Book club, April

Possible modifications to the book club:

• Selection every month is fiction and designated by a poll.
• Additionally, anyone planning to read anything non-fiction that they think others might also enjoy (i.e. Foxx's book on marriage, Byrd or Schow's books in the poll last month, books by GAs...) could just say they are reading it and I'll put up their post date so anyone who wants to read it by that date can do so and then engage in a discussion on their blog.

That way everyone can read what they want and everyone else can take it or leave it. What do you think?

Also, my suggestion for the fiction title this month is Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami, The Piano Tuner by Daniel Mason, or if you're in an edgy mood, Blindness by Jose Saramago. I've heard good things about all of these. Santorio's suggestion is Catfish and Mandala by Andrew X. Pham which he describes in the comments here. Post any other suggestions now and I'll throw up a poll in the next couple days.

Random clubbing

There were several things in this book that I intended to post about, but none of them are all that interesting. (Plus, apparently I’m the only one who read the book.) So, rather than post for days about something nobody cares about, I’ll just get them out of the way now. :-)

For example, the relationship between Jon and Norrell was an interesting one:

You think that I am angry,” said Mr Norrell, “but I am not. You think I do not know why you have done what you have done, but I do. You think you have put all your heart into that writing and that every one in England now understands you. What do they understand? Nothing. I understood you before you wrote a word.” He paused and his face worked as if he were struggling to say something that lay very deep inside him. “What you wrote, you wrote for me. For me alone.”

It was kind of like father/son, and kind of like brothers… and I dunno. Interesting mainly because they understood one another in a way that nobody else could understand them. They had some very unique experiences in common. And that reminds me of some of you.

I have no quote for it, but the idea of Stephen and Lady Pole living out their years in a tormented double-life seemed very close to home as well. All along they want to tell someone, but can’t. They feel trapped and unhappy but are incapable of freeing themselves from their predicament (they are magically imprisoned every night). Again, it resonates with me.

This struck a familiar chord with me when I think of some blog comments:

“Ah, but, sir,” said Lascelles, “it is precisely by passing judgements upon other people’s work and pointing out their errors that readers can be made to understand your own opinions better. It is the easiest thing in the world to turn a review to one’s own ends. One only need mention the book once or twice and for the rest of the article one may develop one’s theme just as one chuses. It is, I assure you, what every body else does.”

And here’s a characterization of religion that I think many assume applies to Mormonism as well!

“Their religion is of the strictest sort, Stephen. Almost everything is forbidden to them except carpets.”

Stephen watched them as they went mournfully about the market, these men whose mouths were perpetually closed lest they spoke some forbidden word, whose eyes were perpetually averted from forbidden sights, whose hands refrained at every moment from some forbidden act. It seemed to him that they did little more than half-exist. They might as well have been dreams of ghosts. In the silent town and the silent countryside only the hot wind seemed to have any real substance. Stephen felt he would not be surprised if one day the wind blew the town and its inhabitants entirely away.

The characters in the book are very real to me, and I liked that about the book a lot. A few other quotes that I liked because they were funny, and then I’ll be done:

He had decided that the correct attitude to take was one of dignified moral superiority softened by a very moderate amount of apology.

But Drawlight, who had begun to believe that if anyone had ever died of boredom then he was almost certain to expire within the next quarter of an hour, found that he had lost the will to speak and the best he could manage was a withering smile.

“I think it most unkind of you,” said Lascelles at last, “to accept money for arranging to have me ruined, crippled and driven mad.”

Please don’t be unkind. ;-)

Miraculous magic

... They began, as you did, with the aim of bringing back practical magic to the world. They were practical men and wished to apply the principles of reason and science to magic as they had done to the manufacturing arts. They called it 'Rational Thaumaturgy'. When it did not work they became discouraged. Well, they cannot be blamed for that. But they let their disillusionment lead them into all sorts of difficulties. They began to think that there was not now nor ever had been magic in the world. They said that the Aureate magicians were all deceivers or were themselves deceived. And that the Raven King was an invention of the northern English to keep themselves from the tyranny of the south (being north-country men themselves they had some sympathy with that). Oh, their arguments were very ingenious--I forget how they explained fairies.

-Susanna Clarke
in Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

This reminds me of the clever efforts to explain miracles in scripture as natural phenomena. Locusts, frogs, water becoming dry land... all come to El Niño or something of that nature. Rivers turning to blood was accomplished with iron rich volcanic soil dying it all red... and the like. Seeing light and long deceased loved ones during near death experiences is chalked up to anoxic brain injury, spiritual manifestations and feelings of peaceful assurance can be mapped to certain parts of the brain. This interesting effort only bothers me when people try to use it to claim that miracles don't exist or that God doesn't exist. The jump to that conclusion is unwarranted.

There's the slightly confusing issue that the most sacred experiences people have aren't shared. This gives the illusion that miracles don't happen much these days. I can tell you I've had my share of personal miracles and that family members of mine have had miracles of a particularly dramatic nature... but since I'm reluctant to share the details on a blog, it's all for naught. It just pads my own confidence, nothing more.

And now, O all ye that have imagined up unto yourselves a god who can do no miracles, I would ask of you, have all these things passed, o fwhich I have spoken? Has the end come yet? Behold I say unto you, Nay; and God has not ceased to be a God of miracles.

Mormon 9:15

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

She took his hands and her eyes were shining. "And you did it," she whispered. They looked at each other for a long moment, and in that moment all was as it used to be--it was as if they had never parted; but she did not offer to go into the Darkness with him and he did not ask her.

"One day," he said, "I shall find the right spell and banish the Darkness.
And on that day I will come to you."

"Yes. On that day. I will wait until then."

He nodded and seemed about to depart, but then he hesitated. "Bell," he
said, "do not wear black. Do not be a widow. Be happy. That is
how I wish to think of you."

I'm not quite capable of really being happy with the club's fiction choices. I'm conflicted between my desire for complexity that mirrors life and happy endings that leave me feeling optimistic and gratified. At the end of Kavalier and Clay, Sammy left his family to go be gay... to live the happy life he deserved. And it made me miserable. Because I am Sammy, in a way, and I know with absolute certainty that such a move on my part would be devastating all around. It would be a tragedy despite all the back patting I would get.

Jonathan Strange had eternal darkness surrounding him. What of it? A little darkness never hurt anyone! Just drink your vitamin D fortified milk and buck up, for crying out loud! I spent the whole book in love with his wife because she reminded me so much of my own wife. I cried when I thought of her miserable and trapped in a place that was inaccessible to me--in a manner that I couldn't overcome. And then... just when the enchantments start to be defeated, they decide to just part ways and call it good? Just until later, of course. When that pesky SSA, err, darkness is overcome.

Yes, yes, I realize this is supposed to be a poignant statement about love and sacrifice and a testament to their commitment to one another. But I'm not happy. I want my money back. Oh, wait, it was a library book.

Amazingly, my wife disagrees with me about all this. If I felt that to be happy I needed to leave her, she says, she would understand. She says it so lovingly, so sincerely, so unbelievably unselfishly that it makes me want to just make out with her right there and then.

Bring on the storms! Bring on the darkness! Bring on the otherworldly fairy-demons! We'll be holding hands resolutely through it all if I have anything to say about it.

Book club, March

Remember to go pick up your copy of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell so you can get it read in the next couple weeks! Book club is a lot more fun when it's not "vote on the book L has to read and post on all by himself" club. :-)

And for any of you Ugly Betty fans, see if any of the characters in the book remind you of any of the characters in the TV show. I have the cast for the movie version of this book all picked out in my head...

Book club, Feb

I like movies for book club. They are short and sweet. :-)

There are several books I'm still interested in reading that lost previous months' club polls, but it's probably better to start from a clean slate. Anyone want to nominate a book?

I'm still interested in non-fiction titles. There are books by Byrd and Schow that I've mentioned wanting to read some time. There are books by general authorities that I think would be faith building and fun to read. There are always your Pulitzer prize books that are just plain hearty reading. We could read poetry...

I'm open for anything.

Rules

It's going to be a rehash, probably. I've already mused about R rated movies and the pros and cons of following strict guidelines vs. the "spirit of the law". But watching States of Grace brought the subject back to mind again.

A powerful line in the movie was when Elder Farrell was reluctant to take Louis into their apartment and Elder Lozano says, "Do you want to follow the rules or follow the commandments?" Here's a place where there seems to be no room for argument. Disregarding the rules seems to be unavoidable to really be a follower of Christ.

Later in the film, after Elder Farrell had sex, I couldn't help but imagine to myself that the course of events that led to him being enamored with Holly all started because they disregarded the rules. Had they not started having roof-top family dinners and hanging out with Louis and Holly (Elder Lozano mainly talking with Louis and Elder Farrell left essentially alone for romantic heart-to-hearts with Holly), it probably wouldn't have happened.

I can already imagine some consternation... "What do you want them to do, L? Leave Louis in the street to freeze to death? Oh, yeah, murder's a lot better than losing your chastity!" But, my point is precisely that they could have kept the rules and still rescued Louis. Rationalizing things here and there leaves us open to embracing false dilemmas when we're not paying attention. They could have had him in the house that night, then found an alternative arrangement when he was better... or gotten permission... or called an ambulance... or whatever.

Ought one to follow or be self-sufficient in winging it? Are there ever any really easy answers?

Conditions of love

The issue of the give and take of love gets a pretty good treatment in States of Grace. Elder Farrell's dad says he'd rather his son come home in a coffin than come home dishonored. And, admirably, Dutcher doesn't flake out with a pat reconciliation at the end--the dad stays distant and Elder Farrell stays tormented to an extent. What kind of love is that? What kind of love wants the best for a person, thus sets up expectations of behavior, and failing those expectations withdraws completely?

Holly's parents struggle with the same thing. They love their daughter, it seems, enough to send her to L.A. first class with all their support and hope for the best as an actress. But when things go south and she makes some poor decisions out of desperation, they withdraw not only their approval, but even the most basic of personal contact. Do they see that in some strange way as being loving to their daughter?

I can understand the importance of emphasizing your moral viewpoint to your children. I can understand the temptation to give ultimatums. But sending the message that mistakes are irrevocable is anti-Christ.

I'll never turn my son out, regardless of the decisions he makes, unless he becomes a threat to the safety and well being of others for whom I have responsibility. So, the trick now is, how do I make it absolutely clear that he always has my love and support without dampening the high expectations of behavior I have for him as well? I dunno. It doesn't even seem that tricky to me at the moment. Why then do people put conditions on their love?

States of Grace

Finally got the movie and watched it tonight. Loved it, of course. In fact, I hope if you haven't seen it yet, you will go buy it immediately and watch it. I'm usually a big patron of libraries, but this is one where I'm not only glad to own it, but I'm almost tempted to send a donation to encourage Dutcher to keep 'em comin'. FYI, I'm not going to dance around the plot, so you can assume all subsequent posts have spoilers. Come back and read/comment once you've seen it.

Apart from the central message resonating so thoroughly with me--we all need God's grace--this movie was all the more powerful because I served a mission in an inner-city in the U.S. as well. The tracting, the investigator falling asleep during the discussion, the distractions... were oh so familiar.

Despite the occasional gun flashing at me when someone answered a door (I'm not kidding), stolen bicycles (oh, and a car), and the odd report of one of my district's companionships having discovered a corpse while walking through an alleyway, I liked the city. People listened. People had been compelled to be humble.

There was drama in the personal lives of various missionaries too. I've never felt at all able to convey the types of vignettes from that part of my life. There were illicit romances, mistakes, midnight transfers, broken rules, various kinds of trouble. The need for grace in the lives of the missionaries as well as the investigators has always been a hard thing to accurately describe without inadvertently giving some wrong impressions as well. This movie, I think, has done an amazing job of summing a lot of it up.

Living the days

Adaon smiled gravely. "Is there not glory enough in living the days given to us? You should know there is adventure in simply being among those we love and the things we love, and beauty, too."

I've been excited to find the adventure and "glory" waiting for me so far in 2007. I find I like my life to a surprising degree, all things considered. I've had a few rough patches lately, but nothing unusual or particularly alarming. And in the midst of it all I find myself more in love with my wife than ever, more connected to my son than ever, and more content with "living the days given" to me.

Sometimes I wonder if it's a symptom of having left my 20's behind that I no longer find a huge amount of draw in big ambitious dreams. Less and less do I feel like I have to compete or out-do anyone else, and it's kind of a relief. I have a little family and we are the most important thing in one another's lives. Having said that, we each have personal interests that we pursue with alacrity and passion, and I'm not really in favor of giving that up.

So, yeah, Adaon. Good point.

On your honor

"It is Ellidyr who paid the final price," Taran said slowly. "The last honor belongs to him." He spoke then of Islimach [his suicidal horse]. "He has lost all else, even his steed."

"Or perhaps gained all," Gwydion answered. "And his honor shall be certain. We shall raise a barrow to his memory. Islimach, too, shall rest with him, for they are both now at peace. Smoit's dead shall also sleep in honor, and a barrow be raised above Morgant King of Madoc."

"Morgant?" Taran asked, turning a puzzled glance to Gwydion. "How can there be honor for such a man?"

"It is easy to judge evil unmixed," replied Gwydion. "But, alas, in most of us good and bad are closely woven as the threads on a loom; greater wisdom than mine is needed for the judging."

I've been encouraged to be honorable as a boy scout (the scout oath), in school (the honor roll), and as a missionary ("return with honor"). I've never been a huge fan of conceptual honor, exactly, as it makes me think we're talking about reputation. But I suppose the self-perception and moral identity aspects of honor are good ones to support.

So, The Black Cauldron is all about honor. But my initial reaction was a less-than-enthusiastic one since the way they talk about honor reminds me of my brushes with renaissance fairs. Through a series of events I won't describe, I found myself dishonorably clothed in jeans and t-shirt in the midst of dozens of back-clapping, cod-piece wearing fellas who seemed to stare at me as if I were a freak. The blemish on my family's escutcheon will be difficult to buff.

What I loved about it after reading it, though, was the contrast between the honor Ellidyr wanted (which was based on others' perceptions and was a complete sham and he would have known it) vs. the honor an assistant pig keeper can hold in his own heart regardless of having little status in the world. While the message seems to be that the honor does not derive from who we are, but from how we behave, I extend that in my mind to be an endorsement of the idea of seeking God's honor or some sort of self satisfaction rather than "aspiring to the honors of men."

This is also an appropriate time to think about this topic because recently I felt very humiliated in a public forum. I felt misunderstood and frankly victimized by angry folks who have obviously been deeply hurt themselves and lost a lot of perspective. Looking back, I recognize that group dynamics sometimes dictate harsh perceptions of certain points of view, but that harshness and the dishonor heaped on you by the mob are ridiculous. It's good practice to worry not what others think, just what God thinks or what I think of myself.

Honor means having a good work ethic, paying for what I receive, respecting others, being honest, etc., and I suppose this all equates to being a disciple of Christ for me. And even though I'm more of a Morgant some days than a Taran, I'm happy to keep trying to make the closely woven threads of good and bad in my loom lean toward the good.

The Black Cauldron

Well, I was going to post today for Black Cauldron, but then I went and lost my copy. It was a fun book, and I enjoyed it for what it was--that much I can remember. The moral was that if you are a scummy person with a lot of self-hate you can simultaneously win some honor and commit suicide if you play your cards right. That, and that there is a little pig-boy in us all.

So, I'll be posting when I get around to it. Now, back to eating Christmas candy. Yum.

Oh, yeah, and if you would like to start suggesting books for January, feel free. Backslider and Rough Stone Rolling (bio of Joseph Smith) are on the list already. Others?

Book club, December 2

Ok, the chat thing wasn't exactly a huge success. Which means, no book club title has been selected. I've heard suggestions for The Black Cauldron, an Ayn Rand title, and The Charioteer by Mary Renault. I'm more excited about either a non-fiction title (maybe Pres. Hinckley's bio) or a non-gay fiction title. I'm a little gayed out as far as books go for the present. But, hey, I just work here. Santorio suggested taking the month off, and that's fine with me too. Whatever you guys want...

Suggest titles and I'll put up a poll soon.

Indulging one's worst

But Joe was perhaps the first to feel the shame of glorifying, in the name of democracy and freedom, the vengeful brutality of a very strong man. For months he had been assuring himself, and listening to Sammy's assurances, that they were hastening, by their make-believe hammering at Haxoff or Hynkel or Hassler or Hitler, the intervention of the United States into the war in Europe. Now it occurred to Joe to wonder if all they had been doing, all along, was indulging their own worst impulses and assuring the creation of another generation of men who revered only strength and domination.

I wonder how often I indulge something despicable in myself in the name of virtue. I see examples all the time where someone starts off pursuing a good ideal and ends up strangely defying themselves. You've got your political leaders who are so absolutely certain of their moral position that they brazenly invade in the name of freedom, all while their opponents claim martyrdom over the "invasion of the infidels." It's all about perspective, I guess. And that's why I try to take in things from all perspectives. That's not a bad idea on the face of it. But, it can be quite crippling at times.

I've never developed a finely tuned barometer for appropriate indignation. I tend to come off soft in the hardest of circumstances. I suppose it's because I've been drilled to turn the other cheek throughout my life. Is that adequate when I'm being tromped on unprovoked? Is it adequate when my family is? Clearly not.

So, how and when do you draw the line? If you've been reading this blog for a few months, you'll remember my sudden embarrassment at having become crass and sarcastic. It seemed an inappropriate way to respond to the crass sarcasm of those who ridicule me. But since then, I've been overly soft at times too. Imagine, for example, a brazen pedophile who attacks a vulnerable person repeatedly--how do you respond to such a person? I found myself loathe to say anything insulting. I didn't want to label him or judge him or say anything bitter. That left just reasoning with an unreasonable fiend. And is that adequate when someone you love is being harassed? I went for using strong words... words which I'm still not certain were quite the right flavor. Words like evil and despise.

The point is, Joe and I aren't the only ones who have a hard time weighing things out. But I'd like to become aware of the issue to the point I can be as certain as possible that I haven't crossed a line in the opposite direction.

Book club, December

I know several folks read Amazing Adventures, and I've even had private chats with a few people about the themes of the book. But the comments have been sparse, so I wonder if it's worth trying something different.

Come to this blog and click this link to open a chat window at 5:00 pm MST on Sunday Dec 3, to join in a lively discussion on AAKC. In this chat we'll decide the book club title for December. If you can't make it to the chat, please comment your preference for a December title here.

Feeling super

A surprising fact about the magician Bernard Kornblum, Joe remembered, was that he believed in magic. Not in the so-called magic of candles, pentagrams, and bat wings. Not in the kitchen enchantments of Slavic grandmothers with their herbiaries and parings from the little toe of a blind virgin tied up in a goatskin bag. Not in astrology, theosophy, chiromancy, dowsing rods, seances, weeping statues, werewolves, wonders, or miracles. All these Kornblum had regarded as fakery far different--far more destructive--than the brand of illusion he practiced, whose success, after all, increased in direct proportion to his audiences' constant, keen awareness that, in spite of all the vigilance they could bring to bear, they were being deceived. What bewitched Bernard Kornblum on the contrary, was the impersonal magic of life, when he read in a magazine about a fish that could disguise itself as any one of seven different varieties of sea bottom, or when he learned from a newsreel that scientists had discovered a dying star that emitted radiation on a wavelength whose value in megacycles approximated pi. In the realm of human affairs, this type of enchantment was often, though not always, a sadder business--sometimes beautiful, sometimes cruel. Here its stock-in-trade was ironies, coincidences, and the only true portents: those that revealed themselves, unmistakable and impossible to ignore, in retrospect.

You can't be a physician and not believe in Kornblum's type of magic. The human body is amazing stuff--no short of real magic. Further, human relationships are remarkable. And human stupidity is unfathomable (to put a little more cynical spin on it!).

In a parallel way, I believe in super heroes. Not in the web crawling mutations of a teen photographer, not in the x-ray vision of an alien orphan, but in the very personal super heroes of life--the poem writers for the upset, the activists for the oppressed, the courageous folks who walk away from mistakes, the ready friend to the struggling, the unwavering voice of faith, the (I could go on, but I'm too lazy--insert something here that describes you)... these folks are heroes of mine and accomplish in a slow and quiet way the super-human task of human life. They do what everyone does, but do it exceptionally.

I aspire to be super. But being super in life, much like Kornblum's magic, has many imitators and often remains unrecognized. Perhaps someday I can be as super as I want to be.

Another account

If you caught Master Fob's recent praise for Information Specialists (all true--my wife, for example, is a super information specialist), you might also be interested in hearing how Chabon's protagonists characterize the likes of Master Fob:

On this particular autumn night, only the prospect of another solitary evening lies before her. She will fry her chop and read herself to sleep, no doubt with a tale of wizardry and romance. Then, in dreams that strike even her as trite, Miss Dark will go adventuring in chain mail and silk. Tomorrow morning she will wake up alone, and do it all again.

Poor Judy Dark! Poor little librarians of the world, those girls, secretly lovely, their looks marred forever by the cruelty of a pair of big black eyeglasses.

-Chabon in The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

MF, I hope you wear contacts.

The Great -L-

Golem

No, not the ring lusting little hobbit-esque creature you're thinking of. I learned while reading Amazing Adventures that a golem is a creature brought to life. Think Pinocchio, Frankenstein, and Adam in Eden. And golems were a central theme in this book. The main golem was a famous one that Joe helped secretly transport out of Prague to protect it from Nazis. It resurfaced at the end of the book in what I assume was a profoundly meaningful way (that was completely over my head).

The comic book characters Joe and Sammy created were, in a sense, golems as well. Or, failed to be, I suppose. Joe wanted them to be brought to life, battling the Nazis through his comics all the while expecting and hoping that some actual political movement would be inspired by his efforts. In this he was disappointed, as his friend had warned him:

"There is only one sure means in life," Deasey said, "of ensuring that you are not ground into paste by disappointment, futility, and disillusion. And that is always to ensure, to the utmost of your ability, that you are doing it solely for the money."

If I could twist his words to my own devices I would change it to read that you should do it solely for personal satisfaction. Money, it seems to me, could be an even larger disappointment after failure than missed political influence.

And, the perennial consideration of blogging's purpose seems to be apropos. My reason for blogging constantly evolves, but at present it is 1) because I'm completely addicted, 2) because it is helpful to me in addressing subjects that bother me, and 3) because I think it's helpful to others. And those latter points give me some satisfaction. The fact that it may NOT be helpful to anyone puts a damper on my efforts to avoid being ground into paste, but I always have #2 to fall back on.

But bringing Frankenstein to life has its cost. I could be producing other types of golems instead. Is this really the best use of my limited time? I've given up so many hobbies and interests over the years out of necessity. Adulthood and gainful employment preclude the personal indulgence I've enjoyed to create golems throughout my life. It's a sad truth that there's only so much time and it can fit only so many opportunities. I hope I'm choosing the better part. Or at the very least, I'm fortifying myself in a manner that will allow me to do so in the future. And I hope my golem doesn't end up turning on me and killing me.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

It was a great book. Made me think. Made me cry. And I have about a dozen quotes that I thought could spark interesting conversations. But, I don't know if anyone else has that kind of interest or patience, so I'll just have to see how things go. FYI, Santorio already has a few posts on the book and Enduring Eric mentioned it here. One thought I considered was having a scheduled chat for anyone interested to join in. Comments are slow going for any sizable conversation and that seems like a viable alternative. So what do you think about that? Any interest?

For those of you who never read the book, feel free to join in. I can't give a decent synopsis, but I'll give it a shot all the same. It's a story about Joe Kavalier, a Czeck Jewish teenager who left his family to come to the US during WWII and spends most of the book trying to help them reach safety, and his gay American cousin Sammy Clay. Their adventures center around the creation of successful comic book characters, as well as their relationships with each other, their respective families, their boss, their romantic interests, a Nazi sympathizer, etc.

The writing itself is mostly beautiful and fun, but labored at times. You have to be willing to put up with a style that I found to be irritatingly confusing at crucial moments (you know: gunshots, bombs going off, fight scenes) and excessively thick at times (to borrow a phrase from Chabon himself, they "caught like batter in the blades of the ceiling fans"). The sections that walk through a comic book's story and panels are amazingly effective.

But the real power of the book is its ability to capture believable characters. I could pick Joe or Sammy out of a crowd. I would know just how to talk to them. I fell in love with Joe during the first part of the book (didn't want to...) and cried at the end because of how Sammy dealt with the awkward family situation. It made me reflective, it heightened my awareness of my past conflicts and my current decisions (and is that a good thing?).

To continue a quote I started on this post:

At the same time, as he watched the reckless exercise of Joe's long, cavalier frame, the display of strength for its own sake and for the love of display, the stirring of passion was inevitably shadowed, or fed, or entwined by the memory of his father. We have the idea that our hearts, once broken, scar over with an indestructible tissue that prevents their ever breaking again in quite the same place; but as Sammy watched Joe, he felt the heartbreak of that day in 1935 when the Mighty Molecule had gone away for good.

I've sometimes felt that my heart is scarring over nicely--I've come to accept the desires in myself that are never going to be fulfilled. Whether that involves removing the desire altogether or just letting it settle silently into the unacknowledged background, I don't really care. But reading this book--particularly the part recognized by all the reviews I read online as a happy ending--had quite a sobering effect on me. It reminded me that what I believe is right and necessary for myself is nothing like what many people believe is best for me. Being reminded in just this way opened that wound up all over again, and the happy ending I had been promised was excruciating. I am Sammy, in so many ways, and I can't/won't be trotting off to Hollywood to be "true to myself," despite that I genuinely want to at times. I was filled with self-pity and confusion and cried. I had to deliberately remind myself why I've made the decisions I have, and that I'm really glad for them.