My lilacs smell good

I'm so glad they are old-fashioned, smell-like-my-grandmas'-houses lilacs*. They just fully opened yesterday.
What's blooming at your place?
I'm off to Kansas for the weekend.
Rock-chalk!

*By reputation. I don't think I ever visited my grandmothers at lilac time.

The World Needs a Spring Break

Since I have been a professor, spring break has always frustrated me. I expect to simultaneously relax, have lots of active fun, catch up with grading and lesson plans and catch up with household tasks. I never ever accomplish this in a week, and I return to class with a dirty house, a large pile of grading and without having baked fabulous star-shaped cookies.
Still, I spent enough time working non-academic jobs to know just how wonderful spring break is. It's fabulous. Reading the news right now it feels as if everybody could use a week detached from ordinary cares.
Happy Spring Break to those of you lucky enough to have one.
Make some sort of break for yourself for those of you who don't.
(Image from the groundhog party, but I think it captures the essence of what I think spring break should feel like, even if it never does.)

Spaetzle Piggy

Way back in the year of the noodle (about 6 weeks ago) I did manage to make homemade noodles once. At one fine dinner we ate chicken paprikash, red cabbage and apples, parsnips and carrots, and buttery homemade spätzle. The little German noodles were surprisingly easy, crazy messy, and devoured quickly by Dianthus. They were such a hit that I was sure I'd make them again soon.
I haven't.
Perhaps someday.

What does it mean to be a Haitian novel?

Every time I describe Breath, Eyes, Memory, I describe it as a contemporary Haitian novel or as a novel by a Haitian American. One side of me recoils at such a description; a novel should be read as a novel regardless of the nationality or ethnicity of the author. On the other hand, there is something different about this book than the many similar Oprah Books dealing with dysfunctional relationships among women. Some of that difference is that B, E, M is better written than many. Much of that difference is that B, E, M is Haitian. I know SalSis would have never chosen B, E, M had it not been Haitian. Prairie Quilter, Beth and I would not have responded as well as we did, all remarking it was good to read something outside of our norm, had B, E, M not been Haitian and somewhat exotic.
The idea of multiple standards and appropriateness of labels is a much greater subject than I have the background or will to take-on here. Since at least my American Ethnic Lit class in college, I've been aware that it is both "unfair" to judge works from other traditions without any idea of the standards of that tradition and "unfair" to read uncritically because the works are different. Neither, "Breath, Eyes, Memory is good for a Haitian novel" or "Breath, Eyes, Memory is good because it is a Haitian novel," sits right with me. Yet. Yet . . .
Yet I still book as being Haitian every time I describe it. What, exactly, do I mean by that? I can explain, to some extent, what I mean by a "Victorian romance" or "science fiction romp". But Haitian? I haven't read any other Haitian novels. I don't know what it means.
Edwidge Danticat (the author) furthers my confusion by adding a "What the . . . ?" afterward to the paperback edition (book originally published in 1994, afterward added in 1999) in which she basically writes "THIS BOOK DOES NOT REPRESENT ALL THE WOMEN OF HAITI" which makes one wonder just how many readers thought it did.
I wanted to write back to Danticat, "Of course not every family is like the one you describe. How absurd that you need to tell us this," but then I think about how many other images I have of modern women in Haiti, and, well, I am left with some general impressions from my friend SalSis and from Mountains Beyond Mountains, but the only Haitians I can envision with names and stories are the women in Breath, Eyes, Memory.
Which brings up the very interesting idea of characters as representations of whole peoples. What obligations to writers and readers have to make sure that fictional characters don't become unwitting ambassadors?
Anybody else envision whole times and places based on a book or two?
Thoughts welcome.
[Raych at books i done read started an interesting discussion on reading more widely. Readers looking to expand the breadth of their reading will find a great bunch of recommendations in the comments.]

Lark Warning

Lark Rise is well-written and perhaps charming in spots (Marieke and I are discussing that right now), but there is no plot, and possibly no story.
While I'd love to have more people in on the discussion, most of us like something to happen in a book labeled as a novel, and now that I'm far enough into it to know that there is no action, I can't very well recommend joining us (except perhaps for Amateur Reader, who has claimed a few times that he doesn't care much about plot).
As Marieke writes, "I expected there to be a story. With characters, events, and dialogue. With a flow to it. I'm not finding that at all."
You're still most welcome to participate in the discussion, but you have been warned.

March STIR Promo: Lark Rise

For March, Marieke, my on-line friend in Western Scotland, and I are reading Lark Rise to Candleford by Flora Thompson.

In the words of Marieke, "I picked Lark Rise because I saw some episodes of the BBC dramatization and really liked them, because I have it on my bookshelf already, and because it's British and probably somewhat quaint and old-timey, small-villagey and I thought you might like it! Looking forward to it."

Lark Rise to Candleford is actually a combination of three books: Lark Rise (1939), Over to Candleford (1941) and Candleford Green (1943) written about hamlet, town and village life in the 1880s and 1890s. The combination totals about 500 pages, but one could easily read just one of short books and join the conversation*. I've started Lark Rise and have thus far found it to be everything that Marieke expected. It is not, however, updated Jane Austen or Jane Eyre (which I perhaps was expecting just because Marieke first mentioned Lark Rise in conjunction with I Capture the Castle, which is a retelling of Jane Austen and Jane Eyre), it is not Thomas Hardy or Anthony Trollope illuminating the drama in Victorian village life, or even a Laura Ingalls Wilder moved to England (a later expectation after I realized that the books were a fictionalized memoir of growing up in a place long gone by the time of publication).

Let me know if you join us in the reading.

*Marieke and I have yet to figure out the logistics of the conversation, but we will.

STIR 1: Breath, Eyes Overall Impressions

I'm hoping to have three discussion posts on Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat, the February STIR book. This post will feature overall impressions and I hope that fellow readers will comment with their personal responses, including an answer to the question, "If you own the book, what are you going to do with it now?" The second book will be about Haiti and what it means to be "a Haitian Novel" or "Haitian-American Literature" or part of the "Haitian Diaspora." I'm curious how being Haitian affected your reading of the book, how you responded to the Haiti vs. New York scenes, what other Haitian literature you've read and what in the world is up with the afterward. If you e-mail me your thoughts, I can include them in the main post, if not, you can add them in the comments. If I make it to a third post, it will be about the role of stars, the role of the sky and the role of religion in the book. Again, thoughts welcome in advance.
Breath, Eyes, Memory follows Sophie, a young girl, from her childhood in Haiti with her aunt, to her teen years in New York with her mother, and back to her grandmother in Haiti at a time of personal crisis. While men cause things to happen: they rape, they marry the wrong woman, they govern the country poorly, and they impregnate; the book is about the relationships among the women.
Both SalSis and I found the childhood section to be a fast, breezy read. Many of the descriptions triggered pleasant memories for SalSis, as she has spent time in Haiti, particularly among children. She was excited that she understood the creole, delighted when the descriptions matched children and events she had encountered and curious when details didn't jibe with her experience. I enjoyed this section more just wondering how it compared with the villages where SalSis has spent time.
Everything about B, E, M changes when Sophie hits New York (more on that with the Haiti-New York post) and our reactions did as well. I continued to read quickly (I read the book all one day), partially because the story is compelling and partially because I don't like to leave characters in uncomfortable situations, and the situations are plenty uncomfortable. When I did the math and realized that the member of the older generation who is shockingly pregnant is younger than I am, I cried some and reminded the Mister that if Rutherford is a girl child, she will be treated with great respect.
At that point I think the book became more of a squirm-inducing slog for Salsis, who felt relief at the inevitably unpleasant resolution.
I'm really unsure what I will do with my copy of the book. I won't re-read it, so I won't keep it. It is too well-written not to give to somebody, but most of my friends have limited enough reading time that I have a hard time recommending something that is somewhat painful to read, however well-written.
Thoughts from others?