summer reading, part 2: unaccustomed earth, the girl with the dragon tattoo, and march

Unaccustomed Earth, by Jhumpa Lahiri

(333 pages, 2008 - paperback)

Jhumpa Lahiri (The Namesake, Interpreter of Maladies) is a writer of meticulously crafted, melancholic stories of Bengali Indians in America. Many of her characters are second generation Bengalis, so it comes as little surprise that identity, exile, acceptance, culture and family are common themes. In that way, Unaccustomed Earth - a collection of five short stories and one novella told in three parts - doesn't really break new ground. The stories focus on the family lives of first and second generation immigrants living in the East Coast, many of whom - despite their PhDs from Ivy League universities - struggle to understand themselves and those closest to them. They are precise, beautiful, and written with an expert hand; however, very similar to her previous work. If you have not yet read Lahiri (and you should) then Unaccustomed Earth is a wonderful place to begin, but for those already familiar, don't expect anything particularly innovative here. I'm curious what would happen if she'd stretch her wings to write about something other than Bengalis...

My Grade: A-

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson

(590 pages, 2008 - translated copy, paperback)

I adore a good murder mystery, and the late Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - though not perfect - is a pretty good addition to the genre. Investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist finds himself accused and convicted of libel after pushing a little too hard against a too powerful tycoon. Shamed and stripped of his journalistic powers, he accepts a job investigating the forty-year-old mysterious disappearance of Harriet Vanger, niece of one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in Sweden. Harriet's disappearance is a play on a classic locked-room mystery - she disappeared off a island that, due to a major auto accident on a bridge, was sealed off from the mainland. An intense search ensued, yet no body or clues surfaced, the case went cold, and was Harriet was all but forgotten. That is, of course, until Henrik Vanger hires Blomkvist to look at the case with a new set of eyes. What follows is a nasty little mystery full of twists, turns, and and heaping helping of misogyny.

Larsson originally titled this book "Men Who Hate Women," which is a terrible title for a book, however apt for the story he tells. With the exception of one or two characters, the men in this novel are hateful and violent, and several of them are just plain sadistic. The violence depicted in this book is enough to make many readers squirmy; however, I eat episodes of American Justice for breakfast, so that's not my big complaint. My criticism is that, although the middle of this novel was totally gripping, the beginning was tedious and the ending lazy. That said, trust that I will soonly be reading the hell out of The Girl Who Played with Fire, the second book in this trilogy. Larsson's writing may not be perfect, but he hooked me. He hooked me good.

My Grade: B-

March, by Geraldine Brooks

(280 pages, 2005 - paperback)

I must have been nine or ten-years-old when 'Santa' left me a copy of Little Women under the Christmas tree. It was love at first read, and I can't think of a book I've loved as well or read as often. And I know I'm not alone here, ladies. Little Women is one of the most beloved books in American literature, so writing its sequel is an incredibly risky endeavor. I can think of so many ways that March could have failed, but instead Brooks managed to not only capture Alcott's magic, but add depth and dimension to her classic novel. Perhaps it's because Brooks - rather than focusing on the March children - decided to tell an entirely new version of the story by focusing on the family's patriarch instead.

March is the story of Mr. March, an ardent abolitionist who volunteers himself as a chaplain in the Union army at the "ripe old age" of 43. March's source material offers very little of Mr. March's Civil War experience other than a few upbeat letters written before an illness forced him to prematurely return home. Brooks takes these vague details and uses them to create a masterful piece of historical fiction. Unlike the version in Alcott's original, this Mr. March is flawed, vulnerable and fully fleshed-out. And unlike many Civil War stories, Brooks's characters are a far cry from their Uncle Tom's Cabin-esque stereotypes. I normally shy away from historical fiction, but March breathes life into what can be a dense and stale genre. March won the Pulitzer Prize in 2006, and it absolutely deserved it. I cannot recommend this novel enough.

My Grade: A

summer reading, part 1: the yiddish policemen's union, atonement, and new moon

Seeing how my reading of books has recently far out-paced my reviewing of them, I'm attempting to catch up with three mini reviews today and three more to follow shortly. Mea culpa for my tardiness, and enjoy your weekend, sweetness.

The Yiddish Policemen's Union, by Michael Chabon

(418 pages, 2007 - paperback)

You may remember that I finally read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay last summer and loved it so much that it's now safely on the short list of my all-time favorite books. Eager to read more Chabon this summer, I dusted off my unread copy of The Yiddish Policemen's Union and hoped that it was at least half as good as "Kavalier and Clay." And half as good is about right.

Perhaps the best thing about this book is its premise. The Yiddish Policemen's Union is a noir murder mystery set in an alternate world where Jewish refugees have set up camp in Sitka, a long strip of land along Alaska's panhandle, after the 1948 collapse of the state of Israel. Although the settlement is a massive success, the land is merely on loan from the U.S. government, so when the government suddenly decides to let the lease expire, the Jews of Sitka find themselves turned away from yet another home.

As the novel begins, Reversion is just around the corner and washed-up homicide detective Meyer Landsman has discovered that a murder has taken place in the flea-bitten hotel he's been living in since his divorce. Perhaps because every aspect of Landsman's life has turned disastrous, he becomes obsessed with solving the murder of his neighbor - a former chess prodigy who was once widely thought to be the Messiah. It's a mystery that no one seems to want solved but Landsman, but with little else to live for, it's a mystery that Landsman feels he must solve regardless the cost.

Again, the best thing about The Yiddish Policemen's Union is how imaginative it is, though that's hardly the only thing its got going in its favor. It's also quite funny in parts, a poignant love story, and a nice little mystery. Does it reach the heights Chabon achieved with "Kavalier and Clay"? No. But is it worth your time just the same? Sure. I'd say so.

My Grade: B

Atonement, by Ian McEwan

(351 pages, 2001)

Ian McEwan is one of those authors I've long been embarrassed at having never read, so when I found a hardcover copy of Atonement on sale for $2 at a used book store, I figured his time had finally come. And wow. I've been missing out.

By now I'm sure that most of you have seen the recent film adaptation of McEwan's novel, so I won't bother with too much plot summary. Basically, 13-year-old Briony Tallis, a girl who lives and breathes stories, is confused by something she sees between her sister Cecilia and Robbie Turner, the housekeeper's son. When something much more deviant happens later that evening, Briony points an accusing finger at innocent Robbie and spends the rest of her life trying to atone for her crime.

Since Atonement was such a wonderful film, I almost made the mistake of passing on the source material. How I forgot the golden rule that the book is almost definitely better than the movie, I do not know. McEwan's Atonement is a masterpiece - gorgeously written, a successful experiment of structure and perspective, and a impressively accurate portrayal of the inner workings of a thirteen-year-old girl. Additionally, it's a true testament to the author's storytelling abilities that, having seen the film, I already knew what was coming, and yet I still found the plot absolutely engrossing. Simply put, Atonement is a freaking great book. There's only so many ways I can say it.

My Grade: A

New Moon, by Stephanie Meyer

(563 pages, 2006 - paperback)

Say what you will about me, but I ain't no book snob. I will read almost anything. I guess I'd rather be a part of the conversation than be able to claim some sort of literary purity. Enter New Moon. Now, if you ask my students about New Moon, they'd probably say something like, "Squee! Team Edward! Team Jacob! Like, ZOMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But they're largely crazy people, so let me lay some truth on you instead.

Twilight is not a very good book for reasons I've already adequately spelled out here. But New Moon? Well, it's even worse. Meyer's writing is just as awful in this second installment, but heroine Bella is even more annoying and (I can't believe I'm saying this, by the way) the whole thing suffers from a long absence of Edward in all of his dreamy, glittering twee glory. Werewolf Jacob tries to replace him, but Edward proves to be - embarrassingly enough - irreplaceable. The Cullens are the Twilight saga, and if you send them out of town for much of the book, then New Moon is the result - boring filler while we wait for Edward to stop pouting and resume saving his bland girlfriend's life every couple of hours.

My Grade: D+

book review: lolita, by vladimir nabokov

"My heart was a hysterical unreliable organ."

I must be honest - this one took me quite a little while and left me terribly conflicted.

I've been attempting to read Lolita for years now, and took two serious attempts at it before I ultimately had to make it one of my resolution reads just so I'd finally commit to finishing the little bugger. The strange thing is that I had been sincerely enjoying Nabokov's masterpiece during all of my false starts. Each time I had found it unexpectedly funny, and the pedophilic protagonist surprisingly likable. Yet, each time and always somewhere around page 100, I'd abandon it without any particular reason. I liked it, but I couldn't bring myself to finish it. It was as simple as that.

It wasn't until this third, successful go that I understood what was holding me up: I could only truly enjoy Lolita and its notorious protagonist for as long as Humbert Humbert's lascivious desires remained vague, uncommitted longings in his head. I, perhaps better than most, understand all the arguments in Lolita's defense. Art isn't polite. Art challenges, often offends. And who would argue that Nabokov's novel isn't a work of art? It's hardly my place to presume what Nabokov's purpose was with writing Lolita, but what the novel does is challenge its reader to sympathize with a violent rapist. Quite the little mixed bag, eh?

And despite all his poise and charm, Humbert Humbert is revolting. He's a murderer who abused his first wife, plotted to kill his second, and repeatedly rapes a child. His attempt to rationalize his actions - claiming the existence of "nymphets" and painting little Lo as a flirtatious seductress - is a weak and transparent attempt to dilute the obvious truth of what happened between the two. Whether or not she was a flirt is irrelevant; Lolita was twelve years old when Humbert essentially kidnaps her and keeps her as his sexual plaything until she finally finds both the opportunity and the will to escape. Sure, Humbert is likable and tells his story with a silver tongue, but it's the nature of violent narcissists to be incredibly charming. From the moment Humbert took Lolita to bed, I had lost my ability to sympathize or find humor in his tale, and I found myself wading through the back half of the novel with a tight ball of dread festering in my belly.

And frankly, I'm a little surprised by my reaction to this book. I'm the furthest thing from a prude and I like to think it takes quite a bit to shock me, but I'd also like to think that my affections aren't so easily won, either. Certainly, it's going to take a lot more than a little charisma for me to sympathize with a skeevy pederass.

But, hey - it ain't art if it ain't challenging, right?

Lolita

Vladimir Nabokov

317 pages, 1955

monday book review: american nerd, by benjamin nugent

In American Nerd: The Story of My People, Benjamin Nugent, critically acclaimed writer, journalist, and self-proclaimed nerd, sets out to do something I’m not entirely sure has ever before been attempted – trace the history and unique characteristics of a particular subculture of people: the nerd.

Dividing his book into what is essentially two parts, Nugent first attempts to define nerdiness. He begins by challenging the standard definition of a nerd as “somebody who pursues intellectual interests at the expense of skills that are useful in social settings such as communication, fashion or physical fitness,” claiming that “nerdiness isn’t really a matter of intellectualism and social awkwardness,” but rather determined by two things: the first, being the extent to which the suspected nerd reminds one of a machine, and the second being a nerd “by sheer force of social exclusion.” He then provides a brief history of the nerd, delving into such early manifestations as Dr. Frankenstein, Mary Bennet (of Pride and Prejudice fame), and the rise of the greasy grind, or greaser. Nugent then traces Hollywood’s impact through Jerry Lewis’s character of The Nutty Professor and Bill Murray and Gilda Radner’s “Todd and Lisa” sketches from the early days of Saturday Night Live, to a more realistic depiction of the nerd in Paul Feig’s sadly short-lived television series Freaks and Geeks.

In the second half, titled “Among the Nerds”, Nugent attempts several case studies of the modern nerd, examining sub sects such as Dungeons and Dragons enthusiasts, debate teamers, the relatively cool ‘hipster’ nerd, sci-fi and fantasy fans, convention devotees, computer programmers, engineers, and Renaissance faire goers. He even delves into the impact of racism on our cultural definition, as well as exploring the connection between Asperger's Syndrome and nerdiness. This second half is also where Nugent tends to view the subject through the lens of his own personal history, sharing stories of his own nerdy childhood, as well as his recollections of several early nerd friends.

What first struck me about  American Nerd was that it wasn’t exactly what I had expected, in that I expected it to be funny. Despite what the blurbs claim, American Nerd is not a funny book. Sure, there’s the occasional humorous line, but Nugent remains fairly serious about his subject matter, and some of his personal stories are downright poignant. And although I was expecting humor, I would have happily rolled with it had I not started to notice a more pressing problem: the lack of a clear thesis (or, at least, evidence to adequately support said thesis). Aside from earlier chapters, his 'research' consists mostly of anecdotes from his real life, which would be fine, I guess, if he weren't attempting to tackle the entirety of nerd history and culture. Furthermore, and not to be hyper-critical, but it wasn’t particularly well-edited, which is sort of inexcusable for a book on nerdiness if you really think about it.

Ultimately, American Nerd felt annoyingly disjointed to me. It was as if Nugent couldn't decide what he wanted his book to be, exactly.  What began as a history of nerds later turned into a memoir of sorts, and at times almost a confessional where he attempts some sort of penance for the ills he inflicted on his former nerd friends by trading them in for some semblance of hipster nerd cred. Where I really wanted to like this book, I found myself merely tolerating it. Like a nerd lacking a socially agreed-upon set of social niceties, American Nerd left me a bit cold.

American Nerd: The Story of My People

Benjamin Nugent

2008, 224 pages

monday book review: the nimrod flipout, by etgar keret

I make no secret of the fact that I'm a huge fan of the short story. There's something uniquely satisfying for me about digesting a complete piece in a  single sitting, then possibly even re-reading it a second or third time to pick up on the subtleties I may have missed the first time through. Furthermore, I think short fiction is a true test of a writer's skill, since there's a very limited space to achieve one's purpose, construct a satisfying plot, and flesh out one's characters. I think that's what impresses me so much about Etgar Keret. What most short fiction authors can do in twelve pages, he is able to do in three. Keret possesses a sort of writerly discipline I both admire and covet. For, lo, but I do tend to be verbose.

But my failings aside, The Nimrod Flipout is one of the more unusual things I've read in quite some time, and I mean that as a high compliment. Keret's lightening-quick stories (there's 30 of them in this 167 page collection) are fairly outlandish: one man loves his beautiful girlfriend all the more for the fat, brutish man she turns into at night; a boy is desperate to cure himself of a disease that causes his parents to shrink with every inch he grows; a talking fish provides perspective to the man who had hoped to make it his supper; a father-to-be is so anxious his child won't live up to his hopes that he dreams it into a pony. Keret's imaginative, to say the least.

One may expect such bizarre premises to turn comical, and they sometimes do, but I often found myself bracing for a joke that never materialized. And this was in no way a fault. What begins as silly often turns thoughtful, poignant, or downright sad, and considerably deeper than the offbeat premise had me prepared for.  It's perhaps understandable that Keret, an Israeli, weaves terrorism throughout the collection, but it's handled subtly and his stories are neither religious nor political. Instead, and despite all their strangeness, Keret's stories are oddly universal and his characters easy to empathize with.

In sum, I enjoyed this offbeat little book more than a little bit. Should your tastes lean towards the whimsical, you may do well to check it out.

The Nimrod Flipout

Etgar Keret

(Translated from the Hebrew by Miriam Shlesinger and Sondra Silverston)

167 pages, 2006 (Paperback)

monday tuesday book review - things i've learned from women who've dumped me, edited by ben karlin

Getting dumped sucks. No matter your age, gender, or the size of your emotional investment, there’s little worse than listening to someone tell you that she’s tried you out, found you to be less than favorable and would like to return you now. And although we’d all like to be able to claim that we’ve never been dumped - that we’re far too desirable to ever be the dumpee, it’s an experience that’s happened to the best of us at one time or another, and one we can all relate to regardless of race, religion, or sexual persuasion. (And if you tell me that you’ve never been dumped, then I’m calling you a liar. Also, your pants are on fire.)

But being dumped - although very painful - can also be very funny, especially after traveling a comfortable distance of time. And so, with a list of contributors that is nothing if not promising, Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me, a collection of relationship-based essays compiled and edited by Ben Karlin (former editor of The Onion and former executive producer of The Daily Show), certainly had potential. Unfortunately, and as was the case with all my ex-boyfriends, potential isn’t enough.

Just like any relationship, the book certainly had its high points. Tom McCarthy’s recollections on the Christian Camp girl who got away in “Don’t Leave Too Much Room for the Holy Spirit” made me laugh out loud and was my personal favorite, while Neal Pollack’s “Don’t Come on Your Cat” and Patton Oswalt’s “Dating a Stripper Is a Recipe for Perspective” were also particularly enjoyable, but I found these occasional gems to be too infrequent to sustain the entire collection. Many of the essays were fine enough, however not great, and some – like Stephen Colbert’s gimmicky contribution – were downright disappointments.

Overall, Things… is an easy, breezy read that is sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, but sometimes falls short, making it a bit too spotty for my overall taste.  So I dumped it.

Things I've Learned from Women Who've Dumped Me
Edited by Ben Karlin

2008, 223 pages

monday tuesday book review: born standing up: a comic's life, by steve martin

I was born in 1978, a particularly good year for comedian Steve Martin.  That was the year he won a Grammy for Best Comedy Album with Let's Get Small, the year he released "King Tut" on 45, the year he appeared in the movie Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, made so many appearances on SNL that he seemed more like a regular fixture than a guest host, and was basically as successful as any comedian can hope to be.  But since I wasn't exactly cognizant in 1978, all this was lost on me.  By the time I was old enough to appreciate popular culture Martin had long since traded in his stand-up career for one in film, so my early memories of him are more of the Little Shop of Horrors variety rather than the comedic banjo/magic act sort.  And so, I entered into this autobiographic recount of his stand-up career with slight apprehension.  I love Steve Martin but had never seen his stand-up routine, so I wondered if a story about this particular era of his life would be slightly lost on me. 

As I came to learn, Martin's early career made for a pretty interesting read, even for those who were not yet self-aware in 1978.  Before making it big, he more than paid his dues working in a Disneyland magic shop, performed some of his earliest material in a Knott's Berry Farm theater, made endless and often unsuccessful appearances on daytime variety shows, and strove to create a original brand of comedy that relied more on quirky non sequiturs than on punch lines.  He was also a student of philosophy, loved art and poetry, suffered from severe panic attacks, had a complicated and poignant relationship with his father, and very nearly gave up on show business before finally making it big.  On top of learning these interesting facts about Martin, his autobiography also revealed that he's a great writer who comes across as a genuine, wholly likable, and all-around good guy.

You may have noticed this by now, but I clearly prefer fiction to non-fiction, and biographies/autobiographies are generally not my thing at all. It's not that I don't find true stories interesting - I do! - it's just that I'd rather enjoy my stories of celebrity life in episodes of E! True Hollywood Story form rather than in book form. But I needed a book for the plane and had heard good things about Born Standing Up, so when I noticed that it happened to be available at my local library I rolled the dice and picked it up.  

And the verdict?  Born Standing Up is a very enjoyable read that can easily be digested in a few hours, making it the perfect airplane read.  If you are a Martin fan, it's definitely worth your time.

Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life

Steve Martin

224 pages, 2007

monday tuesday book review: winterwood, by patrick mccabe

Winner of the 2007 Irish Book Award of the Year, Winterwood is the chilling story of Redmond Hatch, a man who appears to have defied his troubled childhood by making a happy life for himself with his beautiful wife and the daughter he adores. The novel opens with Hatch, a journalist, interviewing Ned Strange, a local folk musician, for an article on the folklore and dying traditions of his native mountain village of Slievenageeha, Ireland. Despite the muddled perspective of an unreliable narrator, it doesn't take a reader very long to realize that Strange is very...well...strange, life in the Hatch family is hardly the little slice of heaven Red first makes it out to be, and little else is what it seems.

I read Winterwood in one sitting while trapped on a New York-bound chartered bus. It was a beautiful sunshiny day, the gorgeous Pennsylvanian mountains were rolling past my window, and the giggles of my very excitable students provided me a cheery soundtrack for my reading. But no matter. The supreme creepiness of McCabe's story was so intense that it easily managed to break past all these warm, fuzzy distractions and freak me right out.

This novel is the perfect example of how a glimpse inside a troubled mind is far more terrifying than any fictional beastie a writer can dream up. Furthermore, it's a great argument for how the horror/suspense genre can be accomplished in an intelligent and artful manner. With Winterwood, McCabe trusts the intelligence of his reader enough to make him work a bit; he's purposefully cryptic and vague for a wonderfully unsettling effect. I don't think I've read anything that has disturbed me this much since The Shining - book that easily belongs in the top five on the "Creepiest Books of all Time" list, assuming such a list exists. (And it should.) This was my first experience with McCabe (The Butcher Boy), but if his other works are anything like this then sign me up. He's a truly phenomenal writer.

Winterwood

Patrick McCabe

2007, 242 pages

sold, by patricia mccormick - part two: the dilemma

Due to the nature of my job, I find myself reading a fair amount of young adult literature, and while I wouldn't ordinarily feel compelled to publicly review one, Sold was different. Reading it was - to put it mildly – a bittersweet experience, and although I had no intention of staying up until 2 am reading it straight through, I couldn’t help myself. Once begun, it begs to be finished. But after two hours of reading, pausing only every now and then to take a deep sigh and at one point even cry, I found myself with a dilemma on my hands: Despite being geared towards young adults, how on Earth do I give such a mature and horrific book to one of my students? And furthermore, should I?

Of course, this would be a non-issue if I didn’t feel so strongly that this is an important story for young people to spend some time walking around with. Issues of social justice are of high import to me as an educator, and by the time they become teenagers, young adults should not only be aware of what’s happening in the world, but they should start getting angry about it. After all, while it is not my place to lessen or belittle anyone’s painful experiences, my students live very happy and comfortable lives in comparison with the sort of children McCormick's book deals with, and it’s important that kids know this so they can put their own challenges in perspective. Of course, I’d also hope that they tuck some of this knowledge away and maybe be part of future efforts to change some of the world’s atrocities. What can I say; I’m a dreamer.

But the dilemma isn't whether or not I teach my students about the unspeakable events of both the past and the present. I'm an educator. That's my charge. The issue is  whether or not I give them a novel filled with gritty details on the subject. At what point do we say that a fourteen-year-old kid is exactly that - a kid? She should be allowed to retain a certain semblance of innocence, and while understanding that modern slavery and child sex trafficking happens, she need not spend several days getting inside the head of one of the victims, seeing what she sees and feeling what she feels.

My school's librarian has already taken her stance on this issue. She has purchased a copy of Sold, and keeps it - along with several other titles she has deemed overly controversial - on a special cart kept locked inside her office. Like buying a pornographic magazine at Barnes and Noble, no one announces that the pieces are available, but if you have the inside knowledge and make discreet inquiries you can get your hands on the goods. I suppose I could do something similar with my classroom library, however it just doesn't feel right to me. As a teacher, my fundamental job is to educate, even when it hurts.  

But, now the question shifts: If I were a parent, what choice would I make?  While the primary objective of a teacher is to educate, the primary role of a parent should be to love and protect, so as a parent (which, being that I'm not one, I'll need to take a trip to imagination-land here), would I give a book like this - a book detailing the abandonment, drugging, rape and emotional devastation of a sweet, innocent and trusting teenage girl - to my child?  

The answers is, I honestly don't know.  What do you think?

sold, by patricia mccormick - part one: the book review

AM I PRETTY?

In the days after the hugging man leaves, I consider myself in the mirror. My plain self, not the self wearing lipstick and eyeliner and a flimsy dress.

Sometimes I see a girl who is growing into womanhood. Other days I see a girl growing old before her time.

It doesn't matter, of course. Because no one will ever want me now.

Lakshmi is thirteen-years-old. She lives a simple and, albeit impoverished, relatively happy existence with with her Ama, infant sibling and gambling-addicted stepfather in a Nepalese village buried deep in the Himalayan mountains. She is a loving and obedient daughter and the best student in her class, but when a monsoon comes, devastating her family's home and the crops they rely on for sustenance, her simple life takes a catastrophic turn. In order to compensate for the family's crippling loss, Lakshmi's stepfather - who likens little girls to goats, "Good as long as she gives you milk and butter..but not worth crying over when it's time to make stew" - decides to sell Lakshmi away to a Calcutta brothel for the paltry sum of four hundred dollars.

Early in the novel, Lakshmi's Ama gives her this warning: "it is a woman's fate to suffer (and) simply to endure is to triumph." Told through a series of spare, free-verse vignettes, Lakshim's story is devastating, and yet somehow she endures, which - considering the myriad horrors she experiences - is most definitely a triumph.

Before writing Sold, Patricia McCormick traveled to Nepal and India, interviewing both the families who sell their children (some intentionally, some because they were tricked by unscrupulous traffickers) and the children who have been sold into the trade. Thanks to her first-hand interviews and observations, Sold - although fiction - feels intensely real. Lakshmi's story could be that of any one of the 400,000 children currently in bondage, working off their bloated debts in Indian brothels, and it was that realism - mixed with a beautifully simplistic style of storytelling - that led me to devour this novel in one sitting, despite the fact that every single page found a new way to break my heart.

Sold

Patricia McCormick

2006, 272 pages

(Expect the second part of this post: "Sold: Where the Review Got Away from Me" sometime tomorrow. For tonight, I am tired. A hex on Daylight Savings Time!)

monday book review: three novellas, three quickie reviews

Last Night at the Lobster, by Stewart O'Nan 

(2007, 146 pages)

Set in a Red Lobster on its final day of operation, Last Night at the Lobster makes unlikely heroes out of chain restaurant managers and argues that pride can be found from performing the most menial tasks. I picked this book up based on Stephen King's raving recommendation, but although it was an enjoyable enough way to spend a few hours, the characters never felt fully developed to me, and - probably due to its claustrophobic setting - I couldn't shake the nagging feeling it would have succeeded better as a play rather than a novel.

In Search of Mockingbird, by Loretta Ellsworth 

(2007, 181 pages)

Erin, a smart, bookish high school sophomore, takes a lone, cross-country trip on a greyhound bus in the hopes of meeting Harper Lee, gaining a better understanding of a mother she never knew, and discovering whether she truly has what it takes to be a writer. In Search of Mockingbird draws heavy thematic and character inspiration from its namesake while still managing to stand alone on its own merits, and while fans of To Kill a Mockingbird would certainly enjoy it, reading "Mockingbird" is not necessarily a prerequisite. It is a poignant and well-written piece, although it's the sort of young adult fiction I can see adults apt to reflect on their teenage years enjoying more than actual young adults.


Steps Through the Mist: A Mosaic Novel, by Zoran Zivkovic (Translated by Alice Copple-Tosie, 2007, 125 pages)
Fantasy and Science Fiction aren't generally my genres; nonetheless, I picked up this existential "mosaic novel" because I like trying to be a well-rounded reader. Zivkovic uses the motif of fate as a thread to weave together the stories of four diverse women. It was a weird little thing, but I enjoyed it; I can see how fans of Jean-Paul Sartre would too.

monday book review: sway, a novel; by zachary lazar

I am not a child of the sixties. Heck, I’m barely even a child of the seventies. But even still, I couldn't help but be fascinated with Zachary Lazar’s Sway - a engrossing novel dealing with the intersection of three 60’s icons: Charles Manson, The Rolling Stones, and occult filmmaker Kenneth Anger (Invocation of my Demon Brother, Scorpio Rising). Despite using factual people, Sway is clearly a work of fiction; despite being a novel, it reads more like a series of character studies; and rather than romanticizing the 1960s, Lazar uses motifs of Satanism, drug culture, homoerotica and violence to approach the oft romanticized decade from a much darker angle. With three protagonists: Kenneth Anger – a experimental filmmaker who often found inspiration in Satanism and the occult, Bobby Beausoleil - a handsome, young musician, actor and eventual murderous member of the Manson clan, and Brian Jones – founder of the Rolling Stones who was later spurned by the group before drowning in his own swimming pool at age 27; Lazar weaves together three stories that not only intersect, but also darkly echo one another. I’m not particularly a fan of the Rolling Stones, I know next to nothing about Anger, and I’m only mildly interested in the infamous Manson clan, so I suspect a lot of Lazar’s more minor references and plot details were lost on me, but it was a highly engaging read even still. I felt that the back half of the novel dragged a bit so I can’t say that I absolutely loved Sway, but I ended with a deep appreciation for both Lazar’s story and the artful approach he took to telling it.

Sway, A Novel
Zachary Lazar
2008, 272 pages

books: 15 down, 9 to go: the big girls

Today, I blew off my temporary job removing staples, making copies, and avoiding the "cute" little old man in the office who wouldn't leave me alone to go shoe shopping, blog and finish reading Susanna Moore's (In the Cut) latest novel and, as I'm sure is obvious from this very post, I'm happy to report that it's only 9 am and already two of those goals have been met. Who said teachers don't work hard in the summertime months? But enough already of me trying to awe and amaze you with my industriousness (and awed and amazed you are, I'm sure) - on to the book.

Set in the Sloatsburg Correctional Institution, a female prison in Upstate New York, The Big Girls describes the story of four intertwined characters: Dr. Louise Forrest, Sloatsburg's Chief Psychiatrist, Helen Nash, a schizophrenic inmate doing life for killing her infant children, Captain Henry Bradshaw, a corrections officer who starts up an affair with Dr. Forrest, and Angie Mills, a Hollywood actress and the object of Helen's obsession. The narrative moves constantly and seamlessly between these four viewpoints to reveal the harsh realities of day-to-day prison life and the effect that the oppressively grim environment has on everyone who touches it.

Thankfully, what this book is not about is redemption, and its absence kept it from becoming a neatly trite little novel. Instead, it was searing, harshly realistic and an often-times overwhelming read. Ironically, I picked up The Big Girls because I wanted a light, easy read between two pieces that I knew would be difficult for different reasons, however the novel, although slim, was definitely not light and the prose, although sparse, was definitely not easy. This was a difficult book for me, especially when it began to delve into Helen's history and the causes behind the mental illness that led her to her heinous crimes. It was darkly psychological and heartbreaking, and although I'm glad I read it, I'm not sure I want you to. I like you too much and hate to see you sad, little buddy!

Up Next: The Road, by Cormac McCarthy