A Stolen Life was written by Jaycee herself and covers the period from the time of her abduction in 1991 up until the present. In her stark, compelling narrative, she opens up about what she experienced—and offers an extraordinary account of courage and resilience.

Note: This kind of book doesn’t really lend itself to my usual Like/Dislike format. Instead, I’ll just write about my overall impressions.

Reaction: I was simply blown away by this book. I’d heard of Jaycee Dugard’s amazing story, of course, but I hadn’t seen any interviews, so I wasn’t sure of where the young woman’s mind was at with regard to what happened to her. Amazingly, she seems to be doing much better than I ever would have expected. She has no room in her heart for hate and won’t waste the rest of her life letting Phillip Garrido continue to control her.

Jaycee was kidnapped in 1991 as an 11-year-old while walking to the school bus stop. Garrido, a convicted sex offender, took her for one reason only: to be his sex slave. He began by making Jaycee touch him that very first day, and then raped her a few days later. The brutal rapes continued for years and years, and resulted in Jaycee having her first child at 14, and her second at 17.

I just cannot even begin to imagine what it would have been like to be locked in a tiny room all day with your rapist being your only source of human contact. At 11 years old, Jaycee had no idea what was going on, so she naturally believed everything that Garrido told her. The mind control and manipulation was every bit as despicable as the sexual abuse, and is the main reason Jaycee never tried to escape during her 18 years in captivity. From reading her firsthand account of what was going on, I can’t say I blame her. She was 11, for god’s sake. She grew to depend on Garrido, and to a lesser extent on wife Nancy, for EVERYTHING. She didn’t know where she was or what was waiting for her outside the “backyard.” Despite the rapes, she at least felt safe at the Garrido place — and this became more important than anything else after her girls were born.

It was heart-wrenching to read Jaycee’s journal pages and learn how she worried so much because her mother’s face was fading from memory. She agonized over the pain her mother must have been going through and wondered if her mother thought she was dead. Again, I just can’t imagine having to wrestle with those kinds of thoughts.

One thing that helped Jaycee cope was having a pet. She actually had several cats early on, but Garrido would always take them away, saying he didn’t like the urine smell in the rape room because it took him out of his fantasies or whatever. My god. Garrido told Jaycee that he always gave the cats to his aunt, who loved them, but later on Nancy let on that maybe he was torturing them or something. Seriously, this man had ZERO redeeming qualities at all.

Jaycee’s rescue was poignant, mostly because even then, at age 29, she was so much under Phillip’s control that she couldn’t bring herself to tell police officers right away who she was. She tried to lie and cover for Garrido even then. And she couldn’t say her name even when it was safe to do so. The only way the cops got an inkling as to her identity was when she wrote it down on a piece of paper. Wow.

I thought I would read this book and cry a lot, or maybe not even be able to get through it at all. But that wasn’t the case. Jaycee’s strength and dignity come through loud and clear on every page, and made me realize that she is not someone to be pitied. Rather, she is someone to be admired because of her sheer resilience and her survival skills.

I’ve read other reviews where people have complained about how much Jaycee talks about her cats or how there’s a lack of hatred and ranting towards the Garridos. But those points didn’t bother me at all. The cats were Jaycee’s only source of love and companionship, so of course they took on special meaning for her. Plus, she doesn’t remember every little thing that happened to her. Her mind has suppressed a lot, which is a normal coping mechanism for those circumstances. And as stated above, she refuses to waste time hating the Garridos, so I’m not sure what would be accomplished by a rant.

Fortunately, Jaycee’s therapy seems to have put her in a good place. She’ll continue to get help, and she’ll continue to thrive. Of that, I have no doubt.

Rating:

Although this wasn’t a perfect book, I wouldn’t feel right giving it any less than 5 stars out of 5. I finished it in less than 24 hours because the story was so gripping and Jaycee told it in such a straightforward manner. This was a very engrossing read.

Yet Henrietta Lacks remains virtually unknown, buried in an unmarked grave.

Now Rebecca Skloot takes us on an extraordinary journey, from the “colored” ward of Johns Hopkins Hospital in the 1950s to stark white laboratories with freezers full of HeLa cells; from Henrietta’s small, dying hometown of Clover, Virginia—a land of wooden slave quarters, faith healings, and voodoo—to East Baltimore today, where her children and grandchildren live and struggle with the legacy of her cells.

Henrietta’s family did not learn of her “immortality” until more than twenty years after her death, when scientists investigating HeLa began using her husband and children in research without informed consent. And though the cells had launched a multimillion-dollar industry that sells human biological materials, her family never saw any of the profits. As Rebecca Skloot so brilliantly shows, the story of the Lacks family—past and present—is inextricably connected to the dark history of experimentation on African Americans, the birth of bioethics, and the legal battles over whether we control the stuff we are made of.

Over the decade it took to uncover this story, Rebecca became enmeshed in the lives of the Lacks family—especially Henrietta’s daughter Deborah, who was devastated to learn about her mother’s cells. She was consumed with questions: Had scientists cloned her mother? Did it hurt her when researchers infected her cells with viruses and shot them into space? What happened to her sister, Elsie, who died in a mental institution at the age of fifteen? And if her mother was so important to medicine, why couldn’t her children afford health insurance?

Intimate in feeling, astonishing in scope, and impossible to put down, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks captures the beauty and drama of scientific discovery, as well as its human consequences.

Liked:

• I had severe reservations about reading a book with such a scientific bent, but I simply couldn’t ignore all the positive reviews I’ve been seeing everywhere (and I mean EVERYWHERE.) I was shopping for cell phones one day and was in the middle of an htc review when the person mentioned this book. Seriously!!! As a result, I decided to give Henrietta Lacks a try — and was rewarded with one of the most engrossing books I’ve read in a long, long time. I positively tore through this book because the story was that compelling and engaging!
• I’m glad the Lacks family finally got some answers about what really happened with their mother’s cells and with sister Elsie. I’m a bit miffed that it took a good-looking, young white reporter to help them get those answers, but at least now they know.
• I thought Skloot did a tremendous job of explaining the science of HeLa so that laypeople could understand it. Sure, it helped that we also got the watered-down explanations that were also meant for Deborah’s benefit, but even the strictly narrative parts were done well.
• This has to be one of the most fascinating subjects I’ve ever read about. It’s amazing to think that the cancerous cells of one random, hitherto anonymous black woman from Virginia could have such a tremendously positive impact on science and the world in general.
• I appreciated Skloot’s portrayal of the various members of the Lacks family and agreed with her decision to show them warts and all. If she had tried to “pretty up” their speech or hide their various run-ins with the law, that would have done a disservice to both the family and readers.
• I like that Skloot set up a scholarship fund to ensure that Henrietta’s descendants will have an opportunity to pursue higher education. I believe Deborah — and Henrietta herself — would have been ecstatic to learn that the plan came to fruition.

Disliked:

• My heart ached for Elsie, especially with the knowledge that no one ever visited her again after Henrietta died. That poor, poor child.
• Deborah’s death scene was terribly poignant. It was well-written and touching, so I’m not including it in this section because it somehow detracted from the book. I just HATE the fact that Deborah, after going along for the 10-year ride and contributing so significantly to Skloot’s book, didn’t get to see the final product — or to see how the reading public has embraced her mother’s story. She deserved to see that, dammit!
• I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Deborah, with her very limited amount of formal schooling, to try to understand what happened to Henrietta. I think a lot of her heartache (not her anger, mind you, but her heartache) would have been diminished had she been able to understand from the beginning. I liked that she tried to get an education, and wish again that she had lived so that she could have used some of the book’s proceeds to take those classes she wanted to sign up for.
• The Afterword went on a bit long. By the time Skloot finished the “Where Are They Now” portion about the Lacks family, I was ready to close the book. But then she continued with the ethical issues regarding cell and tissue harvesting. I understand the desire to include that part in the book, and agree that it does fit in with the subject matter, but — it simply wasn’t for me. A condensed version consisting of a few pages (with perhaps a list of resources for those that want to investigate further) would have sufficed.

Rating:

Without a doubt, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is one of the best nonfiction books I’ve ever read. Rebecca Skloot is a talented writer who does a tremendous job of making an already interesting story even more gripping and personal. This is a book that held my complete attention from beginning to end, and I’m sure it will captivate you as well. I give it 5 stars out of 5.

Vicki Myron was the head librarian at the Spencer (IA) public library way back in 1988. She came in early one winter morning, as she usually did, and was surprised to hear a strange sound echoing around the building. She traced the sound to its source — the book drop bin — and after searching around, discovered a tiny kitten hidden among the stacks of books. It was clear that someone had heartlessly dumped the kitten through the slot, leaving it to nearly freeze to death as temperatures dropped well below zero. Vicki bathed the kitten in hot water to warm it up, then gave it some food. It wasn’t long before she fell in love with the little critter and decided to keep it.

Library cats aren’t that uncommon (something I didn’t know prior to reading this book), but Spencer, a very small town about three hours away from Des Moines, had never had one. Vicki convinced the library board to let Dewey (as she had taken to calling the cat) stay, provided that no library funds be used for his upkeep. Vicki paid for most things, while other staff members chipped in with cash or recyclable cans when possible.

Dewey became an immediate hit at the library. Once he recovered his strength from that initial ordeal, he instantly felt he belonged. He loved greeting patrons at the library, and frequently curled up on laps or in briefcases for quick naps. Most visitors enjoyed Dewey’s presence, though there were a few complaints. As time went on, Dewey became as much a part of the library and community as anyone or anything else.

Dewey’s fame grew, mostly because he was such a people-loving, gregarious, friendly, and smart cat — not standoffish or aloof at all, as some cats can be. He was profiled in newspapers and magazines across the country, and even featured on television shows and documentaries overseas. As Vicki said over and over in the book, Dewey never really did anything to earn this fame. He was beloved simply because he loved in return. Whatever the reason, Dewey Readmore Books (his full name) lives on in this book and in memory as one of the most famous cats in the world.

Liked:

• Dewey was the star of this book, so the anecdotes about him had to be good — and they were. As I said, I’m not a cat person. I’ve never had one in my life and have never been inclined to get one. But I have to admit I found myself wishing I had a Dewey in my life! He just sounded wonderful in every way, a true friend and companion who gave just enough of himself while knowing when to back off. What an amazing little animal.
• The story actually flowed pretty well. Vicki Myron had the help of a ghostwriter, which no doubt contributed to how good the final product ended up being, but she still deserves credit here. Sometimes these types of feel-good stories can get messed up if they’re not told properly. That wasn’t the case here.
• The end had me bawling, even though I knew Dewey’s death would be included. I am a sucker for animal stories, and cannot read a euthanasia scene without losing it. This was no exception, so be forewarned if you’re as sappy as I am.

Disliked:

• There were a few too many chapters about the town of Spencer itself and about Vicki’s life outside of Dewey and the library. That was to be expected, of course, as a book like this can’t just be about a cat. Those parts were a bit dull compared to the Dewey chapters, but they did serve to round out the story as a whole, so I can’t complain too much.

Rating

Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World by Vicki Myron is an exceptionally heartwarming story that any animal lover can enjoy. Dewey sounded like such a wonderful little fellow that if he were still alive, I’d be inclined to drive to Spencer to meet him. This book is not perfect, but the general spirit of the story is so elevating that I give it 5 stars out of 5.

Anne is a bright, talkative, wildly imaginative little girl who almost immediately captures Matthew’s heart on the 8-mile ride home from the train station. Matthew can’t possibly bear to tell her that there’s been a mistake; he’ll leave that task to Marilla. His sister wastes no time in beating around the bush. She takes one look at Anne, tells the child there’s been a mistake, and says the girl will have to go back in the morning. Anne is clearly devastated. She pleads her case to Marilla, but doesn’t know if her words have any effect on the spinster. They do, and Anne is allowed to stay.

The rest of the novel then shows how Anne grows to become an integral part of Matthew and Marilla’s life. Her bubbly personality, penchant for mischief and mishaps, and overactive imagination bring a kind of joy to Green Gables that the brother and sister never thought they would experience in their lifetimes. The novel also chronicles Anne’s adventures at school and with the other children of Avonlea, including kindred spirit Diana Barry, friends Ruby Gillis and Jane Andrews, and hated rival Gilbert Blythe.

Liked:

• Anne Shirley was a delightful character whose endless prattling was highly entertaining. I usually can’t stand precocious children in novels, but Anne was so different and completely irresistible!
• Many of the supporting characters were also well-developed, particularly Matthew and Marilla. I really enjoyed the interactions between Anne and Marilla, and thought her relationship with Matthew was sweet. Gilbert and Diana weren’t as three-dimensional to me, but I give Montgomery a pass on those two.
• There were a lot of funny scenes in this novel. I was surprised at how many times I laughed out loud while reading. It was a combination of Montgomery’s writing style/word choices and Anne’s misadventures that did the trick.

Disliked:

• The plot seemed rather disjointed on the whole. It often felt as though each chapter were a self-contained short story rather than part of a novel because a majority of the happenings were stand-alone events. But again, this was easy to overlook because the writing was so pleasant and enjoyable.
• I can’t believe it has taken me this long to “discover” Anne of Green Gables! I have a feeling that if I had read these books when I was 10 or 11 years old, Anne and I surely would have been “kindred spirits” and “bosom friends” forever!

Rating:

Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery was a truly wonderful book that was a real treat to read. There wasn’t a single slow spot in the entire work, and with Anne Shirley leading the way, I was always eager to see what happened next. I give this book 5 stars out of 5 and highly recommend it to readers of all ages. It’s never too late to befriend Anne!

The latest title I tackled from the list was The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope. I was a bit apprehensive about reading this novel because even though I love Victorian literature, Trollope’s name hardly gets mentioned in the same breath as Thackeray, Dickens, and others from the period, so I didn’t know what to expect. This would be my first foray into Trollope’s works — and the length of the novel was a daunting from the outset. But, I ended up loving this book and am looking forward to reading more from this tremendous writer!

Plot summary (with possible spoilers): The Way We Live Now is a sweeping epic of a novel with an ensemble cast of characters, so it would be impossible for me to provide a thorough summary here. The book follows a group of social climbers in London of the 1870s, and shows just how utterly corrupt and bereft of morals people could be back then (as now).

The main figure in the novel is Augustus Melmotte, a foreigner recently arrived in London. He is immediately accepted by the men of society because of his immense wealth, which is indeed all anyone can seem to talk about regarding the man. It’s unknown just how vast Melmotte’s fortune is, or how he attained it — though there are rumors that he might be a “swindler” of some sort. No matter, though. As long as Melmotte throws ostentatious parties and backs business ventures by his peers, he’s considered to be ok.

Most of the other characters in the novel are connected to Melmotte in some way. First, there are two or three young men who aim to be suitors of Melmotte’s daughter Marie so they can grab a share of the girl’s fortune. Among these suitors is Sir Felix Carbury, a shiftless, worthless fellow who cares for nothing so much as gambling and drinking at his club, and Lord Nidderdale, an amiable young man without a deep thought in his head, but who has the title that Melmotte craves.

Other characters flit in and out of the scenes as well, including Paul Montague, a business associate of Melmotte’s who finds himself seemingly inextricably entangled with an American widow named Mrs. Hurtle, Roger Carbury, Sir Felix’s older cousin, who is deeply in love with Felix’s sister Henrietta (though she prefers Montague), and Mrs. Carbury, Felix and Henrietta’s mother, whose love for Felix and acceptance of whatever he does leads the family to the brink of ruin.

The novel shows how these lives intersect, and how the characters’ fates are largely determined by their own greed and moral shortcomings.

Liked

• The characters were extremely well-developed, and were interesting enough that I cared about them almost right from the beginning. I can’t imagine reading a novel of this length with boring characters, so this was a critical point.
• Almost all of the subplots were as intriguing as the main plot. I truly enjoyed reading about Paul Montague and Mrs. Hurtle, as well as Felix and the two women he took up with. I think it’s a rare occurrence in books for all of the plotlines to be on nearly equal footing in terms of generating and sustaining interest, so this was a major accomplishment.
• The book is so well written that I hardly noticed the length at all once I was into it. Trollope’s pacing was superb, and there were very, very few boring spots along the way. I positively flew through this book in a matter of a week or so, which should give you an indication of how much I enjoyed it!

Disliked

• I honestly can’t think of a single thing I disliked about this novel. If I had to choose something, however, I’d probably say that the Melmotte in Parliament stuff wasn’t all that necessary. Those scenes probably meant something satirical when Trollope published the novel, but the meaning was lost on me as a modern reader, so those were the slowest parts of the book in my opinion.

Rating
The Way We Live Now is one of the best novels I’ve ever read. It’s wholly engrossing right from the start, features memorable characters, and flows extremely well. I give it 5 stars out of 5. Highly recommended!