Apology to my mother

Maybe it's because she has rarely read the books she thinks that I should read. Maybe it's because her word choice hardly compels, (e.g. "It's really sad and it's not a great book but here, read it some time," or "It kept making me think of you and all of your poor students that don't want to learn.") Maybe it's because nobody in my family takes suggestions from the rest of my family (ask my brother about Lone Star). Maybe because there are just too many other books waiting to be read in the world. Whatever the reason, book suggestions from my mother often fall to the bottom my list.

This, it would seem, is a mistake. I always like the books my mother suggests. Admittedly, I always find something to like in almost everything I read, but my mother's suggestions are often right on target. While in Italy, I read two of her suggestions. Two for two (and neither a book my mother physically gave me) would make it sound as if I listen very closely to my mother. The truth is, however, that my mother told me to read Doomsday Book sometime in 1994 and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society sometime last year and I would have never bought them unless books i done read awarded both Doomsday and Guernsey 9 1/2 caterpillars. To give me some credit, Raych had read them both and could remember their titles, which is not true of my mother.

Connie Willis's Doomsday Book is ostensibly sci-fi (it won both the Hugo and Nebula awards) but it is not an adventure novel, a futuristic novel or a novel about science/technology/space or robots. It is the kind of sci-fi novel my mother would probably never pick up, but probably would enjoy. It is a character driven story that happens to involve some time travel. Written in 1992, many parts already feel outdated, although the swine flu epidemic felt eerily current, as did reading about the plague deaths in Siena the night before I visited that Tuscan city. Several times while reading it, I kept wondering why nobody had ever told me about it (until I remembered my mother had) and what Irene, J-babes, Beth, Sunflower Spinner, Sally's Sister, Tucson T. and all think of Willis. Friends, if you have read Connie Willis, I want to know what you think, and if you have not, I want you to so we can discuss what this book is about. When asked what he thought the point was, The Mister suggested, "Quarantines are good," while I was thinking something along the lines of, "Faith is important, even when it can do no good," or "all humans have the capacity to serve as someone else's angel." So I need some other thoughts.

"Swine fever" warrants a line in Shaffer and Barrows' The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, but I wouldn't have noticed it unless I had swine flu on the brain. None of the bad things that happen in Guernsey are disease epidemics. World War II and regular life provide enough moments for tears in a short, sweet book. My main fault with Guernsey is that it is too sweet (and the end is all wrong. Plot-wise it is obvious, but something strange happens with the last 15 pages that made me wonder if the main author died before re-editing them), which is weird for a book that I cried through. The book-love throughout is a nice touch, too, which gives it a few points for all of my librarian and otherwise bibliophilic friends who smile about Heathcliff vs. Darcy debates. Heartily recommended for both mothers and many other friends.

Good choices Mom!