Disgrace

written by J.M. Coetzee

This novel was recommended to me by Michelle, my book-loving sister-in-law who is a librarian at the Plymouth Library (and whom I can always count on as a great source for thought-provoking literature!). It tells of the pitiful demise of David Lurie, a white South African professor whose indiscriminate sexual appetite winds up getting him fired after he seduces (rapes?) one of his students. He drops out of the university scene, intending to spend some time regrouping at the home of his earthy twentysomething daughter Lucy, who owns a combination dog kennel/organic farm. Misfortune seems to follow him, and the farm is burglarized by some thugs who also beat up Lurie and rape Lucy. The rest of the novel tells of his leaving the farm for a time to work on an opera he's writing, then returning to try to get Lucy to move away from the farm and away from danger.

Really cool elements:

• If you can get past Lurie's abhorrent view of women, the book contains some interesting paradoxes that show the moral disconnect which often plagues the human heart. For example, He nonchalantly objectifies women in general... yet seems to feel genuine love for his daughter Lucy. He is a professor of "Communications"... yet can't seem to master the art himself. He has no functional relationships in his life (even his relationship with Lucy is strained) ... yet begins to feel something resembling compassion for unwanted dogs in a veterinary clinic where he begins to volunteer. I can identify areas in my own life where similar paradoxes emerge. I think it's evidence that we have both (1) an innate thirst for virtue and "rightness," because we're all made in the image of a perfect Creator, and (2) an inexplicable attraction to abasement, because we're also born with a bent toward sin. The novel does a good job showing this. Maybe too good.

Not-so-cool elements:

• I was so repulsed by Lurie and his dehumanizing view of women that it was difficult to pay respects to the the overarching story. About the first 75 pages are devoted to a subplot focusing on Lurie's relationship with a prostitute. This sets the stage for his alarming emotional manipulation and physical seduction of Melanie (the student), which by any standards is painful to read. Later in the novel, while staying with his daughter Lucy, he matter-of-factly seduces one of Lucy's friends: middle-aged Bev Shaw, with whom he has begun working at the animal clinic. Lack of moral character is one thing, but complete and repeated disregard for the value of women really bothers me. It made me angry at the author and became such a major distraction that I had a hard time even finishing the book.
• At the end of the book (and this is a spoiler, so be warned if you plan on reading it yourself!) Lurie finds some sort of peace in arranging for the euthanization of a dog that he has become particularly attached to. I tried hard to figure out what this is supposed to symbolize, and I just couldn't come up with anything that made sense. Is he finally saying goodbye to any shred of decency he has left? Is he letting go of his desire to control his daughter's decisions? Trying to put to death the parts of his character which make him tick but which he knows are immoral? I still don't know.
• I found myself wishing for more detail about Lurie's daughter. What were her thoughts about her father and his moral demise? What were her thoughts about the rape and burglary? Did she somehow see these things as related? Didn't she fear for her safety after the assault? I thought it odd that she would choose to stay on in a place that was dangerous, even after the known rapist moved in next door with her former hired-hand. Having known closely a handful of women who have been assaulted in real life, I wish that Lucy had at least had her own voice in this story. Her character seemed underdeveloped to me.
• This might be trivial, but it seems silly that Lurie's daughter calls him "David" and not "Dad" or something similar. Is it a sign of their dysfunctional relationship? Or perhaps a sign that she never really considered him a father figure? Who knows, but it's annoying.
• Because I know next to nothing about South Africa, I wish the author would've brought in more description about the surroundings, the people, and the culture. Odd that he would even choose South Africa as a setting and then opt not to flavor the novel with lots of detail about that part of the world and its people. In fact, at times I didn't even know if certain characters were white or black (Melanie the student, some of Lurie's colleagues, Bev Shaw, the police who investigated Lucy's rape and burglary), and whether this had any impact on their interrelationships.

The Poisonwood Bible

written by Barbara Kingsolver

This was a really disturbing book on many levels, yet I'm really glad that I read it. The novel chronicles the lives of the wife and daughters of a total nut case (Nathan Price) who passed himself off as a Baptist missionary to Congo in the 1960s. (You might know Congo as Zaire, which is what it was called from 1971 to 1997.) I call Price a nut case because the guy's character (or lack thereof) literally destroyed his family, alienated the very people he was trying to impact, and painted such a warped picture of God that I'm betting most readers of this novel (unless they already have a firm faith in God to begin with) will most certainly be driven further from him (God, not Price!) than before they picked up the book.

Granted, the author provides some background for why Price is such a kook, but still. It made me long to have a private moment with each reader of this book and gently explain that not all missionaries are self-seeking, condescending, holier-than-thou proselytizers whose main goal is to force Western culture onto foreign nations. There really does exist a pretty vast number of people who sacrifice their careers, wealth, comforts, possessions, and the familiarity of home in order to respectfully and humbly bring a selfless, unadulterated Gospel to people who have never heard the name of Christ. I know this because I've met people like this, even worked alongside people like this briefly in Argentina. And their goal really isn't to sweep away a culture's identity in the name of God, or to make that culture bow to the ideals of Western capitalism or even democracy.

But I digress.

The book is really well done. The main characters take turns telling their story in first-person. Sometimes the stories they relate overlap, sometimes not.

Really cool elements:

• Kingsolver does a fabulous job portraying Rachel, the sister you love to hate. She is shallow, selfish, unthinking, blonde (in every sense of the word) and generally the archetype of that annoying relative we all have -- the one you're embarrassed to share a gene pool with. Particularly witty is the way Kingsolver allows Rachel to unknowingly reveal her dimness through constant linguistic faux pas. For example: "You have your way of thinking and [Africa] has its, and never the train ye shall meet." Another one that made me laugh right out loud was, "Nelson was not going to sleep in our chicken house for all the teeth in China."
• The portrayal of Adah (one of the middle sisters, who suffers from some vague mental and neurological disorders) is fascinating. Adah is a study in paradoxes. She is brilliant yet mentally challenged; incredibly strong, yet her physical body is damaged goods. And as you read her narrative you really do get right inside her head and experience with her the pain and tragedy of her African (and then American) experience.
• Perhaps the most valuable part of this book, to me at least, was that it offers quite an education on the dramatic political upheaval that brought Congo out from under the thumb of Belgium and into its own African nation, for better or for worse. It just makes me realize how little I know of world affairs and the abhorrent corruption that often disguises itself as "aid" to poor nations. The atrocities committed are eerily similar to what is happening in present-day Iraq.

Not-so-cool elements:

• This book was torturously long, at least to me. Have I ever read a book that's 543 pages?
• As I mentioned above, it's sad that a lot of readers will come away from this book with a bad taste in their mouths about Western missionaries.

The Beach House

written by James Patterson

Which came first, Grisham or Patterson?

This is only the second novel I've read by James Patterson and it was vastly different than the first (which was Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas, but that's an entry for another day). The Beach House is pretty captivating in a Grisham-esque way, which is fine if you like that sort of thing. And I do, when I'm in the right mood. Nothing wrong with a somewhat predictable, formulaic good-guy-versus-bad-guy(s) plot, with a little love story and litigation thrown in for good measure.

The story takes place on Long Island and is told by Jack Mullen, a local boy who's nearly done with his law degree at Columbia. Jack's brother Peter is found dead on the shore the morning after a wealthy businessman throws a swanky party at a beachfront mansion. Jack is convinced that the police, who chalk up the death to suicide, are puppets for the wealthy businessman and are covering up the real reasons for Peter's death. The book follows Jack's quest to discover the facts and bring the perpetrators to justice.

Really cool elements:

• Call me schmaltzy, but I like the idea that a regular smalltown guy can take on rich, powerful, evil people and win. Though the story might be a little hokey in spots (there is a trial scene toward the end that is quite unbelievable, and the ending borders on ridiculous), I do like the message.
• This book gets pretty high marks for entertainment value, because it draws you in quickly and holds your attention until the very end.

Not-so-cool elements:

• As Jack uncovers details about Peter's life and the reasons for the murder, some dark and violent sexual themes surface. I'm guessing Patterson probably intended this as a way to bake in some shock and intrigue, but please. Uck.
• Is it really necessary to have 113 chapters in one 350-page book? Some of the chapters were like two pages long. I felt a little insulted over that, like the author didn't trust me to have a grown-up's attention span.