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Set for publication March 5, 2009 from Amy Einhorn Books (a division of Penguin)
Diana Joseph’s memoir I’m Sorry You Feel That Way: The Astonishing True Story of a Daughter, Sister, Slut, Wife, Mother and Friend to Man & Dogisn’t really a memoir in the traditional sense. But that’s kind of okay with me. Rather than starting at the beginning and moving through a linear narrative of her life, Joseph presents her life in a series of fifteen essays that range from humorous to insightful to sad to unfulfilling. Think of the organization of a David Sedaris book—repeating characters and themes, a touch of “Hey! Look how weird/funny/unusual/mundanely boring my life is,” and just a few laugh-out-loud moments—and you’ve got I’m Sorry You Feel That Way.
At just 224 pages, this is a quick and generally pretty light read. Joseph explores some of the heavier issues of motherhood, womanhood, and marriage, but she does so with tongue planted firmly in cheek. This approach, combined with her blatant disregard for commas and her stream of consciousness-ish style, often make it a bit too easy to overlook the serious topics at hand and just allow the words to wash over you. I enjoyed most of these essays, but I must say that contrary to what the title might claim, there is nothing truly astonishing about any of them.
And again, that’s kind of okay. Joseph is a middle-aged English professor married to another middle-aged English professor, raising a teenage boy. She had her wilder times when she was young; she’s smoked weed and said “yes” to a few too many boys; and though not very religious, she’s worried about the Satanist who lives upstairs and where he’ll go when he dies.
Of the fifteen vignettes, three really stood out to me. In “Love in the Age of Ick,” in which she contemplates the what-was-I-thinking dating decisions of her teenage years, which led to a relationship with an older guy who called her his “old lady” and about whom she says “I felt sorry for him, and I called it love.” I think we’ve all been there and done that, and Joseph hits the nail on the head in both her reflection on and analysis of that stage of life.
“The Devil I Know Is the Man Upstairs” starts off as a story about the aforementioned Satanist neighbor but quickly becomes Joseph’s reflection on her own religious upbringing—during which she was “saved” more than once—and her memories of a particularly insistent Sunday School teacher whose voice she hears in her head during the moments when she is considering less-than-savory behavior. Anyone who grew up in the mid-west knows someone like Joseph or has had similar experiences herself (I went to high school with a boy who went forward to at least one altar call every month), so many readers will relate to this story. Though, I should warn you, it doesn’t cast the most positive light on religion, so if that’s something you’re sensitive to, you might just move on to the next chapter.
In the piece that made me laugh the loudest, “Humping the Dinosaur,” (how can you not love a chapter with a name like that?) Joseph discusses the family dog who, though neutered, wouldn’t stop humping everything in sight. When a trainer she consulted informed her that the dog was humping to express his dominance and the she should dry hump him to straighten him out (yep, you read that correctly), Joseph was initially shocked and disgusted. Then this happened:
I’d been napping on the couch, one of those late-afternoon naps I always regret because I wake up crabby and still tired. Even though I was groggy, even before I opened my eyes, I knew the puppy was standing there. I sensed him. He was staring at me.
He locked his gaze on mine. I saw there was a yellow dinosaur pinched between his teeth. He kept his eyes on me as he drew that thing up between his legs and humped it.
I’m the baby, I’m the baby, I’m the baby, the yellow dinosaur squeaked, and as the puppy humped it, he maintained eye contact with me. I felt like he knew my shyest secrets.
I leapt off the couch, and in a fury, I yanked it from him, and I beat him with it, and I’m embarrassed to admit what else I did.
It’s not like afterward the puppy took a nap while I smoked a cigarette, though that is indeed what happened.
Now, it could just be that I was reading that at bedtime and was already feeling a little punchy, but that story dissolved me into a fit of giggles that was only made worse by my attempts to read it to my husband so he could also appreciate the hilarity (and join me in imagining how ridiculous it would be if one of us decided to dry hump our basset hound in order to show her who’s boss).
I don’t think I’m Sorry You Feel That Way is going to change my life or be one of my favorite books of the year, but it was an enjoyable and mostly satisfying read. 3 out of 5.
Visit the author’s website for more information, and definitely check out her blog. If you buy the book and send her a copy of the receipt, she’ll send you an I’m Sorry You Feel That Way tote bag that she made herself! What’s not to like about that?
This week we are going to continue with the theme started last week and go even further exploring our favorite book characters.
Many of us have had an opportunity to interview an author, mostly through email, but perhaps even on the phone or in person. In fact, many of you have become experts at author interviews. So this week, let’s pretend that we can get in contact with one of our favorite characters and interview them. What would you ask Mr. Darcy if you could send him an email? What would his answers be like? What would you say if you could just call up Liesel or Rudy from The Book Thief and ask them anything? How would they answer your questions? What if you could invite Jo March or Anne Shirley to lunch, what would the conversation be like?
This week, I had the distinct pleasure of sitting down with Owen Meany (from John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany, which, it is well known, is one of my favorite books ever). Owen and I had a great time sharing coffee and conversation. We talked about sports, politics, and what it’s like to grow up small. I had a great time, but I didn’t take many notes. I did, however, write down his answers to the questionnaire James Lipton gives at the end of every Inside the Actors’ Studio. So, check it:
Owen, what is your favorite word? OH, THAT’S EASY. DESTINY.
What is your least favorite word? CUTE. I HATE BEING CALLED CUTE. I AM NOT CUTE!
What turns you on (creatively, spiritually, emotionally)? ONE WORD: BOOBIES! ESPECIALLY TABITHA’S. JOHN HATES IT WHEN I SAY HIS MOTHER HAS BEAUTIFUL BREASTS, BUT WHAT CAN I DO? IT’S THE TRUTH!
What turns you off (creatively, spiritually, emotionally)? PEOPLE WHO DOUBT ME AND DON’T BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT I KNOW GOD HAS A PLAN FOR ME.
What sound or noise do you love? I LOVE THE WAY JOHN’S MOTHER TABITHA SAYS MY NAME.
What sound or noise do you hate? THE CRACK OF A BASEBALL BAT MAKING CONTACT WITH THE BALL. EVER SINCE THE INCIDENT, I CAN’T STAND THAT NOISE.
What is your favorite curse word? I TRY NOT TO CURSE, BUT I DID PICK UP SOME BAD LANGUAGE IN THE ARMY. I DON’T WANT TO ANSWER THIS ONE.
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER. AFTER ALL, I HAVE PUT IN MORE THAN ENOUGH PRACTICE HOURS.
What profession would you not like to do? I WOULDN’T TRADE PLACES WITH MY SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER MRS. WALKER FOR ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD.
If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates? TWO THINGS. FIRST: “I’M SO GLAD YOU BELIEVED.” AND THEN “I’VE PUT THE ARMADILLO BACK TOGETHER, AND I’VE BEEN SAVING IT FOR YOU.”
Well, there you have it, folks, a brief glimpse into the life of one of contemporary literature’s best characters. What would you like to ask your favorite character?
Hardcover? Or paperback? For ease of reading/accessibility, I usually prefer paperbacks because 1) They’re easier to tote around in my purse; 2) They’re easier for my small hands to hold (and I do like to be able to bend them back sometimes…I know that makes some of you cringe.); and 3) They’re less expensive, so if I loan them to a friend and never see them again, they are easily and affordably replaced. On the other hand, I prefer hardcover for books that I want to collect (all of my vintage Scarlet Letter editions are hardcover) and for books that I really love. I enjoy that ARCs of hardcover new releases come as paperbacks, which makes them great for the reasons listed above, then I have the option of purchasing the book in hardcover if I really love it and want to have a pristine edition that’s not covered in reading notes….at least not until I get around to re-reading it.
Illustrations? Or just text? I generally prefer just text, unless the illustration will add something to my understanding of the story. Maps and family trees/character charts are always appreciated when the book has a large cast or involves a region I’m not familiar with (or that doesn’t really exist, like Middle Earth). I’m not a very visual learner, so if illustrations are just included for entertainment, I don’t pay much attention to them….unless, of course, we’re talking about children’s books. Then, I love good illustrations.
First editions? Or you don’t care? I don’t really care. If I read a book in ARC form and end up loving it, I’m going to buy the first edition in hardcover because I can’t wait to get my hands on it. Otherwise, it doesn’t make much difference to me. I’d love to someday be able to build a collection of rare and antique books, and then I’d be gunning for first editions if at all possible.
Signed by the author? Or not? For me, attending author signings is really all about having a chance to hear an author speak about their book and take questions from their readers. I enjoy having a minute or two to meet the author while he signs my book, but just having the signature in there doesn’t matter all that much. I do love it when authors I’ve developed a relationship with, either through work or my blog, send me a signed copy with a personalized message, though. Those are the ones I really want to hold onto.
Junot Diaz’s Pulitzer Prize-winning debut novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Waowas a lot more than I expected it to be. And that is definitely a good thing. Here’s how the back of the book describes the story:
Oscar is a sweet but disastrously overweight ghetto nerd, a New Jersey romantic who dreams of becoming the Dominican J.R.R. Tolkien and, most of all, of finding love. But Oscar may never get what he wants. Blame the fuku—a curse that has haunted Oscar’s family for generations, following them on their epic journey from the Dominican Republic to the United States and back again.
Now, all of that is true. Oscar (whose real last name is de Leon) is an endearingly, heartbreakingly nerdy fellow, and his attempts to find love and to fit in with his peers will be painfully familiar to most readers. We have all known an Oscar, and we have all felt like Oscar at some point in our lives. But Oscar takes it to another level. For him,
High school was the equivalent of a medieval spectacle, like being put in the stocks and forced to endure the peltings and outrages of a mob of deranged half-wits, an experience from which he supposed he should have emerged a better person, but that’s not really what happened—and if there were any lessons to be gleaned from the ordeal of those years he never quite figured out what they were.
Fluent in many of the invented languages of science fiction and significantly more intellectual than any of his peers, Oscar knew he would have a better chance of fitting in if he would just change, but that wasn’t really an option.
Dude wore his nerdiness like a Jedi wore his light saber or a Lensman her lens. Couldn’t have passed for Normal if he’d wanted to.
Diaz’s narrative, which is chock full of sci-fi and literary references, makes it clear that he is also conversant in the language of nerd, and he has great sympathy for Oscar’s character. His literary references, many of which will be familiar to serious readers, add color and depth to the story and help fill out Oscar’s already giant character even more.
In addition to telling Oscar’s story, the narrator Yunior, who refers to himself as a Watcher (a comic book reference), shares screentime with Oscar’s sister Lola, who steps in to tell her own story and present her perspective on Oscar, fuku, and the complexities of Dominican families. The experiences she relays are often less than savory, but they are told with such a realistic, believable voice that we come to understand and like her in spite of some of the decisions she’s made.
Yunior also pauses his narrative about Oscar to tell us the story of how Oscar’s mother grew up in the Dominican Republic, and it a story that is both difficult to read and impossible to put down. I have no idea how accurate the historical information Diaz works into the narrative is, but his writing about life under the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo is chilling and maddening, and it goes a long way in helping us understand exactly how Oscar’s family became so, well, interestingly messed up. Or cursed, if you will.
Oscar’s family has more than their share of troubles, but not all of them believe in the fuku. Lola tells us:
That’s life for you. All the happiness you gather to yourself, it will sweep away like it’s nothing. If you ask me I don’t think there are any such things as curses. I think there is only life. That’s enough.
It may sound like a downer, but The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao ends on a note that I found to be untraditionally optimistic. Despite Oscar’s many foibles and failed attempts to find love, he grows a great deal, and the evolution of his character is one of the highlights of this great book. He is likeable and easy to relate to, and Diaz (and his narrator Yunior) succeed in giving us a character we can laugh with, when it would have been so much easier to give us one to laugh at.
I went into this book expecting a relatively linear narrative about the life of a nerdy kid named Oscar, and what I got was much more than that. Diaz’s language is quick and sharp, and it never lets up. He pulls us into the de Leons’ story with a voice that is utterly unique, that allows us to identify with this family in which everyone has “the inextinguishable longing for elsewheres,” and that explores the relatively heavy topics of immigration and assimilation without becoming dark or depressing.
Diaz mixes many Spanish words into the story, allowing his characters to speak a kind of rapid-fire “Spanglish,” and while other reviewers have found these words distracting, I enjoyed the color they added to the narrative even when I didn’t know what they meant. The frequent cursing didn’t bother me at all, and it fit the characters and their voices very well. But be warned, there is frequent cursing, if you’re a reader who doesn’t enjoy that.
When it was all said and done, I thoroughly enjoyed The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. The story and narrative voices are unlike any I’ve read before, and I am so happy that the Pulitzer was awarded to such a delightfully off-beat novel. 4.5 out of 5.