weekly book review: the amnesiac, by sam taylor

Fittingly, I have no recollection of where I heard about The Amnesiac, and I only have the haziest remembrance of purchasing it.  Weirdly, it's as if the little sucker just magically *appeared!* on my bookshelf, where it then sat, gathering dust for ages.  And it may have continued to gather dust for quite some time to come, however I spent a lot of time on the road this holiday season and the book I had been reading just wasn't doing it for me.  I needed something else, something readable, something fun and something preferably in paperback.

Enter The Amnesiac.:

After breaking his leg on the stairs of his Amsterdam apartment, James Purdew suddenly finds he has time to do something he hasn't done in a long time:  think.  And as tends to be the case, the more he thinks, the more trouble he finds.  His life in Amsterdam starts to fall apart as James becomes increasingly obsessed with three years of his life that have become lost to his memory, those being the years he spent as a college student in the town of H.  An avid journaler, James has three journals detailing his life during those missing years, but, for some reason, those journals are locked up in a black safe he keeps under his bed, and he has no idea where the key could be.  Clearly, something very bad happened in H., something he once chose to forget, but something he is now hell-bent on remembering.

In an attempt to unlock the mystery of those missing years, James must become the detective of his own mystery.  He returns to the British town of H., gets a job fixing up the crumbling remnants of the house where he once lived, and starts unearthing clues to who he was and what happened to him there.  The deeper James digs, the stranger things get, as the plot takes a bit of a Gothic turn, where suddenly a 19th century manuscript becomes a key to unlocking the mystery of James' own past.

To paraphrase the blurb on the back of the book, The Amnesiac is described as a time travel book without a time machine, a science fiction book without the aliens, and a murder mystery without the murder.  This description is pretty apt, and is a large part of why I liked it so much, despite the fact that it wasn't the most original premise for a book.  (At times, the plot felt quite similar to films like Vanilla Sky and Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind.)  But even if similar stories have been told before, Taylor sprinkled heavy references to Borges, Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Freudian psychology, Heaven and Hell, and Descartes' solipsistic brand of philosophy (i.e.: "I think, therefore I am.") into his story, using them as clues that continued to keep me thinking and guessing until the end.  In The Amnesiac, Taylor has created something more original and intelligent than your average dimestore mystery novel, while still managing to craft a tale that was a whole lot of fun to read.

After skimming some other reviews of this book, it seems as if many folks didn't like it as much as I did, complaining that the ending wasn't very satisfying and that Taylor was a little heavy-handed with the references to Borges and Freud.  And those are complaints that I can certainly understand.  The Amnesiac is hardly a perfect novel. However, I thoroughly loved it, warts and all.  While reading, I, like James, became a detective - underlining clues, scribbling in the margins, and working the story over in my mind long after finishing it.  

In short, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun reading a book.  I'm not sure whether or not I fell in love with The Amnesiac,  but I certainly thought about it a lot when it wasn't around.

The Amnesiac

Sam Taylor

383 pages, 2007

my top 10 favorite book cover designs of 2008

Joseph Sullivan of Book Design Review has a much more comprehensive list of the best book cover designs of 2008, but this is my blog, hence here are my two cents on the matter. For my part (and with one notable exception), I limited myself to covers that not only appealed the strongest to my personal aesthetic, but also convinced me to either read, buy, borrow, or at least consider reading the book based on the design. They are listed in no particular order, and as you can tell, my tastes lean towards the minimalist:

This last one is the exception I referenced above, and it deserves a close-up.  It isn't photoshopped, but rather was created from individual needles placed into cardstock. I admit that I hadn't heard of the title until Sullivan posted on it and it's unlikely I'll ever read it, however the cover is too amazing to not include:

monday book review: death with interruptions, by jose saramago

I've been done with this book for ages, but this has been a particularly difficult book review to write for some reason. Timing, I think, is certainly playing its part. My Grandpa is pretty sick at the moment, and so reading and/or discussing a book about death isn't really something I've been over the moon to do.  Go figure, right?

Nonetheless, I think the larger issue lies not with the subject matter, but with the author. For all his problems with sentence construction and characterization, Saramago is widely considered to be a genius.  In fact, Harold Bloom went so far as to call him "the most gifted novelist alive in the world today."  Thus, I can't help but sort of feel like the problem must lie, at least in part, with me, the reader, if I happen to really dislike one of his books.  

And let's be clear from the beginning - I really disliked this book.

On the surface, Death with Interruptions contains all of Saramago's trademark qualities: it's more fable than novel, the characters are widely unnamed and under-developed, he writes sentences that run-on for days, and it possesses a deep level of sociological insightfulness.  But while some of these qualities can be perceived as criticisms, they can and have worked in his favor.  Take Blindness, for instance.  It was brilliant, despite its "flaws."  The characters in that story remained unnamed and rather vague throughout the narrative, and yet I still found myself able to care for and about them.  I assume that the point there was to present more character types than actual characters - to explore how society as a whole would react to such a catastrophe, and so keeping them half-formed was a masterful decision that totally worked for the story he was trying to tell.  Since Death with Interruptions is a similar sort of sociological story - asking what would happen if there was suddenly no more death - one might think that using the same sort of tools would produce similar results.  But they didn't for some reason.  And I'm not sure if I can point to why, exactly.

The novel's premise is certainly an interesting one.  What if no one died? Death is hated, however necessary.  As Saramago illustrates, without it population soars, the sick linger on in a horrible sort of half-life, religion loses its purpose, organized crime thrives and the economy suffers.  However, I'm not sure Saramago is telling us anything none of us don't already know.  Obviously, death is a necessary evil, and stories of this sort have been told before.  Furthermore, the characters were left so vague and the story such an overview, that it was hard for me to feel invested in what was going on.

Then, half-way through, the novel switched gears.  While the first half focused on the societal implications of there suddenly being no death, the second half focused on death itself - this time, through personification of the concept.  Death decides to resume her work, though she now gives everyone two weeks notice.  This notice presents its own problems, but the real story in this second half is that death (small "d") finds herself (a woman, of course) unable to kill a cellist for reasons she can not understand.  The novel's two halves are not connected well, and I was never particularly clear on what point Saramago was trying to make with the cellist story.  By the end, I was bored and forcing myself to finish.

Again, maybe the problem is with me.  Maybe Death with Interruptions is genius and I'm the idiot who just didn't "get" it.  However, I suspect this isn't really the case.  I suspect that I'm right - that this is not one of his strongest efforts and that it contains some very real problems that many readers will overlook because of the author's acclaim.

Overall, fervent Saramago fans will certainly want to check it out, however first-time readers of his work would do best to start with a different work.

Death with Interruptions

Jose Saramago

2008, 256 pages

weekly book review: a confederacy of dunces, by john kennedy toole

The title of this post is factually incorrect, since this will not be much of a book review at all.  See,  a few friends and I recently decided to form an online book club, and "Dunces," our first selection, is presently up for discussion.  I could write something more involved over here, but I'd rather not steal anyone's thunder.  (Thanks again, Paul.)  Nonetheless, I thought I might share a few quick thoughts for those readers uninvolved in my weird little club.   

And so, my thoughts:

Overall, I found A Confederacy of Dunces to be a very enjoyable read.  Perhaps it dragged in spots, but it was, all things considered, a fantastic comic farce, and I don't think I've ever read anything quite like it.  As much as the protagonist begged to be hated, I found that I couldn't, and I enjoyed spending time in his wacko world almost as much as I was thankful that he didn't really exist in my actual life.   Did it deserve the Pulitzer?  Hard to say.  However, and despite its challenges, reading it was a worthwhile experience, and one I would certainly recommend.

weekly book review: this lullaby, by sarah dessen

Although I review nearly all the books I read, I honestly wasn't planning on reviewing This Lullaby; I guess because I've already written on a string of YA titles recently and figured interest would be minimal.  But, I then felt bad for Ms. Dessen for some reason, and so here it is anyway.  I'll leave it to you to decide your own level of interest...

As far as love goes, Remy is a cynic.  Having a mother who's been married five times will do that to a girl.  She's had her fair share of boyfriends, but Remy always knows to give them "the speech" before things get too serious.  She's a careful girl with big plans, and isn't about to let any man disrupt her meticulous life.

That is, until she meets Dexter.  On the surface, Dexter is the polar opposite of Remy.  He's messy, free-spirited, disorganized, and hopelessly romantic.  He's also a musician, just like Remy's father - a man Remy has never met, and who she only knows through the lyrics of the famous ballad he penned for her: "This Lullaby."  Although Remy knows that Dexter is not the man for her, he refuses to accept her cold logic.  His relentless persistence eventually pays off, and although Remy knows their relationship won't last - that it's just a summer fling -  the longer they're together the more serious it gets, and the harder it becomes for her to harden her heart and throw this one over.

As a high school English teacher, it's been a small source of embarrassment for me that I've never read a Sarah Dessen novel.  She's one of those names that is constantly being buzzed among students and critics alike, and so though the premise of this novel hadn't particularly hooked my attention, I decided to give it a shot just the same.  

From this one, admittedly limited experience, I really appreciated Dessen on a feminist level. Remy is a fairly realistic teenage girl who is strong, independent, and who isn't looking for a boy to "complete" her.  In that respect, Remy is a great role model for young girls.  She takes care of herself, and shows girls that marriage is not requisite to happiness.  If I had a teenage daughter, I would whole-heartily encourage her to read Dessen's novels; and because they're so engaging, I don't think my fictional teenage daughter would put up much of a fight.   Furthermore, it is nice to read a YA title where no one is in a gang, dealing with substance abuse, battling an eating disorder, suicidal, getting raped, murdered or murdering someone else.  Seriously, YA books without these issues are becoming increasingly rare, and it's refreshing to read something that's not as weighty in its subject matter, yet still doesn't sacrifice intelligence.

So, even if This Lullaby wasn't necessarily the book for me, it's a title that I'm happy to own and feel comfortable lending out to pretty much any teenage girl.  If you know one,  Sarah Dessen is a good author to share.

This Lullaby

Sarah Dessen

2002, 345 pages

weekly book review: blindness, by josé saramago

"Perhaps only in a world of the blind will things be what they truly are."

On an average street in an anonymous city, a man is suddenly struck blind while idling in his car, waiting for a red light to turn green.  It is no ordinary blindness, but rather a "white blindness," causing the victim's world to fall "into a milky sea." Another man - a thief, first thought to be a good Samaritan - helps drive the newly blind man home.  The thief takes advantage of the blind man's condition and makes off with his car.  While driving away, he is himself struck blind.  The blindness soon spreads like wildfire, striking the first man's wife, an opthamologist, and then his patients.  The government soon panics; the first victims are rounded up and sent to live in an abandoned asylum, quarantined until a cure can be found.  But to no avail.  The asylum is soon stuffed to overflowing with the ever increasing blind, and still the strange disease continues to spread unchecked in the outside world. 

Inside the asylum, conditions quickly deteriorate. Food becomes an uncertainty, the lack of running water reduces all to filth, and the guards become frightened and quick to shoot. Eventually, a small group of prisoners force themselves upon the others - holding hostage their food in exchange for valuables, and later, women. In all of this, there remains only one set of seeing eyes - those of the opthamologist's wife, who mysteriously retains her sight while the world loses its, and who is burdened with being the lone witness as society crumbles into vile depravity.  

With Blindness, Saramago makes a powerful statement about the delicate state of humanity, while creating a disturbingly apt parable for our times. Playing with the old adage of the eyes being the window to the soul, Saramago strips society of its eyes, thus plunging it into evil.  And as a parable, Blindness is intentionally vague. Surroundings are described in detail while characters remain unnamed, and the cause of the illness is left unexplained. Thus, the story becomes a limitless allegory - it could be the Holocaust, AIDS, Hurricane Katrina, The Sudan, or any other time when catastrophe has struck, pushing civilization to its breaking point. It isn’t pleasant to think about, but it’s a story that is too often true, and one that we can never learn from if we choose to ignore.

For a variety of reasons I’ve spent this month reading much lighter fare, and although I’ve enjoyed myself, I was itching for something a bit more substantial.  Thus, I was drawn to Saramago.  Although a masterful writer, I’d been reading very underwhelming reviews of his newest novel, so figured it best to start with his masterpiece.  As expected, Blindness absolutely did not disappoint. It’s a darkly brilliant, important book, and although I can’t say reading it was a pleasant experience, it was one I’m glad I had just the same.

Blindness

José Saramago

1998, 326 pages

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

weekly book review: thirteen reasons why, by jay asher

Clay Jensen comes home from school to discover a mysterious package, addressed to him and anonymously left on his front porch. His excitement turns into curiosity when he opens the box to discover it full of cassette tapes, each side numbered from one to thirteen in dark blue nail polish. But after popping the first tape into an old cassette player, Clay's excited curiosity quickly turns to sick dread as the voice he hears on the tape is that of Hannah Baker - a girl who was his classmate, his crush, and who committed suicide two weeks earlier. Hannah's unexplained death rocked her community, hitting sweet and sensitive Clay particularly hard. It was widely assumed she left no explanation behind for why she chose to end her life, however the voice Clay hears speaking through the tape indicates that this is not so. Hannah has thirteen reasons why she decided to end her life, each explained in full in the tapes that have fallen into Clay's possession. Apparently, Clay is one of those reasons, and in order to discover why he must listen to Hannah's tapes, regardless of how difficult a job it may prove to be.

What first struck me about Jay Asher's novel is how much young adult fiction has changed since I was a kid. My clearest memories of the genre include books like Judy Blume's Blubber - novels that taught strong lessons about bullying and the importance of empathy. In another era, pushing the envelope meant writing about teenage sex (Forever), drug use (Go Ask Alice), or eating disorders (The Girl in the Mirror). But while these topics were once considered shocking and sometimes taboo, this is clearly no longer the case. Sex and drinking are now accepted elements of the genre, so it takes much weightier issues such as suicide, child prostitution and murder to shock us. At times, I find this depressing. And yet, I can’t help but see it as a natural sort of evolution. I don't think Asher set out to shock readers with Thirteen Reasons Why, rather he saw a story that begged to be told; one that, unfortunately, hits many young people in a very real way.

What struck me next was a feeling of intense inferiority. Here I am, struggling to pen my own young adult novel, when I pause to read Asher’s debut - his clever, strong-voiced, well-crafted, suspenseful debut. Part of me wanted to hate this book, not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because it filled me with such strong feelings of jealousy. Thirteen Reasons Why is a wonderful novel, and Jay Asher is a talented storyteller. It speaks to adults as well as it speaks to kids, and I know this because once I cracked it, I couldn’t put the little bugger down. Listening to Hannah tell the posthumous story of her downward spiral and ultimate decision to give up is as thought-provoking as it is absorbing, and her voice rings clear and feels tragically real.

Overall, Thirteen Reasons Why is about the importance of listening, both to what is said as well as to the clues that go unspoken. Like much of today’s serious young adult fiction, it’s a sobering read, but it’s also a terrific book. I just wish I had come up with the idea first.

Thirteen Reasons Why

Jay Asher

2007, 288 pages

weekly book review: story of a girl, by sara zarr

"I was thirteen when my dad caught me with Tommy Webber in the back of Tommy's Buick, parked next to the old Chart House down in Montara at eleven o'clock on a Tuesday night. Tommy was seventeen and the supposed friend of my brother, Darren.

I didn't love him.

I'm not sure I even liked him."

Deanna Lambert is widely regarded as the town slut, a distinction awarded to her after her father caught her in the act of having sex, and her partner then decided to publicly tout the experience as a badge of honor. Nevermind that Tommy was her first and only sexual encounter, the story of what she had done, how she was discovered, and the age gap between her and her partner proved enough to destroy her reputation in a sleepy little town where there's little else to discuss and whose memory is long. There's nothing else that Deanna would prefer than to take back what she did, to have had the confidence and the maturity to have not given into the pressuring of an older boy, but it's too late, the deed is done, and as a result she seems to have forever lost the respect of her peers and, most devastatingly, of her father.

I've recently been on a bit of a young adult literature kick - good research for the young adult novel that I'm somehow going to write this month - and although young adult novels can be a bit of a crapshoot, I'm pleased to say that Zarr's Story of a Girl was a true gem. The characters are vivid, complex and totally realistic, especially the protagonist, who hates Tommy for what he did to her, yet still can't help but be attracted to him all the same. For his part, Tommy is like so many teenage boys who pressure younger girls for sex: idiotic, but not necessarily evil, and burdened with his own confusing set of emotions.

And while it certainly is an interesting character study, the biggest thing that Zarr's novel has going for it is the weightiness and import of its subject matter. With teens becoming sexually active at younger and younger ages, it becomes increasingly important for them to see what the consequences of sexual activity can be, and not just the larger consequences like pregnancy or STDs. What too many kids don't seem to realize until it's too late is the emotional and social toll that sex can take on someone who simply isn't mature enough yet to handle it.

Ultimately, Story of a Girl is the story of how the decisions we make follow us, and how our missteps can, unfortunately, come to define us. This a lesson that I see too many young adults learn the hard way, making Story of a Girl a very worthwhile read for any teen.

Story of a Girl

Sara Zarr
192 pages, 2007

monday book review: water for elephants, by sara gruen

The New York Times bestselling Water for Elephants is one of those sorts of books that finds me conflicted from the outset. On one hand, the subject matter is such that it's hard to imagine me not liking it. Since childhood, elephants have always been one of my favorite animals, and thanks to Carnivale (a television series that I loved more than most) I'm now a sucker for Depression-era circus stories. Based on those two points alone, this book appeared to have Mrs. White written all over it.  But on the other hand, Water for Elephants has become one of those "book club" reads, the vast majority of which are so often at odds with my personal tastes. (See, for example, my feelings regarding Jodi Picoult.) But winning the admiration of legions of middle-aged suburban housewives really shouldn't be reason enough to immediately dismiss something out of hand, so I gave it a shot in the hopes that the word "gritty" on the front cover was an apt descriptor.

And so was it? Well...sort of.

Jacob Jankowski, on the cusp of earning his Ivy League degree in veterinary medicine, suddenly abandons it all and joins the circus after the sudden, violent death of both of his parents.  But the fact that he never completed his degree is of little concern to The Benzini Brothers' Most Spectacular Show on Earth, as he quickly lands himself a job as the official vet of the circus menagerie.  But despite the glitter and the glamour, it doesn't take long for the dark underbelly of the circus to reveal itself to Jankowski, and the pinnacle of this darkness takes the form of August - the troupe's paranoid schizophrenic head animal trainer.   Predictably, August is married to a beautiful, animal-loving woman, for whom Jacob is immediately smitten.  And since August is violently unhinged, this forbidden romance proves to be a very Bad Thing.

I'd like to start by saying that had it ended as well as it began, then this review would have been a rave one.  Sure, Gruen's prose isn't anything to write home about, but I was so engrossed by the story she was weaving that, though I noticed it,  it never particularly bothered me.  But while I devoured the first one hundred or so pages, about mid-way through things took a bit of a turn.  Suddenly the gritty circus drama I had so been enjoying turned into a romance novel - pure and simple, and that's when I began to lose interest.  See, it's not that I mind romance novels exactly, but it wasn't what I was expecting, and I suppose I would have been willing to go along with it had  I been able to buy into the chemistry between Marlena and Jacob.  Though Jacob was fully-formed, Marlena's character felt flat to me, and I found myself not really caring whether or not those two crazy kids would ever get together.  Instead, I just really wanted more scenes involving Rosie the Elephant.  

And so in sum, Water for Elephants is a quick, easy, and fairly engaging story that had the potential for being a great book, but instead settled for merely being good; however, if you're a fan of the circus, historical fiction and romance novels, then it comes highly recommended.

Water for Elephants
Sara Gruen
2006, 335 pages

monday book review: the dark side, by jane mayer

"He who does battle with monsters needs to watch out lest he in the process becomes a monster himself." - Friedrich Nietzsche

In reaction to Britain's brutal treatment of American prisoners of war, George Washington vowed that this new Democracy would "take a higher road." Thus, the U.S. military doctrine was born, based upon the belief that "Brutality undermines military discipline and strengthens the enemy's resolve, while displays of humanity could be used to tactical advantage." Since its inception, this doctrine has certainly been tried, sometimes quite strenuously, but it has remained a fundamental tenet of American government since our country's birth. Remained, that is, until the events of September 11, 2001.

The attacks of Al Qaeda spun America into a state of chaos and fear, and in this atmosphere came the decision to abandon some of our country's most fundamental beliefs. Hell-bent on revenge and terrified of further attacks, White House officials deemed it necessary to throw out the old rule book in favor of their own set of rules. Despite evidence that torture only produces uncooperative prisoners and questionable information, the Bush Administration felt certain it was the only way to stop further acts of terrorism. Surrounding themselves with lawyers charged with seeking out the legal loopholes that would grant the military carte blanche, it was in these dark days when a new doctrine was born - one which ignored the Article 5 Tribunals, The Geneva Convention, and the Constitution itself in favor of arresting, detaining, torturing, and even killing anyone with suspected connections to terrorism, no matter how tenuous those connections may have been.

On January 27, 2005, President George W. Bush, speaking to a New York Times reporter, said, "torture is never acceptable, nor do we hand over people to countries that torture." But while speaking these words, thousands of prisoners were currently being held without due process in one of America's "black sites," Gulag-like prisons hosted by as many as eight countries, including Afghanistan; Iraq; Cuba; and, allegedly; fledgling democracies such as Poland and Romania. Inside these ghost prisons lurked a secret horror show of abuse where "enhanced interrogation" techniques such as waterboarding, stress positions, sleep deprivation, and exposure to extreme temperatures were often applied by untrained and unqualified guards to prisoners who may or may not have had any information to give. What little information was gained was either false or forever clouded by suspicion due to the method in which it was obtained, and in hindsight it's this false information procured by torture that mistakenly connected the events of 9/11 to Iraq.

Perhaps "essential reading" is a distinction too easily granted to too many books, but after reading Jane Mayer's The Dark Side, it struck me that this is a case when it is certainly appropriately-applied. Meticulously researched and masterfully written, Mayer provides a non-partisan narrative of how America lost its way in the aftermath of September 11th. Resisting the urge to infuse her own commentary, Mayer lets the events spanning from the attacks of September 11 to the aftermath of the Abu Ghraib scandal speak for themselves, lending the narrative an unmistakable air of credibility. Of course, this also makes the story all the more repugnant.

Like most politically aware Americans, I remember being confused at how an attack by a Afghan-based terrorist cell could lead to a war in Iraq, was aware of the goings on at Guantanamo Bay, and was appropriately shocked when the Abu Ghraib story broke, but reading the finer details of these events alongside their causes and effects was both eye-opening and overwhelming. But though unpleasant, this is a story that demands to be heard, especially now when elections can and should be used to bring events such as these to light. Mayer's story is gripping, intensely troubling, and an absolutely necessary reminder of why we Americans deserve better leadership. I'd strongly encourage each and every one of you to read it.

The Dark Side
Jane Mayer
2008, 392 pages

random posts of pretty

I think there are basically two sorts of little girls:  Cinderella girls, and Alice in Wonderland girls.  Cinderella girls dream of being princesses - complete with the prince, the floofy dresses and the sky-high princess hats.  Alice girls, on the other hand, are a quirkier sort.  They make up fantastical stories in their heads, talk to their pets as if they were people, and have a fondness for the odd.  I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I was always a Alice in Wonderland girl.  

I suppose this is old news by now, but I'm finally just getting around to looking at some of the illustrations Mary Blair was asked to do for the original film version of Disney's Alice in Wonderland.  The illustrations were never used, but they have recently been included in a new, abridged version of the classic story, and as an Alice girl I happen to think they're flipping fantastic:

monday book review: beautiful children, by charles bock

"I want them to see me dying. That way, they'll know I'm alive."

Beautiful Children is the kaleidoscopic tale of Las Vegas' dark underbelly, a place where underneath the lights, glitz and glamour lurks a bevy of downtrodden and desperate. Bock centers the bulk of his novel around one particular Saturday night - the night that twelve-year-old Newell Ewing disappeared, leaving behind only a single shoe abandoned in the middle of the desert. Starting with the story of Newell's disappearance, the novel swirls out to include the stories of runaway street kids, strippers, washed-up comic book artists, seedy pornographers, angry teenagers and casino executives. Their stories are grim to say the least, but Bock's intent appeared more cautionary than anything - to show the paths each took to wind up here, rather than simply dwelling on the dark details of the present.

Beautiful Children is a thoroughly impressive debut and a pretty great read, though a painful one to say the least. And I suppose that would be my largest criticism of the novel: it's almost suffocating in its gloominess. The characters are terrible to one another and utterly self-destructive, and several scenes are so cruel and so graphic that I had to force myself to read on. In several respects, Beautiful Children reminded me a lot of Requiem for a Dream; it's a story that's true and important and often overlooked, but it sears its image onto your eyelids, turns your stomach into knots and and makes you relieved when it's finally over.

In short, it's a great book by a new talent, and though I'm glad I read it I don't think I'll ever go back for seconds. In fact, I'm not sure I even want to be in the same room with this book ever again.

Beautiful Children
Charles Bock
407 pages, 2008

monday book review: the answer is always yes, by monica ferrell

In this, her first novel, poetess Monica Ferrell gives us the story of Matt Acciaccatura, a sad, lonely and much bullied kid from Teaneck, New Jersey who is desperate to be cool. Seeing college as his chance to reinvent himself and start anew, Matt spends the summer before his tenure at NYC conducting meticulous research on the fashion, conversation and mannerisms of coolness in an effort to adopt that persona. Once he arrives at NYC he discovers that most of his efforts have been in vain; nonetheless, despite the fact that he cannot seem to break into the elite world he covets, Matt does make two true friendships, and for a time - perhaps for the first time - Matt finds acceptance and a semblance of happiness.

Matt Acciaccatura's New York is that of the mid-90's - the heyday of club kids, raves and Ecstasy. Despite seeming the unlikeliest of candidates for such a position, Matt is scouted and offered a position as a club promoter at one of the hottest nightclubs in NYC: Cinema. Matt has a natural knack for his job and fast becomes "Magic Matt", one of the brightest stars of the New York club scene. But his new found success comes at a cost, as Matt's acceptance into this gilded world puts a predictable strain on his real friendships, tests his personal ethics, and ultimately leads to his downfall.

Matt's fictitious tale is told by two narrators: Ferrell, the primary storyteller; and Dr. Hans Mannheim, a German sociologist who was studying Matt before his arrest, and who marks up Ferrell's manuscript with footnotes, personal asides, and addenda. And it's here where the novel fell apart for me. Had The Answer is Always Yes been narrated by Ferrell alone, I may have considered it a success. Although it dragged in sections, Ferrell's prose is skillful, her story engaging and her characters fully formed. However, the decision to add Mannheim as a second narrator revealed her limitations as a writer in that I found his contributions to be annoyingly interruptive, painfully overwritten and largely unnecessary.

As a person who counts The Great Gatsby as one of her all-time favorite novels, I really wanted to like The Answer is Always Yes. From early on Ferrell succeeded in earning my sympathy for poor Matt Acciaccatura, who, like Jay Gatsby, mistakes celebrity and money for happiness, is frustratingly insecure, obsessed with frivolity, but who is still deserving of our affection and of our pity. Unfortunately, Ferrell's attempts at innovation ultimately ruined the experience for me in that I just couldn't forgive the poorly executed gimmick that was Dr. Hans Mannheim.

In short, Ferrell is a good writer who certainly shows potential as a novelist, however her first attempt was far from a home run. Would I consider reading future efforts? Sure. Would I recommend this, her debut? Eh...Probably not.

The Answer is Always Yes

Monica Ferrell

382 pages, 2008

weekly book review: the soul thief, by charles baxter

File this one under "showed promise."

Baxter's anticipated follow-up to the highly acclaimed The Feast of Love started off well enough, I suppose. Nathaniel Mason, narrating awkwardly in the 3rd person, is a graduate student in upstate New York and on his way to one of the smarmiest parties ever put to ink. It's there, amongst the hipsters and faux Marxists, where he first meets Jerome Coolberg,"The Soul Thief." Coolberg is purported to be some sort of genius, however Nathaniel is quick to note that nearly everything spewing from his mouth is stolen material.

Though he first seems harmless enough, it doesn't take Nathaniel long to realize something about Coolberg is a bit...off. Still, Nathaniel can't seem to help from forming an uneasy friendship with Coolberg, and that's when things take turn for the creepy. Nathaniel's apartment is burgled, his clothes go missing, and Coolberg somehow seems know very personal things about Nathaniel - things Nathaniel doesn't recall ever sharing with him. The issue is forced to its crisis when he catches word that Coolberg has taken to passing Nathaniel's history off as his own. His excuse? He's writing a book, and Nathaniel's a major source of inspiration. From here the story takes several twists, the biggest one being, of course, the ending. Which was awful.

As I stated earlier, this novel certainly had potential. Annoying opening party scene aside, the first act read like Hitchcock at his best - full of ominously mysterious characters with undefined motives. In fact, the book even begins with a reference to Psycho, a reference the reader will later recognize as a major clue. And even though I *loves* me some Hitchcock, I most certainly didn't love this novel.

Why? As the plot unfolded I was bothered by several things, but I could have looked past the pedantic dialogue and unlikeable characters had the ending delivered better. And when it comes down to it, it's the ending that ruined The Soul Thief for me. I'll be vague for the sake of anyone who may still want to give it a shot, but after all the allusions dropped throughout, I was geared up for the ending to be as classy and smart as a Hitchcock film, when instead it felt cheap and gimmicky. Baxter my man, you could have done so much better.  

I have no doubt that Charles Baxter is a great writer, however I'm not sure one would be able to discern that on this strength of this novel alone. Hardcore Baxter fans will probably still want to check it out, but for everyone else...maybe don't bother. It wasn't the worst way to spend a few hours, but it was hardly the best.

The Soul Thief

Charles Baxter

210 pages, 2008

bonus book review: in persuasion nation, by george saunders

(Since I took last week off, I thought I'd throw a bonus book review your way today to make up for it. And aren't you all-a-quiver!)

Last week I found myself in a bit of a pickle. I was supposed to have spent my summer tracking down supplementary readings for a unit on media manipulation, but as of two days before my due date I hadn't found one single thing. Honestly, I hadn't even bothered to try. In short, I was screwed. Fortunately, a friend came to my rescue by suggesting In Persuasion Nation, a collection of short stories by George Saunders, and it proved perfect for my needs. (And thank God I can read a book in a day. Way to cut things close, me.) I wasn't planning on reviewing this book since I read it for work, however I really enjoyed it, and so what the heck - we're mixing work with pleasure over here today.

The cover of In Persuasion Nation depicts a man leaning over to sniff the solitary flower standing in the center of a wasteland - an appropriate image for a collection of stories whose protagonists are often searching for something real, pure and true in a plastic world that values consumerism over humanity. Often humorous, rather quirky and usually disturbing, Saunders' stories serve as a sort of protest of our corporate culture, warning what we very well may one day become if we choose to continue on our current path. The heroes in these stories are the misfits of this modern world. There's Brad, whose life is a sitcom which he is in danger of being written off of once he finds he can no longer continue smiling along with the laugh track, ignoring the world's ills. In the title story, an army of frustrated characters from smug television commercials rise up and refuse to continue being humiliated while hawking Ding-Dongs, Mac and Cheese and Doritos. And, in what I thought was the best story of the lot, there's Jon, an orphan who's spent nearly his entire life as a member of a product focus group, knowing no other way of communicating his feelings but through advertisements.

While some of these stories succeed better than others, the overall collection proves timely, affecting, inventive and highly entertaining. Like the best satirists, Saunders is thought-provoking, but with heart. Fans of Vonnegut and Pynchon should approve.

In Persuasion Nation

George Saunders

2006 (paperback), 228 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 book review: a thousand splendid suns, by khaled hosseini

Truth be told, I wasn't particularly looking forward to reading A Thousand Splendid Suns.  It's not that the novel's premise didn't interest me - it did - however, I was largely underwhelmed by The Kite Runner and wasn't really interested in hearing more from this particular author. But as it so often does, my curiosity won out in the end, and I decided to give Hosseini a second chance to wow me.  And expectations are a funny thing. I had such high hopes for The Kite Runner that it couldn't help but disappoint, so I then approached A Thousand Splendid Suns with such low expectations that it had a relatively easy time pleasing me.  So, I guess that's the life lesson here: if you want to be happy, it's probably best to keep your expectations low. 

First, I feel it necessary to point out that the same things that bugged me about The Kite Runner ultimately bothered me in A Thousand Splendid Suns.  In my experience, reading a Hosseini novel feels a bit like watching a Lifetime Original Movie: it can be a very entertaining way to spend one's time, however with foreshadowing that clunky, a plot that annoyingly predicable and a resolution that neat, it's really sort of impossible to take the whole thing too seriously, regardless of how timely or unique the subject matter.  

But that's not to say that there aren't things worth praising, and to prove that I'm not just being contrary for contrariness's sake here are three things I loved about A Thousand Splendid Suns:

#1: The Female Element

I don't know about you, but it drives me crazy when male authors say they don't write females because they don't understand them.  Like we're so incredibly complex, so wildly different, so...alien that we can't possibly be rendered realistically by a male author.  Good fiction writing demands an empathetic imagination, and writing what you know is easy.  Ignoring 50% of the world's population simply because you aren't in that particular group is lazy and lame.  I love that Hosseini took a chance here by centering his novel around two fully formed, realistic and highly sympathetic female characters.  I'm sure it wasn't easy, but he took the risk and I think he did a great job.

#2: The Message of Female Unity and Empowerment

Hosseini didn't just create two female protagonists; he created two badass female protagonists. Timid Mariam comes from a childhood of abuse, extreme poverty and rejection, while outspoken Laila was born into a relatively modern, well-educated and loving family. These two very different women are brought together when separate tragedies force them to wed the same man, a man who submits them both to unspeakable abuse. Although their relationship is understandably rocky at first, they develop a incredibly tight bond that sustains them through their darkest moments.  In a society that is brutal and dehumanizing to women, Mariam and Laila become each other's saviors and refuse to stop fighting for themselves and for each other.  No man is coming to save them, so instead they save themselves.

#3: America Isn't the Goal

I hope I'm not giving too much away, but no, the war-weary characters don't find refuge in America. While it's wonderful that many refugees can and do escape the countries that oppress them, I think it's dangerously myopic to keep perpetuating this ethnocentric idea that 1) America (or any other Western country) is the ultimate solution the the Third World's problems, and 2) that all Third Worlders dream of escape. In the end, the characters in Hosseini's story elect to remain in Afghanistan. Despite all the havoc left in the Taliban's wake, they still love their country and they feel a certain sort of responsibility to stay behind and rebuild it.  There's plenty to admire about America, but there's plenty to admire about other countries and cultures as well, even those countries that may be a bit worse for the wear.

So in sum, maybe Khaled Hosseini hasn't bowled me over with his literary skills, but there's plenty to praise in A Thousand Splendid Suns.  It ain't perfect, but it's pretty good, and for what it's worth I think it's better than The Kite Runner.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Khaled Hosseini

2007, 367 pages

monday book review: child 44, by tom rob smith

How do you stop a serial killer operating in a State where one of the fundamental pillars is that crime does not exist? Set in Stalin's Soviet Union, Child 44 - part political thriller, part murder mystery, and part horror story - is the gripping exploration of that very question.

Leo Demidov is a high-ranking MGB officer who has dedicated his adult life to rooting out enemies of the State, and in the process is responsible for sending innumerable innocent citizens to the Gulags or marking them for execution. A loyal member of the Party, it never occurs to Leo that these people may be innocent until one particular arrest and subsequent interrogation causes him to call everything he once believed into question.

With this one crack, the foundation of Leo's life as a rich, powerful and respected State Security Officer begins to crumble. No longer certain of his work, his confidence weakens and all past cases become shadowed in doubt, in particular that of little Arkady Andreev, the son of one of Leo's MGB subordinates, whose mangled, lifeless body had been found discarded along the railroad tracks. Despite eyewitness evidence suggesting the boy was brutally murdered, Leo - working in a system that cannot acknowledge the crime's existence because to do so would suggest an imperfect society - labeled the boy's death an accident.

Leo's paradigm shift also makes him vulnerable to an ambitious enemy in the MGB, a man who manages to undermine Leo's credibility so much that he suffers a severe demotion and is forced to abandon a life of relative luxury in Moscow with his beautiful wife for a hovel in the depressed, rural village of Voualsk. It is here that Leo, now a low-ranking member of the militia, discovers that little Arkady's murder may not be an isolated incident, but rather the work of a very prolific serial killer. Conducting their own secret investigation, Leo and his wife soon discover that as many as 44 children may have fallen victim to a man the State refuses to admit exists. No longer willing to safely toe the company line, the Demidovs set out to find the killer and stop him themselves, despite the fact that doing so makes them political dissidents and prime candidates for the Gulags or worse.

Typically not my thing, I usually pass on political thrillers, but Child 44 was one of those titles that I couldn't seem to escape, so I was naturally curious to see if it was deserving of all the hype. And after tearing through all 400+ pages in a matter of days, I'd say yes, indeed it is. While it's true that Smith's simple prose won't exactly blow your mind, the compelling story he weaves makes for one gripping read. Although a beast in size, it can be tackled fairly quickly, and the entire time I was reading I couldn't help but think it would make for one terrific movie. (Turns out I'm not the only one who thought this. Ridley Scott committed to direct the film before the book was even published.) The novel does have its flaws, however. My enjoyment was lessened by a late twist that felt far too neat considering the complexity of the plot that had unfolded up to that point, and as I've already mentioned Smith's simple sentences are nothing to gush over. But hey - they can't all be high art, people.  As far as most literary thrillers go, it's far better than most.

In sum, it may not win any awards, but Child 44 is an incredibly ambitious debut from an author to watch and one terrific read. I highly recommend checking it out.

Child 44
Tom Rob Smith
436 pages, 2008

monday book review: the complete persepolis, by marjane satrapi

I am not a comic book person. Honestly, I'm not even a "graphic novel" person. But I love art, and I love stories, and I love it when stories teach me things, so I figured that I couldn't go wrong with a book that managed to combine these three loves. Thus, when I realized I could trade a few crappy old movies for The Complete Persepolis, I was so excited that I actually did a little dance in my dining room. True story. (I love Swaptree!) But I digress...

If you've read Art Spiegelman's brilliant, Pulitzer Prize-winning Maus: A Survivor's Tale, then you should easily be able to wrap your head around Persepolis - a memoir in the form of a graphic novel. (Or, rather, several graphic novels, since both Spiegelman and Satrapi chose to release their stories in multiple volumes. I am reviewing The Complete Persepolis, which is actually two graphic novels: The Story of a Childhood and The Story of a Return.) Like Maus, Persepolis uses art to tell a personal story while also educating its reader on a particular history and culture. Also like Maus, it's brilliant and wholly worth your time, even if you, like me, claim that comic books aren't really your thing.

Persepolis is the coming-of-age story of Marjane Satrapi, an Iranian woman who is both the author as well as the protagonist. Her story begins in 1980 when Marjane was 10 years old. The Iranian Revolution had just taken place the previous year, and thanks to it, Marjane and her educated, liberal mother are both forced to wear the traditional Islamic veil. Coming from a very free-thinking household, the Satrapis have a difficult time adhering to the new regime, and Marjane's childhood is full of rebellion. She loves punk music, refuses to wear her veil properly, delights in pointing out the hypocrisy of her teachers, and follows her parents on political demonstrations. Eventually, her parents recognize that Marjane's outspokenness is putting her in increasing danger, so at age fourteen she is sent to live in Vienna where she experiences freedom and liberation, but also learns what it's like to be a Iranian immigrant in Western society. After spending four years in Vienna, Marjane returns home to Iran and discovers that while her Iranian heritage made her an outsider in Europe, her Western life has made her an outsider in her own homeland.

For a simply drawn, black-and-white graphic novel, Persepolis is a complex little thing. It's a breeze to read, yet incredibly thought-provoking. I think I learned more about the history of modern Iran from this book than I had from reading any number of newspaper and magazine articles on the subject. Furthermore, I gained an empathy for the Iranian people that one can't truly get from a newspaper or a magazine. While it's easy to dismiss the majority of Iranians as religious and political extremists, Marjane's story suggests that many Iranians are more like her - scared, rebellious and frustrated with the regime - than like the extremists the media tends to focus on. It's easy to see a veil rather than a individual, however Marjane's story reveals that although our politics may be different, we really have more things in common than we have differences to separate us.

All-in-all, I may not love comic books, but I loved Persepolis. It's smart, edgy, funny and sad, and I would recommend it to absolutely anyone.

The Complete Persepolis

Marjane Satrapi

352 pages, 2003, 20007