Punctuated Post: Anita Shreve's The Weight of Water

Read Anita Shreve they said. You'll like her, they said.

The Weight of Water takes place off the coast of Maine. So, when I traveled to Maine to a dear friend's graduation, I thought this book was a fitting pick! I love to read a book while being in the book's setting.

In a way, this was the perfect type of book to read during the hustle and bustle of travel: light and easy to dip in and out of while boarding flights and such. It has two narrative threads, one contemporary and one pertaining to a mystery from 1853. In the contemporary thread, a woman who is a photographer on a job at the island learns of gruesome murder. We also learn about the circumstances of another women, an immigrant to the area in the 1850s. An undercurrent of both narrative threads is the whodunit of the nineteenth century murder, partially as the contemporary woman finds archived letters written by the immigrant. I think the book could have been more enticing if the murderer didn't seem so obvious early in the book. While I am glad I gave an Anita Shreve book a chance, I am not sure that another is in my future soon.

Shreve, Anita. The Weight of Water. Back Bay Books, 1997.

The Crisis in the Dominican Republic: A Reading List

There is a humanitarian crisis that has been evolving in the Dominican Republic, and it is perplexing why more people aren't talking about it because of its significance regarding law, race, and basic human rights. For decades, Haitians have moved to the Dominican Republic, oftentimes to escape poverty in Haiti. Discrimination against people of Haitian descent is intense in the Dominican Republic (there was a lynching earlier this year), and in 2013 the Dominican Republic courts denied citizenship to all descendants of Haitian-born parents, impacting tens of thousands of people, some of whom have spent their entire lives in the Dominican Republic. Recently, there was news media coverage of authors Junot Diaz and Edwidge Danticat speaking out about the situation. There is a link to that article below, along with other articles assembled along a timeline that provide a sense of the situation, especially over the past several months as thousands of people face statelessness.

October 15, 2012 article about 1937 event: Parsley Massacre: The Genocide that Still Haunts Haiti-Dominican Relations, International Business Times, by Palash Ghosh

October 7, 2013: The Dominican Republican and Haiti: One Island Riven by An Unresolved Past, The Guardian, by Carrie Gibson

October 24, 2013: Dominicans of Haitian Descent Cast into Legal Limbo by Court, The New York Times, by Randal C. Archibold

May 22, 2014: Dominican Republic Lawmakers Pass Citizenship Bill, BBC News

February 3, 2015: Thousands of Dominicans Woke Up This Week without Citizenship in Any Country, The Huffington Post Latino Voices, Roque Planas

February 11, 2015: Haitian Man Lynched amid Dominican Republic Immigration Controversy, The Huffington Post Latino Voices, Roque Planas

June 16, 2015: Dominicans of Haitian Descent Fear Mass Deportation as Headline Looms, The Guardian, by Sibylla Brodzinsky

June 16, 2015: Dominican Republic Threatens to Deport Haitian Families, The Root, by Nsenga K. Burton

June 25, 2015: Junot Diaz and Edwidge Danticat Jointly Speak Out Against Dominican Republic Refugee Crisis, Fusion, by Daniel Rivero

June 26, 2015: Haiti PM Warns of "Humanitarian Crisis" Caused by Dominican Deportation Policy, The Guardian, Associated Press

July 2, 2015: The Dominican Time Bomb, The New York Times Magazine, by Jonathan M. Katz

July 5, 2015: Deportations of Noncitizens in Dominican Republic Protested by Activists in Boston, The Boston Globe, by Laura Crimaldi

I have found myself turning the most to the coverage in The Guardian. (Search "Dominican Republic" on The Guardian's homepage for articles on the issue that go back several years.) How will you stay on top of news on this issue?

Mario Lopez: A Classic Writer of Our Time

I know that it was simply misshelved, but seeing Mario Lopez' Entre Nosotros mistakenly next to the classics/poetry sign amused me. Maybe it is a great literary work, but Mario Lopez will always be A.C. Slater to me.

I spotted this in a Salt Lake City airport bookstore before I boarded my plane. In looking more closely at this picture, I'm not quite sure I'd classify any of these books as classics, and I don't see any poetry.

Reading in the Wild: Provo, Utah, and Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones

Work travel recently took me to Provo, Utah, in the gorgeous Utah Valley. As a Phoenix native, I feel most at home when I'm near mountains, and the snow-covered peaks of the Utah Valley mountains made quite the impression on me. Though it was my first time visiting Utah, I felt right at home.

Book Counter, Pioneer Book, Provo, UT

When I'm traveling for work, it might go without saying that I don't have much in the way of free time, but I got to sneak in a couple of quick treats during my time in Provo. My first night in town, an open schedule coupled with a late 9 pm sunset gave me the opportunity to explore the small, adorable downtown area. Filled with small restaurants and shops, I came across Pioneer Book, and never able to resist a bookstore (and a used one at that!), I went in to explore. I came to find that it was a newer establish, but I am not exaggerating when I say it was one of the most organized bookstores I've seen. I lost track of time browsing the fiction shelves, and before I knew it, the music volume turned up as a gentle reminder that the store was closing. I checked out with the exceptionally kind staff member who agreed to pay my loyalty card forward to the next local shopper,  and I left quite happy with my decision to get Elie Wiesel's Dawn (it is my name after all!) and Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones. 

When I settled in for the night in my spacious yet noisy Marriott Hotel room, unmotivated to continue with my current read, Continental Divide by Russell Banks, which I've been forcing myself to read because I'm not a quitter, I picked up The Lovely Bones. I picked it up and carried it right up a mountain with me.

Y Mountain is one peak in the Wasatch Mountain Range. Because of it's proximity to the Brigham Young University campus, the mountain became involved in some junior versus senior class prank over a hundred years ago. In the years since, it became tradition to maintain a Y on the mountain. This must have been no easy feat. Now at least there is a trail, but one that consists of 11 painful switchbacks, not to mention the elevation change. I felt like a champion when I reached the top of the Y, only to discover a trail that goes further, but after I realized that proper hiking boots rather than sneakers might fit the bill better, I turned around, followed the trail to the bottom of the Y, and parked myself there reading until the sun rose over the mountain.

Over the next few days, I read the book in every spare moment, and due to several hours of frustrating travel delays out of Salt Lake City, I finished The Lovely Bones before the plane even left the runway. The book is moving and suspenseful. About the tragic murder of a young girl in a small community, the book details the struggle of the victim looking down from heaven as her family mourns and wonders if her murderer will ever be discovered. I was left with the thought that we would all hope to be fortunate to have a family that passionately remembers and seeks justice for their lost loved one, but simultaneously melancholy at the family's reality that the death grew into an obsessive life of its own.

Sebold, Alice. The Lovely Bones. New York: Little, Brown, and Company, 2007.

Cathy Marie Buchanan’s The Day the Falls Stood Still

I’m always cautious of historical novels that have any form of the word “romance” anywhere in their descriptions, because things can turn real slutty real fast. I picked it up this summer because, like I mentioned about John Banville’s The Sea, I’m in what seems like a never-ending quest to read the books that are sitting unread on my bookshelf. Who could resist a World War I era story set at Niagara Falls? If nothing else, the book seemed like it would be a light, summer read.

Instead of a light summer read, though, I found a story with an overwhelming theme of loss. Our heroine, Bess, is seventeen when her father loses his well-paying job at a power company that generates power from the flow of the river racing over the falls. This sets in motion a series of unfortunate events and, as such, Bess needs to makes the standard choices regarding love and independence and deals with—you guessed it—loss. I’ve already covered the loss of employment and the loss of money, but there is loss of family members and dealing with death, loss of innocence as a generation of young men goes off to war, loss of friendship, loss of faith, and, the most unique element of the story, loss of the natural river flow as industrial companies siphon off water for their operations. This is where the romance comes in: as it happens, Bess marries the strong, hunky Riverman, who is the stuff of legends and whose grandfather was the original stuff of legends, because of their ability to read the river, sense shifts in the wind that causes ice bridges to melt, and knows just how to fish the dead bodies (loss again!) drowned in the falls and swirling around the whirlpools and eddies. See what I mean about being a little heavy for a summer read? In any case, Bess had just enough moxy to keep me picking up the book, and the story certainly got me thinking of my own family visits to Niagara Falls, and I can certainly say I’m glad the Falls still inspire a sense of wonder in us.

Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Day the Falls Stood Still. New York: Voice / Hyperion, 2009.

Damon Galgut’s In a Strange Room

I’m always on the quest to read more international literature, and as such, I rely a great deal on Europa Editions, who specialize in publishing and translating literary bestsellers from around the world. I especially gained a significant amount of respect for them when I heard Muriel Barbery, the author of The Elegance of the Hedgehog (and one of my favorite books), speak at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books about what a collaborative translation process went through with Europa Editions. Even though In a Strange Room is not a translation, I still consider the Europa Editions insignia as a stamp of literary approval, and Damon Galgut’s book was no exception—especially as a finalist for the Man Booker Prize.

What I liked most about this book was the way it captured the tension—that comes with traveling—between experience and the feeling of being removed from that experience. In my humble opinion, true traveling is not only a journey between one geographic point and another, it is also a personal journey dependent on deep internal reflection on one's self and one's culture. Often, there is little distance between having the experience and reflecting on the experience. Galgut captures this two-state experience with shifts between the first and third pronouns as he refers to himself. Switches between “I” and “he” parallel the experience of traveling and knowing you are having experiences, but also feeling as if you are looking at yourself as part of a story or narrative. His shifts also serve to echo his transitions between feelings of connectedness and feelings of isolation and loneliness. It was easy to identify with his moments of deep connection with strangers he met as he lets change and companionship dictate his travels, which quickly changed to moments of isolation and loneliness upon the consideration of the unarticulated relationships with his companions. 

Galgut, Damon. In a Strange Room: Three Journeys. New York: Europa Editions, 2010.

Alphabet Soup: PD at TOC, AAUP, and SSP

The students of University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign have returned, and that can only mean one thing: summer has come to an end. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing if you look forward to winter (which I don’t) or if you had a bad summer (which I didn’t). I got to go home this summer to visit friends and family, got to go on a few trips, and got an iPhone, which may as well be surgically attached to my hand. In the midst of all that fun, I also had some great experiences that helped me to sink my teeth a little deeper into the world of scholarly publishing. When you move halfway across the country for a job and then that job provides you with wonderful professional development (PD) opportunities, that is a very good thing. In addition to the University of Illinois Press sending a number of people from our marketing and acquisitions department to Mini O’Reilly Tools of Change Chicago (TOC), many of us were also given the opportunity to attend the Association of American University Presses (AAUP), which, in case you don’t know, is like Mecca for university press folks.

As if those opportunities weren’t enough, I was also a recipient of an early-career professional travel grant from the Society of Scholarly Publishing (SSP). To understand the level of excitement that came with the news that I received the grant, you will also need to know that I had applied for an SSP annual meeting travel grant multiple times as a student. Finally, this summer, victory was mine! Attending the conference was a valuable experience: I was able to immerse myself in scholarly publishing dialogues that extended beyond university presses, I was a part of an incredible cohort of fellow grant recipients, and I was paired with a generous and kind mentor. The only thing we were asked for in return? We were asked to write a letter after the conference to discuss our experience and provide overall feedback. If you are curious to hear my expanded thoughts on the meeting, they are here for your reading pleasure.

I would like to start off by saying thank you to the Society for Scholarly Publishing for incorporating student and early career professional development grants into their yearly practice. The early career grant afforded me the opportunity to attend the conference, which I would have been unable to do otherwise, and I had a valuable, educational, and professionally fulfilling experience. I think the greatest benefit of the grant include the pairing with a mentor—my mentor, Alice Meadows, was very generous with her time and left such a positive impression that I would never hesitate to contact her in the future for mentoring and advice. The other great benefit of the grant is that the grant recipients functioned as a cohort throughout the meeting—this is an incredible bonus when you are attending a conference for the first time and you do not know anyone else. Dinner the first evening as a group was instrumental in forming ties, and it was wonderful to see familiar faces in the crowd as we attended meetings and events throughout the remainder of the meeting and discuss our thoughts and impressions of the sessions and our roles in publishing. I was even able to connect with one grant recipient and with the SSP President at AAUP in Chicago.

There were many ways in which my expectations of what I would learn at the SSP Annual Meeting differed from what I actually learned. In selecting the sessions to attend, it was obvious that the meeting was geared not only toward journals, but toward the sciences. I went into the meeting expecting to learn a great deal about journals; however, I was often surprised about how many of the topics discussed in relation to journals can be applied more broadly to scholarly publications overall—indeed, books can learn from the trials of journals in regard to open access, peer review, and using metrics. That being said, as a person who works in books in the humanities, I would have liked to see more panels on topics more related to my professional field. I was shocked to hear a gentleman in an elevator with an SSP name badge explain to a hotel guest that the meeting was about science journals—scholarly publishing is much broader than that! 

For me, a devoted reader of the Scholarly Kitchen blog, the absolute pinnacle of the meeting was meeting Kent Anderson. I got to shake the hand of the editor-in-chief of one of the best sources for scholarly news and discussion! Other highlights included the panels themselves. The session on libraries as publishers was interesting and made me think about how the University of Illinois Press can form a stronger relationship with the University of Illinois Library and perhaps utilize the strengths of the library in our projects, especially where ancillary content is involved. Perhaps the most exciting session was Publishers! What Are They Good For? This session made clear the conflict between the traditional ways of publishing and new theories and practices about activities like peer review. David Crotty of OUP and Jason Priem engaged in a lively debate about the interpretation and use of metrics in peer review. From this panel, I took away a sense that the future of publishing would never be traditional practices traded in for new technologies, but instead the future of publishing and peer review will pick methods that can enhance our foundational procedures and move them forward to be more efficient and useful to bettering scholarship. Another highlight was Making eBooks Easier. As a reader of electronic books, and as a person at a press who is moving into the ebook world, I thought this panel was fascinating, especially in how it drew attention to the benefits of having a universal but modular platform that would set standards and provide consistency for ebooks. 

As I returned to work after the meeting, I realized I was energized and full of ideas that I had been exposed to at the meeting. I was able to report to my department about the things I had learned, and although it has not led to the implementation of big ideas or changes (yet), I was able to take away from the meeting a more well-rounded view of how my sector within scholarly publishing can be more innovative, more adaptable, and to steal from the conference theme, be more social, mobile, agile, and global in how we approach some projects. In terms of professional development, I think one of the most important things I gained from the conference was the confidence to approach and engage in conversation with people in the publishing industry. As someone relatively new to the industry, this conference provided an ideal opportunity to mingle, network, connect, and trade stories about how other people do their jobs. 

So, what am I going to do next? I'm going to get back to reading some books!

Further and Further East: Easter

Poland is one of the most predominantly Catholic countries in Europe, if not in the world. Because of this, the country is known for its Easter celebrations. One of the cities best known for such celebrations is Krakow. The week leading up to Easter is filled with events and traditions, including Easter markets, similar to the Easter and Christmas markets found in most European countries. One of the most charming traditions occurs on Easter Saturday. In the US, we associate Easter baskets with the Easter bunny, Cadbury eggs, and jelly beans. As we walked the streets of Krakow, we saw a very different type of Easter basket: children and adults alike carried simple baskets with the food that would be eaten at Easter Sunday's meal. The baskets included small portions that were taken to be blessed, and churches were filled throughout the day as people got their baskets blessed and attended mass.

We arrived in Krakow around 7 am after taking a night train from Prague. The train ride itself was amazing, and we woke up to a gentle knock by the train steward who told us our stop was coming up and he had coffee and croissants for us. After exiting the train station, we were greeted by a large plaza with historic buildings on one edge, and a giant, modern mall on another edge, which gave an apt first impression of a city that embraces its past while moving forward. When we arrived at our hostel, we were beyond impressed by its cleanliness, chicness, and friendliness. It was not long before Mike also made it to the hostel, and we ditched our bags and set out to explore the city. We began in the Jewish quarter. We walked by synagogues, over a bridge, and through the streets where Schindler's List was filmed. In Hero's Square, there are empty chairs lined up in perfect rows, which provides a haunting effect in a place where Jews were once forced to run in circles until the Nazis decided which people to kill. We also went to Schindler's factory, which is now encased in glass and has been made part of a museum. The day became less somber as we sat down to our first, but not last, meal of pierogies. We then visited Wallel Hill where we perused the castle, 14th century cathedral, and breathtaking views of the city and river. Afterwards, we wound our way through the park which extends down the middle of the city. We then happened upon Krakow's Easter market in what we soon realized was the major square of the town. We ate spinach, Russian style, and cabbage pierogies from the market that day and the next. We also ate delicious fried cheese made in the high mountains outside the city, drank beer that they put a strange but glorious syrup into, and shopped around the market that had Polish arts and crafts. On Easter Sunday, we returned to the market in the pouring rain to enjoy the same tasty treats. We also saw packed churches everywhere we went, and though the masses were said in Polish, it was easy to understand the intense smell of incense and the joy in the voices of singing churchgoers. Though many restaurants, shops, and museums were closed because of the Easter holiday, having the streets of Krakow almost to ourselves, coupled with the special Easter celebrations, created a unique and unforgettable experience.

On Easter night, we took a night train to Lviv, Ukraine. Instead of waking to a kind steward, we awoke to a harsh knock an hour earlier than we had anticipated because of the time difference between Poland and Ukraine. We looked out the train window to see our stop, but because we do not know Cyrillic, we had to trust that the steward was kicking us off the train at the right stop. As we exited the train station, we were met with more Cyrillic, and the challenge of navigating the public transportation system. The cost of a ticket for the tram is 1 Ukrainian Hryvnia, which converts to about 15 cents. We set out to find our hotel with directions that were in English, only to find that most of the street signs were in Cyrillic; however, once we figured out where we were, the city became very easy to navigate. We were greeted at our hotel by the sight of dozens of empty beer bottles all over the patio and the receptionist sleeping on the couch in the reception area. Although unconventional, we quickly learned that Monday is also part of the Easter holiday, and given the Ukrainian, Polish, and Russian propensity to drink, the hotel patrons and staff had taken complete advantage of the holiday. So, once again, we found ourselves in a city where many shops and restaurants were closed for the holiday, but this time around, we spent a great deal of time attempting to acquire train tickets to our next destination, Debrecen, Hungary. As if a language barrier is not difficult enough, the alphabet barrier proved highly frustrating. We did not actually get the whole situation sorted out until the next day, when we finally got tickets for a train that night. As for the rest of our time in Lviv, we hung out with a friendly American Peace Corps volunteer who had a friend visiting from Virginia and we toured the streets. Lviv is also very Catholic and has many beautiful churches and cathedrals. The town is beautiful, and has a breathtaking park. I feel so lucky to have gotten to see it in the prime of spring, with flowering trees and warm sunshine. Kids were playing on playgrounds, people were playing with dogs, and everyone was doing some people watching. We sat at sidewalk cafes and had some Ukrainian food and beer. I had some delicious borscht (beet soup) and more pierogies, though in Urkaine they are called varenyky. We visited the town square, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and we also took a hike up to Lviv's High Castle. To get there, we walked up a steep hill, then about 250 stairs, and then climbed more stairs and ramps around a citadel-type structure with a flag on the top. Though I dispute the application of the term castle, it did lead us to amazing views, and made us realize we had only encountered a small, touristy fraction of Lviv and Ukraine. Overall, the initial obstacles and frustrations we had met with in the city were overshadowed by the city's beauty and simplicity, plus I am pretty excited about the Ukrainian stamp in my passport.

Up until Lviv, our travels had taken us further and further east. With Easter over, we headed south to Satu Mare, Romania, where we stayed with a friend I met on my first trip to Romania. Tomorrow we are going to see Romania's largest waterfall and a cemetery famed for being the only merry cemetery. I am intrigued to discover what makes the cemetery so merry!

Prague Spring

As we wandered the winding streets of Prague, it was impossible to avoid the sense of history, the majesty of the buildings, and the allure of spires sprinkled across the skyline. Prague tries to embrace and capitalize on all of these aspects: the Bohemian origins, twice the capital of the Holy Roman Empire, the story of not one but two defenestrations by the Hussites, the reign of the infamous Hapsburgs, and the Communist takeover and subsequent effects and revolutions. In 1968, under the Czech leader Alexander Dubcek, many of the facets of Communism were removed despite the negative and threatening reaction of Moscow. This political move ushered in decades of usually peacefully resolutions and movement away from Communism. It also helped to create the political temperment that has helped Prague establish itself as one of the wealthiest cities in Eastern Europe and as a tourist destination. The precipitating event to all this came to be known as the Prague Spring.

Now, I have found myself in Prague during spring, and it is gorgeous. The weather, which we anticipated to be cold and rainy, has been warm and sunny. The gardens on the hill around Prague castle were in full bloom, and every flowering tree and plant was breathtaking, especially with the castles and Prague skyline as the backdrop. Upon our arrival, reception made some recommendations for authentic Czech food and gave us some very useful advice: "Here, beer is cheaper than water, and so I recommend you just drink beer." She was not joking: she was seriously telling us to drink beer over water, and beer was seriously cheaper than water. Obviously, we went with her advice, and most of our outings and sightseeing involved regular beer breaks, which we regarded as cultural immersion time.

Though Prague is large, we walked almost everywhere, because all of the historical and notable places are within close range of one another. We stayed next to the Charles Bridge, which gave us conventient access to both the castle and old town areas. We went on a free tour of the city (though the guide frequently reminded us that tips were accepted). The tour covered the old town buildings, the Jewish section of the city, St. Wenceslas Square, some historic musical and theater buidings, and some churches and statues. One of the most remarkable statues was the Franz Kafka statue. There is also museum devoted to Kafka's life and work that we went to on our last day in the city. Seeing what an influence he was artistically and philosophically make me regret not having read his works. Another notable place on our trip was a rather small church in Stare Mesto that had an interesting legend. According to the legend, a statue of the Virgin Mary was adorned with a beautiful necklace. One night, a thief hid in the church until all the priests had left. He climbed up to the statue, reached out for the necklace, and much to his surprise and chagrin, the statue grabbed the man's arm and held him aloft until the next morning when the priests returned and summoned the executioner with his axe. The thief assumed they would cut off the statue's arm, but he was wrong. The thief's arm was cut off and he was sent to jail. Whether the story is true or not, an old, blackened, shriveled, severed arm remains hanging in the church as a warning to theives.

Over the next few days, we saw too many people wearing Czech Me Out shirts, learned that sitting inside a smoky bar (all of which are smoky) makes your clothes smell too terrible to wear, ate Bohemian and potato dumplings ( knedliky), found a delcious bagel place, and ate traditional cuisine at some of the Easter markets. Czech food is heavy in nature and usually incorporates a cream of some sort, meat, potatoes, and bread. They also had the most genius idea: fried toast. We discovered this upon ordering beer cheese and toast. The beer cheese was unique, a little stinky, and unforgettably delicious. The toast was the real treat. It wasn't merely toasted; it was crispy, greasy, and beyond grilled. I think fried bread should be a staple on any menu. One of the other amazing dishes we sampled was garlic soup (cesnekova). The broth is garlicy to the point of perfection, and crouton-type-breadcrumbs are dropped into the soup right before it is served, so the bread is still a little crunchy, and therefore amazing. On a visit to a monastery, we saw the monastic library collection and also visited the monastic brewery, which had a seasonal Easter beer, so we had some cultural immersion time at the monastery. We also found an amazing microbrewery called Pivovarsky Dum (pivo is Czech for beer) that served traditional beer in addition to banana, sour cherry, nettle, and coffee brews. We went there twice and banana was by far my favorite. After spending too much time at Pivovarsky Dum, we also learned that the Prague metro is amazingly efficient and was probably the reason we made our train on time.

In many ways, visiting Prague in spring has accompanied a sort of spring awakening in my traveling mentality. After becoming a little jaded in my travels, it was nice to go to a place where no one tried to buy me, where prices were set on a menu instead of being inflated based on my passport, and where I was not considered scantily clad while wearing a short-sleeve shirt. So, we have now moved on to Krakow, Poland, where we have met up with Mike and are currently holed up, with some friendly American students studying abroad in France and some very rowdy Spaniards, inside a rather posh hostel on a rainy Easter Sunday.

Egyptian Demands: A Baksheesh for Your Thoughts

For those of you who may not know, baksheesh is the Arabic word for tip or bribe, which I also wrote about in “Honk If You’re Egyptian.” I cannot emphasize the prevalence of this Egyptian practice: one cannot escape baksheesh! Even the smallest favor seems to warrant financial reciprocation, where a similar situation in most places in the world would require a simple thank you. At a tourist-oriented restaurant, I once saw an employee go into the ladies’ room ahead of me, flush the toilet unnecessarily, and then demand baksheesh from me before I entered the stall.

So, am I surprised to hear rumors that Egyptians are demanding baksheesh from travelers attempting to leave the country to ensure their safety in the midst of political uprising? Absolutely not. This led me to think, however, that if the Egyptians apply the persistence they exhibit when demanding baksheesh, they have a pretty good chance of receiving the democracy they demand. If I were to describe the Arabic culture, I would characterize it as passionate and determined. In some cases, these characteristics manifest themselves in the interminable sales pitches enticing you to buy a carpet or hookah. In other, more moving cases, passion and determination is manifested in the reliability of the muezzin’s beautiful call to prayer, in a candid and proud religious celebration in the street, or, in the case of Egypt, in the tenacity of a very poor, but culturally rich people.

As I watch and read the news, I am most struck by where the Egyptian people are demonstrating: I have been in some of those places. I travel because it opens my mind to experiences and cultures; it makes me a better person, and, at times like these, it personalizes the struggles I am witness to via various media outlets. When I see demonstrations outside the Library of Alexandria, I fear that the impressive structure I was awed by may be burned down yet again. But who am I to put a price on democracy? Maybe a library is a fair cost? I think the beautiful and friendly Alexandria deserves the government it wants. When I see pictures of Midan Tahrir (Tahrir Square), I remember a dangerous, chaotic, and indescribably intricate roundabout where there was a major Metro stop, access to a bridge to cross the Nile, dozens of tour operators, and, oddly enough, a KFC. Midan Tahrir was always a bustling square, but now it is the locus of a rebellion. I feel privileged to have been to some of the places that have become rallying points for a revolution, and I wish the Egyptians luck as they fight for something in which they believe. Whether it is for baksheesh or democracy, I think the Egyptians will put up a good fight until their demands are met.

Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea

According to The Christian Science Monitor, "There's a whiff of a classic about Ella Minnow Pea." I would have to argue that point: I think the book reeks of a classic with a stench of pure ingenuity. In fact, it is quite possibly one of the most clever books I have ever read. I discovered the book via the Powell's Books Daily Dose, which sends daily book recommendations from Powell's customers. The description led me to a simple conclusion: I must read this book. I was not disappointed.

Ella Minnow Pea (think L-M-N-O-P) is an epistolary novel that consists solely of letters exchanged between characters. The novel is set on the fictional island of Nollop, named after the inventor of the legendary pangram, "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." The pangram is proudly posted on a statue in the center of the island until one day a tile with a letter falls off. The governing body of the island decides Nollop is speaking from beyond the grave. The message? That the fallen letter is no longer allowed to be used in writing or in speech. As tiles continue to fall from the statue, letters continue to be banned. In an effort to avoid the banned letters, the epistolary-inclined Nollopians must creatively author their letters. As the permissible letters decrease, Mark Dunn sneakily and eloquently continues the epistolary exchange, but, by the end, the letters resemble text speak, and each acts as a bit of a literary puzzle that necessitates some phonetic gymnastics. Not only is the plot engaging, but the spelling is downright inventive. The true treat comes at the end of the book when the citizens attempt to create their own pangram with less than 32 letters in order to restore legal use of the entire alphabet.

This book could have been about many things: censorship, separation of church and state, or literary culture. Though the novel would be a successful commentary on any of these topics, the most successful aspect of the book is its charm. It was amusing, unique, and thought provoking. As I finished this book in record time at the JFK airport at the beginning of a very long, post-Egypt layover, I could only regret that I had not savored the story longer.

RECOMMENDED: Highly

NEXT READ: Lev Grossman's The Magicians

REREAD: Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate

Dunn, Mark. Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters. New York: Random House, 2001.

Honk If You're Egyptian

Amid all the history, culture, and wonder of Egypt, there is one constant. One persistent feature impossible to ignore. Mummies? No. The image of King Tutankhamun? No again. The pyramids? Egyptians could care less. The unifying factor of all the places we explored in Egypt? The incessant, call-to-prayer-interrupting, often maddening, sound of horns honking. Egyptian's vehicular aural communication is as difficult to decode as the intricate dance of the honeybee. Short honk followed by long. Three short honks. Two long honks. What did it all mean? Each pattern seemed to have some hidden meaning, a Morse code of sorts that only the other erratic Egyptian drivers understand. (Employing a driving style to rival the insanity of the Italians, Egyptians ensure each crossing of the street is a test of speed and agility that not even Frogger would dare to attempt.) As we made our way through each city, each midan, and each street, one honk became abundantly clear: a long, loud, resounding horn meant, simply, get out of the way, and do it fast.

After walking across the border from Israel to Egypt, we were immediately greeted with the most classic of Egyptian customs: being offered "a special deal" that roughly equates to someone thinking you are a sucker who will overpay by about 300%. After politely declining, we had a 2.5 hour drive on a microbus (the same as a sherut in Israel) through Sinai and along the coast of the Red Sea, to a small diving-centered city called Dahab. We rested for a few hours, and then crawled aboard yet another microbus for a 2 hour drive to St. Catherine's Monastery at the foot of the impressive Mt. Sinai of Moses and Ten Commandments fame. The adventure in store? I hike to the top, beginning at 2 AM, in an effort to reach the summit in time to watch the sunrise. As we trekked up the steep, dark, cold, camel-lined trail I concluded two things: I am still terrified of camels and Moses was a crazy person. I must admit, the feat was worth it, the view impressive, and the experience unforgettable. Six hours later, after the hike down, we were back at monastery, visited the burning bush, and then took the microbus back to Dahab where we had a few hours of rest and koshary (which was insanely delicious and only rivaled by the delectable mango juice that was in season), before our overnight bus ride to Cairo.

Cairo put our haggling skills to the test immediately. As soon as we retrieved our baggage from the bus we were offered yet another "special discount" on a cab ride to our hostel. The offer? Two hundred Egyptian pounds. The offer after converting to USD? Around $36. The hilarity of it? The cab ride should only cost about 30 Egyptian pounds (around $6). Which, after an epic bout of haggling, was what we paid to get to Talaat Harb Square, our neighborhood for the next five days.

Cairo is gigantic. With a population of 25 million people it is sprawling, fast-paced, and has a modern downtown with historic areas scattered throughout. We explored Old Cairo, Coptic (Christian) Cairo, the island in the middle of the Nile, and walked our legs off on daily ventures into different directions into the city, and I think Josh can attest that I sampled the mango juice that each area had to offer. Of course, everywhere we went people wanted to help us out. Not only were we welcomed by dozens of Cairenes everywhere we walked, but they also offered to accompany us to where we were headed so that we wouldn't get lost. This assistance inevitably had one of two results. The first result: we would, just happen, to walk right by a store where our guide would receive a commission if something were purchased (I believe "high-pressured sales" does not quite do this phenomenon justice). The second result: we would, not so nicely, be demanded to proffer up a baksheesh (tip or bribe). This practice borders on the absurd. Imagine someone offering to give you directions, and then upon dispensing the unsolicited information, that person demands that you pay them. Or if you happen to take a picture of, say, the Nile, some random person might insist that pictures are not allowed unless you pay them. Keep in mind that this is a lie, you know it is a lie, and you realize the person has no authority, but you then cave into handing over the 3 Egyptian pounds (60 cents) in the face of an escalating disagreement that potentially, usually, results in someone yelling at you in harsh Arabic, that I suspect involves some cursing.

Alexandria, 2 hours by train northwest of Cairo, offered a beautiful reprieve from such antics. We walked from the central train station along the corniche (the road along the shore) to the Library of Alexandria. On the way, not only did we enjoy the peace of looking at our map and guidebook without offers of help or demands for baksheesh, but we had the most delicious meal of our trip. What could have been more fitting than a grilled fish freshly caught from the Mediterranean accompanied by baba ghanoush, fresh vegetables, sauteed peppers and onions, and the requisite side of french fries? And then to top it off with the Library of Alexandria?! I beelined to the literature section (800) and the presence of the classics on the shelves of this most historic of libraries sent my heart all aflutter. It was amazing, and beautiful, and the best part is that it is a fully functioning, high tech, modern institution. The ample seating was being utilized by university students doing what university students do in libraries: finishing homework, napping on open notebooks, and, of course, Facebooking.

But what would any trip to Egypt be without a visit to the pyramids? We saw them all: Giza, the Sphinx (I know, I know, not a pyramid), the Red, the Bent, and the first-ever attempt at a pyramid: the Step. They were magnificent. And those are only the major ones. We went inside the pyramid of Pepi I, and also hung out in Djoser's funerary complex. The whole experience was nothing short of amazing. To see hieroglyphs in person! To be inside a pyramid and have that eerie feeling that you are in someone's burial chamber! To walk to the crest of a sand dune and see even more, lesser known pyramids fill the skyline! I am so lucky to fulfill what was truly a childhood dream, and it was worth every baksheesh paid along the way.

1 Shekel, 2 Shekalim

After a week spent in Israel, Josh and I only realized en route to Egypt that the plural of shekel (Israel's currency) is not shekels, as we had been so fondly calling them. The proper pluralization, apparently, requires the addition of '-im.' Still, I think the shekel is my all-time favorite name of a currency. I have also taken poetic licenses and more than once told Josh, "A shekel saved is a shekel earned." I'm not sure how Mr. Franklin would feel about my alteration of his well-known adage, but I choose to think he'd take it in moderation.

I'm not sure how to describe the plane flight from New York to Tel Aviv. I suppose turbulent suffices for both the cloud-induced bumps, as well as the behavior of the passengers. I've never thought that flight attendants were so close to using physical force -- those Israelis did not want to stay seated, did not want their seat belts fastened, and did not want their seat backs and trays in the upright position. I cannot count the number of times a flight attendant had to announce, "Get back in your seat! Yes, you, sir. You are the one in the aisle." And when I deplaned I had never seen such disarray! The mess left on that plane is nearly indescribable. There were cups, in-flight magazines, plastic utensils, and airline blankets, and pillows strewn everywhere. It was as if all airline-related paraphernalia had tried to stage a revolt.

As we stepped into the Tel Aviv airport, we readied ourselves for the high level of security scrutiny about which we had been forewarned, but traveling through the airport was a breeze. In fact, that was a repeated pattern: our expectations pleasantly debunked. To be perfectly candid, I haven't written sooner because I haven't wanted to take time to stop exploring Jerusalem and then Tel Aviv. Jerusalem was more than anything I could have expected. Not only was it amazingly traveler-friendly, it was amazingly friendly in general. Without a doubt, our typical Western notions of the city do it a great disservice. There was merely a fraction of the conservative attitude we had been lead to expect, and where the conservative did exist, it seemed the only expectations on visitors were simply to respect it, and not to adhere to it. Except for a rogue tout (who, after we refused his services, in hindsight, deliberately told us the wrong path to take to Mt. Zion) everyone was immensely welcoming and helpful. The residents of Jerusalem seem almost as if they want visitors to love the Holy City the same way they do, and were especially handy to help with directions. We experienced this within 5 minutes of entering the city after our sherut (shared taxi) dropped us off. Because where would it drop us off if not on a random street corner in the middle of a strange, new city? And what could be more comical than Josh being completely convinced the sherut driver had pointed down the street, and me being absolutely sure he had pointed us up the street? In the end, it seem we had been pointed across the street. As we stood with our backpacks looking up at the street signs, down at the map, and up at the street signs again, not one, but two passersby, stopped to offer us help.

After that, navigating was a piece of cake. We walked our feet off in the Old City, where Christianity, Islam, and Judaism coexist in one gigantic walled-in city, filled with souqs, markets, restaurants, churches, and mosques. Over two days we toured the Old City, visited the oh-so-new-and-modern Israel Museum, walked the Via Dolorosa (Way of Sorrows aka the stations of the cross), hiked down from the Mt. of Olives, visited the sight where Jesus was believed to be buried, and I had some mighty delicious bagels and lox, shawarma (scrumptious seasoned meat, usually in a sandwich or pita), and a few other Isreali staple foods. Then, it was off to Tel Aviv, where I put my academic pants on and presented a paper on publishing at Israel's First Academic Writing Conference and later attended some interesting lectures. Then, I had one of the best burgers of my life, topped with grilled eggplant and Bulgarian cheese. Tel Aviv is exciting. Every street has its own personality, and we stayed in the city center, and then by the beach, where I thoroughly enjoyed a dip in the Mediterranean.

So, on Sunday we took a four-hour bus ride from Tel Aviv to the border city of Eilat, took bus 15 to the border crossing in Taba, paid our 98.5 shekel (25.26 USD) exit fee in Israel, and walked over the border to Egypt, where I am writing from now. I can't wait to follow all the advice on my brother Mike's "Egyptian To Do List" which mostly includes the cheapest places to acquire food. We are off to eat dinner at one of his recommendations in Dahab called Koshary House, which features an authentic Egyptian dish consisting of pasta, rice, spicy tomato sauce, lentils, and fried onions. I will let you know how it is!

Blog the First

Well, friends, today is the day. Today is the day I give the world my first blog entry. As a longtime resident of the Twittersphere, I have decided it is time to delve into the blogosphere. I have already exceeded 140 characters, and I feel like a rebel!

I am a simple creature, with simple tastes. I like my books (well-edited, of course) and I like the people in my life, who indulge my bookish ways. But, you may ask, why am I starting this blog now? I admit, it has taken me awhile to get on the blogwagon. This is mostly due to the last three years of my life spent juggling an English master's program, a Scholarly Publishing Certificate program, tutoring a fourteen-year-old in English and writing, freelance editorial work, working at various jobs and internships, volunteering at an organization that records books for the blind and dyslexic (RFBandD), presenting papers at academic conferences, and, in any remaining free time, reading for pleasure and sleeping. Why all the free time now? Well, despite what I consider being extremely qualified, I have had little luck in getting a job. More precisely, I have had no luck getting publishers to hire me as an editorial assistant so I can work towards the real goal: being an acquisitions editor. More on that later, because I suspect jobless woes may contribute content to this blog to some degree.

Besides being a highly qualified, vivacious, young lass not being able to secure a publishing job, what else do I anticipate this blog to bring? Well, it will have a lot about books. The books I am reading, the books I have read, and the books I want to read. I find it difficult to read as anything but a critical thinker, so I will likely defy the popular opinion on books. I have two English degrees under my belt, so, to put it simply: I read a lot and expect a lot. I will also regale you with the calamities and adventures freelance editing brings. I am an avid traveler, so await tales of foreign lands! My next trip is in July, when I find myself traveling to Israel and Egypt. And, due to semi-popular demand, I will, from time to time, harness my inner snarkiness to ruthlessly judge and possibly mock egregious errors of the typographical, grammatical, and spelling variety.