 Ripped Apart by a Book I’ll tell you why I can’t talk much about God's Middle Finger: Into the Lawless Heart of the Sierra Madre, which I just finished last night—it has left me more upset than any book in a long time. It's not that it's bad (writing) but it has wrenched, punched, kicked and in general torn apart my emotions, not in a good way, about class, countries, political policies, hypocrisy, cultures, political correctness, contempt, women, business both "lawful" and lawless, consumerism, desire, cruelty. And more. It is powerful in its awfulness. I hated it yet I read tore through to the end with the power of a vortex. It definitely will not make my list of favorite books in 2011 yet I doubt I will be able to forget it for a long time. Briefly, the author, a travel writer living in Arizona, decided for personal reasons to explore the mountains in Mexico known as the Sierra Madre. Described as “mostly volcanic, a southern continuation of the Rocky Mountain chain, rising up to nearly eleven thousand feet at its highest point and torn apart by plunging ravines, gorges, and the immense, steep-sided canyons known in Spanish as barrancas. Four of them are deeper than the Grand Canyon of Arizona, three others are nearly as deep, and there are six more only slightly less daunting.” This is the kind of book I can usually sink my teeth into—a difficult journey, danger, extreme hardships, rottenness mixed with courage. Unfortunately, the mix was off balance, at least for me. His journey was unremittingly and consistently ugly. Aside from the author’s “screw you” reason for undertaking the trip to the endless recitation of drinking, cocaine snorting, rape, potholed roads, dusty and dreary villages, narcotics, corruption, beaten peoples—the book challenged and in the end left my belief in hope battered and broken. It took three separate reading times to get through the books and each time I closed the cover I felt emotionally pummeled to the point where I couldn’t get up, couldn’t find any of my usual hope or trust or even wish for a better future. All I was left was an overriding sense of despair. And anger. And therein lies the problem. I’m not out to review this book because it is not new and it was reviewed in several major publications when it came out. Even if I was reading it for review I would not because there is nothing I can say about it because it’s risky—socially, culturally, perhaps ethically. What this book ripped out of me is not politically correct and more importantly, is not something with which I am comfortable—an enormous hatred for American political and business hypocrisy and the Mexican culture absorbing and interacting with it (as presented in this book). I could not imagine a place and people so cruel, yet there it was. And when I went into the book forum to which I belong to post it I could do no more than post an abbreviated version of my first paragraph (above) because I cannot bring myself to give into the words it would take to explore my feelings without shocking or offending other members. Plus, I am held in check by the politeness drilled into me all my life. I can’t be honest about the book except to myself, and that is at least equally distressing as my own emotions. It feels awful to have something so powerful wrestling with me and not be able to explore them with others because the words I would need to express my perceptions and my feelings wouldn’t be palatable or politically correct. And I wonder if that will impede my attempt to be honest with myself as well. I am good friends with several Hispanic colleagues with close ties to Mexico, with gays and lesbians, and with people whose political views differ radically from mine. But among us, respect and honor abounds. We enjoy one another’s company, and even when we disagree we are able to do so without bringing claws to the table. These are friendships I value. Dare I risk them trying to explore the ugliness that is now swirling inside me to seek the understanding I need? I don’t know. I hope I can, if not with many then with at least a few. Because I need to understand this part of me that is now, for better or for worse, a part of me. Upcoming Book Festivals: On Sunday, January 23, Massachusetts will host Boxborough Paper Town, the vintage paper, book, and advertising collectibles show from 9:00 am to 4:00 pm. Admission for adults is $6, for those aged twelve to twenty-one, $3, and free for those under the age of twelve. There will be free appraisals from noon to 2:00, and parking is free. Zora!, the weeklong festival that honors the African American writer, Zora Neale Hurston, will take place from January 22-30 in Eatonville, Florida. Though there are events all week, the outdoor part will take place on Saturday and Sunday. The theme this year is “Womanism, Feminism, and Issues of Gender.” Among the special events are the Eastonville Seminar, Remembering Haiti: An Evening Celebrating the People and Culture of Haiti, HATtitude, (brunch), the Festival Awards Gala, and two stage performances. Various packages are available depending on your interests. The outdoor part is free for attendees, and will include food, visual arts, and cultural performances from Friday through Sunday. The Pub House: Among their new titles are The Armies by Evelio Rosera. Translated from Spanish, this novel follows Ismail, a professor who has spent his days spying on his lovely naked neighbor until his wife suggests he visit the local priest. Instead, he wanders the town, seeing friends, remembering secret memories in a story of magical realism. Visitation is a German novel by Jenny Erpenbeck, which follows the lives of twelve individuals and of the everyday life of the house in which they make their home that is the focus of this novel their home from the nineteenth century to German re-unification in 1989. Imaging Books & Reading: Of Interest: Until next week, read well, read often and read on!
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