Category: Nonfiction

Once upon a time there was a story that needed to be told.  It is about something we all need to be aware of, yet few of us are aware.  It begins with cells and with a poor, Southern woman named Henrietta Lacks who died at age 30 and is buried in an unmarked grave.

But what it really goes back to is this question:  who do our bodies belong to?  Whether you believe in God, an afterlife, and souls (or not) when Science hits on a certain discovery it sometimes makes claims–or stakes claims–on things that can further research.  Does it have that right?

Henrietta was dying of cervical cancer and being treated at Johns Hopkins when her doctor took a sample of her cells and gave them to George Gey, a researcher at the hospital who was working on cell growth and duplication outside of the human body.  No patient consent was asked for or given.  No family consent was asked for or given.  After all, Henrietta was getting free medical care, and the hospital’s rationale was that, in exchange for that care, they could bypass asking for permission.  They had done it with other patients and this time was no different.

But Henrietta’s cells were different.  After multiple failures trying to duplicate cells artificially, George Guy was suddenly handed the scientific version of the goose that laid the golden egg.  Except in this case, there were billions of golden eggs, because Henrietta’s cells multiplied again and again…and again and again.

She died, unceremoniously, leaving 5 children and a husband behind, but her cells lived on, and live on to this day in labs around the world.  Renamed HeLa cells, their relentless fortitude in continuing to multiply has made them instrumental in some of medicine’s most important research.

Fast forward several decades when the author, Rebecca Skloot, a too-smart-for-her-own-good student who constantly challenged the conventional school system, was sitting in a science class at a local community college.  After teaching a brief lesson on the HeLa cells, the professor wrote Henrietta’s name on the blackboard.  A spark and questions began to emerge in Rebecca’s mind, as did a quest to find out more about this unsuspecting woman who had given so much.

There are some people who are born to write a certain book and tell a certain story.  Henrietta’s story was waiting for Rebecca Skloot to come along and pursue the multiple avenues required to do it justice.  What she didn’t know was that Henrietta’s children had been used, lied to, and taken advantage of so much over the years, that the last thing they wanted to do was trust a young white woman inquiring about their mother’s cells.  Just gaining their trust took years.  All they knew was that Johns Hopkins and many others had capitalized and profited off of them, and they had nothing.  They didn’t even have health insurance.

There is much, much more to this story, and what you will realize as you read is that the author’s and Henrietta’s children’s stories merge together during the decade of research it took to write this book.  There are parts that are difficult to read–both Henrietta and her children grew up with abuse, abandonment, and incredible poverty–a recipe for extreme hardship that affected generations of the Lacks family.

But the story also contains discovery, redemption, apologies, allegiance, ethics, and friendship. Henrietta, her children, the researchers, and the author all have their own journeys, and the lessons learned–for them and for the reader–are the kind that stay with you.

I highly recommend this book.  It will make you question and be grateful for many things.

9 stars out of 10

I don’t know if our fascination with Russia will ever diminish, partly because the culture, government, and history are so different from that of the US.  And it is this fascination, plus a job offer and the desire to investigate his family history, that motivated Nicholas Daniloff to move his family there in the late 1970’s.

Yet, despite knowing the language, the quirks of living in a country under the umbrella of so much mistrust, and being familiar with the experiences of other journalists who had been detained by the KGB, Daniloff himself was arrested just days before he and his wife were set to move back to the States.

Imagine–I don’t think we can–being nervous about forming new relationships for fear of the person being a KGB agent. Imagine having to save personal discussions for out on the balcony because of KGB microphones in your apartment.  Imagine using code words on the phone to avoid suspicion–even when you are doing nothing wrong.  This is what life was like.  Mistrust, fear, and deprivation. Deprivation of basic needs, information, and access to the rest of the world.

The “two lives” referred to in the book are the author’s and his great-great grandfather, a military leader at the time of the Decemberist movement.  Nicholas Daniloff has a unique ring that belonged to his ancestor, and the chapters switch back and forth between the events surrounding his arrest and his research into his great-great grandfather’s life and military service.

I found myself deeply fascinated with the chapters dealing with his imprisonment and endless interrogations.  The stress he underwent as he was accused of being a spy and handling illegal documents must have been terrible.  My attention waned during the other chapters.  There were too many tangents, too many names to remember, and too many branches of explanations.

If the entire book had dealt with his arrest, with only minor references to his ancestor, I think I would’ve been a lot more interested.  But I do understand the author’s need to draw parallels between his 2 week ordeal and the ten-year imprisonment his great-great grandfather endured.  Their experiences were not entirely alike, but it made the author feel closer to him, which is a trait many of us have to family members we hardly knew.

7.5 Stars out of 10

While waiting for Downton Abbey’s third season to begin in January, I have been enjoying a new BBC series, Call the Midwife.  It is based on the memoirs of a midwife named Jennifer Worth, and so I also began reading her book.

Jennifer Worth, who was “Jenny Lee” before she married, worked in London’s East End during the late 1950’s.  She and other young single midwives lived in a convent called Nonnatus House, side by side with a handful of nuns who also worked as midwives, ran a clinic for the expectant mothers in the area, and helped the young women like Jenny Lee complete their training by giving them field experience.

The East End was comprised of slums and tenement housing.  Unwashed children ran through the streets.  Houses of prostitution was commonplace.  Families usually squeezed into one or two rooms.  But with England’s socialized medicine, prenatal and antenatal care was available to everyone, regardless of their financial situation.  The nuns and young midwives were kept very busy.

Despite its whimsical cover, this book is not for the squeamish. But it is not gratuitously graphic either.  Most chapters deal with different birthing experiences that Jenny was in charge of, assisted in, or witnessed.  The East End’s poverty level brought its own set of challenges in many of these experiences, such as lack of sanitation in people’s homes, lack of electricity or phones for calling the doctor, or pre-existing illnesses in laboring mothers.

But this is not a story full of depressed people in depressed circumstances.  The author shows her awe and respect for the East Enders’ resilience despite those circumstances.  If you visit my other blog, Improvise the Harmony, and read the post called Happy =), it explains that, as long as people’s basic needs are met, they have the same capacity for happiness as someone who is much wealthier.  This memoir is a testament to that fact.

If you have been watching the series, you will recognize that some episodes have been completely lifted from the book.  But there are plenty that are not.  The book also gives us more insight into the regular cast of characters–who are based on real people–such as the other young midwives and nuns at the convent.

There is one chapter that made me squirm a bit, that was graphic in another way.  The chapter entitled “Cable Street.”  This chapter has, unfortunately, given me reason not to suggest the book to my book club.  It is a shame, too, because the rest of the memoir is delightful.  Despite this chapter, I do recommend the book.  Jennifer Worth’s writing style is the perfect balance of reporting and descriptive, and it is never boring.  It is one of those “slice of life” books that takes you to another place in another time.  The fact that everything in it really happened makes it all the more interesting.

8.5/10 Stars

There are few things more satisfying than finding a book completely by accident and then plunging yourself into it completely.  I found this delightful book while browsing through the Amazon lending library.  The sample I read was so endearing that I abandoned what I was reading at the time and took this book up instead.  Over the last few days, I have affectionately called this my “Elsie book,” verbally recommending it to several people.

Through detailed letters and diary entries compiled by her granddaughter, we learn that Elsie Hayes was an idealistic young woman who lived in Southern California at the turn of the 20th century.  She went to college for a while, but needed funds to continue her education, so she embarked on the adventure of a lifetime–leaving the comfort of her family and moving to Oak Creek, Arizona to teach school.  This decision changed her life forever.

There are charming aspects to the story that simply reflect a simpler time, such as Elsie’s social life–dinners at people’s houses, and the way people visited with each other (in person!) instead of texting, emailing, or simply giving a “thumbs-up” on Facebook.  It was the kind of socializing that required effort, manners, conversation, and skill.

The more I got to know Elsie, the more I felt I knew her.  She and I have many things in common–we are both from Southern California.  We both taught school before we were married.  We both saw our younger siblings get married before us and, though we guarded our independence, longed to have a wonderful man love us and take care of us.  We both saw our plans uprooted in one relationship when Fate took a tragic turn, yet found relief in the arms of the person we were truly supposed to be with.

Aside from these remarkable parallels, reading about Elsie brings pure joy.  She was optimistic, resilient, and knew what she wanted in life.  She loved her students, but still faced the challenges a teacher is bound to face.  (I did laugh at one of her diary entries when she remarked that she told a naughty student to go home.  If only!)

The one thing I would make future readers aware of is that, because of the time period, Elsie’s references to other races may offend some people.  She speaks once of “learning Mexican” from one of her students, and the “n” word appears once as the title of a play she is reading.  None of these words or phrases are used maliciously; they were simply acceptable at the time and her granddaughter did not alter them for authenticity.

I would very much recommend this memoir.  Rarely have I enjoyed a glimpse into the past as much as seeing it through the eyes of Elsie.

9.5/10 Stars

Elsie’s granddaughter, Barbara Anne Waite, does have a website where you can learn more about Elsie in her later years.  You can find it at http://barbaraannewaite.com/.  I would recommend visiting it after reading the book.

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A FUN TIDBIT  October 13, 2012

This morning I sent a quick email to Elsie’s granddaughter to tell her how much I enjoyed the book.  A few hours later I heard back from her!  This is what she wrote:

Dear Kristie-

Thanks so much for your sweet note. It is such an encouragement to hear from readers that enjoyed “Elsie.” The response  has gone way beyond my expectations and prayers. I do hope you go to my website : www.BarbaraAnneWaite.com.  Under “Tidbits” there are photos not included in the book and some extra historical notes. I am willing to make a special price for book clubs who want to order the print copies. If they are ordered together, (so I can mail as one mailing) I can do for $10.00 each if mailed within USA. The print copy has a lovely hand written font that can’t be done as an e-book.  Would you consider adding your review to Amazon’s Elsie site? I think that really helps my sales. I love it that I have had reviews from New Zealand, Ecuador, Crete, Korea and Canada. My favorite review was from a lady 103 that read it on Kindle and Skyped her review to her daughter.  I live in San Diego.   I am speaking to a book club there soon and I’m very excited about that.  I am going to look right now at your book review site and thanks for including “Elsie!”

These past two months, my book club decided to take on the challenge of reading the very long and very comprehensive biography of Thomas S. Monson, president and prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  We decided that the timing would be perfect since we were not meeting in August, which gave each of us eight weeks to delve into the 600-plus pages.

Getting started was not easy, but it was nothing compared to the daunting task the author faced when Pres. Monson called her personally and asked her to be the one to write his life story.  To write a prophet’s biography would be hard enough, but to write the biography of a living prophet who is adored throughout the world would be monumental, indeed.

Despite my sympathies for Sis. Swinton, I do think that she had a hard time finding her footing at the beginning, and her writing style is a little sterile.  This is something that the entire book group agreed on, and so we decided to focus more on the book’s content than its literary aspects.

Whether you are of the LDS faith or not, whether you agree with the Church’s doctrine or not, there is one thing that is undeniable, which is that Pres. Monson is an extraordinary man.  Born in 1927 and raised by a loving family in Salt Lake City, Utah, even as a boy little Tommy was unique.  His concern for others, his attitude towards service, his work ethic, and his unwavering faith all began at a very young age.

He took on adult responsibilities much younger than most, and excelled in each job or calling.  Married at 21, a bishop at 22, in the stake presidency at 27, a mission president at 30, and called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at the unheard-of age of 36, the accelerated rate of his callings only magnify the fact that his wisdom and faith exceeded his years.

There were some sections that I felt compelled to skim (his schedules, Boy Scout awards, descriptions of various committees,) but other sections required my full attention.  His work with the saints in East Germany was incredible and I learned things about him and the challenges experienced by the church members caught behind the Berlin Wall that were awe-inspiring and faith-building.  I also loved reading about his humility, because even though he has been in very prominent Church positions, Pres. Monson still remains incredibly humble, and incredibly focused on serving the Lord and His children.  His actions and decisions are always driven by the Lord’s will and not his own.

Every church president has a “focus” during his tenure, whether it be missionary work or temples, but Pres. Monson’s focus seems to be about helping the Lord’s lost sheep and bringing international attention to the saints scattered throughout the world.

And throughout his life, Pres. Monson has still retained a love of life, laughter and fun.  He is devoted to his wife of 61 years, his 3 children, and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

I was more inspired by his example than his accomplishments.  Few will be able to duplicate the things he has done, but anyone can emulate how he has done them.

8.5/10 Stars