lory_enterenchanted's Reviews (582)

Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle

Read immediately following the first book, My Name Is Asher Lev. Fascinating glimpse into the world of the Hasidim and simultaneously into the soul of a visual artist. The two destinies are not easy to reconcile.

The personal blindness and intransigence of Asher's family and community, set side by side with their idealism and sense of spiritual mission, is hard to take. There is not much said about this, it's just there, in the way they raised Asher, abandoning him, subjecting him to traumatic loss and grief, and then trying to make him feel guilty for being himself, telling a child his drawing gift was from the Dark Side, taking his son away from him. Yet Asher sticks with his tradition and does not turn against or abandon it, finding some truth in it that he can't deny. With his creative urge, he seems able to live with opposing polarities. Painfully, though. 

I wish there had been some more nuanced exploration of Lev's crucifixion theme in his painting. Everybody just says "What, a crucifixion?! But you're Jewish!" And they think it's either horrendous or cool, depending on their disposition, and everything just stops there in an impossible cognitive dissonance. But there is more to the crucifixion than a polarizing religious sign for Christian intolerance and Jewish trauma. Didn't Plato write of the world soul being crucified on the world-body? And the sun-cross is an ancient symbol. These are archetypal, cosmic themes, not only matters of religious dogma. But nobody takes that up.

In many ways, it's Asher who is continually crucified in these books, although he himself does not point that out. His community wants to create a world of beauty and goodness on their own terms, keeping themselves pure, a "cult of innocence" as I heard it described reccently. He, Asher, just wants to create, not to leave out all the painful or uncomfortable parts, but to be responsible only to the reality of the work. And he bears the vilification and the misunderstanding largely in silence. (There are whole pages when he says nothing but "Yes" or "No" or is silent.) We, the readers, have to suffer with him and to ask ourselves how we would react in such a situation, whether we could keep creating in the face of such opposition.

Too bad there was not a third book showing Asher's son as the Rebbe, that would have been interesting to see. Would the son of the outcast bring change? Or would he, too, turn against his father? We'll never know, sadly.

"All men of wisdom know that there are endless worlds and spheres, and in each sphere there are tens of thousands of heavenly creatures, beings without end, without number, all emanating from the single act of creation. The mouth cannot utter it, the mind cannot fathom it. And among the heavenly beings themselves there are gradations and categories without end, higher and higher--and all are possessed of wisdom, and all acknowledge their Creator. But our little world, our suffering world, in its closeness to the lowest of the spheres and with its mixture of good and evil because of the sin of Adam and Eve--how does our world continue to exist? What creates harmony between the upper and the lower worlds? That, my Asher, is perhaps the most difficult riddle of all.

"Asher Lev, our teachers tell us that this harmony is the special creation of individuals who engage in certain deeds for the sake of the deeds themselves. Such deeds rise as a song, as the greatest of art, to all the spheres. And when the heavenly beings hear this song they take upon themselves gladly the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, and they exclaim in unison, Holy! Holy! Holy!--and there is peace in all of creation, and peace to all of Israel, and the beginning of an end to the exile."

Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle

The town where I used to live in New York was close to one of the largest communities of Hasidic Jews in the US outside of New York City (and probably in the world). There was a lot of tension with that community because of their insularity, as their growth and spreading affected public services for others nearby. But the strength of their conviction is also fascinating. What keeps them on such an inwardly directed path in the modern world?

I want to know more about such communities and Judaism in general, so I read this novel that's been on my radar for a long time. It was a slow but very touching account of an artist growing up as an only child of strongly dedicated Orthodox parents. His artistic passion is at odds with their ideals, especially the father's, and torments his mother as she feels pulled between them. 

It's heartrending to see how well-meaning parents can abuse and neglect their own child, due to their greater concern for the suffering of their whole ethnic group. Of course the plight of Jews in Russia deserves attention, but others can help with that. These two people's relationship to Asher is unique and irreplaceable, and they harm him in ways that may run deeper even than the outwardly anti-Semitic violence with which they are so preoccupied. But they never seem to realize that.

The ending is devastating, with no reconciliation possible between religious and artistic conviction. I have to read the sequel to see if this changes at all.

Read for Austen in August 2022 -- I always swear off Austen adaptations/continuations for a while but then am lured back in. Sometimes I'm sorry (leading to another swearing-off period), but this one was not a disappointment. I do think I enjoy most the ones like this, that take secondary characters and imagine a backstory for them, leaving the main plot and characters alone. And this was a terrific premise -- that the limp nonentity Anne de Bourgh, intended bride (intended by her mother anyway) of Mr. Darcy, was actually under the influence of laudanum, given to her from childhood as it was to so many of her time. This medicine caused the illness it was supposed to be treating -- which is an excellent point to explore, but instantly modernizes the point of view, because few if any contemporaries of Austen would have seen this, and none would have had our current knowledge and sad experience of the processes and costs of addiction.

Greely started off well with this idea, not making the modern POV too obtrusive while plausibly exploring the ramifications, bringing Anne to life even as her life is being shut down and stolen from her by the drug. And her escape to London was splendidly satisfying, as she chose to determine her own life and go through the pain of withdrawal.

After this, things got less psychologically complex and interesting. After nearly 30 years of laudanum use, would it really be so easy to throw it off? There were a few twinges of "I'd like my drops now" but that was it, and it seems quite unlikely to me. Plus, a romance with another young lady was sweet but also a little unsatisfying for some reason. I wish things had not gone so fast and that the end had not been so tidy and pat. 

Austen would never have written a character like this, and yet her alternate universe somehow makes sense and is enjoyable in itself, and that's how a spin-off works best in my opinion. Nobody can write like Austen, so it's better not to try. But in terms of compassionate insight into the failings of characters Austen herself dismisses quite thoughtlessly, we can make improvements. The Heiress does this without distorting the source material, and that's not a bad achievement.

Arising out of both the author's personal experience and research into eating disorders, this book has some important points to make: the booming diet industry is a fraud that is making people fatter and sicker. It is often in evil league with the eating-disorder recovery industry, similarly a field with flashy advertising and dismal results that serve to feed its repeat business model. Another eye-opener was the bias toward people of color, who are not diagnosed or treated for or even considered capable of having eating disorders, a deadly form of bias that exacerbates the racial trauma that makes this population vulnerable in the first place.

It's a field that needs much more attention and compassionate understanding, and I'm glad to have read this book as a start towards learning more. It made a personal difference for me, too, because in the course of reading it, I realized that I too have suffered from an eating disorder -- binge eating disorder, which Kazdin only mentions in passing although it's the most common ED in the United States.

And that brings up something that bothered me about the book. Passionate and compelling though it is on certain aspects of the topic, notably those to which the author has a personal connection (diet culture, infertility), it is not a thorough or comprehensive treatment. There are large holes in the research regarding things that even I know about -- the emerging connection between gut dysbiosis and obesity, for example. She dismisses gluten-free and sugar-free diets as symptoms of buying into the food-restriction philosophy, completely overlooking the evidence that these substances can have actual adverse effects on our physiology. She touches on the biochemical brain factors now being explored with eating disorders, but only briefly, not really exploring the link to other addictive behaviors and mental illnesses. And so on. Not everything can be blamed on diet culture and body-image expectations, but that's what gets the most attention here. 

While said "diet culture" does rightly deserve the criticism, there is almost no coverage of the emotional, interpersonal, and family-history issues that play into the disease, under the level of the outward behavior -- as with any addiction. Kazdin was helped to change her behavior by a behavioral therapist, but not to delve into its sources, and she doesn't really try to do it herself. Is she being protective of her family? (Her father is mentioned at the beginning as having some weird food hangups himself, but then disappears from the narrative, except for using his pull as a prominent psychologist to help Kazdin get treatment). Does she not want to know about this aspect of her own disease? Both as reportage and as memoir, there seems to be something missing here.

In addition to being left wanting more substance at the end, I was not a fan of Kazdin's colloquial style (with phraseology including "So I was like..." to mean "I said" and "Yay?" to represent mixed feelings). This was probably meant to be disarming and give a more personal tone to the book, but I found it off-putting and distracting. However engaging they may be when delivered in person, on the bald medium of the printed page such expressions stand out oddly, to me, at least in this context. Probably a matter of personal taste, but there it is.

In spite of my caveats, I do recommend the book, because (as Kazdin also points out) there is a dearth of research and fruitful dialogue around eating disorders. And I admire her honesty and courage in telling her story, although I think she deserved better editing and help with developing her project before publication. I hope that more and more voices will emerge to protest the wrongs that are being done in the name of "health", to tell their stories, and to educate us about a better way forward. 

Thanks to NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review the book.

Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle

I have been meaning to read Fermor's account of his walk across Europe for a long time. Now I have finally done it -- the first half at least. I was reminded forcibly of Simon Winder's Danubia, as Fermor roved across the same territory, and with something of the same rambling style that eddied into extended musings on historical or architectural themes. 

Some of these lost my attention and I found myself skimming. I liked the book best where Fermor met and interacted with people. One of my favorite parts was when in Vienna, after his bag had been stolen and his allowance not yet arrived, he met a fellow-traveler from the Frisian Islands who suggested he sell his drawing skills from door to door, offering to do portraits. This was a wonderful little set-piece that introduced us to all sorts of characters, and his friend, above all, an unforgettable one.

I also liked it when he realized, partway through Czechoslovakia, that he'd finally left behind his misdeeds of the past (he was doing this walking tour at the age of nineteen because he'd failed to get along in both school and the army) and was free of the expectation that he'd mess up in some way. The whole journey, ironically given that he was doing it on the eve of WWII, has a feeling of walking toward freedom and self-empowerment. Though I am sure I will never do anything nearly so extensive, my own small walking experiences give me the same feeling.

Proud of myself that I finished this book in French and got more out of it than the time I read it in English (in a poor translation, I believe). The melancholic story had more resonance in the original language.

An early effort that hints at better things to come, after Wodehouse had honed his style and plotting further. This was pleasantly diverting but completely forgettable. In fact, I started to suspect I had read it already and forgotten it (but I'm not sure whether I had, or was just reminded of episodes from other PGW books).

Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle

I read Dorothy Dunnett! I'd seen her books highly recommended so I wanted to check them out. I did not get on with the Macbeth one, but I tried again with the Lymond Chronicles. The start was rocky again (Lymond seemed a horrible character to begin with, and I was confused by the history and military strategy) but after a while I finally got into it. The plot remained confusing to me, but I became more engaged with the characters, and it was lovely to see Richard and Lymond finally coming to an understanding. I will try the next in the series and maybe it will be more comprehensible now that I have some orientation.

I didn't feel that the foreign quotations were a huge impediment to understanding, although it would be nice to have a reference with the translations. The outrageously florid style could have been irritating, but somehow it worked and gave a great flair to what otherwise could have been quite a dull and dreary passage of history. Maybe that's why these books are so beloved.

For some reason I thought Laurie Colwin had written a lot of food books, but it seems there is really only this one and the posthumous More Home Cooking. I enjoy Colwin's style -- it reminded me of Peg Bracken's The I Hate To Cook Book, with its simple recipes and chatty commentary, except this should be called the I Love To Cook Book. Cooking-wise the book is of limited usefulness to me, since the recipes mostly involve things I can't eat or don't eat or just would never bother to cook. Glad I finally read it, and I'd gladly read more by Colwin, but it won't be one of those books that ends up changing the way I cook. (I'm already too set in my ways I guess.)

Interesting result of the author's investigation into her father's life, which she wanted to understand better after he committed suicide. As his history comes slowly more into focus, along with much that can never be fully comprehended, it creates a touching portrait of a man who struggled to live well, against incredible obstacles, with an end both tragic and uplifting.