lory_enterenchanted's Reviews (582)

This started out strong, with a powerful voice and absorbing stories of the tensions experienced in growing up pulled between languages and cultures. Love for family shines through on every page, with mourning for the tragic losses to AIDS and drugs that too often had to be silenced by shame, and rejoicing in the vivid aliveness of their best times. 

Later on, I found something was less satisfying. As a precocious genius who was apparently writing music better than Scriabin without half trying, I had a hard time relating to Quiara. And something seemed to be missing, as though she were withholding important information. I found the four times she experienced possession somewhat concerning. While leaving room for cultural difference, I wonder whether the spirits that take people over in that way could really be benign. This was one of the aspects where I felt something was missing. 

I'd enjoyed the first in this series, but not any of the others, so when I saw this one had a theatrical connection I picked it up for my Reading the Theatre month on the blog. It turned out not to be a very strong choice in that category, with the glimpse into vaudeville life brief and depressing. Overall it was a story that jumped about episodically among various characters and incidents in an unsatisfying way.

I wanted to highlight practically every sentence in this little book. Nouwen's spirituality is a pretty exact match for my own (except with far more depth of lived wisdom and more beautifully expressed). I was especially struck by the idea that the deepest human need and longing is to give oneself for others, and that our death can be a gift to others, if we live it the right way. To truly grasp this would seem to be the "change of heart and mind" that we are called to in Christian baptism. And yet how far most of us are from that recognition, that utter turning-on-its head of our usual egoistic ways, even spiritual ways that seek self-development and self-realization and self-saving. What if our self is only a letter in a great story ... a story we cannot read until we step back to view the whole ... Nouwen's words bring me closer to that possibility.

I especially appreciate his clear statement that there is no "afterlife," as a separate condition from our earthly life, but only a fuller revelation of what we are already living now. He says that for many people, their efforts to survive get in the way of living. This is the crux of the Christian message in my opinion, and yet again, how little we live according to it.

The reasons why he failed in his stated goal of writing for "secular" people are interesting, and I wonder if anyone has taken on this particular challenge successfully. How can those who see no necessity for the sacred understand those who do? Can this widening gap ever be bridged? How can people come to see that we come from elsewhere into this world - that our true life is not of this world? I can't imagine NOT seeing that -- and maybe I am wrong, and the secular people are right. But if there is even a chance that I am right, then I feel there is a duty to try to communicate the message. And yet, how, when there seems to be no common ground?

It would seem as though love could be a common element that all people share, an irreducible human need -- but there are those who see no need to feel loved by "God" and have no experience of a disembodied loving spirit, which is why talking about being "the beloved of God" has no meaning for them. Can we practice loving one another and forget about "God," the idea of which too often leads to violence, not love? Maybe we'll reach the divine some day, if we set our notions of God aside and focus on the practical, day to day reality of what love means for vulnerable, developing humans. 

This was such a treat for fans of behind-the-scenes theatre stories. On every page a famous name (what can you expect, she's the daughter of Richard Rodgers) yet it never feels pretentiously name-droppy, it just brings them all to raucous and often disreputable life, from Lenny (Bernstein) and Steve (Sondheim) on down. These were real people whom we made into gods, but Mary has no respect for anyone, except where it is due to their art, and dishes the dirt with abandon, including about herself. Do not read if you don't want your illusions broken, but do read if you want to laugh a lot. I had to check contradictory boxes, because often it's quite dark and sad, yet the writing is invariably hilarious (what a voice this woman has!), and also somehow inspiring and hopeful, because Mary will not let life get her down. 

The collaboration was brilliantly done, kudos to Jesse Greene for being the best kind of amaneusis, and for the unmissable footnotes - do not skip them.

This was my first Phryne Fisher mystery, read for its theatrical theme (for Reading the Theatre 2023). I enjoyed the parts about the production of Ruddigore, but the solution to the mystery was not very compelling - the revelation of the first murderer came out of nowhere, the investigators having gotten nowhere near it, and the revelation of the second also came through a bit last-minute. The subplot with Phryne's new Chinese lover seemed tacked on, although I suppose the connection was the neighborhood of the theatre? I'm not that invested in reading other books of the series, after this one.

The life of a Holocaust survivor is always a deep subject, but this is maybe the first time I can remember reading a treatment of it I'd call "slight." Alice Herz-Sommer is clearly an amazing woman who has inspired many, but I couldn't get much of a sense for her from the book, which largely consists of descriptions of other people, bland statements of how wonderful Alice's playing was (it's difficult to make descriptions of music evocative), wise words that are very true but nothing that hasn't been said more eloquently than others, and so forth. Almost nothing about her experiences during the Holocaust, which she did not want to dwell on for understandable reasons, but again this leached the book of much of the drama it could have had. 

I read this just after a book set in Saudi Arabia, and the idealization of Israel as a miraculous refuge clashed painfully with the bitter attitude of the displaced Palestinians. Alice wishes vaguely for peace, and believes everyone can get along, but that so far has not been enough to solve the conflict. 

I think it would be more effective to actually see the film about Alice, so I may seek that out.

Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle

A collection of short fiction by the inimitable Diana Wynne Jones. Visit the blog for a post with "if you liked this story, then read ..." suggestions:  https://enterenchanted.com/unexpected-magic-celebrating-the-final-edition-of-march-magics/

This had some interesting information but the author's style was frustrating (desperately in need of a good editor). Her personality was also not very sympathetic, which is fatal in a memoir. She was so obsessed with designer objects, while I did not care to hear about the Bulgari jewelry and Gucci shoes or whatever. She was also constantly describing people as "Caucasian" or light-skinned as a mark of their beauty, which was regrettable.

I was much more interested in her spiritual experiences in Mecca, but I could get no impression of her spiritual life at all. It seemed to be indescribable, but again, if you're going to write a memoir you need to be able to describe things. All she could say was that she met her Maker in the presence of the Ka'aba. After her Hajj, on the eve of leaving Saudi Arabia, she was drawn to return again to the wonderful rock. She insists Islam is not idol worship, but then she equates the rock with God. It was weird and off-putting. 

There seemed to be some painful experiences in her past that she was not being up front about. She shared almost nothing about her childhood and upbringing, nor about her spiritual life prior to her pilgrimage. One senses she did not have an easy relationship with her parents, which she probably didn't want to write about in public, but it leaves the reader feeling they're being denied important information.

She also is very naive about politics, as only the events of 9/11 unveil for her the depth of anti-American and anti-Jewish sentiment among her fellow Muslims. She insists that the terrorist attacks were a betrayal of Islamic ideals, that Islam is a religion that upholds life, but the very quote she references to support this exhorts the killing of enemies, so that was not very convincing. I need to read some more thoughtful and self-reflective authors to unravel the mystery of Islam.

I did really appreciate some of the information about life in Saudi Arabia, especially for women, and the description of Hajj which I found fascinating. It's important to understand the appeal of a religion so passionately followed by so many. This book gave me a hint of it, but I need to learn much more. 

Third in my binge on Heyer's mysteries. This one features one of her "dandy who is much smarter and more formidable than he looks" characters, which I generally find some of her most amusing. The cast of unpleasant family members with multiple motives to be the killer, but very little ability to do so, appears again. The unlikeliest suspect is always the one to suspect, and this time there is an elaborate but rather clever solution, if discouraging to one's sense of justice.

Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle

The varieties of religious experience and expression are explored in this tale of three 7th century monks looking for refuge from a sinful world on a tiny island off the coast of Ireland, Great Skellig (later known as Skellig Michael). The instigating monk, Artt, turns out to be a religious maniac, whose cruel and punitive behavior is hard to witness. Would it take a crazy person to come up with the idea of creating a religious community on a bare rock in the sea? Perhaps, and Donoghue has given an imaginative picture of how that might have played out. (It's not known exactly who established the first community on the island, but the evidence is that later inhabitants implemented more sensible and sustainable practices).

The other two monks, Trian and Corban, provide balance, as they experience God through nature, craftsmanship, and relationships, in a far more Christian way than the leader they defer to for far too long. We sympathize with them, both because they are more normal than Artt, but also because we learn more about their history and motivations. Artt remains more of a cipher in this respect, a monomaniacal character it is difficult to have any sympathy for at all, and  I find that a weakness. It would have been good to give some insight into what turned his brain, as we struggle these days with so many individuals who seem to share the same problem. But that is a riddle that is not easy to solve, and maybe Donoghue just had to leave it a mystery.

Her writing brings life on the island vividly before us, in what is also a survival tale that questions how people could have carved out a place so far from human civilization. Plants, animals, weather, as well as shelter, warmth, food gathering and cultivation, all the processes of life and growth are subjects both for practical observation and philosophical meditation. Even though the author never actually set foot on Skellig Michael, she makes us feel that we live through a season there, one I'll not soon forget. This is a book with little outward activity, but much to inwardly contemplate and ponder.