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LitPicks - July '07
A Lighter Touch | Wonderfully
Written | Great Works
Title aside, this is no walk in the woods. The AT is unexpectedly, gaspingly rugged. The men, with 40 pounds on their backs, begin their journey at the southern-most tip of the 2,100-mile trail, which stretches from Georgia to Maine. Bryson eventually finds his stride, but his friend Katz struggles every step of the way, usually a good 45 minutes behind. Katz is the butt of much of the humor: he’s whiney, inept, usually hungry, sometimes devious, but always loyal. Interspersed with frustrations over Katz and his own obsessive fear of disease and wild beasts, Bryson provides valuable lessons in history, geology, botany, zoology, meteorology, and bureaucratic failures. He’s a "walking" encyclopedia and endlessly fascinating. Some have commented that Bryson’s jeremiads on politics, commercialism, and rural southerners are unreasonable and unfair. They may be right, but Bryson’s love for wild spaces is genuine. What he fears most is the glacial-like inevitability of sprawl encroaching on these precious spaces. It’s hard to blame a man for his passions—or find fault with his fears. top of page The story follows the plight of two Afghan boys. Raised without mothers, the two were fed at the same nursemaid’s breast, creating a bond of brotherhood that was to last a lifetime. Of course it doesn’t. The story hinges on Amir’s eventual betrayal of Hassan, whose father is the family servant. Years later, when living in the U.S., Amir receives a call to return home, where he must atone for the past—and find a way to regain his basic goodness. The first third of the book gives us a world of enchantment. We see Afghanistan in the 1960's and early '70’s, a long-lost land of brilliant skies and lushly cultivated gardens. Once the storyline moves to the U.S., the book takes a more prosaic turn. Amir’s father, formerly a comanding figure, is sadly diminished. And Amir’s inner struggle—which makes the earlier chapters so compelling—gets put on hold. Still, we're given an intriguing glimpse into traditional family rituals as Amir courts and marries a young Afghan, also in exile. Unfortunately for readers, the story hits a wall on page 202. With a single revelation, the narrative becomes contrived and heavy-handed with coincidence. The story ends well, as you certainly want it too, though I wish Hosseini had taken more care. Yet despite my bickering, this book is easy to love and hard to put down. It’s particularly apt given all that is happening in Afghanistan today—a reminder of how easily lives and societies are shattered by the brutality of war. Don’t miss this one. top of page Granted, Huck Finn is a ripping good “escape story”—a young boy and run-away slave make their way by raft down the Mississippi toward freedom. Along the way they meet up with all sorts of adventure and an array of flamboyant characters, mostly shady but a few honest. Jim, the slave, is the moral center of the book—while every fool, hypocrite and criminal met along the way is white. Young Huck struggles mightily with his divided conscience. On one hand, he is profoundly aware of Jim’s humanity and nobility; he understands the depth of their friendship and loyalty to one another. On the other hand, Huck’s society not only condones slavery, but preaches that abetting an escaped slave would send Huck straight to hell. The book takes aim not at religion, but at religion practiced falsely. |
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