Forever Fikry

Ah, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry.  A book for book lovers and lovers of love.  Gabrielle Zevin knew what she was doing when she penned this modern classic.  Because no one who builds his life around books could ever be truly hopeless.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you can hop on over to the book review I wrote nearly five years ago.  Or, you can hang here and go with the flow of my musings.  No wrong answers!

When I heard that The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry was coming out as a movie, I was beyond excited.  But also a little wary.  Because the thing about watching screen adaptations of beloved books is that they sometimes come up short.  It's a gamble, agreeing to let yourself see someone else's interpretation of something that struck such a cord with you.  Then again, I have very little self control.  So you know I was streaming in seconds.  

Fikry is played by Kunal Nayyar, and his love interest, Amelia, is played by Lucy Hale.  Now, I'm going to pause here.  Because anyone who knows this book knows that Zevin describes Fikry's and Amelia's physical appearances as nothing to write home about.  Their plainness is, in fact, in stark contrast with the stunning beauty of Fikry's late wife.  So having two lookers play these lead roles rings just a little untrue.  Not that I minded much, because I love Nayyar and Hale, and both are wonderful in the movie.  

That said, everything else about the movie is just like the book.  The quaint island town, Fikry's initially self-destructive life, the mystery (for yes, there is one), the love letter to books, and the bittersweet charm of tragedy and hope and then tragedy again shaping the lives of these ordinary yet extraordinary people.  It's even funny.  I could go on and on, but you've (probably) read enough of my book and movie reviews to know that poignance is what makes my heart beat.  Which means, of course, lots of tears at the end, but the kind that made me happy I saw it.

Because even though I said tragedy, hope, then tragedy again, I forgot to add that last and all-important hope.  As The Washington Post says on the cover, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry is "marvelously optimistic."  Not in saying that things will always go well or even stay well.  But in saying that they can be good, even beautiful, for awhile, showing us life's preciousness.

And that's why in both book and movie form, I'm now and forever team Fikry.

Saab Story Dory: Still Waters Pun Deep

We all know a grumpy old man.  Or at the very least have seen one on TV, whether he be an old-in-spirit-only curmudgeon like Ron Swanson, or one of the classic geriatrics from (what else?) Grumpy Old Men.  People say that oldsters get so crotchety because they've endured so much and have had enough already.  Which I thought I understood.  But then I read Fredrik Backman's A Man Called Ove and realized I didn't understand anything. 

Not too long ago, I read -- and very much enjoyed -- Backman's Anxious People.  But A Man Called Ove was Backman's first novel.  I'd always wanted to read it, and when Ellie of Ivy's Closet and Caitlin & Megan said I'd like it, I made an Amazon order.  As a librarian, Ellie knows books.

So, Ove.  When we meet him in suburban Sweden, he's the epitome of the irate, set-in-his-ways, hates-everyone senior citizen.  He loathes technology, people who aren't punctual, and cats.  He's always driven a Saab and distrusts anyone who drives anything else.  Never mind that he's only fifty-nine.  Ove is the kind that's been old all his life.  But the death of his adored wife, Sonja, as well as the loss of his job have exacerbated his already cantankerous ways.  Every morning, he patrols his neighborhood in search of burglars and other miscreants.  He oils his kitchen counters whether they need it or not.  He fixes things in his toolshed.  And he does it all not to pass the time, but because he needs to be useful.  As Ove's own Sonja said, ' "All people want to live dignified lives; dignity just means something different to different people." ' (274)

Backman does this clever thing where he alternates between Ove's past and present, making everything seem at the same time old-fashioned and timeless.  It turns out that Ove's life has been exceptionally sad, and Backman fleshes out each flashback with details so heartbreaking -- and, yes, sometimes funny -- that I couldn't help but be endeared to this angry old man who has very good reasons for being angry after all.  In this way, A Man Called Ove reminds me of another beloved book, Gabrielle Zevin's The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry.  Both are about seemingly misanthropic men who've been burned but turn things around just in time to trust again and appreciate life.  And that's my favorite kind of story.  

If Ove knew that he was the subject of this post -- well, if Ove were a real person and knew that he was the subject of this post -- then he would hate it, right down from the publicity (if you could call it that) to the hot pink background.  And that amuses me. 

Because documenting stuff with humor and heart is where I find my dignity.

And I like to think that Ove would respect that -- if only because I made a pun about Saab.

Library Living, the Gift That Keeps Giving . . .

. . . even though I don't like libraries (too smelly).  But I love what they represent.  That is, books.  And in this world, there are few things more comforting than books about books and the people who love them.  Because I'm one of those people too.  So, The Bookish Life of Nina Hill was on my short list of must reads.  If the title sounds a little like The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, then 1) congrats, you've been listening! and 2) that's because it's in that league.  Like A.J., Nina is all about stories.  And knowledge.  And sharing those stories and that knowledge with fellow bookworms who appreciate them.

Here are some things about Nina:

She's twenty-nine, lives in Los Angeles, and works in an independent bookstore.  She's the captain of a pub trivia team called Book 'Em, Danno.  She has an absentee, award-winning photojournalist mother and a father she's never met.  She's witty and arch, sometimes silent, sometimes outspoken.  Order is very important to her, and she enjoys spending time alone.  Also, she's anxious.  And like many anxious people, she's ruled by a mix of imagination and restraint.  I liked her immediately.      

The Bookish Life of Nina Hill is somehow both light and heavy, like ambrosia or non-diet canned pears.  Like its heroine, this novel is organized and moves nimbly from point A to point B.  Yet despite its sound structure, it falls firmly into the camp of books that are about thoughts as opposed to actions.  If it were a movie (and I hope that someday it will be!), then it'd be an indie film instead of a big budget blockbuster.  To me, that's the fiction hall of fame sweet spot.  Quirky and cute and just a little bit sad and played out in the life of the mind.  But instead of nattering on and giving away the ending, I'll share three of the quotes that made me fold the pages.  By the way, I used to think that page folding was blasphemy.  But I've since accepted it as one of the best parts of being a bibliophile.  Not to mention a good reason to say neigh to the Kindle.

A quote that's Nina in a nutshell:

"Nina worried she liked being alone too much; it was the only time she ever fully relaxed.  People were . . . exhausting.  They made her anxious.  Leaving her apartment every morning was the turning over of a giant hourglass, the mental energy she'd stored up overnight eroding grain by grain.  She refueled during the day by grabbing moments of solitude and sometimes felt her life was a long-distance swim between islands of silence.  She enjoyed people -- she really did -- she just needed to take them in homeopathic doses; a little of the poison was the cure." (17).

A quote that's lyrical and mentions makeup:

"As the light dwindled, palm trees and distant buildings would become black silhouettes against an impossibly rosy backdrop.  Sunsets are beautiful in California, the cornflower blue of the sky diluting as the light fades into a teenage girl's pastel palette of nail colors." (96) 

A quote that's a little bit serious and a little bit funny:

"It (The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran) contained Nina's favorite saying: You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.  She wanted to wear it on a T-shirt, embroider it on a pillow, or maybe tattoo it on her wrist.  But the trouble with wordy tattoos was that people start reading them, then you have to stand still while they finish, and then they look up at you and frown and you have to explain yourself . . . Way too much human interaction, plus also the needles, the pain, the fear of the needles and pain.  So, no tattoo, but an embroidery wasn't out of the question." (183)

In the way of novels, things happen to Nina.  These things, of course, involve other people, presenting her with the challenge of expanding her comfort zone while remaining true to herself.  So yeah, she's like A.J. and Sara and Susan and Eleanor and countless other outsider characters.  Which is to say, human.  And, despite her issues, perhaps not so odd after all.

So, here's to word nerds everywhere and living one's best life by -- and not by -- the book.

Sounds like an epic tattoo -- er, embroidery -- to me.

Wardrobe Wars: Jane of the Concrete Jungle

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin, is one of my favorite books.  So I was excited to read another Zevin novel, and the one I chose was wonderful too, although in a different way.  (Also, the cover is cool.)  Young Jane Young is the story of a political intern who has an affair with a married congressman and how it upends her life.  "Ugh, sounds gross," you may be thinking, or maybe even, "Ooh, juicy, bring it on!"  (Hey, I don't know what you're into.)  But Young Jane Young isn't a salacious soap opera.  It's a thoughtful -- and yes, sometimes funny -- look at how society often paints women as villains, even when it's the men who are wrong.  Zevin tells Jane from the point of view of five women, and it isn't until the end that we hear from the intern herself.  On her very first day, she struggles to choose a professional outfit.  Her conundrum is relatable and angsty and sets the scene for the cautionary tale she becomes.

"You lay three options on your extralong twin bed: a black stretch crepe cocktail dress, a navy blue summer-weight wool dress that you fear might be snug as you haven't tried to zip it up in more than two years, and a white blouse and gray kilt combo.

If you choose the black dress, turn to page 4.

If you choose the blue dress, turn to page 5.

If you choose the white blouse and kilt, turn to page 11.

You choose the white blouse because you think it's the most professional, but then, when you put it on, the buttons strain across your breasts, creating eye-shaped gaps.  You don't have time to change.  You don't want to be late.  If you hunch your shoulders forward, the eyes mainly close.  . . . You sloppily apply red lipstick to your mouth.  You are not good with makeup because you rarely wear any.  When you went to your prom, your mom put on your makeup for you.  Yes, you know how that makes you sound.  You and your mom are close.  She's probably your best friend though you are not hers.  Her best friend is Roz Horowitz, who is funny and, in the way of many funny people, occasionally mean." (208-209).

The intern is vulnerable.  She's not some tramp out to trap a sugar daddy; she's a clueless coed who doesn't know how to dress.  So later, when her supervisor pulls her aside and tells her that her outfit is inappropriate, it's all the more wrenching.  And then, when she bursts into tears in the break room and the congressman comforts her, well, it's pretty clear who's out to trap whom.

I think Zevin tells us all this at the end so that for most of the story we see the intern through the world's judgy eyes.  By the time we find out how everything really went down, we're as jaded as everyone else, making the impact of the truth even greater.  Also, the Choose Your Own Adventure style, which Zevin carries throughout the intern's narrative, is genius.  It shows that the intern has choices but that she doesn't always make the right ones.  Because she bases everything on the sometimes compromised, sometimes simplistic moral code she grew up with, making her ill-equipped to deal with adult situations.  (To give you an idea, her dad cheats on her mom and she thinks that Belle should've picked Gaston instead of the Beast).  She's an idealist masquerading as a cynic who thinks that women have all the tools they need to do battle with men -- even when those men are older and more powerful.  So she has to learn that men and women aren't treated equally before she realizes that they should be treated equally and that that's what feminism really means.  It sounds straightforward but isn't.  Especially to those coming of age in "modern" times when everything seems evolved and okay on the surface.

Still, the intern may be down, but she isn't out.  Life may have knocked her around, but it's also made her resilient.  And so after we see her fall apart, it's favorite-song-on-the-radio inspiring to see her start to put herself back together.

When the intern is older -- and no longer an intern -- she goes to an important event in an outfit that makes her feel confident:

"You put on a red suit.  You spend no time making this decision.  You don't even consider wearing anything else.  The fit is perfect and you know it will photograph well.  You're older now, and you know what looks good on you." (293)

I love the symbolism in this.  It's no-nonsense and neat, a nonsexist way to show how clothes make the woman.

Finally, Jane has arrived.

Feather Your Quest: Owl Always Love Books

Woodland Wonders Necklace

Top: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: T.J. Maxx

Shoes: Delicious, Zulilly

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels

Owls.  They're wise, cerebral, know-it-alls, sometimes evil-eyed, but ultimately charming.  Everyone loves an owl (you have only to peruse Pinterest or your local Target to know that it's true).  And everyone loves A.J. Fikry.  Or at least they do once they get to know him.

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin, is one of those rare novels that is equal parts plot and character.  What do I mean by that?  Well, some books are all intrigue and action, whereas others are all inner monologue and/or character studies.  (For the record, I'm on team character.)  But The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry is both.  Which is to say that it's really good.

When we first meet A.J., he's in a bad way.  His beloved wife has died in a car accident, and his bookstore is losing money.  So he drinks and eats TV dinners and wishes that it all could be over.  Curmudgeonly and introspective, A.J. is also a little snobby, especially when it comes to books, and people often find him off-putting.  Which is just as well, because he prefers books to people.  But paired with his pessimism is a droll, wry wit, a flicker of brilliance and warmth that makes you think, I'd like to hang out with this guy.  This guy is one of the ones who gets it.

The thing about A.J. is, he's a good person -- he just doesn't know it.  Not until two extraordinary things happen: 1) Someone steals his priceless book of Edgar Allen Poe poems.  2)  Someone abandons a baby in his apartment.  The Poe book was meant to fund his retirement, and when it vanishes, he feels like his life vanishes with it.  As for the baby, A.J. doesn't like children; he doesn't even stock many children's books.  But it's when the book disappears and the baby appears that A. J.'s life begins, making him realize his potential and expanding his world in ways he never thought possible.  What happens in the end brings it all back full circle (and you know how I love a full circle), but I won't get into that so as not to be a spoiler.  I'll just say that everything in between the beginning and end hinges upon a delicate web of mysteries that are all connected.  Also, that this book isn't all serious symbols (although those certainly abound).  It's also funny and, dare I say, sweet (although I know A.J., even in his reformed state, would hate that).  It's a book about life and a book about books and how the two are intertwined.  As A.J. puts it:

"We read to know we're not alone.  We read because we are alone.  We read and we are not alone.  We are not alone."  (249)

I love this quote because it describes how I feel about reading.  That it's the great equalizer, a passport into the hearts and minds of people we may not like or even know.  That it lets us look past the noise of everyday life, giving us knowledge, empathy, and an understanding of our place in the world.  Also, it comes in handy when there's only football and Family Feud on TV. 

A.J. knew all this and then some.  Which is another way that he's like the owl.  Both in this Woodland Wonders Necklace and in nature.  Also spooky stories where the mean old owl turns out to be kindly.  His story is a hopeful one, reminding us that a little optimism (and okay, being the victim of a couple of very specific and well-thought-out crimes) can go a long way.

So, thanks, A.J.  For giving me one more reason to read past my bedtime.