Pineapple Street, by Jenny Jackson: Rich People -- They're Just Like Us

One of my favorite moves is if I'm crossing the street, and a rich person in a six-figure luxury SUV pulls up to the stop sign, I'll slow and meander and sometimes pretend like I dropped something and generally make it clear to them that THEY HAVE TO WAIT FOR ME. It's dumb, I know. But I amuse myself thinking how annoyed this rich person must be to have to wait an extra four seconds for a plebian to walk in front of them. (About half the time, they don't even notice because they're staring at their phone.)

Anyway, all that is to say I have tough time empathizing with rich people. But that's the task Jenny Jackson has set for her readers in her debut novel, Pineapple Street. She presents us with the Stockton family, an old-money group of Brooklynites who are facing down the modern world in which being a millionaire maybe isn't as cool as it used to be. 

The story's told from the alternating perspectives of members of the family. Darley is the oldest daughter, and married to Malcolm. Darley has disavowed her trust because her husband refused to sign a prenup. So she's married for love but still lives a comfortable life due to her husband's hard work and success. Youngest daughter Georgiana is 26 and works for a non-profit that helps bring healthcare to developing countries. Between tennis with her mother and partying in Red Hook, she doesn't have too many problems -- except for the ones she begins to create for herself. And only son Cord (their names! lol) is married to Sasha, a woman from a middle-class family in Rhode Island who has never really warmed to the Stockton's blue-bloodedness (and that feeling is reciprocal!). Cord and Sasha have moved into the family's mansion on Pineapple Street at the behest of their parents, and this is just the beginning of some of the family strife. 

This is a sugary afternoon snack of a novel, not at all dissimilar from paging through US Weekly. Yes, rich people: They're just like us. Or so Jenny Jackson would like to have you believe. 

Whether or not you get along with this novel will depend on if you're convinced enough that this clan of rich people are truly different. Do they learn lessons that make you believe they'll truly do right? Does this crop of literary wealthy people who did nothing to earn their wealth, earn your literary sympathy? Do they do enough to try to be good people? 

I wasn't so sure. But I still enjoyed reading. It's quick and not super heady -- a great summer read. 

Best 3 Books of April

A chilly, rainy month is ideal reading weather, and that's definitely what we had for the most part here in Chicago. Cold, rainy weather is also ideal running weather (well, maybe not the rainy part) and so April was good for that too. As I gear up for another marathon this weekend (my 9th!), April provided two fantastic running books for motivation for getting through the tough April miles.

In addition to the two running books and the new Elizabeth McKenzie novel that's on this list below, I finished some Murakami stories I hadn't read before (Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman), I read Samantha Irby (Wow, No Thank You) for the first time, and I was nearly destroyed by a wonderful debut novel -- Hanna Halperin's I Could Live Here Forever (my review) -- about addiction that will surely wind up on my favorites of the year list. A good reading/running month, indeed. 

1. Choosing To Run, by Des Linden (with Bonnie D. Ford) -- Des is a personal hero of mine, as she is for just about every distance runner. I've gotten to meet her a few times, and she's as charming and hilarious, but also as pointed and direct about her strongly held and hard-won positions, in these pages as she is in person. 

Des IS the Boston Marathon, and the through-line for this memoir is her stunningly inspirational win at Boston 2018 in the absolute worst possible running conditions. I remember that April Monday morning like it was 10 minutes ago, scream-crying at my TV as Des cruised down Boylston, arms raised, soaked to the bone and nearly frozen solid. It was incredible. And so is this book. Boston is the angle, but she has plenty of time here to discuss her whole career, her advocacy for clean sport, her dogs and her bourbon, and so much more. 

2. The Longest Race, by Kara Goucher (with Mary Pilon) -- You know that Alberto Salazar, the disgraced leader of the Nike's vaunted Oregon Project, was dirty. But you didn't know HOW dirty and disgusting he is until Kara spills the tea in this shocking, infuriating, but ultimately inspirational, memoir. 

Even if you don't follow running, you've probably heard of Alberto Salazar. This book is Kara's account of her time with Salazar, and his junk science, odd methods, emotional and mental abuse, sexual harassment and abuse, and, of course, the doping. It was the doping scandal that made headlines and ultimately got Salazar (rightly!) banned, but when you see the whole picture -- including Nike's complicity -- it's just mind-boggling how this "project" was allowed to continue for so long. And how there haven't been further consequences. 

Kara's story makes you so mad that this could happen. But her bravery and courage are inspiring. And not for nothing this is also just an entertaining and motivating read. A good running memoir is one that makes you want to go out and pound out some miles. This one certainly accomplishes that. 

3. The Dog of the North, by Elizabeth McKenzie -- This was my first time reading McKenzie. She's great! In a word: Quirky. She's a little like Nell Zink, but maybe not quite that off-the-wall. 

This novel is about a woman named Penny who has seemingly hit rock bottom -- she's unemployed, her marriage is over, and she has to help her aging, perhaps senile grandmother get her affairs in order. This starts with Penny tricking her grandmother to leave her home so that she can remove a gun from her house. She meets her grandmother's accountant Burt, an overmatched but affable dude who lives in his office, drives a terrible van he calls The Dog of the North, and is dog-father to a Pomeranian named Kweecoats (a hilarious mispronunciation of Quixote).

Many years ago, Penny's parents mysteriously disappeared in Australia, and that hangs over her throughout the novel -- most especially when she travels to Australia with her grandfather to either try to find them, or at least make peace with the fact that they're gone.

Though forces beyond her control keep trying to sink Penny, she's somehow able to keep her chin up and keep on keepin' on. This is a great novel about how to respond to adversity. And it's really, really funny. Definitely will be reading more McKenzie!