The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot (Broadway Paperbacks, 2011)
I was a kid who'd failed freshman year at the regular public high school because she never showed up. I'd transferred to an alternative school that offered dream studies instead of biology, so I was taking [a community college biology class] for high-school credit, which meant that I was sitting in a college lecture hall at sixteen with words like mitosis and kinase inhibitors flying around. I was completely lost.
But it was in that biology class that Rebecca Skloot first heard the name: Henrietta Lacks.
Henrietta died in 1951 from a vicious case of cervical cancer. ... But before she died, a surgeon took samples of her tumor and put them in a petri dish. Scientists had been striving to keep human cells alive in culture for decades, but they all eventually died. Henrietta's were different: they reproduced an entire generation every twenty-four hours, and they never stopped. They became the first immortal human cells ever grown in a laboratory.
By the mid-1970's, when I was working in the University of Rochester's Analytical Cytology Laboratory, the HeLa cell line, as it was called, had been a standard research tool for over 20 years.
[The] cells were part of research into the genes that cause cancer and those that suppress it; they helped develop drugs for treating herpes, leukemia, influenza, hemophilia, and Parkinson's disease; and they'd been used to study lactose digestion, sexually transmitted diseases, appendicitis, human longevity, mosquito mating, and the negative cellular effects of working in sewers. ... Like guinea pigs and mice, Henrietta's cells have become the standard laboratory workhorse.
"HeLa cells were one of the most important things that happened to medicine in the last hundred years," Skloot's professor told her.
What he couldn't tell her, however, was anything at all about the woman behind the cells, Henrietta Lacks herself. The quest for that information would consume much of her life, culminating in this book.
Although The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks has special interest for me because of my background in cervical cancer research, such inside information is hardly necessary for finding the book very difficult to put down. Skloot weaves together the story of Henrietta's famous and ubiquitous tumor cells and that of her short and difficult life in such a way that neither the science nor the sorrow becomes overwhelming. Henrietta's cells, holding an honored and essential place in modern biomedical research, contrast sharply with Henrietta's family, which could be the poster child for the poor and marginalized in our country. Reading about their lives in Clover, Virginia confirmed my conclusion that the smartest thing my great-grandparents did was to flee their own hometown on the other side of the Appalachians. Without a doubt, it was harder on Henrietta's family because they were black, but poverty, inbreeding, and, shall we say, non-traditional morals take their toll without regard to race.
The book leaves one with many questions, from medical ethics ("Will our descendants look upon those who profit from people's discarded cells—excised tumors, biopsies, blood taken for newborn testing—as we now look upon 19th century grave robbers?") to social justice ("How can we help someone whose whole community is dysfunctional?"). But I'm left with one especially pressing question, from outside of the book, as it were: How did the troubled teen that Skloot describes herself as end up an excellent and award-winning science writer? There's hope, even for the apparently dysfunctional.
Many thanks to my sister-in-law, the library book sale master, for this gem!
Switch: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard by Chip Heath and Dan Heath (Broadway Books, 2010)
You don't get lots of snippet quotes in this review, because I had to read the book quickly; it was a gift for my son-in-law. I love his Amazon wish list: I look it over, pick out a book I want to read, order it, read it, and give it to him. :) But my timing wasn't as good this time as it could have been.
Instead, you get a hearty endorsement of Switch. I'm not sure the Heath brothers have everything right, but they sure have a lot of great ideas that I plan to take more time to consider. Our library has two copies on order, and maybe my library book sale maven sister-in-law will come upon a used copy before I get around to ordering it myself. :)
Here's a link to the authors' site, where you can check out some free resources, and read the first chapter of Switch. Unfortunately, the first chapter doesn' t include one of my favorite stories, that of how a humanitarian organization that made an (almost) immediate, life-saving change to children's nutrition in Vietnam. But you can read that story here. (More)
Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (Crown, 2012)
I waited a long time for my name to percolate to the top of our library's waiting list for Quiet. In another example of God's amazing sense of humor, I was able to pick up the book on my way home from dropping the Daleys at the airport. Returning to a house no longer ringing with the sound of grandchildren was at the time altogether too much quiet for me. Being able to bury myself in the book did help assuage the sense of loss, however.
I'm tempted to say that Quiet is by far the best of all the books I've read on introversion, though that may only be because it's the third, and I have the advantage of having read others. Introverts in the Church made me cry because it was the first, revealing to me the value of character traits I've been pressured to suppress all my life, but it is not particularly well written, and is a bit strident for sharing with extroverts.
Although I found the second book overly psycho-therapeutic, I learned from The Introvert Advantage some of the physical differences between the brains of introverts and those of extroverts, and some advice for understanding (and helping) both introverted and extroverted children. Quiet takes that ball and runs a lot further with it.
It helps that the book is well written, enabling me to concentrate on the content without being distracted by the form. The author is also more even-toned in her approach, highlighting the contributions of introverts, yes, but at the same time emphasizing the value of both temperament types. She's much easier on extroverts than some writers whose scars from growing up in an extrovert-dominated world are more visible. Nonetheless, I can't unequivocally recommend the book for all extroverts. If you're an insecure extrovert looking for affirmation of your own temperament, you won't find much help here. If you think the problem with the world is that most people are not extroverted enough, Cain is not singing your song. But if you yearn to understand, appreciate, and support the introverts in your life—especially if you have an introverted spouse or child who frustrates or puzzles you, or if you're an employer desiring to create the most productive work environment for employees of diverse temperaments, don't miss Quiet.
Cain deliberately broadens her use of the terms "extrovert" and "introvert" from the popular consideration of whether one is renewed by crowds or solitude.
This book is about introversion as seen from a cultural point of view. Its primary concern is the age-old dichotomy between the "man of action" and the "man of contemplation," and how we could improve the world if only there were a greater balance of power between the two types.
Actually, her brush is broader still, which to my mind makes it worthwhile reading "yet another book on introverts": She covers other, related personality traits, along with how they interact with intro- and extro-version. This could profitably have been seven books rather than one. Which is a bit frustrating, I'll admit, as it seems she is just getting started on an interesting subject when she veers in another direction.
Quiet is a popular book, which means I had only two-thirds the normal time to keep this library copy, with no hope of renewal, and it was due yesterday. So for the remainder of this post you'll get a somewhat random collection of a few of the points that caught my eye.
The 20th century was not a good time for introverted children. Reading about the development of the Cult of Personality and the psychological concept of the Inferiority Complex helps explain why I provoked comments in my father's journals (which I read many years later) on the order of, "I sure wish Linda were more sociable." Never mind that my parents were as introverted as I am—they wanted better for their children.
[C]hild guidance experts of the 1920's set about helping children to develop winning personalities. Until then, these professionals had worried mainly about sexually precocious girls and delinquent boys, but now psychologists, social workers, and doctors focused on the everyday child with the "maladjusted personality" ... The experts advised parents to socialize their children well and schools to change their emphasis from book-learning to "assisting and guiding the developing personality." Educators took up this mantle enthusiastically. ... Well-meaning parents of the midcentury agreed that quiet was unacceptable and gregariousness ideal for both girls and boys. Some discouraged their children from solitary and serious hobbies, like classical music, that could make them unpopular. They sent their kids to school at increasingly young ages, where the main assignment was learning to socialize. Introverted children were often singled out as problem cases.
Maybe I'd have been better off growing up in Taiwan, as in this quote from a present-day American high school student whose parents are from that country. (More)
I've been experimenting with Memrise for several days—long enough to conclude it merits a mention.
Memrise is a vocabulary review system that specializes in languages, of which there are an incredible number, from French to Quechua to Klingon! (Alas, no Swiss German, no doubt hampered by the lack of an official written form.) There are other subjects, as well, but not many yet, and they are not well developed. The Periodic Table course, for example, would do better not reversing the "o" and the "u" in fluorine, and settling on either of the two acceptable spellings of the element Al, instead of compromising with "Alumnium." (Or is that a new element, named after all college graduates?)
I'm loving the Introductory German! My favorite language course is still Pimsleur, which along with Hippo gets the correct sound and feel of the language and its structure into my brain. But I also need a way to build up vocabulary, and Memrise is the best I've found so far. The vehicle is a simple "garden" system: new words are seeds, and through practice you sprout them, help them grow, "harvest" (more like transplant) them to long-term memory, and water them to keep them healthy. E-mail reminders bring you back to your "garden" at varying intervals—short for recently-learned words, longer for ones you know better—so you don't lose what you've learned.
It's easy to use and kind of fun. I find that I'm picking up vocabulary pretty well so far, though I do wonder who decided which words to introduce first. I mean, die Bundesrepublik? "Federal Republic" is not exactly a term I use every day. Or how about der Mülleimer? Dustbin? Dustbin? Dustbins are things people in the English novels I love to read are always "tipping" things into, but I'm sure I've used the term fewer times than Federal Republic. And is blöd (stupid) really an essential vocabulary word? Still, in addition to these oddities there are more useful terms, such as das Haus (house), vielleicht (maybe), and der Name (name). And I've finally caught the difference between der Staat (state) and die Stadt (city).
Unfortunately, I can't make the audio work in Firefox, and so must use IE or Chrome if I want to hear the words pronounced. That's something I find very valuable, not only for understanding and speaking, but because having heard the sound of a noun I'm much more likely to be able to remember whether it's die, der, or das, something I always have trouble with. I'm beginning to think of the article and the word as one entity, which of course will get me into trouble when I have to worry about inflection, but I'll climb that hill when I get to it.
It's also German German, and so uses the Eszett instead of the Swiss double "s." However, it accepts the double "s" when I have to type in an answer, so I'm fine with it. Letters with an umlaut are easy to enter, via either a mouse click or the Windows U.S. International keyboard (which I prefer because it is faster).
Here's hoping I manage to stick with the program, and not lose everything when I go on vacation....
Luke's Story by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins (Putnam Praise, 2009)
Luke's Story, the second book of LaHaye and Jenkins' Jesus Chronicles, uses the Bible, extra-biblical sources, and a lot of imagination to tell a reasonably credible story about the author of the Gospel of Luke. I found it more interesting than Mark's Story, though it suffers from many of the same defects. It's still seems like cheating that the authors get so much of their word count by lifting passages straight from the Bible, and their denominational slant is annoying. Worse, it lacks a first-century feel. I'm not sure I'd recognize an authentic setting, but I know the characters are spouting modern language, theology, and attitudes. Somehow I doubt that first-century worship looked quite so much like a modern American Baptist service....
However, there's more "story" to this book than there was to Mark's Story, which made it more enjoyable to read.
No, We Can't: Radical Islam, Militant Secularism, and the Myth of Coexistence by Robert Stearns (Chosen, 2011)
I received this book for review under false pretenses, but it was my fault entirely. This was the blurb that caught my eye:
The world is shifting, and a war for world domination is raging between radical Islam, militant secularism and Judeo-Christianity. But what does it mean for you—and why should you care? With clarity and astonishing depth, Robert Stearns lays out the dire ramifications of this coming culture clash for Christians. Based on years of global outreach, he shows what believers can and must do. The tipping point in global culture is upon us. What role will you play?
Normally, words like "a war for world domination" wouldn't encourage me to pick up a book. But I thought this would be a word from the trenches, from one known for his care for the poor, the downtrodden, and the marginalized all over the world. I was eager to hear about "radical Islam" from one whose organization has experienced tragedy at the hands of the Taliban, yet continues to provide humanitarian aid to "all people, regardless of religion, race, ethnicity, or gender." I was expecting "he shows what believers can and must do" to focus on the need for more church involvement in fighting the causes of poverty and injustice worldwide. I was hoping to hear about World Vision International's experiences dealing with culture clashes, and was especially interested to hear the warnings of such a man about "dire ramifications of this coming culture clash." I wanted to know what led such a man, who claims we have the knowledge and ability to end most extreme poverty if only we had the will, to write a book entitled, "No, We Can't."
My mistake was in not checking up on the author. It turns out that the president of World Vision is Richard Stearns, while the author of this book is Robert Stearns. As far as I know, they are not related, and they certainly have different perspectives.
Having agreed to review the book, however mistakenly, I was obligated to read it. It's a pity that Robert Stearns' language is so strident and his logic sometimes shaky, because I think he has some good points; it's just too hard to sort the wheat from the chaff. (More)
Mark's Story by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins (Putnam Praise, 2007)
This, the second story in The Jesus Chronicles, is a bold, not to say brazen, attempt to show the events of Jesus' life and of the early church through the eyes of the author of the Gospel of Mark. I hadn't planned to read anything more by LaHaye and Jenkins, not after my disappointment with their Left Behind series, which had an interesting premise but could have used writers who were as serious about the story they were crafting as they were about the message they wanted to get across. As I've said before, great writers manage to convey many messages through their works, but people who start writing with a message in mind tend to write mediocre novels. But Mark's Story was recommended by a friend whom I respect, and she backed up the recommendation by lending me the book.
Tackling any part of the the Bible though the medium of historical fiction is risky, and I wondered how LaHaye and Jenkins—who so clearly reverence the Book as the written, infallable, word of God—would dare to add to what the Scriptures have to say. Well, they were smarter than me, and solved that problem—not to mention the need to get their word count up to book size—by quoting passages of the New Testament verbatim, and at length. Mark's "story" is merely the lubricant that allows the quotations to slide together into a coherent narrative.
I must say that the authors have done a credible job of piecing together the Gospels, the book of Acts, and the letters of Paul and Peter, along with what we know of early church history, while adding only enough new material to make the story flow, to show how Mark might have learned the stories he tells in his Gospel, and to get across their own biases and interpretations. The last should surprise no one who has read the Left Behind books.
Unfortunately, that much of the material is straight Scripture I actually found to be a detraction. I'd rather read the Bible itself, because—at least to someone very familiar with the facts—what is added did not give enough story to the narrative. I wasn't eager to turn the page to find out what was going to happen, and the book has none of the character development that makes me happy to re-read books I know almost by heart.
For someone less familiar with the New Testament, however, this might be a good introduction. As I said, the authors succeeded in weaving a chronological tapestry from writings that are anything but chronological. And despite my complaints, I may go ahead and read the rest of the series, just to see what they can do with the other Gospel writers. If I think of Mark's Story as one of those modern "specialty Bibles" with denominational commentary, it "works" better for me.
Wonderful Fool by Shusaku Endo, translated by Peter Owen (Tuttle Publishing, 1974; originally published in 1959)
I am currently on a schedule of reading one Shusaku Endo book per Swiss grandchild born. I'm definitely warming to his writing, so perhaps I should visit Switzerland more often.
This thoughtful exploration of what might happen when innocence and love meet everyday society, though less depressing than most of the stories in Stained Glass Elegies, is hardly the "light, humorous novel" promised in the Introduction. It is, however, uplifting and redemptive. It is also well written, for which credit no doubt goes to both the author and the translator. I especially enjoy the vision of Japan through Japanese eyes, and the small advantage our brief visit to that country has given me. The one part of the translation that strikes me as odd when I read it is the persistent use of the appellation "foreigner" in a way it would not be used in English. Yet when I imagine the speakers saying "gaijin" instead, the language flows and the usage makes sense.
The summary on the back cover is excellent, so rather than reinvent an inferior wheel, here it is:
Wonderful Fool is Shusaku Endo's gentle and humorous narrative of "mudswamp Japan"—his phrase for the Japanese inner world of moral apathy and insensitivity to God and sin. A young Frenchman, Gaston Bonaparte, comes to Japan for the first time, and we see Japan afresh through his eyes. At first he seems to be the utter fool both in his ugly horseface appearance and slow-witted thought, but he gradually charms those around him as he bumbles through Japanese society, making mistake after mistake. In spite of his mistakes, those around him start to see some endearing qualities in his pure love of both people and animals. Gaston's wanderings take him to the seamier places in Japan, as he spends time in Sanya with day laborers, in Shibuya with fortune tellers, in Shinjuku with prostitutes, and eventually hooks up with a professional killer. His two young hosts, Takamori and his sister Tomoe, are drawn into Gaston's world and forced to take a deeper look at their own lives and values. Both a provocative tale of clashing culture and new-found morals, Wonderful Fool also serves as a kind of guidebook to a hidden Tokyo and Japan that few foreigners may have a chance to experience.
The Stories of Emmy: A Girl Like Heidi by Doris Smith Naundorf (Xulon Press, 2010)
Doris Smith Naundorf is known in upstate New York as The Story Lady. The Stories of Emmy are taken from her one-woman play, Interweaving the Generations. Emmy, Doris's mother, grew up partly in her Swiss village of Muttenz, and partly in Paterson, New Jersey, where her family moved when she was ten years old. Her stories give a delightful glimpse into Swiss, American, and immigrant life in the early 1900's. (Grandchild warning: There is one sad incident requiring parental discretion; the stories are meant to be appropriate for chidren, but reality is sometimes harsh.)
Muttenz is near Basel (four minutes by train, a century later), and the stories are sprinkled with Baseldeutsch, the delightful Swiss-German dialect spoken there. A glossary is provided for each chapter.
Driving the several blocks to the train station, Emmy excitedly chattered to her father. "Will we get there in time, Vatti? she asked. "Mutti says we must be there early, so we will not miss the train."
"Jo, jo," replied her father. "In a country that makes such fine watches and clocks, of course the Zúúg runs on time. It is up to the passengers to be there early so the conductors can keep their schedule."
"The Zúúg, the train, is never late?"
"Of course not! We Swiss cannot even imagine such a thing!" her father assured Emmy.
I couldn't resist finding Emmy, age 20, and her family in the 1920 census. (Click on the image to view a version large enough to read. Their name, Lüscher, appears without its umlaut.)
JoAnn Falletta, conductor
Elmar Oliveira, violin
John Callahan: Pulsar (World Premiere)
Saint-Saëns: Violin Concerto No. 3 in B minor, op.61
Prokofiev: Symphony No. 5
Last night's Orlando Phil concert, the final for the season in our series (Classics), was certainly enjoyable, but through no fault of the excellent conductor, soloists, and orchestra, it came across, for me, as a little bland. Listening to music performed cannot compare with making music oneself, and no mere concert can hope to compete with the experience of being part of a grand event, like the afternoon's Consecration of the Rev. Gregory O. Brewer as Fourth Bishop of Central Florida. About that I will write much more, but I'm waiting for the complete service to be uploaded to YouTube. (Part 1 available now, if you want a preview, but most if not all of my readers will appreciate the effort I'm making to provide a guide to the very long service.)
A post about the OPO concert is in order, however, in order to say this: Remember the name, John Callahan. He's a piano student at Florida State University, and won the OPO's Young Composers Challenge in 2008 and 2009. Pulsar was commissioned for the OPO by local musician and philanthropist Stephen Goldman, founder of the Young Composers Challenge. I can't say that Pulsar made my heart sing the way the music of John Dupuis does, but even I can tell that Callahan is extremely talented and composes at another level altogether.
The Bone House by Stephen Lawhead (Thomas Nelson, 2011)
The second book in Stephen Lawhead's Bright Empires series took me a lot less time to read than the first, and not just because it's almost 50 pages shorter. I took both the book and the audio version out of the library, and supplemented listening on my daily walks with reading in bits and snatches at home. Despite a full schedule, I devoured the book in four days. It turns out I read a whole lot faster than a read-aloud pace. Much, much faster. However, I read for content, not beauty, not the first time through. For really good books, like The Lord of the Rings, I soak in the beauty through multiple re-readings.
The audiobook forces me to pay attention to the descriptions as well as the story, and I enjoy a much more vivid picture of the setting, characters, and events. It's almost, but not quite, enough to make me want to listen to the entire book, since I imbibed most of this book via the printed page. I think I spent more actual time listening, but covered many more pages by reading.
The Bone House is if anything more unbelievable than its predecessor, The Skin Map. The world—multiverse—of Lawhead's imagination just gets stranger and stranger. But it's also getting more beautiful (yes, I managed to pick up some of the beauty on the fly) and more interesting. There's also less of the "testosterone factor" that annoyed me in the first book: more attention to brains and character than to brawn and beauty.
The only problem with having finished The Bone House so quickly is that the next book in the series, The Spirit Well, isn't scheduled to be released until September.
The Introvert Advantage: How to Thrive in an Extrovert World by Marti Olsen Laney (Workman, 2002)
This book was recommended by a friend, and while it did not suffer from "obligation + time pressure = irrational barrier syndrome," I did have to struggle through the first third of the book, which didn't say much that I found useful. Perhaps if it had been my introduction to the introvert/extrovert distinction, I'd have felt differently. But I found the author's approach overly psychotherapeutic—no doubt because she is, herself, a psychotherapist. I also felt that her description of an introvert didn't fit me as well as others I have read, and I had a hard time getting over her use of the terms "innie" and "outie," as if introverts and extroverts were belly buttons.
However, the rest of the book is bristling with sticky note markers. There's a section on parenting introverted/extroverted children that in itself makes borrowing the book from a library worthwhile. My primary complaint is that I'd be afraid to let any of my extroverted friends read it. Valuable as are some of its insights, I fear an extrovert would take from it the attitude, "See, I knew introverts were crazy, weak, inferior creatures." Despite the title, there's not a lot about why it's great to be/live with/work with an introvert; I was hoping for fewer tips on how to overcome my weaknesses and more on how to play to my strengths. Nonetheless, there's a lot worth reading, especially if you're willing to skim over what doesn't apply.
My best take-away? There are measurable, physical differences in the brain pathways used by introverts and extroverts. While we can, and often should, train ourselves to function in our areas of weakness, it's important to realize that something an extrovert takes for granted—as easy, requiring no thought, something "every civilized person" does—may be counter-intuitive and extremely difficult for an introvert. And vice versa.
Here's a taste—or maybe a full meal—of The Introvert Advantage. (More)
Life Is So Good by George Dawson and Richard Glaubman (Penguin, 2001)
George Dawson was born in 1898, and died in 2001. The 20th century was his in a way very few others can claim, and to read his story is to see the history of that momentous century from the inside, and to realize how much more important character and attitude are than any external circumstances.
George Dawson grew up hearing first-hand stories of slavery from his grandmother and great-grandmother. As a ten-year-old, he watched his older friend, Pete, be lynched for a crime George knew he did not commit.
"I will never work for or talk to a white person again," I said with anger.
My father, who had seemed lost in his own thoughts, jerked his head and looked at me.
"That was wrong what they did," I said. "Those white folks are mean and nasty people."
Papa swallowed hard and pulled up on the reins so that the wagon stopped.
He turned toward me. "No. You will work for white folks. You will talk to them."
"But, Papa, what about Pete? He didn't do nothing and they killed him."
"Yeah, I know they had no cause for that, but-"
I cut my father off short, something I had never done.
"But they made Pete suffer so."
"His suffering is over, son. It's all over for Pete. You don't need to worry for him."
"They took his life. Pete was still young. He should of grown to be a man."
"That's so," Papa said. "It was Pete's time, though. His time had come and that's that."
My anger still had some hold on me and I swallowed hard.
Papa looked at me and said, "Some of those white folks was mean and nasty. Some were just scared. It doesn't matter. You have no right to judge another human being. Don't you ever forget."
My father had spoken.
There was nothing to say. I didn't know it then, but his words set the direction my life would take even till this day.
Dawson's work life began when he was four, combing cotton for his family. By eight, he was working for other farmers, and doing "a man's work" by ten. He retired at 79, and finally learned to read at 98. In the meantime, his hard work, his determination to do the right thing—at which he mostly, though not entirely, succeeded—and his positive attitude took him far from his native Texas. Those were the days when a strong body and a good work ethic could get you a job and a place to sleep, and "homeless" was not a diagnosis. But he always returned home to Texas, even after a stint in Mexico where he discovered the pleasures of being considered a man, rather than a "colored boy."
There were a couple of cafes that I stopped in, not so much 'cause I was hungry but because they would serve me. I knew I was in another country when I could walk through the front door and where I sat could be my own choice. I liked that. Life was good, but I was too used to working, and after a week I caught the train back to Texas.
Like hardship and injustice themselves, it's easy for books about hardship and injustice to wallow in darkness and lead only to depression. Life Is So Good is remarkable, and well worth reading, for being able to report the darkness faithfully while infusing it with light.
Life is so good. I do believe it's getting better. — George Dawson
Note: There are a few places where the book is not appropriate for an eight-year-old, but Jonathan is not far from being able to learn much from reading it, and given that he liked God's Smuggler, it's clearly not beyond him.
The Skin Map by Stephen Lawhead (Thomas Nelson, 2009) (audiobook, read by Simon Bubb)
I review books for the publisher, Thomas Nelson. I've never before reviewed their fiction, because, frankly, it usually doesn't sound all that interesting. However, this offer made me sit up and take notice, because I've enjoyed Stephen Lawhead's work before. Add the fact that what was offered was the audiobook version, and I was hooked: I figured it would be just the thing for my upcoming long flight across the Atlantic.
I was wrong about that part. Over and over I repeated the pattern: Listen, doze off, awaken in a different part of the story, doze off, etc. Not because the story wasn't interesting, but because I needed sleep more than I needed entertainment.
Home again, I started the story anew, and found it a wonderfully inspiring accompaniment to my daily exercise walk. The prospect of hearing a few more chapters of the book was just the incentive I needed to get out and get going. Plus, it's really hard to fall asleep while walking.
Lawhead takes the concept of ley lines as his jumping off point (literally) in this tangled adventure of multiple realities. Or perhaps one reality that is infinitely more complex than we have supposed. Ley lines were new to me—I was as ignorant as his long-dead great-grandfather found protagonist Kit Livingstone to be. In The Skin Map, the power of ley lines is discovered to be, not legend, but cold, scientific fact, and a wrong turn one day in London takes Kit from his directionless, boring existence into adventure, danger, and more directions than he fears his mental health—and his stomach—can handle.
Without doubt, it was easy to be caught up in the adventure, and the mystery. But my favorite parts of the book were its well-researched intersections with everyday life: in modern England, 17th century England, 17th century Prague, Macao during China's Qing dynasty, 18th dynasty Egypt, and more. My least favorite were the drawn-out descriptions of the physical appearance of every female character encountered, and the even more interminable battle scenes, both of which were obviously included for the more testosterone-laden among us.
Therein lies the weakness, and the strength, of the audio version. Were I reading, instead of listening, I'd have quickly skimmed over those parts I found dull; instead, I was forced to wait, impatient, through them. On the other hand, I would probably also have given short shrift to the many highly descriptive scene-setting passages, and this format forced me to listen, to enjoy, and to appreciate a much more vivid picture of each setting than I would have envisioned on my own. Narrator Simon Bubb also does a fantastic job of bringing the characters to life through their voices, making this audio version an enhancement, rather than merely a slower and more laborious—albeit hands-free—way of reading the book.
On my own personal scale, The Skin Map is not nearly as good as The Lord of the Rings (one of my favorite stories of all time), and a whole lot better than Harry Potter (which I enjoyed, though less and less, I'll admit, after the third book). It's an interesting concept, a riveting story, and well-written to boot. True, there were times when I sighed, "Oh, come on, that's not plausible"—but that tends to happen to me even with nonfiction books. Astonishingly, for this age, Lawhead manages to craft a complex and engaging tale without ever being offensive, edgy, or over-the-top. I can't say for certain that there are no "grandchild warnings"—I'm pretty sure "bloody" occurs a few times, not related to battle scenes—but any potentially offensive language is rare, minor, and appropriate to the context.
The book is not short—448 pages in printed form—but the end came long before I was ready. Really, it seemed the story had just gotten started! That was when I discovered the sad, and happy, truth: the book was over, but the story had only begun. The Skin Map turns out to be the first of what is intended to be a five-book series. Fortunately, the second is available at the library, and this morning I reserved it. The third, however, has yet to be published....
The Skin Map is not a movie—though I think it would make a good one—but it has a "trailer" anyway. Who knew?
Everybody's Normal Till You Get to Know Them by John Ortberg (Zondervan, 2003)
This book started off with two strikes against it, but survived.
First, it was recommended as a “must read” from someone I care about, and coupled with a feeling of time pressure, which in my oddball psyche immediately sets up a cycle of resistance followed by guilt leading to more resistance, etc. Don’t ask me why, but I’ve been like that as long as I can remember. It was decades before I discovered that most of the books recommended to me, as a child, by my parents were really good stories. I was out of school before conceding that some (not all) of the books I was forced by my teachers to read were actually interesting. And I still haven’t finished Colossians Remixed, which I started in 2005…. Stupid, I know. It's not that I don't ever take other people's reading recommendations; many of my favorite books I learned about from someone else. But for whatever reason, obligation + time pressure = irrational barrier.
Second, I realized immediately that it is written in a style I cannot stand, which I call “modern American evangelical pop culture,” though I suspect it’s much more widespread than that. It’s annoying enough that magazine articles use pull quotes and sidebars, which make sustained reading difficult by distracting from the main text, but I find it inexcusable in book format. Ditto the dumbed-down writing, and the highly informal style, more appropriate for blogs than for books.
Despite these annoyances, I finished the book and am glad I read it. The first hurdle was easy to overcome because I was reading a borrowed book with a fixed return deadline. My breakthrough with the second was a stunning realization that I hope will aid me in appreciating more books written in this (all too common) style. (More)
