A Captain's Duty

This particular story flew onto my radar by way of the thing that controls all of our televisions: The Today Show, which is regrettable for a few reasons: 1) The story of Captain Phillips and his kidnapping by Somali pirates, as documented in his memoir, A Captain's Duty, happened not that long ago in April of 2009 but I was just made aware of it in December 2013; and B) The show was interviewing Tom Hanks about his role in the newly released film as Captain Phillips himself. *shudder* After spending most of The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons wishing someone else had played Robert Langdon, I find it hard to watch a Tom Hanks movie that's not A League of Their Own. So when I heard them discuss the movie, I jumped up to my computer to search for the book. No way there wasn't a book to precede this new Hollywood spectacle. Of course there was a book, and fortunately written by the Captain himself (and Stephan Talty).

I read this in December, long after I had called it quits on the Summer of the Memoir. But after reading several non-fiction, I now consider it one of my favorite genres, and one that I'm inexplicably drawn to. A Captain's Duty did not disappoint.

Phillips is an experienced Merchant Marine with a love and passion for the trade that not everyone shares or understands. He's dealt with his share of ups and downs, crews that wouldn't cooperate or that he had to replace altogether, near-death accidents, and the surprisingly common pirate warnings and seizes. He's learned that remaining calm is the best route to take especially, and which he exemplifies, as he's taken by pirates to use as ransom on the mainland, only heightening his danger as the chance for locating him once on land would be slim to none.

Written with the blunt honesty of a man who spends most of his life at sea, but with an easy-to-understand flow even when it came time to insert all of those blasted Merchant Marine facts and figures, Phillips expertly conveys the waves of emotions during those perilous days at sea. Gripping yet solemn, once Phillips is taken hostage by pirates, the reader can almost imagine him huddled in the life-raft with a pen and paper, documenting every move and breath rather than suffering as he did. Or maybe that is just more comforting for us readers to picture.

The story takes a bit to get going because, as with any book, a certain amount of set-up information is involved. And if you watched any of the news coverage back in 2009, as I didn't because I haven't had cable in a few years, you already know what went down. Was it important is that he lived to tell the tale. And oh what a tale it is, the least we can do is carry it around in our tote and read what actually happened instead of the overblown Hollywood version.

Dark Places

Gillian Flynn does not mess around. When she says she's going to take you to some dark places, boy does she mean it. After finishing Gone Girl, I wasn't sure I'd ever be mentally prepared to step back into the disturbing worlds she seems so hell-bent on creating in such vivid, morbid detail. But I found myself in a bad mood for about a week and was inexplicably drawn to Dark Places, knowing I was only guaranteed an ending, not whether it would be a good one.

Set in both 1985 and present day, Flynn takes us on a mysterious journey of murder, Satan worship, and family drama. Libby is the sole survivor of "The Satan Sacrifice of Kinnakee, Kansas," and to say her emotional scars run deep is a vast understatement. To say her pockets run just as deep is a misconception that leads to her using her story and involvement in the murder as a way to keep afloat a lifestyle she's not all that interested in. But what she inevitably discovers is that what she thought she knew isn't what she knew at all, and that while she was the one person to help convict the killer 25 years ago, she's probably the only one who knows the least about what happened.

Just reading the back book cover and it's no big surprise who the killer is. Or is it? Like Sharp Objects and Gone Girl, the reader goes through the range of emotions of it being obvious who did it but maybe they didn't do it, not having any idea who did it, thinking every character did it, then figuring out who did it and thinking, D'oh! Why didn't I think of that before? But what I most appreciate about Flynn - besides her penchant for going where we're all thinking without holding back - is that, as the reader, we unravel the mystery right along with the main character. Too many mysteries I've read have the protagonist figuring everything out long before the reader is supposed to, and patronizes the reader by making them wait to find out what they know. With Libby, we had the pleasure of the cogs in our brain turning right along with her's, and thankfully only she was subjected to the immediate result.

An incredibly dark story written with zero glints of sunlight, Flynn enlightens the dark places hidden in all of us and what sets them free and what keeps them in check by our morals. She subtly breaks it down to reveal that none of us are very different and that all of us are just a few misunderstandings away from turning into the darkness ourselves. A must-read you won't mind carrying in your tote - or not even have to since it's completely plausible to finish in a weekend - Flynn expertly weaves together what is great about Gone Girl and what is great about Sharp Objects: mystery with just enough creep to keep it intriguing, and horrifying while still maintaining a bit of fantasy. Or at least that's what I tell myself in order to get to sleep at night...

Frozen In Time

I know I routinely tout that there isn't anything I won't read (except that time I refused to read The Girl Who Played with Fire). I'm still disappointed I misplaced The Book of Mormon an Arizona Senator gave me when I was in my early 20's, and I've tried reading the Bible a few times but have never gotten further than the apple. When they find one that reads like a novel, let me know. But it's not like I refuse to read historical non-fiction, it's just that I've never considered it before. Like the Fantasy genre, it has never entered my book-verse. But I read and enjoyed Game of Thrones so I can read Frozen In Time: An Epic Story of Survival and a Modern Quest for Lost Heroes of WWII and enjoy that, too. And I did.

If I were to pick up a historical non-fiction of my own volition, a story about any war would not be it. While incredibly interesting, when it starts to get down to details like airplane types, bomb types, rankings, etc. my brain goes numb. So this book was introduced to me by my friend who agreed to read The Gringo with me if I read this with her, and I have to say, she made a much better choice.

A professor at Boston University, Mitchell Zuckoff embarks on a highly improbable mission to recover downed airplanes in the expanse of Greenland, lead by a man whose sole purpose in life is to recover people and items from the war and return them to US soil. Missions of this exact nature were tried and failed in the past, making government intervention highly unlikely and unstable at best. Without losing hope and with time rapidly closing in before nasty-ER weather smothered Greenland, the crew and Zuckoff, documenting the expedition, reached Greenland with no other option than to find the Duck, a WWII amphibious airplane that disappeared while trying to rescue another crash.

Zuckoff expertly weaves together two enthralling tales: one of the courageous, heroic, and amazing men struggling to survive in half an airplane during a rough Arctic winter (like there's any other kind); the other a modern-day adventure of mystery, intrigue, danger, drama, and suspense as they try to solve the mystery of exactly what happened all those years ago. Although the beginning takes a bit of effort to trudge through thanks to those darn things called "facts" and "information," and given this wouldn't have been my first book choice....ever.... I was surprised to find myself unable to put it down in under 100 pages (if it takes over 100 pages I start to wonder why I'm wasting my time with your book). I even hauled it in my tote across the country to - how ironic is this? - Boston (if I had read the book jacket more closely, I probably would have stalked him while I was in the area).

Written clearly, concisely, and with only a hint of personal feelings about what was happening at any given moment, Zuckoff takes something that could have ended up extremely dry and turned it into something so thrilling that the moment I finished the book, I tweeted him begging to tell me a follow-up was in the works (as far as I know, no; but he did send me the link to his blog).

Finishing this in a weekend would be a little ambitious, there is a lot of information and a lot of things that promote putting it down every few minutes and staring off into space to contemplate. Thanks to this pick, I've added his previous best-seller, Lost in Shangri-La: Escape from a Hidden World - A True Story, which received high-praise from people I take book advice from: my friend and my Uncle.

I'm sure most war-based, historical non-fiction books are interesting but since this is my one and only experience, I'm going to go ahead and recommend you read this one. It's one of the few I've "taken for the team," and read on hard-cover, and I'm glad I did.

The Gringo

I came across this title by way of a virtual goodreads.com friend. I read the description and instantly added it to my list for Summer of the Memoir. Having momentarily fancied the idea of joining the Peace Corps after college then realizing I'd have to leave all of my high heels at home, the subject matter instantly piqued my interest.

Like anyone entering government work, J. Grigsby Crawford jumped head-first into his Peace Corps assignment with grandiose dreams of changing the world, one poverty-stricken village at a time. Initially put-off by the recruitment and training regimen, which used to be difficult but now more closely resembles grade school Field Day, Crawford ultimately follows through and asks for the most popular and widely-known (and most likely to lead to a high-level government job) assignment: remote South America. But upon his arrival, things are off to a very weird, very unpredictable start.

Although the population of the area he was supposed to be helping quickly rebutted him and put his life in danger on numerous occasions, Crawford never lost his desire for the dream. Working tirelessly to do something, he wound up making the most difference (mostly to himself) in only a short amount of time, and spent the rest worrying if he would live from one day to the next. His account isn't exactly what I would call a glowing recommendation for the Peace Corps, or any government-run agency.

As most of us do, I looked up to the Peace Corps as something I'd only ever aspire to be like. I put the organization and the people in it on a pedestal of greatness; stronger, more capable, and fearless than I ever could hope to be. I feel powerless without my high heels. While Crawford lived up to that embodiment, his account of the organization and its members is rather disappointing and frustrating.

An interesting story with twists and turns you don't see coming, The Gringo is more than just a memoir but a tale of survival, idiocy, hopes of changing the world, and just how difficult people can make that be. Written more like a working blog than a memoir, Crawford takes you along for the ride, random observations of human nature and the occasional swear word just in case his mother isn't reading included. He learned a lot during his travels abroad and we learned something from him thanks to his candor and unwillingness to sugar coat his experience. His ultimate feelings about what he was trying to accomplish were quite disappointing, but had it been us, we would have felt a lot worse.

A short, relatively uncomplicated read that flows more like a blog, finishing this in a weekend and/or hauling around in your tote isn't any more difficult than dealing with intense genital pain in the middle of South America.

Twenties Girl

I make no secret of how much I love Sophie Kinsella. Freshly on board the chick-lit train thanks to another one of my faves, Jennifer Weiner, I happened across Confessions of a Shopaholic back when I didn't have a husband or baby and could afford to be a shopaholic myself. Knowing me, really, how could I *not* have picked it up? I had found my literary soul-sister! And to my jubilation, other books with the same character and basic subplot soon followed (find my review of Mini Shopaholic HERE).

When I found other novels of her's - The Undomestic Goddess, Can You Keep A Secret?, Remember Me? - I was hesitant to be introduced to characters that weren't the lovable, relatable, irresistible Becky Bloomwood. Had I indulged my hesitation, I would have missed out on some very remarkable novels.

As much of a book-lover as I am, I don't keep up with the up-to-the-minute literary news. I'm often surprised to learn my favorite authors have many more books than I realized, Kinsella chief among them (and that's not counting the other names she writes under). First published in 2009, I snagged Twenties Girl a few years later as a paperback (can't stand reading hardcover but I'll take one for the team now and again), and included it in my must-read vacation-reads.

Coming off A Dog's Journey, I wanted something fun, frothy, ridiculous, but still incredibly endearing, and I found that all amongst the 400-ish pages of Kinsella's Twenties Girl. A young woman in her twenties, Lara, is befriended by an odd guest at her great-Aunt's funeral with a very interesting demand request. Sucked into a world that is the past amongst the present, Lara and her friend become on odd match against the world but embody the promise that it is not what is outside that matters most, but what is on the inside. And that first impressions can be misleading.

Written with patented Kinsella charm, humor, empathy, and a real investment in the characters, Twenties Girl is a laugh-out-read that makes you wish the ridiculous story she weaves be even partly true. I was almost sad when it was over, wishing the misadventures of Lara and her world would never end. But Kinsella will no doubt create more fantastically interesting characters for me to get wrapped up in and I can't wait. (Remember Me? is calling to me from my bookshelf.)

A Dog's Journey

I love animals but refuse to watch movies where they are the star (Milo & Otis, Homeward Bound, Marley and Me, Babe, etc.). Books are only slightly more tolerable and even then I approach them with extreme trepidation. But after finishing A Dog's Purpose, the pull to finish "Buddy's" story proved too much and I borrowed the sequel, A Dog's Journey from a friend. I still had to build up some emotional stamina, though, and it sat on my end-table for a good month before I even considered picking it up.

Having just come off my Summer of the Memoir, and not in a bury-your-nose-in-a-book kind of mood, I jumped back into fiction with the doozy of them all: Fifty Shades Darker. As my vacation approached, I only wanted to keep things light but still wanted to get A Dog's Journey back to my friend before the end of time. And I DID NOT want to be reading a dog book when I was thousands of miles from my own fur-beasts. I didn't have their comfort when I sobbing through the end of Marley and Me and I wasn't going to let that happen again.

It's a general rule that sequels are never as good as the original and, while enjoyable, A Dog's Journey, easily fell right into that category. True to its name, A Dog's Purpose tells the story of dog trying to find the meaning of his life and answer the question he's sick of asking: when will my purpose have been fulfilled? So, A Dog's Journey is just that: the journey of a dog who discovers his purpose.

In that same vein, A Dog's Journey is more of a story about the people in the dog's life rather than the dog itself, leaving me with the most important lesson of all: don't trust anyone who doesn't like dogs.

While not entirely heartbreaking as animal stories tend to be, a great deal of fun was missing from this book that was present in Purpose, and even Marley and Me, and replaced with a certain amount of anxiety, making this more of an emoti-read than it already is by nature. I did, however, manage to hold myself together until the very end.

While the characters, author, and reader got exactly what they wanted by the end, it came with some lingering questions for me. Having read the entirety of all his lives, the things he learned, the people he saved, the work he did, the love and companionship he provided, I still wasn't exactly clear on his purpose, or the reason his journey finally ended. Not to be a spoiler, perhaps it was just as a result of my own dimwittedness.

If you're me and only going to read one dog/animal book this year (although I doubt I'll even do that), I would suggest something other than A Dog's Journey. Its prequel is better, more heartwarming, light, and funny. But if I'm going to be honest and recommend a dog book, it's going to be Marley and Me. And, once again, don't waste your time with the movie.

Wild

After finishing Amanda Knox's Waiting to be Heard, I was in the mood for more female empowerment and picked up Cheryl Strayed's Wild as my second in the Summer of the Memoir. Or, at least, what I thought would be female empowerment.

Don't get me wrong; there is no way I could have done what Strayed did. After the way her hike initially started, I would have bailed before I lost sight of the highway. Her's is a story of a lost woman thrown into yet more upheaval at the death of her mother. Desperate and destined to be alone, Strayed makes every effort to push the people who care about her as far away as possible. Then epitomizes the very definition of being alone by hiking through the wilderness - the Pacific Crest Trail, specifically - refusing any indication of togetherness, camaraderie, or, well, the opportunity to not be alone. But her trip has a purpose: the ever-cliched, "find herself," and rid herself of the demons that possess her to crave her solitary existence. Her's is a story built on the theme of being completely alone, highlighting both the benefits and terrible pitfalls, sometimes literally.

As readers, it's natural for us to place ourselves in the character's position and imagine what we would do, what decisions we'd make, if we were them. Especially if what we're reading is non-fiction. Had I been Strayed, the first thing I would have thought when considering this wilderness endeavor was, "What about all the freaks I'm going to meet along the way?" And then I probably would have scrapped the whole trip altogether. My friend read the book with me and we both wondered why she didn't think to bring a gun among her condoms and other relatively unnecessary items crammed in her pack. But what I ultimately really enjoyed about the story was that she didn't encounter any real freaks. There was the odd-ball here and there, but most everyone restored the human spirit that we'll help someone just because it's the right thing to do.

Strayed's adventure also proved that no matter how meticulous you plan your life or anything in it, it can be shot to shit in a matter of seconds (but anyone who's been pregnant and wanted a pickle only to see it come back 30 minutes later could tell you that). And that, ultimately, in this big, bad, world, no matter how much us humans try to convince each other it's the other way around, Mother Nature is what really rules this beast.

Of course, the story wouldn't have been interesting if everything had gone exactly as it should have. There were ups and downs, literally and figuratively, re-routes, no water where there should have been (I was genuinely scared at that point), misplaced trails (pretty scared during that, too), wild animals, and the ultimate fear and set-back of unpredictability.

I suggested this book as a summer-read to my book club the year before, touting it as a better, not-as-ridiculous option to Eat, Pray, Love, a memoir-turned-movie that was treated as the Bible for women. I thought it was good, but nothing as life-changing as my friends insisted. And I definitely didn't waste time seeing the movie. With that said, I definitely appreciated and enjoyed Wild more than Eat, Pray, Love and found it a lot more relatable even though both stories center around incredibly selfish people with self-destructive tendencies. But who can't relate to that? Perhaps Eat, Pray, Love is geared more towards the older generation, already settled but not wanting to be, while Wild is for those still young, unsure of what roads to take in life but it's either hike alone through the woods or eventually wind up in jail on drug charges.

Well written and succinctly told, Cheryl Strayed's Wild is definitely worth hauling in your tote, and something you'll polish off in a weekend. She takes you on her emotional and physical journey, leaving the reader feel as if they were walking beside her, feet-achingly exhausted but perhaps learning something about themselves along the way.

If you're going to read Strayed's adventure, and I highly recommend that you do, you better get on it as Hollywood has turned it into a movie, out sometime this year. I'm always a proponent of reading the book before seeing the movie (or, more often than not, *instead* of seeing the movie), but in this case I'm particularly worried about the story being made into some thriller-bordering-on-horror flick given the premise of the single, blond, white female in the woods alone. I shudder at the mere thought of what those "creative" types could come up with after the liberties Stanley Kubrick took with The Shining (nope, I'll never get over it). With Reese Witherspoon starring as Strayed, my hope is somewhat restored.

I don't remember if Strayed had decided to write the book of her hike before she embarked on it, or if it was something that came together later, but its existence highlights one major, underlying theme: you are never really alone.