Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
This is another one of those books I picked up on the last day of my last travels in the US. I had been through the Barnes and Noble nearby several times, picked this up and looked at is at least a dozen times, then put it down, just not that interested. On the last day, who knows why, I bought it and stuck it in my outer pocket of my suitcase. Maybe it was the only thing I could see that would fit, I don’t know. I had rejected it so many times before.
It hasn’t even been on my night stand, the books I really really intend to read. It has been on a shelf of books I will read someday when I don’t have anything else to do. Every now and then, it caught my eye. The Zanzibar Chest was on the same shelf. . . and that turned out to be a pretty good book. So recently, after I had read some books I had to read but were a little dry, and a couple books I wanted to read which were a little light, I grabbed Water for Elephants.
That was day before yesterday. I couldn’t put it down. I had a whole list of things to get done yesterday, but once I started Water for Elephants, I was lost, totally immersed in the tawdry world of circuses, bound in the magic of the illusion and performances, mesmerized by what goes on behind the scenes to make the spectacular possible.
The main character loses his parents in a totally unnecessary car accident just as he is about to take his final exams in Veterinary Science, at Cornell University. (You might think I am throwing in too much useless detail here, but it matters.) Stunned by the triple loss of both his parents, and the discovery that they had hocked everything to the bank to fund his education, he blanks on his exams and hits the road, ending up with a second rate circus.
What is so amazing about this author is that once you start reading, you are THERE.
The above mentioned Zanzibar Chest keeps you hooked by it’s painfullness, but for both AdventureMan and myself, we never liked the author, we found him a little full of himself. It doesn’t take away from the Zanzibar Chest being a worthy read, and unforgettable read.
Water for Elephants, on the other hand, has a hero you love to love. In a world of strict boundaries, a heirarchical social structure, he manages to cross all the boundaries. He truly loves the animals, and in one scene, that love just radiates, emanates, it illuminates the book from the inside, and makes you feel light and crazy with that same sort of love, love of the whole of creation. Jakob is loyal to his friends, and loyal even to his enemies, he is sacrificial in his loyalty, and, in the end, he is vastly and abundantly rewarded for his good character.
There is something for everyone, just like a circus. Like a circus, too, it has illusions, it distracts with one hand while the trick is performed with another, there is sensuality, there is sexuality, there are photos from old circuses. There are things which could offend just about every sensibility; there is kindness, there is cruelty, justice and injustice and cosmic justice. Sometimes you just have to suspend judgement and go with the read. This is one of those books.
I would say this is one of the finest reading experiences I have had for a long time. Brava, Sara Gruen. Worth every penny.
I’ve told AdventureMan as soon as he finishes The Zanzibar Chest, he has to start Water for Elephants. I can hardly wait. It’s that good.
You can find Water for Elephants in paperback at Amazon.com for $8.37 + shipping.
Feedback
As I am chatting on the phone with AdventureMan, he brings up the blog.
“I don’t get it,” he says, “You get like fifty-seven comments on any article about the Qatteri Cat, and you get NO comments on a perfectly wonderful article like the Lemba and their DNA link to the lost tribes of Israel!”
I just laugh. I’ve gotten used to it.
“Months from now I will get a letter from some academic who has been looking for that article and can’t find it,” I tell AdventureMan. “And months from now, that article will still be getting hits while the Qatteri Cat entry is long forgotten.”
Chatting with my Mom on the phone, this morning, she mentioned how she was working out in the water these days, trying to build strength in her legs and knees and hips, and how when she gets discouraged she thinks of the entry on The Magic Bullet and how she really does feel better and have more energy when she finishes. I’m so proud of my Mom. She is 84, living on her own, and had one of her old best friends as a houseguest this weekend, and they attended a fashion show in which my sister Sparkle was modeling. They had a great time. I can only hope to be as fit and active as my Mom when I am her age, and, God willing, still living on my own.
This morning I got an e-mail from Kuwaiti Woman / Dirty Dinar letting her regular commenters know she is back in the blog world once again. I am so glad she wrote to us – I had deleted her from my list of favorites when so much time went by without an entry. Her blog is about the great adventure of learning to manage your own money. She is a very courageous woman, lets us in on all her failures as well as her successes, and because she does not spare herself, she is totally addictive. Who hasn’t had to make tough financial decisions from time to time that blow the budget?
These feedbacks – and the wonderful, additive feedback of your comments – are what keep this blogger going.
Yes, I am having fun. How cool is it knowing your own Mom copied out the recipe for Penny Carrot Salad? How cool is it learning that there are Arab wolves in the desert, and that they are in danger of extinction because they are interbreeding with feral dogs ( R’s comment on Total Crack Up) This blog has made me feel connected in Kuwait, and connected to like-minded people around the world.
I still protect my anonymity, and at the same time, I have a realistic fear that I am getting closer and closer to the day when one of my good friends will look at me sharply and say “I think you are blogging. Are you Intlxpatr?” I don’t know what I will do when that happens. I’m not a good liar, and why would I want to lie to a friend? I just don’t know how long I can expect to keep my identity a secret.
Turning into a Kuwaiti
We were lingering over the last bites of dessert and coffee in our favorite French restaurant when one phone rang and after a brief conversation, my friend turned to the rest of us and said “We have to get home. That was Anwar saying another storm had rolled in.”
We had all known it was a possibility, but wanted to take the chance to get together anyway. It was one of those rare occasions when our husbands were out of town, we could eat at a restaurant WE liked that they didn’t, we could get together and not worry about when we were getting home. We flurried out, I quickly dropped off my friends and headed home.
The streets were relatively quiet and the traffic relatively slow. I found myself thinking about the evening and how far I have come, living in Kuwait. I’m driving at night, and I don’t even feel a surge of fear-filled adrenalin, I’m driving in a sandstorm going ho-hum, just need to get home, and I’ve just had a great evening with female friends.
And I thought “I’m turning into a Kuwaiti woman.”
The West is so couple oriented. I remember when I was living near my parents in Seattle, and my husband was overseas, I hated Sundays; Sundays seemed like couples’ day to me – couples/families go to church, go to breakfast, go out shopping. Mostly on Sunday I would go to church, go to breakfast with a bunch of church friends and then go home, spend the rest of the day reading the Sunday paper and working on projects. If I were out and about, I would only be reminded how lonely I was, how I was missing a piece, I was incomplete.
In the Gulf, most of the social life is segregated – women go to women’s things, men go to men’s things, families do family things. Things are changing, but there isn’t a lot of “married-people-having-dates-with-their-own-spouses going on. Women go to engagement parties, wedding parties, condolence calls, they go shopping, they meet up at restaurants, they get together in one another’s houses. Men meet up at the diwaniyya, a local shisha cafe, they visit their extended family, they hang out and play cards, they race along the streets. The great circle called men’s social life intersects with the great circle called women’s social life intersect only rarely.
And here I am, meeting up for dinner with my female friends, and driving home alone at night through a sandstorm. Yep. I am definitely turning into a Kuwaiti.
A Love of Colors
A friend who shares a love of both colors and words sent this quiz to me this morning, challenging me to match them up WITHOUT using a dictionary to see how many I got right. I thought I only missed two, but I missed four. This is challenging even for native English speakers. I know some of you will know at least one, because when I looked it up, it was a Persian word! Have fun, and let us know how you did. And which work do you like best?
“So Many Christians!”
My Kuwaiti friend was shaking his head in disbelief. He had been to the old city to pay a condolence call on a Friday, and happened by the Lighthouse compound near the Sheraton circle on a Friday morning, just as some of the services were getting out.
“I had NO idea!” he looked at me in absolute amazement.
I just laughed. When we first got here, we attended church on that compound; our church moved off only months ago, when the road construction work got seriously under way and parking increasingly became a problem. It was the most amazing experience on earth – there were the Indian Men’s Catholic services and the Philipine Evangelical service and the rock-music evangelical service and the staid Anglican services and the family Philipine Catholic services and . . . well, you get the picture. There are an amazing number of expatriate Christians in Kuwait. At any one time on the compound, there are about twelve different services going on, and no sooner does one finish and the participants exit, than the new group is coming in.
Now, churches meet all over Kuwait. They met in villas, they meet in schools, they meet in every neighborhood. Today, in our church, we asked for blessings on Kuwait, on the Emir and his family, and those in leadership positions in Kuwait. We prayed for the leaders of all the countries in our congregation (English, Irish, Scottish, South African, Chinese, Indian, Nigerian, Kenyan, Dutch, Egyptian, Ethiopian, American, Australian {I have forgotten a few, I am sure} . . . lots and lots of blessings!) Most of all, we thank God for the freedom to worship in Kuwait.
(This is not our church in Kuwait. This is the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, in Jerusalem. I was looking for a church that looked more Middle Eastern than Western, and this is what I could find!)
Our pastor also has a blog, q8bridge about which he says “The purpose of this blog is to enable a bridge to be built between Christians and Muslims, especially those living in Kuwait. Through questions and dialogue we hope to promote deep friendships and mutual understanding.”
He examines the beliefs we have in common, and where we differ, and some of the reasons why we differ. I urge you to have a look.
History of Architecture in Old Kuwait City (3)
I am quoting so much from Saleh Abdulghani Al-Mutawa. Architect, that you may think you don’t need to run out and buy the book but I assure you, I am only sharing with you a few of the gems I found within. The author has done so much research with such loving attention that the book is full of treasure, every page offers something worthy.
The Year of Demolish
It is a sad memorial in Kuwait’s history. In Rajab 1289 A.H. (i.e. in the middle of the nineteenth century), heavy rains accompanied by severe winds hit the old Kuwait city, and demolished most of the mud houses. Sea waves went high and hit and wrecked ships. It was a disaster for Kuwaitis.
A second natural disaster took place in Kuwait on 30 November 1954 when heavy rains fell and demolished houses and forced 18,000 Kuwaitis to seek refuge in newly built schools. Houses built of mud and a little cement were severely affected, while houses built of rock were not affected.
My Kuwait friends – tonight, instead of going out in your cars, stay home! Sit with your grandparents and ask them about the house they grew up in. Ask them about the meals they cooked. Ask them about the heavy rains, so heavy that they could destroy houses and force 18,000 Kuwaitis to abandon their homes and go stay in schools. These are amazing stories – learn your stories from your grandparents . . . and then come tell us all the stories in your own blogs. If you don’t have a blog, or if you want to share here, you are welcome.
Some of my Kuwait friends ask why I care more about these things than the Kuwaitis. First – my Kuwaiti friends care. In my country, we call these people “the silent majority.” Every now and then the majority energizes and asserts itself. Kuwaitis care. Change is happening, it happens slowly. Keep the faith.
Second – I live here. I may not be Kuwaiti, but I care about the places where I live. If God has placed me here, I trust that he has his reasons, and it is my obligation to him to learn as much as I can and to serve – wherever he may place me. He placed me in Kuwait.
Tomorrow I will print my very favorite part of this book – where it describes family living. Meanwhile, run out and buy your own copy. There is so much I am not covering. This book is a part of your heritage.
Saudi Men Arrested for Flirting
This is in today’s BBC News.
Saudi men arrested for ‘flirting’
Relations between the sexes outside marriage is against the law
Prosecutors in Saudi Arabia have begun investigating 57 young men who were arrested on Thursday for flirting with girls at shopping centres in Mecca.
The men are accused of wearing indecent clothes, playing loud music and dancing in order to attract the attention of girls, the Saudi Gazette reported.
They were arrested following a request of the Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice.
The mutaween enforce Saudi Arabia’s conservative brand of Islam, Wahhabism.
Earlier in the month, the authorities enforced a ban on the sale of red roses and other symbols used in many countries to mark Valentine’s Day.
The ban is partly because of the connection with a “pagan Christian holiday”, and also because the festival itself is seen as encouraging relations between the sexes outside marriage, punishable by law in the kingdom.
You can read the whole article HERE.
I wonder . . . is this what is going to happen in Kuwait? So like they segregate the university. . . then they segregate all the schools, EVEN THE PRIVATE SCHOOLS, so there is no choice. . . then they start patrolling the malls?
I lived in Saudi Arabia, and I remember the mutawaaeen were NOT police, but sometimes they took on the prerogatives of the police. So I have to wonder, like who made the arrest in the malls? Was it the police? Was it the mutawa hitting the boys with their little sticks? Did they call the boys parents? I have SO many questions!
Founder or Flounder?
“Ummm, errrr. . . .is her campaign foundering or floundering?” I asked my very-intelligent-almost-a-doctor friend and she matter of factly and crisply said that it could be either, her campaign may be gasping and dying like a fish out of water, or approaching failure.
Don’t you wish you knew all those things? I do. I have to look them up all the time.
Founder has a lot of meanings. The one I was looking for is in bold type:
founder
n 1: inflammation of the laminated tissue that attaches the hoof
to the foot of a horse [syn: {laminitis}]
2: a person who founds or establishes some institution; “George
Washington is the father of his country” [syn: {beginner},
{founding father}, {father}]
3: a worker who makes metal castings
v 1: fail utterly; collapse; “The project foundered” [syn: {fall through}, {fall flat}, {flop}]
2: sink below the surface
3: break down, literally or metaphorically; “The wall
collapsed”; “The business collapsed”; “The dam broke”;
“The roof collapsed”; “The wall gave in”; “The roof
finally gave under the weight of the ice” [syn: {collapse},
{fall in}, {cave in}, {give}, {give way}, {break}]
4: stumble and nearly fall; “the horses foundered”
Flounder also has a lot of meanings:
A fish with a flattened body adapted for life on the seafloor.
http://www.reefed.edu.au/glossary/f.html
i) A small edible flatfish, ii)any small flatfish of the family Pleuronectidae or Bothidaes.
http://www.mi.mun.ca/mi-net/terms/nautical.htm
from flounce and founder
encyclopedia.kids.net.au/page/li/List_of_portmanteaus
a flat, bony saltwater fish which lives in bays and coastal waters. They are carnivores eating shrimp, small fish and crabs and are eaten by larger fish. Flounder is considered a popular food fish for people. …
http://www.lakeland.k12.in.us/limabrighton/nctrip07/glossary.html
stagger: walk with great difficulty; “He staggered along in the heavy snow”
any of various European and non-European marine flatfish
behave awkwardly; have difficulties; “She is floundering in college”
wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
Flounder are flatfish that live in ocean waters ie., Northern Atlantic and waters along the east coast of the United States and Canada, and the Pacific Ocean, as well. The name “flounder” refers to several geographically and taxonomically distinct species. …
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flounder
Flounder is an Disney character that appeared in Disney’s The Little Mermaid. He is Ariel’s best friend. Ironically, he is not a flounder, but is more similar in appearance to a Regal Tang or similar fish.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flounder (The Little Mermaid)
I guess I can use either floundering or foundering, but now that I think of it, floundering will always remind me of a big flat fish, so I think I will try to think of founder.
A Man and His Dog
A good friend sent me this today – I think you have to be a pet lover to get the full effect, and I totally love it.
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as
he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, ‘Excuse me, where are we?’
‘This is Heaven, sir,’ the man answered.
‘Wow! Would you happen to have some water?’ the man asked.
‘Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.’
The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
‘Can my friend,’ gesturing toward his dog, ‘come in, too?’ the traveler asked.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.’
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
‘Excuse me!’ he called to the man. ‘Do you have any water?’
‘Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there, come on in.’
‘How about my friend here?’ the traveler gestured to the dog.
‘There should be a bowl by the pump.’
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.
The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
‘What do you call this place?’ the traveler asked.
‘This is Heaven,’ he answered.
‘Well, that’s confusing,’ the traveler said. ‘The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.’
‘Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s hell.’
‘Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?’
‘No, we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.’
Sue Monk Kidd: Mermaid Chair
It took me a long time to buy this book, and an even longer time to read it. I kept reading the description, and I didn’t like it at all. But it kept popping up on the “recommended for you” list on Amazon, and I had this inner feeling that I was meant to read it, even if I didn’t particularly care to.
After treating myself to Leon and Bowen, I thought now was the time.
At first I found The Mermaid Chair a little Anne Rivers Siddon-ish – and I like Anne Rivers Siddons, and I don’t like imitations, which this felt like. And I thought to myself “Anne Rivers Siddons does it better.”
I kept reading, though. The book was intriguing, and I wanted to know what happened next.
Sue Monk Kidd wrote another book I really liked called The Secret Life of Bees in which I learned a lot about bees, and found the story wonderfully redemptive.
Sue Monk Kidd and Anne Rivers Siddons also share a love of the mystical, and the mystical in religion, and the mystical in human relationships, and the mystical in the sisterhood of women, all of which I find fascinating, and parts of which I would like to believe myself.
In this book, there is a lot going on. The main character is feeling stagnant and small, and invisible in her marriage. Her daughter has left for college, and she is oddly unable to find things in life to interest her. Then, her mother cuts off her finger, her mother’s friends call her to come to Egret Island, and she finds herself suddenly caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and torments that she can barely understand.
She has avoided returning to her Egret Island home to avoid the pain of her father’s death when she was 12, and her mother’s decent into moodiness and madness. She returns, meets a monk and falls in love, copes badly with her mother’s demons, and fights her way through her own personal crisis.
Sue Monk Kidd makes it all work. The work floats with artistic references; Gaugain, Matisse, Chagall, their mysterious, delightful women in particular float throught this book in Mermaid guises, and our heroine, Jessie Sullivan, discovers her own mermaid-within.
I won’t say that this is the best book I have ever read – it isn’t. I will say that I loved reading it. I loved the feel of living on Egret Island, with the tides and the birds and the small town friends, the local dog, the raininess and windiness of it all. I feel like I was there. I know the graveyard, I know the winding paths, I know those little golf carts everyone uses to get around. I know what it’s like to have to take a ferry to get to the mainland, I know the tidal currents of life’s more overwhelming moments.
As our Jessie binds her marriage back together, she says this:
Each day we pick our way through unfamiliar terrain. Hugh and I did not resume our old marriage – that was never what I wanted, and it was not what Hugh wanted either – rather we laid it aside and began a whole new one. Our love is not the same. It feels both young and old to me. It feels wise, as an old woman is wise after a long life, but also fresh and tender, something we must cradle and protect. We have become closer in some ways, the pain we experienced weaving tenacious lines of intimacy, but there is a separateness as well, the necessary distance. . . . .
I tell him, smiling, that it was the mermaids who brought me home. I mean, to the water and the mud and the pull of the tides in my own body. To the solitary island submerged so long in myself, which I desperately needed to find. But I also try to explain they brought me home to him. I’m not sure he understands any more than I do how belonging to myself allows me to belong more truly to him. I just know it’s true.”
This is a good read. It’s worth its reputation, it’s worth picking up and reading through. While some might think it’s very much a chick book, I suspect men reading it might also find a lot with which to identify. You can find this book at Amazon.com (disclosure: yes, I own shares in Amazon) for about $11.20.
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