Monthly Archives: February 2014

More Good Books, Part 4

Here are some recommended titles from my recent reading list.  As always, it’s a mixed bag of literary novels and more plot-driven stories. 

Claire of the Sea Light, by Edwidge Danticat

51xRG6vIckL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-62,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_Of all the books I’ve read recently, this is hands down my favorite of this batch.  The writing is luminous, textured, and rich.  Though much of the book is dark and tragic, light is woven through it in beautiful and surprising ways that provide ballast to the heavy undercurrents.  The Claire of the title is a young girl being raised by her widowed fisherman father; theirs is one of several intermingled stories featuring various characters whose lives hang in the balance between despair and hope.  Based in Danticat’s native Haiti, this is a tale in which poverty and violence live side by side with tenderness, splendor, and love.

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

41rs2F2PGKL._SL160_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-dp,TopRight,12,-18_SH30_OU01_AA160_Where to even begin with this ambitious, enormous wild ride of a book?  It’s big, it’s bold, and it’s a great read – no question of that and it’s easy to understand why it was shortlisted for the National Book Award.  I’ve heard it described at Catcher in the Rye for the 21st century, which sort of works, and as a post 9/11 novel, which also makes sense.  But it’s much more than either of those descriptions.  It’s a coming-of-age story under unusual circumstances in an unfair and uncertain world, a trip through adolescence and the long road out into adulthood on the part of a character who’s had more than his fair share of trials and tribulations. The characters are wonderfully drawn, quirky and compellingly real, as is the plot. There’s heartache and love, drugs and kindness, cruelty and fear, generosity and violence.  This book has it all in abundance.  Not everything in the plot is completely plausible, but on the other hand much of it is extremely believable, familiar, and masterfully narrated.  Whatever its flaws, when this novel ended it was hard to say goodbye to those who peopled its pages.

Someone by Alice McDermott

51528A-xhvL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-63,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_This spare and elliptical novel is the winner of the National Book Award.  The main character is an Irish-American woman growing up in Brooklyn.  The segments of narration about this ordinary life go back and forth in time, from early childhood to old age and back again, looping in and out.  The writing is compelling but never soft or sentimental.  The very averageness of the life described within is what is extraordinary about this book – there are no surprises, no secrets, no out-of-character acts, just the stark elegance of a life lived through one breath to another, through one relationship to another, through one time to another.  Some moments in particular stand out in their unadorned clarity as the character grows and develops and circles back in time.  Despite the seeming ordinariness of the tale, McDermott makes her character someone indeed, and makes us care about her.

The Position by Meg Wolitzer

51lEZ1Yf50L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-67,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_This isn’t Wolitzer’s newest novel, but it sounded promising.  At the center is the wonderfully and ironically named Mellow.  The Mellow parents are the authors of the famous (or infamous, depending on your perspective) ground-breaking book Pleasuring: One Couple’s Journey, sort of a fictionalized version of The Joy of Sex, which was explored one fateful afternoon in the 70’s by their four childrenThe plot revolves around the impact of this book on the family of six, and the ways in which the ripple effects shaped the life of all of them in different ways during the next decades.  There are many questions here about what it is to be a parent, how much parents can and should pursue their personal (and physical) passions and at what cost to their children, and how much children’s sense of self is based on what they see modeled by their parents? Like many of Wolitzer’s novels, the writing veers between empathetic and pitiless.  She looks honestly at her characters and their flaws, while caring for them deeply and making us care about them.

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie by Ayana Mathis

51Yo2tv2UWL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-62,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_This absorbing tale portrays the struggle of a family over time, centered around the main character of Hattie, the mother of this large clan.  Each section tells of a different family member, spanning from the early 1920’s to 1980.  Hattie is a product of the Great Migration that brought Southern blacks to the North in the quest for a better life.  The various members of her family are beautifully brought to life as complex and nuanced individuals as they struggle with heartbreak, disappointment, and the search for an authentic self.

Stella Bain by Anita Shreve

51+fYG6Ri5L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-67,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_If you want something fast and engaging that doesn’t ask too much of you as a reader, this is a great choice. Shreve is a great story-teller, able to create intriguing situations and characters we want to know better. This plot-driven book is about a woman who loses her memory on the battlefield during World War I, and her search for both her memory and what is hers. Slowly she becomes empowered and a happy ending is in sight, with all the loose ends nicely tied up.

The Last Runaway by Tracy Chevalier

51QuqhWCxtL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-64,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_This book of historical fiction is another quick but satisfying read.  The main character is a young Quaker Englishwoman who comes to Ohio at her sister’s side.  Things turn out far from expected, and her Quaker beliefs are put to many tests, in particular regarding slavery and the Underground Railroad.  The history of quilting also plays an interesting role in the story.

 

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Instagram as a Spiritual Practice

IMG_1292Before my identity as Rabbi, there was my identity as Photographer.  For many years now my days (and nights) have been filled with words – the reading, writing, interpreting, and editing thereof.  But there was a long period when photography was at the center of my place in the world. 

I became a photographer in high school and photography remained at the center of my experience in college as well.  After college I worked in the photo lab and visual department at Kiryat Moriah in Jerusalem, and then studied photography at Camera Obscura in Tel Aviv.  Though I had had stray thoughts about rabbinic school since age 10, they stayed on the back burner and I returned to New York to for graduate school in Fine Arts in a program specializing in photography.

IMG_1308I loved printing almost as much as I loved the taking of photographs: the smells, the equipment, the math, the artistry, the power to coax forth magic out of shadows and percentages of light.  And I loved it equally – the hands-on aspect of black and white printing on rich, velvety matte stock, and the more mechanized color printing, turning dials to achieve evocative, deeply saturated yellows and blues, creating drama and stories from shades and hues.  Photography was a language I understood, a way of speaking truth into the world. 

IMG_1234The program offered only one class in digital, this being 1988-1992, and none of us took it seriously.  We were studying with master printers and artists – digital photography seemed irrelevant, even boorish.  But when I got pregnant with my first child, I stopped printing.  Worried about the toxicity of the chemicals, I stepped out of the darkroom and never went back in. Around the same time I made the decision to apply to rabbinic school.  Photography receded into the background.  Between school and my children and working, I had little free time to begin with, and what spare time I had cam to be used for writing.  Writing required no equipment (other than a computer) or chemicals, and could be done at any hour of the day or night.  There were no chemicals to buy, no darkroom time to rent, or schedules to work out.  

IMG_0785For years my photography has been limited to family pictures and shots that could be used in books I was editing.  I have never taken the time to learn Photoshop – I rely on the designers I work with to do that for me.  That girl rollerblading on Yom Atzmaut in the curriculum about Israel? That’s my photograph.  The plate of kubbe in the Jewish history textbook?  That’s mine.  The photo of a family on the cover of a book about synagogues? Yup, mine.  The photos used for the posts on RavBlog – yes, often those are mine too. 

Eventually I made the switch to digital because, after all, it’s so much easier and more practical.   And then about eight months ago my son encouraged my to try Instagram.  It sounded like a silly waster of time – why in the world would I need one more form of social media?

IMG_0794Turns out he was on to something.  Through this silly app called Instagram, I’ve found a way, however circumscribed, to reconnect to photography.  The filters give me some small amount of control over the image – not like when I did my own printing, but more than I’ve been able to achieve for a while. 

These photos I’m taking on Instagram have been a way to re-access visual language.   But actually it’s more than just that.  These little squares of images enable me to express a form of  spontaneous awe and gratitude.  They’re my modah ani – a daily reminder that life can be beautiful and sweet, and that I have much to be thankful for.

These beautiful sunsets, the snow on the tree in front of my house, or the sunflower at the farmer’s market verge on cliché – I know that.  They’re IMG_1083not the masterpieces that I aspired to in art school.  These cell phone lacks the mastery of photos taken on my battered old manual Nikon or Leica.  But they have become a way of reclaiming my old practice of experiencing the world visually, while also enabling me to savor splendor. 

I have much to be grateful for, and my struggles are certainly fewer than those of many, many others.  Yet life constantly surprises all of us with challenges that lay heavy on our souls. Sometimes it’s hard to look beyond the everyday pain or the quotidian slog of living. Like everyone, I have my share of stress and worry and heartache.

IMG_1325My Instragram images are my form of Heshel’s radical amazement, a visual response to the daily blessings.  It’s an easy and do-able way, within the parameters of my life, to truly see the world.  Wherever I am, and whatever I’m doing, if beauty or wonder jump outs at me, I can respond.  These photos have become part of a spiritual practice that grounds me and reminds me that not all is difficult, not all is complicated – that joy and amazement exist if I take a moment to look around me and see. 

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