Tim Chrepta Chrepta itibaren Anjanwada, Maharashtra 431705, India
The arduous journey of journalist Marika Vecera through the jungle, swamps, and mountains of Papua New Guinea to determine the verity of another journalist's (Robert Lewis) suicide forms the basis of this story of survival and redemption. Marika, a Czech immigrant to the US, has a sorrowful past. Her father was the target of a political execution and her mother descended into schizophrenia after his death. Marika was subsequently inspired by the writings of Pulitzer Prize-winning Lewis to become a journalist and enter war-torn and dangerous countries such as Angola, the Congo, and Liberia to expose the torture and suffering of others. However, she has not come to terms with her own personal suffering, which affects her ability to foster deep, sustaining relationships. Her career is successful and exciting but she is wounded and savaged by her own demons. This was my most challenging book review to write. Why? Because White Mary is a combination of spell-binding and stilted, beautiful and blemished. This is journalist Kira Salak's first novel, and maybe she just needed a peerless editor to fix the flaws. But this novel transcended its weaknesses and what remains in my memory is the ripe and horrible beauty of its prose and story. I experienced the page-turning and powerful pleasure of a 5-star book. But for the purposes of fidelity to criticism and other readers' sensibilities (who may be bothered by these flaws), I gave it a 4-star rating. Salak's dialogue was sometimes stiff and decorous. It should have bothered me, but it didn't (I will get to that). Her handling of the themes of loss, trauma, survival, and redemption; fear, love and forgiveness are structurally simplified and calculated, even predictable in its arc of unfolding. This prevented many readers from enjoying the story as a whole. I had the inverse experience, as the whole of the story enveloped me and allowed me to forgive its shortcomings. The journey and its dark heart reverberated with elements of spiritual grace. Although Seb, Marika's boyfriend, borders on one-dimensional thinness and sainthood, what lifted him from type was his Buddhist-like presence and allure that heightened his compassionate vulnerability. His characteristic platitudes were obscured by his utter humanity. As an example, Seb expresses the principle of "mudita," a Sanskrit word difficult to describe in English but closely resembling the feeling of sincere rejoicing for another's good fortune and success. It is a practice he embraces and attains and is a significantly occurring refrain for Marika's inward journey. And I felt the deep love he has for Marika as authentic. The pulsing and ongoing, almost agonizing pleasure of this narrative resides in the proverbial and elusive presence of Robert Lewis. Marika has never met Lewis, yet they are conjoined inextricably. His presence or absence, his anima, echoes throughout the story. Paradoxically, her obsession with finding Lewis overshadows her relationship with Seb and keeps her at arm's length from her past traumas, (both familial and in the field as a journalist) yet Lewis is also the key to unleashing and unlocking the walls to Marika's joy and redemption. Until Marika can determine whether Lewis is dead or alive, she is prevented from finishing her biography on him and is, more importantly, stuck in a psychic purgatory. Marika is accompanied through PNG by Tobo, a native guide of the region and a colorful counterpoint to her sensibilities. Tobo is fierce and daunting and often wry and cunning. He places the mourning necklace of his sister around Marika's neck and makes incantations throughout the journey to help protect the "wei meiri" (white mary), who he sees as spiritually broken and certain to die. Although some passages, dialogue, and philosophical insights are varnished or inflated, my ultimate and visceral experience was to bypass these flaws and melt into the unnerving and unsettling beauty of this generously humane story. A distinguished book is one that doesn't end with the last page; the vibrations hum considerably and provocatively. The White Mary is a song that soars, through the flat notes and even the off-key ones. As a whole, it is a tender, harsh, mystifying, and compelling aria of survival and love.
We use this cookbook so much that we've worn out our first copy and I've just ordered our second. It offers a whole variety of delicious recipes, albiet the beef section is a little large for us considering that we don't eat beef.