Instead of counting objects and days and hours, if people would simply rub their palms together just once, and comprehend that mysterious skin to skin contact fully, their understanding of the world would be better. Or if just once they were to watch and understand the blooming of a flower or birth of a lamb, using their senses of sight and hearing and smell completely, perhaps humans would come to the conclusion that in all the days and nights of their lives, only that minute in which they are immersed is worth calculating.
-Shokoofeh Azar
The Enlightenment of the Greengage Tree is a book that deserves more than just a short blog review, as there’s so much to break down. I could probably write for hours, go off on tangents, come up with theories, etc. I won’t do that, but suffice it to say this is a book that relies very heavily on reader interpretation. What I got from this book might not match what another reader would glean, and therein lies some of the genius. Now, this is by no means a particularly new method of story-telling. It’s a heavy dose of magical realism that relies principally on Persian folklore to tell the story of a fractured family whose ability to survive is tested by the cruelty of a despotic regime.
The narrator of The Enlightenment of the Greengage Tree is the first fallen victim of the family, the 13-year-old daughter named Bahar who was killed during the Islamic Revolution of 1979 when the family home in Tehran was attacked by fighters. Following Bahar’s death, the family flees to Razan to begin anew, only to be followed shortly thereafter by the death and destruction from which they fled. Bahar exists as an omniscient figure, a ghost who is able to still interact with her family. She is immune to the physical pain and destruction inflicted upon the remaining members but still feels fully the mental and emotional anguish of witnessing their subsequent breakdown. She is as powerless as we, the reader, to halt the desperate march of time that threatens to destroy their legacy. The “enlightenment” referenced in the title is a bit tongue-in-cheek, as the enlightenment as experienced by Bahar’s mother, Roza, as she climbs to the top of the greengage tree is really nothing short of a mental breakdown brought upon by despair so deep it transports her to a new realm of unfeeling distraction. It’s a “positively Vonnegut-esque” (to quote Bridget Jones) post traumatic stress escape to Tralfamadore in a desperate attempt to forget that the world is imploding around her.
The novel is beautifully and lyrically told, blending Iranian folklore and elements of magical realism. It’s quite rich with symbolism and metaphor, bursting with it, in fact. Placing fantastical elements of mythical creatures, ghosts, and mysticism against a backdrop of persecution and the stifling of creative thought provides an interesting form of escapism in the face of the unthinkable. While they were once a family who valued knowledge and literature above all else, as they are robbed of the ability to enjoy such things we see them descend into a fantasy world that still connects them to those things they hold dear. Literature is an incredibly important theme in this novel. As a matter of fact, I became a little bit weary of the long lists of literary works that were peppered throughout the text, though I do understand their importance. It’s illustrative of what is lost in a Country like Iran during such times when the people lose their freedom to learn without restriction or fear of prosecution if caught. Many of us take for granted that we can simply go to a library or a bookstore and choose from thousands of titles regardless of their content. We celebrate banned books, and we revel in the content that raises the hackles of the would-be censors. I can talk about this book and post my thoughts for the world to see, but the translator of this novel had to remain anonymous for his or her own safety. The author had to immigrate to another country, Australia in this case, before she could even publish such words under her own name. That’s the real world many of us will never experience. That’s the power behind a book such as this, a reality that permeates even the area outside of the pages. It’s a true human story of catharsis in the face of evil.
Narratively speaking this book is told in a very disjointed fashion. It jumps around in time and can sometimes be difficult to follow. Little unrelated stories are brought in to fully illustrate the presented themes which have a tendency to pull the reader out of the main storyline only to thrust them back again a few pages later. This isn’t a linear plot. It’s a “big picture” plot where you have to place all the pieces together into a final, complete work. Unless you’re ready to do some serious thinking, you might want to skip this one. It’s short but far from simplistic.
Considering some issues I had with the narrative style, I would give this one a 4/5. It deserves a lot of credit for its flashes of brilliance and the overall tone which celebrates the power of literature in a world that doesn’t value knowledge.
Published August 17, 2017 by Wild Dingo Press. ISBN 098738130X. 268 pages.
In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, a woman by the name of Belle Gunness, a Norwegian immigrant born Brynhild Paulsdatter Storset, quietly terrorized Chicago and La Porte, Indiana. It is now thought Gunness may have been responsible for the deaths of up to 40 people. Having never been caught, much of the facts of Belle’s story are the result of speculation. 
From my own independent research into Gunness, I would say Bruce has done a pretty fabulous job of piecing together a possible historical timeline. She mostly sticks to facts as they are known for the story but she does add her own embellishments here and there. I won’t say what it is, but there is one fact to the conclusion of Belle’s story I always found so horrifying as to have difficulty believing it’s true, and Bruce explains this in a way I found believable but also retains what small shred of humanity Belle had left in my mind. 
Belle is presented as someone incapable of loving anyone the way she loves herself. However, she is able to fake it in an expert fashion. She’s the ultimate charlatan, duping literally everyone she comes into contact with save for one person who recognizes her for what she is. 
I have so much out from the library at the moment and I really need to get moving on it all. Next I’m going to pick up Radiant: The Dancer, the Scientist, and a Friendship Forged in Light by Liz Heinecke. This book is historical nonfiction and follows a unique friendship between Marie Curie and dancer and choreographer with an interest in science, Loie Fuller. I stumbled across it on the shelf and thought it looked like a fascinating piece of women’s history to which I’m not that well-versed. I hope to finish my other read and start this one tomorrow. 
Never Saw Me Comin
This year for the reading challenge, I was challenged to pick up an old favorite book from childhood. When I think about authors whose books I enjoyed as a kid, several names come to mind. Among them: Beverly Cleary (I almost chose The Mouse and the Motorcycle), Lois Lowry, and, of course, Judy Blume. I recently picked up a Judy Blume box set for my daughter at a library book sale, and I hope she’ll one day like them as much as I did. Nobody spoke to the childhood fears and anxieties like Judy Blume. Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing was one of my favorites, and I’m not really sure why. First of all, I was the younger kid, unlike Peter. And second of all, as a girl I didn’t have exactly the same experience as a 9-year-old boy. Honestly, I was probably a lot more like smarty-pants Sheila. I’m sure someone thought I was annoying and pretentious, though I didn’t run around talking about cooties all the time. Not that I remember, anyway. 
I stumbled upon this book in the overdrive app and thought the cover looked quite appealing and enigmatic. I’m glad I read it, because it was a nice engaging read, and it was very short so it served as an excellent buffer prior to me starting my current arduous journey through Charlie Kaufman’s brain in Antkind. I will warn you, this review verges slightly into the realm of the spoiler, though I do refrain from giving away anything in regard to the conclusion. But if you’re one of those readers who detests for anyone to give ANYTHING away about where the plot leads at any point, proceed with caution. 
I find myself still a bit stuck on a couple of books. Still on my hiatus from 
That being said, I’m not going to say yet whether I like Antkind, and I’m not ruling out the prospect that I could wind up loving it by the end. Perhaps Kaufman has once again pulled of a feat of philosophical brilliance that will change the modern world of literature. Or maybe I’ll want to punch him in the face. The jury is still out. 
I made literally no progress in my physical read this week, which is disappointing and not at all a reflection of the book. So I’m still reading 
I have finished and reviewed 
I’m excited to get back to Liane Moriarty next.
Synopsis excerpt from goodreads: “A profound transition is taking place in our society, a revolution that is largely hidden, and led predominantly by women. A society once based on domination and power over others is beginning to crumble as an era of cooperation and community emerges, founded on the principle that power should only be exercised with and for others. This is the inspiring, central message of this compelling narrative that weaves together the stories of sixty successful women from all walks of life and throughout the world. The author spent several years in eight countries interviewing these dynamic female role models: businesswomen, CEOs, a Congresswoman, a governor, an ex-Prime Minister, a Pulitzer Prize finalist, a Nobel Peace Prize laureate, a winemaker, artists, doctors, nurses, and many others. The author calls these women “Iron Butterflies” because they meld a will of iron with the gentle, nurturing touch of a butterfly. With disarming candor, these women talk about their struggles, their fallibilities, and their strengths in the journey to the top of their professions. Forging their leadership from an amalgam of masculine and feminine skills, all of these Iron Butterflies have transformed themselves and in doing so they are contributing to a larger social transformation…” 
It’s been a pretty banner week for me except for not being able to finish my audiobook just yet. In hard copy, I finished both The Maid’s Version, the review for which I posted just yesterday, and Drifting by Steven M. Cross. 
A Librarian and Her Books 