Tournament of Books discussion
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Tournament of Favorites
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2023 ToF Round 5: LaRose vs. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
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Jacob is, indeed, a harder character to connect with than many of the characters in LaRose. (I found many of the characters in LaRose compelling, but I never connected with the young boy who is meant to be the moral center.)
Though I'd not before read "Thousand Autumns", it turned out that when I finally did so for this tournament, I was in the right headspace for its particular gifts and themes.
For most of "Thousand Autumns", Jacob is a feckless character. But he does have two moments of courage, and those turn out to be important, if not ultimately as ennobling as we think and hope they will be. Nobility of character is to be found instead in several others in the novel whose courage (manifested not only by risk but by enormous sacrifice) sneaks up on the reader again and again, and serves to contrast them with the actions of the putative protagonist.
By the end of "Thousand Autumns", it is clear, even to Jacob, what the difference is, and I found that denouement both sad and quietly eloquent.





Your two favorites! Worst case scenario for the judge!!!!

Your two favorites! Worst case scenario for the judge!!!!"
Can't be helped, Kari, can't be helped. :D

Reading both of these cemented their place on the list of authors to read everything they write. (Such an awkward sentence to write after 2 beers.) So, cheers!🍻
At this moment, I think LaRose is the book I would most likely reread. 👏

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When I looked at where I was on the bracket, I was thrilled! I "knew" immediately that Circe was going to win its round (and that was great, I had already read and loved that book) and I had heard that Tell the Wolves I’m Gone was a top vote-getter to even qualify for this tournament, so I went ahead and read that in preparation. Imagine my surprise to be judging these two books instead!
I started with LaRose because I’d read some Louise Erdrich before, and I was very intimidated by the idea of David Mitchell. As a parent myself, LaRose certainly pushed me to my limits, both with the tragic accidental death of Dusty and the decision to let the neighbors raise LaRose in Dusty’s place.
LaRose also came at an interesting time for me. After having been a librarian for 19 years, I recently became a minister. The questions about guilt and atonement at the center of LaRose were, of course, fascinating to me. How does one atone for accidental wrongdoing? Can a son take on the sins of another? Can he literally stand in the place of someone who has been killed? Can the character of LaRose then also prevent further tragedy? I appreciated the way that Erdrich deconstructed Christian substitutionary atonement theology, making a case that, like Dusty, Jesus’ death had more to do with the systems of inequality that were in place and the fallibility of humans than a divine need for blood. Life is what matters, not death. The persistence of the community in the face of those who would obliterate them is powerfully embodied by LaRose, who carries on despite the weight of the tragedy around and within him.
In LaRose, (the book and the character) Erdrich holds the past and the present together in a way that convinced me as the reader that they were co-existing. She seemed to be saying that we should not separate the past, present and future, but that we could hold them together, dwelling in our bodies in ways we do not always understand.
As I said, I was intimidated to read David Mitchell. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is my first Mitchell. That’s right, I have never read Cloud Atlas! I had heard that it might take a while for the story to get going, and I did find that to be the case. Mitchell carefully set the scene in the first section, but I was missing the drive and energy to keep me invested in the story. I learned a lot of history and noted that the book felt both precise and meandering. I did not expect that the main energy that I would find in the story would be in the second section, in the monastery and in the character of Orito.
It was in the second section that I found myself absorbed, both with the question of the monastery and with Orito’s resistance to its abuses. I found in her a compelling narrator that I did not find in the first section, especially in the character of Jacob. Here, too, there is a sense of sacrifice, as Orito literally gives up her freedom because she is worried about the other women. While it worked for the story and for her role as a midwife, I did not find it to be believable given the efforts she had made to find a way out.
I searched online to see if there were any Asian critiques of the book, particularly those written by women. On the one hand, there is no question that Mitchell has done mountains of research. On the other hand, I wondered how Asian women might have felt about his portrayal of the women in the story, which I as a white woman could not answer. Did the book slip into the tropes of white men objectifying Asian women? I remain unsure. Was it problematic to paint the Japanese characters as having extreme religious practices that mirrored The Handmaid’s Tale? Again, I remain unsure.
When I agreed to be a judge, I feared having to read a book like this that I simply did not connect with, because I know (all too well) how frustrating it is to love a book and have a judge dismiss it because they did not connect with it. Mitchell’s work was technically impressive, but I ultimately left the book both admiring its technical prowess and with a sense of unease about its portrayals.
Because I have to choose, the winner for me in this round is LaRose. It is so tempting to build stories that paint suffering as redemptive, but instead Erdrich built a community that persevered through tragedy and was driven by their own sense of self. I was grateful to be able to witness it.