The Sandcastle Girls, by Chris Bohjalian

Looking at the cover of this book, I didn’t expect much.  I didn’t even read the blurb on the back, just gauged it by the cover art--a young woman in white standing in a wind-eroded yellowed landscape--and the title.  I sort of expected a coming of age story about some teenage girlfriends during a formative summer.  But my wife had recommended it, and I was on my way to the airport and didn’t have time to be choosy, so I just grabbed it, kissed her, and ran.  The story was actually about the Armenian genocide of 1915 in which some 1.5 million people perished from murder, starvation, or disease.  Oooops.  As they say, never judge a book by its cover.

Most of the story is set in the Syrian city of Aleppo, much in the news these days as the Syrian government commits heinous atrocities against its own citizens in order to stifle dissent.  This city just can’t seem to get a break.  In 1138 it was the site of one of the most destructive earthquakes in all history, killing possibly as many as 230,000.  In 1915 it was the largest city on the hopeless trek from Armenia to Deir-ez Zor, a mid-desert encampment where thousands of women, children, and elderly were starved to death.  The men had already been executed.  

Laura is a modern day (2010) fortyish writer discovering and chronicling the story of her grandparents.  She knows that her grandfather, now dead, was Armenian, and that there were parts of his past that he was unwilling to talk about.  As the 100th anniversary of the genocide is approaching, she is caught by a photograph she sees in a museum.  It shows a woman, emaciated beyond belief, sitting in the dirt against a wall; she is identified as Karine Petrosian.  The same surname as her grandfather's.  Could this have been a relative of hers?  That question propels her to research in museums, archives, her grandparents’ letters, and eventually a journey to Aleppo where the galvanizing photo was taken.  

This is a story of love, of survival, of perseverance, of remembrance.  Armen, Laura's grandfather, is a young Armenian man who has survived the brutal obliteration of his home city by the Turks, and found temporary safety working with a pair of German soldiers in Aleppo.  [The irony of finding refuge from genocide with Germans is never stated by the author, but impossible to miss as a reader.  We are reminded that people--individuals--are all different, and that we all possess innate abilities to do great harm and great good.]. Elizabeth, her grandmother, is a relief worker from Boston, young and naive, but strong in spirit.  Armen and Elizabeth are attracted, fall in love, are separated, and struggle to reunite against the horrific backdrop of both the Armenian catastrophe and World War I.  

The love story is fiction but sadly the backdrop is not.  For a hundred years Armenian descendants have sought to pressure the Turks to own up to the genocide, the intentional and systematic annihilation of a whole people.  The Turks’ response is that shit happens in war, and it is forbidden in Turkey to utter the word ‘genocide’ in connection with the Armenians. 

This is not, in my opinion, a lasting work of literature, destined for any hallowed place.  It is a nicely told story with straightforward narration and unaccented dialogue.  The romance and the connection between generations is treated with warmth and wistfulness, and there is a twist to the story that caused me to catch my breath.  Much more than that, the story opens a window onto a piece of history that seems to be untold or to have been forgotten.  That is the important thing about history: it must not be forgotten.

The Prince, by Niccolo Machiavelli

It doesn’t feel quite right writing a review of a book that was written five hundred years ago, shortly after the discovery by Columbus of the western hemisphere, and that has been read by millions.  Like my review will be read by more than three people.  Ever.  Call me audacious, here I go.

The Prince is the original self-help book, advising the reader how to wield power so as to gain it and keep it.  The book was addressed to Lorenzo de Medici, son of Piero de Medici, grandson of Lorenzo “the Magnificent” de Medici, all of whom were rulers of Florence.  In his time, late 15th and early 16th centuries, Italy was divided mainly into principalities--Milan, Venice, Florence, Naples, and lesser ones like Pisa, Verona, Bologna, and Sienna.  The Pope, of course, ruled Rome.  The rulers of these places--the princes--tended to change frequently as power shifted from one family to another.  A treatise on how to keep power would be a very useful and welcome gift for a new ruler to receive.

It’s a short book, only eighty-seven pages in the paperback printing I read.  Not really a quick read though, because it has many footnotes that are important to understanding the text.   I used two bookmarks--one for the text and one for the footnotes, which appeared in order at the back of the book.  I also found myself checking Wikipedia for historical references.

From this book comes the popular modern adjective, ‘Machiavellian’, meaning ruthless, doing whatever it takes to hold onto power.  Murder, deceit, manipulation, bribery (both given and taken) are all among the recommended tools.  No holds barred.  Ironically he places great importance on religion; that is, the wise prince must seem to be religious.  He need not be a true believer himself but his subjects must see him as religious, and he must encourage religion as it is the one most powerful weapon in getting people to do what you wish.  Brings to mind some modern politicians who may have studied Machiavelli.  

The second most powerful tool is fear. He devotes several pages to the question of whether it is better to be loved or feared.  You will have rightly guessed that fear is the winner.  Machiavelli reaches the following very reasonable and unassailable conclusion: “Returning to the question, then, of being loved or feared, I conclude that since men love as they themselves determine but fear as their ruler determines, a wise prince must rely upon what he and not others can control.”

The work is a dispassionate set of principles of power, untempered by any sense of morality. Was he a sociopath?  He showed no sign of enjoying cruelty, which is presented as a tool to be used judiciously, to achieve a purpose, not as an end in itself, but not to be shied away from when necessary.  Of the need for cruelty, for which he uses the euphemism ‘injury’, he says, “Injuries must be committed all at once so that, being savored less, they will arouse less resentment.  Benefits, on the other hand, should be  bestowed little by little, so as to be more fully savored.”  Fascinating reading, really.  The temptation to see his principles in use in the modern world is unavoidable.  

As it happens, Sue and I have been watching some ‘made for Netflix’ historical series, including ones on Louis XIV of France, the English Tudors, Kublai Khan, and the Medici's of Florence.  All of them follow the formula: Sex + Violence + a touch of history = Viewers.  The stories hew pretty closely to known, documented people and events, which makes it at least quasi-educational.  The violence is often graphic, but I know how to close my eyes at the right moment.  The sex is graphic too, and I know how to not close my eyes....  

We are currently in the middle of a 40+ episode series on the Borgia family, one of the competitors for dominance in the time of Machiavelli. Rodrigo Borgia even bribed and threatened his way to the papacy, and held that position for eleven years until he died of poisoning.  Very spiritual.  

Machiavelli was an adviser to Rodrigo’s son, Cesare Borgia, who had a tumultuous career, rife with intrigue, bribery, mendacity, and violence, in short, all the tools Machiavelli endorses for use by the ‘wise prince’.  Though Cesare failed to prevail as a stable and secure prince--he died in battle when his troops abandoned him--he figures prominently in The Prince as the kind of ruler whose methods should be emulated by others who wish to rule.  It must be more than coincidence that the ruler he evaluates most favorably is the one he advised.  To be fair, it must have cut both ways; many of the principles Machiavelli presents must have been developed through observation of Cesare Borgia’s actions and the results. 

I must hasten not to overstate the role of Borgia in The Prince.  Machiavelli cites events in ancient Greece, Persia, Rome, Syria, Carthage, etc. in addition to events in then recent history in Europe.  He was clearly an avid student of history and observer of human nature and current events.   

As I read this book about how to succeed as a ruler, it was natural to wonder which, if any, of the principles could be applied on a much less grand stage; that is, as a manager.  For example, he advises, ”It is the nature of men to feel as much bound by the favors they do as by those they receive.”  If a person does me a favor, it sits in that person’s memory as an investment in me, and consequently tilts that person favorably toward me in the future.  As a manager, the more people I can get favors from, the better positioned I am for future success. Useful advice. 

Needless to say, I don’t agree with everything Machiavelli presents as principles.  After all, Cesare Borgia suffered a violent death at the age of 31, and Machiavelli himself had limited success.  But much is worthy of thought and, better yet, discussion.  A business would do well to include such a discussion in its leadership development program.  Glad I read it, wish I’d done so forty years ago.  I might have been king of the world.

The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving, by Jonathan Evison

Why do I keep finding myself reading stories of loss, these sad heartfelt dramas that make me cry my eyes out?  You’d think I would avoid them.  The title to this book is a dead giveaway.  I should have known this would be a tear jerker, and it was a good one.

Benjamin Benjamin is stuck.  Going nowhere.  In a rut.  I guess that’s why the author gave him the repetitive name.  Right from the start it’s clear that he has suffered some tragedy, and the loss has immobilized him ever since.  He’s 39, unemployed, unskilled, broke, his apartment is so small he calls it his compartment, his Subaru threatens to give out at any minute, and his estranged wife is pressing him to man up and sign the damn divorce papers.  If he’s not at rock bottom, it’s in hollering distance.  The thing is, he’s really likable.  Beyond the snappy self-deprecating way he tells the story, he takes full responsibility for his condition, not deflecting blame onto anyone else.  

His narration really is a trip.  It’s the bomb.  In the first chapter, after summarizing his destitution and explaining what he learned in the 28-hour class “Fundamentals of Caregiving,” such as “how to insert catheters and avoid liability,” he drives to his first interview with a real client.   “I arrive at the farm nine minutes early, just in time to see whom I presume to be one of my job competitors waddle out the front door and down the access ramp in sweat pants.  She squeezes herself behind the wheel of a rusty Datsun and sputters past me up the bumpy driveway, riding low on the driver’s side.  The sweat pants bode well, and even with three missing hubcaps, my Subaru looks better than that crappy Datsun.”

He gets the job, caring for Trev, a hopelessly crippled twenty-something who suffers from terminal MD.  As their story unfolds we meet a growing assortment of sad sack characters, each broken in their own way, and all striving against the odds to repair themselves.  Like Ben, they also make clear-eyed appraisals of their failings and, though they appear pathetic at first, they all seem to deserve a break.

I’ve already admitted the story made me cry, but it also made me laugh.  Out loud.  One novel, two great emotional releases.  How about that!  There’s wisdom here too, about the breathtaking preciousness of life, about the unspeakable desperation of loss, and about the unfathomable resilience of the human spirit.  It just keeps coming back for more.

One of the novel’s best contributions is to bestow the possibility of wit, humor, desire, and depth on all those wheel chair confined people we pretend not to see every single day.  Trev turns out to be someone you’d like to hang out with.

The story does reach a happy ending, not exactly joyful, but a realistic sort of closure.  More healthy than happy.  It’s a kind of closure we would all do well to seek when it’s our turn to face the deep chasm and the inevitability of loss.

The Gospel According to Jesus Christ, by Jose Saramago

Of a book with a title as audacious as this, one would expect great theological significance, and not a little blasphemy.  One is not disappointed.  Saramago has clearly given the matter a great deal of thought, and clearly a great deal of research.  I’m not a biblical scholar, and therefore cannot point to every case in which he deviates from the King James version, nor of every case in which his story matches the Bible.  I capitalize Bible not because I fear the wrath of God, again capitalized, but because I fear the wrath of man.  

In the words of God, put there by the author, a man, (and what words has God ever spoken that were not put there by a man?), “...most people overlook the fact that the demons of one religion are powerless to act in another.”  In other words, if I do not believe in this god, he is powerless to harm me.  Continuing, God, in 

Saramago's words, says “...any god, confronting another, can neither vanquish him nor be vanquished by him.”  The profound implication is that any god exists only in the beliefs of people, and the only way for a god to be vanquished is to have people cease to believe in him.  Or cease to believe in his power to meddle in the events of this life or any other, which comes to the same thing.   

This book is one that deserves a second reading.   Saramago slips in wonderful little tidbits of insight, often dangling at the end of a long sentence, or buried amid a chapter-long conversation with God, as when God says of a statement by Jesus, “A subtle reply, but meaningless, although meaninglessness has it’s charm, people should be left perplexed, afraid they don’t understand, and that it is their fault.”

It seems the more fervently adherents feel about their faith, the more violence results.  Even more, it’s the need to spread the word and convert others that really brings out the blood.  The two best examples are Islam and Christianity.  Why don’t we see aggression by Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs, Jains, Native Americans?  Even Jews.  We see them involved in occasional violence but mostly in defensive postures, protecting their own lives and possessions, mostly from Islamic aggressors.  Jews are more intent on policing their own ethnic membership than converting others. Is it correct to say that converts are not generally considered true Jews, and their rights in the so-called Jewish homeland, Israel, are limited?  Judaism is a difficult club to break into, and it’s likely that exclusivity that creates a lot of the resentment against them.  But it’s Christians and Muslims whose creeds require their adherents to spread the word, “good news” as it has been called for two thousand years.  Islam goes the Christians one better by punishing any of its members who lose the faith; the punishment, of course, is death.  

Enough of Islam.  This story takes place a full six centuries before the birth of Mohammed.  It’s a well known story that includes all the familiar episodes, the birth in Bethlehem, the murder of Bethlehem’s babies by Herod, a long gap during the childhood and teens of Jesus, then various miracles, the ministry of Jesus, the betrayal by Judas, the crucifixion.  Saramago spices it up with visitations by angels, and conversations between God, Satan, and Jesus.  Spoiler alert!!   The big question is why, and Saramago has Jesus pose the question directly to God.  Why did God choose to create a son, only to have him crucified.  Saramago’s answer is that God isn’t satisfied with just being the god of the Jews, he wanted more.  He wanted to be the god of all humanity.  Miracles served to generate the awe that captured everyone's attention, Jew and Gentile alike, and the crucifixion locked in martyrdom, the even then time-honored method of capturing and keeping followers.  

Jesus, on hearing this rationale from God, asked him “At what cost?”  God demurred, but Jesus insisted.  What follows is a pages-long list of killings by sword, burning at the stake, chopping block, drawing and quartering, a hideous list of violent murders, the victims actually named (all of them real historic characters, according to Wikipedia; I looked them up), then bleeding into lists of mass deaths from the crusades to modern war.  All in the name of Jesus.  Jesus is rightly horrified at this prospect, but what can he do?  God is God, who is all powerful, can make miracles occur so they appear to have been done by Jesus.  It has already been leaked that he is the son of God.  In a valiant attempt to change the course of events, Jesus declares himself “King of the Jews.”  It’s a clever move, which gains the immediate attention of Pilate, who considers the Jews to be his subjects, and hastens the crucifixion.  As we all now know, Jesus’s attempt to confine his story to the Jews failed.  All the violence and death predicted by God has come to pass, and continues apace.

Saramago presents a case that is sympathetic toward Jesus, a mere pawn caught up in the machinations of a jealous god.  It’s a good read from a serious author whose death in 2010 puts a regrettable bookend on his works.

Cain, by Jose Saramago

I’ve read several books by Saramago, maybe half a dozen.  Why am I drawn to his writing?  Is it the way he treats human foibles, pointing out absurdity in a matter of fact sort of way?  Maybe it’s because he delves into serious matters like religion.  He seems to have a beef against God, and consequently against the insistence by people that God exists.  Regardless, his work is serious and thought-provoking.  

In this book he starts with the generally accepted Christian version of Cain’s life, and then places him on the spot as a witness to other key events of the Old Testament.  As a consequence he happens along just in time to stop Abraham from killing his son to prove his obedience to God; he shows up in the city of Ur to pleasure Lilith at the height of her sexual appetites; he watches Job as God permits Satan to kill all his family, destroy all his wealth, and cover his body with painful boils, again as a test of loyalty; he sees the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah killing all the innocents along with the sinners; and he rides with Noah in the ark as the flood destroys all mankind.  

Saramago pitches God as an ugly, flawed character--jealous, mean, vengeful, petty, unjust.  Anything but loving.  I suspect it would be easy to see the Old Testament that way, in fact hard not to.  I can’t say I’ve read the Bible in its entirety, just certain passages, but I did go to Sunday School and heard a lot of the stories retold.  It seems to be a sort of history of the Middle East, with God as the leading character, appearing occasionally, sometimes in person, sometimes as angels, archangels and the like, handing out edicts, passing judgment and delivering rewards and punishments.  The consistent theme seems to be his powerfulness, and the lesson is that we should offer praises and cower in fear....or he’ll kick our ass.  It fits that the first five of the ten commandments are all about ME, ME, ME.  

Saramago is merciless in his retelling of familiar stories that are supposed to teach us to worship God.  For instance, he describes the situation when Cain arrives at the mountain where Abraham has been told to sacrifice his son Isaac.   “Yes, you read that correctly, the lord ordered Abraham to sacrifice his own son, and he did so as naturally as if he were asking for a glass of water to slake his thirst, which means it was a deep-seated habit of his.”  Repeatedly Cain appeals to God and argues for justice, to no avail.

How does Cain get to all these places and times?  After killing his brother Abel, he becomes a wanderer and just shows up.  Saramago has presented events in other books that are far more inexplicable than that, and besides, the Bible is full of inexplicable events anyway.  

This book, published in 2009, is a sort of companion to The Gospel According to Jesus Christ, which was published in 1991, almost twenty years earlier.  Saramago died in 2010 so Cain was his last book, a final statement, one might conclude.  There remain a few that I haven’t read.  I look forward to them and, possibly some re-readings.

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, by Mildred D. Taylor

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, by Mildred D. Taylor

This novel, first published in 1976, is another on the long list of important works that I am working to catch up on. It is the story of a black family struggling to survive in 1940s rural Mississippi, as told by a nine year old girl in that family. For anyone ignorant of, or even not well informed about, the ugliness of full-throated racism, this book must be an eye opener.  In that time and place it was taken as a norm, by whites and blacks alike, that whites considered blacks inferior, and that they could get away with acting on that belief. Whites saw that as the rightful way of the world; blacks saw it as the unjust way of the world.

Taylor presents a nuanced portrait of both races. There is Cassie, the proud justice-seeking nine year old who narrates the story, her parents who are world-wise and determined not to be swindled out of their beloved two hundred acres, Uncle Hammer with his quick temper, and TJ, a foolish neighbor boy who ultimately pays for his dishonesty and his need to be liked. Among whites, most are mean-spirited in their behavior toward blacks, but there is the exception, Mr. Jamison, an attorney who uses the law and a lot of courage to stand up for the black people in the story.

Some whites reading the story may say it portrays them unfairly but I suspect it's pretty accurate for 1940s Deep South. That setting is only three quarters of a century after the Civil War in which poor southern whites fought and died to preserve their right to own black slaves, and their belief in the inherited fiction that whites are superior to blacks. Now, another three quarters of a century later, there is still deep-seated racism, latent and overt, despite enormous progress toward equality of opportunity and freedom for blacks to achieve. In the 2016 film, "I Am Not Your Negro," the civil rights leader James Baldwin asserts that whites need to ask themselves why they need to have someone they can look down on. Three quarters of a century from now , will our descendants still need to confront that deeply moral question?

Truth or Not

A few days ago a guy I know held up his phone for me to see a picture Obama with the caption "Defying the president and hoping he will fail is not called patriotism, it's TREASON," with the source shown as Occupy Democrats. It's a pretty good meme showcasing hypocrisy on the part of Democrats.  A Jon Stewart style gotcha.  But wait. Occupy Democrats didn't start until at least 2011 after the Occupy Wall Street protests started. The opposition to Obama started as soon as he was elected in 2008. Now this guy I know, let's call him Joe, is a hyperactive troll who gets his jollies by pissing people off on social media. So I said, "Joe, that's bs. That meme was created by some internet troll to get passed around by right wingers. Occupy Democrats didn't even exist then."  Joe grinned and released a big puff of his vape. Got him. Maybe....  Truth in the internet age. Was it really Democrat hypocrisy?  Or was it as I suspect, a R creating the impression od D hypocrisy?  Or a D masquerading as a R fabricating D hypocrisy?  Or a R pretending to be a D masquerading as a R fabricating D hypocrisy?  What can you trust any more?