The Monday Book: TELL THE WOLVES I’M HOME by Carol Rifka Brunt

wolvesThis is a complicated book. Its central character is 14 and has that bouncy back-and-forthness of wisdom and childhood coming out in lovely sentences like “That’s what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth.”

The book is about June, her older sister Greta, their late Uncle Finn, and Finn’s partner Toby. Finn is June and Greta’s mother’s brother, and both adults are talented artists. But one is doing taxes and one is dying of AIDS. Like I said, it’s complicated.

The writing is beautiful. Some of the main points are kind of unbelievable–like two girls from Westchester can get up in the middle of the night and drive to Bellevue without their parents noticing, etc. But overall the emotional range of the characters and the plot driven by their needs, angers, and hopes holds up well. Everybody wants something. Not everybody can say what they want, or why they don’t want some of their other family members not to get what they want. That’s the point around which the action rotates.

If you like character-driven drama, you will love this book. If you remember ’80s AIDS–ignoring, exploring, deploring–you will love this book. If you have no patience with unresolved plot points, you might not. There are some loose threads left dangling, but as Stephen King says, “Life has a lot of those. Why shouldn’t writing?”

The weirdest part for me, but the part that many reviewers liked the most, is how the sisters used a painting their uncle had done of them to communicate with each other. Worth a lot on the art market, the girls deface it to send coded messages when words fail them. It was an intriguing take on the art book genre.

Overall, I love the way Brunt writes, and how intensely she draws her main characters. One paintbrush up for TELL THE WOLVES I’M HOME.

 

Whit’s fir ye will nae gang by ye!

Jack’s post is almost on time again – –

I had a wee bit of a scare, for  a few weeks up until this morning.

To start from the beginning: Wendy worries about me, which is very reassuring. So she makes doctor’s appointments for me from time to time in the hopes that the results will tweak me towards a lifestyle she’d find more to her liking. Mostly not smoking! I’ve been smoking since I was sixteen so that’s sixty years.

When I was called for the latest check-up, our sweet, kind and highly professional Dr. B said that I should probably get a CT scan and that it would be free. Well – living up to my Scots background I was all for anything that was free! I went and it was very brief; the paperwork took longer than the scan. But then Our Good Dr. B phoned and said the scan had identified something on one of my lungs. She wanted me to have a PET scan now. I googled and could see this was a bit more ‘intense’ – an IV of radio active iodine for a start!

Meantime I received a letter saying that the initial scan was ‘likely’ not showing cancer – so slightly reassuring – – – Wendy felt that was a very good sign as well.

As our annual Celtic festival had been approaching I had asked that the PET scan be left until after that, and took more reassurance from the doctor’s willingness to delay.

Finally I had the PET scan: first the dreaded iodine IV and then waiting for an hour and a half while it coursed through my body. Then the scan took twenty minutes. All this time I’m wondering what might turn up…

pet scanner

This morning, though, Dr. B phoned and her first words were “I have good news”. She continued to explain that there was no evidence of any unusual ‘metabolic activity’ and this was a good sign that there was no cancer!

Almost my immediate thought wasn’t of relief – that came later. My first thought was for the folk who have the different phone call. Then I thought of our doctor, who must have had to made these other calls. She is a lovely woman with very obvious empathy with her clients and patients. How she handles having to make those other calls I can’t imagine.

So my thoughts tonight are of the folks who get the other kind of phone call and the doctors who have to make them; Wendy and I are holding you in the Light.