The Shadow of the Wind

Empty. A wind blowing at nothing, unseen. That's exactly how Shadow of the Wind is. It takes no stand on anything. it vacillates back and forth between beautifully written and crude. Ever shifting, ever changing. not quite certain of itself. it's a coming of age novel and a mystery and a romance. It's such a waste, and similar to what I wrote about in Girl with a Pearl Earring. How empty Shadow of the Wind felt! Without any purpose to the story, without telling any truth about the human condition.

It begins promisingly enough: set in Spain after World War II, it follows a young boy, Daniel, who finds a book, The Shadow of the Wind, by Julian Carax, reads it, and loves it. But when he tries and fails to find more books by the same author, he learns that a mysterious figure hunts them down and methodically destroys any copies of his books. Almost nothing is known about Carax. Intrigued, he begins to piece together the mysterious life of Julian Carax, a story which parallels Daniel's own coming of age.

The book is sprinkled with a colorful cast of characters, every single one of whom is fully shaded. A dash of romance, a lot of danger, a creepy old house and a twist ending: it's a recipe for a Gothic romance. And Gothic it certainly is. There is no beacon of light, no redemption or even real love in the entire story. The devil figure of the book is utterly hateful, cruel, psychopathic, and given no chance for redemption. Additional characters act selfishly, wholly for their own interests, which makes the entire book a downwards spiral. True, the mystery of Julian Carax's life certainly captured my attention throughout the book, and I read on until his full life had unfolded. Unfortunately, it was nearly all predictable, and the parts which weren't predictable, while certainly original, were nothing better than interesting. They showed no piercing insight into human nature, but simply paralleled that of other books.

It parallels Leif Enger and Thornton Wilder in its beauty of prose: their books (reviewed here in this blog!) are some of my absolute favorites. But unlike Enger or Wilder, the words are empty, beautiful phrases and sentences and turns of phrase shaping nothing but thin air. Truth breathes life into the words of Enger and Wilder to make it truly beautiful. Not so in Shadow of the Wind. It has many ingredients of a good story: beautiful writing, an interesting idea, strong characters. But the author did so little with his materials.

It's something that struck me: as Christians, we can live with eternity in mind, with a goal and a purpose and, as my small group leader says, a dignity to our everyday lives. We live for Christ, our purpose is to worship him, to be "little Christs" in the world, and to demonstrate his love to others. If everything in our life is aligned to that purpose, our life is infinitely more meaningful. Without this purpose, we too would be a shadow of a wind, passing through life with no lasting effect. As a writer, I want my writing to speak of Christ in every word, to "tell the truth about the human condition," to exemplify the best traits of God. As a writer, this book showed me how not to write.

Middlemarch

For about a week before my Israel trip this summer, I looked through all my books and tried to sort out the ones I wanted to read. I had a stack of lighter reading and a stack of classics my dad gave me for Christmas. I had tried to read Vanity Fair with little success, read Portrait of a Lady (reviewed in this blog) and wasn't particularly keen on starting a new classic, which would take me months to read. But Middlemarch, by George Eliot, didn't look so bad, and I knew I wanted to expand my classics vocabulary. So I put Middlemarch in my "to read" pile, and resolved to bring it to the beach with me.

While in Israel, Middlemarch came up in casual conversation on the trip. I told myself, again, that I had to read it at the beach. In Jerusalem one night, we had dinner with a lovely family, and one of the guests, in hearing that Jane Austen was my favorite author, remarked that I should read Middlemarch, by George Eliot. "It's on my list!" I said, surprised that this same book would come up again. I returned from Israel with a new zeal to read it. It took me two months, but I finally finished it recently, and was surprised at how much I loved it!

Those who know me well know that I love Jane Austen. I've read all of her books, and love her wit and humor, along with her hysterical characters and compelling love stories. I've also seen the movies: Pride and Prejudice (both the BBC and Kiera Knightley versions), Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Emma. I love them all. I've read biographies of her, and one of my favorite movies (though it's inaccurate) is Becoming Jane. Middlemarch was recommended to me because it was similar to Jane Austen's books.

Middlemarch is written around the same time as Jane Austen's novels, but it delves into the characters lives much more extensively than Austen novels. The novel is about a town, Middlemarch, and it's inhabitants. The book opens with Dorothea Brooke, a pious, Mother Theresa-like figure, very quickly becoming engaged to Mr. Casaubon, an elderly gentleman and renowned scholar. The gap in their ages is almost comical, and several people, Dorothea's family included, object to her choice. But Dorothea has dreams of helping Mr. Casaubon in his research, and so marries him quickly. She soon realizes what a mistake she has made as Mr. Casaubon is distant and careless with her, and finds a friend in Will, Mr. Casaubon's cousin.

Rosamond Vincy is the town darling, beautiful, serene, and sensible. Her brother, Fred Vincy, is almost the opposite: he's a dandy, can't settle on a profession, and is hopelessly in love with Mary Garth, his childhood best friend. When Tertius Lydgate, an idealistic doctor with dreams of scholarly discovery and honor, comes to town, Rosamond falls in love with him. The brother and sister pair each go through their own trials of love.

All of these complicated plots are woven against the background of a busy town and many, many minor characters, all fully imagined. What was fascinating to me about Middlemarch was its span: some couples don't become engaged until the end of the book (some 800 pages) due to various plot twists, while others marry quickly. Middlemarch deals not only with courting, but with what happens after marriage, as well. Lydgate encounters debt problems, and the struggle which he and Rosamond go through is how many couples today would act. It's such a cool continuity, that debt strained a marriage in the 1800s just as it can strain a marriage today. It makes the entire novel more realistic and relatable, and fully fleshes out Rosamond and Lydgate. Their flaws are showcased under financial pressure in a very honest way. Their conflict is what takes the novel beyond a simple romance. In fact, it could be the sequel to any romantic comedy movie.

That's not to say all the romances in this novel fail. Will and Dorothea's sweet, blossoming relationship is what spurred me to read to the end. Their journey is filled with great twists and turns of plot, and brings the whole book to a satisfying, believable conclusion. Their talent for great romances are where George Eliot and Jane Austen are similar.

As is true of so many of the 19th century novels, the elegant prose and wise musings of the author beautifully complemented the story. In the hands of another author, the same story could have been vulgar or boring, but the plot and prose worked together so well under George Eliot's intricate sentences. It's one of the reasons I love the classics: nowadays, novels (especially those for teens) have fast-paced plots with bare minimum sentences. It's as though authors have a toolbox full of state-of-the-art tools in front of them, but only use a simple hand screwdriver to tell the story. Eliot, and many other writers in her time, chose their words with great purpose, and wrote their message clearly. It's something that I, as an aspiring writer, try to learn from as I read Middlemarch.

The Lost Hero

Rick Riordan's new promise- two books a year!- had me skeptical about the quality of The Lost Hero. I mean, how much attention can you devote to a novel when you're writing 576 pages in so short a time, juggling two series', no less? In particular, after the plunge in quality of The Red Pyramid, Riordan's first book in the new series The Kane Chronicles, I thought he'd peaked with the conclusion of the Percy Jackson series. Not to mention that The Lost Hero is the first of a spinoff series of Percy Jackson, and really, how good could a spinoff be? Percy Jackson ended well, all were happy, the conflicts were all resolved- what more could Riordan write about?

Well, actually, a lot. And, surprisingly, he could write it very well. The Lost Hero brings back all the fun and cleverness of Percy Jackson, with fun new characters and whole realms of information about the Greek gods and goddesses to dive into. Three new demigods are introduced: Jason, Piper, and Leo, all older teens, enrolled in a school for delinquent kids. But there's one catch: as the story opens, Jason awakens on the bus to the Grand Canyon, holding hands with Piper, listening to Leo: with no idea who they are, where they are, or even who he is. As the book goes on, and they find out the obvious- they're demigods!- yet another conundrum is introduced, one which hooks readers of the Percy Jackson series immediately: Percy Jackson is missing.

The plot follows the typical arc of Percy Jackson: the heroes go to Camp Half-Blood, receive a quest, and set out on it to appease the gods for some reason or another. This time, the reason is to fulfill the mysterious Great Prophecy that has been made about them, to stop the stirrings of a new and dangerous enemy, and discover the reason why the gods of Olympus have gone silent. Along the way, they encounter minor gods and characters from Greek mythology in adventurous escapades.

The opening is brilliant, hooking readers from the very beginning, intrigued by Jason's memory loss. And if that didn't hook the readers, the appearance of Annabeth her announcement of Percy's disappearance certainly does. The three new demigods make a good team; they're funny and complement each other well. And as an older reader, it makes me feel less geeky and childish to read these books if the characters are around my age, as they are (finally) in this book. The backwards romance between Jason and Piper (due to his memory loss) is cute, just present enough to satisfy girl readers without totally isolating the pre-teen boy audience. Though sometimes juggling three main characters is tough, Riordan seems to have no problem with it, alternating chapters from each's perspective, and creating very real characters. Not only are they ethnically diverse (Piper's half Native American, Leo's Latino), but Riordan also excels at making strong female characters: first Annabeth, now Piper. They're very different, but each can stand up for herself.

Familiar characters also abound in this one at Camp Half-Blood, though some are sadly lacking, such as Clarisse, the harsh and crazy daughter of Ares, and Grover, Percy's best friend the satyr. But old characters are brought back to play a more prominent position in the story, giving the world of Percy Jackson a fleshed-out feel.

Riordan said he decided to focus on minor gods and goddesses more in this series, and that's evident in the characters the three demigods meet on their quest. Even I, who know a lot about Greek gods and goddesses, hadn't heard of most of the gods he met. They were well-sketched, interesting, funny. Riordan manages to pack so much information about them just by their surroundings and personality that I feel I could almost base a school report off the book. I hardly feel like I'm being taught anything due to his clever presentation of the information.

Riordan took it even farther in this book by beginning to deal with the Roman gods as well, and the simultaneous existence of the two. I loved this part of the book, since the idea of Roman gods always bothered me while reading the original Percy Jackson series. My only complaint was that after a while, the constant pit-stops to meet a new minor god got old. I just wanted to find out the answers to all my questions: Where's Percy? Why can't Jason remember anything? Who are they fighting against? Why are the gods silent?

Most of these questions aren't answered until the very end. In this way, Lost Hero is dissimilar to Percy Jackson, reading more like a mystery than an adventure. Riordan drops several clues along the way, so that I had my suspicions about the mystery of Jason and the identity of the new enemy due to a history project I did two years ago... but I didn't fully get it, or guess where Percy was, until the very last sentence of the book. And what a brilliant ending it was! The whole plot worked so well, tied together so flawlessly, in such an intriguing way... I could say so much more about it, but obviously it would spoil the entire book. Suffice it to say that I'm very excited for the rest of the series!

My friend and I figured it out- we'll be in college by the time this series will end, at the rate of one book per year. We have no doubt we'll still be reading them then, too, even if the other kids make fun of us. Actually, I have no doubt that I'll still be reading many children's books and young adult books far into my college years. Immature as Riordan's humor can be, it's clean and truly funny. Though without flowery words, he creates vivid images. And young as his characters are, they're relatable and funny. All in all, one of Riordan's best, highly recommended, an excellent piece of good, clean fun!

Poison Study

From time to time, I will pop into my freshman English teacher's room during break or after school to say hi, discuss the school year, my current English class and what I think of it. Usually, the talk turns to the book we're currently reading and why we love it, which leads to book recommendations and exclamations of excitement. We both devoured The Hunger Games Trilogy: she would find me to scream and exalt over the latest twist she'd come to in the plot. On the first day of school, fresh from finishing Mockingjay, I made a beeline for her room to thoroughly discuss our reactions to the book (to read those, look down one post!). In our chat, she mentioned another book I would enjoy: Poison Study, by Maria Snyder.

I bought it a few weeks later, and started it with excitement. I wasn't disappointed. From the first page, I couldn't put the book down. I brought it to school with me and read it under my desk, sneaking pages after quizzes or when I finished something early. The premise captivated me before opening the book, and after diving in, the characters kept me fascinated, along with a fast paced plot. The premise is this: Yelena is a twenty year old girl living in a military-ruled land called Ixia. Yelena killed Reyad son of the General of her district, and is facing death when the former food taster to the Commander dies. Law states Yelena must be offered the job as an alternative to dying. She takes it, but finds herself caught up in court intrigue as well as political problems beyond what she imagined.

One of my favorite things in fantasy books that I feel can "make or break it" is a strong female character (for instance, Megan Whalen Turner's The Thief series, or The Hunger Games). Yelena is one such character. It's always refreshing to see a female who isn't helpless and in distress, and Yelena certainly takes things into her own hands throughout the book, right from the beginning. The reader is always aware that she killed Reyad, the son of the General who commanded her district, for reasons which become clear throughout the book. The guilt and other scars from his death haunt her throughout the book as we see her dealing with her self-hatred and emotional upheaval. It adds a rich layer and depth to her character that makes the story thrilling on a psychological and physical level. Yelena's clever and likeable; she thinks on her feet, is brave, and not afraid to try something new . Her subtle romance with another character is also excellently written, sneaking up on the reader as a pleasant surprise. Unlike so many young adult fiction books, the romance isn't the center of the book, nor is it hitting the reader over the head with clues leading up to their ultimate relationship; what a relief!

Though the writing isn't ornamental, or simply worth reading because of the crafted words, it doesn't hinder the story. I can think of one series of books in particular that I have read in which the plot was fascinating, but I couldn't even finish them because the writing was so terrible. Poison Study isn't remarkable in either direction.

Something that intrigued me, though not really explored in the book, is the idea of why Yelena murders Reyad. Yelena has been submitted to oppression and other darker and more awful consequences at the hands of Reyad, and so she murders him. In the book, Yelena justifies killing Reyad, because of what he's done to her. It's not discussed any further after that, though I wish it had been. True, Yelena is scarred forever by Reyad's actions, and he was awful to her. Yelena feels killing him was her only escape. It's an interesting dilemma to imagine yourself in.

Similar to The Hunger Games, Poison Study has some indefinable quality that makes it "unputdownable." The characters remain in your head, alive and interacting with each other, after you close the book. At school, putting the book down to quickly listen to a teacher was like being jerked out of one world into another, and I lingered in the world of Poison Study through out the school day, not quite focused in my own world. Unfortunately, unlike The Hunger Games, the sequel to Poison Study, Magic Study, is just okay. Gone is that extraordinary quality; the plot is too long and complicated, the romance becomes unrealistic, and somehow, interest is just lost. At the conclusion of Magic Study, I wasn't even interested in the next book. That being said, Poison Study is still so worth reading as a stand alone novel.

Mockingjay

Ever since I finished Catching Fire, book two in Suzanne Collins' magnificent series The Hunger Games, I have been dreaming up endings for the series, having the book culminate in a Harry Potter-esque final battle, losing a few favored characters. I pictured myself shedding a few tears, but being content after the revelation about the goodness of mankind and the continuation of the main characters in their happy lives.

How wrong my ending turned out to be.

Mockingjay is the third book in a trilogy by Suzanne Collins, about a futuristic world divided into 12 Districts, all under the control of the Capitol. Every year, to remind the people of what it was like before the Capitol took over, the Capitol hosts The Hunger Games, in which each district sends 2 tributes, a boy and a girl, to fight to the death in an arena. Katniss Everdeen, from the poorest District, 12, chooses to replace her little sister as the tribute. Throughout the series, her actions launch a rebellion against the Capitol.

Mockingjay came out while I was at the beach with three of my best friends. On that Tuesday, Lucy and I raced to the tiny bookstore on the island and immediately purchased our copies, excited to find out what happened to Katniss- especially as regards Peeta, who we all know is her soulmate! We both wrapped up the books we were reading then, and the next day dove straight into Mockingjay.

Right off the bat, it wasn't what I expected. After the cliffhanger ending of Catching Fire, I had pictured District 13 as a welcoming, thriving rebel base, eager to praise Katniss. Instead, I was met with the cold machine of District 13 under President Coin. And such was the case for the rest of the book: where I expected cuddly and comforting, I got cold and harsh. Where I expected neatly wrapped and tied up, I got messy and confusing. Where I expected love, I got hate. Suffice it to say that Mockingjay was a very depressing book to read for one with expectations as fairy-tale as mine. It wasn't that the plot threw twists and turns at every opportunity, but rather that to my well-read mind, I thought I knew the general flavor of this book. Isn't every dramatic conclusion to a series filled with danger, but also a confidence in winning the battle? Isn't there a certainty that your main character won't die? Isn't there an epilogue showing everything right in the world after a climactic battle? Think again, Abby. Suzanne Collins follows no pattern.

As I became more and more entrenched in the book, things got worse. Nothing went according to plan, and hope of my surviving the overthrow of the Capitol seemed grim. As things built towards a final battle and people began dying, I fell deeper into a depressed mindset. How could Suzanne Collins allow these things to happen? How did this work towards a happy ending?

It was then I realized that it didn't. Collins, unlike me, doesn't believe in fairy-tale endings. She believes in realistic endings. This became all the more clear as I read to the very end. Finishing the book curled up in my bed, I just lay there, thinking it over, reliving the vivid battle scenes, feeling numb. Numb because I didn't want things to end this way. Numb because so many people I loved died. Numb because the cruelty of some people astonished me. And numb because Katniss is numb. What Collins does in the ending shows a masterful understanding of the human psyche, something that has intrigued me after finishing this book. Collins truly understands the effects of being put into an arena to fight to the death (twice). She understands the hatred and harshness that develops in you because of it, and that is why in one particular scene it seems as though all the work of the rebels resulted only in falling back into the same patterns of the Games. She understands that the bond of Katniss and Peeta runs so deep because of their experiences together in the arena. And so, while it isn't a happy ending, it is a realistic ending. Where Hunger Games was a sci-fi, action book, and Catching Fire a love triangle, Mockingjay is simply hard truths, hard decisions, hard hearts. Excellent, yes, the right end to the series. But a hard book to read.

As an aspiring author and an unabashed romantic, it's so hard for me to have anything but a fairy-tale ending for my characters. I so badly want everything to turn out right, everything to fix itself. It comes from my love of Disney movies and Elsie Dinsmore books and Taylor Swift songs and Jane Austen novels, which I've loved from an early age. It's resulted in my expectations of real life to be just like a fairy-tale, which it isn't. Time and time again, I've been disappointed that life didn't turn out the way I expected: when I didn't get my Hogwarts letter, when Peter Pan didn't appear in my window one night, when I started high school and wasn't accosted by cute boys, when I got a ticket within the first few months of getting my license and had to go to court. I'm trying to learn the difference between fiction, fairy-tales, and real life. Because for a dreamer like me, it's hard to live in the real world when your world is a fairy-tale.

Blood Brothers

About a year and a half ago, my dad co-founded a non-profit organization to educate faith-based American leaders about the Israel-Palestine conflict. About once every two months, he takes influential American leaders over to the Holy Land, giving them a tour much richer than a typical pilgrimage to ancient, empty sites. The group meets with people of all different backgrounds- Israeli-Arabs, Jewish Israelis, Palestinian Muslims, Palestinian Christians. Government officials, non-profit owners, wealthy businessmen, community-center owners, farmers, workers. By the end of the week, the goal is to understand that each side has its rights and wrongs, has been wronged, has a claim to the land… and that taking one side or the other is detrimental and only serves to further the conflict.

I went on such a trip with my Dad this summer, eager to see what he does when he’s gone. I've seen the pictures he's taken, and heard the stories he's told, but none of the names or faces seemed real to me: they were just stories. The problem seemed distant to me, a high schooler who's more concerned about my social life than social injustice. But I was interested, if only because my dad has dedicated years to this and truly cares about the people embroiled in this conflict. We would go to Nazareth and Haifa in Galilee, Nablus, Romallah, Jerusalem, Hebron, and Bethlehem, all in a week, both in Israel and the West Bank.

Having next to no background knowledge on the subject, Dad gave me “homework” before I left: two documentaries (which I have yet to watch), and a book: Blood Brothers, by Elias Chacour. I started on the book first, thinking it was more portable, and therefore I could get it over with quickly. But once I started, I was mesmerized. Blood Brothers is no boring history of Israel for the past sixty years- instead, it’s the personal story of now Archbishop Elias Chacour, a Palestinian Christian who’s village of Biram was evacuated by the Israeli army in the late 1940s, and who has tirelessly worked for peace between Israelis and Palestinians for his whole life. It’s a fairly balanced perspective, neither pro-Israeli or pro-Palestinian (although it leans a bit towards Palestinians). After reading it, I was in awe of the life Chacour has lead, of the difference he had made in his community of Ibillin, on the thinking of others, and of his forgiveness of the Israelis, Mandela-like in it’s magnanimity. Imagine my excitement when I was told we would meet him Monday, our very first day in Israel!

Clutching Blood Brothers, I boarded the bus with the rest of the group, assuring them how much I admired Chacour, how amazing Blood Brothers was, and how excited I was to meet him. We drove from Nazareth to Haifa, a beautiful town by the Sea of Galilee. There, we entered a cool marble house, ascended the stairs to a large meeting room, and sat in wait of Chacour.

His entrance was modest, quietly shaking hands with the members of the group, but his words were anything but. His manner of speaking was surprising for an Archbishop: he’s witty, outspoken- sassy, in essence, although that isn’t a typical description of an Archbishop! He spoke clearly to us of the need for our solidarity in America. “If you have come here to be pro-Palestinian or pro-Israeli, if you have come here to take sides, I hope you have a nice trip, enjoy your time, but go home and don’t do us any more harm. But if you’ve come here and are willing to stand in solidarity with both, we need your help. Come be pro-Palestinian and pro-Israeli.”

This is most of the group with Archbishop Chacour; he is the one standing next to me, in the middle.

This actually sums up the entire trip, the purpose behind the work my dad does. It was a great way to kick off the point of views we were yet to hear; the touchstone and solid foundation to which we would compare everything we heard from this point forward. And believe me, when so many different views are all compelling and all logical, it becomes very difficult to sort out everything. For instance:

In Ramallah, a West Bank town where many higher Palestinian officials are based, we met with Hanan Ashrawi, a remarkable woman who has fought for women’s rights for years and years, who is very knowledgeable and influential not only in her own country, but in the USA (she also has a Ph.D. from the University of Virginia!). She talked at length of the difficulties women in the Gaza strip have as the government now requires women to cover their heads when they go out in public, and how the public is resentful. She talked of the need for a two-state solution, that the USA must help in negotiations by supporting Israel and Palestine, by encouraging both sides to enter into negotiation there. And she spoke of how the basic human dignity of the Palestinians is violated by the Israeli military occupation of the Palestinian Territories. Ashrawi was compelling, feminine and powerful. She shared with us the stories of her children, who had been raised there but went to the USA for college. One of her daughters married while in America, and while pregnant, wanted to go back home to visit her parents. The Israelis refused to give her a visa, saying that "Jerusalem was no longer the center of her life," even though she had grown up there, her entire family lived there, it was her home, her ancestors had lived there- but because she was away for four years, she was not allowed back.

Two days later, we met with Dani Dyan, the head of the YESHA council, or the settler movement, in Jerusalem at the famous King David Hotel. After Israel took control of the West Bank and Gaza in the 1967 Six Day War, Israelis began moving into these areas and establishing "settlements," which essentially makes a two-state solution difficult. There are settlements deep in the West Bank, and the problem of what to do with them is one of the biggest obstacles to a two-state solution. A town called Hebron in the West Bank is a good example of this. For centuries, Jews and Arabs lived together in Hebron, a town of deep significance to both because this is where the Tomb of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob and Leah are all located. When European Jews, with different customs, dress, and languages began arriving there in the early 1900s tensions arose. In 1927, there was a false rumor that Jews were trying to take over the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Hearing this, several Palestinians in the Hebron area turned on the Jews of Hebron and brutally massacred 67 of them in 1927. The Jews left the village, but returned decades later, after the 1967 War, reclaiming the land of their forefathers who were murdered. About 60 families now live in the center of the town, at the cost of shutting down around 1,000 Palestinian shops, and creating streets which only Jews can be on. The town is, in effect, run by the Israeli army, divided cleanly between Jewish settlers and Palestinian. To get to the Palestinian parts of town, we had to go through a "checkpoint," meaning our passports were checked by the military and we had to walk through a scanner.

A sign we walked by in the Jewish part of Hebron which speaks clearly of the tension in Hebron.

There is a deep contrast between the Palestinian and Jewish parts of Hebron: The Jewish section is large, empty streets and empty shops. But the Palestinian section is crammed with cars, people, markets. There are no tourist-y things in the markets there: no one comes to that part of town. We walked through the markets, and stopped at this place:

Above the market, bricks and chairs and bottles the Jewish settlers have thrown down on the Palestinians

This screen is above the marketplace, filled with rocks, bricks, trash, and even old lawn chairs that the Jewish settlers have thrown down on the Palestinian markets. The screen doesn't catch everything, though. The settlers will throw hot oil, urine, and acid on the markets.

It was one of the most tense situations I've ever been in. I came away full of horror at the idea that children grow up in this environment of hatred and violence- what kind of a childhood is one where you are taught to hate your neighbors? How can a child grow up with acids and rocks being thrown at him, with soldiers regulating which side of the street he walks on, with check points and walls, and not grow up hating Israel? How can a child be taught that his neighbors killed his ancestors, that they are dirty murderers, that he should throw things at them because they aren't people, they're less than that, and not grow up hating Palestinians? How can you subject a child to such a grown-up issue?

A Palestinian shop, shut down and graffitied by the Jewish settlers in Hebron

We met with the settlements leader Dani Dyan right after visiting Hebron. His point of view was different from what we had heard thus far on the trip, but an important one, since it is shared by many. He was charismatic and firmly believed what he said. He didn't think the two state solution was possible or even needed: Israel had taken this land, and the Palestinians had no prior claim to it. Another very valid obstacle to the two state solution is the history of Palestinian terrorism and suicide bombing. How can Israel trust the Palestinian government to keep every single terrorist under control when the West Bank is a pressure-cooker of hatred and violence? The overwhelming majority of Palestinians don't want a war, it's true, and would do everything in it's power to avoid one, but it seems unavoidable that someone would slip through. But in talking of the possibility of a one-state solution, the ideas of birth rates and majorities were brought up. Israel wants a Jewish majority state, but Arab birth rates are higher than Jewish birthrates, and it is predicted that Arabs will be a majority soon. When pressed as to whether he would prefer to have a democratic rule in Israel, or a majority Jewish state, he dismissed it easily, saying that he believed there would not be an Arab majority. When the origin of the conflict was discussed, he maintained a firm stand that the fault of the conflict was all the Palestinians: that the Palestinians simply acted irrationally when their land was invaded. Frankly, it seemed as if he has created a universe in which Arabs practically don't even exist!

But of all the things he said, the point that resonated with me, and that we heard so often in every Israeli perspective was that in a two-state solution, Israel could not trust Palestine on it's own. The suicide bombings show the utter desperation of some Palestinians to make their cause known, but using this reprehensible and entirely unjustifiable tactic has undermined their cause and made the possibility of peace so difficult! So many Israelis were affected by the suicide bombings to the extent that everyone has a story, either of themselves or of someone they know, in a suicide bombing. Israel's greatest challenge in the peace talks will be to trust Palestine with an airport and a police force and some kind of sovereignty; the challenge for Palestinians is to earn that trust.

Friday nights in Jerusalem are unusually silent and peaceful, no cars or buses driving by. This is because of the holy Sabbath, the shabbat. For our shabbat, the group went to a local synagogue for services. The rooms were crowded with all ages, from the elderly to toddlers, all singing beautiful traditional Jewish songs of worship. Everyone knows these songs by heart, sings them all together in one beautiful, shouting chorus of praise and harmony. After the service, we split up into groups of two and ate the special shabbat meal with members of the synagogue. My dad and I ate with a family originally from New York, who were incredibly welcoming and gracious in opening their home and delicious meal to us! It was one of my favorite nights of the trip, as we discussed their everyday lives in the midst of conflict. Their devout faith resonated deeply throughout the evening: God was so real to them, and the complex rituals of the dinner were so important to them because of their deep symbolism. They were not simply going through the motions; they were thinking of what they did. It was a night of much laughter, delicious food, fascinating religious discussion, and stories of everyday life. They are a family I will never forget.

We met with many others: Danny ben Simon, a member of the Israeli Knesset, or parliament, Munib Masri, a wealthy Palestinian employer, Nassir, a Nablus architect who ran a cultural center, two American Consulate officers, two journalists, Danny Seidemann, an expert on Jerusalem, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, and many others. Of all these, however, some that I feel I must share with you are the Christians we met. We spent a day with the Christians in Bethlehem, and the work they are doing there is not only amazing, but vital to all people there. Christian presence is dwindling in the Holy Land as young Christians leave to seek safer homes or better opportunities. As our friend Danny Seidemann, said, "The Christian community is like the canary in the coal mine. If the Christian community is ill, we are all ill. We just don't know it yet." However, the Christians remaining are zealous and dedicated, a vital influence in the dark days of occupation.

We visited Bethlehem Bible College in Bethlehem and heard of the work they're doing in the community, educating Christians and Muslims alike, preparing Christians for a very real vocation in the Holy Land. They just added a new building, with classrooms and a theater, to be shared with the community around them. It's a great ministry of love that's really neat to hear about. Directly from there, we visited Sister Sophie's orphanage, next to the Sisters of Charity Hospital, filled with beautiful babies from 2 months old to 5 years old. Sister Sophie loves these children, as do all the people who work there. They are so committed to creating a loving environment and finding a loving home for every child. It's vital work, requiring a lot of sacrifice- on the day we visited, the orphanage had been without running water for 25 days, as had many others in Bethlehem, due to the fact that water will shut off unexpectedly there. In the heat of August, water is vital, and they don't have easy access to it.

The group with Sister Sophie at the orphanage.

Sister Sophie and I.

From Sister Sophie's, we went to the International Center of Bethlehem to meet with Mitri Raheb, pastor of the Christmas Church in Bethlehem, and founder of the International Center of Bethlehem. The Center is devoted to creating an outlet for the community, and teaches arts like theater, music, dance, painting, etc to Christians and Muslims, too. In fact, a young waiter at our hotel, bright and excited, happened to mention that his hobby was making stained glass, a skill he had learned at the Center!

We visited a school for troubled girls, run by the Sisters of Charity, on the Mount of Olives outside Jerusalem. The girls all live nearby, but when the Wall was built, it cut off many students from their families and volunteers from their homes. Where before, they could easily move back and forth, they now have to go through a checkpoint every day, which could take hours or minutes, unpredictably. But one of the biggest problems is the proximity of the Wall. Extending out from the Wall, there is a "military zone," that soldiers watch constantly. They don't know how far the zone extends, but their property is close enough that soldiers could be on their property at anytime, even engaging in combat there. The girls' playground is right next to the Wall, and it is in the "military zone" as well. These are the difficulties the Christians are faced with on an everyday basis.

The Wall, just outside the playground for the young girls.

Two final examples of the Christians in the Holy Land: First, Father (Abuna) Firas, our friend who joined my family in Wyoming on vacation earlier this summer. He operates in Jifna, a West Bank town near Ramallah. Originally from Jordan, he knew he wanted to be a priest at age 12, and so journeyed to the Holy Land. He has a parish in Jifna, and has started a school there, St. Joseph's Parish School, for K-8. His school is funded in part by the Holy Land Christian Society, and even has a computer lab! Father Firas is full of energy, runs everywhere, and has accomplished so much during his short time in Jifna. He is full of zeal for God's work and full of love for the people of Jifna.

We then met with Daoud Nassir, a gentle farmer who is currently fighting for ownership of his farmland, the land his family has lived on for hundreds of years. He runs a non-profit called "Tent of Nations" on his farm, running summer camps for kids, offering a place for foreign groups to stay and help on the farm, etc. He has faced much hatred from the Israeli army and settlements surrounding the farm, but he lives by the phrase "We refuse to be enemies," and treats everyone he meets with gentle respect- a Christlike example of peace in a time so divided and torn. He faces many challenges: his court case about his land has been going on for nearly 2 decades. Once, a group of angry Jewish settlers came to his farm in the middle of the night and uprooted 250 olive trees. But Daoud isn't discouraged or retributive. God provides for him: a Jewish human rights group from Europe read of the olive trees and came to plant 250 new ones! His work is to love everyone, regardless of faith or nationality, and it is changing people's lives. A few Jewish settlers have even come to meet him at gatherings he hosts at his house, and have come away simply astounded at his love.

The outreach of the church is astounding; it is an example of the truth that under persecution and oppression, the church blossoms. The church truly lives by the ideals of faith, hope, and love.

Faith in God, in His plan and His mercy and His protection.

Hope for an end to the conflict and peace.

And Love for all: Israelis, Palestinians, Arabs, Jews, Muslims, Christians, and soldiers, living together in the Holy Land.

Truly, these are the ingredients for peace in the Holy Land.

The Help

I started seeing it everywhere. At first, it only appeared at the pool, in the hands of one woman sunbathing. Then, I saw it at my piano studio: two ladies opening it whenever their child was in a lesson. At a visit to Borders, where it was prominently featured. Finally, it reached the hands of my neighbor and good friend, with a gold embossed cover. The Help, it was simply titled. What a mysterious title! As my good friend put it, "It could have been some spiritual help book, or some wierd thing about divine intervention." But my other good friend insisted, "Abby, read it. It is the best book I've ever read."

So, I hiked down to Borders and bought myself a copy of The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. It turns out, this is not a self-help book about divine intervention or spiritual guidance. It is instead an accurate (I think) and moving portrait of racial tension and discrimination during the 1960s in Birmingham, Alabama. Skeeter, a skinny, upper class white woman with higher aspirations than to simply marry and be a housewife, feels out of place with her childhood friends after returning to college. She misses Constantine, the "help" her family hired and who practically raised her, and begins to realize the incongruencies of social life in Birmingham. Then there's Aibileen, a steadfast, "colored" woman, hired to raise the children in wealthy families, who witnesses the sad neglect of many of these children, and her best friend, sassy Minnie, who can't control her impertinent manner but bakes like no other. These three women, all in completely different situations, join together on a project that is dangerous and revealing, all the while juggling the struggles of their individual lives.

To make a truly excellent book, I think you need three things. The first, believable, real characters who carry the story with their characterized actions. The second, a good plot, with interesting events, rising action, and an excellent climax or conclusion. And the third (and it should be confessed that this is by no means my own idea) is an element of truth about the world. The Help has all three.

First, the characters: the world of Birmingham's social scene is completely realized, with excellent, real characters. Aibileen and Minnie are wonderfully funny, sharp, sweet characters, both of whom I fell in love with as I read. Minnie is sassy, cracking jokes or retorts that made me laugh out loud! And Aibileen's patience and calm demeanor make her a character I admire.But Skeeter, who could be argued to be the main character, fell flat in some places. She lacked dimension as a character, and depth, although clearly thoughtful and clever. Skeeter moves the plot, but she somehow isn't as lovable as Aibileen or Minnie. Her character isn't as clearly drawn or predictable in that familiar way. But the supporting characters of Birmingham bring the city to life in their very real, very human reactions to many of the problems brought up in the book.

The plot, while not fast paced, is excellent, ripe with funny or sad incidents to further character development, and all building to a revolutionizing climax of ideas for the three women. I couldn't stop reading- I was so eager to discover what would happen to these women. And again, this is a mark of the character strength; I genuinely cared for them. And while a story taking place in Birmingham in the 1960s can be scary and dark, this book remains powerfully moving while keeping the examples of prejudice light and the humor peppered throughout in careful portions.

Finally, the element of truth. Well. Katherine Stockett, the author of The Help, grew up in Birmingham, Alabama, in the time period she wrote about. Stockett had the access and the knowledge to create a realistic portrait of Birmingham, and indeed she does. But that's not the only true element of the book. The truth of prejudice is revealed as in no other book I've read, in that very basic prejudice which we excuse as 'better' for the other party or we assume without thinking. And it tells the truth of the human nature, of kindness triumphing over pressure and of great goals which will be met, no matter what. It doesn't preach or rant or rave, but simply shows the reader through the stories of so many different people, stories both heartwarming and appalling.

When these three elements combine, they make a truly moving and excellent book. Small wonder it's been on the bestseller list! This is the sort of versatile book that can be read as serious reading or summer beach reading! You almost don't realize how much you're learning, which in the summer break from school is a good thing. And while the troubles in Birmingham may seem outdated, the choices the characters face and make resonate through the decades with our own choices today, over different issues. I highly recommend reading this book for an enjoyable, enlightening (in the light sense) and empowering read.

The Spider and Fly

Just a little insight into what the Deatherage family spent their time doing while in Wyoming!

The Spider and the Fly

Written by the Deatherage family for John and Mary Kay Turner

July 2010

There once was a fly who buzzed in the house

(yes, the one where we caught the mouse)

its wings beat fast, it bumped into the glass

and it drove the whole family nuts, oh yes

it drove the whole family nuts.

There once was a spider who patiently spun

A web in the corner that sparkled with sun

It sat unperturbed, the web undisturbed,

And backed up in wait of its prey, oh yes,

It backed up in wait of its prey.

Then suddenly the fly hit the window and fell

It plummeted down with an insect’s small yell

And fell in the trap, the web that would wrap

Its silvery strands o’er the fly, oh yes,

Its silvery strands o’er the fly.

Expectant and hungry, the spider stood by,

Watching the misery of the poor fly

When the spider came running, the fly with great cunning

Did flap and twitch his trapped wings, oh yes

Did flap and twitch his trapped wings.

Then suddenly with a great effort and heave,

The fly shot forward, desperate to leave

At last cried, I’m free! But ‘twas not meant to be

The fly snapped back into the web, oh yes,

The fly snapped back into the web.

The captive twitched and buzzed in great panic,

At the thought of the spider, cruel and manic

The cause seemed lost, at too great a cost,

But the story had not finished yet, oh yes,

The story had not finished yet.

The spider with joy thought, “the victory’s won!”

But suddenly the fly’s bindings fell, undone

The fly tumbled out with a gleeful shout

The jubilant captive set free, oh yes,

The jubilant captive set free!

Peace Like a River

Since the day before school officially let out, the Deatherage family has been traveling together. We loaded up our big, color-changing Suburban and drove across the very long state of Tennessee until we reached Fifty-Six, Arkansas, the town where my dad grew up. My uncles, aunts, third cousins, great aunts, and great uncles came in from all over the country for the Family Reunion. We all converged with a great crush of hugs and kisses and exclamations, “Abby, is that you? You’re so big now!” “Little Zachary, the last time I saw you, you were only this big!” For the family I don’t know very well, the reunion provides a very cool time to get to know them. For the family I’ve grown up with, know, and love, the unconditional love is so soothing to be surrounded by. There’s no pressure on me to be cool, or funny, or fun to be with. I’m simply myself. That’s the best kind of family you can have.

Now, the six Deatherages are in Wyoming, tucked in a little house within the Tetons on Triangle X Ranch. It’s beautiful, majestic country, unspoiled by human development. The ranch sits in a glacier-made valley, surrounded by bunches of sage-brush and trees. As I write this, I can see rocky, jagged mountains, snow clinging to their peaks. They hang in the sky, wisps of clouds surrounding them, and seem all too divine to be a part of this rugged earth. Horses graze on the other side of me. Real cowboys stride past, confident, drawling, competent.

Surrounded by such country, who could resist writing about cowboys? Leif Enger, the author of Peace Like a River, lives in Montana, which I’m certain is just as beautiful. To me, it’s no small wonder that both of his books have maintained a delicious flavor of the true Western spirit. While not outwardly an actual outlaw, cowboy showdown Western, Peace Like a River resonates with adventure and romance. The Land family is the central focus of the novel: Swede, the youngest, is spunky, bright, and forceful. Reuben, the narrator, has weak lungs, and as a result is one of the weakest in the family. Though older than Swede, he follows her lead meekly. The oldest is Davy, handsome, headstrong, and cocky. And the cornerstone of the family is the Dad, a man of amazing faith, who walks with God in the same way Enoch was said to do in the Old Testament. Little miracles happen with him around, but they don’t make the Land’s life perfect. In fact, it ends up just the opposite when Davy goes to jail for shooting two boys, out for revenge on the Land family. When he escapes from jail, the family sets out after him on a literal and figurative journey of faith.

Peace Like a River is one of those books you just want to luxuriate in. I read each sentence carefully, just because Enger’s language is so beautiful. His descriptions are innovative, fresh, and beautiful, and his prose clear and figurative at the same time. You’re not drowning in metaphor, but swimming through a clear pond as you read. And the characters and so enjoyable and real. Swede is probably my favorite, though she rivals Roxanna. On a side note, Swede aspires to be an author, and we’re treated to some of her poems, which are excellent! Enger should have been a poet! Swede’s verses are clever, and so is her dialogue. The family feels like your own, like the cousins you always look forward to being with. And if that’s not reason enough to read it, it’s also a book I feel I could analyze forever and still not grasp the depth.

Strong themes resonate through the text; some are of family, of that binding love and “through-thick-and-thin” commitment. Reading this during the family reunion only served to strengthen my notice of this particular theme. Dovetailing family is forgiveness: the Land family has to deal with the consequences of Davy’s actions and forgive him, as well as those out to capture him. And the strong thread, twining everything together, the solid foundation of the story, is faith. The Land family’s faith supports them through every problem they encounter, and Enger’s portrayal of their faith is realistic. He doesn’t assume or imply that because of their faith, they are shielded from every bad thing. He simply shows a family walking in faith in the good and the bad. It’s something I love about the book, an accurate and encouraging example of real-life faith.

Beautiful in it’s language, depth, and clever characters, Peace Like a River’s element of faith is the best aspect of the book and a compelling Christian example of walking in faith. Reading it, God become near and powerful, not a distant majestic power. Although the characters are fiction, I see them as a role model for living in faith in daily life. What must it feel like to wake up every single morning knowing that only God can control your day? Isn’t that how we should feel every single day? I can only say that as I walk in my faith, Peace Like a River will remain a beautiful example to me of true faith.

Girl with a Pearl Earring

One of my best friends and I love to watch Jane Austen-y movies together. From sixth grade on, I became obsessed with Pride and Prejudice or The Importance of Being Earnest, and my friend quickly fell in love with them when I introduced them to her about 2 years ago. Since then, we make a point of watching these movies together. One day, on iTunes, I got a bit carried away watching movie trailers, clicking through the "related movies" section, until I found a trailer for Girl with a Pearl Earring. I eagerly texted my friend after watching it, knowing this was one we had to watch. It turned out, she had it sitting in her basement, so we started watching it one day.

It was confusing, sort of boring, and practically a silent movie, there was so little dialogue. We stopped about halfway through, and next to nothing had happened. So we left it, not continuing for months afterwards.

Then, about a week ago, I was looking for a good book to read during school finals, and while browsing the family bookshelf, Girl with a Pearl Earring caught my eye. I took it for finals, and quickly finished it. It's the story behind the famous Vermeer painting, of the girl and the circumstances which led to her being painting. It's a quiet story, so I suppose the absence of dialogue in the movie fits, and a well crafted and imagined one. The problem exists in the hinge of the story: that Griet, the "girl with a pearl earring," and her master, Vermeer, have a special, almost romantic relationship.

They barely talk: she's a serving girl in his household, he's a painter who works all day in a locked room. She feels a special connection to him and his paintings, an awe of his brilliance, which is entirely understandable since he's Vermeer, of course. But for some unexplainable and odd reason, Vermeer also is attracted to her. How is it possible that Vermeer would take an active interest in the feelings and thoughts of a normal servant girl, not really out of the ordinary, all before painting her? Griet's feelings of admiration are understandable, her slight crush on him excusable, but Vermeer's interest in Griet as anything other than a painting subject: that is where the story loses it's grip on reality. And that's a shame, because the relationship between Griet and Vermeer is one on which the story hinges.

The other problem with the story is that it's just that: a story. I finished having read an interesting story, but wondering what the point was. What moral was there to be drawn from this book? Don't be seduced by your master? Marry for security and don't bother with love? There is no great theme in this book or purpose other than simply the story, and that is definitely the book's worst failing. This book will not change anyone's life; it won't leave the reader thinking afterwards; it won't speak to the deeper humanity within us. As my father and our family friend are always saying, "Good books tell the truth about the human condition." What does this book say about the human condition? I found nothing. So, I have to conclude that this is not a good book.

Additionally, I haven't finished the movie yet, though it isn't promising. We'll see if it's better than the book, although movies rarely are. And though I didn't learn anything or think deeper about this book, I did learn exactly what not to write, and how careful the balance between a good story and a true story must be walked.

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

I am a lefty. It's not something I define myself by, or an interesting fact I would share about myself, but somehow, people will undoubtedly notice and comment on the fact. When I was in kindergarten until second grade, learning to form letters and numbers, teachers would attempt to teach me how to grip my pencil or form my letters the right way, not backwards. During this time of my life, I got a lot of comments on my left-handedness from classmates. The most memorable one was in second grade, when a know-it-all told me that being left-handed meant I had a twin in the womb, but he or she died during the pregnancy.

Haunted by this, I went home and thought long and hard about what it would have been like to have a twin. I felt like I should have remembered losing this twin in the womb, or felt some sense of loneliness as I grew up alone. With a twin, would I have been less social? Would we dress alike? Would he or she have shared my love of reading, or would we be opposites? I would have had an automatic best friend and advocate, a partner in crime and someone else to fight with in our already large family. The idea was appealing, but after some time, I decided I was content to be alone, myself.

Imagine how you would feel if you actually did have a twin who had died at birth. Or was still alive. That's one of the situations explored in The Memory Keeper's Daughter, a Jodi Picoult-esque novel chronicling the ripples of a decision made by Dr. David Henry on the night his wife, Norah, gives birth to twins, one with Down Syndrome. Dr. Henry, on realizing that the girl, Phoebe, has Down's Syndrome, quickly hands her to Caroline, the nurse for the delivery, and tells her to take the girl to an institution for children like her. Instead, Caroline disappears with Phoebe to raise her as her daughter. David tells his wife that their little girl was stillborn, and raises their son Paul as though this were the case.

The effect that this decision has on each of their lives is explored thoroughly and for some, painfully, in this book. Norah sinks into depression, anger, and frustration, David into similar emotions which drive them apart. Their sinking marriage in turn causes strife for Paul in his teenage years, driving him to bad decisions and resulting in overwhelming loneliness for the entire family. Conversely, Caroline meets a man, Al, and happily marries him, raising Phoebe with tender love and care. The opposite pictures of family life, from happy and loving to distant and affair-ridden, speak of the deepest kind of irony: that David Henry thought his family would be happier without his daughter.

Accompanied by beautiful prose, the characters' lives undergo a complicated journey, hard to follow, and very sad. To watch one family fall apart is miserable, while at the same time, I wished for even more telling of Caroline, Al, and Phoebe's happy life. Though the story, at times, drags or feels pointless, the language always is rich and full of imagery, making it more enjoyable. However, the language felt a bit out of place within the grittiness of the story, and often, descriptions seem to be contradictory or repetitive. The attempt was appreciated; the execution, a bit off.

The trouble is, at the conclusion of the book, there is no real redemption for many of the characters. The ending, while satisfying enough, doesn't promise a change in many of the lifestyles, and forgiveness, while possible, doesn't seem near. Realistic in some ways, yes, but I longed for a full solution to many of the problems. Funnily enough, though, perhaps the best part of the book was the very end, when (**SPOILERS**) Phoebe and Paul meet. To watch his prejudices regarding Down's Syndrome melt away and change was the most interesting and beautiful part for me. Society still as a whole seems to be prejudiced against Down's Syndrome, and I know I certainly am. To look at them in a book without the label of their face, just as their dialogue and surroundings certainly made me rethink my perspective on Down's Syndrome. I was reminded that they have thoughts and feelings just like mine, they just express them in a different way. It was a great, eye-opening moment.

But couldn't the rest of the book have been similarly themed? I felt the author missed so many opportunities to create a truly meaningful portrait against Down's Syndrome prejudice, or just as a way to educate the audience about it. But the book got bogged down in the depression and problems of the other characters, without spending enough time on Phoebe or her life. With this addition, this book could have been pushed past simple fiction and into a much more powerfully moving book.