The Book Challenge discussion

I stumbled a little in 2016 - only managed nine, I think, but it was a year of just needing to bury myself in fluff.

Trying again for 12 non-fiction books this year, and I've already finished my first:

1. (January): Astoria: Astor and Jefferson's Lost Pacific Empire: A Tale of Ambition and Survival on the Early American Frontier by Peter Stark.

I missed the part about Astoria being a failed enterprise. I've lived my entire life in the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, and I was a frequent visitor to Astoria when my great-grandparents lived there. I have always taken it for granted that Astor must have had something to do with the town's establishment in a good way and it never once occurred to me that it was in fact a spectacular failure.

I disagree with Stark's empathy for Captain Thorn. While I wouldn't wish his fate on anyone, he wasn't a man I can feel sorry for - he brought a lot of his hardships on himself.

I didn't like Stark's shoehorning of Sacagawea into the story. Where zero historical record exits to support a hypothesis, it's distracting to speculate on the thoughts and actions of a woman (Marie Dorion, the Native wife of the Overland Party's interpreter) who may or may not have interacted with her. "Maybe the two women talked," "Marie Dorion might have done x" does nothing to support the overall narrative and only calls out Stark's missing information.

It's an interesting, fairly quick read containing a story I hadn't heard.

2. (January, still!): The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Barack Obama.

Yes, I bought this because I was upset with the election results, and yes, I read it now because my brain still can't quite grasp that we went from this to....whatever the hell is coming.

I had never read any of Obama's books, and I wish I had read it sooner. He writes with an easy, conversational voice with some spots of humor mixed in. I found it particularly interesting to hear from him when he was still a very junior senator when only one of us knew where he was going to be in two short years. I'm not feeling hopeful right now, and this was both heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. I'll definitely be adding Dreams from my Father to my list.

3. (January! Who am I, and what have I done with me?): A Long Way Home by Saroo Brierley.

I picked this up at random in the Fred Meyer checkout line. My edition has been renamed Lion and features a picture of Dev Patel on the cover. I'd heard the film is getting good reviews, so I figured "why not?"

I read this in one sitting. The story held my attention and I often had to remind myself that no, these far-fetched events are not a work of fiction: a five-year-old boy falls asleep on a train in Western India, becomes separated from his family, ends up clear across the country, begging in the streets of Kolkata and eventually gets adopted by an Australian family. And then he found his home again 25 years later. Incredible.

4. (January's last gasp): Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right by Arlie Russell Hochschild.

I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what happened in the election, and I still don't understand, even after reading this. I think I need some time to mull before I can comment.

Also, with four(!) of my year's challenge books behind me thanks to snow days and interminable bus rides to and from work, I've earned a break. February will be devoted to fluff; see you in March!

5 (February): Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly.

OK, I lied about filling February with fluff. I tried, but my first attemt turned out to be pretty awful. Last weekend I walked into a Barnes & Noble with a gift card burning a hole in my purse, and this was the first book I saw. Black History Month seemed like an appropriate time to read this story that I never knew about (I, like many, picture white men with buzz-cuts as the brains behind NASA). This is a fascinating story: everything from the women's lives, to racial segregation, to the golden age of aeronautics. I highly recommend it.

6 (February still): Hard Choices by Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Another one I bought after the 2016 election (along with The Audacity of Hope) to try and escape the trauma. I've been trying to read fluffy books this year, but I keep drifting back to non-fiction.

While the first and last sections felt to me like a clear foundation for her 2016 campaign (I have to admit I skimmed the last 80 pages of "American jobs"), most of this book fascinated me. It's one thing to think the Secretary of State is an important Cabinet position, and quite another thing entirely to see in black and white how gruelling the job really is, and how many balls are always in the air. The organization of the book roughly by region is deceptive - at first it was easy to fall into the trap of thinking "Ok, in 2009 she focused on Asia, in 2010 Afghanistan & Pakistan, etc.," but then I started paying attention to dates and a little bit of awe started to creep in.

I appreciated this chance to see some of the inner workings of foreign diplomacy, and the importance of building personal relationships on the world stage.

7 (March): A Fighting Chance by Elizabeth Warren.

I can't for the life of me remember what made me choose this. It was fairly recent: I bought it on my last trip to the bookstore and I went specifically for this book. I just can't remember why.

Anyway: wow. Seriously, wow. I just read a book that is mostly about bankruptcy laws and financial reform, and instead of yawning and pouting my way through all that banking stuff, I hung on every word. Every. Single. Word. Senator Warren laid out the 2008 financial crisis in terms that I actually understood for the first time in all these years.

In between the legal work, the Senator gives us glimpses into her personal life (some heartbreaking, some funny, all generous). Her unabashed, total passion for her work shines through on every page and makes me wish I'd had her for a professor. I am feeling motivated and charged up and still have no interest in getting into finance, but my brain is working.

Also: she made me cry. A lot. And I hugged my dogs a few extra times. She is one to watch, and I'm so glad I chose this book. What an appropriate end to International Women's Day.

8 (March!): Extraordinary, Ordinary People: A Memoir of Family by Condoleezza Rice.

I've had this on my list for years, ever since she appeared on "The Daily Show" to promote the book when it was first published. I was inspired to (finally) read this after I read Hillary Clinton's memoir of her time as Secretary of State, followed by Elizabeth Warren's excellent account of her path to the Senate.

I'm a little conflicted about this one. I agree that her parents were truly extraordinary people, and there's no denying former-Secretary Rice's success, but this memoir felt a little hollow to me. She writes about her parents' drive to give her every possible opportunity, but the "I didn't learn to swim until I was 25 because I grew up in the Jim Crow South" are recounted with almost a shrug. She writes that she's not a victim, but it was kind of hard for me to reconcile the stoic way she writes about the deaths of four young girls in the Birmingham church bombing - girls she *knew* - with other things I've read about the Civil Rights movement.

I found her to be curiously unrelatable and restrained about her work. I think I spent more than half the book being shocked by how spoiled she seemed as a teenager. It didn't help that she disparaged an aunt (at least twice) for having read the same book twenty-five times, and she resolved to avoid turning out like her, whatever that means. Sometimes you just find a book you love that much. I know I have one.

Anyway, she redeemed herself slightly by admitting to singing along to the theme to "The Greatest American Hero," so there's that.

She spent enough of the book focusing on her own career that her parents get a little lost in the narrative. It's actually a little bit of a letdown and a surprise that the book ends with her father's funeral, before she even becomes Secretary of State. I know the book is ostensibly about them, but we have entire chapters where their only appearance consists of phone calls while she's working or studying, so it felt a little abrupt. I'm glad I read it, but I don't feel like I learned anything new, so I'm a little disappointed.

9 (March, and I'm looking for pods): Wait Till Next Year by Doris Kearns Goodwin.

It's still Women's History Month, Doris Kearns Goodwin is a favorite, I love reading about the Brooklyn Dodgers, and Opening Day is this weekend. It seemed appropriate.

10 (April): Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography by Laura Ingalls Wilder.

I received this in the mail today, and finished it in one sitting.

I enjoyed it for the few tidbits I didn't already know, but for the most part it seems like the annotations are mostly along the lines of "she got the year wrong - her age was this/the event happened before this other thing." Laura's voice is as clear as in the Little House series, which was nice, but aside from some license with settings and dates, and some names being changed, the series holds up pretty well when confronted with the true events. I'm glad I finally read it, but didn't find any particularly earth-shattering revelations.

11 (April): Laughing All the Way to the Mosque: The Misadventures of a Muslim Woman by Zarqa Nawaz.

I heard about this from a book list somewhere online, but I can't remember where. I liked reading about Islam in practice from a real person instead of the academic side from all of my religion classes in school. Some of the more personal parts made me a little squeamish, though - there seemed to be an awful lot of discussion bodily functions.

12 (April! Done!): How to Be a Heroine: Or, What I've Learned from Reading Too Much by Samantha Ellis.

This was one of those Amazon "Readers Also Bought..." suggestions, and I was on a bit of a binge (I think I bought six books from Amazon last week), so I shrugged and added it to my cart.

I'm so glad I did. I like Ellis's conversational writing style. I like the glimpses of her family, religion, and life in general in the context of how she relates to the books she reads.

I'm also a little envious: I've never really been able to discuss books and characters the way she does; I tend to boil everything down to whether or not I was entertained, without much thought about what called to me in particular. She makes me want to re-read some of my own favorites - and (sorry, Ms Ellis) really underscores why I will never read Wuthering Heights.

13 (May - I'm not stopping): Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah.

In the first chapter alone, I laughed out loud on the bus, turned the page, and swore in disbelief: "Jesus Christ." Then I had to dig for a tissue because Trevor Noah's story turned poignant and there I was, verklempt on the bus. Repeat for 288 pages. Vary occasionally with a cringing facepalm, especially during a particular DJ scene.

I inhaled this book in three bus rides, a past-my-bedtime reading session, and a lunch break. I kept thinking I should slow down out of respect for the author, but then I wanted to know what happened next and that was that. By the end of the final chapter I was sitting at my desk crying even though I had done a little bit of Internet checking. And while he made me laugh, cry, and marvel, I also found myself thinking about power, race, poverty, and what's in a name. Not bad for a memoir of someone who, until Sunday, I mostly thought of as "just" a comedian.

Must now go and recommend this to some people.

14 (June): Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson.

A month or so ago, Goodreads posted a Facebook poll asking readers to share the non-fiction books we recommend the most often. One of the commenters shared this book, and within a hundred pages I could see why. I've also been running around talking about it to anyone who'll listen.

This book broke my heart every time I picked it up. In simple, straightforward language that still made me cry without making me feel manipulated, Stevenson challenged my perception of the legal system as a place where everyone is equal. On some level I know that's not always true, but to have it framed for me in terms where I had to consciously keep reminding myself that the primary case happened in 1987, not 1927, was a bit of a shock to my sheltered nervous system.

While I haven't completely abandoned my support of the death penalty in extreme cases (mostly serial killers, who are not part of this narrative), this book gave me a lot to think about. I was struck the most by a line in the postscript, about how the question shouldn't be "does this person deserve to be killed?" but "Do we [as a society] deserve to kill?"

Just a little light reading and thinking for a June day, and I really do recommend this.