Stones for Ibarra

Rating:
Summary: Deeply moving, expressive, and gorgeous
Review: I first read this book many years ago, but have read and reread it many times since. This story is one of those rare masterpieces that only grows in beauty with each reading. To this day I never fail to tear up just thinking about the story's heartbreaking end. I feel dreadfully sorry for those of you who could not enjoy this extremely rich and exquisite work of fiction. In my mind, this is one of the greatest American novels of the late twentieth century.

Rating:
Summary: I was deeply touched
Review: I found Stones for Ibarra to be excellent. Previous reviews have picked it apart in ways I consider missing the forest for the trees or perhaps the mine for the ore, to stretch a metaphor. I loved Doerr's poetic prose, her lack of need to explain everything to death, her desire to not be wed to stuctures imposed by others. It was simply a sweet though somewhat dark, and compelling memoir of a woman who was just on the edge of understanding, and Doerr puts us as the reader right there with her, "feeling the place" not understanding it totally. I do understand the concerns voiced about stereotyping Mexicans, but don't agree with the reveiwer from Miami. People everywhere kill, die, whore, and suffer in their lives. But there are also priests and nuns, storekeepers and miners who sacrifice for the good of others. The reveiwer sees what he/she wants. What I saw was in spirit consistent with my experience of Mexico- that there is a certain acceptance of fate, a certain reluctance to fight the tides of life which can lead to occasional disaster, or as Sara Everton says "an accident." I think few closing lines can match "Bring stones." (Maybe Norman Maclean's "I am haunted by waters") I found myself reliving the accidents of my life, and asking myself over and over to bring stones.

Rating:
Summary: I was deeply touched
Review: I found Stones for Ibarra to be excellent. Previous reviews have picked it apart in ways I consider missing the forest for the trees or perhaps the mine for the ore, to stretch a metaphor. I loved Doerr's poetic prose, her lack of need to explain everything to death, her desire to not be wed to stuctures imposed by others. It was simply a sweet though somewhat dark, and compelling memoir of a woman who was just on the edge of understanding, and Doerr puts us as the reader right there with her, "feeling the place" not understanding it totally. I do understand the concerns voiced about stereotyping Mexicans, but don't agree with the reveiwer from Miami. People everywhere kill, die, whore, and suffer in their lives. But there are also priests and nuns, storekeepers and miners who sacrifice for the good of others. The reveiwer sees what he/she wants. What I saw was in spirit consistent with my experience of Mexico- that there is a certain acceptance of fate, a certain reluctance to fight the tides of life which can lead to occasional disaster, or as Sara Everton says "an accident." I think few closing lines can match "Bring stones." (Maybe Norman Maclean's "I am haunted by waters") I found myself reliving the accidents of my life, and asking myself over and over to bring stones.

Rating:
Summary: Disappointing
Review: If your grandmother and grandfather had attempted to reopen an old copper mine in Mexico, this is exactly the sort of collection of stories your mother would have told you about the experience, exactly as she would have told the stories, piecemeal, over the years-incompletely, largely out of sequence, without any plot, without any attempt to form the narratives into structured stories, and with no character development of the main characters. The book consists mostly of stereotyped snapshots of the "cute" hopelessly stupid, alcoholic, filthy, superstitious, lazy, mentally defective, thieving, pathetic, whoring, murderous "natives" which would be considered at the very least racist if the author was not a politically correct woman. (The way you know that the author is politically correct is that there isn't the faintest whiff of disapproval of alcoholism, theft, whoring, murder, etc.-it is implied that such is simply the inherent, genetic, Mexican nature). At least Steinbeck was joking when he made fun of Mexicans, and he did so with clear admiration of the Mexican character. And yet, Stones manages to hang together and creates a vivid impression. If you think of it as a traditional novel-then it is inept and unsatisfying (and perhaps repulsive). If you think of it as more resembling poetry, or a painting, or some other art-form (like Maplethorp's crucifix in a jar of urine), then perhaps it has merit. The mine itself makes no appearance in the novel and is rarely mentioned-albeit the few mentions ring authentic.

Rating:
Summary: Outstanding work of art it took a lifetime to create
Review: Ms Doerr did not start writing until she was well into the golden years of her life, and the wait was oh-so-worth it. She has taken her experience in Mexico and written a book that makes you wonder why you live such an uncomplex life. I keep a copy in my library and revisit it annually to remind me of what great reading is supposed to feel like.

Rating:
Summary: Pleasant but not did not grip me
Review: My somewhat contrarian view is that while this book was a pleasant read, it didn't take me anywhere. I wasn't really sure whether Sara had grown by the end of the book and that was a dissappointment. The best part of the book was how the locals saw Sara and Richard with their sharing of beer bottles and feeding of stray dogs. I loved those details. I just felt disappointed at the end.

Rating:
Summary: Pleasant but not did not grip me
Review: My somewhat contrarian view is that while this book was a pleasant read, it didn't take me anywhere. I wasn't really sure whether Sara had grown by the end of the book and that was a dissappointment. The best part of the book was how the locals saw Sara and Richard with their sharing of beer bottles and feeding of stray dogs. I loved those details. I just felt disappointed at the end.

Rating:
Summary: Pause
Review: People really shouldn't assume much when they decide to read this book. Nothing can really tell you what YOUR going to find inside, because it feels more like it's up to you. You shouldn't be literal. You shouldn't want excitement. The pace is slow, but I don't think it detracts. It is something that has made me examine my life and where it stands. I am sorry for the poeple who assume about this book. It has a million different levels. It only depends which one you choose to pick.

Rating:
Summary: A big mistake
Review: Richard and Sara Everton move from a sophisticated life in San Francisco to an old adobe house in super-rural Mexico where, on some harebrained idea, they think they can make a go of it by re-opening a copper mine abandoned by Richard's grandfather. It's an idyllic dream, and there are many good moments. But from the very opening of the book, we're told Richard will die, Sara will deny their problems till the end, and they will leave Ibarra without having achieved their dreams. The range and depth of characters in the little town, the juxtaposition of one culture against another, the assimilation of the atheistic Americans into the intensely Catholic community, the gorgeous descriptions of the landscapes, and the many side stories of the myriad characters all contribute to this book's perennial popularity. One gets the sense that the author's love and affection for her characters is real.
It's a beautifully written book, and it's certainly incredible that Harriet Doerr wrote it, her first book (at least the first to be published), when she herself was already an old woman

Rating:
Summary: a flawless narrative - a minor masterpiece
Review: The comments by some of the reviewers are instructive more about themselves than about the work they review. The reviewer from Miami states that the narrative is exactly what one would one expect from such a character recounting her experiences to,let us say, her daughter. That is exactly the point of the book. The main character is not a sociologist. She simply received impressions, as most of us do, when we travel to Mexico or Greece or Italy, without either wholesale condemnation of people who live differently from middle-class Americans, nor extensive exoneration of their behavior by recourse to sociological explication of the effects of the history of exploitation and oppression. Let us understand plainly: the narrator is not the author, but a narrative voice (a character in the story) whose observations must correspond to the limitations of her concerns and her remembrances. The narrator plainly does not have any deep understanding of Mexico (she is no Octavio Paz), but that is much of the point of the story. Much of the value of the book is precisely the revelation of the disconnect between the Americans and the Mexicans - the inability to comprehend each other. If the narrator were truly to understand the Mexicans, or they her, the whole point of the book would have been lost. The reader from Seattle, on the other hand, has taken too many literature courses: she insists on a central character and a motif - preferably some kind of symbolic motif. The narrator in the story is not apt to construct her reminiscences in such a way as to revolve them about some central motif. She herself is the central character - everything is seen through her eyes and takes significance in terms of her own fate - culminating in the death of her husband and her departure from Mexico. Mexico remains unchanged. She has not the capacity, the inclination, or the will to change Mexico, or to change herself. To insist that she be different is to demand a different book. Finally, the Miami reader says that John Steinbeck was only joking: perhaps she may recall the tale of the young Mexican woman with many children who could afford only beans for her children: the American servicemen in California took pity on her and provided meat for her children. They all took deathly sick at the change in diet, and when they recovered, she found herself pregnant again. There is humor in his work, as well as in Stones for Ibarra, but it is the kind of humor that leads to redemption: the very counterpoint of mockery and denigration. Revelation of the disconnect between cultures can lead to thoughtfulness, which is the precursor of sympathetic understanding. Let us not confuse the characters with the authors, and let us pray that Steinbeck and Doerr find the readers they deserve.