In one of those "confess a bunch of stuff about yourself to your friends when you're bored or procrastinating" sort of email surveys, a friend of mine once completed the sentence "Love is..." with "an obligation." I won't go back and re-hash my feelings about that response (I disagree, for the record, and have been through the discussion with a number of individuals - if you want to discuss it with me further, just ask), but another similar question has been posed to me recently.
I attended the wedding of a good friend from college on Sunday. Several times during the service and reception speeches, individuals referred to love as a choice that is made. Again, I don't think I can agree. If love were a choice, it wouldn't be as complicated as it is. It would never hurt - because saying that it is a choice implies the ability to turn it on and off. And I don't think we do that. I don't think we choose whom we love any more than we choose the color of our skin. I think love is something that finds us. I don't think that kind of emotion and attachment is something we decide - it's just something that happens.
This is also, I think, the thing that makes it joyful - one of the most sought after things in most people's lives. The way it sneaks up and takes a person by surprise is the same thing that makes it both challenging and wonderful. But I just can't think that any part of it is something we choose. Can we choose whether or not we are open to love? Certainly, but isn't choosing not to love, it's just denial.
And all of this speculation makes me nostalgic. I had a lengthy and lovely email conversation about the nature of love 5 years ago (gasp - I'm so old) with a male, eventually resulting in the best compliment I've ever received. I really, really wish I still had those emails. I also really, really wish I still talked to him - that sort of discussion is something I could use more of. Although, maybe part of what makes me look back on it so fondly is that it was limited. Who knows...and maybe I don't need to.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Book Review: Nineteen Minutes
by Jodi Picoult
I'm a frequent critic of a book that tries to accomplish too many things. Nineteen Minutes comes very close to that line. The storyline follows multitudinous characters and its complexities are never-ending. And yet, it is told so well that I can hardly find this as a flaw. Had Picoult been weak in any one part of the plot, I may not have been as forgiving - but lucky for us both, she did not.
The novel centers around an event that lasts 19 minutes, during which a student goes on a shooting rampage in his high school, and encompasses flashbacks to the characters' childhood, adolescence and their days, weeks and months immediately preceding the shooting. Then, the author follows the same characters through their mourning, recovery and the trial. All of these pieces are interwoven seamlessly so that, although the chapters make leaps in time from one to another, the order appears to the reader the most natural thing plausible.
The issues covered are numerous - and this is where my only criticism falls. I find myself curious to know more about nearly all of the characters, and would almost prefer a series of stories told from each perspective to allow a more in-depth look at their nature and thoughts. Alas, this is not available to me, and so I must rely on my own thought and imagination - which is never a bad thing. However, despite the novel's 451 pages, I was left wanting. Both a good and a bad thing. Good, because sometimes books that leave themselves tied up in a neat package with a red bow can be unsatisfying; bad, because I think to some extent this is due to a lack of full exploration. Additionally, the buildup seemed more complete than the conclusion, which felt somewhat rushed and simplistic following the complexity of the majority of the story.
However, despite any want for depth I may have had, I have to commend Picoult on her character development. There was not a single character to which she failed in establishing for me an emotional connection. The most significant of these being the "villain" of the story - the shooter. She strikes a key balance in bringing out the lovable, as well as the challenging, in each of the story's characters which allows for the reader's full exploration of emotion.
Generally, the book was not only quick and easy to read but also thought-provoking - a combination that does not present itself frequently. It's absolutely worth reading.
I'm a frequent critic of a book that tries to accomplish too many things. Nineteen Minutes comes very close to that line. The storyline follows multitudinous characters and its complexities are never-ending. And yet, it is told so well that I can hardly find this as a flaw. Had Picoult been weak in any one part of the plot, I may not have been as forgiving - but lucky for us both, she did not.
The novel centers around an event that lasts 19 minutes, during which a student goes on a shooting rampage in his high school, and encompasses flashbacks to the characters' childhood, adolescence and their days, weeks and months immediately preceding the shooting. Then, the author follows the same characters through their mourning, recovery and the trial. All of these pieces are interwoven seamlessly so that, although the chapters make leaps in time from one to another, the order appears to the reader the most natural thing plausible.
The issues covered are numerous - and this is where my only criticism falls. I find myself curious to know more about nearly all of the characters, and would almost prefer a series of stories told from each perspective to allow a more in-depth look at their nature and thoughts. Alas, this is not available to me, and so I must rely on my own thought and imagination - which is never a bad thing. However, despite the novel's 451 pages, I was left wanting. Both a good and a bad thing. Good, because sometimes books that leave themselves tied up in a neat package with a red bow can be unsatisfying; bad, because I think to some extent this is due to a lack of full exploration. Additionally, the buildup seemed more complete than the conclusion, which felt somewhat rushed and simplistic following the complexity of the majority of the story.
However, despite any want for depth I may have had, I have to commend Picoult on her character development. There was not a single character to which she failed in establishing for me an emotional connection. The most significant of these being the "villain" of the story - the shooter. She strikes a key balance in bringing out the lovable, as well as the challenging, in each of the story's characters which allows for the reader's full exploration of emotion.
Generally, the book was not only quick and easy to read but also thought-provoking - a combination that does not present itself frequently. It's absolutely worth reading.
Book Review: How to Rig an Election
by Allen Raymond
After reading Allen Raymond's How to Rig an Election, I have but one question: How did this guy get and stay married? I mean, seriously.
The book calls into question all that is truly at the heart of morality. Raymond graduated from college and after a few years in the work world, he asked himself "what's next?" and decided to go back to school for politics - not for a love of government or any of its pieces or forms but rather because he thought he might be able to do it. What followed was a downward spiral into a life where there was only fuzz, never a line, between what was right and wrong, where the only thing that mattered was success. In all my disbelief for the things that occurred throughout his story, I was also mesmerized, because I think his story is very real. Lines are blurry, not only in the political world, but everywhere. Raymond's case may be an extreme example and his candor may be unique, but he's such a case study for the reality of our world today.
A key question comes toward the end of the book, when Raymond's wife says to him "At the end of the day ... it comes down to who you are. When you're alone and confronted with yourself, do you like what you see?" I won't tell you how he responds, but I will tell you that by this point in the book, I was surprised by the answer. At the heart of this book is not only a story about the political world, but one man's struggle with morality. With Raymond, the reader experiences a struggle to weigh success and value with acceptability.
I was a little nervous picking up Raymond's story. My take on our government and political system tend to be a little more cynical than I'd like them to be, and it's easy for me to lose my normal positive outlook when I feel overwhelmed by some of the truths of the world around me. They're weighty. And I feared this story would put me into one of those states. Luckily, although the path the book takes is definitely one of uncovering the unsavory realities of the world, its open nature almost makes up for the problems it uncovers. Instead of making me downtrodden, it made me nearly empowered - more confident in my ability to think through to the truth and to make my own decisions rather than to take at face value.
All in all, Allen Raymond's memoir of conspiracy is not only a valuable inside look into the political climate that is especially prevalent in our current election year but also an examination of the human condition and the struggle for power and success as well as the process of deciding right and wrong as well as the line of acceptable individual behavior.
After reading Allen Raymond's How to Rig an Election, I have but one question: How did this guy get and stay married? I mean, seriously.
The book calls into question all that is truly at the heart of morality. Raymond graduated from college and after a few years in the work world, he asked himself "what's next?" and decided to go back to school for politics - not for a love of government or any of its pieces or forms but rather because he thought he might be able to do it. What followed was a downward spiral into a life where there was only fuzz, never a line, between what was right and wrong, where the only thing that mattered was success. In all my disbelief for the things that occurred throughout his story, I was also mesmerized, because I think his story is very real. Lines are blurry, not only in the political world, but everywhere. Raymond's case may be an extreme example and his candor may be unique, but he's such a case study for the reality of our world today.
A key question comes toward the end of the book, when Raymond's wife says to him "At the end of the day ... it comes down to who you are. When you're alone and confronted with yourself, do you like what you see?" I won't tell you how he responds, but I will tell you that by this point in the book, I was surprised by the answer. At the heart of this book is not only a story about the political world, but one man's struggle with morality. With Raymond, the reader experiences a struggle to weigh success and value with acceptability.
I was a little nervous picking up Raymond's story. My take on our government and political system tend to be a little more cynical than I'd like them to be, and it's easy for me to lose my normal positive outlook when I feel overwhelmed by some of the truths of the world around me. They're weighty. And I feared this story would put me into one of those states. Luckily, although the path the book takes is definitely one of uncovering the unsavory realities of the world, its open nature almost makes up for the problems it uncovers. Instead of making me downtrodden, it made me nearly empowered - more confident in my ability to think through to the truth and to make my own decisions rather than to take at face value.
All in all, Allen Raymond's memoir of conspiracy is not only a valuable inside look into the political climate that is especially prevalent in our current election year but also an examination of the human condition and the struggle for power and success as well as the process of deciding right and wrong as well as the line of acceptable individual behavior.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
And We're Left to Carry on and Wonder Why...
On Sunday we'll have been without you for 2 years. And I need you Benner. Remind me that you're ok. Help me to know that, although we're sad, you're happy. Let me believe that your last moments were spent joyfully...that maybe you didn't know, that you truly lived to that final instant, without fear. And mostly, be with me - help me to never forget that although I can't see you, you're here with me in every moment, in every way. I miss you.
All the people who say it gets better with time are in denial, or just don't actually know. Just because I'm able to trick myself better and for longer periods of time into believing that it's not real doesn't mean it hurts any less at those moments when the truth flies back at me like a boomerang I foolishly flung away to get rid of. The hole in my heart is still gaping and raw. It's unpatchable. There are good things in my life, they make themselves known to me every day, and still they only fill in around the edges of the wound...sometimes soothing it temporarily, but never filling it in. And now, when the memories of what I was doing at this time 2 years ago are circling in my brain like vulchers, that hole feels swollen and heavy.
My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
Every now and then you come to mind
'Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side
Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
But my demons and my angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought I'd be
Too afraid to hear the words I'd always feared
Leavin' you with only questions all these years
But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be
Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear,
Try to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side
But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
When this isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be
Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
Was it you that kept me wandering through this life
When you know that I was always on your side
All the people who say it gets better with time are in denial, or just don't actually know. Just because I'm able to trick myself better and for longer periods of time into believing that it's not real doesn't mean it hurts any less at those moments when the truth flies back at me like a boomerang I foolishly flung away to get rid of. The hole in my heart is still gaping and raw. It's unpatchable. There are good things in my life, they make themselves known to me every day, and still they only fill in around the edges of the wound...sometimes soothing it temporarily, but never filling it in. And now, when the memories of what I was doing at this time 2 years ago are circling in my brain like vulchers, that hole feels swollen and heavy.
My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
Every now and then you come to mind
'Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side
Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
But my demons and my angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought I'd be
Too afraid to hear the words I'd always feared
Leavin' you with only questions all these years
But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be
Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear,
Try to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side
But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
When this isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be
Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
Was it you that kept me wandering through this life
When you know that I was always on your side
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