Book Log: September 2016

My youngest sister has been doing an annual post of books completed, and I always enjoy looking through it. I do keep a log of my finished books, so I thought cataloging my completed books at the close of every month would be a good way to dust off this blog and encourage me to jot down a few lines -- or a few paragraphs -- with my impressions (a compiled list will appear at the close of the year). I don't like spoilers, so while I put some initial thoughts after each title, when possible I'm purposely vague regarding plot specifics so as not to dissuade any of you from reading them.

The included Amazon links are affiliate links; many of these titles I check out from the library or already own, but should you be inclined to purchase one, these links only mean Amazon will give me a small percentage of the cost, at no additional expense to you.

41) 9/4: Before the Fall by Noah Hawley

This was the September selection for my book club. Initially it was chosen to meet the "thriller" requirement. While this book was engaging to read, I wouldn't call it a thriller, even though it's classified as such; that wasn't exactly a disappointment to me, though.

The premise, disclosed very early on, is that a private plane crashes, and there are only two survivors - a painter, unexpectedly on the plane, and a young boy.

As there is uncertainty surrounding why the plane crashed, the rest of the book is filled with flashbacks for each of the individuals on the plane, building up to the crash, as well as following the painter in the present day as he faces much speculation in the media (ah, too true, as we regularly see media fixate on tragedies beyond what seems appropriate or meaningful).

The four-year-old boy who survives stops talking after the crash (although he will open up to Scott, as the two of them forged a strong bond because of the rescue). I appreciated reflecting on this excerpt from Scott, the painter who saved the boy's life, as to why he believes the boy has shut down verbally after losing his entire family:

"The day I sobered up, I stopped talking," he says. "What was there to say? You need hope to form a thought. It takes -- I don't know -- optimism to speak, to engage in conversation. Because, really, what's the point of all this communicating? What difference does it really make what we say to each other? Or what we do, for that matter?"

This made me pause, as it feels like there's a lot of truth to this. I can even channel my hormonal teenage self, wallowing in self pity about whatever issue - those were the times I went silent. When I talk with friends or loved ones, even if it's about something inconsequential, I share because I have the belief that they are interested. Even in times when I've struggled coming to terms with the loss of my brother or my daughter, I could still find those special souls to open up to or turn to writing down my thoughts. Subconsciously, there must have been some hope that these things wouldn't always hold me down and control every moment, that I would find peace and contentment again, even joy.

All that to say, the quotation above isn't an epiphany that was pivotal in the book - it's glossed over, but I appreciated it all the same as I paused to consider it.

Now back to my overall impressions. It was no surprise to learn the author has worked on screenplays and television show scripts - the movie rights have already been secured. The book is engaging, and much as a television series (and/or a movie) has individual episodes/scenes that keep interest and move the plot forward, steadily building to the overarching culmination, so the book is structured to intentionally reveal some information while still keeping the cards close until the final moments, when it all comes together. My library had such interest in this title that they limited checkouts to only 7 days to try to get it in as many hands as quickly as possible. It's a fun read, but I don't anticipate it having staying power -- it's a blip, but an entertaining one.

42) 9/11: The Life We Bury by Allen Eskens

My toddler and I went to Iowa for a short weekend in order to attend a reception for my youngest sister and her husband and daughter while they were all here visiting from the Czech Republic. I wanted something to entertain me during the drive, so I checked out this audiobook.

First off, the reader was exceptional. Second, the premise was interesting: a man imprisoned for murdering a girl serves his sentence without complaint, only released at the end to hospice, as he is dying from cancer. The protagonist has to write someone's biography for his college class, and he ends up paired with this dying man.

There were times I had trouble suspending my disbelief. For starters, who gets to college without knowing what an opening statement is in a trial, especially with the types of shows so often on the air these days? And there were other scenes that happened because a character jumps to a false conclusion and acts unwisely. All the same, it kept me engaged while driving, so I'll give it a pass. After all, nothing exciting happens if protagonists make wise decisions all the time ("When I learned this pivotal detail, I called the police and they took care of it, apprehending the bad guy with absolutely no drama. The End").

The title was apt - I found myself reflecting on the power of secrets to control our lives as we learn about the secrets kept by the various characters and how they have dictated their life decisions. We try to hide the parts of ourselves that cripple and control us; the darkness whispers to us that our failings make us shameful, that we would be viewed differently by loved ones if only they knew, that they wouldn't care for us the same way were they to truly saw us as we are. Kept inside, they can consume us. There is power in releasing these secrets to the world, taking back the control and realizing that we all struggle, we all fail, but in sharing our stories, we are stronger. [Sidenote: Brene Brown articulates these ideas so well in Rising Strong (reviewed in my March book log).]

43) 9/14: Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair by Anne Lamott

Here was another audiobook selection, listened to while cooking, baking and cleaning. I've been wanting to read Anne Lamott for a while now, and this text is a short one, only running a couple hours long in audio format.

I don't have a lot to say (some of the issue may be my distraction while multitasking), but what really touched me was the story of the two boys, the wildfire, and the town's response.

And I jotted down this gem as well:

The world is always going to be dangerous, and people get badly banged up, but how can there be more meaning than helping one another stand up in the wind and stay warm?

44) 9/20: Minding Frankie by Maeve Binchy

In high school, I had a friend who was an exceptional singer. Truly a natural, with a wide range. Beginning as a freshman, she was regularly cast in lead roles for school productions. We were all in awe of her voice. Once in a while, she would come down with a cold, compromising her natural ability. She would attempt to sing a scale, and shake her head, disappointed with the results. Those of us who heard her, though, would scoff at her -- we told her she sounded better than us on her off days than we sounded on our best.

So now let's turn to Minding Frankie and find out why my singing friend would come to mind.

I would suggest that, while Binchy is a talented author with a skill for developing various characters and interwoven storylines, this book is akin to what was produced while having a cold. There seemed to be more characters than normal; I mostly appreciated the various story lines, but I often had to pause when transitioning to remind myself who we were now following; surely one or two could have been eliminated. I'd read what I thought was the denouement, only to be surprised to learn the book wasn't wrapped up yet. I expected a more explicit epilogue for the character that plagued me most (and yes, this tedious character might have soured my enjoyment of the storyline).

All that to say, there's something relaxing about reading a book by Maeve Binchy, so while it wasn't her strongest work, it's still better than most.

We have characters who are foils of other characters, which naturally led to comparisons of how we balance responsibility and expectations of those around us and the need for meaningful human connection.

There are plenty of questions to wrestle with in this book: What should you do when you can provide help, but doing so might sacrifice too much of yourself? How can you come alongside and encourage them to face the struggle to see if they can rise to the challenge? How do you instill confidence in those who haven't demonstrated that they are reliable? How do you find the internal strength to stop being manipulated and recognize the situation as it truly is, and to bloom in spite of the struggles? When and how do you step back and admit when you've gone too far?

45) 9/21: The Excellent Lombards by Jane Hamilton

My older sister Heather loaned me a book of Jane Hamilton's that she had read and thought I'd really enjoy. Those of you who have read even a small sampling of these book logs will notice that I default to reading e-books (they're so portable! I can read on my Paperwhite in the dark!), so you won't be surprised that I've shamefully neglected the loaned copy of The Book of Ruth. However, when I discovered that Jane Hamilton was going to be in town at a local bookstore, I put the event on my calendar.

The author was here to discuss her newest book, The Excellent Lombards. I thought it was perfect timing to pick up a signed copy for my sister's birthday.

I should note that I lost most of the month of August to a brutal sinus infection, and this book talk fell after a couple long days early on when I thought it was still a rough cold (PBS Kids was helping to raise my children for two days while I napped on the couch nearby, leading my older daughter to say, "Mom, I love when you're sick -- we get to watch SO MUCH TV!" You're welcome, kid).

Anyway. Under the false assumption that I had just turned the corner of my illness, I set out for the reading. I loved the Q&A with the author. The commentator had done her homework and asked interesting questions. I was out of my element, insofar as I hadn't yet read the book as many had and was clearly the youngest in the audience (come on, millennials, we can do better than this), and I'd even forgotten my trusty mindless knitting project, but I found Jane Hamilton engaging. She was so comfortable in her skin and, unlike other stilted readings that some authors do of their own work, Jane Hamilton had no difficulty capturing interest when reading an excerpt.

I queued up to get a book signed afterwards, sucking down lozenges so that I might have opportunity to complete an entire sentence before Jane Hamilton drew back in horror, fearing my potentially infectious state. She seemed ready to chat with me ("You're the youngest one here! How do you know about me? Where did you grow up?"), but I tried to keep it brief, knowing that the previous attendee had monopolized a fair bit of time and there were plenty more behind me.

Here's what I communicated: My older sister had initially recommended a book of hers to me (I left out the part where I hadn't yet read it). I continued to explain that when I was younger, I once gifted my older sister a book at Christmas. There happened to be a bookmark inside when she opened it. And then I did the sort of thing that only a sister would dare do...I asked if I could have it back for a little while, as that bookmark was actually marking my place. It took a moment for Heather to realize I was totally serious, and I have no doubt she was miffed at me.

I asked if Jane Hamilton could sign something like, "To Heather - Please forgive your sister for selfishly reading this book before you, yet again."

Jane Hamilton was amused and began to write. Here is what she wrote:

"For the most excellent Heather--
who is forgiven by the sister..."

Oops. She had already gotten everything switched around backwards, but it seemed ridiculous to point out Jane's error and be forced to buy TWO copies of a book so that it could be straightened out. And there was the pressing matter of the long queue behind me. So when she said, "Is this okay?", I played along, gratefully affirming the inscription, all the while wondering how to explain this to Heather.

So this is my solution. I trust Heather will get a kick out of having a signed copy of a book that suggests there has been this spat between us that is now finally forgiven, now that I have graciously forgiven HER, when truly it is I who should be begging forgiveness.

So did I read it? Indeed. Her birthday gift was delayed a couple weeks so that I could accomplish the task, but by the time you read this, the book will be happily ensconced in Heather's hands.

The Excellent Lombards has a lot of crossover to Jane Hamilton's own life (the protagonist is reminiscent of her daughter, and Jane does live on a Wisconsin apple orchard that her husband tends). The story centers around the family apple orchard and wrestles with issues of who gets to stay and who gets to leave (or, perhaps, who should stay and who should leave).

This coming-of-age piece was easy to read, and the last few chapters I finished while listening to the audiobook (I'd placed it on hold at my library once I heard of the book reading, but my copy didn't come up until recently). I wished I had avoided the audiobook - the reader has a range of voices, but after hearing Jane Hamilton read some of it, the substitute grated on me, being so different from Jane's. That likely colored my perception of the last few chapters, but I don't regret having picked up the copy to read...as long as Heather sees fit to forgive me for my blatant disregard of protocol.

46) 9/30: The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

I first read this book in high school. I returned to it as it was a selected text on the CraftLit podcast. As such, my listening was spread out over months, often while multitasking with knitting, cleaning, or food prep, which means there's strong muscle memory ("Hey, when I last mowed, this is what was going on in the story..."), but it also means my attention can be distracted.

When I first encountered this book, Newland Archer annoyed me, and that impression still remained. We see a society where things are rarely spoken outright, and people fall in line so as not to rock the boat, but in enters Countess Olenska, a family member who has left a bad marriage and intends to start over. Her unconventional life and her refusal to regret her decision make her a difficult read for the family. There's melancholy, regret, and wrestling with expectations and societal conventions throughout.

Book Log: April 2016

My youngest sister has been doing an annual post of books completed, and I always enjoy looking through it. I do keep a log of my finished books, so I thought cataloging my completed books at the close of every month would be a good way to dust off this blog and encourage me to jot down a few lines -- or a few paragraphs -- with my impressions (a compiled list will appear at the close of the year). I don't like spoilers, so while I put some initial thoughts after each title, when possible I'm purposely vague regarding plot specifics so as not to dissuade any of you from reading them.

The included Amazon links are affiliate links; many of these titles I check out from the library or already own, but should you be inclined to purchase one, these links only mean Amazon will give me a small percentage of the cost, at no additional expense to you.

19) 4/3: Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Here's a book I kept seeing mentioned. I could understand why people were enjoying it. It's a fun read (although the middle third was slower to get through, and the cultural references felt tedious at times).

First off, I need to give the disclaimer that I am not a video game aficionado; we didn't own a console growing up, so my only experience was when I was at friends' houses. I don't play online games, either, but I certainly knew a little about World of Warcraft. However, this lack of information didn't lesson my enjoyment. Also, the summary I give below is introduced quite early to set up the premise of the book - don't feel that these are spoilers, as you'd learn these details in the prologue.

Imagine the world in 2044. Many people are very into playing the massively multi-player online game OASIS. It's quite realistic and allows people to escape the drudgery of their daily lives, all the more important as recession is rampant; the real world's infrastructure is crumbling, so people avoid reality and retreat to OASIS. Interest is increased when the creator dies and, since he has no family, he reveals that he has hidden an Easter egg somewhere in OASIS. The one who discovers it wins his fortune. First, they must discover three keys that lead through three gates, at the end of which is the Easter egg. The creator was a huge 80's fan, so interest is revived in music, culture, and games from that decade, as many suspect they will help discover useful hints.

Five years pass, and no progress is made for the hunt. Then the protagonist, a senior in a virtual high school, discovers the first key. Interest is again revived, and this story covers the hunt for the fortune.

I was pretty good at suspending my disbelief, although periodically I felt like Wade had magical epiphanies to aid in his success that likely would have been found out sooner by the lackeys at IOI, the token evil corporation, with their limitless resources. All the same, the author does a decent job sharing the history of the hunt as well as realistically explaining how the world has changed. Certainly there are questions that arise regarding what is real and could hint at our own tech addictions.

It's not a must read, nor an important read, but it's an entertaining one if you need something light.

20) 4/4: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

I'd read this book when I was young, but I can't recall if I'd ever revisited it as an adult. My interest was revived when I realized how limited my memories of it were when I was reading When You Reach Me last month.

It was pleasant to reread. You get good versus evil, freedom versus conformity. You also see bravery in Meg, the flawed but faithful protagonist, as she travels to rescue her father with her human and otherworldly companions.

I enjoyed it, but I think I was expecting more, perhaps because I've read a lot of good literature influenced by L'Engle's transformative work - it's hard to hold up under such a legacy. Perhaps I expected it to be longer? It's certainly not a bad thing to be able to tell a story succinctly, though.

21) 4/11: Tara Road by Maeve Binchy

As a teenager, I once attended a presentation where the speaker shared about different levels of communication: the most general is casual, superficial talk, and at the pinnacle is deeply personal information. He shared how infrequently people spend time at the deepest level; even within marriage, it's easy to get stuck with figuring out practical details, especially when children are present -- transportation logistics, schedules, house upkeep, work and school commitments, extracurricular activities. It's often a luxury to have deeply meaningful conversations.

In Tara Road, we see how the various characters get stuck in their routines and become blind to the reality around them. Binchy examines relationships and the lies we tell ourselves and others.  The focus is on friendships, both platonic and within marriage. If you're not taking the time to reflect or have honest conversations, you settle into believing everything is as you see it. This can lead to misunderstandings that grow into something that can no longer be ignored.

Like the first book of hers I read (in January), this one was a pleasant read; she crafts a good story. I don't often need or want a lot of excitement in my books. This one is a longer read (648 pages), but that allows much to be done with the characters. We get to see what drives them and what their faults are, and then when their world is unsettled, how they respond, either uncovering unknown strength and abilities or losing themselves as they realize they were never truly in control.

22) 4/18: The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy by Jeanne Birdsall

A friend's daughter was devouring this audiobook series, so I looked into it. Reviews were strong, and it was a National Book Award winner, so I added it to my list. Such a charming read! It is a sweet and innocent story of four sisters and a widowed father. The father is loving but very much a peripheral character in this book. This book covers their time at a summer home for three weeks and their adventures there; each girl gets some attention from the author (their ages range from 4 to 12, and their personalities are distinct enough to tell them apart). I feel like it won't be much longer before I start reading this aloud to Brennan.

The children aren't perfect (which would make for a boring read), but while they can get into trouble, their hearts are in the right place and there is eventually resolution. Their relationships with each other is sweet as well; the sisters hold family meetings, either emergency or planned, to discuss events and make plans, and they swear each other to secrecy, citing Penderwick Family Honor (unless it seems harm could come to someone, then they are released from their bond).

23) 4/24: The Penderwicks on Gardam Street by Jeanne Birdsall
This was the second in the Penderwicks series. The family lives on Gardam Street, and this book picks up soon after their summer adventures conclude. School is in session and their Aunt Claire delivers a letter to their father that had been written by his wife shortly before her death four years earlier. The contents - that her husband should begin dating again - frame the storyline; the sisters decide to orchestrate horrible partners for him to date so that he will give up on the venture. There are also other plot lines taking place - Jane's deception surrounding a school play is a primary one, but the other sisters have their own issues they wrestle with.

This was published in 2008, but it has a timeless feel to it; I could easily see it becoming a classic. It doesn't quite seem contemporary given the freedom the girls have to wander on their own, but it embodies the innocence of childhood and I can just see my daughter getting caught up in the story and discussing all the details at length.

24) 4/25: Peace Like a River by Leif Enger

I taught for two years in Minnesota in a suburb of the Twin Cities, beginning in the fall of 2004. This book, published in 2002, was already part of the curriculum in the ninth-grade class I taught. That was my initial introduction to the book; first I read it that summer to get a feel for it, then I re-read it when the unit came up.

I'm not sure that I had read it since then, but it is a powerful, thoughtful book, and I have found myself revisiting some old favorites again.

One reason I don't go into much plot detail for these accounts is that I worry I won't do the books justice - a list of some of the highlights might take away the power of the actual book, or it may make you avoid reading it if my description isn't your typical reading style. Plus, I'd rather go into a book or movie with little understanding of what to expect. This is one I went into blind, and after more than a decade had passed, the details had dimmed considerably. It was a pleasure to read this one again.

The narrator is Reuben, and the story takes place when he is eleven. It is clear he is reflecting on this account as an adult, but the foreshadowing hints at tragedy to come and uncertainty as to who else reaches adulthood with him. It is well done - Reuben doesn't sugarcoat events, even when the truth paints him in a poor light. My freshmen loved this book, as did I. Seriously a great read with great themes to reflect on.

25) 4/28: Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary

I first read this as a young student (possibly sixth grade?). It's another Newbery Award winner.

I noticed I've been reading a lot of children's literature this month - I like to read YA lit, but this has been more than normal. It's due to the fact that we've been reading chapter books to our oldest for a while now; as she is growing as a reader and as we work our way through other books, I'm keeping an eye out for what might be on the horizon.

The protagonist is a young boy who writes fan letters to his favorite author. It takes a while for the author to initially respond, but Mr Henshaw, through his responses, pushes Leigh, an aspiring author himself, to develop the skills that would help him to reach that end.

I found myself invested in Leigh. Here's a young boy coming to terms with his parents' divorce and the new home and school that results from it. Through writing (both to Mr Henshaw and the journal he begins to keep), he matures as a writer and as a person. All of the accounts are epistolary, and I'm a sucker for a well-done book in letters (for two great books in that style, see The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and Where'd You Go, Bernadette).

Book Log: January 2016

My youngest sister has been doing an annual post of books completed, and I always enjoy looking through it. I do keep a log of my finished books, so I thought cataloging my completed books at the close of every month would be a good way to dust off this blog and encourage me to jot down a few lines -- or a few paragraphs -- with my impressions (a compiled list will appear at the close of the year). I don't like spoilers, so while I put some initial thoughts after each title, when possible I'm purposely vague regarding plot specifics so as not to dissuade any of you from reading them.

The included Amazon links are affiliate links; many of these titles I check out from the library or already own, but should you be inclined to purchase one, these links only mean Amazon will give me a small percentage of the cost, at no additional expense to you.

1) 1/12: Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Yes, I know I'm late to the bandwagon on this one. Some of my interest in reading this one was because of the interest so many others had in it -- when I was teaching, I would try to stay relevant and read the books that were trending (I also watched American Idol then, as did many of my students). While I'm no longer in the classroom, I still find myself checking out popular titles, although if they don't interest me, I have no problem ignoring their existence (I'm looking at you, Stephanie Meyer).

This one was a pleasant surprise in its writing style, although perhaps it shouldn't have been. I knew the premise for the book, but not much about Elizabeth Gilbert, and I wrongly assumed it would be flighty and vacuous. She writes well, is intelligent, and her account of her year of seeking and self examination is easy to read. I read The Signature of All Things last year, which was a thoroughly researched piece of literary fiction (interesting to the end, but not on my must-read recommendation list), and that actually pushed me to finally check this one out.

2) 1/14: A Week in Winter by Maeve Binchy

I hadn't heard of Maeve Binchy's work before she passed in 2012, when a good friend mourned the loss of one of her favorite authors. I made note to read something of hers someday. I somewhat arbitrarily selected this work - I read a lot on my Kindle through Overdrive, and this one was immediately available, but it did not disappoint.

It was a refreshing jaunt through Ireland, as seen through several different characters, all of whom cross paths at a guest house as they struggle with finding acceptance. I'm a sucker for a book of short stories, all tied together by a common thread (you were exceptional at this, Olive Kitteridge - and I see Amazon calls short stories as I mentioned above 'linked tales').

It just so happens that this was Binchy's final work, published posthumously, but I don't anticipate it being the last one of hers that I read.

3) 1/23: The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

I make note of books that others recommend, and this one had the further bonus of having won the Pulitzer, so I put myself on a long waitlist to see what it was all about. It is not for the faint of heart, coming in at 774 pages, but it was a fast read for me. I love reading classics, the longer the better. The time and attention to character development is what gets me. This is a contemporary book, but the length allows Tartt to delve into several story lines and explore them at length. As I read this, it reminded me of a Dickensian book - the protagonist down on his luck, eventually finding redemption through relationships as he tries to make sense of his circumstances.

The characters haunted me. That is the best compliment I can pay; too often I read a book, but I can't fully enter it because something is off in the writing - maybe the dialogue is forced, maybe everyone runs together in my mind or the reactions to situations aren't natural. But this book has a protagonist who is put in some extreme situations (and makes so many poor decisions I just want to shake him), but the story is believable. One impulsive act can lead to another, poor choices can become destructive habits.

The entire book isn't all doom and gloom, but there's an underlying feeling of suspense throughout (not to the level of Gone Girl  or The Girl on the Train, but even when things are going well, there's still this pulse of his past coming to haunt him).

Theo tries to tie everything together at the end - the meaning of life, the role art plays, how love factors in. Hints of Ecclesiastes come in, with him feeling how meaningless life is. But he finds hope and meaning, and the last pages are some of the most poetic in the whole book. I found myself touched, highlighting them to remember.

4) 1/24 A Week in Summer by Maeve Binchy

I read this short story as a quick palate cleanser after the magnum opus I just finished. It fell flat with me. Binchy can write, and as I saw in the other book of hers, she can do short stories well, but this was too abrupt. It's 25 pages, but I felt like it either needed to be edited down to work better, or fleshed out more. As is, it was a disappointment.

Also, I chose this book thinking it was a companion to her work A Week in Winter, but it is a stand-alone, not tying in the guest house (that didn't factor into my 'meh' impression, but it's worth mentioning).

5) 1/28: The Awakening and Selected Short Stories by Kate Chopin

I knew nothing about The Awakening, other than it having a place in Americana (after reading, I wasn't surprised to learn that it met with criticism and has appeared on banned book lists over the years). I thought it was time to add a classic to the mix, so this book was the selection.

The title for the main story is apt. At the start of the book, we meet Edna Pontellier, a married woman and mother of two boys, going through the motions of life. The mood throughout is a relaxed, sleepy feel. We begin on Grand Isle, where the family retreats over the summers, and the lazy days stretch on when she returns to New Orleans.

Edna is detached from her life, feeling quite disconnected when she returns home. Her husband travels often, and she went from a docile wife and disinterested mother to being awakened to a longing to seriously weigh her passions and desires even when they run contrary to society's expectations.

"She was fond of her children in an uneven, impulsive way. She would sometimes gather them passionately to her heart; she would sometimes forget them. The year before they had spent part of the summer with their grandmother Pontellier in Iberville. Feeling secure regarding their happiness and welfare, she did not miss them except with an occasional intense longing. Their absence was a sort of relief, though she did not admit this, even to herself. It seemed to free her of a responsibility which she had blindly assumed and for which Fate had not fitted her."

It's a sobering read. It's not easy to find the freedom Edna seeks without sacrificing the attachments to her spouse and children. I believe there's often this understanding that while there are compromises within marriage and parenthood, they are deemed worthwhile because of what you gain in exchange. But Edna seems to have been pushed along, not having contemplated much of anything before, and when she starts to focus on herself, change doesn't happen without great cost.

There are several short stories to end the book. My favorite was "Silk Stockings" (I enjoyed reading an account of a hard-working, devoted mother coming into a little money, and while she had every intention of spending it wisely, she finds herself indulging in some overdue self-pampering).

Chopin isn't one for tying up loose ends into happy endings, but that need not be a reason to avoid her stories - I can appreciate a realistic ending. Although I do admit the repeated sadnesses and disappointments make me read into Chopin's perspective on life.