and that of the elderly Jacob who is betrayed by the weakness and fallibility of his body. The passages depicting Jacob’s frustrating, stifled existence in the nursing home are poignant and compassionately told.

As Jacob waits for family visits, he returns in his imagination to the adventurous days of his youth.

“All I can do is put in time waiting for the inevitable, observing the ghosts of my past rattle around my vacuous present. They crash and bang and make themselves at home, mostly because there’s no competition…Damn ghosts.”

Although the descriptive writing is vivid, the dialogue at times is stilted, even bordering on soap opera-ish.

“‘I love you, too,’ she whispers. ‘I think I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. But don’t you see? I’m married to August.’”

Ultimately, this fault is quickly forgiven as Gruen casts her spell, making both circus life and nursing home life come alive.

Gruen’s extensive research and inclusion of circus photographs adds credibility and authenticity. The text is peppered with actual circus terms and references to events in circus history such as the Jamaica ginger paralysis, an incident involving 100,000 Americans becoming paralyzed after drinking moonshine in the 1930s.

This imaginative spectacle is well worth the fare, providing entertainment, but still exploring serious issues such as aging and isolation.

-Reviewed by Anna Fry

Book Review: "What Is the What"

“What Is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng.” A novel by Dave Eggers. McSweeney’s 2006. $26. 475 pages.

The village was burning and the horsemen were circling when Valentino Achak Deng fled his family and his home in southern Sudan as a 7-year-old boy. “What Is the What” captures his hellish journey from his war-torn country to the refugee camps of Ethiopia and Kenya, and finally to the United States as one of the resettled “Lost Boy” refugees, so named because many had lost their parents. As Deng writes in the preface, “This is simply one man’s story, subjectively told,” to author Dave Eggers.

It’s a helluva story though. The details are so horrific it’s almost easier to imagine they never happened. But they did, and therein lies the purpose of this book — to document the atrocities Deng and his fellow Sudanese faced and still face. As I read, I could almost hear the ghosts among the pages whisper, “Never forget.”

As Deng walked with hundreds of other boys to the Sudanese-Ethiopian border under the guidance of their impromptu 18-year-old leader Dut, death was a constant companion. In the United States, it’s hard to think of a child crossing the street safely, let alone dodging wild animals, rebel soldiers and machine-gun-toting murahaleen (the government-backed Arab militia that ravaged the non-Arab tribes and villages of southern Sudan).

The boys who did manage to trudge on had to be careful not to linger: “Sleeping for more than an hour in the sun was sure to bring carrion birds, and we had to be vigilant, lest the birds begin to feast while we were alive.”

The compelling story gets worse, much worse. The war between the Sudanese government and the southern rebels killed an estimated two million people and displaced many others. It also enabled a brisk slave trade. Deng’s boyhood friend Moses was abducted by the murahaleen and became a slave. Moses’ account is one of the book’s hardest passages to read: “The Arab was putting a burning metal rod to my head…. In my ear, he branded the number 8, turned on its side…. — Now you will always know who owns you, this man said to me.” When pressed about the slavery issue, the Sudanese government called them “consensual work arrangements,” Deng said.

It’s hard to pick apart such a weighty, well-intentioned book, but it does suffer from two flaws. The first glaring weakness is that Eggers and Deng agreed to call this book a novel, thereby allowing naysayers to dismiss whatever they dislike as fiction. Their decision leaves the book occupying the netherworld between fiction and non-fiction.

Eggers also overuses an annoying literary device. Instead of alternating between Deng’s present-day life in Atlanta and his past life in Sudan from chapter to chapter, Eggers seizes on random passersby in Deng’s days to launch into different recollections.

Here Eggers clumsily inserts a barely sketched woman from the health club where Deng works to segue into a musing on identity: “The last woman of the rush is Dorsetta Lewis, one of the few African-American women who works out at this club.” Two pages later, we return to Dorsetta: “Dorsetta, I pretend that I know who I am now, but I simply don’t. I’m not an American and it seems difficult now to call myself Sudanese.” One more brief mention and she is gone as quickly as she came.

Absent these two flaws, “What Is the What” easily captivated and educated me beyond the Darfur conflict, where much of the world’s attention has focused in the past three years. Separate from the longtime civil war, this western region of Sudan has lost hundreds of thousands of non-Arab residents in what the U.S. government has called genocide at the hands of the Janjaweed, an Arab militia. But nothing has stopped the violence in Sudan. Not pronouncements, not multiparty talks and not paltry peacekeeping forces sent by the African Union.

Until it stops, the story must be told. And veteran novelist Eggers, author of the rambling Gen-X tome “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius,” obliges in this unconventional autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng. Eggers wisely lets Deng’s story tell itself, rather than embellish it with florid, overworked prose. The result of Egger’s simple narrative style is a relationship forged over hundreds of pages between the reader and the protagonist. When I closed “What Is the What,” I felt as if I knew Deng. Finally a face, or even a friend, to accompany the news stories filed from Sudan.

-Reviewed by: Allison Loudermilk