The World According to Garp

"If Garp could have been granted one vast and

naive wish, it would have been that he could make

the world safe.  For children and for grownups.

The world struck Garp as unnecessarily perilous

for both."

This month has been a slow reading time (and a binge-watching Netflix time).  I'm waiting on some books reserved at the library, and so I grabbed an old favorite off the bookshelf.  I first read John Irving in high school; I believe the first of his books that I read was A Prayer for Owen Meany.  That book wrecked me.  It was so beautiful and heart-breaking and, at times, hilariously titillating.  I worked my way through most of his work up through the early 2000's, with Owen Meany remaining my favorite, one that I have read over and over throughout my adult years.  I also enjoyed The Cider House Rules, which was made into a fairly successful film and earned John Irving an Oscar nomination for adapted screenplay.  I did a group project on The Cider House Rules my senior year of high school, and I think it's obvious that its themes of orphans and unwanted pregnancies affected me, as I later became an adoptive mom.  Oh yes, I read them all, from Setting Free the Bears and The Water-Method Man to Son of the Circus and Trying to Save Piggy Sneed. 

But the book that is currently laying next to my bed is John Irving's first huge success, The World According to Garp.  I remember giggling over some of the sexualized passages with a friend in study hall, and as I'm re-reading it, I realize that so much of the material dealt with in the novel went right over my adolescent head.  Also, I forgot how funny the writing is.  There are so many ways the language and word choice serves multiple purposes, so many jokes and turns of phrase throughout Garp that I'm only now appreciating.  According to Wikipedia, this is the work that made Irving "independently wealthy", and it's not hard to see why.  Garp is shocking; it is honest.  The main character is frustratingly arrogant and deeply flawed; he is likewise naive and kind.  The book is filled out by a cast of characters who are completely outlandish and also terribly relatable.  As I lay Garp down and turn off the light each night, I find myself asking HOW?  How did John Irving write this?  What is his secret?  What can I do to capture the world according to Rachel as well?

It's not exactly beach reading, but my current recommendation is to check out John Irving.  Start with The World According to Garp.  If you have time, follow with Owen Meany, Cider House, and A Widow for One Year.  Then gear up for Avenue of Mysteries, Irving's new book to be released fall 2015.  Prepare to laugh, then cry, then laugh a little harder as the tears continue streaming down your face.

Books on Marriage

There are many books published each year on the subject of marriage.  How to Divorce-Proof Your Marriage.  The Five Love Languages.  His Needs/Her Needs.  The Complete Idiot's Guide to Marriage.  I have picked up many of these books and started to read them.  Then put most of them down after the first chapter.  My biggest complaint about marriage books is the tone of condescension that runs throughout.  "He left his socks on the floor...again!"  "She spends too much time on the phone with her mother!"  And we all (supposedly) have a good laugh about how men and women are different without ever scratching the surface of what makes marriage hard or what makes marriage good.  Not to mention that neither of these "problems" has ever occurred in my own relationship.

That's why I was so pleased this past year to read two really helpful, good books about marriage.  The first was Love and Respect by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs.  Since he is a marriage counselor, this book had the typical "case studies", which can be a little dry or hokey.  "Steve was burned out after a long day at the office, and Miranda just wanted someone to listen.  Eventually Steve learned to open his ears and Miranda got a bikini wax."  (Wait, was that from the Sex & the City movie?)  Anyway, this book's use of the real-life couples was not so bad as to put me off from reading it, and it had some very good insights.  In his description of "the Crazy Cycle", I recognized a pattern that Chris and I have frequently participated in.

The other book I read was The ZimZum of Love by Rob and Kristen Bell.  I have always been a fan of Rob Bell's work, and I was interested that he chose to write with his wife when tackling the issue of intimacy and marriage (especially since he went solo on a book called Sex God).  The ZimZum was not just full of wisdom, it was fun to read.  Instead of narratives and didactic messages, the words are broken up by stick figure drawings and transcribed "conversations" between Rob and Kristen.  This book just sounded so much like the relationship that I have with my husband...it was real and honest and full of laughter.

My biggest takeaway from both books is this idea that our spouse morphs from the person we love more than anyone into our enemy.  We get to the point where every. little. thing. sends us into a rage spiral, thinking this person is against me, he is disrespectful or dismissive or insulting.  But why?  Why would we ever think that our spouse of all people is trying to destroy our happiness?  I think I tend to just forget that we are a team.  I don't communicate how the little things make me feel until they've turned into a big thing.  What seems like insensitivity is often just inattentiveness.  So my focus is to remain on the same side as my husband, instead of turning against him like an Old West showdown.  Figuring out how to work together so that we both are feeling loved and valued, side by side as we journey through this life.

Anne of Green Gables

"Well, anyway, when I am grown up," said Anne decidedly,

"I'm always going to talk to little girls as if they were too, and I'll

never laugh when they use big words.  I know from

sorrowful experience how that hurts one's feelings."

I remember the start of 5th grade so clearly: in a new school building, with lockers and changing classes, riding the bus for the first time, I felt so grown up.  And during the first week of school, as we were orienting to the building, I was led into the library.  What a glorious place!  So much bigger than the elementary library, with lots of tables.  It was in this room that many interests were launched.  Greek mythology, great inventors like Wilbur and Orrville Wright, and, most importantly, the books of L.M. Montgomery.  It was in the library at my intermediate school that I discovered my literary "kindred spirit", Anne Shirley.

I bonded to Anne immediately: she is described as being gangly, talkative, and overly imaginative.  Check, check, and oh yeah, check.  When I discovered Anne of Green Gables, I suddenly knew that I wasn't alone.  In fact, there might be little girls throughout time and space who were awkward nerds loving their made up worlds yet also kind of wishing they could fit in.  Reading about Anne running around naming all the trees near her house and playing in the woods with her friend, the echo made me feel less weird as I explored the underground sewers of my neighborhood and collected rocks.  Knowing that Anne devoured books and memorized poetry made me feel better about the stacks of books I brought home from the library.  And reading about Anne's fits of anger let me know that I wasn't the only one with that problem.  There was only one thing keeping me from being Anne in real life...the color of my hair.  Although Anne bemoans her red hair throughout her life, I secretly began to wish that my blonde hair would suddenly turn bright red.  Then I would wear it in two braids and let it grow long, and later wear it in giant buns as Anne did when she left Avonlea for college.

Not only did Anne provide a much needed sign that I wasn't born wrong, she offered a promise that gave me hope.  I was never going to be the most popular girl in school, but Anne showed me that all I really needed was one true friend, and that would be enough.  She was right.  Shortly after discovering Anne, I met my own "Diana Barry", a friend who proved loyal and kind no matter what.  Just like Diana provided a normalizing presence to Anne, so Melissa gave me an anchor in the real world.  Anne shows us that everyone, no matter their quirky habits or plain, homemade dresses, is capable of finding a friend.  There was another promise that came later in the Anne series, a promise that once a smart young woman has accomplished all she hopes to and starts looking around for a boyfriend or husband, one will appear.  No, teenage boys do not find smart girls with biting senses of humor attractive.  But we have too much on our minds to worry about it at the time, so it's okay.  But later, well, later we want someone to appreciate our wit and fall in love with us, flaws and all.  And my young heart took the resolution of Anne's adult love story and clung to the idea that the very boys who suffered my wrath in school would someday become handsome suitors wanting more than anything to marry me.  And again, I only needed one.

So, for this especially cold and snowy month of February, my recommendation is to wrap up in a warm blanket and re-read Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery.  And if this weather doesn't let up, I just might read through the whole series to Rilla of Ingleside.

*Did you know that Prince Edward Island has begun capitalizing on it's literary fame and offering Anne of Green Gables vacation packages?  Can you say Bucket List?

I Feel Bad About My Neck

This month I read "I Feel Bad About My Neck" by Nora Ephron.  I chose it on a recommendation that it is funny (and it is!) and also for nostalgic reasons, as this woman wrote a couple of my favorite movies (Sleepless in Seattle and When Harry Met Sally).  I wanted something light and easy (and it is!), but I also found this collection of essays to be poignant and thought-provoking.  After all, the theme that ties each piece together is centered on aging, which we are all doing each day of course, but also something I'm not at the point of noticing quite as much as a woman in her sixties.

What first struck me about "I Feel Bad About My Neck" was Ms. Ephron's essay about purses.  It is a difficult time to be a woman who doesn't care about purses, who doesn't carry one most of the time because it feels like too much work, who finds it baffling that there are whole stores devoted to selling handbags and clutches and apparently we are supposed to be excited at the prospect of a new purse and also to compete with other women in order to have the latest or cutest one.  So when I read, "This is for women who hate their purses, who are bad at purses, who understand that their purses are reflections of negligent housekeeping, hopeless disorganization, a chronic inability to throw anything away, and an ongoing failure to handle the obligations of a demanding and difficult accessory," I felt at once understood and validated.  And her concluding advice to purchase an inexpensive, horribly ugly bag that can never go out of style because it has never been in style sounds like the next logical step for my own life.

The book continues on in this funny, self-deprecating style, as the author recounts a life that has seen highs and lows and marriage and divorce and motherhood and empty nest syndrome, all of which has contributed to the wisdom and sagacity which she shares with us.  The book concludes with the essay "Considering the Alternative", which is the response the author is confronted with when she complains about the aging process.  In light of the fact that Ms. Ephron has since passed from this world, that she is now experiencing the alternative, these words prove to be especially poignant:
  "Do you splurge or do you hoard?  Do you live every day as if it's your last, or do you save your money on the chance you'll live twenty more years?  Is life too short, or is it going to be too long?  Do you work as hard as you can, or do you slow down to smell the roses?  And where do carbohydrates fit into this?  Are we really going to have to spend our last years avoiding bread, especially now that great in America is so unbelievably delicious?  And what about chocolate?"

If the purpose of essays and memoir is to pass along knowledge gained and provide insight on the meaning of life, I think Ms. Ephron has hit both spot on in this collection.  While our lives are vastly different, each page revealed a woman after my own heart, whose delight in the pleasures of food and friends match my own.  And since she passed shortly after writing these essays, it is my sincere hope that she got her fill of delicious bread and indulged in some extra chocolate.  I think I'll celebrate her life by doing both tonight.

Orphan Train

If you've read the Insomni-Mommy for any length of time, you have probably figured out that I love orphans.  Like heartbreakingly, can't stop thinking about them, LOVE orphans.  In my life, this love has led me to become a licensed foster parent, to adopt my son, to recently speak with a group of college students about my experiences.  So I was excited when Christina Baker Kline's novel "Orphan Train" came into my possession via my sister.  The title was enough to draw me in, and the book did not disappoint.

Sometimes I feel like the best representations of actual orphan care are found in novels like this one.  As I read the dual narratives of Niamh in 1928 and Molly in 2011, I was struck repeatedly by the truth and authenticity of their experiences.  Not only does this novel capture the orphan experience, but it also displays how our society has changed its treatment of orphans and its attempts to "solve" the problem of abandoned children over the course of the last 100 years.  Additionally, these stories do not shy away from the difficulties of bonding and moving forward after losing one's family.  It is a very real issue in orphan care today, just as it was in the past, that children find familial bonds challenging when they have suffered such a tremendous loss.  I applaud the author for thorough research as well as putting it all into words so beautifully and creating this compelling work of fiction.

I also just finished a work of non-fiction called "Orphans of the Living" by Jennifer Toth.  It makes a terrific companion to "Orphan Train", telling the stories of five youths living and emancipating from foster care in the 80's and 90's.  Toth holds an unflinching microscope up to an imperfect system (one that has thankfully seen some reform thanks to President Clinton, but could still use more) and gives a voice to a population that is sadly voiceless.  Much of what Toth writes about the emotional lives of these children convenes with what I have witnessed as a foster parent, and it makes me both sad and angry that these children's needs are so often unmet.  A common refrain while reading this book could be, "What is WRONG with people?!"  But it is that reality which drove my husband and myself to stand up for orphans, to step in to the gap they are falling through, to resolve to be safe caregivers for all the children who pass through our home.

Mrs. Kimble

I've enjoyed a quiet summer over here, and that has offered me the chance to read more.  I finished 9 books in July, one of which was the novel Mrs. Kimble by Jennifer Haigh.  This is a book that I wish I'd written.  I love intersecting narratives and stories that are carried over years and locations.  Mrs. Kimble tells the story of a man (Mr. Kimble) from the perspective of the three women he marries, as well as his oldest son. 

We meet the first Mrs. Kimble (Birdie) in the 1960's, in the wake of her husband's disappearance.  She knows he was unfaithful, but in the standard of the times, she was willing to overlook anything as long as the bills were paid and the car maintained.  Suddenly, she is forced to take on the roles of Mom and Dad to her two young children, something she is ill-prepared for.  Birdie tells how she met her husband, the early years of their marriage spent living in a house with his parents, and she shares how the man changed over time.  Ultimately, Birdie sacrifices her suburban dream and returns to her childhood home, where she lives with her step-mother and near her childhood love.

The next Mrs. Kimble (Joan) couldn't be more different from Birdie.  She is an independent woman, a journalist in a male-dominated field, more interested in covering riots in Paris than nurturing a home.  But then she finds cancer in her breast and the subsequent treatment sends her reeling.  In the aftermath, she meets Mr. Kimble, and in a reversal, decides it's not too late to have a family.  A few years into the marriage, she finds the man who once intrigued and flattered her to be cold and secretive.  Her interest in having a family with him never materializes and soon she finds another lump, which ultimately takes her life.

In the late 70's, the final Mrs. Kimble appears in the form of Dinah, the Kimble's former babysitter.  10 years after her initial crush on Mr. Kimble, she finds herself falling in love with the man, and ignores the disapproval of her family or anyone else who finds their age difference distasteful.  By now, Mr. Kimble has become a wealthy man, from the inheritance of his deceased wife and his new career in real estate.  The Kimbles have a child and Dinah abandons the path she was on before meeting her husband.

What is revealed in these different places and stories is a man who is a chameleon, who carries no sentiment or memory of his past as he moves on to a new wife, a new home, a new experience.  What his wives have in common is finding this man when they are weak, when they are desperate for love and companionship, when they are easily seduced by an attentive man.  They each make Mr. Kimble what they need him to be, although ultimately his private nature keeps them at arm's length, so that each Mrs. Kimble experiences loneliness in her marriage.  I found the book to be well-written and intriguing, even as I despised Mr. Kimble for the emotional collateral he left in his wake.  It has a voyeuristic appeal in the story as we are offered glimpses behind closed doors and inside aching hearts.

Atlas Girl

I had the privilege to be part of the Atlas Girl launch this month, and I was eager to read through Emily T. Wierenga's memoir.  I've read Emily's blog for a couple of years now, and I already knew that she was a beautiful writer.  That much is evident from page one of Atlas Girl.  The book begins with Emily's relationship with her parents, and it sounds familiar.  The strict pastor dad.  The rebellious older daughter.  But as her words transport you along the many places of her life, continually you are grounded in real places, real memories, and so you never forget that these are not characters in a story, but her actual family.  So when her journey takes its own unique course, when it departs from all the preconceived notions that you retained after watching Footloose too many times, you don't know what will happen next or how it will all turn out.  Emily's story is tied up in the family she created, as well, and she pulls no punches as she chronicles a love that holds her close, forgives her outbursts, and proves the 1 Corinthians passage true as a love that never fails.

But if I'm really honest, I'm also a little jealous of the life she leads.  She is married with little boys, like me, but she is a published author, an artist, a world traveler.  Just scanning the table of contents of this book reads like a tour of the world.  Emily pours her heart out in the pages of her book, and only as it reached the conclusion did I realize how hard-won all her accomplishments are.  Suddenly, I'm not feeling jealous, but inspired at all that has happened, all that she has overcome and struggled through.  I encourage you to purchase a copy of Atlas Girl: Finding Home in the Last Place I Thought to Look, or, if we are friends in real life, I will happily let you read my copy :)  Also, check out her website (www.emilywierenga.com) for her lovely essays about body image, motherhood, faith, and love.