Try this experiment some time. Let’s say the conversation going on around you concerns sports—college, pro, doesn’t matter. At a pause, casually mention, with a straight face, “Did you guys know they’re adding origami as one of the Olympic sports?”

Observe the reactions of those around you. It’s a ridiculous idea, of course. Folding paper is a pastime, a hobby, perhaps an art form, but not a sport. And yet—is this idea all that strange, in the context of what’s going on in the world these days?

I predict (if you can avoid smiling) your friends will believe you. They’ll mutter, “No,” but in a bewildered, disgusted tone. They’re already primed to accept further evidence that the world has utterly lost its moorings and is increasingly becoming unrecognizable.

Then you can relieve them with the punchline: “But it’s only going to be pay-per-view.”

Plausibility is what gives the joke its edge. These days, bizarre changes, affecting everything we hold near and dear, are coming at us as if from a firehose. They keep us off-balance, and I think that’s by design. We can’t push back, not at everything! It might be okay if they were the kind of changes that make daily life more convenient, or if they represented advances in medicine or technology or knowledge of the cosmos. There’s been some of that, thankfully, but most of what we hear about are attacks on things that a lot of us thought were just fine as-is.

I guess news of the attacks makes for good headlines, good ratings. The media companies thrive by shocking their consumers. (Also, a population focused on one big story may miss some other development that the opinion-shapers want to downplay. I don’t need a tinfoil hat to say that much, do I?) And sure, media being what they are, the story is often exaggerated, blown all out of proportion, even (to fall back on an overused word) fake. Also, it generally is not presented as a bad thing. On the contrary, any bad guys as such a story unfolds tend to be the ones who object.

Even recognizing that change has always been an inescapable part of life, there’s no denying that we are suddenly being asked—no, told—to accept without demur radical departures from the most basic, fundamental concepts that have been underpinning civilization throughout history. In academia, industry, and government, people have been installed in prominent, well-paid positions from which they are telling us how it’s going to be henceforth.

Do I need to be specific about the long-held understandings that are now supposedly wrong? I don’t think a bullet list is necessary. You can supply examples, any one of which could take this post down its own zany rabbit-hole. Also, a list would rapidly become yesterday’s news, because it should be obvious to all that the train of upheavals is not stopping. Over the next year, the next five years, and beyond I guess, there will be more. What would it take to satisfy whatever, or whoever, is driving this? What would have to be achieved before the revolution stopped? I think it has already been established that utopia on almost any scale is beyond human grasp. Or is that lesson also no longer true?

Fair disclosure: I’m an old fart. Down through history old farts have been complaining that the world is going to pot, because their remembered or imagined good old days have passed away. I acknowledge that, but the phenomenon we are now seeing is something altogether different. No previous era has experienced such drastic change, driven by a self-anointed set of influencers, on such a broad scale.

Again, I’m striving not to cite examples, because any careless imposition of change, in itself, prompts thoughts of Chesterton’s fence. The fence is a metaphor for anything inherited from previous generations. If we assume those who came before us were ignorant, unenlightened fools, far inferior to ourselves, then we may tear it down without first asking whether it was put there for a good purpose.

Understanding whatever purpose it had, and maybe has, and discussing that purpose in good faith, calls for some critical thinking on everyone’s part. Maybe the time for pulling down that old fence has truly arrived, but we won’t reach agreement if one side relies on ad hominem attacks against the other.

Often, that’s the way these things unfold.

The discord is what led me to type up these thoughts. My sense of alarm has been building for years now, but I began to sense what the best-case solution upon hearing a pastor mention the famous aphorism, attributed to a contemporary of Martin Luther’s, “In essentials unity; in non-essentials liberty; in all things charity.” The pastor was talking about variations in dogma and practice among believers (e.g., whether it’s okay if some Christians celebrate Halloween). I immediately adapted it to the more secular issues that worry me.

What are the essentials in our society about which there has to be unity? In any dispute, that is the question that cannot be pushed aside. No matter how much importance or urgency somebody claims for the cause du jour, is there anything else that we agree must not be sacrificed in dealing with it? Assuming essentials are not in danger, then we are free to find a path forward that respects the rights and interests of those who want a given change and those who don’t. Because of the common ground we share, we should be able to disagree on lots of subjects without saying the other side is subhuman. That’s the charity available in following the above rule.

I still think there are enough of us capable of responding constructively if issues were raised and addressed in terms of our common ground. I think, or hope, most of us still value that common ground.

The alternative would not be a best-case solution. I would be one in which everybody loses, some now and the rest very soon.

Because it’s in my nature to do so (that is, because writing is the way I make sense of the world), I began journaling about my son Joseph within a few hours of his birth. That pastime gained importance when evidence suggested the little fellow might be having unusual problems, and especially when the experts I turned to for answers had nothing to offer.

I remember specific instances of scrawling observations, thoughts, and hopes back in those early days. Being an optimist, I expected the storm clouds to clear (the alternative being unthinkable): His issues would turn out to be not so critical, or—worst case—some specialist would appear on the scene with a remedy. Time passed but remedies proved scarce. I continued advocating for my son in ways that made sense at the time, and likewise continued writing about it. My memoir What About the Boy? was the eventual result.

I said many times that the writing (and subsequent efforts at burnishing, publishing, and promoting WATB) kept me sane and healthy, not to mention energized and very clear about my mission. There had to be at least some benefit of the endeavor, since as my wife Song Yi has often noted it accomplished nothing for Joseph.

Meanwhile, he had entered adulthood. I always kept an ear to the ground for possible new interventions that might enhance his life, but when they never led to anything I belatedly and mournfully faced up to reality.

Journaling continued only in occasional blog posts. Branching out, I tried my hand at verse (such as this) and a few modest short stories (such as this), and especially detailed critiques of the books I read (such as this). You can see from these examples where my focus remained. Looks like I’m stuck on one topic.

To belabor the obvious, all this prating is just documentation of my experience. I thought verbal output might improve matters, but, regrettably, it has all been about me. It has at times amounted to an excuse or an apology offered to myself for not being effective. The memoir’s title was a protest or an acknowledgment of that limitation. Turns out protest too accomplishes little.

Joseph’s point of view is still not easily accessible. Many’s the time I have wished I could spend a day perceiving the world as he does. What if we could trade places! I’d be willing.

Currently, I find myself journaling again. As noted in previous posts on this site, my boy has been ill since early 2016. His doctor accomplished wonders in maintaining the quality of his life during this time, but that gentleman now says the end is near. A hospice provider has been called. So, just as in his earliest days, I’m recording impressions, emotions, thoughts—simply because that’s how I try to cope.

My words are not adequate to the task. In just one short email, Joseph’s aunt nailed the situation better than I could: “It seems so unfair that this has happened after all of your care, your efforts, and your deep love. It is a stab to the heart.”

But again, that’s us talking. That’s our take on it. Although life has dealt Joseph a hand of cards that seems very bad, I, who know him better than anyone, have no idea what he sees in that hand. He can do without the physical pain, for sure. There was more than enough of that earlier, and soon it may be coming back. His inability to communicate hampers our efforts to alleviate it. But aside from that, I look at Joseph, at the person he has always been, and I see a little child. We know what Jesus said about little children. At no time in his 33 years of life has Joseph willfully behaved badly. He has never attempted to hurt anyone—never. He has always tried his very best to be cooperative and to follow directions, even when he didn’t much like them—always.

The truth of who he is puts all my words to shame.

Yesterday, following a typical morning round of errands, I found myself back at home relaxing in my favorite chair when my adult son Joseph approached with a request.

Joe’s requests are not easy to decipher, because he doesn’t talk, or write, or even sign beyond a couple very basic gestures. On this occasion he was tapping his knuckles together, which is supposed to mean “More.” For him, it can also indicate a general dissatisfaction or a request for something undefined. Given the time of day, I had a pretty good idea he was pointing out that it was lunch time. He wanted me to go downstairs and serve up something good to eat.

If and when you understand what’s needed, the simplest response with a dependent like Joe is just to go do it. However, I tend to coach him to make more of an effort to communicate. His response, after walking away and returning a few times, was to take hold of my hand, pull me to my feet, and coax me toward the stairs. At that point I went ahead and put lunch on the table.

Okay, that’s a frequent scenario at our house. It typifies the aftermath of the far more intense, fraught, and manic scenarios depicted in What About the Boy?, and it’s offered here as a lead-in to a meditation prompted by something I heard this morning in church.

(Incidentally, the above graphic comes from a back issue of our church’s newsletter. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to re-use it.)

The text this morning was the passage in Exodus when God directs Moses to go before Pharaoh on behalf of the enslaved Israelites, and Moses protests that, being “slow of speech and of tongue,” he won’t be equal to the task. But no, apparent disadvantages will not be a problem, the Lord says. “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord?”

The pastor’s intent was to say that if you choose to accept a task set before you, you’ll be empowered to succeed. But because Joseph is never far from my thoughts, the “who makes him mute” bit hijacked my attention. In all the years of Joseph’s life, I have never believed it was God that made him disabled, or wanted him so. The Bible is filled with accounts of healing, and I’ve assumed God’s will is for everyone to be whole. When we aren’t, it’s a consequence of something that occurred contrary to His will. But, being in control as He is, God could make things right.

That was always the issue for me. Why doesn’t He? Joe’s mom and I and a great many other people had certainly asked in every way we knew how, over a very long period of time. Surely, we reasoned, God would be glorified far more by Joseph’s being freed from his profound limitations, and by the effect that would have on everyone else.

Enabled or not, I’d thought this was the task set before me, and that success would be something akin to wellness for Joe, or at least acquisition of some options in life.

However, the above sequence regarding lunch is about as constructive as it ever gets around here.

Despite having been to a lot of churches, I’ve never heard any pastor (or anyone else for that matter) address this problem coherently. I now doubt anyone can. As shown in my book, there was a period of time when we were attracted to the promise of charismatic figures like Kenneth Copeland, who says it’s just common sense that we should claim our good (“The sweet by-and-by is fine, but what about the rotten here-and-now?”). I eventually decided human reason and common sense are not relevant in this case.

What is relevant? Surrender. Surrender and gratitude. I understand that to be the correct answer, but saying it with conviction is hard for me. Other aspects of life may go well. But for Joseph, someone’s always going to be helping him with his meals, and with everything else. And I’m never going to understand why.

This blog came into being as a backup to the memoir I wrote about raising my disabled son, who’s now 32 years old. In the years since publication, I’ve posted occasional updates about Joseph as well as odds and ends about striving in general.

I used to think the campaign to improve my Joseph’s prospects would be the ultimate uphill battle of our lives, but recent years have brought major new challenges. For example, in early 2016 he was diagnosed with melanoma. Since then he’s had some very low times, but excellent medical care keeps him going. Simultaneously, I went through a three-year period of unemployment and marginal employment—from which I’ve only recently emerged. As we finish out 2017, Joseph is comfortable and in good spirits and I am finally beginning to breathe easy regarding my prospects for continuing to support the family.

Going forward, I don’t expect to be reading as much as before—because I’m no longer commuting as much—but right now I can choose from a vast array of titles consumed this year to offer the following recommendations of my faves for 2017 (in no particular order). And by faves I do mean the best of the best. I encountered more than the usual number of outstanding books this year. Long-distance commuting did have an upside.

Clicking the titles below will take you to more complete write-ups on Goodreads. And, fwiw, my lists of books for previous years are here: 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011. By the way, printed copies of WATB may not be so easy to find these days (unless you contact me directly), but ebook and audio versions are still available.

Wonder, by R.J. Palacio

If you’ve seen or heard about the movie (which I also recommend), you know Wonder is the story of a 10-year-old boy who until this point in life has been sheltered from the outside world because he has facial deformities. But now his mother has decided the time has come for him to venture outside the protective bubble. The process does not go smoothly.

This story strikes close to home. Joseph has an unnamed condition that, like August’s, is probably genetic. His physical abnormalities are subtle, but in terms of function he’s profoundly disabled. It’s a matter of opinion as to which would be worse, this or August’s horrible deformity coupled with normal intelligence and ability to communicate. Either case means hitting a lottery nobody wants to win.

The author’s intent is to ask how the rest of us will treat people like August. One of the characters says, “The universe was not kind to August.” True, but we can be kind. In doing so, we may even discover a greater affection for ourselves and for one another.

When Breath Becomes Air, by Paul Kalanithi

This book is at the intersection of subjects that have been very important in my life, memoir and medicine, literature and illness, striving and accepting. It has additional gravitas in being the only, somewhat truncated literary effort of a young physician who’d thought he might do some writing in old age but altered his priorities upon the discovery that he was dying.

Seen in its own terms, his story is absorbing, poignant, tragic. I see it in terms of my own experience, as the author and I are almost mirror opposites, but it can speak to anyone, especially in terms of our efforts to maintain control over circumstances—and what to do when that control is gone.

The Pleasure of My Company, by Steve Martin

Somewhat lighter fare here! Daniel Cambridge enjoys the presence of several attractive women in his life: the wannabe shrink who comes by twice a week to evaluate his progress in overcoming neurotic habits, the pharmacist who fills his prescriptions, the neighbor who doesn’t know visiting with him is so enjoyable because he spikes her drinks with small doses of his meds, and the realtor who thinks she’s going to rent him a new apartment.

This story is laugh-out-loud funny. It’s also heartbreaking, because Daniel’s situation is so recognizably human. Ultimately, it’s mind-expanding, life-affirming, beautifully structured, and just plain good.

The Other, by David Guterson

As one grows older, and looks back at the turning points of life, it’s probably natural to wonder how differently one’s story might have unfolded with a few different decisions. Neil Countryman and John William Barry are alike in many key ways. Both love hiking in remote areas of the Pacific Northwest. Both have an intense desire to do the right thing, regardless of the cost. In a sense they could be viewed as different iterations of the same man, and Guterson’s description of their different fates could be this kind of meditation.

I’ve probably read everything by David Guterson (who’s best known for Snow Falling on Cedars). He never disappoints, but this might be his best to date.

All Our Wrong Todays, by Elan Mastai

Here’s another treatment of the theme of alternative paths. But its main thesis is that every good thing has a fatal flaw—a way in which it can become just as bad as it was good. The big question is how one claims the good while avoiding/minimizing the bad (or whether one has enough information to judge).

Aside from that philosophical speculation, the story works fine on its own terms (it’s sci-fi), and there’s wonderful dialog as well as a great many quotable epigrams. (BTW, my best books for the year are books I was lucky enough to read this year; they aren’t necessarily new. However, AOWT was published in February 2017. Take note of this author. I expect he has more great stuff on the way.)

The Dead Fathers Club, by Matt Haig

Several books crossing my path of late have been modern reinterpretations of classics. This re-imagining of Hamlet, narrated by the juvenile heir of a British pub, is my favorite of that lot. One reason for liking it is that, rather late in the story (and just in time), it departs from strict adherence to the original. When doing so makes sense, authors should treat their characters with some degree of benevolence—especially after making us care about them.

Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann

There’s worthy precedent for a large, sprawling novel set on a specific date, in the context of known historical events. I’m thinking of course of Ulysses, which is a very tough act to follow. Kudos to Joyce’s countryman Colum McCann for rising to the challenge.

He does not merely make us care about his characters. I for one realized partway through that I loved them.

The Book Thief, by Marcus Zusak

“Even Death has a heart,” we are told, and I guess we should believe it since it’s Death himself who says so. After all, he cares enough to serve as the narrator of this wonderfully devastating story about people striving against the odds to stay alive. It’s an extraordinary story, with exemplary use of language, and the audio version is just superb.

Pearl of China, by Anchee Min

Willow, the narrator of this novel, describes life in rural China beginning in the waning days of the Qing Dynasty as she grows up alongside Pearl (later to become the real-life author Pearl Buck). Arriving at adulthood with causes for sorrow, both women begin finding consolation through writing. New troubles ensue when Pearl encounters social engineers who are birthing the new communist state. They want to censor ideas not supportive of the Grand Revolution, whereas Pearl argues that readers should be free to decide for themselves what to read. In due course she is exiled and Willow endures the imprisonment and reeducation that are familiar from so many other accounts we’ve had from that country.

The conclusion is very touching, and a reminder that this has less to do with turmoil in China than with affection between two soul mates. If Willow is a fictional creation, I suppose she represents the author’s response to learning, many years after Pearl Buck’s death, who this woman was.

Oracle Bones, by Peter Hessler

This first-person depiction of China joins a long list of similar accounts I’ve read over the years. It feels like a memoir, although a unifying narrative arc is not obvious. There are narrative threads, of course: concerning not just the author but also the friends he made there. I was quite taken by his own challenges (surviving on a freelancer’s uncertain income, offering friendship across a significant cultural divide, avoiding arrest). For context he weaves in background regarding both ancient history and recent trends in Chinese society. I especially appreciated his commentary on the origins of and logic behind Chinese writing (speculative though those origins may be). Despite abrupt transitions, it all hangs together naturally, and I’m very glad to have read it.

(Incidentally, I enjoyed an email exchange with the author after my commentary appeared. He’s still immersing himself in and writing about other cultures and no doubt has more excellent books on the way, all of which I hope to read.)

Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance, by Angela Duckworth

My list would not be complete without at least one more nonfiction representative, and especially (given my fixations) a title concerning goal achievement. Grit amplifies the concept expressed most succinctly by Edison, about success being mostly perspiration as opposed to inspiration. That is, while it’s great to be talented and clever, etc., tenacity is the most important trait. From there, the author provides specific steps for applying tenacity to actual achievement and persevering through setbacks and adversity.

We all know the story of Jack, who lived in poverty with his widowed mother, foolishly traded their only cow for a handful of beans, climbed the enormous plant that sprouted overnight from those beans, and came back with a fortune (which, we are assured, was rightfully theirs to begin with).

That’s nonsense, of course. I’m not sure such tales are even being passed along to children these days, the way they were in times past. They’re based on a world view so incompatible with our own as to be embarrassing.

On the other hand, in a recent online article Richard Fernandez argues that we may be more inclined than previous generations to put our faith in something akin to magic.

“Two hundred years ago,” he says, “the average person probably understood virtually everything he encountered in daily life. Today the average person is surrounded by objects far more complex than the Apollo 11 guidance computer.” Most of us do not even begin to understand how those objects work. “Technology has allowed the burden of intelligence to be shifted away from the user to the machine. As a result people routinely use tools they barely understand, implicitly believing they will work.”

Fernandez presents this as a potentially scary turning point in the progress of civilization. He cites the most famous of Arthur C. Clarke’s Three Laws: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” And what is magic if not wish fulfillment? Our gadgets and other resources have empowered us to the extent that wanting something is now step one. Step two is having it.

So what if attainment comes via mechanisms we don’t entirely understand!

I must have been circling this idea a few months ago when I wrote a facetious user guide for a Wish Fulfilling Device. (At the time I saw that exercise as a writing sample, in case a potential employer wanted to see what I could do; my real technical writing was all proprietary.)

But this outlook has affected my thinking for a very long time. It goes back at least to the birth of my son Joseph.

When his doctor presented the first clue that something might not be right with him, I immediately thought modern medical technology surely had an answer. If we had a problem, my faith in science held that some specialist, somewhere, would know what to do. Anyone trying to say otherwise was just ignorant. That belief started my family down the path described in my memoir, What About the Boy?

The ultimate thrust of the Fernandez article is socio-political. He’s writing about people who suppose our advanced society liberates them from causality, i.e., enables them to avoid the consequences of having done “stupid” things. There’s no need to narrow his focus in that way. As far as I know, the challenge confronting my family was not the result of stupid choices. Causality? A neurologist told me Joseph’s affliction, whatever it was, “just happened.” More than three decades later I still haven’t heard a better explanation.

So I wasn’t trying to dodge responsibility. But I did assume the black box of modern capability could spit out the desired remedy.

When it didn’t, I looked at other black boxes. Without going into details, I became the poster child for the errors in judgment that Fernandez ascribes to those trusting in the new magic.

On the other hand, perhaps my fixation was due less to living in our modern technological society than to stubborn refusal to accept a bad outcome for my boy. I would have grabbed any straws in sight.

As I’ve noted previously, Joseph’s developmental problems have now been joined by the complications of metastatic melanoma. Black box or not, medical technology has done wonders in preserving the quality of his life since that diagnosis. I have the greatest respect for his doctor and all the other good medical people who’ve kept him going this long.

That said, he still has cancer. Also, it is now showing up on one of his adrenal glands. The adrenals sit on top of the kidneys. In this illustration, the tumor is represented by the gray blob at the top. In reality, the tumor is bleeding. The kidney, of course, is the reddish bean shape.

Looks like we could still do with some magic beans.

I always read a lot, but consumed at least twice as many books as usual in 2016. That’s because I spent the year commuting a significant distance every day, and needed to occupy my thoughts with something worthwhile. Audiobooks came to my attention a couple years ago, when Kevin Arthur Harper narrated the audio version of What About the Boy?. If you haven’t heard that, please excuse this rare but shameless plug. (Incidentally, the distributor of the printed version went out of business in 2016, effectively taking the title out of print. Consequently, non-audio options are limited to downloading it to your Kindle or Nook, buying it second-hand, or contacting me for an autographed/inscribed copy.)

Every year about this time I share a few titles that have particularly impressed me, with links back to more complete write-ups on Goodreads. Doing so is my answer to the well-known lists of new titles that everyone is supposed to be reading. Since there were more to choose from this time, these are the best of the best. Perhaps one of the following would be a fit for somebody on your holiday gift list. (Oh, and did I mention autographed copies of WATB?)

Audio

Cutting for Stone, by Abraham Verghese, narrated by Sunil Malhotra
I was unable to make much headway in the printed version of this book when I tried some years ago. There was nothing wrong with anything I saw, but somehow the feeling I picked up from the text was one of joylessness. The audio version, with its extraordinarily good voice actor, changed that, and brought this wonderful story to life. To say Cutting for Stone is a story about practicing medicine in Africa does not begin to suggest its drama and philosophical insight, or the depth of every single character—or to convey any sense of the connection a reader can feel with them as, time and time again they find their world isn’t as “intact” as they’d supposed, that despite their planning and expectations, events are going to take an altogether different path. That has certainly been my own experience of life, which is one reason this story appealed to me so strongly (once the audio version made it more accessible).

Cross Roads, by William Paul Young, narrated by Roger Mueller
Here’s an audiobook with narration that’s just about perfect. The narrator doesn’t overdo the accents (British, Native American, Black). He doesn’t call attention to himself at all. But he has a rare ability to add life and dimension to the story, and especially to deliver emotion like the best of actors, and consequently I enjoyed it much more than would have been possible in print format. The first part of the story closely resembles my memory of Young’s earlier book, The Shack. Some of the early dialog feels tedious—didactic if not preachy. But then the plot becomes more interesting. As the frustrated father of a disabled son, I especially liked Tony’s opportunity to experience the perceptions of a boy with Down Syndrome. I loved everything that followed. I sensed the concept was challenging for the author to sustain, but he introduced enough changes and wrinkles to keep me guessing.

The Testament of Mary, by Colm Toibin, narrated by Meryl Streep
This is a startling, disturbing story. At first I felt vaguely repelled by it, because the aged Mary portrayed here is a reclusive husk of a woman, someone who has endured horrors and learned to distrust the people around her, and has long since abandoned any illusions about the goodness or importance of life. She’s nothing like the serene, trusting mother of Jesus we’ve been given in Scripture and doctrine. But I see no necessity for this story to be about Mary, and that’s the main attraction it has for me. It’s a story about how to interpret the anguish we experience in life. I’ve experienced my share. And I continue to do so. I think faith is supposed to empower one to accept that our suffering is part of God’s greater purpose, and to believe that everything will be made perfect in the end. Having mentioned Job in the second blog post linked to above, I should here acknowledge God’s response to Job’s challenges: Clueless mortals were not around when God set up this universe and therefore have no basis for passing judgment. All we can do is trust. I daresay most believers find this very difficult at times. For the Mary in this story, it’s impossible.

Child 44, by Tom Rob Smith, narrated by Dennis Boutsikaris
I admired this, the first of a trilogy of novels about Soviet agent Leo Demidov, so much that I made a point of finding and reading the sequels in quick succession. On almost every level, this is a fantastic piece of literature. It easily ranks alongside 1984. The structure, the pacing, the characterization, the depicted thought processes of Leo and Raisa—all of this feels like the stuff of a true classic. Twice, turns in the plot took me completely by surprise. Further, it’s the kind of story that desperately needs to be told. At times, this author is a little careless with his grammar. I’m puzzled as to how mistakes like his can occur within a work that otherwise demonstrates such prowess in story-telling. Normally, the editor in me would object more strenuously, but for this book I’m only mentioning it.

Abundance: A Novel of Marie Antoinette, by Sena Jeter Naslund, narrated by Susanna Burney
This captivating historical novel begins with the young Marie Antoinette journeying from Austria to become the bride of the French Dauphin. The good-hearted young lady clearly perceives a world completely incompatible with the future that we know awaits her. And until much too late, she’s unable to grasp the notion that the good days she’s always known could actually end. (Their end is the inevitable product of the times, but it’s probably safe to say that end was hastened, and made much less pleasant, by the actions of her husband’s grandfather, Louis XV.) When she does perceive the direction life is taking, her response—in this rendering at least, and quite possibly in fact—is simply noble. Marie Antoinette has been vilified down through the years, but the character presented here is not a bad person.

Print

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
Prior to starting this, I had misgivings about a novel consisting solely of letters and telegrams among various people, and I also worried that having two authors would be a drawback to the quality (it usually is). Oh, and the title seemed too cute. All those doubts were quickly laid to rest. This is a delightful story, and it gets better as it goes along. The missives make me nostalgic for the days when people actually wrote letters, on paper. I always appreciated the occasional letter that included wit and thoughtfulness, and in this story the gems are more than occasional. The anecdote about Oscar Wilde that occurs near the end is just delightful. And the ending itself is truly lovely. That’s the best word for it.

The Heart Does Not Grow Back, by Fred Venturini
I picked up this novel because the premise sounded original. A couple chapters in, I felt thrilled with it, because the depictions of youthful relationships (on the playground and then among teenagers) are so deliciously rendered. Then the subject matter becomes less pleasant as the story veers off on an unexpected tack. Dale, the main character, suffers major injuries—but it turns out he has an unexplained ability to heal quickly, regenerating not only skin and tissue but even lost body parts. When he becomes aware of this special ability, he wants to use it, by becoming a living donor of kidneys, corneas, etc. But does he subject himself to all those difficult surgeries because he’s just a very good person? Because he feels an obligation of some sort? Not necessarily. I thought his wholesale organ donations resembled the impulse some people have to adopt stray dogs and cats, or to try and rescue down-and-out people–the idea being to lift them out of dire circumstances and show them how much better life can be. There is kindness in such an act, of course. But there’s also a balance between personal sacrifice and display of power, a balance that can tip unexpectedly after the process has begun.

Time and Again, by Jack Finney
Simon Morley, a bored graphic artist wasting time in an advertising agency, is plucked from that life to participate in a hush-hush project that involves sending agents into the past. He transitions to the New York City of 1882, with the personal agenda of observing and perhaps learning about a mysterious event that has long puzzled his girlfriend’s family. He ends up making repeated trips back, each time endeavoring not to interfere with events and thereby inadvertently alter the course of history. However, it proves impossible to remain strictly an observer; he does interact with the people there, to a far greater extent than ever envisioned. Then it turns out his government handlers back in the Twentieth Century actually want him to get involved, in hopes of engineering a better modern-day world situation. (I’m attracted to treatments of this idea, having a number of intractable problems of my own at present.)

The Confidence Game: Why We Fall for It … Every Time, by Maria Konnikova
Our civilization has to operate on a general assumption that interactions are supposed to be win-win, not predatory. Nevertheless, con artists are a reality. The Confidence Game describes the phenomenon in a way that is both enlightening (from a psychological standpoint) and empowering. Maria Konnikova tells instructive stories of how con artists wrecked the lives of people who ought to have been smart enough to know better. Maybe intellectually they did know better, but “our emotional reactions are often our first. They are made naturally and instinctively, before we perform any sort of evidence-based evaluation.” There are examples aplenty in my own experience, especially in regard to having a child with mysterious developmental problems, and turning to alternative providers when regular doctors did not help him. Unethical caregivers are not the focus of my book, but a few appear in its pages. And the template they use for reeling in fresh suckers became even clearer as I subsequently blogged about having a disabled adult son. Armed by that experience, I may have been a little quicker to spot scams aimed at new authors who seek public awareness of their books. The author explains that our vulnerability to being conned derives from a trait conducive to personal fulfilment and social cohesion. We should continue to expect our transactions to be mutually beneficial. But we also desperately need self-awareness so our intense desire for a certain outcome does not overwhelm common sense.

Last year this blog hosted some poetry authored by Tianze, an autistic teenager living in Scotland. I’ve never met him or his parents F2F, but for over ten years have corresponded with his mother Nina. I believe her to be a sweet, caring soul.

Their family is going through some bad times right now.

Developmental disabilities affect kids in various ways. As Tianze has grown older, he has at times been unable to control his emotions and has been destructive.

I guess nobody has an explanation.

But I know it’s not unreasonable to look for explanations.

I subscribe to a daily email list where parents of disabled kids share what they are learning. (In fact, I’ve been getting that kind of info for as long as I’ve had email, going back to the mid-90s.) Before there was email, I got information via other channels, and my memoir shows that answers can indeed sometimes be found.

Currently, a lot of people in those emails happen to be discussing how to deal with symptoms like Tianze’s. It is understood that the cause exists on a cellular/biochemical level. And there’s general agreement that finding the right treatment for any given kid involves trial and error—ranging from diet supplementation (e.g., “people have a higher demand for folate from ages 12 to 20”) all the way up to prescription meds. Whatever the magic combination may be, some people do discover it, and post reports such as, “he’s gone from a holy terror to the sweetest, most consistent boy imaginable.”

I would like to suggest that incarcerating a disabled kid, against his will and his family’s will, is likely to do more harm than good. It strikes me as an ignorant response, even in the context of the ignorance we all share.

Now, I understand the motive of wanting to protect someone from himself, or maybe temporarily offering someone a change of scenery. But for five months Tianze has been kept in a medical facility far from his home. Originally, the stay was only for “assessment.” Somehow, it appears to have become indefinite.

He doesn’t want to be there.

His parents don’t want him there.

Nina recently started an online petition: Bring my autistic son, Tianze, back home to Scotland. I hope you will sign it.

Because what she has written below gives a pretty clear idea of how this hospital stay is working out.

I mention above the role trial and error plays in finding answers. That means if an intervention is clearly not working, there’s no justification for persisting in it.

My son like a lion locked in the cage outbursts suddenly: “It is too long in this ward”

I’m again heartbroken visit today.

When I met Tianze, I saw his hair is too long nearly cover his eyes again. I knew I had lots of chase in last time regarding haircut issue, finally the hospital done it. But now it is too long again. We brought lots of Tianze’s favourite toys to him, especially his black toy dog. He holds it and kisses the dog and feel happy about all the toys we brought to him. I knew he had bad week because of missing home, I checked his arms which are full of bite marks. But before hospital, there are no bite marks on his arms. He can be agitated at home, but he is still a happy boy at home.

When our visiting time carried on about 5-7 minutes, Tianze started outburst suddenly, He looked like a lion locked in a cage and suddenly screamed: “It is too long here in this ward.” Then Tianze just started to bite his arm. He pulled the curtain down. He was pulled away by staff back to his ward immediately. We just had this 5-10 minutes visiting time.

I’m heart broke now. . .
Tianze—My poor boy . . .
Mum knows you need home,
You need Mum’s love,
You need Dad’s love. . .
I need my child back home ASAP.
My son suffering, We are suffering. . .

Tianze—My dear son,
Mum knows you have your rights to go to parks,
like all other children
Mum knows
You have your rights to back home,
Like all other children.
You should have your freedom,
You shouldn’t be locked here such long time,
Drugs can’t solve everything,
You need Mum’s love. . .
You are Mum’s baby forever.

Tianze—My dear Son,
You had relatively calm time in hospital,
You waked up every early morning to
just count how many days left in hospital. . .
You sing back home song daily to mum. . .
But now you may lose hope,
you can’t wait,
What you can do now is just
hurt yourself and hurt yourself. . .

Tianze—My dear son,
Mum is helping you out of hospital now,
please stay calm and calm
Please wait Mum and wait Mum. . .
My son, Mum will let you back home,
That is your home,
that is our happy home. . .
Nobody should deprive it. . .
We live in modern society. . .
We live in a civilized country. . .

Tianze—My dear son,
Mum knew you are autism,
you can’t understand lots. . .
You can’t wait any more
even a normal child will be frustrated if locked in without family love. . .
But please can you wait mum,
Mum will save you from this prison. . .
Mum will try best to save you

Several years ago, a Vietnamese acquaintance invited Song Yi and me (and Joseph) to her apartment. I don’t recall what we’d been given to expect, but we were a little surprised to find her living room filled with a dozen or more people sitting cross-legged on the floor and repeatedly chanting an incantation that sounded something like this.

We stayed (the alternative would have been more than rude), and as I spent the next half-hour or more awash in incomprehensible sounds I thought about the intentions of the lady who’d invited us. She’d wanted only to offer what she viewed as a blessing that might change our lives.

Later, a friend explained that this kind of chanting is intended to keep the demons at bay and to bring about happiness. He knew people who had chanted and then experienced good luck and who concluded that there must have been a connection between the two. Maybe more chanting would bring more good luck. Conversely, giving up on the chanting would put everything at risk.

I have no trouble seeing potential for a therapeutic benefit in sounds like this, particularly in terms of reducing agitation and internal chatter. On the other hand, that effect might be achieved simply via music. I don’t mean to tread on anyone’s beliefs, but expecting more than that amounts to what is called magical thinking. Seems to me.

Magical thinking is what leads us to do something that’s imbued with significance in our own mind, and hoping that that improves the odds for something else to come to pass, when there’s no objective reason to draw a connection between the two.

If you think chanting is pretty far out, another scenario might be easier to recognize. How about making an extraordinary sacrifice—spending a lot of money or traveling a great distance or enduring hardship—in the pursuit of some cherished goal? If, for example, the goal is finding help for a child who has major problems, sacrifices like that might be part of what is required. However, the sacrifices themselves aren’t the thing that addresses the problem. Putting the child in front of the right specialist can help (assuming there is a specialist). The other stuff is incidental. Making extreme sacrifices in order to do the wrong thing may impart a feeling that you have accomplished something, when really you have only hurt yourself.

This kind of thinking is attractive when we feel that we have no control over events. It’s natural to want to be in control. But what is the correct response when we aren’t?

This is pretty basic stuff, because all of us know what it’s like when things don’t go the way we want.

I began mulling over this last week, after reading an article (about the Middle East) in which the writer suggested that “there are problems for which solutions might not exist.”

Whether solutions exist or not, it’s absolutely true that there will always be problems for which we have no obvious answers.

So trouble is inevitable. However—and here I should give credit to a wise man named Bob Botsford—misery is optional. What, after all, is the point of being miserable? What is accomplished by it? Yeah, we’ve got issues. We all do. And if we put one behind us, another one will rise up to take its place.

I found that to be the case during our family’s campaign to help our son Joseph. We waged a long, drawn-out battle so he could crawl on his hands and knees, and when that was a done deal we had another battle to get him to where he could walk. And when he took those first steps, we’d barely gotten started.

I began to preceive that some of the remaining challenges at that point did not seem to have solutions.

So, what do you do in that situation? Quit?

Bob has a lot to say on the subject, but I’m going to take some liberties and distill it down to two points:

• It’s always too soon to quit.
• There’s no justification for beating yourself up about not having gotten there yet.

My family’s story with Joseph has been doing whatever we could that made sense, and to stop doing things that no longer made sense—while endeavoring not to lose heart. I don’t know how it’s all going to shake out, but what other option is there? Is the following true, or not?

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

Psalm 30:5

Tracey Alley, an Australian blogger, very kindly offered to make What About the Boy? her book of the week. I contributed a unique post to go with the basic information, and hope you will check it out here.

Another guest post went live today on a blog called TheAdventurousBitch. It includes a photo from when Joseph was a little guy just starting to walk. Please check the right-hand column from time to time, as I hope to be able to continue adding additional links like these.