Kelsey first read Pride and Prejudice and Epic Fail immediately afterward.  We went to a special mother-daughter lunch to compare the books and how one reflected on the other.  Interested in nudging a teenager to read a classic?  Pairing these two together, and throwing in a bribe of a special lunch date, is a perfect enticement.

Learn more about Epic Fail by following the blog tour:

Monday, July 25: Sit Here and Read

Tuesday, July 26: Flippin Pages for All Ages

Wednesday, July 27: Books Complete Me

Thursday, July 28: Alison Can Read

Friday, July 29: Mundie Moms

Monday, August 1: CA Marshall

Go Buy the Book Day!  Tuesday, August 2: Alison Can Read

Wednesday, August 3: Only Sexy Books Allowed

Friday, August 5: A Good Addiction

The book looks at six decisive moments in the American Revolution including a dinner party during which the location of the capitol was decided (it’s intentional that our financial center and our political center are separate), the Hamilton Burr duel (juicy with an academic nuance), Washington’s Farewell Address (under Ellis’ pen George doesn’t appear quite so dry), and the friendship between Adams and Jefferson.  After reading the book, I’ll never forget that they both died on July 4th, within hours of one another; that’s a relationship deeply entwined with each other and the nation they created.

By providing these six vignettes, Ellis’ book is a lighter read than a slog through a chronological history, but it’s packed with information.   I have a renewed appreciation for Adams (I can’t wait to read Ellis’ latest book about John and  Abigail) and an understanding that there is nothing new about our current contentious political atmosphere, it is inherent in our system.  This is history that comes up all the time in conversation.  The roots of our financial system go back to Jefferson and Madison.  The underlying issues in race relations are foundational in our system from the time of the Constitution, everyone was well aware of the issue and knew that it was being foisted on future generations.  Ellis argues that slavery was the sacrifice to ensure a Constitution and a nation.  Every time I’m in DC I think about the dinner party that decided that our nation would be lead from the middle.

Founding Brothers is a history book that is a joy to read and one that I’ve recalled over and over again.  Read it and let me know what you think.

And if you’re up a dramatic reading of the Declaration of Independence, check out this version with several stars including Whoopi Goldberg, Michael Douglas, Kathy Bates and Mel Gibson, it never sounded so good!

Naming things is always implicitly categorizing and therefore collecting them, attempting to own them; and because man is a highly acquisitive creature, brainwashed by most modern societies into believing that the act of acquisition is more enjoyable than the fact of having acquired, that getting beats having got, mere names and the objects they are tied to soon become stale. . . But we are far better at seeing the immediate advantages of such gains in knowledge of the exterior world than at assessing the cost of them.  The particular cost of understanding the mechanism of nature, of having so successfully itemized and pigeon-holed it, lies most of all in the ordinary person’s perception of it, in his or her ability to live with and care for it–and not see it as challenge, defiance, enemy.

In fact, Fowles beautifully argues that we will truly conserve nature when we stop evaluating it for its purpose.  Learning about nature can feel like a discourse rather than an experience.  Our interaction is too heavily weighted to knowledge at the sacrifice of understanding.  Even nature films can be a disservice because the wonder of wild places is muted by knowledge divorced from experience.  Fowles yearns for the eighteenth century approach of viewing “nature as a mirror for philosophers, as an evoker of emotion, as a pleasure, a poem.”  Nature that is experienced not just mentally but as an “entire human being.”

Fowles finds a similar parrallel in art.  He describes the artist’s self-expression and self-discovery as the deepest benefit of art.  Yet, as with nature, art is parcelled, labeled, and analysized in a vocabulary similar to science.  He sees the paradox of this “knowing-naming technique” being applied to a non-scientific object that even the artist (the actual creator) would find difficult to articulate.

Fowles attributes his writing process to the hours of solitary exploration meandering in the local woods.  His story development doesn’t evolve from an clearly defined outline, but a messy wandering along a narrative.  One topic that kept reoccurring in my mind as I read the essay was fear, as I envisioned myself ambling through a wood I felt vulnerable.  Fowles delineates the history of the danger myth, much of which has to do with a need to control society and associating wilderness with a wild nature.  He advocates turning that on its head, that the way to save nature is stop viewing it as detached from ourselves, to see it as interwoven in our lives as part of the human existence.

Fowles argues that the meaningful human experiences with nature and art are ultimately indescribable.  Nevertheless, he ends the essay relaying an experience in an old growth forest, Wistman’s Wood.  Fowles writing was beautiful as he painted the trees and his walk, I felt he walked into another magical world.  Almost beyond words, Fowles gave me a glimpse of the majesty and wonder of his experience.

Fowles essay doesn’t state facts or figures, it creates a love of and desire to experience nature far beyond trail descriptions and bird lists.  Reading The Tree is a wonderful way to commemorate Earth Day.

Grossman’s book To the End of the Land kept me on the verge of tears.  What made the book universal for me was a mother letting go of her son.  The theme of saying goodbye was heart-wrenching.    I don’t have to send a son I’ve raised with empathy and care into a war zone at age eighteen, but I do have a son leaving for college in 17 months and life will not be the same.  Our relationship will change, my role will be different.  There will be joy and loss in that process.  Reading To the End of the Land stirred the grieving that accompanies this transition.

Grossman’s characters live with a constant sense of the fragility of life.  Another universalism, that we could all get hit by the proverbial bus tomorrow, feels heightened in Grossman’s Israel.  The randomness of pulling a name out of a hat, the name picked is tortured by Arabs, the one not is tortured by guilt.  Whether or not the bus you’re riding on will be bombed, or the one passing you in cross traffic.  The fear of both sons partying at the same bar because it could be the one a suicide bomber visits that night.  Americans don’t live with that same day-to-day fear.  Not only do the characters, and presumably Israelis, live with the underlying fear of random death, there is a sense that the nation could cease to exist:

“Look at them,” Avram had said to her once, in one of their drives around the streets of Tel Aviv after he got back.  ”Look at them.  They walk down the street, they talk, they shout, read newspapers, go to the grocery store, sit in cafes”–he went on for several minutes describing everything they saw through the car window–”but why do I keep thinking it’s all one big act?  That it’s all to convince themselves that this place is truly real?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Ora had said.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think that Americans or the French have to believe so hard all the time just to make America exist.  Or France, or England.”

I grew up in a world where Israel existed, it never occurred to me that a country, especially an ally, could disappear until I attended a lecture a few years ago given by an Israeli political scientist.  The room was filled with about 200 senior citizens, mostly Jewish.  The lecturer asked how many people thought Israel would not survive and a significant majority raised their hands.  As the discussion progressed, it became clear that many believed the state of Israel was a phase; it was not permanent.  I thought of that room when I read the above passage.  The conscious effort to make Israel real is strikingly different from the unarticulated fundamental belief that the United States is permanent.

I wonder if this fear and mindset heightens the sense of life in Israel.  If so, I didn’t get that impression from Grossman’s book.  The richness of family life is well relayed, but not an exuberance.  Grossman’s main characters are very insular.  My primary criticism of this wonderful book is that the characters sometimes felt flat.  I don’t think it’s because of it being translated, I believe it is a result of the private world Grossman creates for them.  Ora, Ilan and Avram bond in the hospital when Israel is under attack, in a fever, in the dark.  There are only the three of them for the first section of the book, the lone Arab nurse is down the hall.  The balance of the book permeates with a world limited by this character triangle.  It is expanded by the the birth of Adam and Ofer but always feels in reference to just the three of them.  Never seeing Ora outside of these relationships, never with a girlfriend or at work, left me feeling like she was a conduit the author used to stir emotions in me rather than a fully realized character.

Grossman leads the reader on a thought-provoking journey filled with emotion.  This isn’t a fast read, it’s paced to match the walk.  It’s a trip I’m willing to take over and over again.

It seems a little late to go into last year, but I noticed on my twitter feed the question ‘what was the best book you read in 2010′ still popped up today.  It’s a question I’ve answered differently the last few weeks.  One would think that the term “best” would mean only one, but such a person doesn’t live with an adolescent daughter who names multiple best friends. For me, it’s a toss up between two books, Room by Emma Donoghue and The Children’s Book by A.S. Byatt.

Room makes it into the lightening round as a uniquely written book.  Donoghue perfectly created a world and kept the reader within a very restricted point of view.  The author carefully fiddled with the English language and subtly gave new meaning to everyday words.  The story matches the level of writing.  Ma is my new heroine.  I’ve heard mothers say they’re sure they would have done the same thing.  I’m not so sure, really not, I’d like to think so but I plan on never finding out.  Most importantly, I’ve spent far more time thinking about the book than it took to read it.  (I can probably count on my body parts how many times I’ve thought that about a book.)   It’s a quick read packed with questions about our society and lifestyle.  Why do we blame the victim?  Is TV junk for our brains?  We talk about what is important, but does how we allot our time reflect our values?  The book is a jewel that surpasses all my criteria:  beautifully written, solid story, great ending, and thought provoking.

If Room feels like something new, The Children’s Book is a model of the well crafted family saga.  Byatt’s writing is lyrical.  The main character is a children’s book author and the tone throughout draws the reader in like a fairy tale.  This book is what it describes, but much more.  The literary, historical and art references interwoven into the story weren’t just side notes, they were fully incorporated and moved the story forward.  In my opinion, Byatt took the family saga genre to a whole new level.  It is a 21st century modern Dickensian novel.

I’ve thought a bit about trying to decide between the two.  I found that when I answered a twitter or Facebook question about my favorite book, if I picked one over the other my last decision wasn’t intellectual, it was emotional.  I read 65 books last year (low for me, but in fact my 2011 goal maybe to read less books rather than more).  Deciding the top two was an intellectual exercise, mostly described above.  But, the times when I picked Room as the best book seemed to be when I was running around and active, the book charges me.  When I shot off a message answering The Children’s Book, it was when I was craving cozy.  The Children’s Book is highly thought provoking, but it isn’t really upsetting or jarring, it’s a fabulous curl up on the couch and read.

How did you choose your favorite book of 2010?  Was there one stand out or a close match?  If it was close, what tips the balance?

Today I decided not to choose.  When Vroman’s sent out a tweet asking for my favorite book, I answered both.  Maybe that’s a good new year’s resolution, I choose not to choose.

Kelsey’s most beautifully wrapped present under the tree this year will be Prudent Advice with my comments written through out.  Where I agree with Jaime, such as item #7 “Make time for the art museum in every city you visit” or #21 “Pay attention to politics” I’ve scribbled “Completely agree” or “this author is a genius” or added a line of exclamation points.  Other places Jaime and I diverge, for #4 “When given the opportunity, wear a costume,” I wrote “couldn’t disagree more, if it’s a costume party, RSVP no.”  For the advice about dogs, I added “a dog will always be happy when you come home, teenagers, not so much.”  For other entries I wrote about her attributes, that she’s a great hugger or what colors her eyes look best with.  There are some places where I admitted I fell short and she should do better than me (writing thank you notes was one example).  I weave in family history, that I sang “Jesus Loves Me” to her every night when she was a baby or a reference to the subway train she didn’t want to rush to.  The author includes a few recipes, I’ll write in a couple of our family favorites on the back cover.

My daughter is 13 years old and I’m not sure how much more she really wants to hear my voice right now.  It occurs to me that this gift may be most valuable after I’m gone, but I’ve always been one who planned ahead.

It takes some time to complete this gift, I’m not through the book but I should make it for Christmas, or her birthday, or sweet sixteen, or graduation (middle school, high school or college).  There’s time.  For a picture of a section I’ve completed, click to the jump page.

The Green Books Campaign

This review is part of the Green Books campaign.Today 200 bloggers take a stand to support books printed in an eco-friendly manner by simultaneously publishing reviews of 200 books printed on recycled or FSC-certified paper. By turning a spotlight on books printed using eco- friendly paper, we hope to raise the awareness of book buyers and encourage everyone to take the environment into consideration when purchasing books.

The campaign is organized for the second time by Eco-Libris, a green company working to make reading more sustainable. We invite you to join the discussion on “green” books and support books printed in an eco-friendly manner! A full list of participating blogs and links to their reviews is available on Eco-Libris website.

Season of Suffering-Coming of Age in Occupied France by Nicole H. Taflinger

Since this is Green Book Campaign Day, it’s appropriate to note that Washington State University Press published Season of Suffering on pH neutral, acid-free paper.  Taflinger’s memoir is perfect for a university press because it is more a memory document than a contemporary juicy tell-all.  It reads like a transcribed interview without the questions.  I picked this book because I have thought repeatedly about Nemirovsky’s telling of the German occupation of France in Suite Francaise.  Season of Suffering would be the type of book Nemirovsky, or any other author, could use as source material for a novel.

While there isn’t a story arc in the book apart from the dramatic historic events, Taflinger’s life experience is important.  Taflinger’s family wasn’t Jewish or bombed, it was an ordinary French Catholic family.  What was life like for ordinary non-Jewish French citizens?  Was there enough food?  Who was brave and who were collaborators?  (This was a question that frequently wasn’t answered until after the war.)  What did the citizens of Nancy know of the world outside their town?  Taflinger described a life of little food where electricity, coal, wood were all scarce and unreliable.

I found the period right after the occupation interesting.  Her father was a POW the entire war and the years of listening to German propaganda ruined him.  He returned more pro-German than pro-American or  Allied forces.  Despite being sent to a farm as slave labor for years, he walked home refusing all offers of assistance from American officers.  He believed his wife and child had an enjoyable life with German boyfriends while he was gone.  American readers have an awareness of PTSD and brainwashing from our own soldiers returning home from our current wars, this was a view of the WWII European experience. Reading Taflinger’s worry over her father’s life during the entire war, then the joy in seeing him alive, immediately followed by the shock of who he became was a heartbreaking aspect of the book.

Taflinger married an American officer, the first pilot to land in Nancy, a scene she describes vividly even including the size of his feet.  She relayed the populations mixed feelings about the Americans.  They were certainly heroic liberators initially greeted with hugs and kisses, but they also were dangerous.  She said no woman ever feared being raped by the German soldiers, but women could not safely walk alone while the Americans were in town, incidents of rape and overall bad behavior were too common.

Season of Suffering documents an important aspect of German occupation that will be useful for all of us who only experience it through history and novels.

Interested in reading Season of Suffering yourself?  Leave a comment with your e-mail by Sunday, November 28 at 11PM and I’ll pick one winner.

10 Activities for the Green Reader

Want to incorporate your green lifestyle with your reading habits?  Eco-Libris has 10 suggestions:

1. Check the reviews of books on the campaign’s list that look interesting to you and add your comments to their reviews.
2. Tweet the campaign (you can also follow it on twitter).
3. Post it in your Facebook status update and join the conversation on the campaign’s Facebook page.
4. Learn more about the green agenda of some of the participating publishers on Eco-Libris blog.
5. Update your green and lit LinkedIn groups about the campaign.
6. Find a book on the campaign’s list that you already read and loved? Write a review on Amazon mentioning the green aspect of the book.
7. Post it on literary websites and social networks, like BookMooch,Goodreads, LibraryThing, BookRabbit and others.
8. Check out the unique search feature of Indigo Books & Music that enables you to identify books that are printed on recycled or FSC-certified paper.
9. Learn more why it is important to print books on eco-friendly paper by visiting the campaign’s resources page
10. See a book on the campaign’s list that you would like to read? Buy it for yourself or as a green gift to someone you care about. You’re also invited to look for it on your local library!

Once and Future King by T.H. White – This is one of Claire’s favorite books and when I decided we would travel through the region of Arthurian legends, I knew it was time to read it.  I’m not a huge fantasy reader (love C.S. Lewis and Tolkien, but who doesn’t), yet I enjoy the Arthurian legend with all those handsome knights dashing around.  White’s take is deservedly one of the best for combining adventure with moral challenges and decisions, it is definitely my kind of fantasy.  Plus, I liked the mental torture of envisioning how Merlin lived backwards.

The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart – When I read this series 20 years ago, I raced home from work, grabbed dinner, and spent the entire evening reading.  This time, I revisited the Arthur tales with Once and Future King and passed Stewart’s tale to my husband and daughter.  Keith loved The Crystal Cave and went on to read the entire series.  Kelsey kept asking “when is Arthur going to show up?”   At which point I remembered that this telling was from the Merlin angle, that Once and Future King is largely about Lancelot, and The Mists of Avalon about Morgan Le Fey.  Who writes from Arthur’s point of view?  After reading about the legends, we all got a kick out of standing in silence (required) around the well in which Arthur dropped the chalice.

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Sussana Clarke – Staying in the fantasy genre with some historical fiction thrown in (think British magic meets the Napoleonic wars), I enticed Kyle with Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell.  While he liked the book and was able to add historical tidbits when walking around London, he thought it was unnecessarily long.  My husband picked it up about halfway through the trip and realized at about page 200 that he liked it, but not enough to read another 400 pages.  If you love delving into a long book, my impression is that this one is great company for an overseas flight.  (Recommended by Idlewild Books)

Un Lun Dun by China Mielville- a fantasy book for Kelsey recommended by Idlewild Books, she read it multiple times.  Set in present day London, a different world is discovered by the heroine.

Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson – We have a family of Bryson fans, all lead by Kyle, and when I found a book about Bryson’s travel around Great Britain at Idlewild Books, I knew it would be a hit.  Little did I realize how much laughter it would add to our trip.  Both Kyle and Kelsey read the book in the backseat of our little rented car and we would hear bursts of gut splitting laughter.  As we traveled through some of the areas Bryson visited, the kids found the appropriate page and read what he wrote.  There is a mining city in Wales that I laughed all the way through.

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith – a crossover YA book, I bought it for Kelsey and me.  Kelsey tried reading it several times, but it didn’t interest her.  Initially written in 1948 and recently republished, it isn’t the typical plot driven YA book.  It has an aura of romance and a clash of American and British youth, but the plot builds relatively quietly.  I enjoyed it but understood how today’s younger YA reader expects a book to move faster.  (Recommended by Between the Covers)

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen – We spent a couple of days in Bath and I couldn’t imagine visiting there and not knowing its Austen heritage.  I gave my husband  Northanger Abbey and possibly I should have remembered that it is Claire’s least favorite Austen.  He finished it, grumbling.  I’m not sure if he’ll ever read an Austen book again.  I did ask if he understood 18th century Bath better because of the book, were the Pump Room lunch or the walking the promenade enliven by the book?  I think his response was something along the line that Northanger Abbey kills more than it enlivens.  That being said, I love the book and felt I was walking around the city in Jane’s footsteps.

I read a slew of realistic novels that contained social commentary and/or an inside view of British life.  If I were to do it over again, I’d read them in the following order, that is date order by subject matter:

Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence – 19th century novel about a mining family, it’s a modern novel that reads like chick-lit.  The setting is central England, areas we drove through (mostly lost), but added a lot to the mining areas we explored in Wales.  Not an easy life, yet somehow better than I anticipated driving around the areas.  The mother is a character I still think about months after reading the book.

The Children’s Book by A. S. Byatt – A look at the writers, artisans and thinkers of pre-World War I British society.  This is one of my favorite books in the last year.  It explores the growth of political and literary thought while showing a world that ended with the Great War.  A must to read if you plan on visiting the V&A.

The Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh – Picking up in time where Byatt left off, Brideshead reveals the crumbling of the old landed gentry in English society.  I read it while staying outside York in a country home, it couldn’t have been more perfect.  I expected Julia, Sebastian and Lady Marchmain to show up for dinner every evening.

Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst – Using Waugh’s technique of writing from the point of view of an outsider school friend joining an upper class family, this time the reader gets an insider view of Margaret Thatcher’s England.  It some ways it felt stranger to read about a society that existed(es) within my lifetime, yet has the feel of being so out of touch.  Maybe one person’s ‘out of touch’ is another person’s  ’traditional.’

Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simpson – such a lovely look a English village life set in present day England.  It’s a meeting of traditional and contemporary English society and how to meld the best of each.

Do these recommendations spark any of your own?  Please share them, because really, who needs to wait to travel there to read good English literature?  I’m ready to read more now.

Gin Phillips joined the Cafe Conversation at the Beverly Hills Literary Escape with Ethan Canin, David Ulin and Mona Simpson.  I wondered how she would do as a first time novelist with three authors who have traveled around the book tour block several times.  She more than held her own.  I heard her again at the Saturday historical fiction lunch with Tatjana Soli.  Here are a few of her comments:

• Economic Similarity? Many consider the book timely (even before the Chilean miner crisis) because it is set in and was published during severe economic downturns. Phillips understands the connections people are making but described a much more frightening world in 1931.  The society her characters live in do not have a safety net.  There isn’t Social Security, disability, or Medicare.  If a miner was hurt or disabled the family was facing an abyss of suffering, many were quickly homeless and starved to death.  Occasionally the community could help, but the community couldn’t provide long term assistance.  Moreover, there wasn’t even a minimum wage or a limit on the number of hours in a working day.  Canin quipped “I saw a bumper sticker recently that said “Unions, the people who brought you weekends.”  Her characters lived in a much harsher world.
• Racism.  The mines were the only place in Alabama where black and white men worked together.  Segregation was so strong that the two races rarely mixed which resulted in each race believing the stereotype of the other.  Working together complicated these racist opinions.  Phillips found from her own reading that frequently the South is depicted as a vast lynching ground under Jim Crow laws, or a character shows up akin to a modern day Bill Clinton.  Neither is realistic.  Phillips wanted to portray ordinary people reacting to the evil inherent in racism.
• Mine Life. Phillips’ family originates from small town Alabama, but they were not miners.  Phillips felt she had an understanding of the culture and the era.  Leta, the mother character, is based on the author’s own great-grandmother.  Phillips described her as loving, kind and practical.  She cared for others but didn’t have time to talk about it.  She would find it silly to discuss romance and feelings when there was land to farm, animals to feed and meals to cook.  Phillips needed to research mining life extensively.  She worried that a 100 year old miner would show up at a reading and say she told the story wrong; however, she quickly realized that 100 year old miners don’t attend book readings.  She hasn’t received any complaints, just many reports from people about how her book sparked a memory because it rang true.
• The Baby in the Well. She wanted to write about something that appeared to be irredeemably evil and then see what happened.  My mother asked how she came up with the ending.  Phillips admitted that the woman didn’t show up until she was about halfway through writing the book and she is so grateful that she did!

I loved this book, if you haven’t read it, go get it now.

What better way to kick off the Beverly Hills Literary Escape than a cozy conversation with Abraham Verghese, the author of Cutting for Stone? Verghese genuine interest in discussing his book and medical practice left everyone spellbound.  Here are some highlights:

• A Wandering Writer. Verghese wrote Cutting for Stone over a seven year period, a little bit every day.  He told me before the talk that he believes in the process of building one piece at a time.  He started with a mental picture of a nun in an operating room having a baby.  That was already shocking, yet he upped the drama by giving her twins.  He doesn’t write from an outline, but through experimentation.  That’s how he came upon Marion’s voice as the narrator, moving fairly seamlessly into, then out of, and then into again, first person.  He worked to combine the intimacy of first person with the omniscient knowledge of third person.  His model was the opening scene of The Tin Drum when the grandson tells how his grandmother was impregnated, but how would he have have known? [An excerpt of just this scene is in Wherever I Lie is Your Bed.]  About three quarters or approximately five years into the book, Verghese’s editor said it was time to end the experimenting and find the conclusion.  There were too many options and Verghese needed to narrow in on where the book was going.  In a state of anxiety, he flew to New York and free associated with his editor until he mapped out the remainder of the novel.
• Size Matters. Initially, Sister Mary Joseph Praise’s story was to return at the end of the book with few hundred pages of text.  However, the author noticed that when people in bookstores pick up a long, large book, they tend to put it back.  He felt size matters and if a book is too long, it can discourage people from buying it.  I look at long books and think it’s more likely than not that the book needed a stronger editor.  I affirm his choice, this ending works.
• Shiva. He didn’t want to give Shiva a clinical diagnosis, but as the reader suspects, Shiva has Asberger’s Syndrome.  At one point Verghese’s editor said “I can’t really see Shiva,” and he answered “precisely.”
• Inquiring Minds Want to Know, What Does the Title Mean? His goal was for the title to be a bit mysterious, I’d say he accomplished it.  My mother read the book first and asked me as I was reading it, do you get the title?  My first thought went to sculpture, cutting marble/stone for a statute, so I kept looking for art references.  Don’t go that route, it took me nowhere.  Verghese explained that there is a line in the Hippocratic Oath that a doctor promises not to cut for stone.  In the olden days, people suffered from bladder/gallbladder/kidney stones that caused extreme pain and ultimately death.  Charlatans wandered the countryside cutting the stones out bringing immediate relief but also death from a hacked and germ infested procedure.  New doctors still promise to not perform these operations.  It’s a phrase that resonated with the author whenever he repeated the oath.  Cutting for Stone was always the title of the book.  The characters’ last names were initially Pickering until it occurred to Verghese that naming them Stone tied the title to the book.  He wonders if maybe the title was a little too mysterious.  Hmmm, maybe.
• Reading. Verghese sees little difference between practicing medicine (which he does at Stanford) and writing, they stress observation of and curiosity about  humans and their stories.  Verghese tells his medical students, “If you aren’t reading novels, the imagination part of your brain will atrophy.” Of Human Bondage directed Verghese to medicine.  The main character, Philip, failed as an artist but viewed medicine as an opportunity to see humanity “in the rough.” Verghese felt that a few may have the natural talent to be an artist, but if one worked hard enough, a person could be a good doctor and that’s what he set out to become.
• iPatient.  Verghese is still a practicing physician (the book doesn’t refer to him Dr. Verghese, I’m following that example).  [The New York Times ran article today about his practice, educational history and medical philosophy.] He discussed his concern that physicians are treating an iPatient, a person in a computer who gets all kinds of tests that dictate a variety of treatments, with little human contact.  The real patient doesn’t know what’s  happening.  Verghese described the difference between healing and curing.  Take a non-medical example, a person who is robbed feels violated even all of her items are returned.  She was healed but not cured.  In his early practice with AIDS patients, he learned that actions such as home visits could help heal a patient even if there isn’t a cure.  He reminded me of his character’s advice about the importance of ‘words of comfort.’
• Ethiopia. Emperor Haile Selassie recruited teachers from the Kerala area of India after he visited there and saw children going to school.  Verghese’s parents went, met after arriving, and married.   Verghese was born there and considered it his country just as Marion did.  However, he had to leave when the Emperor was overthrown.  He described becoming a citizen of the United States as one of the most powerful of his life, yet he feels that he’s an outsider looking in.  He finds it helps with his writing, he sees things that others no longer notice.  Now, when he returns to Ethiopia he feels a sense of sadness over the deterioration of something beautiful.
• Stats from Kindle. Amazon keeps track of what’s highlighted in books, who knew?  The second most highlighted item is the fable of the slippers in Cutting for Stone.  Not a bad choice.

After listening to Verghese speak, it was evident to me that the warmth the reader feels for Ghosh, Marion, and their manner in practicing medicine comes directly from the author.