Oddly readable for the era

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl
by Harriet Jacobs

First published in 1861, this is an autobiography of a woman who eventually escaped to New York.  Later in life she became an abolitionist speaker. The sources I consulted called it a fictionalized history, but having read it through, I'd say there was very little fiction to it. She changed the names of the main characters, but who can blame her? Some of the people were still alive when the book was published. The good people would have suffered for the deeds they did, and the evil ones would have filed one heck of a libel suit.

Even after living on her own for years, she still lived in fear of being captured and returned.  Eventually a  good friend purchased her freedom and that of her children. The generous (or decent) act was done against her wishes, but she admits to relief when it was all over. So much joy! But tinged with eternal grief.  And her one fondest wish was to live in a house together with her son and daughter, but that wish was never realized. The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 scared her brother into emigrating to California and her son went with him. Her daughter was educated in a boarding school.

The book ended too soon for me. After hearing of all she'd suffered, I longed to hear her reaction to the Emancipation Proclamation.

One interesting note--bearing in mind that it was written in the mid-nineteenth century, the story is told straightforwardly, with only a modicum of moralizing. Her little asides in the stylistic, preaching tones of the typical nineteenth century writer were easy to ignore.  Her moral indignation was not so convincing, either--when she resisted her master's attempts to rape her, I suspect it wasn't chastity she was concerned with, but subjugation.  It was a power struggle--and she was one determined woman.

Quiet moments on the farm

Epitaph For A Peach: Four Seasons on my Family Farm

by David Mas Matsumoto

Lovely and sad. But not depressing. How is that possible, you may ask, to be sad but not depressing?  Read it and see.

Its a personal, meandering, pondering year on a family farm growing grapes and peaches.  It takes place entirely on the farm in California and entirely in the mind of the author...yet his mind roams far and wide and deep, down to the wiggly worms in the soil and the leaf borers mining his trees for gold.  He touches on history but I wish he'd gone farther--we know his grandfather bought the farm but we hear only the scant facts of their lives and hopes and dreams. His father helps out on the farm, but I long to hear his story, too. Maybe another book, someday?

Oddly enough, it neither bored me nor put me to sleep as such simple, quiet memoirs frequently do these days. I seem to have lost the ability to sit and savor.  Retirement--oh, that blessed fantasy!--might give it back to me.

The rise of the food like substance

In Defense of Food:
An Eater's Manifesto
by Michael Pollan

If you've read Marion Nestle or any number of other critics of the American "food culture", you'll find nothing new here. But Michael Pollan is a great synthesizer and writes a snappy prose. I enjoyed it so much I listened to some parts twice or more.  (Okay, I was walking on busy city streets at the time--I had to double-up sometimes to hear what the noise of motors drowned out.)

Some points of note:
According to Michael Pollan, in 1977 when the Select Committee on Nutrition and Human Needs first attempted to publish its recommendations, it was blasted for saying that Americans should eat less red meat and dairy products. It had to change its recommendations to, "less cholesterol and saturated fat."

Nutritionism is the word used by Marion Nestle (I think) to describe the way of thinking that says that foods with similar nutrients are identical, whatever their origins or other ingredients. Of course this falls short in the easiest example: baby formula. Even when formulated with the same relative proportions of protein, fat and carbohydrates, then fortified with every "known" nutrient, it still fails to keep babies thriving as well as mother's milk.  What we don't know will hurt us.

America's lack of a traditional food culture may owe something to the puritan doctrine that forbade taking pleasure in food.  Bless it, eat it, and get back to work.

You'd have to eat three of the apples of today to get the same nutrients as one apple of the 1940s.

And to top them all, "Organic oreos are not health food."

His personal recommendations for how to shop and how to eat are summarized at the end.  After reading them, I took a look at some of my cherished pantry staples. Most were (reassuringly) actual foods--not food-like substances.  But my organic vegetable broth?

Cane sugar, dextrose, molasses, and pear juice concentrate.  aka, sugar, sugar, sugar, and sugar. Organic, of course.

As far as the foot can slog

As Far as the Eye Can See

Reflections of an Appalachian Trail Hiker

by David Brill

About the time when I was yearning to hike long distances in remote places, this guy did it.  1979, Appalachian trail.  Only it turns out that the Appalachian trail was hardly "remote places".  Never did a day go by without him seeing at least one other hiker, and typically many more. For those seeking solitude, it was not the place to be.

Funny--I walked up the trail a little ways back in 75 or 76 and felt eerily alone. But I was comparing it to where I'd started--Clingman's Dome, a site accessible by car and one of the most visited sites in the Smokies. Once I'd gotten away from the parking area, I had a taste of that panicky solitude you get when you're suddenly away from your pack...but I also felt that marvelous quiet.

It took him a while, but the author got what he wanted. He was changed by the experience in many wonderful ways, and he says it stuck with him for a long time and maybe forever. 

As to the book itself, I'll admit that about halfway through, I got bored. I was tired of his descriptions of his traveling companions, people met on the road, and towns he visited for resupply. A lot of facts like pictures in a scrapbook...how many people can take photos--even vacation photos--that you really want to see?  There's Joe, and John, and there's Matt and his new wife Sally; here's Mount Bland and a scenic trickling stream....  Sorry folks--your friends might pretend to enjoy your vacation photos, but mostly they're just being polite.

But three-quarters through the book he took a break and spent a fortnight at Randall's Farm near Hot Springs, North Carolina  Things suddenly got real--our surface skim acquired depth. And I was no longer bored.

Good beginning; shaky middle; great ending.

So-so mystery

Blessed Are the Dead
by Kristi Belcamino
It kept me turning the pages. What else can I say about a mystery?
Suspenseful--check. Likeable protagonist--check. Any real detective work done by protagonist--nope.  Three-dimensional characters--not really.  Stress-relieving humor--not so that I noticed. Plot--not so much. Interesting twist at the end that you didn't see coming--not a chance. Irritating introduction of a new character at the end just to hike up the suspense--for sure.  Blatant borrowing from Silence Of the Lambs? Seemed that way to me.

Negatives aside, it's fine if you like that sort of thing.  Newspaperwoman on the trail of missing kid because her own sister disappeared and was never found.  It may be just what you're looking for--if so, this is worth a second look.

My new hero

My Beloved World
by Sonia Sotomayor

Wow wholy amazing stupendous. Autobiography and essay by a person with more
brains in her little finger than I ever could cram into my whole stupid head. Wow.

Okay, I'm in love. But honestly--could she be telling the truth? Could she not? How can a poor girl from the projects end up a justice on the United States Supreme Court? She says, brains, perseverance, and a blessed life.  I say brains, perseverance, and a freaking awesome family. 

But the funny thing is, she started off disadvantaged in the family department, with an alcoholic father and a distant mother and an empty apartment full of embarrassment and anger. But she had grandmothers and aunts and uncles and cousins. She knew the coziness of a grandmother's kitchen, the fun of a family party, the camaraderie of cousins your own age, and the help of uncles and aunts who cared to make a difference.  They did.

And don't get me wrong about the disadvantages--the alcoholic father was a good man who held down a job and cooked for his family and never hurt his kids. He just checked out of life once each day. And the distant mother was trying hard, but so overcome with her own pain and inadequacy that it took her years to learn how to be the mother her kids needed.

Enough--I've said too much. Judge Sotomayor became who she is through self-discipline and hard work.  And if the book gets a little preachy at times, I consider that just fine. She's earned the right to speak out. I hope she keeps on--and I know she will.

More inspiration

My Year Of Running Dangerously:

A Dad, a Daughter, and a Ridiculous Plan

by Tom Foreman

Optimistic to the point of ecstacy, this book is a perfect antidote to the downer that was What I Think About When I Think About Running.  I finished that book still not knowing why he ran. And especially not why he raced. It just seemed like something he did to keep fit.

Not so for Tom Foreman. He may have started off in order to help his daughter run a marathon, but he ended up in a whole 'nuther universe.  From reporter to runner in 180 days.  And that's only the first half of the book.

He ends up on such a monumentally positive note that it's hard to say anything critical at all about the book. Maybe I think the author overdid it a little in his training, but in no way did that hurt the story.  Who likes a wishy-washy writer, anyway?  He wasn't.  And neither was his family. In fact, the family story is almost half of the book and I loved it.