November 04, 2005
Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
What an absolutely brilliant read! It seems that everyone but me knew about this book? I am glad that I finally got the chance to read the story of Chris McCandless's trek into the wilderness. At times heartwrenching, often sobering, but mostly inspiring. Krakauer's writing style made me feel like I was trekking through the Alaskan wilderness in step with McCandless himself. What an adventure!
It was interesting even just to note the difference in my own thoughts in relating to McCandless while following his journey. I initially felt myself arrogantly thinking that this man was totally crazy. Someone give him some medication. Some of his reckless disregard even brought back memories of conversations with my brother, conversations of paranoia concerning Government officials, his thoughts of begging for money and living on the streets. Not that McCandless ever begged for money. He appeared to be a hard working young man who just wanted to live of the land, and experience the great outdoors as many have done before him. Everett Ruess, Henry Thoreau, the list goes on and on.
Though the McCandless family may have had humble beginnings, they worked hard and eventually managed a successful company. They enjoyed the rewards that prestige and success brings. They owned the large home in the upscale neighborhood, the cars, the boat, enjoyed family vacations the like that I myself never experienced. This is the lifestyle that McCandless was running from, this existence contradicted everything that he believed in.
At one point while reading this book I found myself getting quite angry at McCandless. Here is a man that has been given everything. As a young woman growing up in a middle class neighborhood I would have loved to have the opportunities that this man was handed. A family friend fincanced his college education, and having $25,000 after graduating to pave a way to law school. I never had those opportunies, college was not even an option I thought about. And this man chooses to donate the $25,000 (which is a noble thing) and run off into the wildnerness.
After getting over my anger, I realised that McCandless wasn't just running from the money, and his issues with his family, but he was running from the whole package. The mold that society constantly tries to fit everyone into, like it or not. The expectations. The shallow existence that so many seem to enjoy, but that is certainly not a perfect fit for everyone. The 9 - 5 job that we drag ourselves to day after day after day - for what? To earn money, to pay bills in order to buy more things to put in our homes until nothing else fits and we must buy bigger homes. And the cycle continues.....on and on and on until we die. Yes, I understand that it sounds bleak but sometimes this is what it feels like.
I eventually realized that McCandless was much like myself. As much as I like the home we bought, and want all the nice antiques, that I cannot afford to fill it. I also understand that these things mean nothing. I was sitting in my home just recently, unable to drag myself away from this book and I heard the familiar squawking that I have come to know so well. I rushed outside to view the daily communal gathering of the local crows and I began to wonder if they know something we don't. Something that many of us, McCandless included, is looking for? They hunt, and gather, but most of their time revolves around their daily social gathering. Maybe that is what it is all about.
In the end maybe even McCandless realized this but something went terribly wrong? The last note that Chris would write is the one printed below.
S.O.S. I NEED YOUR HELP. I AM INJURED, NEAR DEATH, AND TOO WEAK TO HIKE OUT OF HERE. I AM ALL ALONE, THIS IS NO JOKE. IN THE NAME OF GOD, PLEASE REMAIN TO SAVE ME. I AM OUT COLLECTING BERRIES CLOSE BY AND SHALL RETURN THIS EVENING. THANK YOU, CHRIS MCCANDLESS. AUGUST?
October 15, 2005
October 11, 2005
October 04, 2005
Cutting: Understanding & Overcoming Self Mutilation by Steve Levekron
This is just one of the many books that I am currently reading. It is an informative book about understanding, and over-coming self mutilation. Steve Levenkron guides the reader through a non judgemental look into the thought processes behind the act of self mutilation.
From Publishers Weekly
The psychotherapist whose books (including the novel The Best Little Girl in the World) have illuminated the nature and treatment of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), anorexia nervosa and bulimia now shines the spotlight on another misunderstood behavioral disorder: self-mutilation. Levenkron begins by advising desensitization to the disturbing wounds, scars and blood-letting patients inflict upon themselves, redirecting focus toward the underlying issues. He likens cutting to OCD in that it is a compulsive act meant to relieve unbearable emotional pain, and to eating disorders in that it is a method of seizing control. Like anorexics, most cutters are girls, unable to express anger toward others, instead turning it against themselves. Levenkron is careful to explain that cutting is not the same as body piercing or tattooing, which reflect "adolescent trendiness," and that cutters are not suicidal, their wounds life-threatening only rarely and accidentally. Cutting is done secretly, "usually in a trancelike state," and "the act of creating pain... or drawing blood, is in itself the goal." Cutters then develop an "addiction" to this method of exchanging physical pain for emotional pain. With many examples from his practice, Levenkron provides clear and comprehensive information on the causes and effective treatments of this mysterious disorder, specific advice for therapists and an encouraging sense of hope for patients and their families. Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.
October 02, 2005
The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
I stumbled upon this book as I was reviewing the materials that were part of the course requirements for the English class, that I won't be taking this quarter. To cut a long story short, I decided to take Fall quarter of from College, but I still feel a little guilty so I rushed down to the library and borrowed the books that I would have been studying...just to help ease some of the guilt.
This was quite a short read so I managed to read it between reading Thoreaus's Walden, a novel titled 'Poe and Fanny' where the author tries to write in fiction form of the love affair between Edgar Allan Poe and Fanny, The Journals of Sylvia Plath and another 2 books that a friend recommended that I read, and I cannot even remember the titles...but they do sound great and I will get to read them soon enough!
The House on Mango Street is exactly 110 pages long, or short, and I managed to fly through it in 2 short sittings. Unlike Plath's Journal with her incredible use of the English language, which I have been disgesting for about 2 weeks and am still not close to finishing. Although Cisneros does not, in my mind, compare to such literary giants as Sylvia Plath or Virginia Woolf, the way in which she invites the reader into a diverse culture, that is nothing like the culture I was born into. She has a way of conveying her experiences so richly that I feel like I was there with her experiencing all the ups and downs she herself experienced.
A beautiful and moving depiction of a young latino girl growing up in Chicago's latino community. Her struggles with peoples stereotypical characterization of the community and the people within it. You are invited into a community struggling with abject poverty, disappointments and the goal of her one day becoming someone greater than the person she sees in the mirror.
Except from the chapter titled 'Bums in the attic'
I want a horse on a hill like the ones with the gardens where Papa works. We go on Sundays, Papa's day off. I used to go. I don't anymore. You don't like to go out with us, Papa says. Getting too old? Getting too stuck-up, says Nenny. I don't tell them I am ashamed - all of us staring out the window like the hungry. I am tired of looking at what we can't have. When we win the lottery...Mama begins, and then I stop listening.
People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars that they forget those of us who live too much on earth. They don't look down at all except to be content to live on hills. They have nothing to do with last week's garbage or fear of rats. Nightmares. Nothing wakes them but the wind. One day I'll own my own house, but I won't forget who I am or where I came from. Passing bums will ask, Can I come in? I'll offer them the attic, ask them to stay, because I know how it is to be without a house.
Some days after dinner, guests and I will sit in front of a fire. Floorboards will speak upstairs. The attic grumble.
Rats? they ask
Bums, I'll say, and I'll be happy.
September 15, 2005
September 14, 2005
July 19, 2005
Virginia Woolf
At this point in my life I have yet to find another author that inspires such awe as Virginia Woolf. In trying to find the words to define the exceptional writing skills of this woman, I am at a loss. I have no words that can convey the impact that her writing has made, on myself and numerous others.
Woolf has the ability, with the use of mere words, to lift the human spirit, to cause one to feel pain or to enable you to feel empathy for someone; a character that may not even exist, though her writing can make you think they do. Unlike myself with my somewhat limited vocabulary Ms.Woolf uses a whole gamut of words to bring about all that she is trying to convey to the reader.
In her writing it is as if she is trying to define a beautiful landscape to a person who was born without sight, which is very different than explaining it to a seeing person. For the person with sight already knows what a raging ocean or a garden in spring looks like, as they have seen it for themselves. But a person born blind could not ever know what these things look like. How would you describe a raging ocean to this person. How would you define the ocean, or the sand, the blinding rays of sunlight, or a winters night?
Virginia Woolf has this ability, and it is a pure joy to be invited into her world with her myriad of varied characters and vivid scenes, weaving lives with such intensity, such strength, not denying the at times, harsh realities of life.
July 11, 2005
Stick Figure by Christine Fontaine
Book Review
This is an autobiography about one persons journey through anorexia and bulimia.
This is a wonderful story both, for those who are dealing with an eating disorder, and for those who know someone who has an eating disorder. It is as if Christine; the ill, is leading you and I; the healthy, through her life, a tangled web of lies, despair, and destruction finally leading to wholeness and health.
I have read, and re-read this book. It is one woman's honest portrayal of the emotional and physical suffering that a victim endures. For if you have an eating disorder you are a victim, a prisoner, of that illness. Unfortunately, it is not as easy as taking the advice of the uninformed and 'just eating' for the illness resides much deeper than that in the human psyche.
"...and was skinnier than everybody else and was amused...me? But tha's not what felt good. What was good was my free body, unhidden, free. Years of holding in my stomach, trying to hide my body from judgement, of trying to escape being physical no longer mattered - nobody could judge me now. My body was no longer restricted by heavy self - consciouness..."
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