Category: Books

In the 8th grade I took a test.  In the 8th grade there were many tests, but this one in particular stands out.  I don't remember the subject of the test, and that, actually, is relevant to this post.  It may have been on the amendments to the constitution of the United States.  I remember studying for that test, I remember reciting the relevant information over and over, perhaps cramming, possibly memorizing the relevant information.  I passed the test.  The first test.  A week later our instructor gave us the same test again, this time as a surprise.  Most of us did not pass the second test.  I remember my teacher telling us that this proved that we were not actually learning the material, but merely memorizing facts to take a test.   I recall feeling chastened for studying incorrectly.  I do not recall that we were instructed in techniques to aid in long-term retention of the assigned material, and I wondered where I went wrong. If memorization and cramming are not enough, what indeed is the proper way to study?

Last year I felt driven to slow down my reading.  I am sure this impulse was somewhat reactionary in that there were a few years when I felt overwhelmed and distracted and although I read, I continue to feel like I did not really focus my attention on my reading.  I feel like what I read filtered through my brain like a sieve, leaving little lasting impression.  And this continued to bother me.  But I am also not convinced that some part of me didn't wish to slow down as attempt to align my reading pace more closely to my ability to review the books.  That ended up being an epic fail, as rather than reviewing more, I actually almost stopped reviewing altogether.  But the experiment itself was a success.

Then in December I picked up Make it Stick by Peter C. Brown.   Brown's thesis is that many of the things that we assume about studying and learning are in fact wrong.  He then explains what we have learned about how the brain works and discusses what techniques work and why.  He also explains why study techniques like repeatedly rereading and underlining, then reviewing the underlined passages don't work even though we believe they do.  

The book is a pretty easy read.  Brown basically tells you what works early on, then spends the bulk of the book fleshing it out, telling you why some things work and some don't, reviewing the science and interspersing it with stories aimed at helping the reader relate to the content.  Then in the end he reiterates his main points, with more examples of people who use the techniques and how they have helped them. 

There is a lot of fluff.  But the fluff is actually necessary.  The fluff hides the patterns, which is the point.  The reader has to sift through the story and reflect on the meaning, which feels frustrating, but which also aids in learning.  Brown points out that an author is a storyteller.  We relate to information through stories, and it is through our own adaptation and interpretation of those stories that we write our own stories, which help us ultimately to retain the information.  But in order to write our own version of the story, we have to understand the underlying principles.  We have to think about the story, not just copy and memorize a list of points.

You learn through the connections and relationships your brain builds between bits of information. When you make your own associations, the information takes on meaning, just as I recalled the 8th grade test.  I certainly hadn't thought about that test in decades.  But that test did change the way I studied.  And the changes I made at the time also informed the changes I made to my reading this year, techniques I had devised in high school and college that helped me retain information and which actually made preparing for finals easier.  I was never one of the students pulling overnighters cramming for exams.

I certainly don't use all of the techniques Brown mentions, although I might use more of them were I following a course of study rather than just reading for pleasure and edification. You might use a different combination of techniques, or use them in a different way.  But reading  Make It Stick helped me reflect on my own reading habits, and my reviewing habits as well, and why sometimes I feel torn between wanting to review a book while simultaneously being wrapped up reading another book, and how both difficult and ultimately rewarding it is to go back, and summarize and put my thoughts on a book on paper after it has had time to marinate in my brain for a while.

For a while I struggled with my inclination to want to go back and reflect on what I had read.  My inclination is to read then put the book aside and do something else, even watch tv, then come back, write down what I thought I had read, refer once again to the book to test my own memory and then come back again, usually later, to write my own reflections and elaborations on what I had read. This functions well as a technique for making the knowledge mine.  This often takes days if not weeks. Sometimes I wonder if I make things too hard for myself.  It feels hard, but actually having to work hard on memory, cements that memory more firmly in place.  Restating new information in my own words, associating it with something I already know or an issue I am already struggling with, embeds that knowledge in my own neural pathways. 

In the same way, my own tendency to interleave my reading materials by reading several books simultaneously, as well as the distractions caused by the general hubbub of life, helps to solidify the impression made by the book.  The harder I have to work to retrieve the memory, the more likely the memory is to stick.  When I was young I thought I wasn't very smart because I had to work so hard, rewriting and quizzing myself in order to fully absorb things.  I was envious of those who read and underlined and made it look easy, even thought I knew that didn't work for me.  It ends up that effortless study does not really help any of us; it is the effort that makes it stick.  Although I didn't realize the impact then, my efforts paid off.  As I mentioned, I was not cramming come exam week, although many of my classmates were.  I already knew the material.  I didn't have to crack my text, just review my own copiously rewritten notes, and quiz myself on a few points.  It was my classmates who made it look so easy during the semester were up all night cramming their brains into oblivion, showing up with gray skin and dark circles under their eyes.

The point is to read or study, forget, at least partially, then retrieve.  My own inclination to rewrite and reflect is a form of retrieval.  I finished the actual reading of this book around the 30th of December.  I finished my notes on January 2nd.  It has taken me over a week to articulate what I wanted to say in this review, which is in effect, yet another final review and restatement of my thoughts on the book.  It is completely different from my notes of the 2nd, which I reviewed briefly before sitting down to write this, and set aside.

Granted not all books are worth the effort.  They should not be.  We all need to rest, to escape, to wind down however we chose to do so, be it a beer with friends, a mindless television show, a silly book.  Learn. Rest.  Learn something else.  Wander.  Recall.  Begin again. 

One of the two books that I finished the first weekend of this year addressed this exact problem. 

The Disappearance by Phillip Wylie.  I heard a lot about this book when I was in college, but I never found a copy.  Eventually I forgot about it, until recently that is, when I saw a copy in a bookstore. I will be intrigued to see if it lives up to nearly 40 years of expectation.

Jesus and the Disinherited by Howard Thurman.  This is my reading for a class later this week.

The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker.  I actually read this a few years ago, but felt strongly moved to read it again this December.  A lot has changed in my understandings during the intervening years. This second reading is proving quite rewarding.

Creeds, Councils, and Controversies, edited by J. Stevenson.  I picked this up during the fall, to look up some original materials referenced in my reading about the history of Christianity for EFM year three.  It is not the kind of book I can read straight-through, but I am still finding it yields fascinating perspectives into the development of western European thought.

Stoned by Aja Raden. I've just started this.  So far nothing new but the reading is entertaining. 

I also finished two books this past weekend, which is good because even for a person who tends to have multiple books going at one time, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and stressed by the number of books competing for my attention.  I haven't quite wrapped my head completely around the second book, though, so you might hear about that later in the week.

I am not going to post a list of all the books I read in 2015.  I now keep such a list on LibraryThing, and therefore have no need of duplicating the list here.  The feature of my previous lists that was useful however, was the notation of favorite books, and that I shall continue.  This may be particularly useful this year, as I more or less stopped reviewing books in the middle of 2015. It is a decision I regret, but it is too late to go back and catch you up on thoughts and processes past.  I believe I just needed to make some decision about what I would and would not write as I am not inclined toward a traditional review, and, by nature, it is very rare that I actually regret reading a book, or find that my time was wasted, even with a book, that I may find seriously flawed and lacking.  So I will occasionally write about books, but not all books. 

In the meantime, here are the books that I enjoyed the most in 2015.  For the most part the books I enjoyed the most are also the books that in some way changed my way of thinking and seeing the world.  Since I find it difficult to both rate and rank books, they are listed alphabetically by author's last name.

How to Fly a Horse by Kevin Ashton is a book about creativity and how humans are creative animals by nature.  In fact it is about our struggle between the creative impulse and fear, or the need for security.  Not reviewed, but mentioned here and again here.

Necessary Targets by Eve Ensler.  We need to build walls to make life tolerable; and yet those same walls which protect us, can also separate and destroy us.  We occasionally need to be reminded of this fact. Review here.

The Episcopal Call to Love by Rob Gieselmann.  The book was written in response to a particular time and place in Episcopal Church, and I initially read it for two reasons: We were addressing a related issue in my parish home, and Rob Gieselmann was one of the candidates being considered in our search for a Priest-In-Charge.   I went back to the book later however because it resonated deeply with me in my own explorations of how we listen, relate, and ultimately love our neighbors.

Travelling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor.  Lent to me by a friend, I was initially put off by the opening sections of this book.  Yet I stuck with it and ultimately found it rewarding. It proved to have strong connections to other books I read this year, including Ashton (above) which I read later.  It proved to be a fascinating exploration, through memoir, of the role of creativity in life, of the search for meaning, and in finding and embracing one's true calling.

H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald.  A book I wish everyone could read.  Yes, it delves deeply into the darker sides of human nature, but it is only by reconciling ourselves with darkness and pain that we become most human.  Review here.  And also, see Mater's review here.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. A rich, complexly rewarding novel.  I see no point in repeating myself.  Review here.

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami.  This is a book I wish I had reviewed as I cannot say enough about it in this brief format.  That said I will read it again as it has played so deeply in my insights and thoughts that I am sure I will see things with new eyes upon my next reading.  Although I have read all of Murakami's other novels, and  I purchased the novel when it first came out, I realized when I picked it up, after our new Priest (see above) mentioned it in a sermon, that I could not have read it before now. Is Tsukuru colorless because he has closed himself off to emotion and love due to grief? But he saw himself as colorless before, whereas his friends had color.  Or is it is self-perceived colorlessness that has allowed him to live out his dream to create?  A novel that exists on many levels and raises more questions than it answers, but once again touches on pain and joy, the struggle between safety and creativity, and what makes us human.

Globalization, Gender, and Peacebuilding by Kwok Pui-Lan.  This brief book on interfaith dialogue was assigned reading in last year's EFM class.  I read it early in the year and found it be a persuasive and thought-provoking analysis of the roots of religious conflict.  It really challenged many of my perceptions and assumptions and I found myself looking forward to a class discussion that never occurred due to many conflicting circumstances.  I will probably read it again, in an attempt to come to some understanding between my initial perceptions and any evolution in my personal insights into the world  (in lieu of actual dialogue).  Academically written so not for everyone, but worthwhile for those so inclined.

You've probably noticed that there seems to be a theme, or some consistency in what stuck with me this year.  I am sure that to some extent this often occurs, as what we see and are drawn to in any book depends on where we have been, what we have learned, and our own understanding of the world, ie. the perspective we bring into the dialogue between ourselves and the book.   Since I tend to read several books simultaneously, this habit may also affect my perspectives.

I have therefore decided that it may be fun and informative if I occasionally list the books I am currently reading.  They may not all get reviewed.  They may not even all get listed, as I view this as an occasional snapshot kind of post.  But I'd be interested in seeing how my memories and perceptions of a book relate to the other books I was reading at the same time, if they relate at all. I'm thinking this will be a monthly snapshot, but it may be more or less frequent, depending on how much or how little I read (2015 was a short-listed year).  I'll put up the first post next week.

Late Saturday afternoon I was sitting at Walgreens waiting for a prescription.  It was not really the best time, the place was crowded, and I just wanted to be home.  I entertained myself by settling into one of the chairs in the pharmacy department with a Stone Barrington novel by Stuart Woods.  This one, Hot Pursuit was fairly typical, although I've apparently missed quite a few recent installments regarding Stone's life.  No great loss there.  Bourbon, women, wine, food, a bit of high society.  The book is predictable, the characters suitably vague so that one can project upon them what one will, and entertaining in a glossy surface kind of way.  In fact perfect for tuning out the surrounding drama at a Walgreen's on a Saturday night.  I was about a third of the way through the book when I left the store, and finished it up when I got home.  The experience was, in fact, a lot like eating a bag of potato chips, without the residual feeling of "what was I thinking".  Stone is the same, an aging lothario who doesn't seem to know that he is aging, and whose life actually seems pretty shallow and uninteresting, except that the reader is distracted by the gloss and the name-dropping and hint of power-plays.  Not bad for an hour and a half when reality is less appealing than a bit of fantasy, and probably an improvement over staring mindlessly at the tv, in that at least something can be left to the imagination.

It was, in fact, an improvement over the last two Reacher novels, both of which I read in the evenings of my drive to and from Texas in November.  Like Stone Barrington, Jack Reacher hasn't really evolved at all, and that is not necessarily bad in that I like the way Reacher is willing to stand for his own personal code.  But the books are getting tired, and it seemed like Lee Child was really reaching for plot ideas, especially in the first of the two books I read, Personal which put Reacher in a situation where he was really the target, a situation that was the opposite of everything Reacher believes in.  The second book, Make Me, was more typical in terms of plot, but still seemed like a bit of a stretch, as if the author is having trouble keeping the series going.  Like Barrington, Reacher is not evolving.  That is probably realistic; I suspect most of us don't really evolve or change much as we age.  Unfortunately it doesn't make for particularly interesting reading.  Or perhaps the lack of sugar (the name-dropping gloss of the Barrington novels) makes the emptiness of the read all the more apparent.

On a lighter note, Graeme Simsion's romantic comedy, The Rosie Project, was light-hearted and charming and proved to be a cheerfully entertaining read.  I had some doubts about it, despite the hype. Or was that because of the hype?   The main character, Don Tillman is a socially awkward scientist, who has Asperger's, but isn't particularly aware that he has Asperger's, and the author seemed to do a good job of getting into his head and making his oddness charming in a rather self-deprecating way.  There were perhaps a few too many jokes at his expense, but they were pulled off with grace. Most of the characterizations are shallow and rather predictably stereotypical, but again, they are handled with a light hand, and the general humor carries them.  This is not true in the sequel, which I do not recommend at all, as it devolves into a rather painful morass of cliche and incomprehensible obliviousness, and seems to dive into all the pits the first novel manages to (barely) avoid.

Of these books, I would say The Rosie Project would be the only one I would recommend.  It too is a fast read and probably will not stand up to critical reading, but  it is the only one that seems to have claimed any particular place in my memory.  Or perhaps, given my own penchant for reflection, Don Tillman reminds me that our own conception of ourselves is perhaps more telling in terms of who we become, even when our perceptions fly in the face of other's perceptions of us.

One nice fringe benefit of my trip to Texas was the ability to indulge in a little light reading.   I was eager enough to read Elizabeth George's new novel, A Banquet of Consequences, that I preordered it on my kindle, and stayed up much of one night in our hotel room in San Antonio, hiding under the covers to avoid waking my mom, as the wind howled outside and the sound of rain pounded against the windows.  And it was a good book, one well worth staying up for.

I am not going to spoil the fun by revealing details of the plot, only say that Lynley and Havers seem to be more or less back on track, with stronger elements of their old selves in evidence.  We actually don't see a lot of Lynley, although he is present, and his presence is critical.  Lynley himself seems to be coming to terms with the changes in his own life, and the consequences of his actions, both the continuing repercussions of his ill-conceived involvement with Isabelle Ardery, and the more interesting and ultimately challenging consequences of his growing attachment to Daidre Trahair.  In short, Lynley has been working through his grief, and show signs of becoming a far more complex and interesting character in the process.  We still have to see how far he is willing to carry through.

But Lynley isn't really the focus in this novel.  That distinction goes to Barbara Havers, although actually we spend far more time with a complex cast of characters and an interesting set of circumstances, the same set of circumstances that ensnare Barbara Havers, and lead to her involvement in solving a crime.    In fact the entire novel is an interesting study in motivation and the consequences of both action and inaction.  Of course Havers has a lot to lose and a lot to gain in this investigation.  Her situation remains precarious following her almost complete unraveling in the last novel, but she acquits herself well, and we not only begin to see the old Barbara emerge, a woman who is creatively brilliant as an investigator, either despite of her prickliness, or because of it, I'm not sure which, but we even see hints that she too may be growing in new and interesting ways.

And this is what I probably found most interesting in this book.  Not only is it a good mystery and it is, complex and satisfying at that.  But George also does a masterful job of bringing her characters around to where they need to be in order to carry on.  I know that not everyone liked the last few novels, and that they have been uneven at best.  And I also realize how shocked we all were at the death of Lynley's wife, but, increasingly, I think that this evolution was necessary in the life of these characters, just as evolution and transition is necessary in our own lives.  Without this evolution, no matter how uncomfortable it was to us as readers, I am not convinced that this series could continue.  It seems to me that the author has positioned herself and her characters well, with a promising future, a future I am looking forward to exploring, as George leaves us with some tantalizing hints at the end of the novel.

And although I am certain that what we pick up out of our reading has as much to do with our own accumulated experiences as with the actual words written, I am also intrigued by the way this novel reflects ideas that have been floating in my head for some months now.  Lynley realizes that Barbara's brilliance as an investigator has been hampered by the straightjacket Ardery has placed her in, and he needs the old Barbara back.  In fact both Lynley and Havers were brilliant as investigators because they were both outsiders, although outsiders of very different sorts, and it was this meeting of their skills and perspectives, and their ability and willingness to see into the cracks, that made them a fine team.  But with his marriage, Lynley was getting too settled, and moving back, just a little bit more comfortably, into his natal milieu; and Havers, well Havers lost her lifeline when Lynley married.

The book reminded me of books I read this summer, books I didn't review, and which I can't really go back to now.  One was Kevin Ashton's How to Fly a Horse, which was about creativity and creative thinking.  Ashton's thesis was that we are all creative, that creativity is a hallmark of our species, a basic part of our nature, but one which some of us tap into better than others.  He also noted that security and fear are another part of our nature, and the both the need to be creative, and the fear of change and need for security are equally necessary for our survival.  It is this competing set of instincts that are of course happening in this struggle between Ardery, who is all too often all too close to self-destructing and losing the security of her life, and who therefore craves security and order, and Barbara Havers, whose life is chaos, and who needs the security brought about by putting the bad guys away, and whose need fuels her brilliantly creative and insightful investigative impulses. But all that brilliance and creativity comes at a cost, and as Ashton repeatedly points out, creativity is not neat and orderly.   Lynley and Havers both make people uncomfortable, although in very different ways, and in order to do this they must be open to their own discomfort and to finding a way to live with their own discomfort.  This book shows both of them making progress toward something better perhaps than they were before.