He Began With Eve

He Began With Eve  Joyce Landorf
1983
Weight: 9. 6 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving about town

It is Mother's Day weekend.  I spent the day with my amazing mother.  We went to an "estate" sale that was not really an estate sale.  Luckily, everyone in the family was very much alive but also very attached to the items they were trying to sell and not inexpensively or decisively I might add.  I cannot begin to recount the awkward times we had there.  We went to dinner and then home to watch a movie.

Tomorrow, I will be doing a bunch of volunteer work for my place of employment and then I will set off to my grandmother's to celebrate her as a mother and also to celebrate the day of her birth.  She is the one that passed on this bizarre book to me.  The back cover of the book and the author can be seen in the picture shown above.  I feel like this should be enough said.  Title, picture, gift from Southern Baptist Grandma.

There was something shocking about this book though.  I was surprised that my grandmother had bought and read a book that was a fictionalized account of the lives of women in the bible.  I don't know why.  She is religious.  She is a woman.  But it  seemed, almost, like a brush with feminism to me.  I know she would recoil, and I know we have differing opinions about the definition of feminism too.  It was also something about it being a FICTIONAL account from the women's perspectives that made it seem just slight subversive to me.  Am I trying too hard?  Yeah...

The House on Mango Street

The House on Mango Street  by Sandra Cisneros

1991

Weight: 5.6 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating or giving away

I finally read The House on Mango Street.  I could tell within the first few pages that Cisneros was a skilled author.  I fell into it right away, but as I continued through it I lost some of that initial magic.  It almost felt half-realized.  I enjoyed it, but I kept wanting more.  I think that beautiful sentences or paragraphs were surrounded by lackluster ones, and I was never quite sure when the beauty would come back.  All of the sudden, it would appear and I would be impressed again.  

It was short and easy to read, as it was broken up into numerous small vignettes.  I, of course, appreciated her willingness to tackle difficult situations in a way that was not overly graphic, but also does not assume that children are not exposed to horrible things early, like sexual violence.   Her use of imagery was on point most of the time.   She fits so much into one tiny book.  I do think it is one of the better books written for a younger audience.  It is a book that older adults also enjoy.

Her is a sample of Cisneros’ writing, “In English my name means hope.  In Spanish it means too many letters.  It means sadness, it means waiting.  It is like the number nine.  A muddy color.  It is the records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing (10).”

Same deal as usual, if you want it let me know.  It is yours for the taking.