I am horribly late, but I did read Beautiful Boy by David Sheff.
I don’t know if I enjoyed it but I did like Sheff’s writing. His story of his son’s addiction to crystal methamphetamine wasn’t exactly easy reading. He conveyed very well the sense of hopelessness and helplessness he felt, watching his son deteriorate. He is so consumed by his worry that even when he suffers a life-threatening cerebral haemorrhage that causes him to forget his own name, and where he is, thoughts of his missing son continue to torture him: “My son is in danger. I cannot forget it even now with my brain awash with toxic blood.”
Sheff doesn’t have any answers for people in the same situation. Rehabilitation is a difficult process and there are no easy fixes, no guarantees. Ultimately, he is hopeful, though:
People told me to let go of my worry because there was nothing I could do. “Put it out of your mind.” I never could. I finally learned to do the hard work it took to put it in perspective, because it does not help anyone - the addict, the rest of the family, you - when it becomes the only thing in one’s life. And so my advice: do whatever it takes - therapy, Al-Anon, lots of Al-Anon - for you to contain it. And be patient with yourself. Allow yourself to make mistakes. Be easy on yourself and extra loving toward your spouse or partner. Do not keep secrets. As they often say in AA, you’re as sick as your secrets. Though it is not a solution, openness is a relief. Our shared stories help us remember what we’re dealing with. Addicts need ongoing reminders and support, and so do their families. It helps to read others’ stories. And it helps to write, at least it did for me. As I said, I wrote frantically. I wrote in the middle of the night and made it to morning. If I were a painter like Karen, I would have painted what I was going through. She often did. I wrote. [pp.314-315, Pocket Books/Simon & Schuster, 2008]
I suddenly realised that I haven’t actually written down what I thought about the last couple of book circle books!
I don’t know what happened - I did read the books but the whole writing thing seems to have escaped me. The problem with not writing about something soon after it happens is that you forget a lot, unless you make notes, which of course I haven’t. Still, let me try.
Book five, in June, was The zookeeper’s wife by Diane Ackerman. This was slightly disappointing. I thought it started off quite promisingly, but it just didn’t seem to get into enough detail where it mattered. Set in the Warsaw zoo during the Second World War and the Nazi occupation of the city, the book was about the zookeeper, his wife and how they survived and what they did to help their Jewish friends and neighbours to survive. I suppose I was expecting to read more on the subterfuge that they might have had to engage in to survive - instead it seemed to just form the backdrop to a general depiction of life in Poland during the war. I did however enjoy the descriptions of zookeeping as a profession. Perhaps a case of a mismatch between expectations and reality (can I blame the blurb?).
Book six, in July was Letter to my daughter by Maya Angelou. I’m not sure what I was expecting from this one. It is a collection of short essays written to the daughter(s) the author never had. We are all her daughters, she says. I enjoyed it but found myself wanting more - Maya Angelou was offering advice and insights from her experience but it sort of felt too brief and superficial. I don’t know, I guess I would expect my mother to know me a bit better and give me advice that directly speaks to me. I think I am being too harsh; maybe I need a heart-to-heart conversation with my own mum?
Am currently trying to read the August book, PS I love you by Cecilia Ahern. I am not sure if I will finish it as I am finding it too predictable and am not enjoying the writing very much. It doesn’t help that I have other distractions at the moment: Darkness visible by William Styron and A heartbreaking work of staggering genius by Dave Eggers.
Speaking of books, Perthites, the annual Save the Children Booksale is on this Friday!
I am very very late with the third book I was meant to have read for the Book Circle: April’s book, In defense of food: An eater’s manifesto by Michael Pollan. In fact, I haven’t even managed to read it. I kept putting off blogging about it, because I kept hoping that I would actually manage to get through it if I left it long enough. However, given that May is now over - and I have finished the May book! - I think it’s time to just admit defeat with In defense of food, for now, and hope that I will get through it some other time. I don’t know exactly why the book didn’t grab me. The bits I read were readable enough. I think it was just the wrong book for the time. (Kate on the other hand enjoyed it, as did Penny, and Mel - I think I shall have to go back to it sometime soon.)
I did manage to read the May book, The 19th wife by David Ebershoff, however. I don’t think it was the sort of novel I would have picked up of my own accord, so I have the book circle to thank for the fact that I enjoyed it.
Without giving too much away (should you want to try it for yourself), it was the story of a young man who was abandoned by his mother, and excommunicated by the fundamentalist polygamous Mormon sect he was born into. He goes back to his home when his mother is accused of murdering his father, and tries to find out what really happened. Another story is told at the same time, that of the “19th wife” of the Mormon leader Brigham Young. I did occasionally find the changes in narrator a bit confusing and found myself wondering how much of the book was historical fact and how much was made up. Oh, and I could not understand how the fundamentalist Mormon women put up with being plural wives. (Mel’s read this one too.)
