The Treads in Our Lives
Topic: Book Reviews


I told Mr. Tiger what I was reading yesterday. "I was reading the absorbing novel, Mystic River by Dennis Lehane. Had me sobbing like I haven't cried in a long time," I added.

'You could have rented the movie instead of spending all those hours reading a whodunit mystery.'

He was right again. I could have. I did enjoy the movie version when it first came out in the theaters in 2003. Watching the DVD would have been quicker. Nonetheless, I was glad to have read the book. I tried to explain to the pest. "Clint Eastwood did a great job directing the film and the actors did well too, but still," I said, straining to articulate, "there's something that only the written word effectively communicates. Something about the language of Life that a story about 3 eleven year old boys, one of whom was accosted, could reach."

I went on with an excerpt from pages 173 and 174 of Mystic River. Jimmy, the father of teenager Katie - the murder victim, is talking to his old buddy Sean and another cop named Whitey. They are in the morgue.

"Mr. Marcus," Whitey said, "we were hoping to ask you a few questions. I know it's a hard time, but..."

Jimmy lowered the sheet back over his daughters's face, his lips moving, but no sounds leaving his mouth. He looked over at Whitey as if he were surprised to find him in the room, pen poised over his report pad. He turned his head, looked at Sean.

"You ever think," said Jimmy, "how the most minor decision can change the entire direction of your life?"

Sean held his eyes. "How so?"

Jimmy's face was pale and blank, the eyes turned up as if he were trying to remember where he left his car keys.

"I heard once that Hitler's mother almost aborted him but bailed out at the last minute. I heard he left Vienna because he couldn't sell his paintings. He sells a painting, though, Sean? Or his mother actually aborts? The world's a way different place. You know? Or, like, say you miss your bus one morning, so you buy a second cup of coffee, buy a scratch ticket while you're at it. The scratch ticket hits. Suddenly you don't have to take the bus anymore. You drive to work in a Lincoln. But you get in a car crash and you die. All because you missed the bus one day."

Sean looked at Whitey. Whitey shrugged.

"No," Jimmy said, "don't do that. Don't look at him like I'm crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not in shock."

"Okay, Jim."

"I'm just saying there are threads, okay? Threads in our lives. You pull one, and everything else gets effected. Say it rained in Dallas and so Kennedy didn't ride in a convertible. Stalin stayed in the seminary. Say you and me, Sean, say we got in the car with Dave Boyle."

"What?" Whitey said. "What car?"

Sean held up a hand and said to Jimmy, "I'm losing you here."

"You are? If we got in the car, life would have been a different thing. My first wife, Marita, Katie's mother? She was so beautiful. She was regal. You know the way some Latin woman can be? Gorgeous. And she knew it. If a guy wanted to approach her, he better have some big balls on him. And I did. I was King Shit at sixteen. I was fearless. And I did approach her, and I did ask her out. And a year later - Christ, I was seventeen, a child - we got married and she was carrying Katie.

Jimmy walked around his daughter's body in slow, steady circles.

"Here's the thing, Sean - if we'd gotten in that car, been driven off to God knows where and had God knows what done to us by two freaks for four days when we were, what eleven? - I don't think I'd have been so ballsy at sixteen. I think I would have been a basket case, you know, stoked on Ritalin or whatever. I know never would have had what it took to ask out a woman as haughty gorgeous as Marita. And so we never would have had Katie. And Katie, then, never would have been murdered. But she was. All because we didn't get in that car, Sean. You see what I'm saying?"

'Done yet? asked Mr. Tiger, acting as though he were struggling to make sense of the above.

"Yeah," I said with anticipation, "just another few pages to read before I'm finished with this powerful novel."

---------------
post note:
"Hey Tige, "Ever wonder how a post would appear if you copied and pasted only half of it into the entry place? That is exactly what happened on this post. I'm leaving it as is...kinda like it too."

Pages from the past and present
Topic: Book Reviews

"We read books to find out who we are. What other people, real or imaginary, do and think and feel is an essential guide to our understanding of what we ourselves are and may become." - Ursula K. LeGuin

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the egghead within, "My sister Colleen tagged me a long while ago to do a book meme. I'm finally ready. Let me say also, that I have to agree with what Colleen expressed on her entry, when she wrote, "I've been thinking how hard it is to name only one book that changed my life; how I read mostly to learn rather than for entertainment..."

A quote from an author unknown came to mind. I asked Tiger, "In the vastness of the ocean, is any drop of water greater than another?"

'Good question,' he answered feigning interest. 'Let's talk about it,' he added like a cherry on the cake.

The question from the unknown author has burned within my heart for as long as I can recall, I let it pass though in favor of getting to the task at hand, responding thusly, "No, not today Tiger. Let's just tackle the questions below beginning with the most difficult on the list - number one.

1. One book that changed my life:
I've chosen; The Four Agreements by Toltec master Don Miguel Ruiz. It has become almost a practical guide to living. The four agreements are:

1. Be Impeccable With Your Word
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
2. Don't Take Anything Personally
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.
3. Don't Make Assumptions
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
4. Always Do Your Best
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.


2. One book that I have read more than once: Drinking to the very last drop of, Initiation by Elisabeth Haich, has never been enough for me. All reads (probably 4) have taught me something new, depending on where I was on my path while reading. Said plainly; Haich teaches as the reader follows her journey of her initiation.

3. One book I would want on a deserted island: Since Light is so critical to our total health, bringing Light - Medicine of the Future by Jacob Liberman, O.D., PH.D might be just the book to have on an island. I could bolster what I learned when I read his book the first time in '91 and study again about the immune system, the third eye, color wavelengths; all while basking in the Light of the sun.

4. One book that made me laugh: "If you get the joke, you get the philosophical point," a quote by John Allen Paulos explains why I liked the irresistible humor of George Carlin in, Brain Droppings.

5. One book that made me cry was:
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse.
An excerpt first from Chapter 4 and then another from Chapter 11 offers two clues as to why I cried throughout this powerful tale.
"[Siddhartha] stood alone like a star in the heavens...That was the last shudder of his awakening, the last pains of birth. Immediately he moved on again and began to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer homewards, no longer to his father, no longer looking backwards."

"Had not his father suffered the same pain that he was now suffering for his son? Had not his father died long ago, alone, without having seen his son again? Did not he expect the same fate? Was it not a comedy, a strange and stupid thing, this repetition, this course of events in a fateful circle?"


6. One book I wish I'd written: "The Jim and Dan Stories: A Journey of Grief and Faith" by my sister Colleen Redman (yes the same sister who tagged me for this meme). My ability to dig down as deeply as Colleen was able to do - pulling up as she did - the gems of our childhood, while also conveying the pain of losing two brothers within the span of 36 days, is doubtful. But, I wish I had. She is my hero and my heart will be forever grateful to Colleen for writing a book that I've read over and over - always while laughing and crying, and sometimes while wishing I was on a deserted island.


7. One book I wish had never been written: Since everything teaches I have no answer for number 7.

8. One book I am currently reading: I'm on a fiction kick these last few weeks. Since discovering Dennis Lehane's novels I have been on a riverting ride because of the remarkable story lines but moreso because he is able to shine such psychological insight onto his characters. Mystic River the novel I'm reading today (much better than the movie).

9. One book I have been meaning to read: The Mystery of the Seven Vowels by Joscelyn Godwin. With a name like Godwin, I can't think why this book remains on my shelf unopened. Picking it up now, I read this from the back jacket.
I think this one will definitely be next...unless it isn't.

One of those Mondays
Topic: Book Reviews

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the noise in my head, "it's the day before Halloween - hmmm - what shall I post today?"

'Another poem?'

"No."

'How about a book report?' suggested Mr. Tiger who I guessed was playing at being Mr. Helpful today.

"Well, I have been reading a lot," I nodded, "with this cold, broncitis, I think, I'm not feeling like doing much else, so yeah, I could blog that I've been reading fiction again, for a change of pace."

'You already mentioned Dennis Lehane - the local crime fiction writer.'

"Yeah, I love how when he writes, getting right into the psyche of his characters. And since Lehane grew up in Dorchester, not far from where I live, I like how he uses towns I know in his narratives." I gave Tiger an example. "Like in the one I just finished, Prayers For Rain, where on page 161 in the paperback edition, I rode with his words, the same places I have traveled, hundreds, or even thousands, of times in real life."

I read. "...He got off the expressway in Hingham and led us through another half an hour of bumper-to-bumper down one humid, crabby lane of Route 228. We passed through Hingham - all white colonials and white picket fences and white people - and then under high-tension wire before the black Beemer led us into Nantasket.
Once a grungy beach community with a soiled-neon carny atmosphere that attracted lots of bikers and woman with flabby, exposed midriffs and stringy hair, Nantaket Beach slipped into a sterile, picture-postcard loveliness when they tore down the amusement park that once fronted its shores. Gone were the cheesy teacup rides and the ratty wooden clowns you'd knock down with a softball to win an anemic guppy in a plastic bag. A roller coaster that, in its time, had been acknowledged as the country's most dangerous had had its twisted dinosaur of a skeleton shattered by wrecking balls and pulled by its roots from the earth so they could build condos overlooking the boardwalk. All that remained of the old days were the ocean itself and a few arcades bathed in sticky orange light along the boardwalk."

'Enough,' Mr. Pretend-to-be-Friendly cut in.

"There's more on the next page about Nantasket," I said, "but yeah, those are his words and not mine. What shall I write about today?"

'Nothing,' he said out loud, then under his breath, he mumbled something like, 'doesn't matter anyway.'

"Indeed," I said because I knew that. So I let it ride without argument and said, "I think I'll just post some pictures of good ol' Nantasket, the town where I grew up and had my first job selling amusement ride tickets. I'll leave it at that," I said and I did.

Masters of Suspense
Topic: Book Reviews


"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the pest who aims to stunt my understandings of the human condition, "holy smokereeneeoo - it blew me away!"

'Not what?' asked the intolerant pest. 'What blew you away?" he managed to ask.

"The short story Running Out of Dog about a Vietnam vet who returned to his hometown of Eden, S.C., after the war and become tragically entangled with the wife of a man whose rich family kept him out of the war."

I backed up to an invite that was sent to my family from my niece Rachael, who wrote to all of us via email, "Hi All, I have 4 tickets to the below Masters of Mystery at the Pinehills tomorrow. 1 pair for the afternoon, and 1 pair for the evening. The tickets are $100 each to purchase. If anyone is intersted in going, or knows someone else who would enjoy it, let me know. I could meet you tomorrow and get the tickets to you. Let me know, thanks! Rachael"

I said to Tiger, "I couldn't go because I was working, but jeeze, I wish I could have. Two of my sisters, Tricia and Sherry, both of whom were lucky enough to go, said it was fantastic."

'Slow down,' advised Tiger, 'slow yourself down and tell me where you're going with this.'

"Okay okay," I agreed while clicking here to the community affairs bulletin board. I read aloud, "We invite you to a very special evening with some of the country¿s best mystery writers for "Tales of Mystery: An Encounter with Masters of Suspense" at The Pinehills in Plymouth.

Join our celebrity mystery authors in the living rooms of the Custom Gallery¿s three spectacular custom homes, as they read short excerpts from their latest books. Then listen (and join) the lively and personal discussions about where they get their ideas for their books, how they work and insights into the mysterious minds of successful authors."

'Yeah?' asked Tiger who acted as though he still didn't get it.

"I guess I missed a great opportunity to receive three brand new books and to meet the three fabulous authors," I continued, "one of whom was Dennis Lehane from Dorchester, Massachusetts, the author of Mystic River."

I went on, "I saw the 5 star movie a few years ago, and although I always intended to read the book too, I never did. Now after reading the first story from his new book Coronado - a book of short stories, which Sherry loaned me, I'm going to order Mystic River and all his other seven novels."

As Tiger said, 'Ugh,' I clicked over to Amazon to read what others were saying about Coronado. I agreed with reviewer Jason LS Raia who said, "... All but one of the stories centers on an act of violence, which Lehane then attempts to understand in terms of psychology, environment, upbringing, poverty, honor, revenge, and any number of possible underlying causes. At the root of each violent act is love--rejected, twisted, broken, or new.

Lehane's dark storytelling is compelling because these stories are all too believable. His characters are not macabre ghouls from the movie screen, but instead they are just like people we know. Lehane is able to capture the real world in his writing. He is an artist whose brushstrokes capture the scene with just the right colors and in just the right pose. He describes one character thus:

"There was something about Jewel Lut that sank into men's flesh the way heat did. It wasn't just that she was pretty, had a beautiful body, moved in a loose, languid way that made you picture her naked no matter what she was wearing....Jewel gobbled up life, dove into it like it was a cool pond cut in the shade of a mountain on the hottest day of the year."

Two Books
Topic: Book Reviews

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the devil within, "I'm reading this most wonderful little novel, "The Devil and Miss Prym: A Novel of Temptation by storyteller Paulo Coelho."

'Save yourself the time,' responded the pest before he clamored, 'it's nothing but a fictional look at people living a boring life in a small village. How wonderful can that possibly be?'

Not bothering to tell him first how often while reading the author's words, I thought of him, I answered, "In a nutshell Coelho's cleverly written tale is about the human condition Tige, namely our dual natures."

I read from the jacket although Tiger knew perfectly well to what I was referring.

" A community devoured by greed, cowardice, and fear. A man persecuted by the ghosts of his painful past. A young woman searching for happiness. In one eventful week, each will face questions of life, death, and power, and each will choose a path. Will they choose good or evil? In the remote village of Viscos -- a village too small to be on any map, a place where time seems to stand still -- a stranger arrives, carrying with him a backpack containing a notebook and eleven gold bars. He comes searching for the answer to a question that torments him: Are human beings, in essence, good or evil? In welcoming the mysterious foreigner, the whole village becomes an accomplice to his sophisticated plot, which will forever mark their lives. Paulo Coelho's stunning novel explores the timeless struggle between good and evil, and brings to our everyday dilemmas fresh perspective: incentive to master the fear that prevents us from following our dreams, from being different, from truly living. The Devil and Miss Prym is a story charged with emotion, in which the integrity of being human meets a terrifying test. "

The pest said not a word.

Mr. Tiger's silence gave me the opportunity to read another passage written by another author - P. D. Ouspensky, who on page 29 in his book, "In Search of the Miraculous," offers a conversation between himself and G.I. Gurdjieff in response to the same question Paulo Coelho explored in his novel - which is - the paths we choose to travel and why.

(G) "Try to understand what I am saying: everything is dependent on everything else, everything is connected, nothing is separate. Therefore everything is going in the only way it can go. If people
were different everything would be different. They are what they are, so everything is as it is."

(O) This was very difficult to swallow. "Is there nothing, absolutely nothing, that can be done?" I asked.

(G) "Absolutely nothing."

(O) "And can nobody do anything?"

(G) "That is another question. In order to do it is necessary to be. And it is necessary first to understand what be means. If we continue our talks you will see that we use a special language and that, in order to talk with us, it is necessary to learn this language. It is not worth while talking in ordinary language because, in that language, it is impossible to understand one another. This also, at the moment, seems strange to you. But it is true. In order to understand it is necessary to learn another language. In the language which people speak they cannot understand one another. You will see
later on why this is so.

"Then one must learn to speak the truth. This also appears strange to you. You do not realize that one has to learn to speak the truth. It seems to you that it is enough to wish or to decide to do so. And I tell you that people comparatively rarely tell a deliberate lie. In most cases they think they speak the truth. And yet they lie all the time, both when they wish to lie and when they wish to speak the
truth. They lie all the time, both to themselves and to others. Therefore nobody ever understands either himself or anyone else. Think - could there be such discord, such deep misunderstanding, and
such hatred towards the views and opinions of others, if people were able to understand one another? But they cannot understand because they cannot help lying. To speak the truth is the most difficult thing in the world; and one must study a great deal and for a long time in order to be able to speak the truth. The wish alone is not enough. To speak the truth one must know what the truth is and what a lie is, and first of all in oneself. And this nobody wants to know."