Elizabeth McCracken's Bowlaway: Love, Geneaology, and Candlepin Bowling

The following excerpts are taken from a long-form review of Bowlaway and interview with Elizabeth McCracken, both of which ran in the October 24th, 2018 issue of Shelf Awareness' Maximum Shelf. Bowlaway is on sale now wherever books are sold (and was one of the best books I had the pleasure of reading and reviewing in 2018). Excerpts reprinted here with permission.

It can be hard, in a world with so very many books, to find something truly unique to write about. But Elizabeth McCracken (Thunderstruck, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination) has done just that in Bowlaway, a sweeping family saga centered on a bowling alley. And not just any old bowling alley, but a candlepin bowling alley, and not just any old story, but a love story. "Our subject is love," writes McCracken early in the novel, "because our subject is bowling. Candlepin bowling. This is New England, and even the violence is cunning and subtle."

This sets the tone for the rest of the tale, which is itself cunning and subtle, a carefully woven and darkly humorous account of one woman, Bertha Truitt, and the strange and lasting legacy of her fascinating and too-short life.

Book Review: Careers for Women, by Joanna Scott

This review modified from a review written for Shelf Awareness for Readers.

Careers for Women is a novel ambitious in scope: Spanning the late 1950s to the present day, Joanna Scott (De Potter's Grand Tour) uses the building of the World Trade Center as a lens through which to examine power, feminism, modernity, progress and the power of dreams to shape a life--or many.

The Last Feminist to Read Lean In, Perhaps?

Am I the last self-described feminist to read Lean In? Possibly. The book has been reviewed, debated, reviewed and debated again, featured in the New York Times who knows how many times, etc. etc. etc. It has sparked debates about the importance of stay-at-home mothers (and fathers), debates on the glass ceiling, debates on how to "have it all." It's even inspired a new line of stock photography.

That's a lot for a book that's just about to celebrate its first birthday--even if the author does happen to be one of the most powerful women at one of the most powerful and recognized companies in the world. Sandberg is a powerhouse, and her successes are only further proof of her passion--as is her book.

I'll admit, I was skeptical in starting this (which is why, perhaps, I'm so late to the party). Sheryl Sandberg works at Facebook, for crying out loud. She has a career, not a job, and kids. And money. And opportunity. What could she possibly teach me?

The thing that she can teach me, it turns out, is that she can teach me. That any woman (or man), at any stage of her (or his) career, can stand to take a step back and reconsider how--and from whom--we learn, and how we can adjust accordingly. 

As The Last Feminist to Read Lean In, I don't plan on offering up a review of this book. There's no shortage of those already in the world--but actually, that's part of what lead me to write this post in the first place. Because the number of reviews that turn their nose down at this book because Sandberg is rich; or because she sites Marissa Meyer as an example of a woman making her own choices and standing by them, no matter the critics; or because the book is "obvious"? That number is downright disheartening, especially when faced with the fact that Sandberg is careful to address each and every one of these potential problems in her work.

At the end of the day, the biggest thing this particular feminist took away from Lean In was not that Sandberg has all the answers, or the key to breaking the glass ceiling that may or may not exist. It was not that there is a right or wrong decision at any given place in a woman's career. It was not even that there is a solution to all of our gender inequality problems, which hurt men as much as women.

It was this: only by seizing every opportunity, and evaluating it in the context of our own lives, needs, wants, and desires, can we continue to grow, and thrive, and push for change. In order to get anywhere, we all have to be willing to put ourselves out there--and willing to work towards change together, rather than fighting to ensure that "change" meets our definition of what is "right."

And I think that's a pretty powerful message.

Book Review: Dept. of Speculation, by Jenny Offill

Jenny Offill's short but incredibly powerful second novel, Dept. of Speculation, is the story of a woman, the Wife, and a man, the Husband, and their daughter. Told in a series of crisp vignettes, the staccato of the story reads like a journal, or maybe a confession, or a memoir, though the tales do not always follow chronologically.

Much like Pam Houston's stunning story collection, Contents May Have Shifted, Offill's short chapters are somewhat related, though non-linear, each packed with standalone emotions that combine to tell the story of a disappointed, outraged, anguished, but still-fighting woman who has seen her dreams drift past her in favor of the life she has chosen--or submitted to. It's sometimes hard to say which, but isn't that always the case?

Whatever more I try to write will inevitably not do the book justice, so suffice it to say:

I highlighted well over 50% of the words on these pages.

I re-read well over 50% of the pages in this book.

I laughed. I stopped. I pondered. I didn't quite cry, but I considered it.

I tried to think of something coherent to say about how much I loved this, but I (obviously) didn't come up with much.

So instead, let me just say this: Read this. 

Read this if you have ever had a vision of your future and found yourself barreling away from it at a speed you cannot even begin to fathom. Read this if you are married, or if you are thinking about being married, or you might one day be married, or you think that people who get married are foolish. Read this if you've ever found yourself becoming someone you used to mock.

If you have fallen into, or out of love. If you have, or might have, or will never have children.

Just make sure that when you do read it, as short as it is, you give yourself plenty of time for the thinking and the reflecting. And keep a pen nearby for all the inevitable underlining.

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Dept. of Speculation | Jenny Offill | Knopf | Hardcover | January 2014 | 174 pages | Buy from a bookstore near you

Feminism is Not Dead, Ya'll.

Remember that time when a woman agreed to make 300 sandwiches for her boyfriend so he'd buy her a ring? And that other time when that college professor claimed that he only taught "real guy-guys", "heterosexuals," and didn't include women authors in his courses because he didn't think any women authors were worth teaching?

Yeah. Those are the things that make me all kinds of angry, angry, angry. And they are also reminders that as much as some people would like to believe feminism is dead, and that women's rights are said and done, that's actually not the case. And like any good bookworm, they are the kind of occurrences that send me back to my bookshelves to assemble a little stack of books by kick-ass women kicking ass:

Bossypants, by Tina Fey: Just as funny everything else Fey has ever done, but also smart and insightful. Fey narrates the audiobook herself, making it perhaps the best audiobook of all time, and doesn't shy away from what it's like to be a woman in a man's industry and how hard it is to balance her career with her family life. Proof, in case you needed it, that kick-ass feminists can be funny, too.

How to Be a Woman, by Caitlin Moran: If Fey wasn't enough proof that feminists can be funny, too, look no further than Moran, who writes candidly about everything from puberty to marriage to abortion with a sense of humor that is at once in-your-face and thought-provoking. Moran doesn't shy away from the word "feminist," and doesn't think you should, either.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, by Mindy Kaling: This one I haven't read (yet), but a recent Bookriot podcast equated it to Bossypants, only from a younger point-of-view (Kaling is about 10 years younger than Fey). This audiobook is also narrated by the author, and is more than on my list.

Why Have Kids?, by Jessica Valenti: Valenti's book made me think, and then think again and again and again, about motherhood and parenthood in the U.S. Since its release, works like Lean In have dominated the discussion about women "having it all," but Valenti's work lay the foundation for these conversation. Why Have Kids? pushes readers in no one direction, but encourages us to take a good hard look at motherhood in this country before diving into the debate. Or maybe to just stop debating and start supporting, instead.

Wonder Women, by Deborah Spar: Spar explores how women's lives have--and haven't--changed since the "end" of the women's lib movement. Subtitled "Sex, Power, and the Quest for Perfection," this is another one I haven't read but hope to get to soon.

The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood: Not all feminist writings are non-fiction, and Atwood's chilling dystopian novel is all the proof we need. Set in a not-too-distant future in which women have been turned into breeding machines and little more, it's all too believable for comfort. Audible has an audio version narrated by Claire Danes that I highly recommend, if you like audiobooks.

What would you add to or remove from this list?