Half the Sky, an eye-opening book from Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, about the marginalization of women in many parts of the world, was the Fab Five Book Club title for the night. These two journalists, who are also married to each other, have traveled the world looking into some of the ways that people have attempted to raise the standard of living for women and their families.
There are a lot of problems to tackle. Human trafficking is widespread in certain countries, and the lowest form of it is found in "recruitment" of young girls for brothels. Many maternal medical needs are neglected, and girls' medical and educational needs are often ignored in favor of making sure their brothers' needs are met. Female genital cutting has also proven difficult to combat.
The authors tell the stories of many different girls and women. They cite studies that show that if you give people a lot of data or statistics, listeners lose interest quickly. So the authors give us stories. We had different reactions to this. Some felt it was repetitious, too many stories, too many people. Others felt that it did a good job of showing how one person is part of a community, and that community presents both complicating factors and opportunities for support.
We weren't sure that the book is completely fair to non-government agencies. One of us felt like the authors have a bit of an attitude about the way NGOs work, and there isn't much space given to anything they've done right.
I, personally, found the book inspiring. There are many ways that we can be involved in making positive changes. We can educate ourselves on the political aspects of foreign aid and legislation. We can volunteer our time and energy. We can donate. We can work at a grassroots level to bring change. We can be careful that our theological or philosophical differences don't hold us back us from working with others. And, though the book doesn't suggest it, we can pray.
Books like this tend to make me want to pack my suitcase and head overseas. And that's another thing the book warns against. The Western world tends to think we have it all under control, that we can step in and coerce change. Real change comes only when the community is understood, and when it can get on board. They suggest that we be ready to write a check and then carry bags backstage, letting the people have the power in making their own change.
While we spent some time talking about the movie, I have to admit that we spent more time rearranging our host's living room. We carried cabinets, bookshelves and chairs, and completely redesigned the layout of the room. Then our resident interior designer went to work, putting certain books on certain shelves, adding accessories here and there, and turning the room into a work of art. If you need your room redecorated, we have just the person for you.
We also enjoyed the pleasure of clotted cream. Ostensibly we were eating gingerbread scones, but they were really just conduits for the cream. Seriously. So good.
And we heard the tentative itinerary for our first trip together--a pilgrimage to Cincinnati. While the schedule includes pizza from La Rosa's, lunch at Skyline Chili, ice cream from Graeters, and dinner at Grand Finale, there will be non-food excursions as well. In fact, the plan is jam-packed and may require a vacation afterward to recover. But we'll have our purchases from Half-Price Books and Trader Joe's to help us recover.
And so you can see that we get caught up in our daily joys, decisions, lifestyles and worries, all of which conspire to distract us from the rest of the world and the suffering others endure. It's a challenge to us to keep a balance between enjoying the blessings that come our way and being advocates who are in very different positions.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Mudbound: The Story of Us
The title says it all. Hillary Jordan's book Mudbound describes characters sucked into the ooze partly of their own making and partly of what has happened to them in their time, place and circumstance, just as we all are. This might sound like a complete downer, and it certainly has some terrible moments, but it is a good read. A compelling storyline and characters we can relate to (even when we wish we can't) make it a fairly quick yet meaningful book.
The book begins and ends with the burial scene of Pappy, the twisted, hateful patriarch of the white McAllan family. He is being buried in the rain, in the sodden, lonely fields of Mudbound, the farm that his son, Henry, has finally purchased after a lifetime of saving and dreaming. Not even to dust or ashes, Pappy is going to mud.
Henry is the stalwart, stoic eldest son who marries Laura later in life. Laura, a college-educated almost-spinster, is uprooted from her city life to become a farmwife. Henry's younger brother Jamie is a charmer who comes back from World War II with a hole in his heart.
The black Jackson family shares the farm as one of the tenants. Hap Jackson is determined to make more of his life than the fate of a sharecropper. His strong, intelligent wife Florence partners with him to make his dreams come true. Their hopes and dreams are also invested in their oldest son, Ronsel, another WWII vet. Ronsel's "got a shine to him"--he hopes for further education and a different life. He has trouble adjusting to the racism and Jim Crow laws of his Mississippi home after feeling freed from some of it in Europe during the war.
The interred Pappy is not the only one trapped by the land. Sharecroppers are fettered to the land and their landlords. Henry is sucked in to the land by his own "landsickness," a desire for the land that goes beyond what he feels for his wife and family. Ronsel is embedded in a community that can't see past his skin color, but he can't leave because he must help his family farm.
The good women of the Neland book club spent some time talking about the structure of the book. It is told from six different points of view, so the chapters go from character to character, giving us insight into each of their thoughts. Sometimes the voices were not as distinct as we might wish. Books like The Help and The Poisonwood Bible have been stronger in this respect. While we might not always be able to discern the actual voice of each character, we still see their perspectives distinctly. Many times we wish we didn't have to hear exactly what they were thinking. Jordan stays true to the time and place, and the racism of even the less racist characters angered us as we read, even as we could empathize with other aspects of the characters.
None of the characters is a true out-and-out hero, though there is still potential. Each are mired in their own natures--each a strange cocktail of their own experience, knowledge, hate, love, compassion, fear and pride. Some come close to heroism at different points, but can't really pull it off. Which would probably be true for about 99% of the human race.
The story rings true in other ways, too. One strand of the history of the U.S. is that of people looking for freedom and land, and using what power they have to realize that dream, even at the cost of marginalizing others.
Jordan's novel won the Bellwether Prize, which is a prize awarded to a previously unpublished novel that supports social change. There was a bit of discussion about whether or not Mudbound is a bit heavy-handed, but the consensus seemed to be that it really wasn't.
I definitely recommend it. And I will say, if I had any illusions that I might enjoy being a farmwife (which I really don't--I'm too lazy and enjoy city comforts), they are gone forever. If nothing else, the book might make you more thankful for your toilet and shower. Hopefully it will also raise your consciousness on other issues as well.
The book begins and ends with the burial scene of Pappy, the twisted, hateful patriarch of the white McAllan family. He is being buried in the rain, in the sodden, lonely fields of Mudbound, the farm that his son, Henry, has finally purchased after a lifetime of saving and dreaming. Not even to dust or ashes, Pappy is going to mud.
Henry is the stalwart, stoic eldest son who marries Laura later in life. Laura, a college-educated almost-spinster, is uprooted from her city life to become a farmwife. Henry's younger brother Jamie is a charmer who comes back from World War II with a hole in his heart.
The black Jackson family shares the farm as one of the tenants. Hap Jackson is determined to make more of his life than the fate of a sharecropper. His strong, intelligent wife Florence partners with him to make his dreams come true. Their hopes and dreams are also invested in their oldest son, Ronsel, another WWII vet. Ronsel's "got a shine to him"--he hopes for further education and a different life. He has trouble adjusting to the racism and Jim Crow laws of his Mississippi home after feeling freed from some of it in Europe during the war.
The interred Pappy is not the only one trapped by the land. Sharecroppers are fettered to the land and their landlords. Henry is sucked in to the land by his own "landsickness," a desire for the land that goes beyond what he feels for his wife and family. Ronsel is embedded in a community that can't see past his skin color, but he can't leave because he must help his family farm.
The good women of the Neland book club spent some time talking about the structure of the book. It is told from six different points of view, so the chapters go from character to character, giving us insight into each of their thoughts. Sometimes the voices were not as distinct as we might wish. Books like The Help and The Poisonwood Bible have been stronger in this respect. While we might not always be able to discern the actual voice of each character, we still see their perspectives distinctly. Many times we wish we didn't have to hear exactly what they were thinking. Jordan stays true to the time and place, and the racism of even the less racist characters angered us as we read, even as we could empathize with other aspects of the characters.
None of the characters is a true out-and-out hero, though there is still potential. Each are mired in their own natures--each a strange cocktail of their own experience, knowledge, hate, love, compassion, fear and pride. Some come close to heroism at different points, but can't really pull it off. Which would probably be true for about 99% of the human race.
The story rings true in other ways, too. One strand of the history of the U.S. is that of people looking for freedom and land, and using what power they have to realize that dream, even at the cost of marginalizing others.
Jordan's novel won the Bellwether Prize, which is a prize awarded to a previously unpublished novel that supports social change. There was a bit of discussion about whether or not Mudbound is a bit heavy-handed, but the consensus seemed to be that it really wasn't.
I definitely recommend it. And I will say, if I had any illusions that I might enjoy being a farmwife (which I really don't--I'm too lazy and enjoy city comforts), they are gone forever. If nothing else, the book might make you more thankful for your toilet and shower. Hopefully it will also raise your consciousness on other issues as well.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Grit, Grace and Dragons--Three Movies
A western, an urban drama, and a historical epic. In the last week and a half, I've watched three movies that deal with how we respond to tragedy and suffering in our lives.
First off, True Grit. In this remake of the John Wayne movie, precocious 14-year-old Mattie seeks out the services of marshall Rooster Cogburn to help her hunt down the man who killed her father. Mattie insists on accompanying him, and she brings her father's gun in the hopes of bringing her own justice. This is a Coen Brothers movie, so there are a few scenes of grisly outlaw violence. It also begins with Proverbs 28:1, "The wicked flee when none pursueth." The score includes heavy use of the melody of "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms," and some of the symbolism is hard to miss--when Mattie loses her innocence, she falls into a pit crawling with snakes. The cinematography is excellent, as is the acting. The PG-13 rating astounds me, as the few violent scenes are stark and disturbing. Worth seeing if you can handle a couple of bloody moments.
Then there was The Grace Card, which comes out later this month. In this faith-based movie, police officer Mac is bitter and angry from the death of his young son years before. He harbors this bitterness, which manifests itself in a broken family, a stalled-out career, and racism. His new partner is Sam, a black, part-time pastor. The acting in this movie is good, but the story is contrived. I could live with the storyline up until a cringeworthy last-minute twist. However, I enjoyed the main themes of forgiveness and loving those who don't love you. This is not a subtle movie, and it's not beautiful filmmaking, but it's as good as any made-for-TV movie, with better acting.
Last but not least was There Be Dragons. When I first saw the title, I thought it was an animated kids' movie. It is no such thing. There Be Dragons is the story of Spanish saint Josemaria Escriva. He became a priest at the first rumblings of the Spanish Civil War. His childhood friend also begins at the seminary, but his life takes a completely different turn, as he joins the anarchist movement. These two men both suffer, and the different responses to suffering are the focus of the filmmaker. There Be Dragons is from director Roland Joffe, who directed The Mission and The Killing Fields. Beautiful scenes unfold; I particularly liked one where the priest is tending to someone at the hospital, a Jewish man he's known all his life, and there are three high windows in the gorgeous old building that stream sunlight down on the whole ward like a benediction. This thoughtful film makes some lovely statements about what it means to be human, and what it means to follow Christ. It isn't out until May, but it's a good one.
What have you seen lately that's worth seeing?
First off, True Grit. In this remake of the John Wayne movie, precocious 14-year-old Mattie seeks out the services of marshall Rooster Cogburn to help her hunt down the man who killed her father. Mattie insists on accompanying him, and she brings her father's gun in the hopes of bringing her own justice. This is a Coen Brothers movie, so there are a few scenes of grisly outlaw violence. It also begins with Proverbs 28:1, "The wicked flee when none pursueth." The score includes heavy use of the melody of "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms," and some of the symbolism is hard to miss--when Mattie loses her innocence, she falls into a pit crawling with snakes. The cinematography is excellent, as is the acting. The PG-13 rating astounds me, as the few violent scenes are stark and disturbing. Worth seeing if you can handle a couple of bloody moments.
Then there was The Grace Card, which comes out later this month. In this faith-based movie, police officer Mac is bitter and angry from the death of his young son years before. He harbors this bitterness, which manifests itself in a broken family, a stalled-out career, and racism. His new partner is Sam, a black, part-time pastor. The acting in this movie is good, but the story is contrived. I could live with the storyline up until a cringeworthy last-minute twist. However, I enjoyed the main themes of forgiveness and loving those who don't love you. This is not a subtle movie, and it's not beautiful filmmaking, but it's as good as any made-for-TV movie, with better acting.
Last but not least was There Be Dragons. When I first saw the title, I thought it was an animated kids' movie. It is no such thing. There Be Dragons is the story of Spanish saint Josemaria Escriva. He became a priest at the first rumblings of the Spanish Civil War. His childhood friend also begins at the seminary, but his life takes a completely different turn, as he joins the anarchist movement. These two men both suffer, and the different responses to suffering are the focus of the filmmaker. There Be Dragons is from director Roland Joffe, who directed The Mission and The Killing Fields. Beautiful scenes unfold; I particularly liked one where the priest is tending to someone at the hospital, a Jewish man he's known all his life, and there are three high windows in the gorgeous old building that stream sunlight down on the whole ward like a benediction. This thoughtful film makes some lovely statements about what it means to be human, and what it means to follow Christ. It isn't out until May, but it's a good one.
What have you seen lately that's worth seeing?
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