Just Not Feelin’ It

So I’m supposed to be reading Vanity Fair for my bookclub.  Trouble is, I really don’t like it.  I knew it would be a bit of a challenge to stick with such a long book, but I had no idea that I really would find so much of it difficult to read.  There are TONS of time bound cultural, linguistic, and political allusions within the chapters I’m reading and I have to admit it’s quite frustrating.  I’m actually quite surprised.  I don’t normally shy away from reading stuff like this– I love a good British novel– but not this time.  I’d benefit from reading this with a class.  I feel like I need a ton more background.  Anyone have any suggestions for where to look?  I need to see if anyone’s done a book club reading guide for it.    Otherwise I’m doomed.  I just don’t want to spend the time on it any more and that makes me feel bad.  I love the woman who chose this and I want to slog through it if only for her sake.  I like to think I’m up for a challenge but…..my reading time is so precious I hate spending it on something I don’t like.

Good, Rich Earth

I finished Jumpha Lahiri’s collection of short stories, Unaccustomed Earth, this past week.  I love that woman’s writing.  She has a way of communicating the deepest unspoken truths about relationships that moves me.  After reading each one of her perfectly crafted short stories I find I have to stop and think about it for a few days.  I find myself thinking about them in the shower, or while driving, or talking with friends.

When I first found Lahiri (I’ve read The Namesake and Interpreter of Maladies) I was astounded to see how relevant she was to my life and experiences.  I had the misperception that her work would transport me to someone else’s Bengali or Bengali-American life and experiences– instead, on page after page I found myself relating to her characters as if I had written the stories or she was writing about my family. The cultural differences are fascinating, but actually fade away as the truths of the stories reveal themselves.

I can’t say enough about Lahiri’s work nor can I recommend this book of stories any more highly.  How privleged I was to read both Strout’s Olive Kittridge and Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth in the same month.  Wow!