Tuesday, July 17, 2007
books: no one belongs here more than you, stories by miranda july
Seeing as it's only July and this will be book #20 out of 24, it's become increasingly clear that my original goal of one book every two weeks will be met, thus I'm no longer counting. To be honest, I had originally toyed with tackling 52 this year but figured that goal would be ridiculous. Clearly it wasn't. Some people have hobbies. Some people have babies. Me, I have books. Yay me.

Anyway...

No one belongs here more than you
is Miranda July's (You and Me and Everyone We Know) first collection of short fiction. Like the characters in her film, each story is centered around a outcast of sorts. Many of them are insufferably lonely, all of them yearn, and most are a bit odd, but there's a quirky, endearing quality about each that makes them accessible and fundamentally likeable. Although the characters are far from normal - one woman gives swimming lessons to octogenarians in her kitchen, another another falls in love with her married neighbor while she naps on his shoulder as he's suffering from an epileptic seizure - she somehow manages to create a universal humanity in them that allows the reader to relate when she might not expect to.

The stories are funny, awkward, sad, surprising and insightful - often all at the same time. And I loved them. My favorites were "Birthmark," "This Person," "Something That Needs Nothing," and "Mon Palisir," but I've read each story at least twice and anticipate going back into them in the weeks to come. I love Miranda July. I want to be her friend, bake her cookies and watch old movies with her. Take this, the last moment from "The Shared Patio," as an example of why:
Do you have doubts about your life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: that is for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise.
Yes.

Up Next: God is Dead, by Ron Currie, Jr.

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Thursday, January 03, 2008
books: 2007
There are really only two areas of pop culture that I feel I can discuss with any amount of credibility (a statement which is still a bit of a stretch), and since I've already written ad nauseum about the music I liked in '07, I felt a little guilty not talking about the books I liked too, a guilt I'd like to resolve today. And although I guess talking '07 is sort of passe by now, I still want to.

So I will. Darn it.

And so here it is - my favorite literary moments of 2007. Should you be interested, I've linked to the more thorough reviews previously posted on each title (reviews that were written by me, so do be sure to temper those expectations).

Central question: What would happen to the world should humans suddenly disappear? The answer: boy, we sure have made a mess, but nature is nothing if not persistent.

With a voice that is uniquely her own, her stories are precious, awkward, silly, unsettling and strange. I pretty much loved each one, although "Shared Patio" and "Something That Needs Nothing" are my favorites.

Favorite Title that I Suppose is Technically Young-Adult Fiction, but When You Really Think About it So is The Catcher in the Rye, So Who Really Cares?: The Dead Fathers Club, by Matt Haig
For those of you paying attention I've already gushed on about this book to the point of absurdity, so it's probably best I not repeat what I've already said both here and here.

Favorite Title that Scared Me in Ways I'm Not Quite Used to Being Scared: A Good and Happy Child, by Justin Evans
Is the kid crazy? Is be possessed by a demon? Who knows, but the road I traveled while pondering the questions was smart, unsettling, and dark. These are all things that I find tremendously pleasing.

I never did get around to giving this beautiful little book a proper review and for that I am sorry because I truly loved it and should have pushed it on more people. The title comes from the last few lines of Dante's Inferno, and the story is melancholic, heart-rending and beautiful in the way that a tale about standing in hell and somehow finding the hope to look towards the heavens should be.

Favorite Title for Making Me Laugh: I Love You, Beth Cooper, by Larry Doyle
Denis Coverman - a true nerd's nerd - takes his first real risk when he throws it all on the line to professes his love for the most popular girl in school during his graduating valedictorian speech, and the aftermath is a hilarious train wreck that you never really want to look away from. I laughed from start to finish, although through gritted teeth.

There's a reason this book is on almost every "best of 2007" list I've stumbled across. It's fantastic, and you should read it.


Other Scattershot Book-Related Thoughts on '07:

The One Title I Wish I Would Have Read Before Compiling This List: Out Stealing Horses, by Per Petterson
It made the top ten list for Entertainment Weekly, The New York Times, Time Magazine and more, so even if it doesn't sound much like my thing I expect I'll be getting around to it sometime this month.

The Book Whose Glowing Praise I Didn't Quite Agree With: Then We Came to the End, by Joshua Ferris
I appreciate the sort of Catch-22 meets The Office tale Ferris was trying to spin, but try as I might I couldn't get past the first person collective point of view. Lots of other people seemed to like it, though, so perhaps you shouldn't take my word for it.

The Book I Probably Should Have Tried Harder On, But Just Couldn't Find the Will to Do So: Tree of Smoke, by Denis Johnson
Perhaps it's every bit as brilliant as everyone said, but I couldn't get past page 70 so I wouldn't know. Not my thing.

Best Book Event of the Year Decade: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by JK Rowling
As if this is a point that bears repeating...

Best Film Adaptation of a Novel: No Country for Old Men
I'd be terribly shocked if this doesn't get a best picture nomination. It's a jagged little pill to swallow, but a damn fine movie based on a damn fine book.

The Book Whose Film Buzz I'm the Most Curious About: The Raw Shark Texts, by Steven Hall
Last I heard it's going to happen, but I can't for the life of me imagine how. Some stories are better left to the imagination, and I fear this might be one of them.

Saddest Literary Event: Kurt Vonnegut's passing.

Book-Related Thing that I Found Most Irksome: JK Rowling's announcement that Dumbledore is gay.
So's Walt Whitman, Ursula Le Guin, Achilles, Bert 'n' Ernie and my cousin Scott. So what?

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Tuesday, June 26, 2007
books: 17 down, 7 to go: the road
The Road (Cormac McCarthy) - in masculine, Hemingwayesque prose that is often poetic in its fragmented simplicity - tells the story of a man and his son tenaciously clinging to survival, hope and one another set against a post-apocalyptic landscape. This book has gotten an awful lot of hype as of recent (as both a Pulitzer and a nod from Oprah will tend to do) and I'm not sure what I could say that hasn't already been said by countless others, so rather than ramble on, allow me to instead include two passages that together encapsulate everything that I found The Road to be: brutal, violent, and haunting, yet beautiful and tender all at once.

They scrabbled through the charred ruins of houses they would not have entered before. A corpse floating in the black water of a basement among the trash and rusting ductwork. He stood in a livingroom partly burned and open to the sky. The waterbuckled boards sloping away into the yard. Soggy volumes in a bookcase. He took one down and opened it and then put it back. Everything damp. Rotting. In a drawer he found a candle. No way to light it. He put it in his pocket. He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the interstate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like groundfoxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common providence in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes. So, he whispered to the sleeping boy, I have you.


Up Next: No One Belongs Here More Than You, by Miranda July

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