This'll probably be hamhanded, but:
brenda, I get it and suspect I am like you. The Witnessing thing was a HUGE part of my upbringing. I don't know how that's informed my ability to pursue this kind of lit, but it is a strong tradition I was raised with. I also get how it's hard to say "this is important to me to read" without it sounding like, well, gorging. It isn't that. It just feels necessary. As I was listing those books, I was thinking "man, sounds like I'm reading this stuff because I get some sort of emotional high or low off this or some sort of woo-woo cred, and it isn't that. It's that it makes me angry and sorrowful and it matters, damnit. If I don't know I'm lesser (not to say that others aren't. Just me. Double standards and all that.)" I'm a huge student of history, in all its ugliness.
That said, I'm terrified of reading
Nanking.
I've read enough reviews, heard interviews with the author and it will be really hard.
For me the instinct is the opposite, I think - I feel like there's a sort of capital W Witnessing in reading different perspectives on the events.
Me too, brenda. I occasionally will pull out the Holocaust Chronicles massive-tome that I got from the bargain section of Waldenbooks (also available now at B&N) and re-read it for just that reason. It's extremely informative, and can be very depressing, of course.
I've seen The Rape of Nanking at the bookstore, and looked at the (horrific) photos. I do intend to read it eventually to learn the details. (Sadly, Iris Chang committed suicide a few years ago.)
Oh jesus, Kathy. I did not know that. Ugh.
It's slow going - I'm reading a bit at a time and putting it down.
Huh. Wonder if that's why I've been mainlining romance novels recently - keeping a balance of sorts?
Huh. Wonder if that's why I've been mainlining romance novels recently - keeping a balance of sorts?
Romance novels are not the balance to Holocaust literature, I'm pretty sure. Maybe Wodehouse.
No, Wodehouse would occupy my brain too much, rather than lulling it to sleep.
Both bad & good romance novels totally are what I used to temper the holy-fuck-we're-awful-creatures. Mind candy.
That and formulaic mysteries.
Garrison Keillor?
Nails. On. A. Chalkboard.
Amy, I remember that one too! Appalachia, poverty and orphans. With the mentally challenged sister, right?
...Really? He had a sister? Really? They definitely weren't orphans, though. Er... maybe not definitely, but I'm pretty sure. The dogs were Old Dan and Little Ann, and he carried them home in a flour sack and that much I am pretty sure I am not making up. Shit, you are making me question everything I believe about that book.
And not for the first time. My grandparents had a copy and I read it when I was very very young (1st grade?). Or, it turns out, I thought I did. Because then a couple of years later I was visiting and read it again and was all, "I don't remember any of this! Holy crap!" I think what actually had happened was that on the previous "read" I had skimmed past the beginning because it was all about people doing things and not about dogs at all, BORING, and then I got to the big coon hunt with the snowstorm and read all of that, and then I stopped. So essentially I read a couple of chapters in the middle. It wasn't depressing at all that way!
Which made actually reading the whole thing kind of a bummer.
I think you're talking about Where the Redfern Grows, Strega. Where the Lilies Bloom has a girl narrator.
