A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

A Monster Calls follows the story of a thirteen year old boy, named Conor, who is learning to live with his mother's cancer diagnosis and her declining health.  With his mother's treatments also come nightmares for Conor.  Conor begins to be visited by a monster at 12:07 as he wakes from his nightmares.  The monster is formed out of a yew tree he can see from his bedroom window.  The yew tree monster tells Conor that he will tell him three true stories.  After the monster tells his three stories, Conor must tell a true story of his own.  If the monster determines that Conor's story is untrue, the monster will eat Conor.  The only problem is that Conor's story and his truth are not going to be easy to talk about.

The original creator, Siobhan Dowd, was terminally ill with cancer herself when she started working on this story.  She died before she could finish writing it.  Patrick Ness then took over and expanded the idea into the work it is today.  Ness also worked with a beautiful illustrator, Jim Kay, to really bring life to Siobhan's ideas.  The book has now been adapted to a film starring Lewis MacDougall, Felicity Jones, Liam Neeson, and Sigourney Weaver.  They also adapted it into a stage production in 2018, which looks phenomenal from the trailer and previews available online.

As soon as the story opens, you realize this is not going to be an easy, light-hearted read. Conor's mother is very sick, and the author isn't shy in showing the realities of cancer in a household.  For anyone who is sensitive to these topics or has experience with sick parents, just be aware that they don't sugarcoat the experience.  Make sure you have your tissues ready.  As someone who lost a parent to cancer at 17, I can so relate and empathize with Conor.  Especially his anger.  The ending of the book was so cathartic and something I really needed to read.  It really spoke to me on a personal level and helped me work through some of my own struggles surrounding my father's passing.  I don't cry often while reading, but I was crying through the ending of this book.  The ending was exactly what it needed to be.


Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Positives: Not too long - 226 pages; Interesting concept and idea; Spot on in terms of reality of the story line (at least for me)

* Negatives: A part of me wonders if you have to have experienced grief like this to "get it."  I saw a few different reviews from people who were annoyed or unfazed by the story.  I'm thinking they are just in the wrong demographic (or soulless people who have no heart) but if someone has no concept of grief, then they may not understand where Conor is coming from.

This Is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession by Daniel J. Levitin

I was having a conversation with a co-worker of mine about our most recent reads, and I mentioned that this was my newest book.  When I started to explain the concept behind Dr. Levitin's book, she told me that the books I read are too smart.  Well Laura, buckle up for this one!  Reading "This Is Your Brain on Music" felt like I was reading a textbook most of the time.  

I had been in a reading slump for a few weeks.  Nothing was grabbing my attention, and I had started and stopped multiple books.  I knew I was going to be in trouble if I couldn't find something quickly.  I started looking for topics that I knew I had an interest in.  The front flap of the book pitches a mix of neuroscience, the study of structure or function of the nervous system and brain, and music.  Those two subjects immediately peaked my interest.  I love learning about why we do (or like) the things we do.  And everyone likes music.  When I picked the book up from my library, the librarian gushed about how amazing this book was.  He even told me that he had put in a hold to receive it after me because he wanted to read it again.  I was excited to get started on this book.

The first two chapters immediately made me nervous.  It was like a Music 101 class that I had not signed up for.  It was explaining things like pitch, tempo, melody vs harmony, tritones, and dissonance just to name a few.  Not only would it give a definition of these terms, but it would break it down to explain how the brain interprets them.  To give you an idea of what to expect, Dr. Levitin writes, "pitch is a purely psychological phenomenon related to the frequency of vibrating air molecules."  It felt like the book was getting a bit above my head at some parts, even with a few years of piano lessons during my elementary school years under my belt.  I decided that I would continue reading but cautiously.  It became more enjoyable as it started moving away from music theory and more into the psychology  and neuroscience of music.  I would just have a few moments of "huh, never knew that before" as I continued on but rarely had mind-blowing WOW moments.  By the end of the book, I wasn't sure if I had really developed a deeper appreciation for music or the science behind it.

About a week or so later, I went to a funeral to support a friend's family.  The son sang and played the piano in tribute to his mom.  While listening to his music, I thought about the book I had just read and could pin-point specific moments that the author had referred to throughout the book.  It was helpful to see those theories laid out in front of me after reading about them.  But even in that moment, I don't think that meant I now had a deeper connection to that music because I could understand the scientific and psychological impact the music was creating.  I'm sure everyone in that room felt the emotions and the effect of his music.  If anything, I wasn't able to enjoy it for it's simplicity and be in the moment.  The book had taken me to a place where I was dissecting the music rather than enjoying it.

I think Dr. Levitin is brilliant, and the amount of effort, time, and thought that he put into the book is evident.  I just wouldn't be surprised if people use it as a recommended read on a course syllabus.  It certainly isn't a casual read.  (I'm starting to understand that I don't really read casual books at this point!)  I'd say that people who are aspiring musicians, music producers, or like music history would appreciate this book the most.  Other than that, I don't think run of the mill music listeners need to understand or know how to dissect their music interests.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5
* Positives: The material was informative and a lot was covered.
* Negatives: As much as they tried to write it in layman's terms, it still felt too academic and brainy.

I have to address something quickly before diving into the review.  A lovely coworker of mine featured my blog in the 12th floor newsletter!  So thank you to any new readers who may have started following along.  She mentioned that my next post may be a how-to knitting book, so I'm sorry if anyone was looking forward to that.  In reality, I know the majority of my "audience" is probably random 20-some year old friends of mine who notice my link on Facebook, so I'm thinking you all aren't too devastated that I strayed from a knitting book.  Hope you enjoy this lovely book below....

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

After reading this book, I thought this review would be really easy for me to write.  The writing style and the philosophy behind the book pull at your heartstrings enough to make you want to talk about how amazing the book is.  But this review in particular has taken me a few weeks to actually sit down and write.

The author, Paul, is coming to the fruition of his education as a neurosurgeon.  Countless hours have been spent working towards his goal of being a doctor.  When he finally sees the end in sight, he is diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer.  Paul Kalanithi passed away March 2015 while working on this book.  It was published posthumously January 2016.  Reading this short summary while standing in Barnes and Nobles was enough to peak my interest, but I had no idea how deeply Paul's writing would connect with me on a personal level.

Paul opens the book discussing his diagnosis with cancer.  I was pretty surprised he decided to start the book with that.  Especially since there was a lot of the book left to read, and I know from personal experience that cancer does not give you that much time.  I was a little afraid he would discuss the ugly side of cancer too much.  The sick, the death, the pain.  Luckily he did not take that turn.  He delves back into his past to talk about his early education in English, life with his wife, and changing his path to medicine.  He takes you through the struggle of medical school and the grueling hours.  Paul talks about his constant struggle with wanting to treat people as people instead of a diagnosis on a piece of paper.  And then the tables are flipped on him when he is diagnosed.  He suddenly becomes the patient and the statistic.  He goes from working full time, 100 miles per hour, and in control of his life, to an abrupt halt.  His doctor urges him to go after his passion because there is no guarantee in a successful recovery.  He has to decide if that is continuing in the medical field or following his first passion and writing a book.  Obviously, we are reading the product of his choice.

This book is about looking mortality in the face and doing so with a thirst for knowledge.  The beauty of the book is that you get to view it from the perspective of both the doctor and the patient.  It is hard to give this book the justice it deserves.  For that reason, I am going to finish the review by quoting a paragraph from the epilogue written by his wife, Lucy.  

This book carries the urgency of racing against time, of having importing things to say.  Paul confronted death -- examined it, wrestled with it, accepted it -- as a physician and a patient.  He wanted to help people understand death and face their mortality.  Dying in one's fourth decade is unusual now, but dying is not.  "The thing about lung cancer is that it's not exotic," Paul wrote in an email to his best friend, Robin.  "It's just tragic enough and just imaginable enough.  [The reader] can get into these shoes, walk a bit, and say, 'So that's what it looks like from here ... sooner or later I'll be back here in my own shoes.' That's what I'm aiming for, I think.  Not the sensationalism of dying, and not the exhortation to gather rosebuds, but: Here's what lies up ahead on the road."  Of course he did more than just describe the terrain.  He traversed it bravely.