seeking my source

Gain, by Richard Powers

2012-02-12T13:00:00.000-08:00

In reading this book, I learned more than I ever dreamed I'd want to know about several subjects: soap-making, and the chemical evolution of cleaning products of every kind; the history of marketing; the moment-by-moment reality of chemotherapy; the history of the financial markets in America since their conception; an awful lot about cancer and what causes it and how it takes hold; and a whole lot of other stuff that now escapes me. Such erudition! I am stunned, impressed, and educated.

This book alternates between two stories. The first is that of the Clare family: Three brothers start a candle and soap company in mid-19th century Boston. Their little experiment evolves into a multi-national chemical company, with various Clares and others paving history with processes both chemical and financial. Along the way they play an integral part in developing the concept of modern marketing.

The parallel story is of Laura Brody, mild-mannered real estate agent in Lacewood, IL, home of Clare International HQ. Laura has moved past her divorce and is managing her teen aged kids, ex-husband and new career admirably. Her story gives a personal face to the unintended consequences of industry and supposed progress.

The incredible thing about this book? It was fascinating. I don't read much non-fiction; I need a story to make facts interesting. I quite willingly devoured pages of chemistry, economic theory and history in this novel, and never got bored. Richard Powers has the rare ability to transmit his passion for science through language, and to make any subject he tackles interesting. I'm willing to bet that he's not only the smartest guy in any room he inhabits, but also has a better understanding of art, and its intersection with both physical and social science. This is, after all, the basis of humanity, but most of us don't embody it as fully as Powers.

Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman

2012-02-10T21:37:00.000-08:00

Another terrific Neil Gaiman book - is there any other kind? Anansi Boys is set in the same territory as American Gods, the nexus of humanity and godliness. In this case, the god in question thinks he is human, and only slowly comes to understand that his family is not just mildly dysfunctional, but is downright otherworldly.

Gaiman's ability to take on the voice of a character so decidedly unlike himself is uncanny. I understand that that is the job of the novelist, but still. The atmosphere ranges from the mundane to the bizarre, and I could always picture myself in the scene. There's something Everyman about Fat Charlie, which makes his realization of his godliness very satisfying.

The clumsy, always slightly-behind-the-curve child of a charmed ne'er-do-well, Charlie has no interest in revisiting his childhood home after his father's death. It turns out that some childhood fears are well-deserved; the frightening neighborhood ladies of his youth are in fact witches of a sort. As the layers slowly peel away, Fat Charlie is dragged into the realization that what he thought were dreams are real, and that he has a family unlike any other.

One of the things Neil Gaiman does really well is interweave the supernatural with the every day. The more fantastical elements of the story are counterbalanced with reality: difficult boss, demanding girlfriend. The result is a hero who provokes your frustration, but who you can't help rooting for.

Plays Well With Others, by Alan Gurganus

2012-01-31T22:28:00.000-08:00

This is a narrator who needs Valium. The frenetic pace of his prose matches that of the striving, hard-scrabble, tumbling lives of the friends he loves so fiercely. In the club world of 1980's New York there are a lot of drugs going around, but tranquilizers are not among them.

An account of the burgeoning gay arts scene, this book is a paean to the young men who briefly lived and died, mothlike, during an epidemic that rivaled the Black Plague. Hartley Mims is an exile, escaped from his homophobic southern roots to the mecca of artists, performers, scholars, and egotists. He and his friends are close in a way that may be possible only for expats who never even felt at home at home. Their passion for one another is matched only by their competition to be the best artist, the most beloved, the first at everything. Hartley misses first by a hair, and suffers from the great good luck of being the last. Happy, and wondering if that's a decent substitute for genius.

This book made me a little bit tired with its relentless pace, but I liked it a lot. It's fun to read a voice that's so entirely unlike your own. I could never keep up with the young Hartley and his muses, but I wouldn't mind hanging out with the middle-aged version.

Mink River, by Brian Doyle

2012-01-14T09:01:00.000-08:00

Did you ever want to live in Cicely, Alaska? The town, the setting for the TV series Northern Exposure, was full of quirky individuals of vastly different types who somehow all came together to give their town and one another an incredible sense of community. Neawanaka, Oregon is just this kind of town. The inhabitants are mostly scraping by, some with luck and joy, others in more dire circumstances.

The dozen characters we get to know intimately (among them a jaded bar owner, an opera-loving police officer, and a beloved sculptress), weave around one another in a way that is possible only in small towns. Ultimately there is something safe and lovely about being known by everyone you encounter, even if it means you are forever categorized by your parent's bad behavior, loose grasp on reality, or saintliness.

Mink River is almost stream of consciousness, with the dialogue unindicated by anything as distracting as quotation marks. Although that can be hard to follow, in this case it mostly isn't. I liked that the difference between a character's thoughts and spoken words was sometimes hard to distinguish. There are a lot of people doing a lot of heavy thinking in this book, though they go about their lives as though they were unburdened by philosophy.

The touch of magical realism the author injects is in keeping with the slightly otherworldy sense of the place and people. In a town where the Department of Public Works considers its main objective to be the happiness of the inhabitants, a talking crow is no big thing. There's a gentle balance of gritty realism and fanciful possibility that keeps this book both grounded and delightful.

Finally, Brian Doyle's lovely use of language. There is a lot of old world in the flow of words across the page; Irish and Native American DNA are intertwined in what is essentially a long, unmetered ballad. I love an author who will create the word he needs if it doesn't already exist.

In the end, the only real problem I had with Mink River was keeping some of the characters straight. The author has a penchant for nicknames and descriptors, which can take a little while to sort out. The main issue for me, however, was that I kept mixing up the two main couples in the story, one the daughter and husband of the other. These relationships were so similar that I'd forget if I was encountering the older or the younger generation. Call me a cynic, but it is, sadly, hard for me to believe in such marital bliss striking the same spot twice.

November

2011-12-06T21:33:00.000-08:00

November has caught me reading several books at a time, which is always tricky - once I divert my attention it's hard to say whether it will ever return.

I started An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England: A Novel, by Brock Clark, but only got through about half. The tone charmed me at first, but soon grated. He's sort of a modern-day Vonnegut, and his novel would benefit from Vonnegut-like brevity.

I'm mid-way through Chang and Eng, by Darin Strauss, which I'm enjoying but seem to have put down for a little while. More about that one in the future.

We the Animals, by Justin Torres, is a first novel and a truly wonderful book, which always bodes well for the future. It's very short, which lets you gulp it down in a sitting or two; just the way it should be experienced. This story of the youngest of three bear-cub brothers and their very young parents is emotionally charged, to say the least. It's one of those very visceral novels, with no real dialogue, and a compelling immediacy. Highly recommended. It really deserves a post of its own, but may not get one.

I read two kid's books this month:

The Liberation of Gabriel King, by K.L. Going, is a good story, well-told, about a fearful boy and his best friend in the just-starting-to-segregate South of the 60's.

I Am the Ice Worm, by Maryann Easly was so-so; interestingly set in the Arctic, but spotty in terms of plot and character. My book-obsessed 10-year-old liked it.

Now we're into December, and I'm reading yet another great book. Stay tuned...

My Lousiana Sky, by Kimberly Willi Holt

2011-10-28T11:38:00.000-07:00

This is the kind of book I devoured by the dozen when I was a middle-schooler. On the young end of the YA spectrum, it features a misunderstood heroine on the brink of adolescence, struggling with issues that are just a little harder than average.

This charming novel has an interesting twist on the outcast theme: 12-year-old Tiger's parents are what is currently called developmentally disabled. In 1957, when the book takes place, they were referred to as retarded, or worse. When Tiger's grandmother dies, she's invited to move to the city to live with her glamorous aunt. But there's the question of who will take care of her parents, especially now that her grief-stricken mother refuses to bathe or leave the house.

Tiger is a red-headed tomboy, which is probably reason enough for her to be ignored by the popular girls. Add her embarrassing parents, and you can just imagine the catty comments. Her mother, however, is sweet and kind, her father hard-working and gentle. This is a classic don't-judge-a-book-by-its-cover story, with the good and pure ultimately winning out over the mean and incompetent. Oh, that life could mirror formulaic children's literature!

I'd recommend this to girls in the 10-13 age group. It's thought-provoking in a quick-read kind of way, with a very satisfying it's-okay-to-be-yourself message.

The Condition, by Jennifer Haigh

2011-10-25T09:06:00.000-07:00

This is possibly the most unredemptive book I've read this year. I am of the general belief that people don't intrinsically change, that they really embody their original characters until the end. But still. Jeez. This family is completely mummified; none of them are going to change an iota over the next several millenia.

Okay, in fact there are a few moments of almost enlightenment, but they don't seem to help the enlightenees in any noticeable way. Lifelong grudges and misunderstandings are left intact, feelings of helplessness and inadequacy persist.

And the attitude about aging! Ms. Haigh was born 3 years after me, putting her at 43. Here is the term she uses to describe the older generation of the family, now ensconced in their late 50's: aged. And then there's this, from a character just turned 60:

Was this old age, then: the end of all wanting? ... Whatever he'd desired from life had
been gotten, or not; his wishes satisfied, or not. His wishes - Paulette's too - were exhausted.

It's not that this book is bad; it's pretty well-written, and is an interesting examination of how a family can break down under a combination of bad news and rigid personalities. Ultimately, my issue with the book is that I didn't really like any of the characters. I felt empathy for all of them, and I rooted for each one as they seemed on the verge of breaking away from their iron-clad trajectories. But I'd hate to be trapped in the back seat with any one of them.

Ninth Ward, by Jewell Parker Rhodes

2011-10-19T21:06:00.000-07:00

This book was recommended to me by my thirteen year old daughter, possibly because she wanted help with the paper she had to write about it. It's a very charming story that touches on some difficult topics. It's girl power at its finest, which I always like.

Lanesha is an orphan being raised by the elderly midwife who birthed her moments before her teen aged mother died. Mama Yaya is a seer, and an equally feared and revered caretaker of the entire neighborhood. Lanesha is an outsider, an odd, brainy, watchful girl who has never had a friend. As Hurricane Katrina threatens the Gulf Coast, her life becomes as tumultuous as the approaching storm. This is a story about overcoming your ideas about your place in the world, as well as celebrating your own untapped strength.

My daughter didn't like the ending, which does rather leave you guessing about the ultimate fate of both Lanesha and her new friends. I kind of liked it, because the aftermath of heroics, like storms, seems a lot less interesting than the acts of bravery themselves. I finished the book with the feeling that Lanesha will manage pretty much anything that comes her way.

Chilling satellite images of Hurricane Katrina.

Room, by Emma Donoghue

2011-10-18T14:03:00.000-07:00

For a long time I was scared to read this book. The premise seemed so horrifying that I couldn't bear to open it, despite its fabulous reviews. I'm so glad I changed my mind.

I do a fair amount of reading, and I am constantly amazed by authors who reimagine the world in totally new ways. This is a family story unlike any I have ever read; despite the odd circumstances, Emma Donoghue tells of a an existence that is as measured and predictable as any other. She gets at the truth of our relationships to one another, and at the broad range of reactions to trauma among different people.

The basic story is that of Jack and Ma. They live in an 11'x11' room. Ma has been held prisoner here for seven years, since the age of nineteen, but to Jack, Room is the world. It's filled with all the things they want and need, and the rest of the world is relegated to to being "only tv." The story is told by Jack, and opens on his fifth birthday. So here we have two really incredible authorial feats: making this situation seem believable, and telling a complex story using the diction of a pretty literate five year old. Emma Donoghue pulls it off on both counts.

I really love the manner in which the author tracks reactions to this odd and terrible situation. Ma is an exemplary parent, whose ability to create a very normal life for her child, despite their situation, is admirable. She's damaged, though; how could she avoid it? As the story progresses, we see the ripple effect of the one incredible central fact of the story, namely that a monster trapped a child, then that child's child, in a tiny room, indefinitely.

I absolutley refuse to spoil a moment of this book for any future readers, so I will just tell you to read it, read it, read it. You will be amazed.

This is a 3D image of Room, which will give you an idea of the scope of Jack and Ma's world. Wow. Tiny. Here is a short interview with the author, in which she explains how she created Jack, and gave him his extraordinary voice.

The Hand That First Held Mine, by Maggie O'Farrell

2011-10-02T19:22:00.000-07:00

In a recent post I described new parenthood as interesting only to the parents themselves. How wrong I was! This author describes new motherhood in minute detail, and it is absolutely fascinating. This may be because these scenes are interspersed with so many other slivers of life. To me, the difficult thing about having an infant, aside from the utter lack of sleep, is that it is so unrelenting in its repetition. Change, feed, pat, rock, feed, change, rock... Maggie O'Farrell manages to pull out specific moments, while conveying the overwhelming whole.

Elina can't quite remember how her baby got from inside her to next to her; a traumatic birth has left her with a sense of unreality that will be familiar to anyone suffering sleep deprivation, but even more so. As she tries to navigate her new situation she is careful not to alarm her boyfriend, Ted. He, in turn, is hiding the confusion and apprehension he is feeling as a result of a deluge of near-memories of his childhood.

Their story is told in parallel with that of Lexie, a vivid character from an earlier generation. The two stories are seemingly unrelated, but of course a connection eventually reveals itself.

I loved this book from the opening. I don't remember hearing anything about it, I just found it while browsing at the library. Which reminds me of how enjoyable it is to read a book with no preconceptions. It seems especially appropriate in this case, as the characters move in seemingly random loops and arcs.

There is one oddly unreal character wandering the halls of this book. He stands in stark contrast to the others, who are so carefully drawn. A connector, rather than a person. This flaw did not, however, dull my enjoyment of this book. I really had a hard time putting it down, and was riveted right up to the end. The author uses lots of color and visual detail, which stuck in my mind long after I finished reading. AN author I'll definitely revisit.

Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You, by Peter Cameron

2011-10-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

No one uses language the way Peter Cameron does. The precision of every word is a luxury not often experienced in modern literature. In this book, the juxtaposition of perfect grammar and an astute vocabulary emanating from the mouth of a disaffected eighteen year old boy is, well, affecting. What is most interesting is the subtle way this character's diction changes over the course of the novel. As he begins to accept his unhappiness and descend, slowly, from his aerie of isolation, his use of language loosens up ever so slightly. By the end he is far from slinging around slang, but he sounds more like a resident of the 21st century than the 19th.

This is one of those books that almost makes me wish I'd grown up in New York City. There is something about that experience that is hard to fully imagine, as opposed, say, to growing up on a farm in Appalachia. This is also foreign to me, but it's somehow easier for me to mentally put myself there. A childhood in Manhattan will forever be something I don't want, but want to know.

As for what happens in this book: James is eighteen, spending the summer before his freshman year (he's going to Brown) working at his mother's art gallery. His mother is recovering from her day-long third marriage. His father is preparing for his first bout of cosmetic surgery. His sister, who attends Barnard, is having an affair with a married professor of linguistics. His therapist is dedicated to making him initiate their conversations. His only friend, John, is trolling online for men when the gallery is empty, which is most of the time. This is the backdrop of James' life, a collection of extremely intelligent, outwardly successful urbanites, none of whom seem particularly happy.

The one bright spot in James' life is his grandmother, keeping her house in the affluent suburbs spotless as she embodies a more graceful era. She may provide the impetus for her grandson's lone hobby: endless online searches for beautiful, inexpensive houses in the Midwest.

There isn't a lot of action in this book. There are a couple of seminal events, one told in flashback, and there is a lot of self-examination. All of which is engrossing, because it is so well-written, and the main character is endlessly sympathetic and charming. Even when he's being kind of a self-absorbed smart alec. I liked this book almost as much as I liked The City of Your Final Destination, which I recommend with stars in my eyes. And clearly Peter Cameron should win some sort of literary prize for the best titles.

Slam, by Nick Hornby

2011-09-08T20:58:00.000-07:00

One wonders if Nick Hornby has a son just cresting adolescence...

This is a cautionary tale, though one which recognizes that no amount of warning, or even personal experience, can keep a teenager from making a life-changingly stupid mistake. That knowledge will, of course, never keep adults from trying to protect their children. Stop here if you can't abide spoilers; there is no way to talk about this book without revealing the big event in its midst.

Sam's mother was sixteen when he was born. Now thirty-two, she likes to compare herself, age wise, with celebrities (four years younger than Jennifer Aniston, three years older than David Beckham). They're doing pretty well, but Sam is well aware that his appearance threw a spanner in his mother's plans. Or perhaps just kept her from making any. But teens will be teens, and soon Sam finds himself in love. And soon enough, his girlfriend finds herself pregnant. And history repeats itself.

The greatest thing about this book is Sam's voice. He has a couple of moments of great maturity and insight, but primarily he's a dumb kid, more interested in skateboarding than anything that could be called a future. Like most of Hornby's heroes, he's a fairly self-absorbed, not particularly self-aware guy who vaguely wonders why the women in his life are making all the rules. He's trying to do the right thing, but it is painfully obvious that he is a child himself. I can't quite imagine what it would be like to face the prospect of teenage fatherhood, but this seems to me to be a pretty dead-on description.

There's a little class warfare thrown into the book for good measure: Sam has knocked up the daughter of a pair of university professors, who squarely blame him for dragging her into the ghetto of teen pregnancy. No one outside of the families seems exceptionally surprised or upset about the situation; in fact the high school administration are thrilled to try our their new teen mother program.

A couple of unusual plot devices keep the story moving in a zig-zag - it's not quite clear where its going to end up. The ending is a little anticlimactic, as is childbirth. After all of that preparation and anxiety, taking care of an infant is exhausting drudgery, if physically enlightening and emotionally stratospheric. Although it's fascinating to live through, it's a little less interesting to read about.

Overall, very good, an easy page-turner, an interesting perspective on a situation we all hope we don't have to get experience first, or even second-hand.

The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin

2011-08-28T21:44:00.000-07:00

Do you ever worry about not being happy enough? Gretchen Rubin wasn't especially unhappy, but she thought that maybe she could do better. So she made a lot of lists, and charts, and amassed a ton of books, and set about upping her happiness quotient.

I love that she was so task-oriented in tackling this project: maybe more people would experience greater happiness if they stopped thinking about it and just attacked the problem head-on! Super un-Buddhist, I know, but very American. I'm willing to bet that most of us don't have the kind of energy and single-minded focus that Ms. Rubin does, so it's nice that she's done a lot of the work already.

The book is divided into months; each month is devoted to a different area of life. January is all about finding more energy, since a year-long happiness project is sort of a marathon. Other months include improving her (already pretty great) marriage, becoming a better parent, learning new skills; the list goes on. Each month she sets herself a series of tasks to help accomplish her goals. You can see the straight-A law student in Gretchen; she's got axioms, a bibliography, theses, proofs, conclusions. She's even got an extremely comprehensive website devoted to the project, with a whole toolkit you can use to blaze your own trail to happiness. What this woman gets done before breakfast every day boggles the mind.

Here are a few of the things the author learned from her experiences that ring true to me - and I only had to spend a few days reading to glean them!

1. You like what you like, and it won't make you remotely happy to spend your time doing things you wish you liked.

2. Thinking about being happy leads to being... happy.

3. Acting happy makes life more bearable, even when it isn't actually enjoyable.

4. All that crap you tell your kids really is true: if you don't have anything nice to say, shut the hell up; you don't have to like it, you just have to do it without complaining; you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar (okay, no one really uses this old chestnut any more, but it sounds better than the way we currently express this idea).

Here is another thing I really liked about this book: The author is very happy to admit to her own shortcomings. This keeps the reader from feeling envious of her and her happiness. I mean, who wouldn't like to have an entire year to devote to being happy? It's hard not to feel a little jealous of a woman who seems to have it all, and then gets to devote her life to being happier. Although the project does, in her estimation, increase her levels of joy and fulfillment, she's not completely transformed into an incontestably amazing wife and mother with a perfect yoga body and unshakable inner peace. She still has bad days, and bad habits. She is happier, because she's concentrating on being happier, which kind of indicates that a modicum of effort can have a real and positive affect. Even if you have to work at a real job.

Finally, and most importantly to me, how does this woman manage to read so many books? I know it's part of her job, but still, the rate at which she plows through them is incredible, and enviable. My very own happiness project might easily be derailed by giving in to the desire to do nothing but sit around reading all day.

Visit The Happiness Project website for lots of ideas about bettering your life.

Skippy Dies, by Paul Murray

2011-08-16T19:45:00.000-07:00

The title says it all....

Well, not really, but you've got to love an author who puts the main event right there on the cover. It's as though Paul Murray just wants to be clear, right up front, that this is what is going to happen. It won't be the end of the story, but it will be a very important factor, and we might as well just get it out there on the table from the outset.

This book is much longer than I realized, being printed on extremely thin paper, and set in very small print. My copy is 660 pages. In this respect it is physically and thematically similar: the story doesn't seem as though it is going to touch on quite so many truths, from quite so many different angles.

To wit: Seabrook is a traditional Irish Catholic boys' school, running full frontal into the 21st century. There is a varied cast of characters: a disappointed futures-trader-turned-history teacher, a boy genius, an altruistic priest, a beautiful girl, a thug, an ambitious administrator, a swimming coach, and many others, all, it seems, with secrets. And of course there's Skippy, who has at least two gigantic secrets.

The story takes place over the course of an academic year. People fall in love, people cheat, restrain themselves, plan clandestine scientific explorations, sneak into the neighboring girls' school, deal and take drugs - the usual school stuff. There is complicated science, and crass pornography, and 19th century poetry. And somehow it all ties in, connects, reflects endlessly.

The most amazing thing about this book is how deeply the reader falls into the lives of the characters. There is a metaphorical hall of mirrors at Seabrook, with each succeeding generation experiencing the same epiphanies, and false starts. They're coming at life from from different angles, but somehow it's all the same. They're trapped in that hall, inevitably bumping into their distorted reflections, and mistaking them for reality. The themes of impotence, regret and futility are wound around one another, always present but never obvious. Most of the inhabitants of Seabrook are adolecents, and they have that terrible and misguided sense that what is happening at any one moment is the truth.

Did I mention that this book is also really funny? It is. And despite the fact that it took me way longer than I had imagined to get to the last page, I was kind of heartbroken at having to finish. The word I keep thinking of is engaging; the characters are just barely eccentric, the dialogue is always spot-on and hilarious, the many little subplots and interstices and wild imaginings hold your attention just perfectly.One of my very favorite books of the year, thus far.

You can hear all about Paul Murray's life, writing and literary tastes in the Powell's interview.

Jess Walter reviews Paul Murray. What's (slightly) better than reading a great book? Reading another's author's take on it.

Half a Life, by Darin Strauss

2011-08-12T08:18:00.000-07:00

I first heard Darin Strauss on This American Life, telling this story. I found it so intensely moving that I listened to it again in its entirety. In short: at the age of 18 Darin hit and killed a 16 year old girl, she on a bike, he in a car. No one blames him, it wasn't his fault. This, of course, hasn't stopped him from feeling guilty, and feeling guilty about feeling guilty, for half his life.

The accident itself was not so very huge - the car didn't suffer any damage past a cracked windshield, and none of its occupants were hurt. Despite the sad outcome, it's the kind of event that you'd read about and then pretty quickly forget. Unless, of course, you happen to be the one in the driver's seat. In which case it colors everything you do for years, maybe forever.

Strauss says in this book that had this episode never occurred, he may not have become a writer. Which is hard to imagine. I kept thinking that another, less introspective person might not have spent so very much time obsessing over his every reaction to the pivotal event in his life; he's not sad enough, he's selfishly sad, he's not demonstrative enough, he's faking it. This is probably naive of me. Probably the truth is really that not everyone in this situation would do such a good job of describing his feelings.
Somewhere in the midst of the story, I realized that this book is not a memoir of Darin Strauss' whole life, but more a very close look at the lens through which he's lived his life. He doesn't tell us about the many times he didn't think about Celine, because that's not the point of this story.

It's hard to imagine living with the weight of having accidentally taken some one's life. This small book serves as a reminder that life can change on a dime; a moment can stretch into eternity. I really recommend listening to Darin tell the story, here.

Another NPR book list!

2011-08-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucker for book lists. I can't stop myself from browsing them, admittedly in part to see how many of the titles I've read. NPR just published another one of their readers' choice lists: Top 100 Science-Fiction, Fantasy Books. I was surprised to find that I've read 25 or so - depending on whether you count a couple of series I've abandoned after a book or two. This isn't really what I think of as my genre, but it does include books I wouldn't have thought to put in this category, like Watership Down, The Time Traveler's Wife, and The Handmaid's Tale. I won't get into a discussion of just what constitutes fantasy, because I think that subject has been exhaustively argued by more passionate fans already. It just makes me happy to pretend that I have eclectic taste, after all.

Juliet, Naked, by Nick Hornby

2011-07-23T10:48:00.000-07:00

I love Nick Hornby. I will read anything by Nick Hornby. This, I must admit, is not my favorite of his novels. Luckily, even a mediocre Nick Hornby book is still pretty good.

Duncan is obsessed with Tucker Crowe, a singer-songwriter who turned his back on the world in the 80's, while on tour to publicize his biggest hit. Annie has been Duncan's default girlfriend ever since they both moved to a depressing seaside town where nothing much happens. When a new Tucker Crowe recording turns up, Duncan, Annie and Tucker all confront the limbo they've been trapped in for the past 15 years, with varying results.

Nick Hornby is really great at this kind of writing. He writes women sympathetically; his men are openly flawed. Music is generally the backdrop, and often a kid appears to keep everyone focused. This book has all of these elements, plus a couple of difficult girlfriends to keep the ball rolling.

One thing I missed in this novel was the soundtrack. Tucker Crowe is fictional, and while his genre of music is easy to classify, I couldn't hear his music in my head, since, well, it doesn't really exist. I'm used to a background of hits from my youth accompanying Hornby's novels, and I couldn't quite find it.

The basic idea of this book is a good one - Annie strikes up a relationship with her boyfriend's idol, unbalancing the staid balance of everyone's lives. We get to see how obsession taints its object, how losing your convictions leads to waste of all kinds, why regrets are useless. Really, all the elements of a very satisfying novel. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite come together the way I would have wished. It seems just a little contrived, a little too simple. This could be a summer movie; a romantic comedy, which I might be enticed to see if the stars were of the Cusak/Downey, Jr. variety. There's even a great role for Jack Black. Nick Hornby has had great luck in having his books made into really good movies; maybe we'll see this one on the big screen. It will gain a much bigger audience, have a really good soundtrack, and no one will be bothered by its predictability.

My next Hornby book: 31 Songs, a collections of essays about the songs that have changed his life.

Hiatus!

2011-07-15T09:21:00.000-07:00

I'm on a little sabbatical. Here's what I've been reading over the past few weeks:

This book is great - all that hype is really valid. Most prolific and interesting use of colons I have encountered in a novel.

I'd give this one a B. The setting, in Labrador, is an interesting twist on this story of a child who is born a true hermaphrodite. There are a few too many predictable elements, but overall an interesting and nicely written book.

I don't know why I ever bother with crime fiction. This book has an interesting theme: bullying and its extreme consequences. I don't think I learned anything new about the subject, and there wasn't really a conclusion to the story, satisfying or otherwise.

I disliked the last Tim O'Brien book I read, so I returned to this classic to remember how great he is. The war in Vietnam is the backdrop for these connected stories. If you haven't read it, I encourage you to do it now. There is some heartbreak, but these stories are about people, not military maneuvers; it's a war book for the civilian.

The Keep, by Jennifer Egan

2011-06-20T22:21:00.000-07:00

This novel is a little bit gothic, and a little bit rock and roll. It is full of rabbit holes and dramatic shifts of perception. There's a ghost story, some romance, life-threatening adventure, childhood trauma, and deep dark, secrets. In short, it's got just about everything crammed into it, and yet it flows along smoothly, and the shocking surprises seem utterly plausible. Very impressive.

Danny, a wannabe New York player, finds himself scaling the walls of a castle somewhere in the no-man's land between Austria, Germany and the Czech Republic - fairy tale land. His cousin is trying to create an experiential vacation spot for tourists seeking inner peace. Or something. There's a traumatic childhood secret binding and repelling these two, and the situation at the castle is fraught with interpersonal dysfunction and possibly a little supernatural shenanigans. I hesitate to say much else, because the twists and turns should really be experienced with the sudden intensity that comes from complete ignorance. There is a second simultaneous story in the novel, about a prison inmate and his writing teacher; I wouldn't call it subplot, exactly, more a concurrent reality.

Suffice to say the complete story is told from the points of view of several different characters. These perspectives are different enough to really pretzel your mind, in a way I found most satisfying. In the end there are several unanswered questions; in fact, the whole narrative seems to be about opening one door after another, wandering down hallways, becoming intrigued more with the path than the destination. There is also an underlying theme of conectedness: Danny, who relies on his digital connections to feel any sense of self, is cut off from the outside world the moment he steps inside the castle grounds. Ray, the lifer, is cut off from the self he left outside the prison walls. Questions about the nature of reality, and communication, and maintaining personal strongholds are intertwined in a manner that makes (this) reader wonder if she has any idea what these things mean at all.

There's a lot going on in this book, much of it funny, some of it heartbreaking, all of it written with a vividness that makes it seem immediate and real. There's so much story telling going on, you might fail to notice that it's written very, very well.

Here's an interview Jennifer Egan did with the editor of the New York Times Book Review - no spoilers, and she's enviously articulate.

This Is Not the Story You Think It Is..., by Laura Munson

2011-06-05T16:25:00.000-07:00

This book captivated me. It's so interesting to get inside some one else's head, and hear the details of their thoughts and feelings during an especially fraught and complicated time in their lives. And then to have it edited. Because honestly, although we'll put up with repetition and incomplete sentences and poor timing from our friends when they need us, it's really more interesting to have the clean, thoughtful version.

Laura Munson's husband of twenty years, father to their two children, tells her one day that he no longer loves her, and wants out of their marriage. She responds that she doesn't buy it. She determinedly gives him time and space to consider what he might be giving up, and refuses to react with anger or recriminations. She doesn't tell many people what they are going through over the course of a very long summer, partly because not many people have much patience for a guy who stays out all night and blows off holiday weekends with his kids.

I admire Laura Munson for her clarity of vision, and for the strength of her convictions. I'm inclined to agree with her assessment of her situation, although I don't think that I could have kept my anger and fear contained as she did all those months. This book is at its heart the story of how Munson deals with her own emotions. Her husband's crisis is an arena in which she can practice intentionality. She is constantly mindful of her actions, and refuses to live her life in reaction to events beyond her control. Impressive!

As a single mother, I was a little put off by the author's assertion that if her husband moved out, her children would automatically suffer from abandonment issues, and grow up to have dysfunctional relationships. Ideally, children live in big happy families in which everyone supports one another and nobody ever leaves. But strong, well-adjusted people can suffer greater trauma than divorce and go on to lead pretty happy lives, can even, I've heard, have long and happy relationships. And people who grow up with caring, happy, ever-married parents who stay together for life can end up with lots of relationship issues. Having a mother like Laura Munson probably leads to incredible self-awareness; her children are lucky.

I enjoyed the shared diary format of the book, which invites the reader to really share the experiences as they unfold. There are a lot of great truths in this story of the type that are explored in self-help books, but I for one am more likely to take these lessons to heart because they are told with such immediacy and passion. This woman is very clear about her own shortcomings; if she can do it, I can do it to, right?

In the end, I don't think Laura Munson and I would be likely to be friends in real life. I say this not to be snarky. In fact, I admire her more because of it. It's one thing to want to emulate the person you'd most like to spend time with, and to love her book. It's another to want to emulate someone you think you might find a little bit annoying, and to still love her book.

War Dances, by Sherman Alexie

2011-05-29T09:14:00.000-07:00

I think I would be a better person if I spent a little time in Sherman Alexie's presence every day. He's smart and funny and reasonable and passionate. And he's good at taking a stand. I have really enjoyed everything I've read of his, including many interviews. Here is a very funny clip of him talking to Steven Colbert about why he won't allow any of his work to be sold electronically.

Some of the things I love about this book:

It is a perfectly balanced collection of prose and poetry. Everyone likes poetry, right, but how many of us can manage a whole book of it? Much better to have it mixed in with good old-fashioned prose.

It is always hard to tell whether these stories are autobiographical, fictional, or a combination of the two. For some reason this makes them all seem very real and very true. And it's not at all distracting, as I would have expected. Instead of wondering which parts are the author, and which parts are imagined, I find myself thinking that these are the thoughts and actions of a real person in a real situation.

The people in this book are all flawed, and are all exactly the kind of people I would like to hang out with. Alexie's characters all share an authenticity that is rare and delicate. I've always wondered how one would invent a person and make her true to herself; half the time I don't know how I'm going to feel about something, so how on earth would I know how my fictional character would feel? Apparently Sherman Alexie does not have this problem.

This is a quick read. Yet it is not at all fluffy. This, I think, is a rare gift, to be able to write stories that are true and rich and yet simple. It feels as though he's sitting a the table with you, telling you the story, choosing his words carefully, but not deliberating overlong, not complicating things.

I read The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian about a year ago, then immediately watched Smoke Signals, a movie for which he wrote the screenplay. I am now tempted to gather all things Alexie and power through them, but that would be like eating all your jellybeans on Easter morning. An indulgence which ultimately makes you wish you had some restraint.

The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Luis Zafon

2011-05-22T16:45:00.000-07:00

This book was a little too melodramatic for me. I was initially charmed by the setting, and was prepared to wander down the alleys and sit in the cafes of Barcelona along with the protagonist. But then there was the part about him falling in love with the truly awful-sounding novel. And maybe adolescent boys in Spain, during Franco's rule, were very different from adolescent boys in the United States, in the 21st century, but this kid seemed way too self-possessed and self-reflective to be true. I was completely on board for the more fantastical magical stuff, but honestly there was very little else that seemed remotely plausible. A quarter of the way into it, I was wondering how soon I'd be done. So I stopped.

Bonk, By Mary Roach

2011-05-16T20:13:00.000-07:00

This book is subtitled "The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex". Which sums up Mary Roach's combination of humor and academic rigor. This book will tell you every single thing you never wanted to know about sex, in shuddering detail. I found myself physically cringing an awful lot while reading this book, but I had a hard time putting it down. It's not surprising that researchers want to understand the mechanics of sex more thoroughly, but some of their experiments verge on the masochistic.

Mary Roach is a very funny woman, which is one reason that I, an avowed avoider of nonfiction, read all of her books. She also has a talent for exploring subjects that are a little uncomfortable (see Stiff). I really admire her willingness to climb out from behind her stack of books to experience the ickier side of science. In the case of this book, she, and at times her apparently very understanding husband, participated in several of the studies she describes. That is dedication I admire.

The author herself notes that sex is not a subject that can be understood without taking into account the emotional side of the equation. Most of the studies she uncovers are, however, all about mechanics. It makes sense, of course, that scientists are interested in pure data. And I can imagine that funding proposals for sex research have to be carefully written. It is true that this kind of scientific pursuit has led to breakthroughs in both medicine and technology, but I still maintain that there is a little bit of magic at work in really good sex, and all the studies in the world aren't going to make either a pill or a device that can deliver it.

Solar, by Ian McEwan

2011-05-03T20:06:00.000-07:00

What a trifecta; Dan Chaon, Willy Vlautin and Ian McEwan! Every month should be filled with such great writers.

I have always maintained that success and happiness depend a lot on the personality traits one is born with. Luck of the genetic variety. The protagonist of Solar, Michael Beard, is blessed with both brilliance and confidence, and is unhampered by empathy. The combination is a fortunate one for him, if not for his professional associates and many ex-wives. A man of unappealing personal habits, and few physical charms, he nontheless seduces women at a rate that would make Wilt Chamberlain jealous. Twenty years after receiving the award, Beard is resting on his Nobel Laurels, collecting steep fees for describing the Beard-Einstein Conflation, the theory he piggybacked onto the more famous E=MC2. Unable, in his middle years, to come up with anything resembling his youthful brilliance, Beard falls back on the time-trusted method of stealing ideas. Which works pretty well for him.

I love this book, the way it makes a mockery of the idea that good deeds are rewarded, and that villains come to a bad end. McEwan builds the story with his usual skill, as his hero flees one mess only to land in another. Eventually his life is a tangle that will take a miracle to escape. I am not, of course, a spoiler, so you'll have to read it to see how it turns out.

Ian McEwan's books are different enough from one another to make me want to read them all. He certainly has a style, but it is more in the way he creates tension and drives a story to its climax than anything else. My favorites of his are On Chesil Beach, which is an incredible book, and Saturday, powerful in its own right.

Great fact about Ian McEwan: He wrote the libretto for the Opera For You. Although it is available in book form, why would one want to read an opera? I would, however, love to see it. Opera seems like the perfect venue for his talent.

Northline, by Willy Vlautin

2011-04-30T17:45:00.000-07:00

Once again Willy Vlautin has ripped out my heart and left me bleeding, only to have me beg for more. Kind of like Eminem and Rihanna, without the egomaniacal violent misogynist part. One thing I love about Mr. Vlautin; no matter how devastated you feel at the end of his books, he leaves you with a sliver of grimy hope.

Allison Johnson is a great protagonist. She's more messed up than you, but maybe you've felt exactly the way she does, on your worst days. And maybe you've persevered as she does on your best days, though I think she's got me beat in that category. The story follows her through a harrowing year as she tries to escape her nightmare boyfriend, and manage her monumental anxiety. This girl has made a lot of bad choices, but it's hard to fault her, she is so clearly aching to do better. Her saving grace, aside from being likable, is her imaginary relationship with Paul Newman, who talks her through some of her lowest moments. Once again Willy Vlautin shows us what it's like to be a resident of the fringe of society, where expectations are low and behavior is generally bad.

The writing is the same plain gritty beautiful prose I fell in love with in Lean On Pete. Everyone in this book is damaged, and everyone is fully three-dimensional. Even the terrible boyfriend seems to have a few redeeming qualities, which I think is true of most people. If abusers were 100% awful, most would never get their hands on the fragile souls they feed on.

This book has a soundtrack! It's written and performed by WillyVlautin himself, along with Paul Brainard. A cd accompanies every book! How cool is that? Embedding a song in this post is beyond my technological powers, though I have tried valiantly. Read the book, listen to the music; they're both great.

Await Your Reply, by Dan Chaon

2011-04-21T22:33:00.000-07:00

Well, I have a new literary crush. That being said, I did this book a great injustice by reading it in little bits and pieces, over the course of almost two weeks. It deserves some undivided attention. It is comprised of three stories, which are ultimately intertwined, beautifully mirroring one another. As though they reflect one another on a slightly wavering surface, so that just as you glimpse the similarities, they are gone.

Each narrative is told from the point of view of a runaway. Ryan is fleeing his parents after learning that he is not who he thought he was. Lucy escapes her small town in the wake of her parents' death, in the front seat of her history teacher's Maserati. Miles has been uprooting his life for decades, in search of his elusive identical twin. The action switches between the present and the past; many pasts, as it turns out. The structure is complex, but it remains clear what is happening to whom, and how it fits into the overall timeline. Which is pretty impressive.

Is it possible to walk away from your life, and make it over entirely? This novel continually made me ask myself, "Are people really like this? Is this going on all over America?" It is a testament to the fine writing that I kept answering myself in the affirmative. What a feat! In less skillful hands it would have seem contrived and ridiculous. As it was, I was kept guessing until the end, unsure of how the trio of tales would resolve themselves, anxious to get learn the truth, but wanting to make the book last.

The author describes his novel as Hitchcockian. Hitchcocklike? Rest assured, he put it more gracefully. It has many characteristics of a thriller, and I had to read one section through slitted eyes, because it was so suspenseful and clinically creepy. I am not a fan of the mystery/crime genre (much to my own disappointment); this book rides the line between genre fiction and just generally really well-written fiction, which to me is a perfect combination. In short, I loved it, and can't wait to read his other work.

Here's a great interview with the author. He's pretty nerdy/dreamy, which is the best kind of dreamy, in my book.

Love, Aubrey, by Suzanne LaFleur

2011-04-05T07:28:00.000-07:00

This is my just-turned-ten-year-old daughter's favorite book. About a month ago, she was reading it in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, saying, "This is the best book EVER! But it's so sad." Two weeks later, there I was in bed, reading this book and crying. I won't say it's the best book ever, but it's pretty good.

Eleven-year-old Aubrey has lost her father and sister in a car crash, and now her mother has disappeared, leaving her to fend for herself. Fortunately, her grandmother takes her in, and the book takes place over the course of the next year. As you can imagine, Aubrey's got a little processing to do. Heavy stuff for a kids' book, but I think it's just the right mix of serious and fun; it turns out that life doesn't end when your family is gone, though it seems like it should.

The author, Suzanne LaFleur, is exactly the kind of adult I wanted to be when I was a child. She's in her mid-twenties, and so hasn't been a bona fide grownup for all that long - I hope she can sustain her absolute coolness. You can read about her on her website. If you loved Harriet the Spy and heroines of her ilk, you will love Suzanne LaFleur.

http://www.suzannelafleur.com/Suzanne.html

I don't read that much kids' lit these days, but when my children particularly love something I will give it a try. I remember reading my favorites over and over again, in a way I just wouldn't as an adult. This is a great pick for the tweeners, and not a bad grownup read if you're ready to shed a few tears.

A Reliable Wife, by Robert Goolrick

2011-03-26T21:35:00.000-07:00

This book is everywhere these days, including the top of many must-read lists. I've been surfing the net for hours, trying to figure out who likes this book so much, and why. I have come to the conclusion that it is beloved by people who adore bodice-ripping romances, but like them to feel like good literature.

As for it being a prime choice for book clubs, my bias against that designation has just increased. Surely people who get together to explore character and motivation would require something with a little more subtlety and substance.

I admit to having finished the book; I wanted to see how it ended (though I hated the ending). It struck me, originally, as a typical first novel; a little obvious, with the author tending to explain what was happening, rather than just letting events unfold. Eventually, however, the prose descended to platitudes, with characters summing up their entire lives in single sentences. From chapter to chapter, everybody's behavior changed one hundred and eighty degrees, yet they all calmly stated that they would never return to their former ways. Except that they did, over and over. Then they'd state again that they had changed, utterly.

The plot snapshot is this: 1907, Wisconsin. A wealthy, and I mean Midas-like, widower waits for his mail-order bride. Surprise, she is not the woman she claimed to be. No problem, he is patience itself. She goes off, at his request, \ in search of his long-lost son. Surprise, she returns to the former life we, the readers, had guessed she'd led. She returns to her husband, and yes, she does chooses this version of her life after all. Then the son throws a wrench into the works. Love, guilt, shame, and emotional blackmail ensue. And sex, lots of sex.

The thing that bothered me the most about this book was the timeline. It all takes place over the course of a single winter. Now I know that Wisconsin winters are long and hard, but honestly, this one must have lasted for 17 months! Statements such as "night after night" and "day after day" are used with great frequency in this book, which leads the reader to assume that each section of the book lasts for, well, weeks and weeks.

As I mentioned, other people do like this book. Here's a much more complimentary review, from the Washington Post. I might still read Goolrick's memoir, The End of the World as We Know It. It sounds like the kind of dysfunctional family history I enjoy, and it's set in the South, where they really know how to do family drama. He should probably have left the cold, austere winters of Wisconsin alone.

Alternatives to Sex, by Stephen McCauley

2011-03-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

Steven McCauley's books always seem to end too soon. There is something about the easy pacing that has me settling in for a long read, only to discover that it's over. His characters are so familiar to me; perhaps I like his books so much because they could be written about me, if I were a fastidious gay man with no kids.

This is not my favorite of his books, but here are some things I liked about it:

It has a good ending. No neatly wrapped packages, but some resolutions - perfect.
The protagonist is likable, but also slightly annoying. This makes him not only seem real, but makes him seem like a friend - one you've known for a long time, and whose bad habits you accept.
There are a lot of post-9/11 ruminations and discussions, but you're not beaten over the head with the tragedy. In fact, there is a slightly sardonic, nothing-will-be-the-same-blah-blah-blah tone.

Somehow the writing didn't seem quite as polished as his other work. I think it was getting better as it went along. If you've never read Stephen McCauley before, start with another, such as Insignificant Others, or his beautiful debut, The Object of My Affection. If you already love him, go ahead and read this one next.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

2011-03-12T08:44:00.000-08:00

I would probably not have read this book had it not been passed along to me by my sister, who does not share bad books. The title smacks of the kind of ladies lit that does not generally appeal to me, and frankly, it had gotten a little too much perfect-for-your-book-club press. Fortunately, I found myself with nothing to read several days ago, and decided to try it. It is popular with good reason, a sweet, funny book with a nice amount of historical tragedy. I was so charmed that for once I was gunning for a happy ending, which is very rare for me.

In short, a writer in London starts a correspondence with the members of literary group on one of the Channel Islands. It is 1946, everyone is still traumatized from the war, and the author, Juliet, is just learning of the German Occupation of Guernsey. It's an interesting little chunk of history; most of us didn't know that any of England was occupied.

I was always a big fan of the show Northern Exposure, and this is kind of the post-war British version. The cast of characters are unlikely allies, and altogether more fun than people in real life. Who wouldn't want to live in beautiful Guernsey with plucky, supportive friends who chat about books and have endless casual dinner parties?

I like epistolary novels, and for the most part the format works for this story. It seems a little forced by the end, with the main character doing an awful lot of writing without garnering very many responses. Juliet is funny, and witty, and self-deprecating; in short, a sympathetic narrator who adores her subjects. Much has been made of the author, who did not live to see the enormous sucees of her only novel. I was surprised to learn that she was American; this book seems so perfectly British. All in all a really fun read.

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky, by Hiedi W. Durrow

2011-03-08T21:41:00.000-08:00

Another great local author! Well, localish - among the many places she's lived, she counts Portland as the one she hails from. The book is great, and the author is nothing short of amazing. She's already been extremely successful in both academics and several varied careers. She hosts the annual Mixed Roots Film and Literary Festival, and my favorite thing, co-hosts the weekly podcast, Mixed Chicks Chat, with her friend and colleague Fanshon Cox. Listen to it here, you'll be glad you did. As long as you're on her site, read her quick interesting bio and look at her family photo albums.

Okay, enough hero-worship, on to the book. This is one of those that should be extremely depressing, but somehow isn't. It is certainly heartbreaking; the eleven-year-old protagonist loses most of her family in a tragedy, which remains shrouded in mystery until the end of the book, and even then is fairly incomprehensible. It is just about the complete opposite of Your Presence is Requested at Suvanto, which I finished a couple of days earlier. That book was all finely wrought physical details, and little sense of the world outside. This novel is made up of a series of events, clearly stated, reacted to, and reflected upon.

Although it's not very long, an awful lot happens in this novel. The protagonist, Rachel, is a child of mixed race and nationality. She has lived most of her eleven years on Army bases, unaware of the oddity of having a black American father and white Danish mother. When most of her family dies in a bizarre accident, she is sent to live with her grandmother in Portland. Here she is quickly made aware of racial differences; in Portland, she is black.

This is one unlucky family, and Rachel seems to be the only one who is holding up. The story unfolds in waves, following Rachel, a boy who witnessed the accident which killed her family, and a former friend of her deceased mother. Most of the members of her family buckle under the sorrow of loss, but this girl is tough. Come to think of it, I'd be tempted to classify this as YA, though it doesn't seem to be advertised as such. It has all the hallmark of good YA lit; a young heroine who makes her mistakes but stays true to herself, an out-of-the-ordinary friend who makes the real difference in her life, messed-up adults to rebel against... I recommend it.

Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates, by Tom Robbins

2011-02-28T20:11:00.000-08:00

I've always had a soft spot for Tom Robbins, and I was pretty interested in what might happen to the main character. But God help me, I couldn't sit through 415 pages of tangential rantings on the part of an egomaniacal CIA agent who has an inappropriate relationship with his 16 year old stepsister. Actually, it was the underage stepsister that really got me; a 32 year old white guy who thinks he knows more than anybody else is something for which I've kind of built up a tolerance.

Your Presence is Requested at Suvanto, by Maile Chapman

2011-02-19T19:48:00.001-08:00

I have no idea what happened at the end of this book. The conclusion was so intentionally murky that I didn't get it at all. Plot, however, is not really the point of this novel. It's all about atmosphere and repressed emotion.

That makes it easy to synopsize: Sunny is head nurse at Suvanto, a hospital in rural Finland that caters, in part, to a clientele of wealthy not-sick but not-well women. These "up-patients," so called because they live on the top floor of the building, are in many cases there to hide out from life as much as to recover from illness. Sunny herself is hiding out, having fled the United States (I think) soon after the protracted death of her mother.

There is no indication of what is going on in the world outside. In fact, I have only the vaguest idea of when the story takes place. I originally thought it was the 1940's, but then decided it was more like the twenties... or thirties? There is no mention of war, which usually provides an anchor for novels set in the first half of the 20th century, particularly in Europe. If the characters are between wars, they don't ever mention the one that's past. Likewise, personal details about all of the characters are shrouded, hinted at, and sometimes revealed in intriguing but frustratingly brief nuggets.

In contrast, both the setting and present events are told in beautiful detail. I have such vivid pictures in my mind of the hospital hallways, the patients, the rooms. Corny as it sounds, I can feel the heat of the sauna, and hear the rare muffled sounds of the forest in the snow. Reading this book is a profoundly sensory experience.

If one wanted to escape, an island off the coast of Finland might be the best place to do it. The language is extremely hard to master, the people private in the extreme, and it's dark a whole lot of the time. A huge hospital in a remote ice-locked bay seems like a setting for an intensely spooky story. There is one creepy event near the end, but for the most part the disturbing stuff is all internal.

Each personal story is tinged with a sense of the difficulty of being a woman. Some characters are pushed into being caretakers, some mildly abused by the men in their lives, others scared of sexuality. Ultimately, the up-patients create a catty society of one-upmanship that is not unlike a high school clique, while Sunny, the outsider, flees from a chance at real friendship. All of this is gently blanketed by the calm daily routine of the hospital, just as the footprints of miscreants are covered with the deep winter snow.

Louisiana Power and Light, by John Dufresne

2011-02-08T20:55:00.000-08:00

Note to self: next time read John Dufresne on vacation! His novels have so many well-drawn characters, all of whom are connected through odd circumstances. As it was, reading a little bit a day, I found myself leafing back through the book several times, trying to remember who they all were, and how they were related.

The novel, much like his later Requiem, Mass., rattles along at breakneck speed, scattering colorful details and random erudition in its wake. This is a very funny book, which veers fearlessly into tragedy. I am reminded of Larry McMurtry, another author who is not afraid to kill off absolutely any character, and usually just as you've come to love them.

Billy Wayne Fontana is the last of a cursed tribe. The Fontana clan runs exclusively to male progeny, who are often deformed at birth, and rarely make it to childbearing age. Which may be just as well, considering the trouble they get themselves into as adults. As the last living Fontana, it looks as though Billy Wayne may have escaped the family fate. He is almost done with seminary when he meets Earlene deBastrop, and his life veers into maelstrom of love and expectation.

Much of this book is taken up with the question of whether one can avoid one's fate, and the corollary question, do our expectations determine the trajectory of our lives? I got a little bogged down with Billy Wayne's travels down this road. Mostly, he seems to have avoided acting on many of his good impulses. The resulting downward spiral belies the hopeful beginning, which should probably come as no surprise, given the narrator's dire predictions.

I do think I might have enjoyed this novel more had I read it more quickly; unfinished books eventually become tiresome. It is funny, fast-paced, and filled with memorable characters.

Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky

2011-01-29T22:53:00.000-08:00

This is an extremely moving book; the knowledge that the author perished at Auschwitz makes it all the more affecting. Irene Nemirovsky's older daughter possessed the manuscript for many years without realizing what it contained; she thought it was a diary, and thought it would be too painful to read. Instead, she found two of a planned series of five novellas about the German Occupation of France.

These two short novels contain vivid descriptions of both the flight from Paris during the invasion, and life under Occupation in the countryside. They seem contemporary; events and reactions that could as easily take place today. I love that the stories do not just illuminate the struggles between nations, but differences in class. Life as a refugee is, not surprisingly, easier when one is rich and well-connected.

The stories are linked but separate, some characters appear in both. Events are seen from several points of view, which gives a great perspective on the whole. War is the central event in the book, but it is also a lens that brings each personality into focus. The characters and their reactions to their situations are, in the end, more interesting than what is happening to them.

Several of the reviews I read, like this one from the New York Times, that marvel at Nemirovsky's ability to write so reflectively about devastating events as they transpire. Doubly amazing as she was in constant danger of being arrested and separated from her young children. This did, alas, come to pass, and she was at Auschwitz for only a month before 'dying of typhoid', likely a Nazi euphemism for being gassed. Her husband soon followed.

I generally skim biographical data that accompanies novels, but this story was so interesting and heartbreaking that I read quite a it. The translator, Sandra Smith, is clearly devoted to the subject of her work. The appendix includes vast amounts of research and many contextual explanations, as well as photocopies of the manuscript itself.

I put off reading this book for a long time, because I thought it would be depressing and dated. I was happily surprised to find that it was neither.

Raising Ourselves: A Gwich'in Coming of Age Story from the Yukon River, by Velma Wallis

2011-01-25T19:59:00.000-08:00

Velma Wallis' mother was not planning to have children, because she knew what the life of an Alaskan mother looked like. She ended up having 14 of them, bowing out of motherhood well before they were old enough to do without her.

This is a heartbreaking story of a culture in transition. Fort Yukon in the 60's is probably like a lot of native towns in that era. Modernity has brought white bread and alcohol, and nothing a whole lot more useful. Velma loses her parents and most of her siblings to the bottle. At 13, she and her brother take over the household, caring for their 4 younger siblings while their mother battles alcoholism. At 15, she moves out to the family land (by herself) to live by trapping, as her ancestors did. I am in awe of what she went through by the time she hit voting age.

My overall impression is of a family united by love, but ravaged by addiction and poverty. The book could use some further editing, and is not what you'd call finely wrought. I was riveted, though, by this view into the life of an American girl not so far from my own age, but a world apart in terms of culture and opportunity. A good book for when you're feeling whiney - you will definitely get over yourself..

Blood Brothers, by Richard Price

2011-01-11T21:22:00.000-08:00

Do teenage boys really talk to each other this way? If so, I have just developed a new love for teenage boys...

This is Richard Price's first novel. It seems evident that author himself is young, not far removed from the choices his protagonist is making. Stony DeCoco (yes, yes, possibly the best name in fiction!) is wonderfully real, and engagingly communicative with both his friends and family. What a great window into both an era and a neighborhood. I felt as though I was actually holding my breath during most of this book; Stony is right on the verge of turning into the adult he is going to be, and it's hard to tell which way he's going to go.

Very nicely told; the dialogue is particularly good, and you can just see that Richard Price is also coming into his own. I like it when authors write about their native places, it always makes me want to know those places as intimately as they do.

This book reminded me that there's a lot going on under the surface of seemingly unremarkable people, maybe especially in teenagers. Stony is such a dude, with such a loving and tender side. Very nicely told, the dialogue is particularly good, and you can just see that Richard Price is also coming into his own.

Here's an interview with Richard Price. He sounds just like his characters.

Peace Like A River, by Leif Enger

2011-01-05T08:26:00.000-08:00

It's not easy to write about an angel and not sound saccharine - at least I assume it's hard, since so few people are successful at it.

Here's an odd thing about this book. I couldn't decide, upon picking it up, whether I had read it, or just had it on my to-read list for a long time. Pretty shortly into the first chapter, I decided that I had in fact read it. And really liked it. But at no point in this rereading did I find myself thinking "Oh, yeah, now I remember what happens." In fact, I didn't remember the ending at all; it was brand new to me. And yet it's a really great book, with memorable characters and an interesting plot. Which means either that I am closer to full-onset senility than I thought, or the book is just a tiny bit miraculous.

The novel tells the story of a year in the life of a family of extraordinary people, told from the perspective of its most ordinary member, 11 year old Reuben. His father is a gentle man inclined to produce miracles, his 9 year old sister writes epic poetry and runs the household, and his 16 year old brother is a level-headed and kind dispenser of vigilante justice.

The book is set in the early 60's and shows an America just on the cusp of modernity. There are still wide open spaces in which a man can hide from the law indefinitely. Technology hasn't yet made many inroads, and rural life is not so different than it was 30 years before. I loved the descriptions of the Western landscape, and the sense that this story hangs right on the edge of a whole new era, not only for the characters, but for the world.

Bitter is the New Black, by Jen Lancaster

2010-12-12T16:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, the full title is Bitter is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office, but that most decidedly does not fit into the space provided for post titles. Which is Jen Lancaster all over.

At the outset of this book, I couldn't find much to like about the author. She was all of the things she claims to be in the title, with the addition being of Republican sorority girl. Not exactly my cup of tea. By the end, however, she had discovered both humility and compassion, and had changed her attitude towards the benefits of conspicuous consumerism. All of which make her much more likable, but not intrinsically different. That is one of the things I love about this book; it's about realigning her attitudes and habits, not about changing who she is. Very refreshing when you've read too many books/seen too many movies that are described as "stories of redemption."

It's also good to remember that I do not have to either agree with the politics, or admire the lifestyle, of an author to enjoy her work.

The 19th Wife, by David Ebershoff

2010-11-28T13:52:00.000-08:00

Here's a weird fact: the cover of this book is almost exactly the same as that of the first polygamist novel I read; a nice thick braid gracing the back of a woman's neck. Apparently this is an icon of fundamentalism.

The 19th Wife is very long. It consists of two interwoven stories; one set in the present, spanning only a week or so, the other encompassing a woman's entire life in the middle of the 19th century. Jordan is the child of a modern polygamist sect, who was abandoned on the highway as a teenager at the behest of the Prophet. Boys, of course, are competition for church elders (there are just not enough women to go around) and thus are thrown out on the slightest pretext. Jordan's mother, his father's 19th wife, is accused of killing her husband, and her son feels compelled to clear her name. Despite the fact that she agreed to his abandonment. (There is a lot of mother-worship in this book, which I am heartily in favor of.) The other story describes the early days of Mormonism as seen through the eyes of Ann Eliza, who was Brigham Young's 19th wife, but who eventually renounced polygamy. She is credited with helping to end the institution, as least as sanctioned by the Mormon church. See? Just the synopsis is long, and I'm leaving out a lot.

I really enjoyed this book, although I found the accounts of the Pioneers of Mormonism a little too long. I've always maintained that people in the 19th century had a lot of time on their hands. Literature from that period goes on and on and on, and so, apparently, do the memoirs and letters. That said, this is a really great, if biased, history of the Mormon Church. The present-day portion on its own would be a good solid YA book, although the protagonist loses a lot of his edginess during the course of the story, which to my mind diminishes his appeal.

David Ebershoff clearly did a lot of research while writing The 19th Wife. I get most of my knowledge of history from fiction, so it's always nice to know it's authentic. Overall worth reading, particularly if you have a lot of time on your hands.

The Broken Shore, by Peter Temple

2010-11-28T09:21:00.000-08:00

If I were a fan of crime fiction, I would have loved this book. I am possibly missing a tiny strand of DNA, as the other members of my family devour mysteries and crime dramas with relish. Then again, all of them are also blessed with a terrific sense of direction. Perhaps the two are related?

So, from the perspective of someone who does not particularly like dead bodies littering her reading material: This beautifully written book takes place in a small town on the coast of Australia. The title character spends lots of time hiking broodily through the countryside with his dogs. He has some sort of complicated back story, which includes being responsible for the death of another cop. He's your typical loner detective; injured in both body and psyche, with an admirable sense of justice and a little too much dedication to his job. Originally I thought that I'd stepped into a series midway, and thus didn't understand his past and how it affected this particular story, but apparently this is the first Joe Cashin book. The reader unravels the mystery of the protagonist's life as he uncovers the truth behind a local murder. Layers upon layers.

This is a great book. I'd like to say that if it is in fact the beginning of a new series, I will read every one. But to be honest this is just not my genre. However I would heartily recommend it to anyone who does like crime fiction; the imagery of the landscape and the deft handling of the racism at the center of the story are both really well done. The outcome seemed very improbably to me, but then I feel that way at the end of just about every mystery novel.

Out Stealing Horses, by Per Petterson

2010-11-16T09:07:00.001-08:00

What can I say about a book that has been reviewed already by the likes of Thomas McGuane, and received many prizes, and sold a gazillion copies? I'll be brief; you've probably already read it, or heard about it, but in case you haven't, here is why you should put it at the top of your list.

It is a gorgeous book, written in a spare, eloquent style. Although it's not long, it manages to encompass several lives and many complicated events. I was curious about the translation; it felt almost like broken English, and I wondered if that was the intention. It turns out that the author worked with the translator to craft English sentences in such a way that they would imitate Norwegian. It is successful. The main character also sounds very much like a man in his 60's.

The basic story is that 67 year old Trond, having lost both wife and sister, sets out to live in a remote part of the country, alone. He runs into an acquaintance from his youth, which sets off both recollections and ruminations of the summer he turned 15. So here we have a coming-of-age story, an end-of-life story, and a that-was-the-year-everything-changed story all rolled into one. Set in a magnificent landscape. Read it, it's great.

Here is a wonderful interview with the author. I read it and thought, of course this man wrote this book, it was inevitable.

Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things, by Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee

2010-11-15T12:45:00.000-08:00

I can't remember the last time I picked up a work of non-fiction (that was not a memoir) and liked it so much. This is one of those books which displays great scholarship and is still eminently readable.

I recently discovered the t.v. show Hoarders. It's fascinating, but very reality-show-tabloidish. I kind of feel like a junkie whenever I watch it, and suffer the guilt associated with being entertained by other people's dysfunction. In contrast, this book offers empathetic insight into why otherwise well-adapted people end up living under piles of junk. That, to me, is one of the most enlightening conclusions the authors reach; many hoarders really are pretty normal in other aspects of their lives. The team has done a lot of compelling research into the reasons for the disorder, and found that they are quite varied.

Here's the thing about extreme behavior: once you start to look at it closely, you realize that you yourself, or people you know, engage in milder versions of it. In terms of hoarding, this applies, obviously, to those of us who hold on to too much stuff. But I can also see, in myself and in my friends, hints of some of the underlying issues that cause people to hoard in the first place.

The revelation I find the most fascinating is the idea that hoarders avoid throwing things away because it causes them discomfort. It is easier to ignore the walls of junk piling up than to confront the feelings that accompany getting rid of something that might someday be useful. Avoidance of distress is certainly a tactic I can relate to. Interestingly, many of the people in this book found that when they experienced the distress of throwing something away, it really wasn't all that bad. Their fear of unpleasant emotions far outweighed the reality of those emotions. That is something I can really relate to.

One of the reasons that I spend so much of my free time reading is that I want to understand why we are the way we are. This book shoved me a whole lot further down that path, while simultaneously keeping me entertained.

Lean on Pete, by Willy Vlautin

2010-10-06T13:35:00.000-07:00

I wish I were as talented a writer as Willy Vlautin. Then I'd be able to explain how the combination of his writing, and his music, and his attire, and his interview style all touch me. I have always been fascinated by a certain type of male writer. The kind who is really smart, mostly blue collar, who determinedly pursues his quirky interests, and does not seem to be concerned about the trappings of success. Manly, but emotional. In my mind, he drinks and smokes and is handy, and he reads a lot. Maybe he's an amalgamation of Raymond Carver and David James Duncan and a guy I had a huge crush on in my twenties. As far as I can tell, Willy Vlautin is the embodiment of this literary archetype, the moody writer of my dreams.

I wouldn't be so enamored of Willy Vlautin if his novel Lean on Pete wasn't so incredibly good. My friend Craig gave it to me, and told me to pass it on when I finished it, and it is now my mission to get that book to as many people as possible. Let me know if you want to be the next one to read it... I just discovered that it is also the subject of the Multnomah County Library's Pageturners monthly book discussion groups. Willy himself has been participating in these discussion groups at branch libraries for months. Unfortunately I can't make it to either of the remaining ones. Damn.

Lean on Pete is set partly in Portland, and of course it's always more fun to read books that are set in familiar locations. It's the story of Charley, a fifteen-year-old whose life is spiraling into a pit of deprivation and loneliness. As his situation becomes more difficult, Charley shines with a grubby glow. The story is told on the fine edge between brutality and hope; despite the injustice and sorrow that pervade his life, Charley doggedly pursues his plan of tracking down his long-lost aunt. That he is doing it in spite of the adults he encounters seems unsurprising to him.

As a parent, I am often party to conversations about how resilient children are, and how much more self-sufficient than we give them credit for. This book reminds me that children hide a lot of anxiety and pain as they strive to live up to expectations. Charley proves to be very adept at making his way alone in the world, but the reader is left wishing that he didn't have to.

Vlautin's writing style is lovely. Spare, clean, unsentimental. This is one of the best books I've read this year, and I heartily wish that I still had the experience of reading it ahead of me.

Here is an interview from Seattlepi.com. It's a few years old, but is my answer to "why do you want to be Willy Vlautin?"

And here is a Powell's question and answer that makes me like him even more.

Ship Breaker, by Paolo Bacigalupi

2010-09-27T21:13:00.000-07:00

It was only after I read someone else's review of Ship Breaker that I realized it is classified as science fiction. Which made me wonder about the definition. This book is set in the future, but does not contain any of the elements I generally associate with that genre; gadgets, new theories of physics, stuff like that. All of the definitions provided to me by Google run something like this one, found at Wikipedia: "Science fiction is a genre of fiction dealing with the impact of imagined innovations in science or technology, often in a futuristic setting." Although climate change is not exactly an innovation, it is certainly the possible result of science and technology, so I guess it counts.

This is a book that would make a great video game. (I say this despite having very little experience playing video games.) It is fast-paced, and has lots of great lingo. It is a teeny bit violent, and the characters are pretty much super-human in their ability to take a licking and keep on ticking.

The protagonist is Nailer, a teenaged boy with an abusive father and a job as a light crew scavenger, scurrying through the wreckage of oil tankers to gather copper wiring for resale. In this bleak and not-too-distant future, category 6 storms are the norm, New Orleans is long under water, and now obsolete tankers rust on the beaches of the Gulf Coast. Electronic technology is still up and running, but fossil fuels are a thing of the past. Nailer makes a discovery which could make him king of the salvage yards when he happens upon a modern clipper ship wrecked on an outcropping of rock. He has to make the kind of moral choice that drives fiction: save the girl or go for the gold. The rest is nail-biting action.

Society in this novel has followed its current trajectory: the rich are richer and the poor are in trouble. Nailer's commentary on family, loyalty and desperation are very touching. I always love a stand-up guy as hero, and I'm also enjoying the boy--on-his-own-in-trouble genre, which is far less upsetting to me than the girl-in-trouble-and-messed-with-by-men genre. This is good YA - a little more action than is generally my taste, but a fun read.

I'm putting Paolo Bacigalupi's first novel, The Windup Girl, on my list. It won the Nebula Award, and tied for the Hugo. It sounds timely and fascinating...

The Kids Are All Right, by Diana Welch & Co.

2010-09-20T13:59:00.000-07:00

I read this back in October, but never managed to post about it. It's an interesting family memoir, written by four adult siblings, in rotating chapters. Two of them are professional writers, the other two decidedly not. I liked that each of the four has a distinct voice; the two who are not writers have not had their prose cleaned up or polished, and thus sound genuine.

It's always fascinating to hear a group of people talk about common past events. Each person's account is different, colored by perspective, emotion and age. These kids had a complicated family, and ended up spending a fair amount of time away from one another. I get the feeling that in this book they are not only telling their family story, but learning about the portions of one another's childhoods they did not get to witness.

The story itself is another from the my-screwed-up-childhood genre. While their story is a lot less hair-raising than many I've read, the Welches had a pretty hard time of it. A reminder to get the custody worked out before you check out.

Tender at the Bone, by Ruth Reichl

2010-09-20T13:27:00.000-07:00

I don't usually read non-fiction. I like a good story, and if I accidentally learn something along the way, so be it. I do like memoirs, though, particularly if they involve seriously dysfunctional families. One advantage, as far as I'm concerned, is that the story happened (more or less) the way it happened, and if I don't like the way it turned out I can't blame the author.

Now, I am not a foodie. I own only a handful of cookbooks, I don't watch the cooking channel, I buy Costco olive oil, and when I was married I was very happy to let my husband do all of the cooking. Which indicates to me that Ruth Reichl is a terrific writer, because I loved this book. That her entire childhood is told through the filter of food is clearly not a clever device; she actually remembers her whole life according to what was being served and by whom! There is certainly some dysfunction (does every good memoirist have a bi-polar mother?), but mostly there is just good storytelling. In fact, I found myself thinking that my own life would seem much more interesting if I could but find a unifying theme running through it.

After reading this book, I spent a long time trying to remember specific meals from my childhood. There are a few, but when it comes to culinary training, I mostly remember my sister and mother experimenting in the kitchen together while I snuck off to my pine-needle fort in the woods.

Little Bee, by Chris Cleave

2010-09-13T16:15:00.000-07:00

"When I was a teenager in the 1980s, we thought of asylum seekers as heroes. The hundreds who died while trying to cross the Berlin Wall, for example. Or the pilots, performers and scientists who defected from the Soviet Union. Or the heroes of previous generations – Sigmund Freud, who fled to London to escape the Nazis, or Anne Frank, who could not flee far enough. Albert Einstein, Karl Marx, Joseph Conrad – all of them refugees – I could go on and on. When horror and darkness descend, asylum seekers are the ones who get away. They are typically above average in terms of intellectual gifts, far-sightedness, motivation and resilience. These are the people you want to have on your side. It will be a monument to our hubris if we allow ourselves to start thinking of them as a burden."

This is just one of the inspiring paragraphs I found on Chris Cleave's website. I could spend all day there - what an interesting and engaging guy.

I really loved this book. One of the greatest things about it is the blurb in the front of the dust jacket. I have returned it to the library, and so can't quote it verbatim, but it basically says that the book is great, that the story hinges on the choices made by two women, and that to say more would ruin the story. All true! I might well have passed it by had I known more about the story. In fact, this is the last book I will read for a while that includes the abuse of teenaged girls by men. My heart can't take it - I have girls verging on their teens, and it is too painful to think of them in similar situations.

Don't you hate it when reviewers say "this is an important book"? I feel disinclined to read any book thus heralded. But I think that this novel may in fact be important: the subject is one which we should, in the western world, understand. But it is pure story; there is no lecture, no sense of being enlightened Concerning an Important Fact of Life. It is well-written and entertaining, the two narrators are charming. One even has a terrible boyfriend who, despite her intelligence and success, she continues to adore. Just the kind of flaw that makes a character seem real.

Then the ending. Well. Really? I just couldn't see it, though I can understand why the author wanted it to end that way. Chris Cleave got a lot of things right in this book, primarily Little Bee's voice. I get the feeling there will be a lot more books, and I look forward to seeing him get better and better.

I kind of want to read Incendiary, Chris Cleave's first novel. But if violence against girls is hard to take, how much more painful to read about a mother losing her child? I will wait for a time when I feel a little more thick-skinned. Until then I will peruse his website in a manner verging on stalkerish.

The Chosen One, by Carol Lynch Williams

2010-09-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

Wives are kind of like potato chips; it's really hard to stop at just one. So in honor of the maritally enthusiastic, September is polygamy month! I've got a few titles lined up, and have started the series with this fantastic YA novel. I read this in two sittings, but would have finished it in one, if my pesky children hadn't needed feeding and attention. Perhaps I should find a couple of wives to take care of them so that I can spend more time reading...

Where I heard about this book: I found it in my hunt for polygamy lit, mostly performed on the Multnomah County Library website.

What I thought of this book: Fantastic. All the stars in the firmament for this wonderful novel.

13 year old Kyra has one father, three mothers and 19 siblings (so far). She also has an unpromising future on the compound of The Chosen Ones, a breakaway Mormon sect. Kyra's greatest assets are her love for her family and her independent spirit; unfortunately, independence is not a trait the Prophet is fond of, particularly in young girls. He makes it very clear to Kyra and her family that if she resists early marriage to an elderly relative, her entire family will suffer. Smart, intrepid and self-reliant, Kyra is unwilling to fall into line, but also not crazy about the idea of tearing her family apart.

This novel is YA at its best. I had to forcibly stop myself from skipping to the end to see how it turned out. Williams does a great job of describing the no-win situations of her characters. Kyra is an engaging protagonist, who will not be dominated by the leaders of her community, nor by the mute fear of her family.

The Bones, by Seth Greenland

2010-08-31T20:40:00.000-07:00

First, let me say that I really hope that this book is made into a movie. It will be funny and edgy in that great Hollywood kind of way; Seth Greenland is a talented writer, good at the one liner and the film/lit reference, which always makes the reader, or viewer, feel smart and with it. I must admit that I am a tiny bit tired of the entertainment industry as entertainment: don't they already control the world and most of its content? That, however, is more a matter of my literary choices, and less a matter of the quality of this book.

That being said, I loved the first 3/4 of this book, and was frustrated by (surprise!) the ending. I had it pegged for the perfect vacation read, but I think it would hold up best if you read the very end just as your plane was landing, while you were filled with the sentimentality of exhaustion and longing that comes with the end of a trip.

Okay, plot. This book is about two friends, more or less. One is an extremely, if inadvertently, successful TV writer. The other is a very talented and moderately successful stand up comic. As the writer's star rises, the comedian's is setting. Jealousy ensues on both sides, as no one has quite achieved the life he envisioned. Fate pulls them back into the same orbit, and a series of poor decisions drives the story to its wacky conclusion. It's written in a sardonic, visual style. I pictured the whole story taking place onscreen.

What I liked about this book: The characters are sympathetic, the writing is very engaging.

What I didn't like about this book: Tenses. For heaven's sake, don't mess with the tenses. I was unable, ultimately, to determine whether the author was using the present tense as a literary device, then deliberately switching to the past, or whether the publishers simply forgot to hire a copy editor. Either way, it was damned annoying.

The ending. Both the very end, and the penultimate journey. I think that if you are going to go that far over the top, and introduce a lot of bad guys and weapons and getaway cars, it's just not cool to get all rainbow-hued and sappy at the end.

Deaf Sentence, by David Lodge

2010-08-23T15:08:00.000-07:00

This novel is far milder than David Lodge's usual fare, which generally features bitingly funny satire and hilariously over the top plot twists. This kinder, gentler Lodge is still very funny, and nails his characters in a way few can imitate.

Where I heard about this book: Looking for something funny to read, I checked out the Lodge shelf.

What I thought about this book: It was chugging along at 4 stars, but an anemic ending brings it down to 3. And a half.

What this book is about: Desmond Bates is a retired professor of linguistics who is well on his way to becoming deaf. His inability to hear much of what is going on around him leads to some very funny situations, such as his inadvertently making a date with a comely young American student. It is also the basis many touching ruminations on community and isolation. David Lodge is himself a victim of hearing loss, which is probably the basis for his gentle treatment of the subject. Unfortunately, he is shade too gentle with the somewhat pompous Bates, and lets him slide easily out of the difficulties he's created for himself. The gorgeous setup of Desmond's accidental relationship with the increasingly odd American, his tough-as-nails wife and his senile and uncooperative father begs for a major fall. He is allowed, however, to slip through the trap unscathed. The novel ends up being amusing and sweet, but misses the wickedly funny mark Lodge usually hits.

Sweet Mary, by Liz Balmaseda

2010-08-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

I don't really have much to say about this book. It was entertaining, it started out much more strongly than it ended, the heroine was engaging. I don't really expect thrillers to adhere to the laws of reality, but this one stretched, to the point of discomfort, my ability to believe. The things I did like about it: Miami is just a really cool place to set a book. The protagonist was likable, as were her family and friends. The good guys were vindicated, the bad guys got theirs. (Not much of a spoiler - you expect this from the outset.) If there were a sequel I would probably give it a chance.

Where I heard about this book: Browsing at the library again - I am truly a geek. I chose it because it had a Carl Hiasson quote on the cover.

What I thought of this book: Okay. 2 stars.

What this book is about: Mary, a successful single mother, is arrested in her house, in broad daylight, in front of her child, accused of being a drug lord. It is a case of mistaken identity, which Mary is determined to clear up. A sort of typical woman-as-amateur-sleuth story ensues, replete with rekindled flame and spunky best friend. I only wish that the end had lived up to the promise of the beginning - I engaged in a lot of eye-rolling before I reached the end.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery

2010-08-10T20:38:00.000-07:00

The silver lining to my hour and a half wait at the doctor's office (I never did manage to see him, but that's a managed care horror story for another time), is that I persevered through the slow beginning of this book. Once in, I enjoyed the careful combination of erudition and entertainment. The ending, unfortunately, was not terrific. I admit to being a pretty harsh judge of endings, but honestly, after the work that went into all of the palatable-for-the-public philosophical musings in this book, I think we could expect a little more subtlety. Here's a nice review from the Guardian; their reviewer is a little more enthusiastic and doubtless more thoughtful than I.

Where I heard about this book: Can't really remember - it was reviewed everywhere.

What I thought of this book: Pretty good - 3 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: Narrated alternately by its two main characters, this book consists of the musings of a middle-aged concierge and one of the residents of her building, a world-weary 12 year old. Both are unusually brilliant outsiders, with penchants for philosophy and Japanese culture. They are ultimately saved from their parallel states of solitude by the mysterious stranger who comes to live in their midst. And, of course, they're all French, so they easily sound much smarter and more interesting than the rest of us.

Insignificant Others, by Stephen McCauley

2010-07-23T20:40:00.000-07:00

I could have read this book quite happily for the rest of the summer. The pace is really nice; things keep happening, but not at breakneck speed, and the characters and situations evolve in a way that seems natural. In short, this novel seems legitimately like a slice of life. In fact it wasn't until I'd finished it that I realized how profoundly the protagonist's life had changed during the course of the novel. Which is also, I think, like real life - it takes a little time and distance to see the changes time and experience have wrought.

Where I heard about this book: My friend (and talented author) Nina introduced me to Stephen McCauley 20-some years ago, and reminded me about him just recently.

What I thought of this book: Excellent. Not only a good read, but relaxing and reassuring in a way I can't quite put my finger on.

What this book is about: A middle-aged man gay man living in Boston. This is one of those books in which the protagonist is living a comfortable life, and is managing quite nicely to overlook the things that might make it seem less than ideal. Like the fact that his "insignificant other" is a man with whom he feels more of a connection than the guy he's been living with for the past 8 years. Or that his exercise addiction is more than a little unhealthy. Or, well, the list goes on. Luckily for the reader, events conspire which knock him out of his comfortable rut. The result is very entertaining, though not comedic. In short, a perfectly dramatic book in which nothing unbelievable or over the top happens. Hooray!

I really, really covet this blue chair and Stephen McCauley's ability to be so handsome and photogenic.

Nuclear Age, by Tim O'Brien

2010-07-22T20:54:00.000-07:00

Damn. I promised myself that I would not finish any book that I didn't love. Or at least really like. And yet I read this book until the bitter, bitter end, probably because I have loved the other books I've read by this very talented author.

Where I heard about this book: Browsing at the library.

What I thought of this book: Painfully frustrating.

What this book is about: A guy who is deathly afraid of worldwide annihilation via nuclear warhead. It moves back and forth between the present, in which he is digging a bomb shelter, and the past, spanning his childhood and early to mid-adulthood. The protagonist is best described as a passive activist. As a college student at the dawn of the Vietnam war, William makes a stab at goading his oblivious classmates into sharing his terror of the bomb. He is drawn into a group of anti-war activists, who more or less babysit him as he hides out from the draft. The message of this book seemed to me to be this: if you do absolutely nothing in your life, you will get the girl, be richly rewarded financially, and have the complicated aspects of your life seen to by other people. This flies in the face of my experiences thus far!

Reasons I finished this book despite not liking it much: I really, really like the other books I have read by Tim O'Brien, and I was compelled to find out what happened in the end.

This Is Where We Live, by Janelle Brown

2010-07-12T13:50:00.000-07:00

A friend gave me the first of Janelle Brown's books, All We Ever Wanted Was Everything, this past winter. I was skeptical, as it was clearly being marketed as chick lit. This is a genre I really want to like; these novels generally have all the components of great, fun literature: quirky heroines, on-the-edge-of-believable situations, lots of drinking. Unfortunately, most of the ladies' lit I've read starts with mediocre writing and devolves into predictable and annoying plotlines. But luck was with me this time, as I had discovered my new favorite ladie's lit author. Having completed this second of Janelle Brown's books, I am slightly depressed at the realization that she probably won't have another ready for my consumption for a couple of years. So, Janelle: get plenty of rest, exercise regularly, and don't get caught up in any needless charity work, because I'm counting on you to be prolific.

Where I heard about this book: Having really enjoyed her first novel, I looked her up on the always helpful Multnomah County Library website. I think I was the first to borrow this book - it was pristine! And still is, mostly. I did warp a few pages while reading it poolside...

What I thought of this book: Hooray! Perfect fun.

What this book is about: Claudia and Jeremy are a mid-thirties almost-power couple. You'd think an up and coming movie director and a minor rock star would be able to buy a $600,000 house in the Hollywood hills and live happily ever after, right? The earthquake that rattles their foundation is as nothing when compared to the real estate crash that follows. The ensuing panic sends each of them back to their roots: Claudia the Midwesterner makes to-do lists and compromises, Jeremy the nomad itches to cut their losses and flee. Add an exotic ex-girlfriend, odd roommate, visiting in-laws...

This novel has a great, indeterminate ending. I hate it when all the loose ends are tied up and nothing is left to the imagination.

Here are Janelle's five top picks for novels about/set in California. And for good measure, here are her next five.

e squared: a novel, by Matt Beaumont

2010-06-27T20:17:00.000-07:00

Oh, sequels.

First, the things I really like about this follow-up to the hilarious e: Rather than telling the story purely through email messages, Matt Beaumont has added blog posts and IM messages to the mix in this second novel of ad-agency as microcosm. His take on post-modern office excesses are hilarious, featuring an extreme-sports crazed partner, a staff hairdresser, and decor that includes an isolation tank. Again, the author manages to distill the personalities of his characters merely through their electronic communications, both personal and professional. Which is still an amazing feat.

What kept me from enjoying this book as much as its predecessor is its over-the-top-and-then-some plot lines. I started rolling my eyes about a third of the way in, which impacted my ability to care much about the outcome. I did, however, read it pretty avidly right to the end; silly entertainment is one of the things I appreciate in literature. Read it if you're up for a farce and don't really care how far your suspension of disbelief is stretched.

Where I heard about this book: I sought it out after reading e, which I loved.

What I thought of this book: Pretty good. 3 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: It's a satire of modern life, set in a London ad agency. It features several of the characters from the previous book, but adds a lot of great new ones.

I want that job

2010-06-23T22:28:00.000-07:00

I was just at the Multnomah County Library website, making sure that I have enough books on hold to ensure the next month's reading. I looked up The Lonely Polygamist (which, incidentally, looks like a really entertaining read) and found this in the info section:

Subject:

Middle-aged men -- Fiction.
Polygamy -- Fiction.
Bereavement -- Psychological aspects -- Fiction.
Families -- Fiction.

Who, I wonder, gets to choose these subject headings for the books in the catalog? Are they provided by the publisher, or culled from reviews, or are they the result of careful study of the works? Probably the first, but I will fantasize that there is a bookworm out there who gets to spend her time reading whatever she wants, then chooses how each book should be classified.

As it turns out, these lists are searchable, sort of like labels on blogs. I would certainly have spent a chunk of time viewing all the fiction that is categorized as 'Middle-aged men'; however there were not many titles listed. (Hard to believe, surely ought to be reformed.) 'Polygamist - Fiction' looks a little meatier, and may provide some inspiration for future reading lists...

I move that a Federal Department of Categorization of Literature be formed immediately, and I humbly nominate myself as its head honcho.

Uglies, by Scott Westerfeld

2010-06-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

After my last taste of YA fiction, I thought I'd stick with it for a while. This one was a really fun read, though I wouldn't rank it among the YA greats.

Where I heard about this book: My 12 year old just finished it and loved it.

What I thought of this book: Good. 3 1/2 stars

What this book is about: Set in the future, Uglies is a combination coming-of-age/redemption story. In a bid to level the playing field among humans, the powers that be have developed a surgery that makes everyone equally gorgeous. These newly formed 'pretties' are then sent to the city to party their lives away.

Tally is still an ugly, eagerly awaiting her 16th birthday, when she will be made pretty. Enter Shay, another on-the-cusp ugly who would rather run away than submit to the operation. The girls bond over the joys of being adventurous-but-not-really-bad teens, including out-of-bounds hoverboarding; a kind of skateboarding done midair. Tally wants to be pretty, however, and has no interest in joining her friend on a perilous journey to the the countryside to live with a mythological band of rebels. She is ultimately forced (by evil authority figures) to betray her friends, and then turns around and does her best to save them.

This novel has a little bit of everything that makes YA great: adventure, best friends, romance, normal kids who act heroic, and a celebration of nonconformity. It reminded me of what I loved about literature as a child. I would spend hours imagining myself inside my favorite books, usually as an additional character I'd invented, spinning my own subplots. While reading Uglies, I started to picture myself joining in with Tally and her friends as they peformed 'tricks' and hoverboarded around the city. Much as I love grown-up books, I rarely get his feeling of wanting to be part of the action.

Uglies was intended to be the first in a trilogy. The series has now expanded to four books. The author's website describes the newest as the 'last in the series'. I wouldn't run out and get the others, but if they appear on our bookshelves I'll read them.

Elizabeth Costello, by J. M. Coetzee

2010-06-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

I slogged through about 50 pages of this book before throwing in the towel. I kept hoping that the story would take center stage, and the long musings on literary theory would come to an end. Alas, this is a book about a writer's writing, more than about a writer's life. Turns out I'm not all that interested in the study of literature, I just like reading it.

Get out your flashlight..

2010-06-08T17:51:00.000-07:00

I almost hesitate to recommend this site, because it is sure to be blamed for hours of procrastination. But since you're going to waste those hours websurfing anyway, why not spend them here?

Flashlight worthy books has reading lists for every subject imaginable, as well as lists of favorite books by authors we admire. I love their categories - these lists are for readers of every kind of literature, not just the critically acclaimed, but they are still "best of." My current favorite is: Books That Make My Brain Melt (In a Good Way). Isn't that enticing? In fact, I want to read every book on this list. Except for the one about banking...

Wayward Women: Great Books Where Women Hit The Road is another I had to check out. After a while I started to feel like my brain might explode as I tried to calculate how many books I can read in the remainder of my lifetime. And oops, it's time to go and I never did fold that laundry.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie

2010-06-01T13:56:00.000-07:00

Odd, the way you'll read a book and then immediately find another similarly-themed one. This is my second-in-a-row fictional autobiography that is based pretty closely on the life of the author. And I'm pleased to say that it was every bit as good as the last one. Whenever I read really great YA fiction, I wonder why I don't spend more time reading really great YA fiction. It is often so much more satisfying than grown-up lit.

Where I heard about this book: Tessa, greatest officemate ever.

What I thought of this book: Fantastic! 5 stars and many moons!

What this book is about: This is the diary of a misfit 14 year-old Indian. He's already an outcast on the rez, so it doesn't seem that things could be much worse at the area's only good high school. Except that it is populated exclusively by white kids who aren't too fond of Indians. And his fellow Indians consider his bid for a better life a betrayal. Nevertheless, Junior grabs what may be his only chance to escape a future of alcoholism and despair. This is one of those amazing books that makes you laugh even as it's breaking your heart. The hero is funny and honest and self-deprecating and extremely likable.

Requiem, Mass. by John Dufresne

2010-05-30T12:44:00.000-07:00

I wish I knew how to describe John Dufresne's style, because it is my favorite kind of writing. It's fast and furious, and a little disjointed, sort of like a busy Saturday morning with lots of coffee. I devoured this book, both because I loved it, and because I felt like I had to read really fast to keep up.

Where I heard about this book: I found it on the library shelves. With a name like that, who could resist?

What I thought of this book: Terrific. 4 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: Wow. Hard to distill. It's told from the point of view of a middle-aged author, who originally writes the story as fiction, then is convinced to take the plunge, admit it's a memoir, and use real names, places and events. It follows his childhood in a wildly dysfunctional but entertaining extended family. This story is interspersed with segments of the protagonist's adult life. I must admit that I considered a few of these me-as-an-adult sections to be unwelcome distractions from the more compelling story of his childhood. My only other complaint about the novel is that there were so many characters that I had trouble keeping them all straight, particularly the family whose names are all colors. Otherwise this was a thoroughly enjoyable book.

I discovered that the main character in Requiem, Mass., Johnny, bears more than a passing resemblance to John Dufresne. I love the way the author talks, in interviews, about memoir and fiction. I'm paraphrasing here, but in essence he says that memoir is always half-truth, as memory is unreliable at best, and always biased. Fiction, he maintains, is in many respects more truthful; an author knows his characters better than he can ever know himself, and events are crisply imagined, not dulled by hazy recollection.

Here is an interview transcript I really enjoyed - John Dufresne sounds like someone who is easy to talk to; a serious writer who describes his profession in terms the rest of us can understand.

Nocturnes, by Kazuo Ishiguro

2010-05-28T20:59:00.000-07:00

Ordinarily, when I am engrossed in good fiction, the author is far from my mind. While reading Ishiguro, however, I often picture the author. I can't help thinking that he must be an interesting dinner companion; he is so well-spoken, and in photographs and interviews appears neat and relaxed, but there's a seriously whacked sensibility under that proper exterior. Then I read an interview with him in which he described his "buttoned-up unreliable narrators." Hmmm, perhaps I am confusing him with his characters. Still, I love that his writing is so elegant and simple and accessible, and yet off-beat.

Where I heard about this book: Everywhere.

What this book is about: Great. 4 stars.

What this book is about: 5 stories about evening and music. They are longish, and were conceived as a group - there is more holding them together than the shared theme of music. As per Ishiguro, they evoke a sense of melancholy. The whole is more, to me, like a jazz album than a classical one. There is the uptempo section and the slower, sadder riff. The overall impression is that humans are prone to folly, but can create a little magic while falling on their faces.

Amsterdam, by Ian McEwan

2010-05-01T21:11:00.000-07:00

A pox on large print! I somehow ended up with the easy-to-read edition of this book, and felt shouted at the entire time I was reading it. I am trying to blame that for my huge disappointment in this novel. Which is sort of interesting, given all this Kindle debate - does the delivery system affect one's enjoyment of the product? Hard to say definitively; I've never read a book on a Kindle, and honestly I've always figured it wouldn't make much difference to me. But if I ever get a LARGE PRINT book again I will be tempted to send it back and wait for the original.

Sadly, I really don't think it would have helped to have a brand new, signed, hardbound copy. Ian McEwan is one of my favorite authors, I adore Booker Prize winners... what can I say? I figured I would love this book. Instead, it seemed contrived, predictable and silly, though amusing at times. It is interesting to me that I feel just a tiny bit guilty disliking an award-winning work by a writer I like so much. Kind of like seeing my child's artwork pinned up on the classroom wall and thinking that the lines are awkward and the colors clash.

Where I heard about this book: Trying to catch up on all things McEwan.

What I thought of this book: Sigh. 3, no, 2 1/2 stars. He is a good writer.

What this book is about: A satire about two old friends who reconnect at a funeral. Over the course of subsequent weeks they make one another a promise, get angry, forgive, get angry again, and come up with a ridiculous plot for revenge. What exactly is being satirized? The press, politicians, celebrities; the usual suspects. I'm glad it was short - I probably would have made myself finish no matter the length.

Here is a new book website I've found. It's got review summaries, a review consensus, and a list of grades from various respected sources. Kind of like the rotten tomatoes of books. They describe their site as follows:

A selectively comprehensive, objectively opinionated survey of books old and new, trying to meet all your book review, preview, and information needs.

Which would make me obsolete, to say the least, but check them out, anyway.

This is what I found there for Amsterdam.

Moonlight In Odessa, by Janet Skeslien Charles

2010-04-18T19:45:00.000-07:00

I may just have found my new favorite sub-genre: mail-order bride fiction.

Where I heard about this book: Found it while browsing at the library.

What I thought of this book: Fun! 3 1/2 stars

What this book is about: A feisty intelligent young woman in Odessa seeks both a future in America and a loving husband, so naturally she ends up dating Americans on wife-finding junkets. This is good chick lit - it's got all the elements of a cheesy romance novel, but is much better. The heroine is great, the writing is good. What makes the book really stand out is the description of life in post-Soviet Russia. The phrase "as we say in Odessa" became slightly tiresome after a while, but this glimpse into the life of a modern Russian woman was fascinating. As with all formulaic novels, the obvious plot twists take some forbearance, but it's a quick and entertaining enough read that the reader doesn't get too bogged down. I'd recommend this for airplanes, beaches or sick days.

Here's an interesting look at several covers designs for the novel - the ones that were used in different countries, the one that wasn't chosen - a part of the novel that impacts the readers, but to which we rarely pay much attention.

Expecting Adam: A True Story of Birth, Rebirth, and Everyday Magic, by Martha N. Beck

2010-04-18T16:50:00.000-07:00

Let's hear it for everyone who did not go to Harvard! According to this book, it is a wretched place full of striving, uncaring people, which will turn you into a workaholic automaton. I wonder if Martha Beck, in her current enlightened state, would now find that Cambridge is full of self-reflective loving people looking for the same. It strikes me that she was not exactly inviting joy and empathy into her life while she was there. She did, however, learn to look past academic success to the greater joys of being human.

Where I heard about this book: Anne again!

What I thought of this book: Very interesting and a quick and compelling read. 4 stars.

What this book is about: An insanely busy PhD student and her even busier husband discover that she is pregnant with a Down syndrome baby. They both have a lot of paranormal experiences, which she chalks up to the unborn child attracting angels, positive energy, call it what you will. This book is about letting go of societal standards of success, and enjoying and appreciating life as it is. Ironically, I read this book when I was sick; I should have just stayed in bed and rested until I was healthy, but kept trying to return to work, which made me sicker. Which just goes to show the importance of the author's message - letting go of productivity-at-any-cost really is good for you. Alas, it can be hard to do. Martha Beck and her husband really struggle with this throughout the book.

Martha Beck is now a life coach and motivational writer. She has other books, most of which don't interest me all that much; they are very much in the self-help genre, which I generally avoid like the plague. This one, however, looks interesting - Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith. I am a sucker for this kind of memoir, if well-written.

e by Matt Beaumont

2010-04-17T18:36:00.000-07:00

If I were to return to school and slog my way through a PhD so that I could teach literature, my specialty would definitely be office lit. Come to think of it, having just such an odd specialty might help snag me a place in a PhD program... But no, I am a happy amateur reader. And happy to have read this very entertaining book.

Where I heard about this book: My sister Anne and Carie, with whom I used to work at the library.

What I thought of this book: Great. 5 stars.

What this book is about: Told entirely in email, this is the story of the inner workings of an ad agency over the course of two very busy weeks. Matt Beaumont manages to create fully realized characters merely through their messages to, from and about one another. A great comic tale full of intrigue, ego, betrayal and political maneuvering, this is one of those beautifully rendered satires that remains oddly credible in spite of the outrageousness of both its characters and plot twists. Upon browsing Beaumont's website, amusingly titled letstalkaboutme.com, I've decided to put not only all of his novels on my reading list, but also every book written by his wife, Maria Beaumont.

The Rotter's Club, by Jonathon Coe

2010-04-11T17:06:00.000-07:00

I would certainly have liked this book better if I could have kept the characters straight! I'm not sure whether to lay the blame for this with my faulty memory, but somehow all of those boys-from-the-80's names sounded the same to me, and I kept having to look up which one was Doug, and which Philip and so on. I can't say that I didn't like this book, but I'm not sure what the point was. Oddly, though, when I heard that there is a sequel I was immediately interested. We'll see if I actually get around to reading it.

Where I heard about this book: My long-lost friend Mark.

What I thought of this book: Good. 3 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: A bunch of school friends in 80's Birmingham England. The story encompasses their families, which are intertwined through work and sex. The book follows the kids through high school, examining all of the usual coming-of-age themes: romance, cliques, parents, struggles to be independent. The characters are compelling, but apparently the boys are too much alike because I kept mixing them up! I would recommend this book to someone closer in age to the characters than myself.

The FInancial Lives of the Poets, by Jess Walter

2010-04-10T07:37:00.001-07:00

I always love reading novels in which I think I'd feel at home. I also love novels which are predicated on the idea that life could change into something completely unrecognizable through a series of small events and choices. Because I think that life really is like that, but is not usually written that way. This novel is both of those things. The characters are not very different from me and the people I know. And although Matthew Prior makes some eccentric decisions in his desire to fix his downward-spiraling life, his actions are not really any more bizarre than those any one of us might make when pushed to the edge by the stress of modern living.

The falling man featured on the cover of the novel is eerily similar to the one from the Mad Men intro. Coincidence, or savvy marketing? My guess is the latter. Kind of a stroke of genius, if you ask me. Here's a really great video ad for the book, along with a nice little review.

Where I heard about this book: NPR's Book Notes

What I thought of this book: Fantastic. 4 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: Matthew Prior wakes up one day to discover that he is out of a job, his wife is having a My Space affair, and his house is due for repossession within the week. Yikes. Another victim of the only-way-is-up 90's and 00's. The novel follows his increasingly misguided efforts to pull himself out of both financial and romantic ruin. This is an extremely entertaining book, with a charming character at its center. The best part, to my mind, is that every chapter begins with a poem, in a different style and structure each time.

Which brings me to Jess Walter's website. He and I clearly have similar taste in novels, so now I have even more books to add to my reading list courtesy of his Great Books sidebar. And for 2010 he is writing a haiku review of the books he likes. Which puts him squarely in the sexy authors category.

See his recommended reads and haiku (haikus?) here.

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett

2010-04-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

400-some pages have rarely flown by so quickly. I had such a hard time putting this book down - it is responsible for several later-than-intended nights. After passing this book by for weeks, I'm glad I finally picked it up. I had expected it to be depressing, but found it instead uplifting, despite several heart-wrenching scenes and the general awfulness of the theme. It struck me in the same way the show Mad Men does - I know that things were unfair and bias rampant in this era, but seeing it up close is kind of horrifying.

Where I heard about this book: My best book recommender, my sister Anne.

What I thought of this book: Great. 4 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: Set in Jackson Mississippi in the early sixties, this book describes the lives of white Southern women and their black "help". It is told in the alternating voices of three characters; one white, two black. I found each voice distinctive and authentic; this book is all about stereotypes, but the author manages to keep these people sounding realistic, if slightly exaggerated. By the end I really did have a great sense of hope for unity and the end of racism, which is in itself a pretty good reason to have read this book. I also loved how lots of subplots were woven in. Altogether the story should have been a lot less believable than it was - surely the sign of some good writing.

Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout

2010-03-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

It's annoying to dislike a book because of the way it has been marketed, but there you go. I liked several of these stories, but I really hated the conceit of stringing them together by including the title character in each. Olive Kitteredge is tangential, to say the least, in quite a few of the stories, set in a coastal town in Maine. I'm not sure why the author chose to use her as the thread - the location itself seems to me to be a much more reasonable point of connection.

So I disliked the structure, and could have done without a few of the stories. What I really liked about this book, though, was the depiction of life in a small northern town. A native of the upper reaches of New England, I am drawn to literature that describes the gritty, spectacular landscape, as well as the quirky mentality of its residents. Russell Banks does a really terrific job depicting New England in all its beauty and ugliness, as does Carolyn Chute. In Olive Kitteredge, Elizabeth Strout gives us a realistic picture of year-round life in small-town Maine.

Where I heard about this book: It won the Pulitzer last year.

What I thought of this book: Good. 3 stars.

What this book is about: A collection of short stories in which the prickly, usually unpleasant Olive Kitteredge either features or makes an appearance.

I like the subjects of love and lust as seen from the point of view of the beyond-middle-age set. There are several happy but not really all that great marriages at the heart of these stories, a topic which I always find fascinating.

Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity, by Kerry Cohen

2010-02-20T20:26:00.000-08:00

If you were the teenage girl who didn't get much attention from boys, this book will finally make you feel better about that. Otherwise, I wonder if there are any readers who won't recognize the painful yearning and stabbing self-doubt in this portrait of a girl trying to come to terms with her sexuality. Kerry Cohen describes these emotions in such a beautifully succinct manner - you don't have to be a loose girl yourself to recognize her motivation, although if you were/are you will be thrilled to finally find your experience described with such accuracy and understanding.

Where I heard about this book: Goodreads - someone else had it marked as to-read and it sounded great.

What I thought of this book: Fabulous. 5 stars.

What this book is about: The memoir of a girl who turns to promiscuity to get the attention she craves.

I love that this book is just over 200 pages, but satisfyingly spans an entire adolescence and young adulthood. I really like that the author avoided telling every excruciating detail of her life - the downfall of many an autobiography. One of my few complaints is that as Kerry grew up I kind of lost track of how old she was - did she meet her husband in her early twenties, or much later?

At first I was slightly annoyed at what I saw as glossing over the whole recovery issue; it seemed as though she just sort of got over it, which is rare with addictive/compulsive behavior. Upon further reflection, however, I realize that recovery is really boring to read about, and is in fact where many memoirs tend to bog down. So never mind.

I really haven't felt so personally touched by a memoir in years. Kerry Cohen also writes YA lit, which I'll bet is great. I like her website - see it here. And she lives in Portland! I'm very disappointed that I can't see her at Powell's this week.

We Are All Welcome Here, by Elizabeth Berg

2010-02-14T13:51:00.000-08:00

I am quite sure that I've read several books by Elizabeth Berg, but I can't for the life of me remember them! I looked at the author's own synopses, and found that only one really rang a bell. This does not in any way discount the pleasure of reading her novels; in fact I'm pleased that I get to read them for the first time all over again. This is more comfort reading for me - although the stories are often rife with illness, abuse and heartbreak, they are also somehow uplifting and give me a feeling of comfort.

We Are All Welcome Here is told from the perspective of a somewhat bratty 13 year old who lives with her disabled mother and their prickly caretaker. I loved that all of the characters are sort of cranky and annoying, particularly Diana, the daughter, and Peacie, the housekeeper/nurse/nanny. They seemed very real to me. The novel encompasses all kinds of issues, dwelling mainly on bigotry of various kinds and motherhood in all its complexity. I enjoyed it thoroughly and completely forgive the few improbable events.

Where I heard about this book: I found it when seeking comfort literature at the library.

What I thought of this book: Very satisfying. 4 stars.

What this book is about: A thirteen year old girl who lives with her quadriplegic mother, their relationship with each other and with their caretaker. Set in the sixties, it contains racism, civil rights strife, sexism, romantic yearning, classism, improbable romance... it's actually downright brimming with issues!

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

2010-02-08T17:48:00.001-08:00

This is the second book this month that I've read quite a bit of, liked a lot, and then put down. In this case, I just couldn't face the whole Jewish child during WWII thing. It is so well conceived and written that I expect to return to it at some point - maybe on a Mexican beach when I am far from my own . Not a good pick for a particularly busy and illness-filled February.

Homer and Langley, by E.L. Doctorow

2010-02-08T11:45:00.001-08:00

It is hard for me to talk about this book without overusing the word 'amazing'. I absolutely loved it. I'd been looking forward to it for months, which can of course lead to 'it's not as good as it sounded' disappointment (see Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), but I was charmed and my hope validated. I love to be reminded that there is a reason that really famous authors are so, well, famous. This is a story told by a master of the art.

Where I heard about this book: It was all over the literary news by the time it appeared on booksellers' shelves.

What I thought of this book: Perfect.

What this book is about: This is a fictionalized account of the lives of Homer and Langley Collyer. They were New York brothers famous for practically barricading themselves for decades in their Fifth Avenue mansion as it disintegrated around them. They were hoarders; after their deaths in 1947 over 130 tons of debris was removed from the house, which had to be demolished. Recluses and hoarders! Ripe fodder for fiction. The incredible thing about this novel is that it is written with such delicacy and grace. The story is told by Langley, the younger brother, who is blind. He interprets his situation without being able to see it, year after year. The eccentricities of his brother and the accumulation of objects in the house both seem somehow reasonable as told from his perspective. As I imagine is the case for any recluses and hoarders. It's the insider view that makes this story so compelling.

I am sometimes nervous about reading fictionalized accounts of history - I am afraid that I will come to believe that it is truth, and forget that a lot of it is made up. This account of the Collyer brothers may bear little resemblance to the actual men. It is, however, an accurate picture of a family. Not a normal one, but a family fueled by love and in which the quirks and oddities just play out to a more exaggerated end than for most. We should all be so lucky as to have our lives re-imagined for us by E. L. Doctorow!

Here is the Wikipedia entry for the Collyer brothers. You can see why E. L. Doctorow was inspired by their story, which is one he grew up with. I was originally captivated by the idea of recluse/hoarders, but I was unprepared for how un-sensationalist the book is. Hooray for great novels!

Have you been dying to know? The E in E.L. stands for Edgar. Using initials instead of names puts both Doctorow and Salinger firmly into my pantheon of sexy authors.

The Misalliance, by Anita Brookner

2010-01-20T14:20:00.000-08:00

Here is one of the many things I love about Anita Brookner - she didn't publish her first novel until she was 56! For those of us still hoping to make a bold and successful career move in middle age this is very heartening. Well, okay, maybe she'd already had a great academic career prior to becoming a novelist, but still...

There are many things to love about The Misalliance. Foremost is the prose, so carefully and elegantly crafted. Honestly it makes me feel smarter just to read such well-written language. This is my favorite phrase: "...vainly seeking transcendence, or at least translation, in whatever wine happened to be available that evening." I literally sighed with pleasure while reading this novel.

Second are the beautifully elucidated characters. Many are almost easy to dismiss as annoying, manipulative or arrogant. But for each there is at least one heart-twisting moment in which we see that they are flawed, and so deserve a measure of compassion.

Third is the plaintive question at the center of the book - what is it that makes men want (and continue to want) the women they choose? I happen to love novels in which the characters do a lot of soul-searching and come to many startling and profound conclusions about their personalities, so this one was right up my alley.

Where I heard about this book: I found it while browsing at the library. I'd been meaning to read something by Anita Brookner and there it was.

What I thought of this book: Great! 4 1/2 stars

What this book is about: A middle-aged, middle-class British woman who has been divorced for about a year. She struggles to fill her days with appropriate, even meaningful, activity. A chance meeting with a small child and her disorganized mother inspires her to come to some conclusions about herself and about romantic relationships in general.

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larson

2010-01-18T20:17:00.000-08:00

Honestly, I don't really get what all the fuss is about. I thought this book was good, and I love the glimpse into Swedish life, but the main mystery seemed far-fetched, and the subplots somewhat tiresome. I was enthralled by Lisbeth Salander at first, but she seemed more and more two dimensional and less and less believable as the novel progressed. In general this book was, to me, like so many thoroughbreds - quick out of the gates but slower and slower on the turns until they're merely trotting to the finish.

Where I heard about this book: Umm... everywhere?

What I thought of this book: It was good. 3 1/2 stars.

What this book is about: A murder mystery set in Sweden.

Here are the two things I loved most about this book: The author pays homage to his favorite crime writers by mentioning that the main character is reading their books. This same character is constantly eating fantastic-sounding Swedish snacks featuring things like pickles, eggs and herring. Overall it made me really want to travel to Scandanavia; it sound gorgeous and sane, and is everyone there really so practical and smart?

The Interrogative Mood, by Padgett Powell

2010-01-04T12:57:00.000-08:00

Where did Padgett Powell learn to form such elegant sentences, interrogative or otherwise? When reading such beautifully crafted prose it is a toss-up, to me, whether the joy resides in the story or the language itself. That said, this book has no story. It consists of 164 pages of questions; the reader must decide whether or not there is a narrative contained within this structure.

Where I heard about this book: It got a lot of press when it came out, and I've now heard and read about it in various places, though I have yet to speak to anyone else who has read it.

What I thought of this book: I loved it. Many stars.

What this book is about: Difficult to say. I would say that it is equally about the author and the reader, without any pesky characters interfering. The questions posed cover a wide variety of topics, some of which come up repeatedly. They are particular to the author, and to the era in which he has lived, and will be of varying relevance and interest to his audience. An inherent dialogue is formed between reader and writer that is unusual in a novel. These questions do not necessarily beg answers; I found that there were some I pondered, some I merely noted, and many that stirred thoughts that I didn't take much time to examine as I flew past to the next.

* A note a week after reading this book: It won't leave me alone! It pops into my head at least once, often several, times a day. Love books with staying power...

Here's and interview with the man himself embedded in a story about the book.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, by Jean-Dominique Bauby

2010-01-03T19:44:00.000-08:00

This is one of my very favorite books. If I had my way this would be required reading for everyone, as lessons in both elegant use of language and grace under extreme circumstances.

I recently bought this for a friend, and as it's quite small I was able to read it again in just a few hours. I must have first read it soon after it came out, in 1997. In fact I have it firmly intertwined with memories of my first home in Portland, but as the book was not yet published when I lived there that must be yet another unintentional autobiographical falsification. Or hallucination? I do remember quite clearly being devastated upon learning that Bauby had died soon after the book was published.

Where I heard about this book: Hard to say, after all these years, but most likely NPR.

What I thought of this book: At the risk of being effusive, I think that it is worthy of all the stars in the firmament.

What this book is about: It is the memoir of a man who has suffered a stroke. He is completely intact mentally and emotionally, but is only able to communicate with the world by blinking one eye. He's got a lot to say, but must spell it out painstakingly letter by letter with the help of an assistant. Making him one of the great editors of all time.

City of Thieves, by David Benioff

2009-12-28T14:55:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm messing with the dates here - that's what happens when you're vacationing in a spot with only dial-up internet service! Lots of reading, no posting.

David Benioff is living some kind of charmed and charming life. Talented, handsome, well-paid, respected and sought after. And married to a movie star... Well, as I tell my children almost daily, there is no parity in life.

A quick note on the premise of the book: it is not in fact written about the author's grandfather, that is merely a device to get the story rolling.

Where I heard about this book: Kyle, who I work with, raved about this novel recently. I remembered reading about it, as well, so I rushed right out and put it on hold at the library. Lucky for me I was at the top of the list.

What I thought of this book: I loved it. 5 stars. It's the perfect war novel; it contains disturbing scenes of barbarism and despair, and yet somehow leaves you feeling optimistic about the fate of humanity. I'm pretty suspicious of anything that smacks of a happy ending. This book ends on a high note that rings real and true despite being unlikely, but is sad enough to satisfy. Just what fiction is supposed to do! (It's set during World War Two, for heaven's sake. In Russia.)

What this book is about: Two extremely young men are caught during the Leningrad siege for unremarkable crimes, and instead of being summarily shot are given 5 days to find a dozen eggs. For the wedding cake of a general's daughter. This during a period when the population is living on library paste and sawdust... What follows are their adventures while on this quest. This is really a story of an unlikely friendship, with an exceptionally vivid and well-drawn backdrop.

Here's a great interview with David Benioff about the book, but I'd wait until after reading the novel to peruse it - lots of spoilers.

The Book Thief, by Travis McDade

2009-12-26T17:47:00.000-08:00

No, the OTHER Book Thief. This one is a true account of a guy who stole a lot of books. And maps, and manuscripts, and letters.

What I thought of this book: Well, I liked it okay. Maybe about 3 stars. Maybe only 2 1/2. I did finish it, which I won't if I really don't like the book. Except for the chapter which describes, in exhaustive detail, the history and philosophy of sentencing guidelines. I skipped most of that. I think that this would have been a great long article, rather than short book. It also could have used a really talented editor. And maybe a slightly less biased author. On the other hand, this is a really interesting story, one I'm glad to have discovered.

Where I heard about this book: I saw it in the library catalog as I was placing a hold on the Markus Zusak book of the same name.

What this book is about: This is the story of a man called, among other things, Daniel Spiegelman. A canny criminal and apparently all-around unpleasant character who managed to steal hundreds of documents from the rare books library at Columbia. The book describes the crime and the efforts of both librarians and law enforcement to determine who he was and how he'd managed to steal so much stuff without detection. A great deal of the book is given over to the sentencing trial, which takes place in several segments over the course of a year. This leads to an interesting discussion of whether rare and ancient manuscripts should be valued above what they could get in the marketplace. Does the theft of these types of items deprive the world of an opportunity for scholarship that outweighs their mere cash value? The presiding judge in this case seemed to think so.

I Am The Messenger, by Markus Zusak

2009-12-20T10:09:00.000-08:00

Here's one of the things I love about YA fiction. Being kind of obvious is perfectly acceptable. Not that there isn't plenty of subtlety in this genre, but it's okay in YA lit to state things simply and elevate underlying themes to the surface. I find it both relaxing and refreshing.

What I thought of this book: 4 1/2 stars

Where I heard about this book: My sister Sarah Jane is the queen of YA literature. Her recommendations are always great. Including this one.

What this book is about: A 19 year old boy, living in on the wrong side of the tracks somewhere on the outskirts of Sydney. He considers himself hopeless and pathetic and without a discernible future. Through the magic of fiction, he is given the chance to prove that he is in fact capable, compassionate, and basically the kind of guy we'd all like to be related to.

Ed Kennedy may be my favorite character of the year. This book is charming; the combination of hard realism and magical realism is one that works surprisingly well. Although I have "The Book Thief" on my reading list, I'm now even more interested in Zusak's other books, which also feature young down-on-their-luck men.

MORE Neil Gaiman

2009-12-19T19:54:00.001-08:00

Here's a great piece in which my perennial favorite Neil Gaiman tackles the question "Can you say you've read a book when you've listened to the audio version?" He interviews other authors in his quest for the answer, including the always hilarious David Sedaris.

Swimming, by Nicola Keegan

2009-12-10T21:06:00.001-08:00

This book has the distinction of having an acknowledgment section which is every bit as entertaining as the story itself. Not to mention thought-provoking - who is this guy she raves about and to whom she promises forever, when her husband gets only a brief mention?

What I thought of this book: 5 stars!

Well, maybe 4 7/8. I started to slip slightly near the end, but that may be more my pathological hatred of endings than any fault of the author.

Where I heard about this book: I can't remember! It was on my goodreads to-read list, so probably one of my friends recommended it.

What this book is about: A swimmer. A very, very good swimmer, who encounters more than her fair share of personal tragedy at a young age. It's about her growing up, about the people who help her grow up, and about how she manages the complicated reality of being grown up.

Swimming is a near-perfect combination of character, story and style. In a speech about the book, Nicola Keegan says that she tried to hate one of her characters, but that an "underlying rushing river of goddamn compassion" overtook her. Which to my mind is how authors should feel about their characters: it is what keeps them (the characters) from being two-dimensional. The story is engaging and feels to me like real life, with all its attendant stops and starts and wonderings and frights. It is the writing that shines above all - Keegan has a truly unique voice - I could have read this book for weeks.

Here's a piece she wrote about writing the book. That's convoluted, I know, but it will give you a sense of her terrific style.

Labor Days: An Anthology of Fiction About Work, David Gates, Editor

2009-12-04T10:26:00.000-08:00

4 stars!

This is a really fun book I came across while trying to fill out November's books about work series. I did manage to finish it on the 30th, so the month timed out just perfectly.

This is a collection of stories and book fragments, all taking place at or centered around work. A departure from the purely office fiction of the rest of the month, these pieces look at all kinds of work, much of it physical labor. They span time periods, class and styles. I read most of them, skimmed a few, skipped a couple. I was reminded of some old favorites and read a few authors whose work I'd like to pursue - the ultimate joy of anthology.

Here's what I learned about work this month:

1. Everyone has to do it - even those who don't really seem to work at all have at least to manage those who do the work.

2. Even if you don't feel that your job defines you, you do spend the better part of your waking life at it. Ultimately that has an enormous effect on the hours you spend living your "real life".

3. The people you work with often have a greater influence on you than the job itself.

4. Most people consider their work to be important, no matter what it is, and derive a great sense of pride and worth from accomplishing it.

Then We Came To The End, Joshua Ferris

2009-11-27T09:02:00.000-08:00

3 1/2 stars

4th in the novels set at work series. You will feel like you are working with these people, for better or for worse.

This first novel generated a lot of buzz before it ever came out. A lot of that buzz centered on the fact that it is written in the first person plural. This 'we' is appropriate to the denizens of the office, though I think that to some extent it kept me from really forming an attachment to many of them. There is also no back story to any of the characters - we just jump into their lives midstream. Again, this is very effective in demonstrating the notion that we don't really know our colleagues as entire people, we just know their at-work personae.

I wanted to love this book, but found that I couldn't quite get there. Pretty much everyone who reviewed it raved about it, which always makes me think I must be missing something if I don't, too. It is entertaining. I was slightly relieved by the middle section, which is told in the third person and is plot-driven - regular novel style. When I came to the end, I found I cared more for the individuals than I would have originally believed.

Here's an interview with Joshua Ferris about the book.

The Office of Desire, Martha Moody

2009-11-17T15:50:00.000-08:00

4 stars!

#3 in my 'books set at the office' series.

This book has it all! Religious fanaticism, odd sexual pairings, death, betrayal, amputation... Somehow Martha Moody manages to make all of these elements seem pretty reasonable despite them all happening to a mere 6 people in the course of about a year.

Told from the perspectives of two of the characters, this is a fun and quick read. I like that these co-workers are intrinsically wound into each other's lives, but have almost no relationship outside of the office. It explores the idea that the people one works with and the atmosphere of the workplace have a huge impact on one's life, without necessarily having much influence at all after 5 0'clock.

Martha Moody is a physician as well as a writer - a combination I always find devastatingly seductive. She has also found the energy to raise four sons - proving yet again that doctors are confirmed overachievers.

The Gum Thief, by Douglas Coupland

2009-11-14T20:47:00.000-08:00

4 stars!

#2 in my 'books set at the office' series

Book two in the November 'novels set at work' series. Leave it to Douglas Coupland to write from the heart of the zeitgeist. What should seem like satire in his hands reads like realism. And so we find our two characters, unlikely allies, working at a Staples 'office superstore', and pretty much hating life. The cast expands to include family members and so-called friends, and there is also a novel-within-the-novel, which mirrors the, um, outer novel.

The entire book is told through letters, diary entries, and chapters of the protagonist's own book. This kind of self-evaluative narration works really well. The characters are allowed to speak for themselves with unsophisticated, bitter honesty.

They are, in fact, are so eerily real and devastatingly unhappy that I was ready to down a few thousand vodka tonics myself just to keep up. Luckily, Coupland skillfully pulls us all back from the brink without giving in to a pat and happy ending. Everyone experiences a little redemption, but we're all still broke and unsatisfied, living in soulless modern western culture... A good book to read during misery-inducing November.

Douglas Coupland's new book Generation A is going to hit bookstores soon; I'm adding both it and Generation X to my list. A is not so much a sequel, apparently, as a similarly structured story set 20 years after X.

I found this on Coupland's homepage:
Douglas Coupland has no facebook or myspace page.

He does, however, have a twitter account. Here's my favorite post:

Hit by scary mood jitters that come every fall/winter; the seasonal depression thing. That it's predictable makes it somehow stupider.

Personal Days, by Ed Park

2009-11-09T15:04:00.000-08:00

3 stars

I'm devoting November to books that take place primarily in offices. First up: Personal Days, by Ed Park.

Richard Russo, who is one of my very favorite authors, recommended this book in some interview or other, so of course I was determined to love it. Which serves as a reminder that taste is a strange and subjective thing.

This book is divided into three parts - the first is the blog I would like to claim authorship of if I worked in soulless corporate America (which thankfully I do not). The second is slightly more story-driven, with longer entries, for lack of a better word. This section features a Byzantine outline formula that I was completely unable to fathom (perhaps because I am wholly unfamiliar with office-place organizational practices). The last section is a rambling stream-of-consciousness email from one character to another.

The changes in narrative style are, I think, where I got lost. Google reveals that most reviewers of this book loved it, and pretty much everyone but me thinks it is a kind of fable of the lay-off era. I found the all-is-revealed final chapter incredibly far-fetched. I suppose this is common in fables, but for me didn't really work in this otherwise just-like-your-job-but-worse chronicle.

After the Fire, a Still Small Voice, by Evie Wylde

2009-11-01T12:38:00.000-08:00

5 stars!

This was an impulse pick - I chose it for the title, and because it's set in Australia. What an incredible find! It' a first novel, described by the author herself as a "romantic thriller about men who don't talk". That's a fairly apt description; these men don't talk much, but they sure do feel.

The story moves back and forth between father and son. This is a construction that in my opinion can be very confusing and interrupting, but here it really does serve to illustrate a generational legacy of sorrow and isolation. I was riveted.

Here is a clip of Evie Wylde talking about the experiences she had as a child visiting family in Australia, which inspired the book. It's about 5 minutes long; she is charming.

The Sisters Grimm by Michael Buckley

2009-10-28T16:28:00.000-07:00

4 1/2 stars!

I started reading this book to my 8 year old daughter, a chapter at a time before bed. Soon she was so engrossed that she started reading ahead whenever she got the chance. Two days later she was done and I was dying to know what happened to the plucky heroines!

This is a great twist on the orphaned children genre. Not only does it feature a pair of self-sufficient girls brimming with chutzpah, but there is magic aplenty. (I think that's a required ingredient for kid's lit these days.) Buckley has the tone down perfectly - the book is just scary and complex enough for an audience of children, and never patronizing. He manages to set the stage for a whole lot of sequels without leaving his audience hanging.

This, however, may be the greatest thing about the Grimm sisters series - they have a theme song! This may be the direct result of the movie making machine that will soon engulf this lovely group of books. I am generally not a fan of making terrific kids books into movies, because I have such a strong bias about reading versus watching. This book, however, would make a really great movie in the hands of a good director.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

2009-10-24T11:08:00.000-07:00

Neil Gaiman is dishy, talented and prolific. He's one of the guys responsible for making geeky the new sexy. Think of him as a handsomer, less creepy Stephen King.

What I thought of this book: 4 stars!

Where I heard about this book: My friend Mark recommended it to me a year or so ago, and then, as often happens, it kept coming up at odd moments. I found a used copy while shopping for a birthday present, which just goes to show that I should go to book stores more often.

What this book is about: A man leaves prison, and seems to hover between life and death as he is shuttled about by gods trying to reestablish their shattered domains in the new world.

Check out this video of Neil on the Colbert Report. He's self-possessed and funny.

And have you seen his bookshelves? Look at his personal library and swoon!

I have a tiny pet peeve about books set in places that are not native to the author. Often when I read books by British writers that are set in America, I catch little Britishisms that, like catching your sweater on a splinter, interrupt the flow of the book. In the nearly 600 pages of American Gods, I didn't find a single one. A small thing, I know, but it really sums up what makes this book so good - the story and the characters stay true to themselves and don't go wandering off where they have no business.

Shadow, the protagonist, is a hero by any definition. He's exactly the guy you'd want by your side in any conflict - large, strong, clear-headed, unafraid of pain or death. And he has an unwavering moral compass. His apparent lack of faults isn't annoying because he's so busy being kicked around that you forget that he's nearly perfect. That, and he doesn't seem all that happy, which pretty much makes up makes up for his having no irritating personal habits.

I love the idea that America is a bad place for gods, and that while most immigrants thrive and prosper here, gods are doomed to be first marginalized, and then forgotten altogether. This is a story that examines modern American culture without anyone ever turning on a laptop or sending a text message! And it's a page-turner - despite its length it's a quick and satisfying read.