It is summertime, and in tradition with the many individuals and organizations who share reading lists for travelers seeking some stimulation while they sit at the beach, I’ve decided do something similar, with a twist.
I ended up reading a lot during my five months in reserve duty. It proved to be the ultimate distraction from my wartime reality; phones were a painful reminder of the real world. When I thought about writing up a reading list, I realized I could really recall particular memories associated with these books, markers of location, atmosphere, and mood. This provided value and comfort for me. I hope it may for you as well.
I’ve tried my best to organized them in chronological order, though it is possible that here and there I misremembered.
To Build a Fire and Other Tales of the North, by Jack London. I packed this slim collection in my first bag, when I had no idea where I was packing for and for how long. Just personal effects crammed into a bag. My past memories of reserve duty conditioned me to prioritize all of the little things, the flashlight, scissors, rubber bands, tape, and knife. Books go on that list as well. The army experience is a test of patience, you wait endlessly before something happens. Books provided relief from boredom. I had of course read To Build a Fire like any good American-raised middle schooler, but the rest of the short stories were unfamiliar to me. And what a thrill it was to read about a universe that was polar opposite (pardon the expression) from what I experienced in those hot early days of the war. I also recall London’s almost fatalistic acceptance of death in many of his stories, and how I related to his direct, honest approach about the human relationship with the natural world.
The Hidden Life of Trees, by Peter Wohlleben. I’ve always loved camping. We’d go up to New Hampshire as a family. At the end of high school, two friends and I crossed parts of the Appalachian Trail for our “senior year project”. When I completed my mandatory military service, I drove up to Alaska with a friend to camp around the Arctic Circle.
Camping for fun is different from camping out of necessity, and in the first month of the war I spent all but one night sleeping outdoors. We didn’t have to bivouac (I’ve always wanted to use that word). Instead we received camping tents, thanks to the generous donations of civilians who I think knew they would never see this equipment again. Deep in a woodland space, a military camp took form. It was us and the cows, foxes, and turtles that made the forest home.
Incredibly, we thought that this would be our situation for the duration of the war (which at the time some believed would only last weeks). Each day we started to make the space look more like home. We set up a small kitchen. Moved boulders out of the way. One of my friends who is a professional carpenter crafted a swing. On a quick 24-hr visit home, feeling like it was appropriate for the moment, I grabbed Peter Wohlleben’s fantastic book which details how plants communicate, and how they engage with both their environment and each other. Wohlleben is a scientist, but his writing style is easily accessible. I read the book several years ago at the recommendation of a good friend D.G. who was also serving in reserve duty at the same time. Rereading it while being surrounded by trees made it even more relatable.The Moon Is Down, by John Steinbeck. In many ways I found the books’ foreword more compelling than the novel itself. The Moon Is Down tells the story of an underground movement against an occupying force, and was penned by Steinbeck as part of an Office of Strategic Services (predecessor to the CIA) anti-Nazi propaganda campaign in Europe during WWII. It reads like propaganda, yet was incredibly popular in Europe during and after the war.
I read the book in a furnace room that we had converted into our sleeping quarters for the better part of a month. The cement ceiling and walls were black with soot. The opening, which was originally exposed to the elements, was eventually boarded up. My officer, Y.S., jerry-rigged a single bulb in the room so we had some light after the winter sun had set. Steinbeck’s intention with The Moon Is Down was to give Europeans living under Nazi occupation hope. Reading his novel in the midst of war gave me hope as well.Rebbe: The Life and Teachings of Menachem M. Schneerson, the Most Influential Rabbi in Modern History, by Joseph Telushkin. I ran out of books, and went in search of options on base. M.S. a nice guy who grew up in the US, offered me his Kindle (in exchange, I gave him The Moon Is Down. The first book that popped up was this biography of the Lubavitcher Rabbi - certainly the most prominent rabbi of my childhood. I can’t recommend the biography enough. Thoroughly researched, I learned a tremendous amount about a religious figure who acquired deep political and social influence and whose legacy continues to influence multiple Jewish streams.
A Recipe for Daphne, by Nektaria Anastasiadou. Love story. Descriptive language of Istanbul, one of my favorite cities. I cannot give higher praise to Anastasiadou’s novel, which was the most entertaining, heartwarming, and emotive book that I read while on reserve duty. Perhaps even higher praise, my wife loved the book as well. It is difficult to put down - I’m pretty certain I read it over the course of three rain-soaked days and nights (admittedly through guard duty stints) in December. As someone who lived and studied in Istanbul, and who will always have a place in his heart for stories about the city’s residents and its diverse cultures, A Recipe for Daphne was just what I needed to teleport away from my daily challenges and immerse myself in something familiar yet completely different.
Tank Men: The Human Story of Tanks at War, by Robert Kershaw. At some point in mid-December I accepted that I wasn’t coming home anytime soon. I had gotten over the initial shock of being thrown back into a tank full time and successfully relearned what I had previously forgotten. I guess that must be why I purchased this book for my Kindle (at some point I realized it was a lighter option than bringing multiple books). I didn’t have any expectations, and was quite surprised by how much I enjoyed it. Kershaw masterfully captures the perspective of those soldiers operating tanks in WWI and WWII, officers and grunts, British, German, and American. The book isn’t designed to be a comedy, but reading it while sitting in my own tank I couldn’t help but laugh at how in the century since the first tanks were designed the soldier experience hasn’t radically changed, nor has the culture of “tank men” who operate these dangerous machines of war.
Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s, by Jeff Pearlman. I love basketball. This was escapism at its finest and Pearlman’s sharp, witty style was a good fit for a time when I wasn’t able to read more than two to three pages without being called away to help with something.
The Parisian, by Isabella Hammad. Several years ago, one of my coworkers recommended the book and it had been sitting on my bookshelf collecting dust ever since. In February, I finally decided to give it a chance, and although I haven’t finished it yet (the return to civilian life has significantly decreased my time for pleasure reading), I was fascinated by the story of young, Western-education Palestinian man named Midhat who returns to British Mandate Palestine during the dangerous years between WWI and WWII at least in part because it represents a perspective that I am less familiar with. Hammad has taken criticism by some for her approach, but what I found realistic is her attempt to demonstrate the parallel universe’s of a single individual’s perspective versus the backdrop of significant historical events, how the building blocks of a major conflict are clearly visible and yet a person can be preoccupied with affairs of the heart. I’m looking forward to finishing it soon.
Thanks for taking the time to read. As always, I welcome your comments and questions.
Best,
Gabi
Looking forward to diving into these. Thanks for sharing!
Love this post. My son too read prolifically during his time in Gaza and elsewhere. We read Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead simultaneously.