The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (Rebecca Skloot)

Another book that has gotten quite a lot of buzz for a little while now. I wasn't sure if I wanted to read it, since it sounded like it would be a biology book and, really, even popular science books tend to go totally over my head. But the book club I attend picked this book for the next meeting. Considering I hadn't read the last two we had chosen (although I did read one of them right after the meeting), I figured I owed them this one.

I'm so glad I read it! Skloot explains the science in a way that's understandable to anyone and, most importantly, she tells the story of Henrietta Lacks and her family in a gripping way. After all, it's not like this story should surprise anyone. It may, but it shouldn't. It did, however, make me angry.

It all started in the early 1950s when Henrietta Lacks felt a lump in her cervix. The doctors didn't really pay attention at first. Indeed, she even had a healthy delivery of her last child after she'd felt something was off. Later on they found the cancer that would kill her sooner rather than later. Of course, the doctors at Johns Hopkins--which did have a ward for African-Americans at the time--took samples of her tumor and of healthy tissue. At the time, George Gey had been trying to cultivate cell cultures with little success in keeping them alive. With Henrietta's cells, however, he found what he'd been looking for.

Henrietta's cells, also known as HeLa, have been instrumental in plenty of medical breakthroughs in the last 60 years, including the development of vaccines and cancer treatments. Here's the thing: for-profit organizations have made millions upon millions selling HeLa cells. Nobody had bothered to tell the Lacks family, much less Henrietta when she still lived, that they had taken the cells and kept them alive. The Lackses did find out and much of the story Skloot tells is about their ordeal trying to learn and come to terms with what Henrietta's cells have meant to the world.

Skloot did a fantastic job of telling the story from all sides, though it's quite clear she became close to the Lacks family, in particular with Deborah Lacks, Henrietta's daughter. She's quite up front about it, so you know there is some bias in the book. Still, I think most of us would also have been bothered by the arrogance some doctors show in light of what happened. After a court decision that basically established that your cells are no longer your concern after they leave your body, a Stanford researcher smugly said that patients can try to negotiate what happens to their tissue when they come in with a ruptured appendix. It still pisses me off to think that someone can be such a damn bastard.

My reaction probably stems from the fact that I intensely dislike doctors. I only go if I have to. That's my own issue. That said, I doubt people would object to having their cells used in research that has helped save lives. But doctors have a very unfortunate tendency to forget these cells come from people. And really, Deborah Lacks wanted everyone to remember that her mother was a person--someone that had children and loved and felt pain and happiness. A little respect and recognition would have been nice.

Great book and very much worth reading.

Next up: The Weird Sisters, by Eleanor Brown.

The Tiger's Wife (Tea Obreht)

This book has gotten quite a lot of buzz. Tea Obreht has already won plenty of critical acclaim for her short stories, so expectations for her first book are high. And she hasn't disappointed.

I will admit that this book probably went over my head. OK, it totally went over my head. But I still enjoyed the Obreht's writing and her creativity. The book has multiple story lines with the story of Natalia and her grandfather serving as the anchor. The book gets its title from a story Natalia's grandfather tells her about his childhood.

Surprisingly, that story doesn't dominate the bulk of the book. It shares the spotlight with the story of the deathless man. Natalia's grandfather meets the deathless man during one of the wars that appear in the book. This character should come across as a little creepy, but he grew on me. The man is shot and drowned and still manages to keep himself in a pretty good mood. Who would have thought, right?

I don't think I'd ever read something set in the modern-day former Yugoslavia. I'm around the author's age (OK, she's a couple of years younger) so I don't remember too much about the conflict there in the early 90s. Obreht took me there, even if on a bit of a surreal cloud. Maybe it's more of a statement on what I usually read than on Obreht's writing, but I haven't read anything quite like this. If you're looking for a casual read, this book isn't for you. But the writing is quite enjoyable--and quite good--and worth the extra brain cells required.

Next up: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lack, by Rebecca Skloot.

The Countess (Rebecca Johns)

This should have been an awesomely gruesome and creepy book. In The Countess, Johns tells the story of Elizabeth Bathory, aka the Blood Countess. Reportedly, she killed hundreds of young women that worked for her and she bathed in their blood to remain young and beautiful.

Seriously. This should have been super duper awesomely creepy!

And it wasn't. Totally wasn't. In fact, it was kind of boring. That this is my reaction is partially my fault. After all, when you pick up a book about one of the most notorious serial killers in history, you have certain expectations. This book did not meet my expectations.

Johns decided to write the story from Bathory's perspective. In the book, Bathory is writing to her son about what "really happened". She starts describing the day when the bricklayer and his son came to wall her up in her prison. Elizabeth Bathory was pretty much entombed alive in one of her castles. Not exactly a noble end to a member of one of the most powerful families in Hungary at the time. She also married into another powerful family. The story does go that she earned her husband affection after disciplining an unruly servant girl. He, too, seems like quite a piece of work. That said, it wasn't unusual for servants to get this type of treatment back in the 16th century. Still, Elizabeth Bathory probably took it to an extreme.

Did it play into some people's hands that she turned out to have gone completely nuts and beaten and starved so many of the girls in her service? Yes, it did. After her husband's death, Bathory controlled plenty of wealth and holdings. I'm sure several powerful men, including the king of Hungary, had to have their eyes set on her properties. That they did not order her execution is a testament to her power and standing.

For me, this book held my interest in the beginning, where the reader sees Bathory's father punish a gypsy that sold his daughters to the Turks in quite a gruesome way. After that, it told a similar stories to others I've read. Like Catherine d'Medici  and others that entered arranged marriages, she has to struggle to make her marriage work. It picked up towards then end, when other start questioning Bathory's actions. For most of the book, she talks about disciplining her servants as a chore. It is chilling, but her focus really lies in other things so we don't get a good idea of how many women she may have killed. I suppose that's part of her psychosis. She doesn't really think about what she's done because she doesn't think it matters.

It was probably a very realistic portrayal. Much more so than most vampire novels out there. Johns did a great job. I think it just the book just wasn't for me. Which, you know, is fine. I don't regret reading it, so I guess that's something.

Next up: The Tiger's Wife, by Tea Obreht.

When Tito Loved Clara (Jon Michaud)

I'm pretty sure I decided to read this book after reading a very positive review, but for the life of me I can't remember from what publication. Still, I'm glad I stumbled upon that review. That's one of the reason's book sections should never die. Readers need more ways of finding great books.

Anyway, When Tito Loved Clara tells a story from three perspectives. Of course, the narrative comes mostly from Tito and Clara. They were high school sweethearts. They kept their relationship under wraps because their fathers had a falling out. You'd think both fathers would come across negatively, but Michaud definitely has some villains in this story and Tito's father isn't one of them. Clara's father--well.

Clara and Tito end have taken very different roads. Clara went to college, married a white man, moved to the suburbs, and basically avoids going back to her old neighborhood at all cost. Tito still lives with his parents, in the same apartment, and has held the same job since high school.

And although they have the same ethnic background--they are both Dominicans--their family roots differ in key ways. Clara's father and stepmother abuse her, while Tito's parents treat him lovingly. Actually, they kind of spoil him. Most of the story takes place while these two are in their mid-thirties, so, really, Tito shouldn't still live with his parents.

Clara's life, of course, isn't the stuff of fairy tales. Even though she's achieved a certain lifestyle, she still has plenty of problems. Even though she and her husband (Thomas, by the way) have a little boy, they are having problems getting pregnant again. She also has to deal with a crazy sister that dumps her pregnant teenage daughter on her. Not the mention some drama with her laid off husband that she doesn't even know about.

Tito, in the meantime, has dreamed up a happy alternative life while not doing all that much to make that happen. He still carries a torch for Clara, even though he hasn't seen her since the summer after graduating high school. Honestly, though it may seem sweet for a little bit, after a while Tito can get a little creepy.

Dominican culture features prominently. It's enjoyable, though some stereotyping inevitably happens. Although, really, plenty of stereotypes about use Caribbean Latinos have at least some truth to them. Happily, my sister is NOTHING like Clara's sister. Lord help anyone that does.

Good first book. I'm glad I read it.

Next up: The Countess, by Rebecca Johns.

The Mistress of Nothing (Kate Pullinger)

So the reviewer in The Washington Post that complained about the fact that this book beat out Alice Munro's Too Much Happiness for the Governor General's Literary Award (a Canadian prize) wrote that this book read like a romance novel and that it was pretty much a big mistake to give it the award instead of Munro's collection of short stories.

I can say with all honesty that this makes me think that this person has never read a romance novel. So there! Romance novels have a formula, and this book does not follow it at all. At. All.

Of course, most of these awards go to books that are depressing. Most great works of literature are depressing. I enjoy books with tragic stories, as anyone can tell from checking out this blog. This book was just as depressing as Munro's. Does that mean it was better written? No. I can say Munro's work stories definitely had much more complicated plots. I don't think that means that The Mistress of Nothing isn't a good book.

Anyway, I don't presume to know what the judges at these competitions think. Though I love to read, I can't say that I enjoy high literature. So if you decide to check out those books, you can decide for yourself who should have won that prize.

In my opinion, Pullinger delivered a well written and well researched book. She wrote the story from the point of view of Sally Naldrett, Lady Lucie Duff Gordon's maid. Lady Duff Gordon suffered from tuberculosis and the doctors told her she needed a drier climate, so she moved to Egypt. Sally went with her. In Luxor, Sally falls in love with their Egyptian guide, Omar. They have an affair that has tragic consequences--more for Sally than for Omar.

I hadn't heard of Lady Duff Gordon before. She published a book of her letters from her time in Egypt and had gained some fame as a literary translator. Apparently, many that knew her loved her. Sally did, too. Unfortunately, in this story, she comes across as a heinous bitch. Not all the time, mind you, but she treats Sally horribly once she finds out about the affair. In a way, she personifies someone that I've come to dislike intensely: a person of privileged that has the ability to show kindness as long as it's towards someone that doesn't affect them directly.

Pullinger kept the story moving pretty well, and Sally makes a good narrator. Maybe it would have been a more exciting story if she had chosen to tell it from Lady Duff Gordon's point of view, but it's great to get the story from a perspective that most tend to ignore.

If this review seems a bit tepid, it's because my reaction to the book was tepid. To put it simple: it was alright.

Next up: When Tito Loved Clara, by Jon Michaud.

Room (Emma Donoghue)

I heard from quite a few people that this book was absolutely amazing. A co-worker told me she pretty much locked herself away an entire weekend to finish it. One of my book club friends also highly recommended it, that it is one of the best books she's read.

Usually this level of praise makes me skeptical. Not to mention that I'd already decided to avoid the book because of the subject matter. A little five year-old boy, Jack, tells this story. He lives with his mother in Room. He doesn't know anything else and thinks the world outside Room is Outer Space. So, everything in Room, to him, is unique. So it's Table, instead of the table; Toilet, instead of the toilet; Rug, instead of the rug.

Of course, that means his mother had him in Room and that she too can't get out. The man that locked her up, only known as Old Nick, kidnapped her at 19. So this gives me the hibbie jibbies. She does the best she can raising Jack, teaching him what she can and making due with what Old Nick provides. Mind you, he doesn't really provide for them. She has to ask for things like medicine for "Sundaytreat," as Jack calls it.

Even though Jack is telling the story, you can get a feel for how his mother feels. They have few books, which of course they've read multiple times. She tries to keep him as active as possible within an 11' by 11' space. Her teeth are rotting, she suffers from bouts of depression. All things considered, she's doing an admirable job of raising her son. Considering the inherent boredom that must come within this type of situation, the book is never boring. Donoghue has painfully flawed characters--something to appreciate, since it would have been so easy to make Jack and his mom saint-like.

I think the story didn't end up creeping me out because Jack tells it. He doesn't know anything different from Room, so his perceptions aren't shaped on what he's missing. He's smart and inquisitive, and the combination of that with his lack of knowledge of the outside world drive his mother into taking a huge risk to get him out of Room.

Totally worth the short amount of time it takes to read. That doesn't mean it's simple and you'll forget about it as soon as you finish it. You'll be thinking about it for a while.

Next up: Mistress of Nothing,  by Kate Pullinger. This is the book that beat out Alice Munro's Too Much Happiness for the Governor General's Literary Award, in Canada. The reviewer from WaPo was quite outraged by this. I'll let you know if I think he's right!

The Distant Hours (Kate Morton)

Another fantastic book from Kate Morton! I stumbled upon her work previously when I picked up a copy of The House at Riverton. It was tragic and beautiful and mysterious and I enjoyed ever moment of it. Morton continued in that vein with The Forgotten Garden, again a tragic story that you just couldn't put away.

I highly doubt Morton will ever write a book with a syrupy plot. And, frankly, that's not what you should look for in her books. It's not what I look to her for anyway.

We start Edith, who lives in London and works in publishing. She developed a love of books after her mother, Meredith, gave her a copy of The True History of the Mud Man when she was laid up in bed sick as a child. Turns out that the writer of that book, Raymond Blythe, lived at Milderhurst castle with his three daughters. Persephone (Percy) and Seraphina (Saffy) the twins, and Juniper--and Meredith lived with them after she her parents had her evacuated out of London during World War II.

Meredith and Juniper had developed a close friendship. Indeed, our story starts when Meredith finally receives a letter Juniper had written 50 years before. Edith is there when Meredith receives the letter. Edith  visits Milderhurst thought she doesn't tell the sisters who she is; she finds that the three sisters never married and have lived at Milderhurst castle all these years. Juniper, however, in her delusional state still manages to know Edith isn't a stranger. Of course, Juniper thinks Edith is Meredith.

From that point Edith does everything she can to find out as much as possible about her mother's life, especially of her time at Milderhurst. If you've read Morton's previous works, you know the story will have plenty of twists and turns. The Distant Hours does differ in that it has a much more Gothic feel to the story. Morton manages the pacing quite well, though I do confess that I was tempted more than once to look ahead to see what happened. It also helps that a literary mystery has a pivotal role in the plot.

So, bottom line: loved this book!

Next up: Room, by Emma Donoghue