Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening by Carol Wall

Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening by Carol Wall is subtitled "How I Learned the Unexpected Joy of a Green Thumb and an Open Heart." What I never expected when I opened the book was to read about a woman who disliked color in her yard. That struck me as bizarre, at first, but her reasoning is really quite fascinating.

Mr. Owita was a real person who has been given a fictional name for the sake of privacy. Not just a gardener but a man with professional knowledge, he was working at a local garden center and in the author's neighborhood when he came to her attention. Carol Wall asked her neighbor if she could possibly get Mr. Owita to work on her yard, as well. She admits that neither she or her husband had any skill or interest in maintaining their yard.

Mr. Owita had a past life in Kenya and a secret that didn't come out until the end of the book, although there are a lot of nervous glances and almost-confessions. I dislike such obvious devices but I was captivated by the charm of Mr. Owita and the openness of Carol Wall.  They became fast friends and, as she went through second and third rounds of cancer, she found Mr. Owita's attitude so upbeat, his willingness to listen so unusual, that she was able to speak freely with him about her fears while he was helping her to overcome one of them -- the fear of colorful flowers.

Because Mr. Owita's secret and the reason for Wall's fear of color are gradually revealed, I'm not going to give them away. I'll just say that I really enjoyed reading Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening, even though I often thought the dialogue (which she tried to recall with accuracy) felt contrived. So, the book wasn't the best-written memoir I've read but I loved learning about Mr. Owita, where he came from and how he ended up working in a garden shop and grocery store, his struggle to bring his daughter to the United States and the growing friendship between Wall and Owita and his family.  It's a lovely story and I got tears in my eyes more than once.

Recommended -  Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening is about friendship and beauty, about life and death and enjoying every moment. It's about how a kind, upbeat man who had every reason to be dismayed at the outcome of his life helped a woman deal with her fears and even overcome at least one of them.  It's beautiful. Although I tend to avoid anything and everything with the word "cancer" in it since my mother's death, I enjoyed Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening. I did, however, feel like the book had a slightly disingenuous tone.  Much as I liked the story, it also seemed awkward and forced, too heavy on devices like the "secret" that isn't revealed till the end. Because of that, I gave the book a 3.5/5 rating and I recommend it but it's not a favorite.

©2014 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery  or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

A Good American by Alex George

After an hour or so, Frederick sat down on a bench and rested. He was thirsty, and hot. He wiped his brow and thought about returning to the hotel. Just then, the sound of a cornet floated through the air. This was not the sort of dry fugue that echoed through Hanover concert halls. The instrument had been unshackled: it spiraled upward, a whirlwind of graceful elision and complex melody. The music streaked into the night, every note dripping with joy. He stood up and followed the sound.

~p. 23 of Advance Reader's Copy: A Good American [Some changes may have been made to the final print version]

Here's a new way to find a book. I started reading the buzz about A Good American by Alex George in late fall of 2011 and was particularly interested in the fact that the characters' immigrant story bears some remarkable similarities to my own family's history. But, it was the author's graciousness (discovered via various tweets) that captured me. I wanted to know more about his book simply because he seemed like such a nice guy. Authors, put that in your pipe and smoke it. Being nice can get you some attention. In my case, I got lucky and managed to snag an advance reader, although I had already added the book to my wish list well before the opportunity to acquire a review copy presented itself.

It's been a month since I read A Good American, but no worries about the time delay between reading and reviewing. A Good American is the kind of family saga that sticks to your ribs like a well-balanced meal.

In early 20th-century Prussia, Jette's parents have pretty much given up hope of ever marrying off their daughter till Frederick woos her with his beautiful voice and kind spirit. But, Jette's family will never approve of Frederick and eventually the couple has no choice but to run away. Jette steals a small family heirloom and Frederick is forced to leave with nothing but the clothing on his back as they set off for America.

So begins the story of the Meisenheimer family, narrated by James Meisenheimer, Jette and Frederick's grandson. From Frederick and Jette's journey to New Orleans to the generations that follow in Beatrice, Missouri, A Good American tells the story of a music- and food-loving immigrant American family through births and deaths, challenges and joys.

What I loved about A Good American:

Besides the fact that A Good American is a well-written book, I absolutely adore all the references to music and the gradual changes in the bar/restaurant that the family works in, eventually owns, then passes on through three generations. The changes in the restaurant and the descriptions of food are all believable and add interest to this family saga.

Alex George's writing is lovely, intelligent writing.

He gazed up at the sky, so different from home. In Europe the stars hunkered down low across the night, dull and pendulous. Here, though, the heavens were filled with a million dazzling celestial bodies, each one casually brushing up to infinity.

"I could get to like this place," he said.

~p. 47

I also thought the author did a good job of handling the accent of a black character from New Orleans. The tendency of most non-native writers is to overdo Southern accents of any kind, heavily emphasizing tricky dialect that can vary dramatically from one Southern region or city to the next. The author kept his Southern character's dialogue subtle. I thought the skill with which the author handled those bits of Southern dialogue was particularly amazing given the fact that the author is British.

What I disliked about A Good American:

The last 75 pages or so were weaker than the rest of the book, in my humble opinion, but that may be partly because I enjoyed reading about the earlier time period more than the modern. Once we got to the narrator's story of his own life, it also became a little bit more "coming of age" and less a family saga -- just a little. I really dislike "coming of age" stories, so the historical parts won me over and the latter bit lost me a little. But that is, as I said, a personal preference. I did like the way the book ended.

Otherwise, the only thing that really jumped out at me was that too many people died. There came a point that I felt like the deaths were starting to stand out; they began to feel like plot points.

The bottom line:

A well-written novel with a charming emphasis on food and music, recommended particularly to those who love family sagas but also a rocking fine novel for just about anyone. There are some brief scenes of graphic violence and a bit of the coming-of-age type of sexual stuff, but nothing that will warp your kid for life if he or she happens to pick up your copy (this is adult fiction, not YA, in case that sentence is misleading).

You can follow Alex George on his Facebook author page or visit Alex George's website to learn more about A Good American and the author (who will become an American citizen, soon). A Good American is getting a tremendous amount of attention. It's the #1 Indie Next Pick for February, has been listed on Oprah.com as one of February's "Books to Watch For," and is being touted as one of the "best books of the month" on Amazon. Wow! That's some major attention.

Mr. George just happens to hail from one of my favorite towns in England. We stopped through Marlborough, last year, and ate here:

Definitely a place worth stopping, if you ever happen to find yourself in Wiltshire.

©2012 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Post #2 for today. I'm in catch-up mode. Next week I'll go to weekly posts.

I'm not sure I have much to add to the many reviews that are already out there, when it comes to The Help. But, here's something I wrote as I was reading it:

I'm loving The Help. It's the first Southern book I've read in a long time that is genuine. Stockett has the language down pat and it's really pretty fun to read about things that happened in our area, places I know and names I've heard for years but don't know much about, like the story of Medgar Evers.

I avoided reading The Help for a very long time. A conversation on Twitter was the tipping point. I've had a copy on my shelf for quite a while, but I was hesitant to read the book for several reasons:

1. The Help has been hyped to death, therefore . . .

2. Everyone on the planet seems to have read and reviewed the book, already. I tend to like reading books I haven't heard much about and find myself happier talking about lesser-known titles and authors.

3. I don't consider reading about life in the South "escapist" because I live in the Deep South . . . and I am definitely an escapist reader.

So, what -- if anything -- might I have to add as a person who actually lives fairly close to the book's setting? Like I said, not much. What I can tell you is that there are still plenty of Hilly Holbrooks living in Mississippi. I could probably get lynched for saying that, but I particularly mean there is a cliquishness in small-town Mississippi that you can't miss if you're "not from here". While I'm not like Celia in the sense of having been raised in a lower class than those in Hilly Holbrook's little Junior League circle, I related best to Celia because I understand what it's like to be an outsider in Mississippi.

Setting aside, the writing in The Help is excellent and I love the story. I cannot tell a lie. I fell in love with it the moment I hit that first comment about Aibileen having a fight with the many pleats she had to iron. I don't normally like reading books that are written in vernacular because I tend to have trouble shifting gears and am firmly of the belief that accent makes itself known through the words that are spoken in dialogue, but in this particular case it just worked for me. I'm accustomed to the mode of speech in The Help and it didn't jar me in the usual manner.

There wasn't anything in particular that I disliked about The Help, although Amy and I had an interesting discussion about the fact that the storyline is, in effect, about a white woman rescuing blacks and the truth of the matter is that it was people like Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking eloquently and Rosa Parks making a stand that truly led to change. Obviously, there were white people in the Civil Rights movement and some of them died for their beliefs, but change would not have taken place without the determination and courage of those who were living with their rights withheld.

Excellent writing, a terrific storyline worth talking about and a realistic look at life in the Sixties in Mississippi make The Help a book worth reading and talking about.

But, you already knew that, didn't you? Did you know we grow everything bigger in Mississippi, even our stuffed mice?

©2011 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

You Know When the Men Are Gone by Siobhan Fallon

You Know When the Men Are Gone

By Siobhan Fallon

Copyright 2011

Amy Einhorn Books - Short Stories

225 pages

It's been quite a while since I read You Know When the Men Are Gone, but it's still pretty vividly etched in my mind. I cried a lot, for one thing, and not a lot of books require quite so many tissues.

You Know When the Men Are Gone is a series of interconnected short stories about life in the military -- for the soldiers, for the families left behind at Fort Hood, for those who must deal with pain and loss. Affairs, divorce, life-changing injury, illness, death, loneliness, dealing with children during a husband's lengthy absences . . . the author really covers every angle.

The title story begins with the tale of a Meg, an army wife who has no children, no pets, no real friends, only the Family Readiness Group and a couple nosy neighbors to keep her company. Then, a new and exotic neighbor with a big, noisy dog and two quiet children moves in and Meg becomes obsessed with Natalya. The walls are thin and listening in becomes her entertainment. Where is Natalya going late at night, after singing her children to sleep? Who is the man Meg keeps hearing through the walls? Is it worth the long stretches of loneliness and worry to stay married to a soldier?

I wasn't sure where the author was taking me, at first, but the ending to this first story left me a little teary and very satisfied, so I continued on. And, each story fed a little into the next. In the fourth story, "Inside the Break," you hear the words everyone has been afraid may come:

"Alpha Company got hit," she said calmly. "Sergeant Schaeffer died."

Later, you will read about one of the men in Alpha Company who was severely injured. And, the final story, "Gold Star," introduces you to Sgt. Schaeffer's widow.

Checking her watch again, [Josie] finally pulled into the empty Gold Star Family designated spot in front. She waited a moment, peering at herself in the mirror, composing her face into what she imagined an ordinary face looked like, tugging her mouth into a smile but then giving up. She knew the spouses walking by with their loaded carts were hesitating, trying not to stare into Josie's window, trading lifted eyebrows with the other women passing. As she got out and locked her car, a white-haired veteran paused by his truck in the Purple Heart Recipient space a few feet away. He was wearing a black baseball cap with VIETNAM embroidered in block letters across the front. He stepped across the yellow line between them, his ropey-veined hand outstretched.

"I'm grateful for your sacrifice," he said. "Our country can never thank you enough."

He made it sound as if she had willingly offered Eddie up; Josie shuddered but gave the man her hand. This is why she avoided the Gold Star spot: "Gold Star," with its imagery of schoolchildren receiving A's and stickers for a job well done, was the military euphemism for losing a soldier in combat. Family members received a few special privileges like this lousy parking space, but that meant the pity rising from the asphalt singed hotter than any Texas sun. Josie blinked to keep her eyes dry and the vet took a step back, seeing he had inflicted pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

pp. 209-210 from "Gold Star," in You Know When the Men Are Gone, ARC (some changes may have been made to the final print version)

I don't know about you, but that's enough to make me fog up. And, the story becomes even more stirring and poignant. I was sobbing when I closed the book. It's a rough read but those of us who aren't married to or close to someone in the military really need to read this kind of book to be reminded what people are going through to protect the lives we love.

It just so happens that I finished reading You Know When the Men Are Gone on the anniversary of the WWII invasion of Normandy, also known as "D-Day". I happened across that tidbit when I was looking for photos to illustrate my review and discovered that there was a dearth of news stories in our national news. Where were the tributes to "D-Day"? I couldn't find them. I was upset enough to write a ranting post that I opted not to publish because it was ventilation and not worth inflicting on anyone. But, the timing was interesting.

There wasn't anything I particularly disliked about You Know When the Men Are Gone, so let's go straight to the ending thoughts.

The bottom line:

A highly recommended book of short stories, written in a plain-spoken style with surprising emotional impact. The author is, in fact, a military wife and it shows. The stories are authentic, powerful, packed with emotion.

Cover thoughts:

I had no idea what this book was about, based on the cover. I just knew it had gotten a lot of very positive buzz and added it to my wish list on that basis. Once you know it's stories about soldiers and their families, the cover makes sense -- the gold star, the American flag. It's maybe a little too understated, but I like the look.

And, your illustration of the day:

Wrong war, but I figured I might as well use this post to stick in a photo from the Churchill Museum in London:

Those dummies look almost real, don't they? Well, of course, they look pretty plastic in person but my husband and I were very impressed with the museum and how the "war rooms" have been restored to look as they did during WWII. If you're ever in London, I highly recommend visiting the Churchill Museum. It's kind of expensive, but worth the cost. I bought my book about Churchill at the museum and I'm thinking I may have to sneak that one in, soon. It seems to be calling to me.

My friend Paula passed along her ARC after she finished it. Thanks, PJ!!

©2011 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.