Echoes

The Echo Maker by Richard Powers

A young man swerves off a straight country road and into a coma. Three sets of tire tracks and an anonymous note on the table next to his hospital bed are all that remains to tangibly tell the tale. Human drama interplays with nature, set against the backdrop of an influx of migrating cranes in small town Nebraska. A thoughtful and lyrical examination of consciousness and the power of the brain to deceive and conceive reality. The novel is peppered with tales of the brain's foolery, patients recovering from trauma who do not recognize their own body parts, or are unable to recognize faces, or cannot form new memories.

"Back in the waiting room, she witnesses eight middle-aged men in flannel standing in a ring, their eyes slow scanning the floor. A murmur issued from them, wind teasing the lonely screens of a farmhouse. The sound rose and fell in waves. It took her a moment to realize: a prayer circle, for another victim who'd come in just after Mark. A makeshift Pentecostal service, covering anything that scalpels, drugs and lasers couldn't. The gift of tongues descended on the circle of men, like small talk at a family reunion. Home was the place you never escape, even in a nightmare."

Nominated for a Pulitzer in 2007 and Winner of the National Book Award in 2006, this novel captivated me for several days. I kept thinking of my friend, a newly graduated Occupational Therapist who has been working on the various units of a busy downtown hospital. The brain is a mysterious thing and how difficult it must be to assess and work with those who have experienced such life altering trauma. My one criticism, is that each central character spirals into their own self absorbed reality, where even the most selfless act achieves a narcissistic goal. Their respective grasps on reality seem tenuous at best. Perhaps this is the point.

I may as well quickly mention two other books I've been meaning to return to the library! I had planned on attending my meditation class this afternoon, however it has been rescheduled. I recently learned that there are allegations that this type of yoga meditation is in fact linked to a cult. Wonderful. No, No. Listening to tinkly Indian music, sitting until your ass aches, trying not to think, and being reduced to a near sleeping like state does not a cult make.

P.G Wodehouse. Comforting read in the manner of Agatha Christie with more chirades and chuckles. Suprising little quips about life and love. A clever narrative voice. Strong female characters, though sometimes they are perhaps a simple mockery...considering the era, plays on gender or? I really should look it up.

"I can't stand brave men," said Jane, "it makes them so independent. I could only love a man who would depend on me in everything. Sometimes, when I have been roughing it out in the jungle," she went on rather wistfully, "I have had my dreams of some gentle clinging man who would put is hand in mine and tell me his poor little troubles and let me pet and comfort him and bring the smiles back to his face. I'm beginning to want to settle down. After all there are other things for a woman to do in this life besides travelling and big-game hunting. I should like to go to Parliament. And, if I did that I should practically have to marry. I mean, I should have to have a man look after the social end of life and arrange parties and receptions and so on and sit ornamentally at the head of my table. I can't imagine anything jollier than marriage under conditions like that. When I come back a bit done up after a long sitting at the House, he would mix me a whiskey and soda and read poetry to me or prattle on about all the things he had been doing during the day....Why it would be ideal!"


I can't help but read this as a mockery of the things men used to expect of marriage from women. Ha. As if anyone needs that.



First published in the U.S. in 1949 this is a classic written by one of the major Finnish writers of the 20th century: Mika Waltari. The tale of Sinu, a doctor from birth to death during a time of religious and political strife (the latter part of the 18th dynasty of the New Kingdom, 1386-1293 B.C.E.). This doctor become disillusioned with humanity and scornful of war. These themes had resonance during World War II when it was conceived and helped propel it to acclaim. An epic read and a bit of a struggle for myself to reach the end...I tend to have a hard time reading books that end in the later years of someone's life...you know how it will end. Shocking in it's gore at times...the work of embalmers, soldiers, brain surgery, temple priests...These were bloody times. I just noticed on Wikipedia that this novel was first published in Finnish in 1945 and in 1949 an abridged English edition was published. Oh dear, my copy was abridged?

Strawberry Fields

Strawberry Fields: A Novel by Marina Lewycka

This was my little splurge for the 30 hour trip back. However, I ended up reading a tattered '80's paperback family saga that my grandmother passed along. I never can focus on anything serious when I'm flying. Lewyka won great acclaim for her previous work, A Short History of Tractors in the Ukraine (nominated for the Orange and Booker Awards) - That is the book that I indeed wished to purchase a few days before my departure. But this was her only title in stock. This tale focuses on the lives of a group of migrant workers in England from Eastern Europe, China and Africa as they flee a bad situation. Some fall by the wayside, recruited into jobs by corrupt middlemen that sound too good to be true... middlemen that hold the passports of the women they sell into prostitution. Sounds serious? Well, those stories are merely mentioned and the stories become central are the ones with more hope and elements of stubborn pride, redemption, humour and a touch of romance.

One character reflects after the horror of working in the filth and gore of a chicken factory...

"Is he freer here in the West today than he was in Poland in the years of communism, when all he dreamed about was freedom, without even knowing what it was? Is he really any freer than those chickens in the barn, packed here in this small stinking room with five strangers, submitting meekly to a daily horror that has already become routine? Tormentor and tormented, they are all just damned creatures in hell. There must be a song in this."

And later on the same page, we touch base with another character and the tone changes entirely:

"Yola was in a foul mood. She had discovered that morning, don't ask how, that the Slovak women who shared their hotel room had no pubic hair. How could this be permitted? Presumably they were not born this way, but acquired it in the natural course of things, and had taken steps to remove it. There are many bad things that can be said about communism, but one thing is for certain, in communist times women did not abuse their pubic hair in this way - a practice that is unnatural, unsightly, undignified, and, without being to specific, potentially dangerous."

The characters are rich and believable in all their messiness. The story itself may be a bit unevenly paced and sometimes stretches the believable. But the essential humanity and struggle of diverse people all seeking something far from home strikes a chord. All sides of human nature, the selfish and the selfless, the romantic and the vulgar, Lewyka spins a good yarn.

Settling In

It's been a tumultuous first few weeks back. The Supple Scientist and I have been waiting for all sorts of news...conferences, resident permits, research proposals. Big stuff that will define the next few months.

Upon arrival I began filling my days with little projects and errands and baking (yes, BAKING - that is NOT me) Of course the baking was born of homesickness. Finding food is a monumental task for me, a picky semi-vegetarian, at the best of times...but add to that a teeny tiny oven, limited crockery, and food package ingredient lists, nutritional info. and directions for use in a foreign language...I'm not complaining, these are just the challenges. Not to mention my recipe books are in imperial and my measuring cups/oven is in metric and so baking and cooking involves more math than it reasonably should! I began yearning for something...the next thing I knew I busy baking mom's apple crisp. Ahhh, the aroma of cinnamon and a warm crumbly bite of home. I took a step back and said, "It's only been three weeks since you left the cloistered realm of mom, dad, brothers, grandma (the coolest woman in the world) and best friends...go easy on yourself. Curl up with a good book and count your blessings. The pet bunny made it here and that's a very major blessing. She's an EU citizen now. There are benefits to that for her future travel! So while the following list may seem to be comprised of several negative incidents and one positive, these are just the things that I found interesting enough to relate. Many good things happen each day. Rest assured.

In my first 3 weeks back:

• A young boy held up a (very realistic) toy semi-automatic and fired it at me repeatedly as I was jogging down the street towards him. It made a popping noise that startled me badly. He continued to "shoot" me all the way down the street with a frightening blank expression on his face.


• One evening we heard thumping on the roof outside our windows. I walked to the window and pulled the curtain open and before me was a naked man prancing around holding a bottle of beer. Our neighbour.


• We called the police for the first time. At 3 am one night, I awoke to loud shouting and pounding in the hall. Someone was kicking one of the doors in our hall. These two men were also screaming. I wish I knew what they were saying. It was frightening not knowing the situation. The next day we got an apology note. From. Our. Neighbour. (I had bad neighbours in Canada, why not here? Although, once upon a time I had a lovely senior lady next door who watered my plants for me whenever I went out of town and chatted up anyone who knocked on my door).


• I attended an English Comedy night. The Finnish comedians were great (except for the one that did all the punch lines in Finnish). The show featured an extremely crude guest comedian from Canada. I have never been so embarrassed to be Canadian. Enough said.


• I listened to my first sermon from a female pastor. Actually, my first sermon from a Finnish pastor. Actually, my first Lutheran sermon. Rock on.