The Wrong Kind of Woman

December - The Wrong Kind of Woman by Sarah McCraw Crow

Virginia Desmarais is the wrong kind of woman. Though I guess since the novel is set in 1970, as the feminist movement started gaining traction, it might seem like every woman was the wrong kind. The homemaker, next door to Virginia, content in her traditional role, was the wrong kind. The radical faculty women at the local college were the wrong kind, and the young woman planning bombings was the wrong kind. Virginia was trying to figure out where she fit in.

Though I lived through this era as a teenager, I always felt that I missed it. The uprisings and violence only on television and not part of my world. This novel takes us back to that era and provides a snapshot of the impact of the changes even in a town that imagines itself sheltered from the impact.

When Virginia married Oliver, she gave up some of her interests. Oliver didn't. She moved to a small New England town for his career and to raise their daughter, Rebecca. She didn’t finish her thesis. At the time, it didn’t seem like she was making sacrifices. She was doing what needed to be done for their family and for their shared life together.

When Oliver drops dead while hanging up Christmas lights, their plans fall apart as the world seems to be falling apart. The women’s movement occurred during the same time as the protests against the Viet Nam war and the draft.

As Virginia thinks about who she is now that she is no longer Oliver’s wife, she thinks back. It seems inevitable that as she tries to see her way forward without him, she would look back to who she was before she met him. Only after Oliver has died can she recognize that she gave up a part of herself so that her family could flourish.

Virginia begins to see the ease with which society has denied a voice to women. She starts to explore avenues for finishing her thesis. In a new direction, a direction that her male advisor had steered her away from years earlier. Virginia has to balance work, study, and single parenting. And she navigates these personal challenges in a setting of social unrest. On top of these concerns, Virginia has to help Rebecca process her grief for her father and deal with the teenager’s opinions and judgments about every decision her mother makes.

The Wrong Kind of Woman gives us a window into the 70s and reminds us of the violence and the unrest that was a pre-requisite to raising awareness of social injustice.

The Wrong Kind of Woman is a story about one woman’s battle to find her way during the turmoil, but it also tells a bigger story about self-acceptance and strength in facing the unknown. A good reminder that change isn’t always easy or pretty, calm, or organized. A good read for 2020.

The Paying Guests

November - The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters

I'm not sure how Sarah Waters's book came to my attention. I get emails promoting books, and I have books recommended by websites, friends, and authors. But thinking about this one, I'm not sure how it came to my attention. Without knowing too much about it, I purchased the audible version and started listening on my walks.

I really want you to have that experience with this book. So I am writing a review and not telling you a lot about the characters or the plot. One thing I will tell you is that it's 577 pages. But I only looked it up after I finished it.

If you're going to time travel back to 1922 London, it's going to take some time. Getting to know Frances Wray, her mother, and the new boarders Leonard and Lillian Barber is how Waters makes the story work. When everything is a stake, we feel their emotions.

A few times, while listening to this book, I wondered if I should have read it for myself. Not because of the narration. I thought the narrator did an excellent job. But the narrator influences how you interpret the words through their choice of inflection and tone, and sometimes I'd like to know how I would have heard the words in my own head.

The second thing I discovered about listening to Sarah Waters's book was that there were moments that I am sure I would have sped right through, but the narrator did not. Sometimes we speed-read through a section because the writing drags; that wasn't the case here. The details, the circumstances in certain scenes were so intimate or so painful; I was physically uncomfortable. That's great writing, but I am certain I would have breezed right through those sections to get to a place where I could breathe normally.

I also wanted the ability to go back and reread. Easy enough to flip back through a few pages when you're reading an actual book or even an ebook, but not so easy on audio. And to be clear, the only reason for going backward was that there were gaps between listening sessions, and I wanted to refer back to a detail.

Or go back because the writing is stunning. There were moments where I wanted to read the line again. One of my favorites: "It felt like the tired turn of the world."

Other than the way language is used, Waters does a remarkable job of not saying things. Not mentioning them so artfully that I wanted to scream at the characters. "Close the door!" "What are you doing?" The narration, at crucial moments, does not mention the danger or draw attention to it. The tension on the page (or in the headphones) is more intense for it.

This is a long book, and the story develops slowly. It requires some patience on the part of the reader, and patience is not my long suit. But the sum of the book is more startling than the parts. It's a book that creates an atmosphere for thought. It asks for introspection. The journey is more than worthwhile. By the time I finished, I wanted to read it all over again.

What the Fu 2020?

I love going places, so being grounded for the last few months has been tough. I know, on the scale of suffering, this is minor. And I am completely on board for all necessary precautions to prevent the spread of COVID-19, but didn't we all think this would be over by now?

2020 seems to be getting worse rather than better, and the pandemic feels like only a slice of it. Wildfires. Derecho. RBG. John Lewis. Chadwick Boseman. Breonna Taylor. Eric Garner. Protests. Riots. The whole SCOTUS nomination process feels like a betrayal. And I could use an escape. NOW.

Since it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere any time soon, I thought I'd spend some time remembering my last escape. My husband and I squeezed in a trip to South America in February before international travel became a thing of our past.

The six-day excursion on the Futaleufu River in Chile (The Fu for short) was magical. There are no filters on these pictures. Glacial snowmelt gives the river its amazing color, and the turquoise water makes it feel like you're rafting through a fairyland. The water was so wild some parts that we had to hike around.

About day four, we were in the inflatable kayaks on a challenging section of big water when the guide abandoned the lead to help a kayaker in front of me. Tom had gotten caught in a breaking wave and was upside down. Obviously, a necessary save, but it left me to navigate the river without anyone to follow. I lasted longer than I thought I would. But when the wave I planned to power through turned into a rock, I was swimming instead of boating. The water was moving fast and taking me with it. I didn't know what lay ahead. I visualized a waterfall plunging from a cliff straight out of Jumanji. I swam frantically for the first little pool of water out of the rapid. Then, I grabbed a rock and hung on. My husband bounced past. He wasn't in his kayak either.

In a few minutes, help appeared. Pilau, one of our guides, arrived on the shore behind me and extended his hand to pull me out of the water. Everyone was safe. But that was the end of my kayaking for the day. I paddled the rest of the river in one of the rafts with a guide.

A few days later, we hiked to Obsession Lake. The lake sits in a crater at the top of a peak near our hotel. The trail was steep and narrow. Step number 7,576 went badly. There was a loud crunch coming from my ankle. I didn't make it to the lake, but I did hike back down and hiked the next day. Six months later, that ankle still twinges when I'm in downward facing dog.

God, I miss traveling.

Stories like these are what makes for memories in our family -- who was injured in the most remote location, who had the most insect bites, and who came the closest to dying. It might not sound like fun to you, but when you're trying not to drown, there's no time to think about politics or pandemics, how the world is burning, or systemic racism, or….