pain

Georgic Stories

gwen — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

University of Missouri, Kansas City, BkMk Press

Mariko Nagai’s Georgic Stories is a book worthy of its acclaim, but that does not necessarily imply that I want to read it again. When I recounted it to a friend once I finished reading it, I did not feel as if I was describing the stories or engaging in critique as much as I was repeating a terrible testimony. The stories demand retelling: they are compelling views of a world where the pinnacle of joy is a child’s possible, but not guaranteed, escape from starvation.

With its title inspired by Virgil’s work on rural life, the tales contained in the pages manifest his observation, “Shameful work conquers all.” The characters and their predicaments are so fundamental that they aren’t even given names. Well, one protagonist is; the prostitute, Monkey, is referred to by the insult given to her by customers when she started her profession.

Nagai’s ten stories unfold in a torn and barren landscape devoid of any poetry other than that of pain and desperation. Virgil’s didactic hexameters provided detailed descriptions of the plow, the merits of the olive tree over the vine, and the virtues of a simple bucolic life over the corrupt bustle of the city. The tales in this Georgic offer a manual on how to survive the unsurvivable in a world where all are corrupted by need.

The narratives brutally manifest Brecht’s “Food before ethics.” “Grafting” starts with words as meager as the village stores: “Harvest. Another failure. Third year in a row.” After the second failure the villagers sold their daughters, now they attempt to reduce want by carrying their elderly off to a mountain to abandon them.

In “Bitter Fruit,” rare kindness is displayed when a bathhouse proprietor advises a prostitute on how she might induce a miscarriage by standing in a freezing river. The attempt fails, and her child is born into prostitution. A woman in a different story adopts the vocation when a plague-stripped land and town desolated by war leave her with no other means of procuring food for her children, and the sole male in the community to serve as client is the village idiot. Some stories come directly from the trials of history; women in Manchuria at the end of WWII, a woman imprisoned for her role in a town’s execution of a downed American pilot. One is inspired by a folktale and contains vicious whimsy.

I can wholly recommend Georgic Stories. Instead of keeping it to reread, perhaps you can give to a friend. Perhaps she will be inspired to write the georgics of China, Darfur, the Ukraine, Argentina, Chile, and all other lands ravaged by flood, drought, and war, lands too many too name.

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, April 25th 2011

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

admin — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 08:02:00 +0000

By Paolo Giordano

Penguin

My best friend often teasingly tells me that the books I recommend to her are all too depressing and sad. I always counter that I recommend books that make me laugh. Now, that either means that I have a sick sense of humor, or it simply illustrates that the stories I most enjoy reading combine painful topics and awkward characters with humor, sarcasm, and witty writing.

Paolo Giordano’s The Solitude of Prime Numbers is exactly such a book. Giordano’s debut novel is the story of Alice and Mattia, two awkward and painfully lonely teenagers. Alice is marked by a childhood skiing accident that leaves her limping and deeply insecure about her body. In those cruel teenage years, she develops an eating disorder in an attempt to regain some control over her body. Mattia is haunted by suffocating guilt after the disappearance of his twin sister when he was nine years old. Alice and Mattia connect over their pain, their awkwardness, and their acute sense that they don’t fit in. But their bond is fragile, subtle, and built on a silent agreement that neither reveal the source of their pain to the other. Even in their connection, they remain isolated and lonely, never fully able to overcome what keeps them emotionally locked into their own worlds.

Eventually, their lives go in different directions and they separate, without ever openly communicating what they feel for each other. But despite being thousands of miles apart, neither Alice nor Mattia is willing or able to let go of their unusual bond. Reunited by a chance encounter, they are faced with a decision: to truly let the other in or return to a life without the other.

Giordano masterfully paints a world full of pain, loneliness, and love. While the humor in The Solitude of Prime Numbers is very subtle, it is there, in the background. It makes the tragedies bearable, the loneliness less hopeless. So yes, this novel is sad and depressing. But it is also incredibly powerful, and it will make you chuckle softly from time to time as you follow Alice and Mattia in their struggle to survive their childhood experiences.

Written by: Annette Przygoda, July 11th 2010

Headache Soother Badger Balm

admin — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 07:51:00 +0000

Badger Balm

I suffer from migraines. They date from the eighth year of my life, but it took until my junior year as an undergraduate to get much-needed prescription drugs. After a three-day headache left me unable to leave the house, I squinted and hobbled to the nearest bus stop and took a shuttle to the student health center. The kind physician who met with me also suffered from debilitating migraines. “Do you twist your body into weird positions for relief?” he asked. When I immediately nodded my head affirmatively, he began nodding as well. “Only a fellow migraine sufferer understands what I mean.” He wrote a script, and a trip to Walgreens later, I began popping pills that have since saved me from indescribable pain.

As the years have passed, I’ve gained insight into my own condition. Several years ago, I began acupuncture treatments, which radically improved my physical and emotional health. I still get migraines, but they have decreased in frequency and intensity. As much as I’ve wanted to find relief in holistic tablets, however, nothing works for me like cocktails of ibuprofen and Excedrin or prescription sumatriptans. When I can’t call on my acupuncturist for needles, I get additional respite from cooling patches on my head and neck, shoulder, and foot massages from my brilliantly supportive partner.

Badger Balm makes a Headache Soother that—while not an all-in-one cure—is a palliative blend of peppermint, eucalyptus, lavender, mandarin, and sandalwood oils. The scent alone is respite from distracting pain. The extra virgin olive oil-based balm rubs on with no resistance, and does not leave an unpleasant residuum that takes several hot showers to fully scrub away. Unlike the Tiger Balm my partner prefers for his achy shoulders, my animal-titled salve has no medicinal properties.

The Badger Balm tin features a badger resting by a stream, eye mask in place to block out intrusive lights that often aggravate headaches. It says that it can be rubbed “anywhere you feel a bit tense.” The one-ounce tin also says, “We hope you feel better soon!” Me too, folks.

Badger balms, oils, soaps, body butters, and sun care are made with mostly organic and 100% natural ingredients in New Hampshire. They also make products for babies and children, as well as lip balms in sticks and tins. While they do use beeswax in their products—as a vegan, this is admittedly problematic—they do not test on animals and encourage recycling. The W.S. Badger Company feeds their employees a 100% organic lunch every day, and company employees are paid to volunteer their time for local environmental causes.

While I am not a short-legged, wide-bodied carnivore, I feel a kinship with the badger. They burrow, and I’m also known to tunnel under the covers when my head hurts. They do not hibernate, though they can sleep for long periods of time. The longest I have ever slept in a migraine haze was seventeen hours straight, and only after persistent shaking could I be roused. One can only wonder how long I would have dozed. I hope my healing product’s namesake does not suffer as we humans do—and if they do, may it not be because of us.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, October 21st 2009