On the bookshelf, #12

The Double Bind, by Chris Bohjalian
Note: This is Book #1 for me in the Spring Reading Thing Challenge 2007

Remember when you first watched the movie, The Sixth Sense, and once the reveal was made at the end, you immediately wanted to sit through it again to catch all the little clues you missed the first time?

Yeah, I didn’t have to do that. I saw all the clues in the movie the first time. In case you haven’t seen the movie, I don’t want to spoil it — but I knew what’s-his-name was you-know-what. I saw the use of that one color as a sign. I saw the lack of interaction between certain somebodies and what’s-his-name. The ending didn’t surprise me in the least.

I can’t say that about The Double Bind. I am still reeling from the ending. And I’m kicking myself that I didn’t see it coming — and as the hours tick on since I finished the last page, little instances from the book keep popping in my head, taunting me. What should have been obvious, or at least struck me as curious, were not and did not. Bravo, Mr. Bohjalian. I have never wanted to immediately re-read a book I just finished, but I do today. However, I’ll forgo that indulgence to keep making headway on my other reading challenges — but I will return. I will most definitely return.

This book also ties into the classic novel, The Great Gatsby. So I have added it to my list of books to read, which I plan to read before re-reading The Double Bind. Maybe that will help bring to light even more little nuances.

Since I don’t want to get too far into the plot, I’ll just add this passage from the Barnes & Noble Web site:

In Chris Bohjalian’s astonishing novel, nothing is what it at first seems. Not the bucolic Vermont back roads college sophomore Laurel Estabrook likes to bike. Not the savage assault she suffers toward the end of one of her rides. And certainly not Bobbie Crocker, the elderly man with a history of mental illness whom Laurel comes to know through her work at a Burlington homeless shelter in the years subsequent to the attack.

In a narrative of dazzling invention, literary ingenuity, and psychological complexity, Bohjalian engages issues of homelessness and mental illness by evoking the humanity that inhabits the core of both. … The breathtaking surprises of its final pages will leave readers stunned, overwhelmed by the poignancy of life’s fleeting truths, as caught in Bobbie Crocker’s photographs and in Laurel Estabrook’s painful pursuit of Bobbie’s past — and her own.

If you haven’t read this book, I whole-heartedly recommend it. If you have read this book, please let me know — I would love to know what you thought of it. And have you re-read it yet?

Hear ye, Hear ye

Remember this post?

Well, let’s just say…this week, the story about His Royal Nakedness hit the newstands and the CNN news crawl reports: “Nude is the New Black”.

My tongue hurts from biting it, so as to not blurt out “I TOLD YOU SO!” about eleventy-hundred times a day.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, typing while in the fetal position is a lot tricker than it sounds.

And thank you to everyone who commented on the previous post. I think I was more in shock than anything. But, I’m thinking clearer now and I know I’m not a selfish person (well, not in that regard anyway). So thank you — and for reminding me how great this little blog community we’ve created really is!

Is this the norm?

I was in a discussion today about societal norms and the expectations that are projected onto women. As a learning exercise, we were trying to assign attributes to women who conform to the ‘norm’ and those who do not.

A comment was made that ‘normal’ women are mothers. According to society, this is the accepted role women play and should be a natural goal of all women. (I understood the speaker to mean that even if a woman is physically unable to become a mother or otherwise kept from becoming a mother, she should still have that desire.)

Nobody in the discussion was aware that I do not have children, by the way. I think they thought everyone in the group was ‘normal’.

I then asked the question that if mothers are ‘normal’ women, what do we call women, either by choice or limitation, are not mothers.

Without hesitation, the answer came back.

Selfish.

I didn’t ask if being a mother and being selfish are mutually exclusive. I’m not sure I could have handled the response. I don’t even know how to process what I was given.

But I can’t stop crying about it either.

Oh, so close

I did my taxes on Sunday. Three l-o-n-g hours of arduous data entry, answering all the little questions that happened to pop into Mr. TurboTax’s brain. (I do love a man who wants to know so much about me though. Makes me feel so loved.)

At the end of the process, after having checked, rechecked, electronically signed, and e-filed, Mr. TurboTax asked if I would like some tips on how to have an even better refund next year. The man does know a way to a girl’s heart, I must say.

So of course, I said yes and he showed me one of his popup windows that I knew would be full of all sorts of ideas destined to make me the Royal Dutchess of Refunds.

On the list?

Get married.

Have a child.

Whoa! When did Mr. TurboTax start channeling my dead Grandma?

Now I never claimed to be any sort of financial wizard (actually, I have — on several occasions — but for the sake of argument, let it ride) but I immediately saw two major flaws with this advice.

1. Don’t things like spouses and offspring come with a price tag? Would it really be worth the cost of, oh, I don’t know, the wedding, labor and delivery, extra mouths to feed, extra backs to clothe, schooling, emergency room visits, braces, and quite possibly, divorce lawyers, just to get a few extra shekels back on my tax return each year?

Don’t get me wrong — if you’ve already been to the altar or the delivery room, I think it’s great that you also get a little extra love from Uncle Sam each year. I harbor no resentment. But I really hope that getting married and bringing children into the world wasn’t something you decided to do because you were looking for a few extra bucks. (But if you did, I bet you’re kicking yourself now, huh?)

2. Mr. TurboTax handed out this advice on March 25. Unless he was already down on one knee, little velvet box in one hand and baby name book in the other, just how did he expect me to find a man, get to know him, accept his proposal, plan a wedding, AND give birth to a child within the 40 weeks remaining in 2007? Last I knew, a baby alone takes that long — and that’s if you’re successful the first time.

Darn, too bad I didn’t do my taxes in February, like I normally do. I coulda had a shot.

Be careful what your sponges absorb

A mother leaned over to her young son sitting beside her at the restaurant. “Now, remember, when the waiter asks, you’re 7 years old. You don’t ‘officially’ turn 8 until later tonight so it’s okay to say that. Got it?”

Her son looked at her questioningly but silently nodded his head and went back to playing with his younger sister and the friend he had invited to dinner to celebrate his birthday.

The waiter arrived a few minutes later. “And children under 8 years old can eat at the buffet for less. How many children do we have under 8 this evening?”

The mother quickly pointed to each child and said, “Seven, seven, and four.”

The little birthday boy gave his mother a furtive glance and then blurted out, “No, Mom, I’m 8. Today’s my birthday…that’s why we’re here, remember?”

The mother blushed, avoided the waiter’s eye and giggled nervously. “Oh, that’s right. Seven, eight, and four. Sorry…”

The waiter left, the mother chastised her son for not playing along until he started to cry and the little four year old girl took it all in, with eyes open wide.

And the mother was worried about the cost of dinner. I’m afraid she’ll be paying for that little lesson in integrity for some time to come.