What Is the What
Dave Eggers
(McSweeney's Books)


In this remarkable and powerful book, Dave Eggers tells the true (though slightly fictionalized) story of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. As a refugee from a brutal Sudanese civil war in the late 1980s, Deng fled when his village fell under attack from forces from the North. He then trudged on foot amid inhospitable and frightening conditions across Sudan to the border with Ethiopia.

The group of boys with whom he trekked suffered through a lack of food, water and safety. Many died along the way – from starvation, lion attacks, malaria, and attacks by Arabs from the North. In one harrowing scene, Eggers writes of Deng burying a friend from his village who died of starvation. Deng says, “That he could not say goodbye to his mother and father, that only I would know where his body lay. It was a broken world, I knew then, that would allow a boy such as me to bury a boy such as William K.”

After a long, terrible journey enduring many hardships, Deng finally makes it to a camp in Kenya (instability in Ethiopia drove the Sudanese out). After several years at the camp, he and several compatriots are eventually flown to the U.S. to begin life anew. Life in the U.S., however, is rife with its own difficulties: finding a job, studying college courses, and learning to drive and shop at the grocery store, dealing with prejudice and the trials of living in an urban American city, all the while dealing with the aftermath of the physical and emotional torment endured at home.

Though so much heartbreaking suffering and incomprehensible brutality makes the story difficult to read at times, Eggers’ easy prose and obvious deep respect and compassion for Deng only sheds light on Deng’s unmistakable strength. This compelling novel truly forces you to think, to face the depth of human despair while also affirming your faith in the triumph of the human spirit.

- Kalpana Ettenson


   
The End
Lemony Snicket
(Harper Collins)


How to review a book after being sworn to secrecy … What I will say about The End, without revealing anything, is that we’re left with many loose ends at the end of The End. And there is a recipe for white bean salad on p. 9, which, after adding a pinch of salt, turned out delicious.

Overall, I loved A Series of Unfortunate Events. The books are clever and brilliantly written, a smart mix of comedy (three precocious and resourceful children at the mercy of simpleminded adults), tragedy (losing their parents in a fire and having to endure a slew of unsuitable guardians) and edification (a word which here means “teaching children both big words and moral lessons”). But I was a little disappointed that the misadventures of the Baudelaire orphans became darker and more dramatic as the stories wore on, especially from Book the Eighth: The Hostile Hospital through Book the Twelfth: The Penultimate Peril, where their circumstances went from being unfortunate but absurd to downright dire. It made me wonder whether the embattled siblings would ever be free from the treachery of opportunistic adults or their consequent guilt after their own defensible but duplicitous deeds.

I doubt there will be angry mobs after Mr. Snicket following the release of The End, but it’ll be interesting to hear the reactions of Unfortunate Events fans, young and old. In the meantime, you may want to distract yourself with some unpleasantly appropriate music, from The Tragic Treasury.

- Jennifer Elks

   

   
Mary: A Novel
Janis Cooke Newman
(MacAdam Cage)

Young Mary is a woman who knows her own mind, speaks ardently and learnedly about politics, and loves passionately. Unfortunately, Mary lives in the mid-nineteenth century, when such zeal is uncouth. More specifically, she is Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of our sixteenth president and future poster girl for misunderstood females. In a turn of good timing, Janis Cooke Newman’s historical novel has been published while the musical Asylum: The Strange Case of Mary Lincoln plays in New York, and science is determining the physical, non-Freudian roots of hysteria.

Science and stage notwithstanding, Newman’s Mary is neither easily understood nor a wooden representation. In a secret memoir written at the asylum where she was placed by her sole-surviving son, she is all sensuousness and heat. Ushering us into a literature redolent with the stifling air of nineteenth-century medicine and psychology, thick with cholera, birthing deaths, and the cupric scent of blood, Mary is more romantic than realist. Like a better-intentioned Lady MacBeth, she helps her husband overcome his crippling melancholy; unfortunately, her unseemly female ambition leads to her ruin. She wants more than she can have and pays with her freedom, a victim of (in her doctor’s words) “the women’s hell.” An invective against the crimes of psychology and the power of men over women, Mary saves Mrs. Lincoln from history and delivers her unto the feminists.

– Nicole Harvey
 

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