American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld.

I just finished American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld (who is a female...who knew?) last night and an obsession has been born.  American Wife is an epic novel.  It's fat and engaging and completely impossible to put down.  Score one for my friends Maggie and Jill who recommended it to me in the first place.

I have often been mocked for my love of historical fiction, most often my husband.  But I love books that take an actual time and place in history and weave it in to a gripping fictional tale.  A good example of this is The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory (if you have not read this, run and do so immediately).  But my new favorite historical fiction is Sittenfeld's American Wife.

I don't know that American Wife actually qualifies as historical fiction because even though we all know it is written about former First Lady Laura Bush, Sittenfeld never refers to Bush in the book.  In the book we are following the life of Alice Lindgren from the time that she is young girl growing up in small-town Wisconsin to her unlikely title of First Lady.  American Wife had me from the very first sentence ("Have I made terrible mistakes?") and revealed a side of President and Laura Bush that I never gave much thought or consideration to.  I'm somewhat desperate to know how much of Sittenfeld's tale was fictionalized and how much was truly a shocking insight in to the life of Laura Bush.

American Wife is comprised of four sections, each cleverly referenced by Alice's address at the time, beginning with her childhood home and ending with 1600 Pennsylvania Drive.  In the first section, we discover Alice's happy, simply childhood, her devotion to her grandmother, and her rather goody-two-shoes-esque existence.  Then, of course, we come to a fateful day at the start of Alice's senior year where the worst happens and alters Alice's (Laura's) life forever.

Alice attempts to move up and on from tragedy and is happily settled in Madison as a school librarian when she attends a friend's backyard barbeque.  And whom should she meet but Charlie Blackwell (i.e. George W.).  

To be candid, I have never been President Bush's biggest supporter.  I did not vote for him and our politics are quite disparate.  But darn it if I didn't find myself liking him in the early parts of this novel.  He was charming and bumbling...Sittenfeld did a spot-on job of creating a character - Charlie - that was exactly what I would have imagined President Bush to be like back before we all knew him as President.  And the novel unfolded, I swung between liking Charlie/George, not liking Charlie/George, and, finally, just feeling sad for Charlie/George.  I was struck by the fact that Bush ended up being, in many circles, a leadership failure and, well, not a man highly respected for his intellect.  But American Wife showed a different man, at least initially.  What if Charlie/George had chosen a different path?  What if he had not pursued politics?    As the novel dove deeper, and as Alice/Laura was dragged down with it, I repeatedly pondered how much our choices shape us and how drastically they can alter our lives and, perhaps, our true selves.

But American Wife was truly Alice/Laura's story.  I found that Alice/Laura was (is?) a far stronger person that I ever imagined.  If Sittenfeld's Alice is truly representative of Laura Bush, then I unjustly judged Mrs. Bush and owe her far more credit than given.  I found myself imagining what it would be like to be married to a President who unfortunately left behind a tarnished legacy.  And I found myself feeling so darn sorry for President Bush.  We elected him.  We put him in that position of power.  And I see now that he gave it everything he could.  I really believe he did the best he could as President.  It was we the people who did not put him in a position to succeed.

American Wife was simply marvelous.  It was a fantastic insight in to the White House and the Bush administration.  And it served as a necessary reminder that our political leaders are Democrats and Republicans and pro-life and pro-choice and all that comes with that but they are also just regular people too.  Because of American Wife, I've now added some biographies about Laura Bush to my reading list which is surprising.  I am eager to learn more now about who President and Mrs. Bush are.  I think it was rather bold of Sittenfeld to write American Wife and I think the end result is simply masterful.  I know I say this a lot but this is one of the very best books I have ever read and I implore you to please read this book.

Big in China by Alan Paul.

I've shared before my desire to live the expat life one day.  When we used to have cable television, Greg and I loved watching DVR'd episodes of House Hunters International on HGTV.  The show documents the house hunts of people and families moving to locations all around the globe.  We loved it and used to dream of Greg being hired by an international company or firm that would provide housing allowances and contract positions in England or Singapore or Russia.  We still do.  In fact, if you have trouble reaching us one of these days, perhaps we've done it.  Perhaps we have up and gone and are knee-deep in an international adventure.


Big in China is Alan Paul's memoir of his foray in to Asian culture.  Score another point for GoodReads, who suggested this book to me based upon my "read" shelf".  I was excited to read this book in part because, as the cover eludes, Big in China was about Paul's "unlikely adventures raising a family...in Beijing" and also because my aunt and uncle have been living in China for many years.  Paul's book seemed to promise an enjoyable tale of his family's expat life while also giving me more insight in to the culture my aunt and uncle have come to know so well.


Paul delivered.  Big in China was a fun, engaging tale that had a pretty perfect blend of humor and emotion.  Paul is an incredibly likeable father and husband whose wife, Rebecca, is high up with the Wall Street Journal.  They are living a comfortable life in a New Jersey suburb when Rebecca is offered a job with the WSJ's Beijing office.  The offer is both a fantastic career advancement opportunity for Rebecca and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for their three children.  Without much debate or fuss, the couple signs on for the move to Beijing.


There were several things that I really enjoyed about Big in China.  One, Paul is a freelance writer and editor who also serves as his children's primary caretaker.  Paul's stay-at-home dad status made is easy for me to connect with him and also, I think, lent a softer, more emotional quality to the tale.  Paul juggles the children's schedules and activities all while trying to pursue and expand his own passion for music and his admirable desire to make the most of his family's time in Beijing.  True, the family lives in a gated community with a cook and nannies and drivers - Paul is the first to acknowledge that the housing allowance provides greatly for their "fake-rich" Beijing life - but Paul puts forth great effort to seek Asian life and culture outside of his Beijing Riviera bubble.  I loved how much the family worked to embrace their new surroundings.  Once of my favorite lines from the book was that "thriving expats accepted life in China for what it was and tried to take advantage of it all".  Paul seemed to live by this mantra each and every day he was in Beijing.  


I also loved how Paul's musical hobby became a full-fledged career in Beijing.  Big in China focuses on the organic evolution of Paul's rise to unexpected fame and does so in a way that truly capture the unlikely nature of it.  I laughed out loud often over the absurdity of it but also really loved the story and the friendships and adventures that Paul has along the way.  Big in China was a very fun, entertaining, easy read.  You don't have to be a music-lover to enjoy the book but don't be surprised if Paul's passion seeps in to your heart.

Where You Left Me by Jennifer Gardner Trulson.

I used to have an odd, inexplicable feeling towards the generations of Americans who had experienced something so impactful that they remembered exactly where they were when it happened.  Scores of Americans will never forget where they were when Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered or when President Kennedy was shot.  It seems wrong to say that I was jealous of such an occasion - obviously the reason everyone remembers where they were is because the event was so horrific and unexpected - but I can't really come up with another way to describe it.  I felt a sense of marvel at having something so extraordinary happen in your lifetime that you and millions of others would always remember the moment.


And then I found myself sitting on my blue couch in my Alki Beach apartment, eating frozen waffles and watching a plane fly in to the World Trade Center.  At first, I was confused and uncertain.  I did not fully realize what I was seeing and I surely did not understand the gravity of the situation at first glance.  I went downstairs and woke Greg up and told him what had happened.  We turned on the television in our room and we watched as the horrifying terrorist attacks unfolded.  Like everyone else, we were glued to the television for days and weeks.  Eventually I had to make a decision to turn off the news.  I could not stand any more of the tragedy.  I could not handle seeing any more posters of the missing.  And I could not shake the painfully sad thought from my mind that so many men and women - so many moms and dads - had simply awakened the morning of September 11, 2001 and kissed their families goodbye and gone off to work.  They'd done what they did every day and this time they didn't come home.  


Jennifer Gardner Trulson's memoir, Where You Left Me, is her profoundly aching tale of how 9/11 forever changed her life.  Just pages in to her story, we learn that Jennifer's much beloved husband, Doug Gardner, was a senior executive at Cantor Fitzgerald.  As soon as I read that, I knew what was coming.  


Doug was on the 105th floor of the South Tower that morning.  Jennifer was dropping her children off at preschool when her babysitter rushed at her, screaming that she needed to get home and call Doug.  Jennifer got home in time to see the North Tower collapse and a numbness took over her that would remain for a very long time.  


Where You Left Me is, initially, almost torturous to read.  Not because it isn't written well - quite the opposite in fact.  Jennifer writes which such a painful, raw honesty that I had to repeatedly stop and breathe and wipe away tears before I could keep reading.  Jennifer wrote in a style that was different than other memoirs I've read.  Her story jumped around, from past to present in just sentences.  It initially felt a little jumbled to me but then I began to understand that the somewhat disjointed story-telling was likely extremely reflective of what life feels like after your spouse is taken from you in such a terrible, violent, frightening way.  


Jennifer candidly leads us through so many delicate moments in her post-9/11 life.  And when she unexpectedly, and somewhat unwillingly, finds a new companion, she shares that adventure with grace.  I couldn't help but imagine what I would do if I found myself in Jennifer's situation and I think one reason why I enjoyed her memoir so much was because I think she so genuinely revealed all the fears and questions and guilt that most of us would feel if we found ourselves in her shoes.


Where You Left Me is an important memoir that personalizes a national tragedy.  I cried and I laughed and I felt hopeful when it ended.  I will never forget where I was on September 11, 2001, and Jennifer's memoir did a wonderful job of reminding me of the families that carry on each day, each month, each year knowing that the anniversary of the event that changed their lives is always coming around again.  Where You Left Me was such a loving tribute to Jennifer's hero and to the good people who rallied around her and her children when they needed them most.  May we all be so blessed as to have such people in our life when we fall down and may we always remember those who lost their lives on September 11th.

The Idle Parent by Tom Hodgkinson.

Motherhood is a funny thing.  It is, all at once, the most challenging, rewarding, demanding and enjoyable thing I have ever (and will ever) attempt.  As my daughter grows, life becomes easier and harder at the same time.  I've only been at this for three years but I see already how old worries and challenges slip away and are immediately replaced with new fears and new demands.  It's funny how a behavioral issue can seem so insurmountable and then, one day, it's just gone.  It's funny how much time can be spent worrying and stressing over a moment so fleeting, so temporary.  


I think I first encountered Tom Hodgkinson's The Idle Parent on GoodReads.  Based upon other parenting books I have read, The Idle Parent showed up as a recommended read.  I'm glad it did.  Parenting books can be so hit or miss for me.  I don't want something too preachy, too self-righteous, too statistical.  I want reality and humor and honesty.  From the first page, Hodgkinson seemed to promise me all of that and he kept his unspoken word.


Hodgkinson is a witty, brilliant, self-deprecating Brit who is married with three children.  Self-deprecating humor is my favorite (and something I like to think I've been perfecting for years) and I took an immediate liking to Hodgkinson's easy, laid-back writing style.  Each chapter addresses a different, relevant parenting topic but the overall message is always the same: the less we do for our children, the more they (and we!) will benefit.  


In an era where it seems mothers have all become participants (some willing, some not) in some sort of Pinterest-y, do-it-all-and-look-good-doing-it race to the Mother of the Year finish line, I found The Idle Parent to be a huge gush of fresh air.  Hodgkinson effectively argues that we do too much for our children, that we cater to them too much and thus raise dependent, whiny, needy children who are incapable of caring for or entertaining themselves.  This message really hit home for me as my current struggle is encouraging (and, at times, demanding) that my daughter play by herself for a portion of each day.  As much as I enjoy spending time with her, I fear that she is coming to rely on me too much for entertainment and play.  I want to raise a confident, independent girl and The Idle Parent has gifted me with many ideas on how to achieve that.


One of the notions that Hodgkinson discusses is that we do not expect our children to do work.  He argues that children need to learn to be a contributing part of the household.  He also argues that work need not seem like work and encourages parents to make work in to play.  In chapter two - Stop the Whining - Hodgkinson's message of "only the powerless whine - put them to work" resonated deeply with me.  My daughter has definitely been dabbling - big time - in whining lately and chapter two gave me some exciting ideas on how to combat the whine.  One idea was to have the entire family gather to wash dishes together after dinner each night.  Yes, most of us have perfectly good dishwashers but Hodgkinson's point was that this is part of teaching kids that we all play a part in the family and that family together time can encompass many different activities.  Though I initially felt some guilt about it (with thoughts of child labor floating around my head), I have begun to employ my daughter to help with dishes.  And you know what?  She LOVES it.  She is giddy to help with the dishes.  These little creatures of ours want to help so much and, although it often means more work for us parents, it really is best to let go and let them.


Another recommendation that Hodgkinson shared was how important our words are when requesting something from our children.  It is so important to them to feel in control and to make their own decisions.  When we demand that they get to the table for breakfast, they can often rebel and pitch a fit simply because it wasn't their idea in the first place.  Hodgkinson suggests saying "I'm going to go to the kitchen and have some breakfast.  Would you like to join me?"  Genius.  I've tried this tactic with my daughter and it really does work.  It gives them a feeling of autonomy while never really releasing the parental reigns.  Hodgkinson shares that when children feel oppressed, they naturally rebel.  This stuck with me and has helped me focus on changing my words or my approach in order to allow my child to feel more powerful and, therefore, to be more cooperative.  


Hodgkinson states that "we waste an inordinate amount of time and energy in attempting to correct faults that, given time, will correct themselves."  He specifically mentioned table manners with this.  For months on end I have been battling/begging/bribing Marina to please sit still and face the table when eating.  It is the most dreadful, losing battle of all time and it drives me mad because I desperately want her to have proper manners.  Reading Hodgkinson's advice on this has both hindered and helped me.  I understand what he is saying and I'd love to try to let this go and find peace in knowing that age will smooth this bump in the road.  But I also worry that ignoring the behavior sends the wrong message too.  Nonetheless, I think Hodgkinson has the right idea on so many fronts that I am inclined to try to find some sort of balance between our current battle and choosing peace.


I loved The Idle Parent.  It is another parenting book that I'd like to have on my shelf to refer to time and again.  So much of what he shared seemed so reasonable and simple that I wondered why I hadn't thought of it and why I over think this parenting thing so much.  Hodgkinson presents a simpler, more natural approach to the challenge of parenting that I am officially embracing.  I appreciated Hodgkinson's humor and candidness and wholeheartedly recommend The Idle Parent.  

Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein.

There were so many things that I swore I would never do as a parent.  Of course, these declarations were all made in a semi-naive, pre-parenthood state of mind.  I can't even recall most of them now because, as it turns out, sometimes parenting comes down to doing what works and sometimes that means doing those exact things you never said you'd do.  


One thing that I do recall sharply is how I was adamant that my daughter was not going to wear pink 24/7 and live in a pretty pink princess land.  I didn't want my daughter to feel that pink things were for girls and blue things were for boys.  My mom used to receive a catalog from a company called Lillian Vernon.  I used to love thumbing through the catalog as a young girl but I remember, even at six or seven, feeling a little perturbed and a little pissed that all the girl things were pink and ballerina-based and all the boy things were red, yellow, and blue and were baseball-based.  I grew up loving softball but the catalog clearly seemed to be telling me otherwise.  


Initially we stuck by my anti-pink battle cry and opted to buy our daughter tiny clothes in a rainbow of colors.  We kept her room decor pretty gender-neutral.  But that was three years ago and an inventory of her current possessions/wardrobe sounds a little like Shelby's description of the church in Steel Magnolias ("my colors are blush and bashful").  Pink tricycle, pink kickball, pink blocks, pink blankets, pink sweaters, pink, pink, PINK.  Just today she told Greg and me that someday she would be old enough to drive a car.  I asked her what kind of car she wanted and she said "a pink truck".  


Enter Peggy Orenstein's book Cinderella Ate My Daughter.  I'm not going to lie...this book caught my eye because it is sparkly and I love a good sparkle.  Also, the title?  What?  I had to know more.  In Cinderella, Orenstein is a mom on an investigative mission to get to the bottom of this new pink/pretty/princess movement that seems to be taking over the world.  She goes every where and talks to everyone, from a marketing bigwig at Disney to a child development expert at ASU, to discuss what effects the princess culture has on our daughters.  She also explores the world of tiny beauty pageants and what taking our social lives online means for young girls today.  


Cinderella Ate My Daughter had me feeling a bit stuck between thinking we should just let our girls play with what they choose to play with and being abhorred by the very specific, very targeting "pink and pretty" marketing ploys (the banners hanging in the Fisher-Price exhibit at the toy trade show?  Seriously?).  One of my favorite parts of the book was when Orenstein visited the child development center at ASU.  The research being done there indicates that "years of same-sex play leave kids less able to relate to the other sex".  The researchers keenly noted that boys and girls playing alongside one another does not mean they are playing together.  They are designing early childhood programs to encourage more cross-sex play which, they proclaim, will lead to easier transitions to dating down the road as well as longer-lasting relationships.  I found this rather fascinating and spent some time pondering how to encourage my daughter in cross-sex play when it is so inevitable for girls to play with girls and vice versa.


Orenstein's book definitely gave me many things to think about it.  But, in many ways, I feel that the book was over thought.  Certain parts of the book had me sharing in Orenstein's outrage and others had me laughing but I think much of Orenstein's concern went too far for me to relate.  Also, I really wished I had liked Orenstein more.  The concept of the book was good but I did not connect with her and that kept me from really enjoying the book.  Certainly she raised many interesting and valid concerns but I ended up feeling mostly that these were issues to be mindful of but not necessarily to wage war against.  As with everything else in life, I think it all comes down to balance.  We want our daughters to be smart and clever and adventurous but I don't see that there is anything wrong with them feeling pretty at the same time. 

Home Front by Kristin Hannah.

I can remember exactly where I was when I found out that my brother-in-law, Greg's youngest brother, was being deployed. I was sitting on the couch in the front parlor of my in-laws' pastel-painted gingerbread home. I excused myself to the tiny bathroom under the stairs and I cried.

I felt extremely conflicted. I was immensely proud of him and his service but he was also just a kid. He was just a kid who now would be dropped in to a situation far more adult than most of us will ever face.

We sent care packages and received letters. We hoped for his safe return. And through tours of duty in hostile lands, he did. He came home.

It wasn't until years later that I began to fully appreciate just what my brother and the scores of other men and women who serve our country are really offering with their service. They are volunteering to defend our safety and liberties. They are mothers and fathers and sons and daughters and they are willing to make the absolute ultimate sacrifice for every day people like you and me. It amazes me. I have trouble wrapping my mind around such a selfless act. How deeply blessed we are to have people willing to step up and fight for our country. These men and women – these kids – are the true definition of bravery, honor, and courage. I cannot believe that someone who has never met me is willing to die to protect the country we share.

Home Front by Kristin Hannah is about just that: duty and honor and bravery. As with all of her books, Home Front takes place in small Washington State town (in this case, Poulsbo). Jolene Zarkades is a 41-year-old mother of two, married to her one and only love, and next-door-neighbor to her best friend Tami. Jolene and Tami met over twenty years ago in the Army, when they both entered training to fly Black Hawk helicopters. Jolene is our hero from the first chapter, having overcome a horrendous childhood to make a happy life for herself (although, as we will find out, appearances can be deceiving).

Jolene and Tami both leave full-time Army life and enter the reserves when their children are born. They are knee-deep in happy, typical acts of domestic life when the call comes that they are being deployed to Iraq.

Home Front is an amazing story. Whereas it is most definitely a feel book, it is not necessarily a feel-good book. Jolene is forced to leave her daughters and a marriage in trouble behind. She is forced to contemplate her own death – that she might not come home – and desperately tries to impart life lessons to her oldest daughter through e-mails home. I pretty much sobbed my way through this novel. As a mother, I could sharply feel Jolene's pain at saying goodbye to her girls for a year and the loss she feels over all that she will miss in that time. As a civilian, I was terrified of the account of life on the base in Iraq and touched by the personal lives of Jolene's crew and their stories.

Hannah always does a wonderful job of researching the real life behind her fictional novels and Home Front is no exception. I felt a surge of pride for our country and our soldiers and a deep gratitude for the families of our soldiers who are left behind to hold the pieces together. It takes tremendous courage to be a serviceman or woman but the strength that it takes to send your loved one off to war and to keep life running at home is equally unfathomable. Home Front is a deeply emotional, honest look at military life from all sides and an excellent read.

Yoga Bitch by Suzanne Morrison.

Maggie is a very dear friend to me.  We met in kindergarten and we have been friends ever since.  We have been separated by time and distance but, no matter how long it has been since we last spoke, we are always able to pick up right where we left off.  My entire childhood and teenage years are bursting with memories of Maggie: our silly clubs (there was an Archie fan club, a cooking club, and a babysitting club, just to name a few), an intense fight one slumber-party-night over who loved Jordan of New Kids on the Block more, and the woefully pathetic crushes (and, let's face it, stalking) that plagued our high school years (we didn't call ourselves social lepers for nothing).  Maggie is also where I have always turned for legendary conversations about life and love.  We share a sense of humor that I've never found with anyone else and she can make me laugh like nobody's business.  


Maggie is to me what Yoga Bitch is to memoirs.  Reading it was like an epic conversation with an old friend.  Perhaps I am flattering myself, but I think Morrison, Maggie and I would have a great time over dinner.  I first pulled Morrison's Yoga Bitch from the library shelf because who wouldn't be intrigued by such a title?  I have been practicing yoga for several years, on and off.  Yoga and I were currently on a break when this cover attracted my eye and I thought the memoir might help us kiss and make up.


I loved loved loved this book.  I think the phrase "could not put it down" was coined after this book was published.  Morrison narrates this memoir and her voice is strong, honest and convincing.  She had me laughing out loud (the "pissdrinkers" references still make me chuckle) and soaking up her view of the culture of both yoga and Bali.

Yoga Bitch begins by introducing us to mid-twenties Morrison, a recent college graduate living in Seattle.  She is in a loving but somewhat lackluster relationship, suffering from a semi-paralyzing fear of death and eternally pondering the existence of God.  One night she wanders in to a Capitol Hill yoga studio and her adventure is born.

Morrison discovers a passion for yoga and a borderline obsession with Indra, her yoga instructor.  Seeking the spirituality and enlightenment she believes Indra possesses, Morrison travels to Bali for a two month yoga retreat.  Through yoga, Balinese culture, and her fellow yogis, Morrison learns some surprising things about herself and teaches much to the reader along the way.  


Yoga Bitch is equal parts hilarious and insightful.  Morrison is witty, self-deprecating, and brilliant.  I loved her candid approach to everything and the way she said things out loud that most of us would only dare to whisper in our heads.  She reminded me of all the things I love about yoga and I could relate very much to her spiritual quest.  I'm not usually one to re-read books, even those that I have loved (the exception being The Diary of Anne Frank, which I have read many times...it's funny how I know how it ends but each time I find myself hoping it will be different).  But although the title might imply something shallow and silly, Morrison's Yoga Bitch is anything but.  This is a book I want to buy and have on my shelf and a book I already want to read again.  Oh, and yoga and I are totally back on again.