Britt-Marie Was Here

I last encountered Fredrik Backman's work in A Man Called Ove, and with Britt-Marie Was Here, he clearly establishes it that the former was no one-off: the latter is equally as masterful and lovely.

At its most elemental, Britt-Marie Was Here is a book about the human condition. Birtt-Marie is quirky and fastidious and has led a quiet life as a homemaker; now at 60, she's made the first really big decision of her life in looking for a job. The book opens, in fact, with her at an employment agency, displaying her quirks in all their glory, equal parts irritating and endearing. (To the reader. To the employment agency staff, I think it's safe to say endearing is not the adjective of choice.)

Ultimately, Britt-Marie lands a job as caretaker of sorts at the recreation center in a largely neglected community where the soccer-mad children's most fervent wish is to reconstitute the local soccer team, which is easier said than done given that their field has been sold and their coach has recently died. Like Ove, the resulting stew is the best mixture of hilarity and poignancy, peppered sharply with wise observations on life's bittersweet choices.

So much of the book, in fact, is about choice, and what it means to make choices, and the events that  seemingly innocuous choices set in motion, and the interconnectedness of it all. In a year of many great books, this might be the greatest I've read yet.

Five stars.

Blood River: The Terrifying Journey through the World's Most Dangerous Country

Between Spillover, Dark Star Safari, Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness, and the Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu, I felt I had a well-rounded sense of the dangers that might lurk around the corner of any number of African countries, from the hazards of travel to militants, terrorists, and thugs to your run-of-the-mill, mind-numbingly-terrifying, bleed-from-every-orifice-as-you-lay-dying disease. Not that I expected to encounter any of these scenarios on my own African foray, of course.

In any case, the title of Tim Butcher's travelogue says it all: a terrifying journey through [one of] the world's most dangerous countries. Is Somalia more dangerous than the DRC? Syria? Yemen? It hardly seems to matter. The man spent months traversing the bush, battling bad water, deadly mosquitoes, and the logistics of traveling through a country where nature has reclaimed all but the largest of roads. Everything - everything - is in short supply and everyone lives in near-constant fear of what or who is around the next bend - most of all the feared mai-mai fighters whose ability to vanish into the bush is as troubling as their violence and tactics.

So why, one might ask does Butcher undertake this adventure? Ostensibly, he seeks to retrace the steps of nineteenth century explorer/adventurer H.M. Stanley whose own voyage down the Congo River ultimately led to the country's nearly-century-long experience with the brutality of colonialism, first as King Leopold's personal possession and later as a Belgian colony. More tangibly, it seems that retracing Stanley's route may have been the germ of the idea, but that once seeded, Butcher could not let it go - as an international correspondent who'd covered his fair share of combat zones and front lines, this journey became one more way to test himself and his mettle, mental as well as physical. To which I say, bully for him. It's hard to imagine anyone else mad enough to entertain such a journey (I mean, even Paul Theroux stuck to the overcrowded and rattletrap "taxis" and "buses" in Dark Star Safari), but it makes for a fascinating backdrop for the history and politics that Butcher deftly incorporates.

Four stars. 

American Princess: A Novel of First Daughter Alice Roosevelt

“I can be President of the United States, or I can control Alice. I cannot possibly do both.” 

I was familiar with one of Teddy Roosevelt’s more memorable lines, as well as his own back story (death of his wife and mother on the same day, subsequent abandonment of his two-day-old baby, followed by remarriage to a woman who wasn’t exactly crazy about her rambunctious step-daughter, and even Alice’s Pacific tour), but American Princess provides a far more in-depth look at Alice Roosevelt, from her days living in the White House to her days visiting it during the Kennedy years.

This is historical fiction at its finest, with the characters finely drawn from letters, diaries, newspaper clippings, interviews, and other source materials that allowed Stephanie Marie Thornton to create a detailed portrait of the life, loves, and legacy of Alice Roosevelt Longworth. (For what it’s worth, I previously knew about the womanizing husband, but not Aurora Borah Alice.) 

Thornton's work is fast-paced and lively, not unlike Roosevelt Longworth herself, it seems, and she manages to imbue all of the characters with a complexity that is undoubtedly true-to-life. (Case in point, I found Teddy himself much more sympathetic in this work than in any previous book I've read about him.) American Princess is beautifully written, and the scandals and hijinx are as readable as any tabloid, while being the heart and soul of a work with a true literary feel. This is historical fiction, but - and I mean this is all the best ways - it's sometimes difficult to discern where the truth stops and the fiction begins.

Five stars.

Tune In Tokyo:The Gaijin Diaries

Tim Anderson is a gay southerner who finds himself drifting after college and decides the cure for his ennui is a stint in Japan. A former English major, Tune-In Tokyo is the resulting memoir documenting his time teaching English in and around Tokyo.

This is not the finest book about Japan I’ve ever read, but it provides a unique perspective on life there, and particularly on the business of the ubiquitous English schools. (I know of ex-pats who’ve made a veritable fortune teaching English, so the demand is certainly there!) Anderson has no desire to go full-native, a la Jake Adelston and Tokyo Vice, but anyone who is familiar with the in, outs, and many quirks of Tokyo will find much to relate to in Anderson's work. 

3.5 stars