Books on the Edge

I do a lot of reading out here, usually at breaks and before sleep but on a nice day you can find me reading while walking. I have tried to read what might enrich my walk around Texas, though I change it up from time to time. As per books that pertain directly to the state, I present the following:

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In Brownsville, Oscar Casares presents nine fictional stories about life in Brownsville, Texas. Why then, you might ask, is there a really long tail on the cover of the book? The tail belongs to the collection's only monkey, which makes an entrance in just one tale, though in the story, only the monkey's head plays a role. I had my doubts, reading about Bony and his bizarre obsession with the monkey's head which ultimately puts him at odds with his parents, but Casares made the darn thing work. In fact, I found myself getting into the lives of his characters more than I thought I would: a boy who gets a job working at a fireworks stand, a female bowler whose lucky ball gets stolen, a father whose son isn't tough enough for him. The prose is simple and straightforward, the commentary on life and purpose profound. And when there's a joke, which Casares works in form time to time, it's a long, hard belly laugh. Enjoy.
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Ron Hall and Denver Moore (with Lynn Vincent) share the tale of their friendship in Same Kind of Different as Me. Set in and around Fort Worth, a homeless man (Denver Moore) eventually runs into a wealthy couple (Ron and Deborah Hall) trying to spread some love at the local homeless shelter. After a vision, Deborah is convinced that Denver is important to their lives and that they need to reach out to him. Eventually, Denver reaches back, and during the rest of the story, they all learn about friendship, devotion, spirituality, and love. A quick, uplifting read.
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Though no doubt true, it was a little happy-happy joy-joy for me. I have a new perspective on the whole thing after being out here on the road. I can sense the difference between pity and a genuine helpful attitude. Both come from the same place, and while it's easy for a recipient to see the difference, it seems to be extremely hard for the giver to differentiate. I'm not the only who understands this either. A store owner back at the start of the panhandle commented on his assistant who gave me a candy bar before he clocked out for the day. After the guy left, he said, "See that? He thinks he's better than you, like he's the big man helping out the poor. All he sees is the backpack." I'm not saying that's what happened in the above book, but my experiences have allowed me to read it in a different way, perhaps the same kind of different way as you.
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The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan is still a book I'm working on, but it is fantastic. It details the general story of the Great American Dust Bowl while bringing the whole disaster to life with the personal tales of survival of about half a dozen main characters. I'm 200 pages into this 300 page book, and all the details have come together beautifully. I'm shocked. I don't remember enjoying Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck at all (that was in high school, though). It helps that I've walked through some of the towns he mentions (Follett, Oslo, Darrouzett, Texhoma, Dalhart), but the story stands on its own. The Worst Hard Time is fascinating and wonderfully told. Read it, read it, read it. While the cover quote is a little cheesy ("This is can't-put-it-down history." - Walter Cronkite), it is so so true.
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(Side note: Today is April 14th, the 75th anniversary of Black Sunday, the worst duster in the history of the whole mess.)
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Until next time, readers...