Hannah Mary Tabbs and the Disembodied Torso: A Tale of Race, Sex, and Violence in America by Kali Nicole Gross

Posted on February 25, 2016 by pagesofjulia

In this shrewd historical study, a salacious murder trial in 1887 Philadelphia offers insights on criminal justice, violence, race and gender.

hannah mary tabbs

When Kali Nicole Gross (Colored Amazons) came across the case of an unusual 1887 Philadelphia murder, she found a story with many layers. In Hannah Mary Tabbs and the Disembodied Torso: A Tale of Race, Sex, and Violence in America, she explores the intricacies of that case and its implications on criminal justice, a culture of violence and conceptions of race and gender.

Hannah Mary Tabbs was an unusual post-Reconstruction black woman–she unabashedly pursued sex outside of marriage and used violence and physical threats to make a reputation for herself in her black community in Philadelphia’s Seventh Ward. In the white community, meanwhile, she upheld the idea of womanly virtue and subservience to her white employers. Gross argues that this manipulative, variable representation of herself allowed Tabbs to almost get away with a serious crime. Tabbs had a lover whose headless, limbless torso turned up on the edge of a pond outside of town. The man convicted for that murder was, Gross contends, a patsy. The skin tones of the various players in this love triangle appear to have played as large a role as their guilt or innocence.

In prose that demonstrates careful research and offers a realistic reconstruction of the crime, Gross comments on social standards for morality and relationships between races and genders. The case of the disembodied torso is not only a sensational piece of true crime, but an opportunity to reflect on these continuing complexities.

This review originally ran in the February 9, 2016 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish news.

Rating: 6 assumptions.

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Ostend: Stefan Zweig, Joseph Roth, and the Summer Before the Dark by Volker Weidermann, trans. by Carol Brown Janeway

Posted on February 24, 2016 by pagesofjulia

This poetic contemplation in translation illuminates an uneasy creative community of artists and writers gathered one summer as fascism and Nazism are growing in Europe.

ostend

Volker Weidermann’s Ostend: Stefan Zweig, Joseph Roth, and the Summer Before the Dark is a glimmering work of language and an insightful tribute to literary friendship in a singular historical moment.

Stefan Zweig was a successful and popular Austrian writer; Joseph Roth was less successful but also gifted, a tortured, heavy-drinking writer whom Zweig called his “literary conscience.” When war loomed in the summer of 1936, Zweig returned to the Belgian seaside town of Ostend, where he had spent the summer of 1914. His work no longer welcome in Germany, his home in Salzburg defiled by police and his marriage collapsed, he nonetheless joyfully embarked on new work and new love with his secretary, Lotte Altmann. And he brought along Roth, supporting him financially and in his work (support that would strain their complex, fraternal relationship throughout). The troubled Roth, too, found new and rejuvenating love with a German writer, Irmgard Keun, one of the few non-Jews in their small émigré community.

Aside from brief background and epilogue, Weidermann stays within the boundaries of the summer of 1936–the summer before the dark, in which Zweig, Roth and an assortment of “detractors… fighters… cynics… drinkers… blowhards… silent onlookers” manage for a single season to love, laugh and exercise creative genius in a world rapidly falling into war and fascism. Translated from the German into lyrical, meditative prose by Carol Brown Janeway, Ostend is a brief but scintillating portrayal of this season, its spirit and a set of remarkable characters.

This review originally ran in the February 5, 2016 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish news.

Rating: 8 little schnapps glasses.

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Teaser Tuesdays: Sea of Cortez: A Leisurely Journal of Travel and Research by John Steinbeck and Edward F. Ricketts

Posted on February 23, 2016 by pagesofjulia

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading.

I love Steinbeck. I know we just saw this one in a book beginning, but there is more to love. Check out this paragraph.

sea of cortez

The safety-valve of all speculation is: It might be so. And as long as that might remains, a variable deeply understood, then speculation does not easily become dogma, but remains the fluid creative thing it might be. Thus, a valid painter, letting color and line, observed, sift into this eyes, up the nerve trunks, and mix well with his experience before it flows down his hand to the canvas, has made his painting say, “It might be so.” Perhaps his critic, being not so honest and not so wise, will say, “It is not so. The picture is damned.” If this critic could say, “It is not so with me, but that might be because my mind and experience are not identical with those of the painter,” that critic would be the better critic for it, just as that painter is a better painter for knowing he himself is in the pigment.

I think this is a lovely echo (better than the original) of a post I wrote just the other day. And I appreciate the insertion of this idea about critics, since I consider myself one: that we need to recall our place, acknowledge that my impression is only my own. I hope I remember to do that.

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The Cowshed: Memories of the Chinese Cultural Revolution by Ji Xianlin, trans. by Chenxing Jiang

Posted on February 22, 2016 by pagesofjulia

This memoir by a survivor of the Chinese Cultural Revolution poignantly sheds light on an under-examined period in history.

cowshed

Ji Xianlin was one of many Chinese intellectuals held in makeshift prisons, called cowsheds, on university campuses during China’s Cultural Revolution, which began in 1966 and lasted for 10 years. He was mocked, humiliated, beaten and starved. He wrote about these experiences only reluctantly, observing late in life that none of his fellows had done so and that younger Chinese need to know their history in order to learn from it. In 1998, he released his memoir, now translated into English for the first time as The Cowshed: Memories of the Chinese Cultural Revolution.

Ji narrates his years of torment compellingly, in remarkably fair-minded fashion. He claims that his work is not literary, but it is adorned with lovely metaphors: he compares his torture to Indian and Chinese concepts of hell, “a veritable pagoda of horrors,” and makes reference to the steep path to Mount Tai, one of five Taoist sacred mountains.

Ji’s story is painfully moving and beautifully related, elevated by his preface and journalist Zha Jianying’s introduction, and his appendix, an abbreviated memoir of Ji’s whole life that puts the bulk of The Cowshed into perspective. He ponders the question of human nature as basically good or bad, and illuminates Chinese culture with sensitivity and humor; for example, “We Chinese intellectuals are descended from a tradition of scholars who would rather be killed than humiliated.” Until his death in Beijing in 2009, the wise older man who wrote this book remained a patriot who wanted the best for China and who appreciated that he saw the Cultural Revolution so intimately, if only so that he could bear witness.

This review originally ran in the February 5, 2016 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish news.

Rating: 7 cornmeal cakes.

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book beginnings on Friday: Sea of Cortez: A Leisurely Journal of Travel and Research by John Steinbeck and Edward F. Ricketts

Posted on February 19, 2016 by pagesofjulia

Thanks to Rose City Reader for hosting this meme. To participate, share the first line or two of the book you are currently reading and, if you feel so moved, let us know what your first impressions were based on that first line.

sea of cortez

I am feeling good to have finally found time to open a big fat Steinbeck book I have had on my shelves for years (and yes, moved across the country with me). Coauthor Ed Ricketts was, among other things, the model for the character Doc in Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. That was my first Steinbeck, and I loved it, and thus that was my introduction to Ricketts. I have heard about their shared work of nonfiction for years, and spent some time myself on the Sea of Cortez, kayaking by day and sleeping on the beaches of Baja by night. So, much to look forward to here.

The very first lines paid off.

The design of a book is the pattern of a reality controlled and shaped by the mind of the writer. This is completely understood about poetry or fiction, but it is too seldom realized about books of fact. And yet the impulse which drives a man to poetry will send another man into the tide pools and force him to try to report what he finds there.

I have been studying creative nonfiction writing for a while now (aside from reading and appreciating it), so this concept really struck me. I knew I could count on Steinbeck. Now when will I find the time for East of Eden?

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movie: The Revenant (2015)

Posted on February 18, 2016 by pagesofjulia

This review is spoiler-free.

I’m going to be the outlier here, kids: The Revenant is getting good reviews generally, with reviewers already talking Academy Awards and such. I found it a frustrating waste of my time, and it was only out of respect for my neighbors in the theatre that I stayed through the whole thing.

revenantHugh Glass (Leonardo DiCaprio) is part of a fur-trading expedition in some very snowy part of the Midwestern U.S. in the early 1800’s. They are attacked by Indians; Glass is mauled by a bear; most of the crew leaves him with just a few men to care for him, one of whom murders Glass’s son and tries to kill Glass; he is left for dead, but doesn’t die, instead spending the rest of the more than 2 and a half hours seeking revenge. Along the way, every bad thing imaginable happens – mostly to him, but also to a few other unluckies along the way.

A few highlights: the opening battle scene was horrific and graphic but beautifully shot, bumpy and jarring and very real (which will disturb those who are so inclined, but it was well done). The acting was all around superb. Leo did his usual fine job. The scenery was lovely and stark. There was a clever moment to the final scene that I appreciated.

The unreality throughout had me rolling my eyes; it was all I could do to not talk sarcastically back to the screen. (I’m not going to be that guy; but it was hard.) It was truly ludicrous. Yes, I understand this is based on a true story – but only loosely based on a true story on which we have very few specifics. The violence and evil was enormous, ongoing, unrelenting; and it wasn’t leavened or redeemed by humor, uplift, morals, etc. It reminded me dimly of another movie that got decent reviews but that I found gratuitously ugly and rape-filled: Braveheart.

I’ll do the usual spoiler-cover: the following paragraph is in white text; you can highlight to read.

An angry mama grizzly bear makes TWO runs at this Glass guy. Do you know how many people survive that?? Then he goes over a waterfall and later, over a cliff. He, and everybody else, walks in puddles, streams and rivers constantly for weeks and weeks, as the snow piles up and these rivers run with floating ice chunks; but everybody’s feet are fine. Oh, except for Glass’s right ankle, which is so badly broken that it flops at the end of his leg; but a few days or weeks on a makeshift crutch and he walks and runs around like a hale young athlete. Back to those rivers: Glass spends at least many minutes, maybe hours, floating in a river filled with those ice chunks (after going over the waterfall), then climbs out and carries on. I could go on and on, but I needn’t.

Put simply, this guy makes Jack Reacher’s antics look like a Sunday stroll. Fans of that level of badassery with no concern for reality – and a tolerance for gore – will likely be well pleased. It’s not like there’s nothing here to love – excellent acting, striking scenery – but I couldn’t stomach the fantasy. Get me outta here.

Rating: I’ll go as high as 3 toes happily frostbite-free, but only for Leo.

Update: Before I even got this posted, the Umabomber wrote an excellent review proving I am not alone. Hers is here, but it’s entirely spoiler-y, so beware, if you were still going to see this stinker.

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Mount Baker Theatre presents Flashdance the Musical

Posted on February 17, 2016 by pagesofjulia

I went with my parents to a local theatre to see this musical version of Flashdance. First I shall confess: I have never seen the movie. But now it’s on the list.

flashdanceThe musical started on Broadway, but I’m a little vague on its route to us. This local performance employed a New York-based company, but not the same folks who performed on Broadway, and the Broadway-associated website states the last show took place almost a year ago. It was impassioned and fun, but not perfect: the sound was surprisingly poor for a theatre that specializes in musical performances, tinny and muffled. The voice casting was probably imperfect as well; several actors were much better in some parts of their range than others. Overall, the sound quality was poor enough to effect our understanding of the songs & story, which is really unfortunate.

But when the singers hit their areas of confidence and belted it out, they were generally stellar. The dancing was great fun. (Pops reports that he remembers more street-style dancing from the movie, where he found more burlesque here, for what that’s worth.) It’s a cute story. Musical theatre necessarily involves some cheesiness, so the audience is required to make some allowances there, but I’m on board. And I really like the premise, that our protagonist is a welder by day and exotic dancer by night: I love the juxtaposition and the acknowledgment that shit, we’re all complicated beings. This one is based on a true story, you know.

Not perfect, but good enough for me. Movie next, please.

Rating: 7 high kicks.

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Teaser Tuesdays: Mink River by Brian Doyle

Posted on February 16, 2016 by pagesofjulia

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading.

mink river

Totally unsurprisingly, I am thrilled to be back with Brian Doyle, this time in audio format. Mink River is like Martin Marten in that it examines a small town on the northern Pacific coast, and all its inhabitants, human and otherwise. Whimsical is a good word for Doyle, I think. I’m only a short way in but these lines struck me:

Of course, there are many other people in Neawanaka, so very many. Old and young and tall and short and hale and broken and weary and exuberant. So very many it would take a million years to tell a millionth of their lives, and we don’t have the time, worse luck, for their stories are riveting and glorious and searing. But ah, let us choose two…

I am convinced of this concept, that all creatures’ stories are worth telling, if only we could get to them, which we can’t, not all of them. And isn’t the idea well expressed here? Doyle still recommended.

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Every Last Tie: The Story of the Unabomber and His Family by David Kaczynski

Posted on February 15, 2016 by pagesofjulia

David Kaczynski’s contemplation of his brother’s life and crimes is sensitive and skillfully composed, with broad appeal.

every last tie

David Kaczynski is a poet, a former English teacher, an impassioned opponent of the death penalty and the younger brother of Ted Kaczynski, better known to the world as the Unabomber. In Every Last Tie, he contemplates “loving memories and painful outcomes,” hoping to illuminate his brother’s and his own experiences.

Some of David’s message involves correcting misconceptions. For example, he says it was not his heroism but his wife Linda’s compassionate and principled actions that identified the Unabomber. He relates the process of recognizing Ted’s voice in the Unabomber’s manifesto: Linda’s concern, David’s denial, the careful considerations they conducted together and the final decision–betrayal of his brother or betrayal of yet more innocent lives. David often contemplates such difficult questions as how to explain Ted Kaczynski’s illness and actions, coming from a family that David portrays as caring, close and committed to education and integrity. He characterizes Ted as a loving older brother increasingly withdrawn from society, a tortured genius and, finally, a mentally ill man David no longer understands. The decision to identify his brother still prickles. “Ted’s cruelty stigmatizes my good name; but my reputation for goodness comes at his expense. Like all contrived opposites, we reinforce one another.”

Every Last Tie is beautifully written, searingly honest, in no way the sensational tell-all it might have been, but a careful exercise–sometimes emotional, sometimes intellectual–in self-examination. David clearly wants to pile praise on his beloved parents, but chooses to consider their complexities, seeking truth over comfort. The result contains a certain amount of psychological analysis (especially in a thorough afterword by James L. Knoll IV, a forensic psychiatrist who has both studied Ted Kaczynski’s case and come to know David well), but the book is also a meditation on notions of family, “the premise that a brother shows you who you are–and who you are not.” David struggles to reconcile the brother he loved and the serial killer he turned in, but does not belabor the point, choosing instead to remember and share what he knows, and acknowledge the mystery. Knoll’s afterword makes a more pointed criticism of the United States’ “nonsystem” of mental health care.

This slim, intriguing book is the story of a family whose two sons lead different lives. David Kaczynski’s voice is quietly thoughtful, and his writing is lovely; he ranges from family anecdote to psychological puzzle to philosophical musing while retaining an even tone. Every Last Tie is both a straightforward story and a complex consideration of an extremely difficult one.

This review originally ran in the January 26, 2016 issue of Shelf Awareness for the Book Trade. To subscribe, click here.

Rating: 8 letters.

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guest review: Seed by Michael Edelson, from Andy

Posted on February 12, 2016 by pagesofjulia

Andy is my #1 bartender. I have joked to Husband that by doing him the favor of posting this review, I have probably just bought myself another shot or two of Fernet. I don’t even like Fernet.

But I’m always glad to spread the word about a worthwhile book! So here’s Andy.

seedI should probably say up front that I know the author. We’re not good friends, but he’s a familiar name in the HEMA community and when I heard he had written a book, I was curious.

And I’m very glad I was. Seed isn’t in my usual genre area, as I turn more towards fantasy than sci-fi or militaria. But at the same time, the writing was fantastic, the story unpredictable, and the characters, generally, create an emotive reaction from you – whether it’s wanting to punch Max in the face, or slap a little sense into Alex!

The story keeps you going, until you realize that hours have gone by. That’s the greatest craft of an author – total escapism – and that it’s achieved here from a first time author is very impressive.

No spoilers, but just as I thought the book was going down a formulaic route, the tale takes a turn that I wasn’t expecting. Which makes it very readable.

Congratulations, Michael Edelson. You should be very, very proud of your creation. And I’m now stalking you on Amazon for the next books to come out.

Thanks, Andy.

I’ve got a couple of Seed myself now and will be reviewing it in the next couple of months.

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