A Book I Did Not Read
I just tanked on Eric Larsen’s THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA. As soon as I started the book, I heard my granddaughter Sophie’s voice in my head. When I suggest a book or movie to Sophie, she often gets solemn and says, “Granola. That’s not my genre.”
I committed to reading this book about the British ocean liner that was sunk by a German submarine in World War I, causing a major diplomatic uproar, because it was my book club’s selection. I enjoy joining the book club conversations, and one reason I joined a book club in the first place was to broaden my literary spectrum.
Eric Larsen writes well. I was struck by his strong descriptions and graceful phrasing. He has accumulated scads of information about military vessels and the war itself, and it’s clear he’s fascinated with the mysterious demise of the Lusitania. But I care as much about battleships and war details and political climate as I do football. Many years ago, Ed bought me a video on “How to Watch Football”. I couldn’t watch the video. I kept spacing out. Sort of like with this book.
At first, I plowed through like a good soldier, reading and re-reading lengthy, informative passages, getting grudging satisfaction out of finishing a page. But then it started to feel like work. I need a character to follow, to care about, before I’ll stay with non-fiction. I was captured by Isabel Wilkerson’s THE WARMTH OF OTHER SUNS, which is also very informative, but I was captured because the people migrating North from the oppressive South were specific individuals depicted as real and flawed, and I ached and pulled for them. I finished Luis Alberto Urrea’s THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY, which made me furious and made me cry, because I felt connected to the characters. The people in THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA are less than secondary to the details of an historical event.
As my stepfather Hugh (RIP) used to say, “It’s fine. If you like that sort of thing.” I wanted to like THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA. The women in my book club did, and I enjoyed hearing how the book sparked their curiosity, sent them on Internet explorations, made them think. This is not the first time my left brained friends have raved about something my right brained self found grinding.
So, I closed Larsen’s book and went back to BEFORE YOU KNOW KINDNESS, by Chris Bohjalian, which I’d reluctantly left a few days prior and which I may use for my next review. And I was struck, yet again, at how individual, how personal, books are to readers, and how my literary piece of heaven is often my fellow reader’s hell. I’d love to hear your take on the books I review. And you may love THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA. If it’s your genre, I mean. And if you like that sort of thing.
I committed to reading this book about the British ocean liner that was sunk by a German submarine in World War I, causing a major diplomatic uproar, because it was my book club’s selection. I enjoy joining the book club conversations, and one reason I joined a book club in the first place was to broaden my literary spectrum.
Eric Larsen writes well. I was struck by his strong descriptions and graceful phrasing. He has accumulated scads of information about military vessels and the war itself, and it’s clear he’s fascinated with the mysterious demise of the Lusitania. But I care as much about battleships and war details and political climate as I do football. Many years ago, Ed bought me a video on “How to Watch Football”. I couldn’t watch the video. I kept spacing out. Sort of like with this book.
At first, I plowed through like a good soldier, reading and re-reading lengthy, informative passages, getting grudging satisfaction out of finishing a page. But then it started to feel like work. I need a character to follow, to care about, before I’ll stay with non-fiction. I was captured by Isabel Wilkerson’s THE WARMTH OF OTHER SUNS, which is also very informative, but I was captured because the people migrating North from the oppressive South were specific individuals depicted as real and flawed, and I ached and pulled for them. I finished Luis Alberto Urrea’s THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY, which made me furious and made me cry, because I felt connected to the characters. The people in THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA are less than secondary to the details of an historical event.
As my stepfather Hugh (RIP) used to say, “It’s fine. If you like that sort of thing.” I wanted to like THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA. The women in my book club did, and I enjoyed hearing how the book sparked their curiosity, sent them on Internet explorations, made them think. This is not the first time my left brained friends have raved about something my right brained self found grinding.
So, I closed Larsen’s book and went back to BEFORE YOU KNOW KINDNESS, by Chris Bohjalian, which I’d reluctantly left a few days prior and which I may use for my next review. And I was struck, yet again, at how individual, how personal, books are to readers, and how my literary piece of heaven is often my fellow reader’s hell. I’d love to hear your take on the books I review. And you may love THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA. If it’s your genre, I mean. And if you like that sort of thing.