This week, I'm reviewing books by two Annes; one is a good book, the other I couldn't finish. One was informative and enlightening, the other left me quite pissed.
Let's start with Anne Tyler's "Digging to America," story about two families that adopt Koreans. That's how the story opens... and that's all I could muster to read, just a few chapters.
But first, a side and personal note: I'm adopted. Reading and talking about adoption is always a thrilling experience for me. I could debate everyone about the pros and cons of adoption, warn you about being too yuppy-ish and overprotective, chastise parents and families on both sides for thinking only of themselves and not of the other parents -- adopted or birth -- involved. I had a good adoption experience. When I think about being adopted into the kingdom of God, I think how beautiful that is -- and I can say that from personal experience, that I know my parents chose and searched for me. I'm not sure every adopted kid can say the same, however.
Getting back to Anne Tyler's book at hand, though... Her characters are so ridiculously annoying, it was hard for me to keep reading. I felt frustrated over matters of culture and identity that are left hanging and looking more like a trendy thing than a genuine matter of love and respect. The intriguing family is the one from whose viewpoint the story is told: an Iranian-American grandmother who carries an American passport but still feels like she's a guest in America. I wanted to know her story more than the story of her daughter's Korean adopted kid. She has more interesting things to say, is more culturally aware of herself, is more believeable and likeable. The other characters say trendy New York City-things, only they live in Baltimore, and treat adoption as another fad they're learning how to deal with. Adoption is not a fad, people. It is not something you do because the Hampton crowd is getting a five-carat, princess-shaped diamond by Fred Segel, the latest Manolo Blahnik shoes and a kid from Korea. I despise the way adoption is (not) respected by the characters who are waiting to meet their new child from Korea and giving each other advice like "try soy milk, because Asians aren't good with dairy" even when one of the Korean babies is drinking her cow's milk just fine, thank you.
Rarely do I put fiction books down without having read them cover to cover. I should do it more often, but instead I think I, as a writer, owe it to others writers to respect their work and labor long enough to give them a thorough opportunity to bring their stories alive. I regret finishing Sue Miller's book, "While You Were Gone," for the same reason that I am proud NOT to have finished Anne Tyler's book. The characters were annoying. Sue Miller's protagonist was a selfish young woman, trying to figure out herself, but without any thought or depth. I kept wanting to believe she'd get over herself, so I read that book until the end... and wanted to throw up after I closed the covers. As a rule, I try NOT to read any Oprah Winfrey "Book of the Month" picks, as Sue Miller let me down on that one.
When I was a college student, I worked for a literary agency. My boss, a wise woman, liked to compare books to eggs. If they stink from the beginning, she said, no need to eat them whole. I should listen to her advice more often and forsake reading books that I have a hard time sniffing from the beginning. And so, I DID put that book down and properly returned Anne Tyler to other fanatic prospective parents who tiptoe around answering questions, read all the books about adoption, oversensitize their kids to anything, and do all the politically correct "culture camps" for their adopted kids but check their brains at the door. Please remember: adoption is not merely a business or a dream for the parents, it's about the kids.
On to Anne Rice, whose book "Christ the Lord" I highly recommend. This is a book that teaches you something. If you like languages, which I do, stay tuned to who uses what language when speaking to whom, in what context and among which people groups. There will be times when the rabbis ask questions in Greek (in Alexandria, Eqypt); Jesus and his family speak Aramaic, the common language; and when they slide into other learned languages in the temple or at school. If you're looking to know who Jesus really is, this book reveals this: Christ is the Christ of the Gospels, and yet he was a human-boy, too.
Told from the perspective of Jesus as a child, on his journey from Alexandria home to Bethlehem and Judea, the reader will uncover a Jesus who is alive. A Jesus who is human. A Jesus who is a child and struggles to understand why his brother, James, is only annoyed by him. A Jesus who has visions that strike fear and awe, especially a particular dream of a burning temple and a beautiful, eerie angel-like creature who starts shouting and seems, in the end, more like Satan, demanding that Jesus identifies himself. A Jesus who thrills at reading the scrolls, uncovering his past history, ask questions of his uncle Cleopas, father and mother about that night in Bethlehem.
What really happened? Anne Rice's author's notes, found at the back of the book, reveal her own encounter with the Christ of the gospels, a Christ she forsake but later returned to in search of who Jesus really was and an eagerness to return to the communion table. Like her other novels of interviews, she spent countless hours reading scholarly accounts, doing research and asking everyone who Jesus really was. Was he a gay liberal who had an affair with Mary Magdalene and fathered a secret child? In the end, she discovered Christ was the Christ of the gospels, just as she had been taught to believe but never fully trusted. This book could be her thesis, then, of that Christ she discovered: someone who grew up, just like us, sometimes wanting to be alone, sometimes wanting to be in the temple to watch sacrifices and ask more questions of the rabbis, sometimes wanting only to be close to his mother, sometimes waking with hot flashes and bad dreams. And yet, this Christ was not just a human. He was the Messiah, too. He had an intimate connection with God that is discovered and fleshed out so beautifully and realistically, so humanely.
As a new, young mother, I appreciated "Christ, the Lord" most for its portrayal of Mary. It made me see her in new, refreshing ways. I could resonate with her; understand her concern for her child; see how crazy she looked to others when an angel came to visit her and she came screaming about it later that night; how awestruck she must have been to have learned, rich men come visiting her that night in Bethlehem, bearing gifts for this child; how worried she must have been for James and Jesus and their brotherly relationship -- would they ever *get* each other?
Keep in mind, though: Anne Rice's work, though based on historical research, is still fiction. So whether he actually could heal others or bring them from the dead as a child, before being baptized and the coming of the Holy Spirit to others, is still a good question to ask when reading.
If you're looking for overrated characters that put on a show and fall flat looking quite silly, read Anne Tyler's "Digging to America." If you prefer to read something that you can identity with, and yet learn so much more from, consider Anne Rice's "Christ, the Lord."
One end note: Anne Rice, when interviewed by the religion journalist Cathleen Falsani, said Johnny Depp would be a perfect Jesus, should another movie be made about Christ. Depp would bring depth and ethereal mystery to his character, I think and quite agree. What do you think?
