The Scent of Lemons

I recently read The Lemon Tree by Sandy Tolan; I truly enjoyed it for a number of reasons having to do with hope, enlightenment, and a better world view. One aspect I especially appreciate is the balanced tone. This is no easy feat when you consider the overall theme of the book: the prospect for Mid-East peace.

The author alerts you to his intention in his introduction. He sets as his goal the use of actual source documents as opposed to speculation. He wishes to suppress his own voice, since his voice has no weight in this story: what follows is admirable. When he focuses on Bashir, he uses Bashir's words and his paradigm. When he discusses Dahlia, he uses her point of view, her writing. When he tackles the delicate issues between them, he uses their words to each other, spoken as uneasy friends. He supplements with third-party writings and a review of events. Tolan's "handling" of the issue is to not have handled it at all, but to have laid the facts of the matter before his readers. In addition, he has done so while retaining the emotion, the angst, the pathos of both points of view. I came away with compassion for both sides, with love and respect for both families. I felt, in a small degree, the weight of the problem; I stood in the middle and was emotionally pulled in two directions. What better way to experience the nature of this thorny problem? I have learned more from this book than from all my previous reading combined. I cannot say when I have been better served.

Tolin looks at the lives of two families whose opposite but similar histories weave around the same house. A lemon tree, planted in the house's courtyard by the Arab family, becomes a delicate and poignant symbol of their shared and troubled dilemma. By chance, the two families lives intersect, when events bring Bashir, the Arab and Dahlia, the Jew, together in a tenuous friendship. Tolan makes a fine effort to retain a balance without which this story cannot be credible.

Book Love

I have recently had a reading "dry spell." It isn't that I haven't read anything. In fact, like most humans who read, I read almost constantly. I look at labels in the grocery store, I note street signs and public advertising, I scan my incoming bills and bank statements, and I glance through the newspaper. To paraphrase Descartes: "I read, therefore I read." What I mean to say is that I haven't read anything good.

"Ah, 'good,'" you say. "How subjective." And, of course, you're right. I could tell you what I have attempted to read but that isn't totally fair. For the record, my analysis is that one was well written, just not on a topic that caught my interest. I thought the other rather badly written for such a fine scholar. It wandered almost as much as did my attention. But it isn't that either book was good or bad, but simply that they left me so unsatisfied.

I work in a library and consider myself a professional, so it is with some chagrin that I managed to come up with two losers in a row.

There seems to be a number of methods for choosing a book to read. If you are a sheep, you can read the NYT (or in all fairness, almost any other) book review. I find these uber snarky. Sort of in the "You are obviously too cretinous to possibly know a good book when you see it, so let me choose for you" category. "Wait!" say you. "How about you, Ms. self-important blogger?" And I would concede, except for one fine point: I have the sneaking suspicion that these reviewers have a vested interest in how a book review slants. Do I sell books? Do I receive galley copies? I think not. By the way, as previously mentioned, "bestselling" does not necessarily mean worthwhile.

If you really trust your friends' opinions, you can take their advice. That strikes me as dangerous: will I look at my friends differently when I read their books and find that they (the books, of course) reek? How will we look each other in the eye? What will we say to one another? Bashing a person's book choices can be as personal as criticizing their date.

You could read synopses from reputable publications. These (theoretically) don't have the taint of the reviewer's ego. It would be a respectable method as long as you factor in the particular biases of the publisher. There is also a matter of the skill and accuracy of those writing such briefs. Think TV programming guides. I rest my case.

I tend toward a tried and true method: the "strolling down the isles of the bookstore or library" method. I will admit that attractive cover art can sway me. When you think about it, this is the same method as falling in love. You scan the candidates; one makes your heart beat a little faster! You take some time, learn more, hold and touch, evaluate and weigh the relative merits. Then you commit. Sure, once in a while, it doesn't work out, and you are disappointed. But I am a believer that a great book, like enduring love, is just around the corner.

So back to the stacks we go, looking for the One.

Language Conservation

It is my goal to write a post to my blog without any grammatical or spelling errors. Wish me luck.

I’m the cranky (youngish) biddy who rants, given any opportunity, about the demise of civilization as we know it, rants usually brought on by some assault to the English language. For example, I once had a very respectable car that misspelled “gauge” on the dashboard (you know, where the gauges are). I have seen misspelled words in glossy big-circulation magazines, news crawlers, highway signs, and places you would strain to believe.

Even more pernicious than the simple misspelling, though, is the cringingly awful grammar. From poor sentence structure to appalling word selection, some modern media is almost too painful to be borne. It seems that as print media falls to the tidal-wave of internet use, online magazines and e-news carriers surge to fill the void. In too many cases, they fill it with text-ers, not writers. Word-hacks.

These media companies are not roadside produce stands conveying their messages by means of hand-lettered signs on pieces of cardboard pizza box. They are often well known and respected journals. Why, then, are they now comfortable unleashing a herd of word wholesalers on an unsuspecting public? Did the demands of a new market reality outstrip journalistic pride? Or is the internet seen as such an informal medium that beautiful prose no longer matters? Are the well turned phrase and the carefully selected word considered passé? Does this not create a new poverty to pass on to our children?

Here’s the interesting part. I have read blog entries so beautifully written as to put shame to the big-time online media mills. These are voices crying in the wilderness. It is as though a generation of instinctive journalists has been dislocated. The process of writing has so changed that one has to find a footing again in a spelling- and grammar-checked world. These brave souls are saying, “Okay. The world has changed, but there is still a place for a well crafted sentence.”

And so, I return to my stumbling effort. I admit that I am spending more effort than usual to shape this idea. A lot depends on getting it right. It’s like environmentalism: a few see the need to conserve, preserve, treasure up; they persevere until the rest of the world sees and agrees and is saved. For all my passion about preserving language, I am like the new recycler, sorting the plastics from the orange peels: what is worth keeping?

In language, as in litter, the packaging makes all the difference.

Read a Child's Book Now and Then

For those out there who think they are too sophisticated to read kid-lit, you may just find a surprise or two in the short stacks.

Some of my favorite must-reads:
Anything by Sandra Boynton, but especially the music and book sets. Once, when I worked in a fairly pretentious bookstore, we sneaked Grunt: Pigorian Chant onto the sound system. Of course,to get the humor, you have to be following along in the book. We were FOFL, as they say nowadays. And the music is very well done.

Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. I confess: I have only read the kids books. But the sweet, sassy and slightly seditious poetry dares you to at least raspberry the established order. Come on. You know you want to.

Lately, I read The City of Ember. The movie was nice, but if you want to imagine the edgy fear of lights going out in a city rimmed by the dark unknown, you really have to have the scenario inside your reader-brain. You readers know what I'm talking about.

There are lots more. Sometimes, adult reading becomes predictable in its relentless pounding adult-ness. Give yourself permission to go back to reading books that are meant to instill values, strengthen social commitment, teach cooperation, tolerance and love. We nurture our children on the values we care about. Why, then, do we allow ourselves to believe that we are not "grown-ups" unless we fill our heads with grinding bleakness?

Was I ranting? I think I'll go find a kids book now and lighten up.