Today’s topic is the top ten books on your summer TBR list. Last year, I bought the beautiful clothbound Penguin Classics edition of Les Misérables and was saving it for this summer. I started reading it June 2 and am a little over halfway through. Reading the book has put me in a French mood, so seven of the books on my list are set in France:

1. Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery* – I’m eager to revisit some of the cast of The Elegance of the Hedgehog. I loved that book.
2. How the French Invented Love by Marilyn Yalom* – I’m always up for French-related cultural nonfiction, and this book sounds amazing.
3. Jacob’s Folly by Rebecca Miller – I pre-ordered this and have had it for months but haven’t had a chance to read it yet. I was waiting for the spring semester to be over, so this one’s pretty high on my TBR list.
4. Les Misérables by Victor Hugo* – This is what inspired the direction of my summer reading, so of course it has to go on the list!
5. Lotería by Mario Alberto Zambrano – This book comes out in July. I have an advance copy, and just skimming, I’m already intrigued by how the book is set up.
6. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert* – I got the much-hyped Lydia Davis translation of this book a couple of years ago, but it’s been sitting on my shelf ever since. Hopefully, this is the year I get to it!
7. The Most Beautiful Walk in the World by John Baxter* – I’ve read two of Baxter’s books. I love him because his travel writing straight-up transports you to France.
8. Perfume by Patrick Süskind* – This has been on my shelf for years. I snagged a copy at a library sale a little after the movie came out…if the movie is that twisted, I imagine the book is even more awesome.
9. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving – I’m one of the few people on earth who has never read this book. The Estella Society is doing a readalong in July, so I’m in! *dusts off copy*
10. The Sexual Life of an Islamist in Paris by Leïla Marouane* – I got a copy of this a few of months ago for the Europa Editions challenge, and it’s also high up on my list.

* Vive la France!

Her boss sends a hitman named Vice Versa on her tail, and Allie sets off to LA in search of her parents, hoping that they’ll know what to do. Her father is aloof and hard to track down, and her unreliable mother left them long ago to be a tambourine player in a band that’s currently opening for Billy Idol. In her frantic search for her parents, she’ll also come across an old friend from high school, a paraplegic pornographer (who brings to mind Larry Flynt), and a hot surfer dude who turns out to be a dealer who wants her stash.

The Wonder Bread Summer wants to be that kind of book: an irreverent, zany whirlwind of an adventure that keeps readers entertained with all of its ridiculous scenarios. I do think Blau has the skills to have pulled it off. Unfortunately, what many call “satire,” some call hipster racism. And this book smacks of it.

Most of the characters in this book, you see, are people of color. And under other circumstances, I would probably find that freaking amazing. But hahaha, joke’s on us! That white girl you see on the book cover? That’s Allie, whose father is black/white and mother is Chinese/Jewish. Allie’s Chinese grandmother, Wai Po, always encouraged her to fake that’s she’s white — something presumably impossible for Wai Po, since she speaks in nothing but proverbs and all caps (or rather, “like Chinese characters in Jerry Lewis movies”). But once people find out Allie is multiracial, game over! She’s referred to as… “China-Blackie.” Hilarious!

Non-PC though that is, Allie makes mistakes with all that confusing race stuff, too. Take this scene, for instance:

“Dad…If a man named Vice Versa shows up at the restaurant or your house, don’t open the door.”

“Who is Vice Versa and why would he show up?” …

“He’s just some mean-nasty black guy that’s been giving me trouble.”

“What kind of trouble has he given you?” Frank’s voice went up in a way that Allie had never heard before.

… “I haven’t quite met him yet – ”

“Then how do you know he’s a black guy?”

“Come on, Dad! The guy’s name is Vice Versa! Can you imagine a white guy named Vice Versa?”

“Allie, I have raised you better than that! Do not assume that just because his name is original he is a black man.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

And Allie feels really bad when she says or thinks things that might be construed as racist:

Jorge looked out the window and Allie followed his gaze. A Hispanic guy, who looked somewhat like Jorge but bigger, was waving his arms, pointing to a rolled-down garage door…Jorge handed several bills to his bigger twin. “My cousin!” he said to Allie, and threw an arm up around the man’s shoulder.

“Oh!” Allie said. She was relieved to know that she had been right about their looking alike, that she hadn’t just thought all Mexicans looked the same.

Teehee.

That about sums up The Wonder Bread Summer‘s satire and shock value: most of it is race-based. The book couldn’t just open with a naked dude flashing himself to innocent Allie. No, it opened by zeroing in on the fact that Allie’s drug-dealer boss’s [you know] was “black as espresso, blacker than his face, and as thick as a pair of tube socks rolled up.”  Etc., etc., etc. Honestly, the book’s explicit sexual content didn’t bother me in the least. What did bother me was the loaded, stereotypical way those scenes were often written.

It could’ve been outrageous and entertaining on the plot alone, a silly and fun summer read. But sorry, hipster racism really isn’t my idea of literary cotton candy.

The Wonder Bread Summer was released in May 2013 by Harper Perennial, an imprint of HarperCollins. This book is on tour right now, so check out what other bloggers are saying about it (I am definitely in the minority on this one).

Goodreads
I read it as a(n): ARC
Source: Publisher
Pages: 288

One of the central questions that Wolitzer explores in the book is, what happens to talent as one gets older? Generally speaking, most people don’t go on to make a successful career of the talents they were praised for as teenagers. It’s a lesson that the book’s central character, Jules, struggles to cope with all the way through middle age. While her dear friends Ethan and Ash make it to that rare stratosphere of fame and fortune, Jules own talents don’t translate as well to adulthood and she’s forced to find a new direction in life. Her happiness for her friends’ success aside, jealousy is always bubbling just beneath the surface.

Nostalgia is another topic that the book scrutinizes. Jules looks at her summers with The Interestings through rose colored lenses. Nothing in her adult life can compare to their supposedly perfect time at camp, and it blinds her to the way she and her friends really are. Spoilerish (highlight to read): At one point, after letting Jules uproot their lives in order to chase this elusive magical past, her fed up husband finally bursts out that The Interestings “aren’t that interesting!” Meanwhile, the world is moving on around them: the mysterious AIDS epidemic is terrifying people, advances are being made in technology, people are getting married and starting families. Even within their own little microcosm, the group must deal with reality: some must face things that happened in the past, while others are going through physical and mental health scares in the present.

The Interestings is comprised of a lot of the mundane events related to everyday life. Most of it unfolds slowly over the course of several decades. In a lot of ways, The Interestings is what I wish Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Marriage Plot had been: both are domestic, meandering novels that explore similar themes. They’re both more about the process than the end result. But where Eugenides failed to fully develop his characters (especially his female ones), Wolitzer shines, giving the core group of friends a complex background — it’s one of the main reasons why the book is so long. She doesn’t develop a couple of The Interestings nearly as much, but that is for a reason I won’t go into because it’s a major spoiler. I’ll just say Wolitzer made wise choices in the way she developed (or didn’t develop) her book.

The Interestings isn’t for everyone; I suspect there are many out there who, in addition to being frustrated with the slow pace, would also find some of the characters terribly obnoxious. (If you hate the domestic dramas written Jeffrey Eugenides and Jonathan Franzen — and many do — I think it’s safe to say that The Interestings probably isn’t for you.) But so far, this has been one of my favorite books of 2013. It’s a sweeping, beautifully crafted character study that is very much based in truth.

The Interestings was published in April 2013 by Riverhead Books, an imprint of Penguin.

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I read it as a(n): ARC
Source: Publisher
Pages: 480

Yesterday, my review of Sexy Feminism: A Girl’s Guide to Love, Success, and Style was published at Bitch Media. Since Bitch is one of my favorite magazines ever, I, for one, am totally psyched! Check it out.

A Guide to Being Born by Ramona Ausubel

Publisher/Year: Riverhead, 2013
Format: ARC
Pages: 208
Source: Publisher

What it is: A collection of eleven strange short stories related to the cycle of life. The stories are organized into four themes: birth, gestation, conception, and love.

Why I read it: Ausubel has been on my radar for a while now; I’m still dying to read her first book, No One Is Here Except All of Us. Since I’m a fan of short stories (especially weird ones), I wanted to give this a try.

What I thought: This was an uneven collection for me, but there’s no denying that Ausubel is an amazing writer. Many of the stories have elements of magical realism, but even the ones that don’t have something strange in them. Either way, they all illustrate various elements of human nature in unexpected ways. Some of my favorites were “Poppyseed,” about a couple who decides to subject their mentally disabled  eight-year-old daughter to a hysterectomy (probably the most twisted story in the collection, but also the one with the most haunting impact on me); “Atria,” story with fantastical elements about a teen who claims she got pregnant as the result of a made-up rape rather than a one-time fling; and “Tributaries,” about a community of people who grow an extra arm every time they fall in love.

Would appeal to: Aimee Bender & Miranda July fans.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Publisher/Year: Scribner, 2003 (Originally published in 1925)
Format: Paperback
Pages: 216
Source: Purchase

What it is: Nick Carraway moves into a modest little house along the Long Island Sound for the summer and gets drawn in by his mysterious next-door neighbor, a self-made millionaire named Jay Gatsby who’s known for his lavish parties. Meanwhile, Gatsby is madly in love with Nick’s cousin, Daisy Buchanan; the two have a history together. Daisy is already married, but Gatsby hopes his newfound wealth and dazzling success will be enough to win her back.

Why I read it: It’s been on my shelves forever and I never had to read it in high school, making me feel like one of the few people on Earth who had never read the book. Basically, I wanted to get to it before I saw Luhrmann’s movie.

What I thought: Meh. I know this is terrible, but this is one of those rare occasions where I liked the movie better (and why not dig myself deeper: I also think the cover is fugly). I know it’s a classic, plus green light symbolism and contemporarily-relevant themes and blah blah blah, but…*shrug*.

If you’re a fan, you might also like: The Great Lenore by J.M. Tohline, which draws inspiration from The Great Gatsby. I read it last year before having read Gatsby, and in retrospect, I appreciate elements of The Great Lenore much more now that I have a better frame of reference for it. (Also in retrospect? I like Lenore more than Gatsby. So there.)

The Alley of Love and Yellow Jasmines recounts Aghdashloo’s life growing up in pre-revolution Tehran (the title is a reference to this happier time and remains a symbol of her hope for a free Iran). Although “Shohreh” means “famous” in Farsi, her parents wanted her to be anything but: acting wasn’t considered an appropriate career for a young woman of her affluent upbringing, and she was expected to become a doctor. Still, she knew she wanted to be an actress ever since she was a child. Though her parents expressly forbid her from pursuing an acting career, her first husband, Aydin Aghdashloo, a worldly and forward-thinking artist, was supportive of her acting aspirations. They were a perfect match for each other, and both of their careers took off.

Then, in 1978, the Islamic Revolution began. Artists, actors, students, and educators were all disappearing or being taken in for questioning under the new regime, but her husband loved Iran and refused to leave. As someone who vocally opposed what was happening to her country, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Shohreh needed to leave; to stay would mean putting her husband, family, and friends in danger. She made the difficult decision to leave her husband behind in Iran and escaped to Europe, then eventually made her way to the United States to try making it in Hollywood.

One of the things I liked most is how she close she’s always stayed to her cultural roots. After arriving in the United States, she began hosting a radio show spoken in Farsi, and since she was already a known actress in Iran before the revolution, she was able to provide her fellow Iranian immigrants with some kind of connection to home. The same could be said of the plays she stages with her second husband, Houshang; the plays they produce are in Farsi and deal with topics that resonate with the Iranian immigrant experience. And, of course, there are her film roles. She takes great pride in being the first Iranian to be nominated for an Academy Award and talks about how frustrating it is that people from the Middle East are often typecast in stereotypical terrorist roles. She refers to her recurring role on the television show 24, in which she did play a terrorist, but discusses her reasoning for agreeing to play that character: she saw her as a complex, well-developed, strong woman rather than a stereotype.

Surprisingly (and refreshingly), only a few of chapters in The Alley of Love and Yellow Jasmines are about Aghdashloo’s Hollywood career; most of it is about the journey she traveled to get there. I know I say this as a fan, but I really enjoyed this mesmerizing memoir. It’s so easy to be pulled into Aghdashloo’s remarkable life story.

The Alley of Love and Yellow Jasmines was released today by Harper Books, an imprint of HarperCollins.

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I read it as a(n): ARC
Source: Publisher
Pages: 288

I’m just going to come right out and say it: I loved this book. Loved the colorful artwork, loved the writing, loved the recipes, loved it all! Knisley writes about food — everything from McDonald’s to $250 prix fixe dinners — in a humorous and down-to-earth way. What really holds it together is the book’s heart: you can tell that she loves everything she’s writing about and wants you to love it, too.

Another thing that really shines through is Knisley’s relationship with her parents, especially her mother. Her parents divorced when she was young; her father stayed in Manhattan, while she and her mother moved to upstate New York to start over in the Catskills. There her mother truly thrived, planting her own garden, raising chickens, and working with local farmers while running a catering business. By her side the whole time was Lucy, learning the ropes of country life and developing a more organic relationship with food and food production. Meanwhile, visits to Manhattan and trips abroad with her father exposed her to the other side of food since he loved fine dining. It’s about as well-rounded a food education as one could ever hope for.

Ending almost every chapter is quite possibly the coolest presentation of recipes I’ve ever seen. Below is an example of Knisley’s recipe for huevos rancheros (click to enlarge):

Foodies won’t want to miss reading about Knisley’s enviable food journey. It’s impossible not to be utterly charmed by Relish, and I know I’ll happily be revisiting it in the future.

Relish: My Life in the Kitchen was published on April 2, 2013 by First Second Books, an imprint of Roaring Brook Press.

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I read it as a(n): Paperback
Source: Library
Pages: 176
Weekend Cooking is hosted by Beth Fish Reads.

The book then breaks off into a nonlinear format, jumping back and forth from past to present as it follows the circle of people who have been affected by this decision: Abdullah and Pari; their father, Saboor, who can’t seem to fully love his children following his first wife’s death; their stepuncle, Nabi, who arranged the sale; their stepmother, Parwana, who lives with the burden of past decisions but cannot love Abdullah and Pari as her own children; Mr. and Mrs. Wahdati, Pari’s adoptive parents; Iqbal, Abdullah and Pari’s stepbrother; and Dr. Markos Varvaris, a Greek plastic surgeon working with an NGO in present-day Kabul. It’s not always immediately clear who these people are or why they play such a prominent role in the story, but all of them are somehow linked to that fateful day in 1952.

And the Mountains Echoed is similar to Hosseini’s previous novels in ways his fans are probably familiar with. There’s a strong focus on Afghan family bonds and the plot has transnational aspects, branching out from Afghanistan to areas like France, the United States, and Greece. The book is also written in the grand traditions of storytelling that people love Hosseini for. But this time around, Hosseini also embraced a method of storytelling that I was delighted to see him use: open endings. Vignette-like subplots pick up and drop off throughout the book. Some may find this aspect of the book disjointed, but I loved it because it was more realistic. Since the book is about a family that is torn apart, first by that one decision, but then also by time and dislocation and war, it makes sense that some stories will be lost or intentionally kept secret.

The book is engrossing, bittersweet, and ultimately hopeful. It’s a must-read for Hosseini fans and people who love multigenerational family sagas.

And the Mountains Echoed was released on May 21, 2013 by Riverhead Books, an imprint of Penguin. 

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I read it as a(n): Hardcover
Source: Library
Pages: 404

Published in 1997, Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire is a collection of essays and interviews from Asian American activists. Many express their frustrations with white feminism (the mainstream feminism most people are familiar with), and some reject the feminist label altogether. Several of the authors also express frustration at people’s reactions to the Asian American feminist movement: within their own cultures, claiming oneself as “feminist” can be seen as unfeminine and offensive. In society in general, some have trouble even wrapping their heads around the concept of “Asian American feminism;” the term just seems so incompatible with stereotypes of Asian women. However, as all of the authors prove, feminist activism has been around a long time in the Asian community, and the Asian American feminist movement continues to grow.

The book is split into four parts: Strategies and Visions; An Agenda for Change; Global Perspectives; and Awakening to Power. Regardless of the theme of each section, there is definite overlap in the essays. The Asian American feminism that all of these activists speak of has a global aspect; yes, these women are based in the U.S., but because so much of their work focuses on issues related to immigration and labor rights, an awareness of different cultures and issues is necessary.

They also discuss their frustrations within their respective Asian communities. Just like the African American and Latin@ American communities can’t be seen as a monolith, neither can the Asian American community. There’s a sense that, yes, they are all Asian and share some of the same histories and cultural values. But there’s also the possibility of specific identities getting ignored when everyone gets lumped together; some South Asian activists, for instance, expressed frustration at their identities not even registering as “Asian” to some people, who tend to think of “Asian” as Chinese or Japanese. Other activists spoke of their causes being rendered less visible by their respective communities because they didn’t want their “negative” aspects (such as LGBTQ and HIV activism) to reflect on the larger community as a whole.

A common sentiment in several of the essays was the frustration with the mainstream feminist movement. One of my favorite chapters, “On Asian America, Feminism, and Agenda-Making: A Roundtable Discussion” explored some of these issues and Asian Americans’ reticence to identify as feminists. Pamela Chiang states,

Personally, I feel that a lot of the agenda has been a white, middle-class one. I’m one of the young people here; my generation of coming into this is different, but my personal experience is that their agenda is a little off from what poor women and women of color face….When I organized with Latina garment workers from Texas, we would approach these national institutions for support. With a little bit of effort, they would wax and wane. But they don’t speak to our issues.

Helen Zia responds:

[T]here is a real problem of white privilege and racism that exist in the women’s organizations that are predominantly white. An “old girls” network has evolved. All of us who have worked in coalitions or within programs where the leadership is dominated by white women have encountered it. I’ve worked within one of the publications that is identified as part of the mainstream white women’s movement [Ms. Magazine]. Trying to get other races and classes represented within the pages of the magazine took a consistent and conscious struggle.

Later in the book, Grace Chang’s “The Global Trade in Filipina Workers” also discusses the ways mainstream feminism has thrown Asian feminism under the bus:

Mainstream U.S. feminist responses to the trade in women have been lukewarm at best. When [the Gabriela Network] called on women’s organizations around the world to put the issue of global trafficking of women on their agendas, the National Organization for Women (NOW) declined to do so, saying that it does not deal with international issues. The real issue may be that privileged women of the First World, even self-avowed feminists, are some of the primary consumers and beneficiaries of this trade. Middle- and upper-class professional women generally have not joined efforts to improve wages or conditions for care workers in the United States, since they have historically relied on the “affordability” of women of color and migrant women in their homes, daycare centers, and nursing homes.

The activists featured in this collection have figured out culturally relevant ways to help their communities where mainstream feminism has failed (or has outright ignored). They’re working hard to destigmatize “private” or “shameful” topics like domestic violence and health education using methods that the people in their community can find empowering. My only regret is the age of the book; it’s now out of print, the statistics are no longer current, and unfortunately, it was published just before the internet revolution really took off. I know the latter point has nothing to do with content, but I would have loved to see how (or if) technology has affected their activism. Since they were already doing amazing work in terms of global feminism, it would be interesting to see how technology has facilitated their networking and outreach.

Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire was originally released in 1997 by South End Press and reprinted in 1999.

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I read it as a(n): Paperback
Source: Library
Pages: 241

Akhmed inadvertently makes a choice that will change everyone’s lives. His reasoning is initially unclear, but he decides that Havaa will be safe at the hospital in a nearby city. He knows of a skilled female surgeon there — unheard of in their culture — and he’s sure that if he can just get Havaa there, she’ll be safe. The reality of the situation is quite different. He does indeed encounter that female surgeon, Sonja, but she’s cold and arrogant. She’s the only doctor in the entire hospital; aside from her assistant and the security guard, everyone else fled years ago. The last thing she needs is a child running around. Still, by offering to help at the hospital, Akhmed manages to get her to agree.

Though the book technically only spans five days, it actually jumps back and forth from 1994 – 2004. Marra has created a complex web of relationships that extends far beyond their current situation; events that happened years ago set off numerous chain reactions that are finally manifesting themselves all these years later.  Even secondary characters who have never met are somehow connected: Sonja’s beautiful and traumatized younger sister, Natasha; Ramzan, the village informant whom everyone shuns; Ramzan’s lonely father, Khassan, who must also bear the stigma of his son’s actions; and Dokka, Havaa’s father. So much is shrouded by loss, violence, and mystery.

People come and go, and in a country suffering through two back-to-back wars and the sudden disappearances of loved ones, everyone is haunted by something. Marra captures all of it with achingly beautiful prose:

Sonja stood and walked to the flat, afraid of what she might bear next. At the kitchen table she examined the glass of ice. Each cube was rounded by room temperature, dissolving in its own remains, and belatedly she understood that this was how a loved one disappeared. Despite the shock of walking into an empty flat, the absence wasn’t immediate, more a fade from the present tense you shared, a melting into the past, not an erasure but a conversion in form, from presence to memory, from solid to liquid, and the person you once touched now runs over your skin, now in sheets down your back, and you may bathe, may sink, may drown in the memory, but your fingers cannot hold it.

The whole book is exquisitely written, and despite all of the horrors the wars have created, the characters cling to shreds of hope to get them through their traumas. It’s an absorbing and heartbreaking reading experience.

A Constellation of Vital Phenomena was published on May 7, 2013 by Hogarth, an imprint of The Crown Publishing Group. This book is on tour right now, so check out what other bloggers are saying about it.

Goodreads | Amazon
I read it as a(n): Hardcover
Source: Publisher
Pages: 400

Win a copy of this book! To enter, fill out the form below by May 30, 2013 at 11:59 p.m. CT (US & Canada only). Good luck!