Tag Archives: opioids

The Monday Book – Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry

Posted on by
Reply

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader and always learning; sometimes substitute teaching, sometimes grandbabysitting, sometimes selling books

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry

It is simply uncanny, the timing of my reading of most books and then the tentacled webs of connectivity to other incidents and events in either my own life and/or life in general and on the larger grand plane of existence, locally and more broadly. That I read this book just weeks ago, and got all of this insight into Matthew Perry–truly listening as he, himself, read the audiobook “to” me, and that he then died two days ago is…simply uncanny.

I truly appreciated the honesty and sincerity with which Matthew Perry told this, his, story, and today I am so much sadder for this unfortunate and final result for his life: death way, way, way too young: 54. It just so happens that Matthew Perry and I are the exact same age, he just a few months younger than I and now eternally so.

From here, my review of the book when I read it, no knowledge of what would come so soon and next for this dear old “Friend,” may he rest well and truly, ultimately, be at peace.

While I understand that these are addictions Perry suffered, I am still stunned by the excessive waste of money and rehabilitative care and privilege exuded by his many expensive actions and cannot help but feel like he threw away numerous opportunities over and over again; I know quite closely and well people who would give anything to be given such an extension of life and opportunity–and their health–for much, much less cost or requirement for change on their part.

Over time with these lengthy cats-and-Matthew-Perry-apparently-have-nine-or-so-lives, Groundhog Day-like stories of his returning to rehab only to continue to use, complain about the rules and refuse to follow them, ditch the program, etc., I grew even more weary of his constantly crass language and dismissive treatment of others.

I believe I listened generously to Perry’s story and understand that the core issues stem back to the “unaccompanied minor” status of his existence during his parents’ break-up and their individual abandonment of him. And I heard and understood his honest revelation of his sexual difficulties.

But the steady and gushing bragging–best word I can find–about nearly everything from his giving Chandler Bing his character, to changing the way that emphasis on lines occurred for him and many others from there, to his many cars (gosh, is the green Porsche even the same one as the just a bit later “forest green” Porsche?) and gorgeous views from multi-million dollar homes…just all took its toll on me by the end. A completely reckless–careless–waste, so much of it seemed.

Somewhere along the way (and a very long time ago in the lengthy, sordid, repetitive stories), my willingness to be sympathetic anymore or at all was lost completely. If, at the very end, he is expressing any apologies at all or requesting forgiveness, it is completely lost–for me–by all of the names he dropped and then immediately dragged through the mud, by the crass and constantly cursing language, and by having spent so much time detailing his innumerable refusals to allow anyone to help. He seems to have been a pretty big jerk and over and over again to many. I just can’t feel sorry for him, I am sorry to say.

Really the only thing I “learned” is that Perry’s dad was “the” Old Spice guy of my childhood tv commercials. I see the resemblance. Unfortunately, everything else I learned convinced me that Perry was and wasn’t everything and anything like his beloved and better understood Chandler Bing. That beloved “Friend” is now gone and replaced, for me, by this less lovable actor.

Life is–for many of us–far more fragile and precious than that Perry describes.
And money not falling from the trees or abundantly banked–in much greater excess than need–for lots of us.

I get that his point, ultimately, and which he stated over and over is that none of the things that should have made him happy did, but he spent soooooooo much time painting the extravagant pictures of all that he had–still has–and then so foolishly threw away that I really grew weary…annoyed, actually. The story had no redemptive conclusion for this reader…but now that I have written this, and then Perry passed and not so quietly this weekend…presents more pause.

Like so many others, I am quite sad about his passing. I will not be able to unhear him telling me his story myself…or be haunted by this juxtaposition of events: reading, well, listening to his audiobook in his own words and voice just weeks before he died.

Truly, rest well, Matthew Perry. Rest so peacefully well.

Come back next Monday for another book review!

The Monday Book – All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir

Posted on by
2

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader and always learning; sometimes substitute teaching, sometimes grandbabysitting, sometimes selling books

All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir

86: All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir

I added this book to my tbr list the very day I subbed in a local high school’s “at risk” classroom and learned that this was the book they were reading together as a class and wanting to–before I would sub for or even run into any of these kids again–read what they were reading.

As soon as I obtained it, it moved into “on deck,” and as soon as I could, I dug in and thoroughly devoured it. What. An. Important. Book.

Classified as “young adult” literature for its main characters, Sal and Noor, being young adults–high school seniors when the story starts–All My Rage is a book for all ages, teenagers and beyond, given its tremendously important content: loss and grief, racism, drug use and abuse, post-secondary education, alcoholism, relationships, music, and its various and very relevant themes. Everyone should read it…and then talk about it with others. Smart and thoughtful young adults reading it may feel “seen” and understood in variously valuable ways, and parents and grandparents, along with other adults playing those roles in young people’s lives–neighbors, as well as other family members–reading it may “see” those children’s and grandchildren’s lives in ways that are better understood and newly discussable, all of them able to talk, together, about the book and how they do and do not relate to its content in valuable new ways.

The book is very well-written, the stories told alternately from the points of view of Sal; his mother–Misbah–in earlier times; and Noor, his classmate and long-time friend. The three of them weaving together their current stories with the previous ones, together detailing how they’ve all gotten to “here” and “now” and then also working through that which comes up during the novel’s duration. We learn about others, as well–Sal’s father, Noor’s uncle and his wife, Sal and Noor’s classmates–yet all of them primarily from these other prime lenses and perspectives, their characters less “main” but not necessarily any less round or dynamic to the full story and its value, or the value of any conversations or discussions about them, furthering the book’s value.

There are some similarities between author Sabaa Tahir and main character, Sal–each living in their parents’ small family-run motels, for instance–so one does wonder if there’s even more that is common to their experience, this another example of some “auto-fiction.” I’m certainly of the mind that Tahir knows well her subjects and tells well the stories, so it’s entirely possible.

There are rich allusions to music and that layer of things, most especially a steady reference to a Johnny Cash and U2 collaboration, “The Wanderer,” to which I am just now listening. I was reminded, in experiencing this aspect of Noor’s character, of a number of students–including one especially treasured one in particular from many moons ago–who definitely listened to their music as distraction from all of the real noise coming in from all angles and as comfort and therapeutic soothing, centering and calming their souls and giving them strength. And this regular reference also reminded me of my own long ago brush with U2, running into their bass guitarist Adam Clayton at a rest area in the fall of 1990. Those were the days…(about which I still need to write, myself!). A super wonderful playlist could be created from the book’s mentioned titles, allowing a reader to hang in the musical mind of Noor and see some things like she did. And given Tahir’s own love of music and nerdiness, I suspect this might be a visit to her own musical tastes, too.

As a huge advocate of a good AP English classroom’s valuable purpose–reading good to great literature together and then helping kids to develop their discussion and writing skills to similar strength–I so valued this component of All My Rage‘s values as well. Tahir knows her stuff…and maybe had a good teacher and AP experience herself, that she writes about it this way. I also value tremendously that in the book the AP English teacher, Mrs. Michaels, teaches from her wheelchair, and I cannot help but LOVE the book’s entirety being a testament to a very favorite poem of mine, Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art.” There is so much about this book to value and appreciate…and the layers and layers necessary for “literary fiction” that are well-met.

Additionally, that Tahir acknowledges up front the book’s “triggering” content, including Islamophobia, repressed sexual assault, and more…is very much in line with the practice of reading and even teaching books that include the tough stuff so that it can be discussed, talked about, processed, and more, rather than “banning” the best books to avoid alllllllll of those realities from being shared. It is only when we read and discuss and process–together–the best books that we learn the most important lessons.

Come back next Monday for another book review!