I want to babysit for Ursula Wong.

The main character (sort of) within Ingrid Hill's novel 'Ursula, Under' is a precocious little girl named Ursula Wong. Her dad, Justin, is a Chinese-Polish (yup, you read correctly) blue collar worker and harmonica player (musician if you will). Annie, Ursula's mom, is a quiet but colorful librarian who barely escaped from an alcoholic father not long after her beloved mother died. Annie as a young girl was struck by a car while out riding on her bicycle and as a result, is crippled for life. Given her painful emotional and physical experiences growing up, as well as her love for adventure [and literature], she sets out with her husband to delve deeper into her family's origin; roots, if you will. Fate brings the small family to a former mining town in middle America where Annie searches for the cave where her great-grandfather died, years before. The rambunctious and active Ursula runs down an abandoned road to follow a deer and falls down an old mine shaft, and thus the story begins. I will admit that while I immensely enjoyed each of the mini stories within this novel, the tales of Ursula's ancestors, from which she came to be, I couldn't always follow the lineage trail. I got the general gist, and that coupled with the charm of each story/chapter, gave me a solid appreciation for this book. I found the characters to be likable, sympathetic, exasperating, angering, delightful, and admirable. I read this in just two settings, and with the complexity it boasts chapter to chapter; I might recommend that any reader attempt to do the same. 'Ursula, Under' forced me to question my heritage and wonder about all the great-great grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles and cousins who have/had stories I have never heard. The fables or stories throughout the book all lend weight to the same question....how do you measure a life? A profound and thoroughly enjoyable novel...and the last before my half-way point. Happy reading!

Lucky number 13...

She did it again. Barbara Kingsolver absolutely blew me right out of the water with 'The Lacuna'.  I feel confident in saying that never has an author so skillfully taken one character's story through three decades in history. What a beautifully written, stunning novel. Harrison William Shepherd is the son of a divorced American (D.C. bound) father and a Mexican mother. A level-headed, calm tempered man and a fiery hot, trendy, passionate woman, came together to borne into this world a character, a man, of great depth, intelligence, talent and ultimately, dignity. This boy who turns into a man between 1929 and 1951, and over the course of 500 pages, is a foreigner wherever he roams. A gringo, or American in Mexico, a Mexican or traitorous Communist in America. Kingsolver demonstrates that she is truly, unquestioningly, a master of the literary trade, as she gently folds into the dough that is Harrison's story, some of the most influential figures in the 20th century; Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, Leon Trotsky, etc. The book tells Harrison's story through diaries (his own as well as others), articles, and letters. From the time he is a young boy subject to the every whim of his spontaneous mother to his later-in-life settling down in Asheville, NC; Kingsolver paints Harrison as a wholly likable, completely sympathetic character. The beginning description of the boy's experiences in Mexico were mysterious, colorful and utterly delicious. I found myself loving and hating Frida Kahlo at the same time; wanting her to be reasonable while admiring her fire and genius. I felt as though I could taste on my tongue every pastry the young Harrison prepared, feel every sense of elation when he was singled out and asked to cook or write, and be gutted with every abandonment. Later in the novel, I was taken back to the same period of history I seem to be magnetically drawn to lately, when Harrison is forced to defend himself in front of the Un-American Activities Committee in his adult life. Again, I found it staggering, despite my recent foray into this time period, to fully accept and comprehend the allowable hysteria that spread through this nation, and around the world...turning neighbors, friends and co-workers against one another. It makes me frighteningly aware of how authority figures, whether they be in families, the government, or place of work, have the ability to spin the truth to suit a very dark, and terrible mission. I applaud Ms. Kingsolver in her ability to change Mr. Shepherd's voice as he matures through the years, from an eager child, to a timid but intelligent teenager and then a near celebrity adult. Just like his fans, I think I fell a little in love with Mr. Shepherd by the end of this tale; celebrating and admiring his eloquence (when living his life and defending such as well), his kindness (in dealing with his dear friend and secretary, Ms. Brown) and his deeply rooted and swiftly found passion. The only times I felt the true girth of this novel (and its 500 pages) were each and every occasion where I was forced to set the book down to attend to my 'life' only to return again when time permitted. I urge the reader to persevere. Though the first few chapters are interesting, they are dry as compared to the vivid color and life as the rest of the book. Ms. Kingsolver has, once again, written a lovely and apt to be celebrated, page turner. In one word: breathtaking. 

As if Chihuly wasn't enough of a reason to visit Washington...

Now I absolutely have to go. Stop 1....visit Tacoma and see the Bridge of Light...Step 2, visit Seattle to take a walk through the infamous Panama Hotel. This desire to roam around the West Coast occurred as I finished 'The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet', Jamie Ford's debut novel. The story opens in 1986, with Henry, a Chinese-American man, agonizing over whether to enter the Panama Hotel and peruse through belongings left behind by Japanese-Americans during World War II when all were sent to internment camps. Ford deftly moves between the 1940's and the 1980's; unraveling the tale of Henry and Keiko, the Japanese-American girl whom Henry befriends and grows to love. I do not know what was more thrilling about this book, the spot on usage of historical faction or the fairy tale love story that had me from page 1. Ford parallels the strained relationship Henry shares with his son Marty again the difficult relationship he had with his traditional Chinese father [and mother]. The irony lies in the fact that Henry rebuffed his father's attempts at cultural preservation and discipline, and then separated himself from Marty through his clinging to old traditions and superstitions. Although the description of the internment camp(s) is as objective as possible in such a tale, I found myself thoroughly reminded of and horrified by our (humans) capacity for hatred. It made me poignantly aware of today's stereotypes and racism; starkly evident throughout communities, small and large, around the country. Henry's father called to mind not just the danger of hatred, but the capacity humans have for depravity when faced with fear. Though you can smell the sadness and desperation of the characters through Ford's colorful writing style, it doesn't make the danger and small mindedness of it all any more palatable. Although I can see why some might be turned off by the slightly saccharine ending; I would fully enchanted. Given the wounds that Henry was forced to suffer through deliberate deception, hatred, and worst of all, just life at its worst, I cheered at the end.  Better than that, I consider myself to be open minded and liberal, and all loving, but this novel made me acutely aware of the small prejudices that I might carry around, a flaw and a burden. Furthermore, it helped me release them into the wind. That is a solid novel. Four stars, two thumbs up....a MUST READ.