Apples and oranges : my brother and me, lost and found

To be sure, some brothers and sisters have relationships that are easy. But oh, some relationships can be fraught. Confusing, too: How can two people share the same parents and turn out to be entirely different? Marie Brenner's brother, Carl—yin to her yang, red state to her blue state—lived in Texas and in the apple country of Washington state, cultivating his orchards, polishing his guns, and (no doubt causing their grandfather Isidor to turn in his grave) attending church, while Marie, a world-class journalist and bestselling author, led a sophisticated life among the "New York libs" her brother loathed. From their earliest days there was a gulf between them, well documented in testy letters and telling photos: "I am a textbook younger child . . . training as bête noir to my brother," Brenner writes. "He's barely six years old and has already developed the Carl Look. It's the expression that the rabbit gets in __Watership Down__ when it goes __tharn__, freezes in the light." After many years apart, a medical crisis pushed them back into each other's lives. Marie temporarily abandoned her job at __Vanity Fair__ magazine, her friends, and her husband to try to help her brother. Except that Carl fought her every step of the way. "I told you to stay away from the apple country," he barked when she showed up. And, "Don't tell anyone out here you're from New York City. They'll get the wrong idea." As usual, Marie—a reporter who has exposed big Tobacco scandals and Enron—irritated her brother and ignored his orders. She trained her formidable investigative skills on finding treatments to help her brother medically. And she dug into the past of the brilliant and contentious Brenner family, seeking in that complicated story a cure, too, for what ailed her relationship with Carl. If only they could find common ground, she reasoned, all would be well. Brothers and sisters, __Apples and Oranges__. Marie Brenner has written an extraordinary memoir—one that is heartbreakingly honest, funny and true. It's a book that even her brother could love.

To be sure, some brothers and sisters have relationships that are easy. But oh, some relationships can be fraught. Confusing, too: How can two people share the same parents and turn out to be entirely different?

Marie Brenner's brother, Carl—yin to her yang, red state to her blue state—lived in Texas and in the apple country of Washington state, cultivating his orchards, polishing his guns, and (no doubt causing their grandfather Isidor to turn in his grave) attending church, while Marie, a world-class journalist and bestselling author, led a sophisticated life among the "New York libs" her brother loathed.

From their earliest days there was a gulf between them, well documented in testy letters and telling photos: "I am a textbook younger child . . . training as bête noir to my brother," Brenner writes. "He's barely six years old and has already developed the Carl Look. It's the expression that the rabbit gets in Watership Down when it goes tharn, freezes in the light."

After many years apart, a medical crisis pushed them back into each other's lives. Marie temporarily abandoned her job at Vanity Fair magazine, her friends, and her husband to try to help her brother. Except that Carl fought her every step of the way. "I told you to stay away from the apple country," he barked when she showed up. And, "Don't tell anyone out here you're from New York City. They'll get the wrong idea."

As usual, Marie—a reporter who has exposed big Tobacco scandals and Enron—irritated her brother and ignored his orders. She trained her formidable investigative skills on finding treatments to help her brother medically. And she dug into the past of the brilliant and contentious Brenner family, seeking in that complicated story a cure, too, for what ailed her relationship with Carl. If only they could find common ground, she reasoned, all would be well.

Brothers and sisters, Apples and Oranges. Marie Brenner has written an extraordinary memoir—one that is heartbreakingly honest, funny and true. It's a book that even her brother could love.

"To be sure, some brothers and sisters have relationships that are easy. But oh, some relationships can be fraught. Confusing, too: how can two people share the same parents and turn out to be entirely different?" "Marie Brenner's brother Carl - yin to her yang, red state to her blue state - lived in Texas and in the apple country of Washington State, cultivating his orchards, polishing his guns, and (no doubt causing their grandfather Isidor to turn in his grave) attending church, while Marie, a world-class journalist and bestselling author, led a sophisticated life among the "New York libs" her brother loathed." "From their earliest days there was a gulf between them, well documented in testy letters and telling photos: "I am a textbook younger child...training for my role as bete noir to my brother Carl," Brenner writes. "He's barely six years old and has already developed the Carl Look. It's the expression that the rabbit gets in Watership Down when it goes tharn, freezes in the light."" "After many years apart, a medical crisis pushed them back into each other's lives. Marie temporarily abandoned her job at Vanity Fair magazine, her friends, and her husband to try to help her brother. Except that Carl fought her every step of the way. "Stay away from my apple farms," he barked. And, "Don't tell anyone you're from New York City. They'll get the wrong idea."" "As usual, Marie - a reporter who has exposed Big Tobacco scandals and Enron - irritated her brother and ignored his orders. She trained her formidable investigative skills on finding treatments to help her brother medically. And she dug into the past of the brilliant and contentious Brenner family, seeking in thatcomplicated story a cure, too, for what ailed her relationship with Carl. If only they could find common ground, she reasoned, all would be well." Brothers and sisters, Apples and Oranges. Marie Brenner has written a memoir - one that is heartbreakingly honest, funny, and true. It's a book that even her brother could love. What is more complicated than the relations between brother and sister? To discover a brother she hardly knew, Marie Brenner, bestselling author and renowned reporter, leaves behind her life in New York City to reconnect with her ailing sibling. Reconnect is not really the right word, however, because the two have never been compatible. Maries brother Carlyin to her yang, red state to her blue statelives in Texas and the apple country of Washington State, spending his time cultivating his apple orchards, attending church, and paying NRA dues. Meanwhile, Marie has had a successful career among the self-important lefties her brother loathes. In her attempt to care for Carl, the journalist instead finds that health problems can hardly slow down her alpha male brother. The unspoken grudges, the long-harbored frustrations, all of it bubbles up as her brother remains determined to live. In her exposs of Big Tobacco and the Enron scandal, Brenner unveiled the secret networks and simmering malevolence behind the corporate faade. Now the reporter trains her incisive eye on the complexities of family dynamics. In the end, Apples and Oranges is a book about reconciliation. Forced to face the faults and follies of their relationship, Brenner learns to speak her brothers language, and eventually the two are able to break down some of the walls. Apples and Oranges is a fearless look at families and what makes them stick together for better or for worse. A liberal Vanity Fair reporter recounts her attempt to reconnect with her conservative apple-farmer brother when the latter fell ill, an attempt that brought to the surface their disparate beliefs about politics, lifestyle choices, and priorities A liberal reporter describes the tumultuous relationship she had with her older, more conservative brother, from their rivalry as children growing up in San Antonio to her efforts to reconnect with him after he becomes ill with cancer