I finished reading How To Be A Woman this weekend. It’s a humourous, up-to-date book on feminism with stories from CM’s life so far. It was enjoyable, revealing and inspiring. It gave me a lot to think about. Depressingly I do happen to work in an undeniably sexist environment. But after reading the book, I did challenge some sexist comments in my workplace yesterday. My challenge was deflected using humour, so I didn’t get the satisfaction of having my point accepted, but it’s a start.

I’ve always felt ever so slightly embarrassed when I’ve seen Caitlin Moran’s stuff, either when she was on TV presenting Naked City in the Nineties or reading specific passages of her book. I’ve always been fascinated by her and her steep rise to fame because she’s my age, grew up in Wolverhampton and isn’t from a rich family. In short, she could have been one of us (I’m referring to my group of friends from school). So when she makes jokes in the book that aren’t funny or when she joked that Richey and Nicky of the Manics needed a wash on Naked City it makes me squirm a little because it’s like she’s representing all women in their mid-thirties from Wolvo. However I don’t want to sell her short and so I should point out that are several very funny moments in the book that made me laugh out loud. How To Be A Woman shows that Caitlin Moran has grown up a lot, been through a lot and is extremely clever. I have to respect her for all those things.

Most importantly, the book has inspired me to get rid of a pair of very uncomfortable shoes which I never should have purchased in the first place. I have big feet and the world needs to start dealing with it.

(17th in 2012)

I finished reading this tonight. It’s about a girl growing up in Germany during WWII and those who play a part in her life. It is narrated in a punchy style by none other than Death himself.

It was very interesting for me to learn about what life was like for Germans at that time, as I’ve wondered in the past how a nation could collectively allow such atrocities to happen. Just for the record, I know realise the Germans suffered too, maybe not in the same ways as the Jews, but things weren’t easy. They were sent to die in the war or at least were short of food and terrorised by the Nazis. At least some felt shame even at the time.

There were some parts of the book where I felt a bit impatient because nothing seemed to be happening. But I think those parts are deliberate; ordinary life is interspered with the significant events to show that the characters are human.

The Book Thief is very powerful in spite of using only simple language. I cried during the last chapters. But at other times I laughed. Sometimes my heart was warmed by the spirit shown by the characters. At other times it thudded with fear for them.

There is a lot to The Book Thief. A Guardian review decrees that everyone should read it. I’m inclined to agree but with the caveat that they read Maus as well. Maus tells a similar tale but from a Jew’s point of view. It is even more powerful than The Book Thief and is one of my favourite books of all time.

(16th in 2012)

He’s like the coolest, smartest dude ever.

I stumbled upon this book at the library and decided to give it a go. It’s good. The book is about an Indian man who comes to England and falls in love with a Welsh girl whom he marries but the story spans both the generation before and after them. The Indian family is Gujarati, so much of the culture and language is familiar to me. The complications of a mixed marriage are obviously close to home for me too. The couple’s children, two girls, are young adults in the mid-90s, so they are about the same age as my sister and myself, but they seem to get away with all kinds of behaviour that my Gujarati community would count as scandalous and totally unacceptable. The girls’ stories stirred up in me some uneasy feelings about my own young adulthood: Should have been braver? Why didn’t I feel the kind of support from my extended family as the girls did?

Leaving my own drama aside, this book is warm and lovingly written. There are gorgeous, evocative descriptions. I relished the funny, charming colloquialisms. The book helped me to know Gujarati women again: their humour, obstinacy, wisdom, superstitiousness and boundless love.

(15th in 2012)