Thursday, September 8, 2011

The final installment of Bossypants and A Long Way Gone

Parting is always bittersweet. It's okay, Tina. Control your tears. We'll meet again some other time.
The third act of Bossypants (which really isn't the third act at all because Bossypants, like many other nonfiction books, isn't divided into acts; therefore, when I say "the third act," I truly mean "the third time I picked up this book") centers around Tina Fey and her family (specifically her daughter, Alice). She talks about breastfeeding, a labor of love that she endured for 72 hours; spending Christmases with the in-laws; things she wants for her daughter (in the form of a prayer); and the possibility of her having a second child. She ends by saying that "everything will be fine" no matter if Alice remains an only child or if she (Tina) decides to have another child (275).
Bossypants ends the way it started. With humor. And for that, I am eternally grateful because Fey could've easily screwed over a perfectly good book with the sappy Hollywood finish. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed Bossypants. It was a quick and interesting read with large print, generous margins, and frequent photographs. Just kidding, I was genuinely more interested in the contact than I was in meeting homework requirements. I would recommend this to anyone. While the content is directed more towards women, I think men could learn something and be entertained by the book as well. I mean, what man doesn't want to talk about female puberty and breastfeeding?
Oh, and for the record, after looking up Tina Fey on Wikipedia, I would like to say three things.
1.) Tina Fey did indeed have a second child (a girl named Penelope) in August 2011.
2.) Tina Fey's husband, Jeff, is much shorter than she is. Though I'm not sure if he actually is shorter or if Tina's just wearing some really extreme heels.
3.) Tina Fey is getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame this year. Snaps for Tina Fey.

Anyways, after indulging in Bossypants, I felt like I should read something heavier. Something with more sustenance. So I picked up A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah. It has a lovely cover (I love the photography and the composition of it). Because, I'll admit, a large part in whether or not I'll read a book is the cover.
So A Long Way Gone  is a memoir written about Ishmael Beah's experience growing up in Sierra Leone in the midst of a rebellion. A twelve year-old Beah must leave his family, survive living in a war-torn area, and forgive himself for his mistakes. While many books in literature tried to tackle the loss of humanity and innocence (I'm looking at you Lord of the Flies and Heart of Darkness), I think A Long Way Gone is even more powerful because I found myself finishing a chapter and stopping to remind myself that this really happened. Beah's first-person narrative is really strong. It is simple, and it's almost journalistic.
When reading A Long Way Gone, I was reminded of The Rape of Nanking, which is an excellent book about the historical incident, the Rape of Nanjing (which is my family's hometown). Don't read it if you don't have a strong stomach (it literally gave me nightmares and made me feel physically ill after I read it).
But enough drawing connections. Back to the book. So far, Beah has been separated from his mother and father and is later separated from his brother. He has encountered the rebels multiple times, and each time they are inhumane and armed with heavy artillery. He stays in the forest for a while and then runs into a group of boys. He joins them, and wherever they go, people are wary of them and either watch them constantly or run away from them. One of the most moving passages in A Long Way Gone, at least in my opinion, is a passage when the boys reach an abandoned city. There is only an old man left awaiting his death. He invites the boys to eat dinner with him. When asked for his name, he asks to be remembered only as the old man the boys had met on their way to a safer city. He doesn't want them to waste a memory for his name. As the boys leave, Beah looks back to see the old man sitting on his porch. He is not afraid for his own life. Rather, he is afraid for the lives of the seven boys. It made me wonder how long it takes for a person to come to terms with their own mortality. Do some people never come to terms with their mortality? What has to happen before you come to terms with your mortality?
A Long Way Gone provides a stark contrast to Fey's Bossypants. It's much more narrative-driven and deals with a darker subject matter. I find it equally enjoyable but in a much different way.

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