Book Review: The Jewel of Medina by Sherry Jones

Earlier this year, in an attempt to learn more about Islam, I spent some time trying to find a fictionalized account of Muhammad’s life. At the time, I felt this would be a starting point for learning more about the foundations of Islam. Though my search was certainly not exhaustive, it was purposeful, but in the end I didn’t find any historical fiction about early Islam. I remembered thinking this seemed odd; a completely unmet literary niche. But since I had no plans to write such a book myself, I settled instead for a couple of nonfiction books by Karen Armstrong, which were highly recommended as primers about Muhammad and Islam.

By the time Sherry Jones’ book “The Jewel of Medina” became an LT ER option, I’d forgotten about my earlier quest to find historical Islamic fiction. Consequently, I neglected to realize that “The Jewel of Medina” is actually something of an extraordinary undertaking. It wasn’t until I was well over half way through the book that I learned about its controversial publication.

“The Jewel of Medina” tells the story of A’isha, who was married to Muhammad at a very young age (nine?). Her story explores the unique perspective of not only being a child bride, but also of being one of many wives. A’isha’s life occurs during a significant historical crossroads; she was witness to the birth of one of the world’s great religions, and all the bumps that attended that birth. It is also a story about love and friendship, communication and trust. It illustrates A’isha’s journey towards finding peace with oneself and one’s lot in life. While Muhammad is certainly a central character, this is a book about women, and its plotline is driven by their actions and feelings.

From a strictly literary standpoint, the book is mediocre. It is a moderately engaging story; neither difficult book to put down or difficult to pick up. Jones spends most of her time drawing the female characters and fleshing them out (specifically from A’isha’s perspective; the book is written in the first person). There is little room given to the sights, smells, and atmosphere of being in 7th Century Middle East. Consequently, that place to which the reader longs to step into is disappointingly blank. Little of the imagery lingers; there is little sensory stimulation. This was disappointment for me, because the aspect of historical fiction I most enjoy is to be transported to another place and time.

Authors are supposed to write what they know, and though Jones is certainly a woman and writes about women’s issues, she isn’t Muslim. Jones’ characters seem to be drawn heavily from a 20th Century perspective. There is a chasm of character-intuition that is self-defeating. This is a book more about feminism, 7th Century-style, and less about Islam itself.

Furthermore, I kept encountering the fatal flaw of a lot of historical fiction: how much of the story can be trusted as factual? For me, and a lot of my reading friends, this is a significant question. When this question comes between me and my ability to absorb the story, there is a problem. Especially when the story in unfamiliar territory. Jones’ novel is relationally-driven, rather than driven by historical fact.

For a story about the origins of one of history’s most influential and significant religions, the book is notably void of spirituality. This may be part of the inherent problem with writing about another person’s faith. The lack of Muhammad’s poetic revelations is notable. Everyone in the story seems to be paying lip service to “al-Lah”, but there seems to be no real “showing it” examples of the characters being molded and shaped by God. There is no sense of any character – Muhammad included – having a genuine encounter with God.

On the plus side, what Jones does right is to make her characters fully human. Despite their historical importance, they make mistakes; they are driven by lust, greed, and selfishness. In this sense, they are real and accessible. Even if it is from a 20th Century Western feminist perspective, there were times when I had to pause reading the book and imagine myself in a similar culture and time.

Is it possible for a non-Muslim, Western woman to tell this story? This question nagged at me from the get-go. And clearly, this seems to underlay many of my comments. Certainly, it is a story that should be written, as should many other stories about Islam. And if Muslim men and women won’t do it, who then is left?

Turning the question around, could a book about Jesus Christ written by an atheist be relevant? As a Christian, my answer to that question is: yes. If only to understand how someone outside of my belief system views its foundation and founder, yes, such a book would be very valuable. (And many such books – both respectful and scathing - have been written.) It is also likely there would be parts that would seem to “misunderstand” my faith, and perhaps even be offensive. But in a pluralistic society it is a hopeful sign when people of different worldviews and cultural contexts deeply try to respectfully understand and honor each other.

This is certainly what Sherry Jones has tried to do. No, she’s didn’t get everything right, but who of us ever does? It’s a place to start. If you enjoy Philippa Gregory’s books, and if you liked Anita Diamant’s “The Red Tent,” I suspect you might enjoy “The Jewel of Medina.”

Advance Book Review: "Olive Kitteridge" by Elizabeth Strout

I am not normally a fan of short stories. While I appreciate the technical abilities of the short story writer, I find “shortness” troublesome. Generally, the longer a book is, the more appealing. Consequently, I was initially leery of the descriptions of Elizabeth Strout’s newest novel, “Olive Kitteridge,” which calls itself “a novel in stories.”

All of the stories in this book occur in the town of Crosby, Maine. At the center of many of the book’s stories is the person, Olive Kitteridge, a retired teacher. In the stories that don’t feature Olive, her name may appear only once in an effort to tie it to the larger work. That the stories center on one town, and a limited number of that town’s inhabitants, who also reappear from time to time, I did not encounter my usual problems with short stories. This book gently reminded me of what is best about short-stories: a brief slice of a life, a snapshot that tells a complete-enough story. In having all these stories bound together, one feels a bit like the proverbial “fly on the wall”; a fly who may spend most of, but certainly not all, it’s time in one particularly interesting home (Olive’s).

I especially enjoyed reading about Olive in her post-retirement years, the ways in which she deals with other people and herself. In many ways, I can identify with Olive, having doled out bits of malice in angering situations; or having been soft and tender-hearted during others. Like Olive, I too have been both fool and sage.

I really enjoyed “Olive Kitteridge.” Olive is a complex person vacillating between viciousness and compassion. In the way all people are puzzles, so is Olive. In one story she does something deplorable, in another she potentially saves a life. People can never be fully known, merely experienced in bits and pieces, from which a general portrait may be formed. This book is a testament to the mystery that is humanity: why we do what we do, what motivates us, how even self-knowledge is warped and lacking, and how ultimately, all people are fundamentally incapable of seeing themselves as a whole. Olive also embodies hope: one is never too old for surprises.

Many of the “stories” in “Olive Kitteridge” are deeply profound and thought provoking. I will not be at all surprised when this book does very well. It’s structure is unusual; it’s message is penetrating and accessible and universal. Olive causes me to think of the many complex, and at times unlikeable, people in my own life in a different way. Strout is a master of revealing the many onion-like layers of interpersonal relationships. Halfway through “Olive Kitteridge” I went out and bought two of her other books. I am also tentatively considering reading some other short-story collections by authors whose novels I’ve loved.

Like any great book, “Olive Kitteridge” slightly shifts the way in which I look at the world and other people, and perhaps most importantly, myself.

My First "LibraryThing Early Reviewer" Book Review

About a year and a half ago, I joined LibraryThing, an online community for booklovers, on which to catalogue one's personal library. This is a fabulous website for me, because I now have all my books online; can meet other uncontrollable bibliophiles; meet published authors who also LibraryThing; and, perhaps best of all, get free books.

(My LibraryThing profile is here, if you want to see it: http://www.librarything.com/profile/alaskabookworm.)

Several months ago LT rolled out a new program called Early Reviewers. Using one of their many clever techie mathematical formulas, it was determined that based on my personal book collection, I might in fact be a good person to review newly released books. So, they emailed me (among about 199 others) to see if I would be interested in lotterying each month for a chance to “win” a book, which I would then be expected to read and review.

Well. You don’t have to ask me a thing like that twice. So, what follows is a review of my first book:

As both the mother of four young children, and an intermittent Sunday School teacher, I have often found myself at wit’s end while cooped up with antsy youngsters. Many are the times I have simply run out of curriculum or activities, while time slowly ticks until dismissal. Though I’m sure I must have played many games in my own youth, at these times, “Duck, Duck, Goose” is the only children’s game I can ever remember on the fly. For all these reasons, “101 Pep-Up Games for Children” by Allison Bartl is going to be an invaluable resource for me.

From the publisher: “The games are designed to handle a variety of sitatuions: whether you’re working indoors or outdoors, with small groups or entire classrooms, if you have 5 minutes or half an hour.” It’s really true, too.

Designed for children ages 4-11, this book is the ideal tool for various-sized groups of mixed age kids. In many cases, the games require absolutely no preparation or props, which for someone like me, is perfect. The book is well-organized, with easier games towards the beginning and more advanced games towards the end. Pre-defined symbols indicate what size group a game is best suited for, or other special requirements such as space to move or necessary props. Whimsical drawings are found on every page.

All of the games are specifically designed to release pent up energy, or to re-energize a listless group by moving the body. The description of each game is so straightforward and brief that I’m often left wondering, “Why couldn’t I think of that?” But the truth is, thinking of children’s games is not my strength, and that is why “101 Pep-Up Games for Children” is going to be such a fabulous tool.