How My Breasts Saved the World

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Much can be gathered from the fact that the only book I've been able to sit down and read consistently is about a woman's 'misadventures' in nursing.  Lisa Wood Shapiro wrote her memoir detailing the immersive nature of breastfeeding throughout her daughter's first year, and I absolutely love her for it.  I feel like her story is my story.  

Ok, not exactly, but it doesn't sugarcoat the difficulties inherent with attaching a starving, living wet vac to your chest for several hours a day.  She details how naive many new moms are about the trials of breastfeeding, the opinions she faced from her family, and her own preconceptions of nursing.   Unlike this other book I read, though, Shapiro focuses on the nursing victories and community she developed.  

Ultimately, isn't that the only thing that gets us through the early weeks of parenthood?  Forget about the milestones like your baby lifting his head during tummy time and holding a rattle for the first time with his own hand; it's, as Shapiro notes, when you realize that you can nurse your baby without a fortress of pillows supporting you, and walking with your baby in a stroller by yourself around the block.  It's finding another new mom who is just discovering this new identity, and wandering down the path of nursing and motherhood together.  Being a first-time parent to a small baby can be a strangely isolating experience, and knowing someone else, even an unknown author, has gone through it and survived, is a reassuring thing.  

The Second Nine Months

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I've been reading a lot of pregnancy guides and have more than one pregnancy app on my phone, but am starting to realize that I'm a bit out of the loop as far as post-partum life goes.  While shelving some books at my local library, I came across this memoir of a woman's experience with her firstborn and checked it out on a whim.  I think I'm glad I did.

Vicki Glembocki is a successful writer and editor, and this book picks up just after she gives birth to her daughter Blair; it ends just after Blair is nine months old.  Glembocki covers the gamut, from feeling guilty for not crying when dropping her daughter off at daycare for the first time (she forces herself to cry just so she can tell everyone she did) to the time she tried to milk herself manually when she forgot her breast pump at home for a day trip to the beach.  Glembocki struggles with the isolation of being a new mom, the frustration she feels with her husband for his inability to read her mind, and basically just being a parent.  

The gist I got from reading this book is that it's okay to not immediately feel maternal and completely in control of being a new parent.  Other people have gone through it and, for the most part, survived.  It's given me some new insight into the complicated world of Mommy and Me classes (Bring a blanket for your baby to lay on!  Wear makeup!), the endless sleepy nights, and fear of judgment from other people at Babies R Us.  When I put it down, I was feeling a little deflated; Glembocki doesn't spend a ton of time on the positive parts of life with Blair and her husband.  Surely, there are enough good parts to being a mom to at least rival the negatives.  Right?  

All in all, I'm glad I read it, and will take comfort in the knowledge that, if things don't go perfectly, I'm in good company.  I hope my memoir of the second nine months, though, is a bit more uplifting.

Let's Pretend This Never Happened

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Several months ago, Summer came over for dinner.  This in and of itself is not that exciting or funny (not because she's not funny or exciting, just that we see each other pretty often), but she physically sat me down on my couch and read this story by Jenny Lawson aka The Bloggess.  The story of Beyonce, the giant metal chicken.  Please take a minute to read over the post linked above and come back when you're done. 
I can't read it at work because it makes me laugh so hard, it distracts my (admittedly) very small office.  So keep that in mind.
A couple weeks ago, Summer informed me that she had purchased a full-length book by Jenny Lawson, and would be lending it to me as soon as she was done.  Thus I picked up Let's Pretend This Never Happened last week to start the giggling and, what I presumed, general goofiness.
Let's be honest: this is a 'mostly true' memoir.  I'm sure the bulk of the book is based on real-life, but sweet baby Jesus, I hope some of it isn't.  Lawson's dad, a taxidermist, had a tendency of sticking his hand into dead animals and using them as puppets to scare/entertain his children.  Her hand got stuck in a cow while she was artificially inseminating it in high school.  That sort of thing.  A lot of the book is funny, but there are some sections that definitely are not; those parts, Lawson pretty much glosses over.  I'm not sure if this is a self-preservation thing or just not-sharing-everything-with-the-public thing, but I kind of wanted to hear more about the version of Lawson that doesn't ramble stream-of-consciousness paragraphs about zombie apocolypses in lieu of discussing things like being diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at 30ish, having a blood disease that makes it hard to get pregnant, and being anorexic in college.  Perhaps because I don't read 'The Bloggess,' Lawson's tone was a bit much to dive into in a full-length book. 
If you're already a fan of her blog, this book will be perfect for you.  If you're buying this thinking it will be humourou fluff, it's a bit more than that.  I'm unsure of exactly where I fall between those two categories.

The Happiness Project

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This book came to me when I really needed it most.  Isn't it funny how life works sometimes?  I'd heard of Gretchen Rubin's memoir of a year spent on increasing her fun and happiness levels a couple years ago when it was released, and thought at the time, "Hey, I should pick that up.  Sounds like a fun, useful read."  Then I promptly got swept up in looking for a job, planning a destination wedding, traveling, working at a job when I found one, moving, etc.  Life gets complicated.  The Happiness Project is a great reminder of appreciating the small things in our daily lives and seeking out ways to create fun.
Rubin was on the bus one day when she realized that she was at risk of wasting her potential for happiness.  She wasn't depressed or incredibly down; quite the opposite, in fact.  She was a relatively financially secure mother of two who was happily married to a man she loved deeply.  However, she knew she could be happier and appreciate the things in her life more fully; thus began her year-long happiness project.  Each month for a year, Rubin tackled a list of to-dos that related to a larger picture; January's topic was clearing the clutter, so she completed a nagging task, cleaned out her closets, etc.  She tried everything from laughter yoga to reading memoirs of catastrophe to wearing socks to promote better sleeping.  Nothing in this book is revolutionary, but it acts as a great reminder for paying attention to our lives and being responsible for our own happiness level.
This would be a great beach read (I read it on lunch breaks on gloomy March days, which actually made the days seem a bit brighter), and will help you prioritize the little things.  I took away a few tips that have been remiss in my own life: let things go, cut people slack, don't let perfect be the enemy of good, etc.  Small mind reframing really helped me keep my irritation in check.  Maybe it will help inspire you to undertake your own happiness project!

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

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Oh, man.  Tiger Mothering is intense.  Amy Chua's book about parenting the Chinese way is very funny at some points, very enraging at others.
Being a tiger mother involves making sure your children follow these rules:

-no playdates.

-no grades less than A (A minus included).

-must be first in class in every subject but gym.
-no participating in school plays.
-must play piano or violin.
As Chua will tell you, though, these rules are difficult for both child and mother.  This Eastern parenting style is heavy on setting the bar high for your child, and believing they can achieve it.  Mother and daughters (in this case) are expected to practice on either piano or violin for several hours a day (Chua listened and gave advice, while daughters practiced); grueling, yes, but necessary to have your child play at Carnegie Hall in their early teens, which her older daughter did.  Chua went on very little sleep (definitely on her own accord) while helping her children, not just achieve the goals she set for them, but surpass them; in repayment, she expected total obedience and dedication to the tasks she put forth.  The sections on her older daughter, Sophia, show that this style worked well, which her younger daughter, Lily, struggled with the system and eventually made her mother give up on Tiger Mothering.
Okay, all of this sounds unbearably difficult, almost tedious, and counterintuitive to the American/Western parenting style.  I mean, she refused homemade birthday cards from her children because she knew they put very little thought into them and she expected more.  Harsh, much?  On the other hand, is it a bad thing to teach your children that hard work is necessary in life?  Very few people are able to coast through life solely on good looks or common sense- there is a degree of effort involved in succeeding. 
My mom, Summer, and I saw Amy Chua at the National Book Festival last year, and Summer and I agreed that being able to hear her voice and inflection in the pages in the book helped turn it into a humanizing look at a family's foray into Tiger Mothering.  Chua is able to step back and see that she's being overbearing, although that doesn't stop her from expecting the very best from her children.  Some of the book in tongue-in-cheek, and it's a memoir, not a parenting guide. 
I'd definitely recommend this book, and can see how it sparked such heated debate in parenting circles when it was released last year.  Go into the book with an open mind, and try to find someone you can discuss with afterward; I promise, the conversation will be worthwhile.

The Good, Good Pig

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My mom read this book ages ago, and recommended it.  Finally, I picked up Sy Montgomery's The Good, Good Pig last week, and am so glad I took her advice. 
Sy and her husband, Howard, adopted a runty pig and named it Christopher Hogwood.  Although they originally thought the pig might not make it very long (runts usually don't), Chris ended up living 14 wonderful years, tipping the scales at 750 (!!) pounds at his heftiest.  Sy and Howard are both free-lance writers, which could sometimes close them off to their neighbors and other "human" companions, but Chris showed them that it takes a community to raise a pig.  While gathering slops for Chris, Sy developed relationships with her neighbors; when he escaped from his pen, the town policeman knew to track him down with apples kept in his truck; national photographers came to visit and take photos of Chris dressed up for greeting cards.  While Sy traveled to the Amazon and India for stories, thoughts of Chris (and her menagerie of other pets, including chickens and a border collie) grounded her to the home she had with Howard in New Hampshire.  Throughout the memoir, Sy includes tidbits on pigs, including their history of being worshipped by humans, different breeds, and the traits they share with people.  It's a great, quick read that will reinvigorate your love for animals.

The Know It All

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Although this book has been on my To Read list for years (I came across an article by the author that I clipped out the month it was published, back in 2005!), it wasn't until Summer lent it to me that I actually read it.  And many, many thanks to my wonderful, bibliophile of a cousin who pushed it into my hands.
AJ Jacobs set out to read the entire 2002 Encyclopaedia Britannica- 33,000 pages, around 44 million words- in one calendar year.  His father, an expert tax lawyer who has published his own series of non-fiction books, attempted this feat and only made it to the Bs; AJ Jacobs is determined to finish, although everyone he knows is extremely skeptical.  Spoiler alert: he gets to the end.  It's the journey that's so fun to follow, though.  Throughout the year of EB, he picks up random bits of trivia (Hey, did you know that the Berserkers was a tribe that went into war naked?), tries out for Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, tries desperately for a child with his patient wife, joins Mensa, takes a speed reading class...the man stays busy.  Through it all, though, he questions what intelligence really is.  How will all of these facts make him smarter?  Will it?
A great read that you can breeze through.  You may learn a thing or two!

Bossypants

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This book was hysterical.  Laughing until I cried, rolling around on the floor, unable to breathe, funny.  Tina Fey's kind-of memoir doesn't cover anything truly ground-breaking, but she explains her rise to comedy heavy-hitter via Tina Fey impersonations, friendly but bitchy gays from high school,  YMCA receptionist in Chicago, and Second City improvisor.  On the way, she covers her horrible honeymoon, the first years of 30 Rock, a very brief description of how she got that infamous scar, an afternoon spent with Monica Lewinsky, why she hired the people she did for her TV show, and being a powerful woman in comedy.  I call it a "kind-of" memoir because there are essays about being female in a male-dominated workplace and fake letters to the Internet (among others).  And that cover...

Although there aren't heaps on adventure in Bossypants, I couldn't put it down.  And, somehow, I appreciated Tina Fey even more after reading it.  How is that possible?  I thought I couldn't like her more.

Blood, Butter and Bones

Food is king.  People who make food are even higher than kings.  They're...kingier.  I'm not good with words sometimes.
Gabrielle Hamilton is a well-known chef in the food world, but I didn't really know her well until picking up her memoir.  Not only is the title incredibly evocative, but it gives you a hint as to the layout of the book.
The first third covers her early years: eating bone marrow made by her French mother, helping her father roast lamb at large parties held at their dilapidated home, moving to NYC at 17 to take up waiting tables.  The second third describes her forays into cooking.  It is an inexplicable part of her; it's in her bones.  She writes about being a chef, the struggles she's faced as a pregnant woman working the line at her own restaurant, and beautifully describes some of the foreign travel she did that brought her to starting Prune, her NY establishment.  The latter portion is kind of the icing on the cake, the buttercream, if you will.  She travels to Italy yearly with her now-estranged husband, and she begins a torrid affair with the country: Hamilton loves the food and the way of life, but feels it lacks depth and is too steeped in tradition to move forward.  She finally does.
As much as I enjoyed reading about her relationship with food and kitchens, the book really picked up with the descriptions of the variety of foods she's prepared.  I most loved the brief section on a field trip she went on in Italy that involved taking very hard biscuits, which are then softened with one "Ava Maria" in saltwater.  I've never heard of this, but immediately want to try it.  Beautiful book, fun to read, brings up some good questions about women in any field of work. 

Moonwalking with Einstein

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When I go for nonfiction, I gravitate toward the popular nonfiction that's full of trivial information.  Moonwalking with Einstein, Joshua Foer's book that follows his path to the U.S. Memory Championship, fills the niche nicely.
It all started when Josh, a science journalist, covered the championship for an assignment.  He quickly got caught up in the world of mnemonists after being taken under the wing of a world-renowned memorist, Ed Cooke.  Cooke convinced him to study for the next year's championship, and this led to tons of research into the human memory.  Some of the most intriguing sections of the book include:
-an interview with the man with the worst case of Alzheimer's in the U.S.
-how people become experts in a field.
-the crazy testing London cabbies have to pass to drive taxis in the city.
-tons of little bits of what people are capable of remembering (one guy knows over 83,000 numbers of Pi!).
I'll say this: while the book is interesting in some points, I'm having a hard time reading it for a substantial amount of time.  Foer does point out that we read now more for extensiveness, as in reading as much as we can, than intensiveness, which is reading a piece of literature and squeezing everything we can out of it.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as the nature of memory is changing from an internal thing  (we remember phone numbers because we don't have memories in our phones, memorize epic poems because we don't have paper) to something outside of our persons (we take pictures, keep daily journals, etc. so we can recall information only after looking at an external source).
This underlying discussion point, about the loss of our collective internal memory, is what ultimately keeps me reading.  I'm close to being done, but can't guarantee that I'll remember the author's name in a few years.  He will, however, be at the National Book Festival this year, so I'll keep him in mind until then!

Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man

It's incredible to think that Bill Clegg was a crack addict from looking at his book jacket photo. He appears to be a golden boy: dirty blond hair, handsome, successful literary agent. This book shows the dark side to being wealthy but insecure in a city where nothing seems impossible to obtain.
Clegg's memoir details his years as an addict, discussing events that led to his disease and the relationships he ruined on his path of destruction. He ran through his $70,000 checking account in a two-month binge, lost his almost obnoxiously patient boyfriend, threw away his boutique literary agency, and lost more than 40 pounds during the years he smoked crack and guzzled vodka. Throughout the memoir, Clegg sprinkles in recollections of his frustrating childhood, with mental/physical issues, and a verbally abusive father.
The book is broken up into chapters, and each paragraph stands on its own, no indentation and a lot of white space, making the reading go by quickly and easily.
To be honest, that's kind of a good thing. There doesn't seem to be a real reason for Clegg to have written this book; he's since recovered, picked up his literary career, and nothing special happens in this piece of nonfiction that hasn't already been recounted in other recollections of addiction. There is not one major event that centers the narrative, but rather little bits of his life, meaning you don't have a lot of self-reflection or explanation. I couldn't help but feel frustrated by the way Clegg threw away every opportunity-at love, at redemption, at happiness- simply because his dad didn't love him enough as a child. While the prose is simple and understated, I was glad when the 222 pages were up so I could pick up something more upbeat and perhaps inventive. I hesitate to recommend this wholeheartedly, but it's been written up in several magazines and newspapers, making it very of-the-moment. At least it's got a lot of people talking, so you would have other sources to compare your opinion with. Hey, and the cover's pretty great.