Book #215: Andrew's Brain

Book #215: Andrew's Brain by E.L. Doctorow

January 16, 2016

This is an example of the kind of unconventional, challenging books that I've been trying to read more of. Andrew's Brain is told in a sort of stream of consciousness style, as Andrew talks about his life (as he remembers it in his own mind, at least) to a psychiatrist (maybe). It's not totally clear where he is, but my theory is that he suffered a nervous breakdown sometime after 9/11 (his young baby momma was killed). He's a scientist who has studied the brain for much of his life, and now his brain is cracked and he's not aware of it.

It's difficult to tell where Andrew is being truthful and where his memory has been warped. The stuff about him being George W. Bush's college roommate and working briefly at the White House seems far fetched. The stuff about his ex-wife and dead girlfriend seem more down to Earth, but again, with his mind so damaged from trauma, who knows what the "truth" is?

Many of the young men I work with have suffered trauma in their lives. We typically have at least one habitual liar on our campus at a time, the kind of kids who claim they've lived through Hurricane Katrina and plane crashes, having a convenient story to match any topic that happens to come up. I've often wondered why these kids feel the need to tell such outlandish lies. Getting inside fictional Andrew's head, so to speak, reminds me how the brain can be damaged even if a person has never suffered physical trauma, like a blow to the head. 

Andrew is convinced that he's cursed. He accidentally caused a fatal car accident when he rode into a street in his sled as a kid. He accidentally killed his first born child when he administered the wrong medicine, a mistake of the pharmacy (though this is a detail that the psychiatrist, whether he's real or only exists in Andrew's mind, questions). He's clumsy at best, a walking catastrophe at his worst. But, unless he intentionally killed his child and his mind isn't allowing him to remember it, he isn't evil or bad. He's a rather unfortunate person.

This book seems to have mixed reviews on Goodreads. While there's a part of me that wants the "truth" about Andrew, I think that's beside the point. We know what Andrew thinks is true, what he thinks he remembers. If he were aware of how damaged he was, what would he say to that? He describes how, in his studies, he's looked at how various stimuli can affect the brain, all its complex signals and functions that translate into thoughts and feelings. For someone like me, who works with teenagers who are more damaged than the average kid, a book like this helps me to remember that each person's experiences affect how his or her mind functions, which stimuli we react to most, that sort of thing. A joke that some of my coworkers have is that, for some of our most damaged kids, it'd be fascinating to get inside their minds and see how it works. Obviously, this is not possible, but Doctorow attempted to do something like that with Andrew here.

Book #214: Dark Places

Book #214: Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

January 13, 2015

This is the second book I've read by Flynn. Unlike her wildly successful Gone Girl, this one (an earlier work, I think) is a bit more conventional as far as how the main character, Libby, goes about solving the mystery. But like Gone Girl, the characters are complex and often despicable. It wasn't quite as satisfying as Flynn's biggest success to date, but it still held my interest all the way through.

I have issues with the development of Libby Day. When she was seven, her mother and two older sisters were murdered, and her older brother was put away in prison for it. Since then, she was angry, fearful, and disconnected. As a grown woman, not much older than myself, she's never held a job and can't even remember to change her bedsheets. She feels entitled to pity and money, because that's all people have ever really given her. But at 31, the pity and the money are running out. When she's offered a few hundred bucks to appear at a convention for murder investigation enthusiasts, she jumps at it...and it changes her whole life.

Her outrage and disbelief about the alternative theories to her family's murders is understandable. She testified against her brother, although she didn't actually see what happened, only heard snatches of shouting and the shotgun blast from her hiding place. Libby was basically made to believe that her brother did it. That belief was, supposedly, deeply ingrained in her. So of course she's upset when people try to say otherwise, and call her a liar.

But her about-face regarding her brother's guilt seemed too swift. After just one interview with Ben, her incarcerated brother, she's more or less determined to know the truth. I feel like this wasn't entirely realistic. At first she only visits Ben and other figures in the mystery for the money from the "Kill Club" and Ben's supporters. But she throws herself into their investigation.

More interesting than Libby's search are the chapters between them. They follow Ben and Patty, their mother, during the hours leading up to the murders. Shit's hitting the fan for the Day family. Patty is so deep in debt that she's about to lose the family farm, and Ben is being accused of molesting little girls at school. He had a friendly relationship with a fifth grader, and one day after school, she kissed him. He got a boner, freaked out, and ran away. I work with legitimate teenage sex offenders; Ben was no sex offender. 

So the day of the murders is tense, presenting several scenarios for who the real killer might be. In the end, the situation is quite a mess, but it all fits. Besides the unrealistic development of Libby's character, I was satisfied with this book. Obviously, it never received even close to the amount of attention as that one other book. It wasn't even on my radar before I read Gone Girl. But Flynn is an exciting author, and being pretty new to the scene and just recently becoming famous, I hope she'll publish more. 

Book #213: The Boys in the Boat

Book #213: The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics by Daniel James Brown

January 3, 2016

I first started to hear about this book in the summer of 2014. Someone was talking about it on the radio; I don't think it was Brown himself, but just a book reviewer or something. This person described the scene in New York, when the soon-to-be 1936 U.S. Olympic eight-man with coxswain rowing crew made an impromptu visit to Hyde Park. Having just read Mrs. Roosevelt's autobiography, this caught my interest. They didn't have the honor of meeting my hero or her husband FDR, but they did have drinks with one of their sons. Anyway, the guy on the radio went on about how good this book is, so when I saw it in the elibrary, I added it to my wish list. But it wasn't available until just recently.

I have always felt that the U.S. and its allies should have boycotted the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Brown describes how the games gave Nazi Germany a great opportunity to hoodwink the world, and to further their propaganda on the supposed superiority of the "Aryan race." But it doesn't diminish the success of the boys from the University of Washington, who individually and as a group overcame many obstacles to gain Olympic glory. 

Brown mostly tells the story of one rower, Joe Rantz, who had it especially rough during his formative years. Depression-era troubles and family drama found him living in his own as a teenager. Working for his own survival, he became tough and strong. By the time he takes home his gold medal, his antagonistic stepmother is dead, he's reunited with his family, and his fiancée is thrilled for him. Rantz was one of the only surviving members of the boat left when Brown started his research, so it makes sense that we'd get so much of his story, but it really is very compelling.

Most of the boys in the boat had their own struggles, and if Brown was able to procure any of their personal documents, they were frequently quoted. Brown also describes George Pocock, the British shell maker set up at Washington, a master of the craft and a crew expert since his earliest years. Pocock is quoted at the beginning of each chapter. I've never known a whole lot about crew, but I get the feeling that Pocock is amongst the legends of the sport.

Albert Ulbrickson, the Washington crew coach, is obviously a central figure as well, but the book doesn't delve much into his life beyond his impact on the sport and the young men he coached. He's kind of a stereotypical stoical type, not even getting overexcited or emotional at the most triumphant of moments. His notes on his strategies are quoted frequently as well, and that's where you see how methodical and driven he was. 

From the descriptions of the races (something I tend not to enjoy in sports literature ir nonfiction, but kept my interest here), that's what it takes to be successful in rowing, methodical and driven. The Washington/U.S. team used their strength intelligently, outsmarting their opponents before outrowing them. And in the final moments of the Olympic medal race, they were driven enough to push themselves beyond their limits, and do it in perfect sync. Fuck you, Hitler. USA! USA!

Prior to reading this book, one of the few things I knew about crew was its upper class British origins. Brown focuses on the fact that Washington, and the West Coast in general, was still considered pretty rustic at this time, though Seattle was a pretty well developed city. The Washington/U.S. gold medal crew were not boys from the upper classes. There's something so American about it. So while giving the middle finger to Hitler, they were also continuing what the previous winning crews from the University of California had started, and claiming something that was once so elitist. Pocock did the same thing in his youth, showing up (but also helping) the Eaton boys on the Thames. 

I clearly was swept up in the story, because I cried when they won (even though I already knew they had). The only thing I didn't totally enjoy about this book was all the technical information about how Pocock constructed his shells. I see why it was necessary to include, it just bored me a little. Otherwise, I found this to be a solid, well-written work. I always like when I learn something new from non-fiction, and while I don't see myself putting my newfound knowledge of crew to much use, the personal stories of the winning boat and the key figures kept my interest.