An Arsonist's Guide To Writers' Homes in New England

An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England

by Brock Clarke

2007

303 pages

ISBN: 978-1-56512-551-3

So this book was recommended to me by Dan during my epic birthday recommend-a-thon. I admit that I had given it the once over a couple of times when it appeared in various bookstore displays, the title is clearly an eye-catcher, but I resisted the urge to purchase until I was gong wild with birthday money.

I want to say good things here about the Barnes and Noble manager that was working at the store I went to on my birthday. After getting recommendations from tons of friends, looking up a little more about the books that they had suggested, deciding which I was really dying to read, and making a list... I left said list on my desk. I went up to customer service and told him the title (or something close to the title) for 3 or 4 books that I was looking for and then, after we had walked around the store, hunting for and finding one of them on sale, 2 others that I managed to remember while we were looking. Not only did he find them all for me, but he told me NOT to buy his trade paperback copy of this book, because he was sure that I would be able to get the remaindered hardcover on the website for $5. Now I'm sure that it was obvious to him as we walked around and added to my enormous pile of books that I am the type of customer that Barnes and Noble wants to keep happy, but still, he didn't have to do that. And he certainly didn't have to come find me when I was browsing to give me a little slip of paper with the ISBN for the cheaper edition so that I would be able to find it right away when I went to the site. He was great. So thanks to him.

Anyway, I found some parts of this book extremely amusing, and others rather annoying. Overall, Clarke has succeeded in creating a cast of characters so wildly unlikable that they're interesting, headed by a protagonist who amazes you not in that he manages to mess up his own life so spectacularly, but more that he manages to do it so efficiently when he seems like such a "bumbler." Then Clarke takes these hapless, incapable, flawed people and places them a series of situations so insanely implausible, so absurd, that sometimes you can't help but shake your head in disbelief.

Yet most of it works. There are some things that don't, certainly; the dinner scene with Sams soon-to-be-ex-in-laws got past my last nerve for example, but most of it is really quite good. Perhaps a bit overplotted, and the turn towards tragedy at the end felt a little bit forced, but certainly worth it for the shiningly funny moments.

Apparently this is Clarke's 4th novel, at least according to the review that Dan sent with his recommendation. That reviewer thought that it seemed like a debut, and I have to agree... although for different reasons. For me this book was rough around the edges, but showed some real promise... the kind of thing that you expect from someone with raw talent who's just starting out. I'm not sure if Clarke, who apparently teaches just up the street, should take that as a compliment or an insult.

Juliet, Naked

Juliet, Naked
by Nick Hornby
2009
406 pages
ISBN: 978-1-59448-887-0
Cincinnati Public Library

I requested this from the library as soon as I got home from the bookstore where I saw it on the shelf. Thinking about it, that was a kind of blind optimism based on the fact that I liked Hornby's earliest books, the movies-made-them-famous High Fidelity and About a Boy. Since then, I have found my affection somewhat waning. How To Be Good was really only good. My thoughts on A Long Way Down are there for your perusal if you so choose, but can sum it up with the fact that I didn't like it enough to keep track of it. I either donated or lent it away to the big library in the sky, because that once owned copy is not on the shelf here now. As for his 2007 YAish novel Slam, it's so forgettable that I actually forgot that I read it. As in, when I saw it on the list of Hornby's books, I thought "Oh, I'll have to find a copy of that one," only to realize upon closer inspection that I had read it already. I know that I read a lot, but that is not a compliment.

Juliet, Naked bucks the trend. It is a true return to the Nick Hornby that I loved so long ago. This book is sweet and sarcastic with characters that are delightfully real and lovable for all their dramatic and obvious flaws. The characters are what this book is all about, and while you wonder what is going to happen, what you are really wondering is what is going to happen to them. The events here gain most of their significance from their effect on the people involved. The relationships between the characters are the real charm of this novel, especially the relationship between Tucker and his adorable son Jackson, which is a real highlight.

In Juliet, Naked Hornby does to the obsessive website creating song analyzing fan what he did to the obsessive record collector in High Fidelity, shows them all their warts and insanity, and leaves them human none the less. He does this well I suppose, although I found myself feeling bad for them (and perhaps a little scornful) in a distant sort of way as I read the book. Long after I finished I realized that I actually wrote my big term paper in high school on Adam Duritz of the Counting Crows as an American poet. Perhaps I should have related to them more (although I would certainly not spend my vacation on a tour of significant places in Duriz's life).

This is a charming and delightful read, and would be a pretty good introduction to Hornby for the uninitiated. It reminds us all that sometimes the people around us can see us far more clearly than we see ourselves, and maybe, sometimes we should listen to what they tell us.

The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil

The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil
by George Saunders
2005
130 pages
ISBN: 978-1-59448-152-9

This book was suggested to me during my birthday recommendation blitz by Jack O'Brien. He gets credit for recommending several favorites, including The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Gunslinger. (Which is the first book in Stephen King's Dark Tower series, I read the whole 7 books in like two and a half weeks. It might take you longer. I still recommend it)

Anyway, I knew the basic story of Phil, because Jack adapted it for the stage during his senior year in college, and I managed to make it down for a performance. That show was a lot of fun to watch, but I have to admit that some of the funniest parts of this book are the little details that don't translate well to the stage. For example, in the book, Phil's brain falls off its rack from time to time, while on the stage, Phil's brain seemed to remain contained within his cranium. Some actors just aren't willing to truly sacrifice for their craft.

I would say that this qualifies more as a novella than a novel. Easily read in a single day. That is probably the right format for Saunders hilariously irreverent and critical take on human nature. If this piece was much longer, the jokes might have gotten old or started to seem a little bit too absurd, but at 130 pages everything maintains the glow of clever and fun. I highly recommend a trip to Outer and Inner Horner for any fans of political satire, it'll be a short vacation for most readers, but one well worth the effort. You might just find yourself laughing out loud.

Nocturnes

Nocturnes
by John Connolly
2006
471 pages
ISBN: 978-1-4165-3460-0

My previous experience with John Connolly's work has been nothing short of delightful. The Book of Lost Things is a wonderfully dark and chilling interpretation of the stories from our childhood. His recent offering, The Gates is a fresh and funny story about a young boy literally trying to stop all hell from breaking loose. While both of these books have been classified as "young adult," I imagine that is largely (solely) due to their pre-teen protagonists. (You would think that the idea that only children can enjoy books about children would have been blown out of the water by a certain wizard.) I think that neither of these is best suited to the younger set, and will continue to recommend both left and right to adult readers. In a recent review on LibraryThing, I compared the footnotes and humor in The Gates to the work of the late great Douglas Adams... and anyone who's read my notes on And Another Thing... knows that I consider that high praise indeed.

With that in mind, imagine my delight to find Nocturnes, Connolly's book of short stories, sitting all alone on the "Last Chance" super bargain table at Barnes and Noble when I walked in, on my birthday, gift cards blazing and on a mission to make up for months of serious book-buying restraint.

Nocturnes turned out not to be at all what I expected. It is as different from The Gates and The Book of Lost Things as the two are from each other, but also nearly as wonderful. The stories here are darker by far than I expected to encounter, but most are also quite gripping.

Many of the pieces here in this collection were originally written for BBC radio, and most are quite short. While some of these shorter pieces are particular gems, including "Mr. Pettinger's Daemon," "The New Daughter" and "Miss Froom, Vampire," others are less successful. Connolly shines most when he gives himself some room to work. The opening novella, "The Cancer Cowboy Rides" is one of the most deeply creepy pieces of writing I've read in some time. As in, I can't put it down even though it's 1:30am, better go check the locks, cuddle a little closer to the sleeping fiancee creepy. It's good stuff. "The Underbury Witches" was so much fun that I sat in the waiting room at the spa long long after my toenails were dry in order to finish it. "The Reflecting Eye" a novella featuring Charlie Parker (who apparently stars in many of Connolly's adult fiction), is entertaining enough that I found myself considering the idea of adding some of those to the ever growing TBR pile.

Overall, this collection is strong, if a little uneven. And it is not just the Maine setting of several of these stories that calls to mind the shorter works of Stephen King. I would say of Connolly's work here something very similar to what I've said about King's short fiction in the past (and I admit that I am an enthusiastic fan)... When he hits the nail on the head, it's glorious, creepy, you'll-be-thinking-about-it-for-days, eerie wonderfulness. And when he misses, he just misses, so it's still a good time. Overall, this is more fun than I've had off the bargain table in a while.

And Another Thing...

November 13, 2009 - November 17, 2009
And Another Thing...
by Eoin Colfer
2009
275 pages
ISBN: 978-1-4013-2358-2

First, some background. Douglas Adams was an epically, uniquely talented and hilariously funny writer. Tragically, he died of a heart attack in 2001. I remember reading about his passing at the time and feeling a real sense of loss. I was a senior in high school at that point, and I loved his books (I still do.) For me it was the first time that I was aware of an author I truly adored passing away. I felt very sad and a little cheated. I think a lot of people did. Adams was only 49, and I am willing to bet that he had a lot more to say. We are all missing out on something there.

Adams is most famous for the five books of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy. (No, that is not a typo). These are among my favorite books of all time. I have a beautiful leather bound all in one volume that has occupied a position of pride on my bookshelf for many years. It's one of the few books in my library with an actual bookplate, as in I would be epically pissed if you stole it. I have hundreds of books, I can only think of 5 that I would be hesitant to lend, and this is one of them. The Hitchhiker's Guide holds a very special place in my heart. (The movie however, does not.)

Which is why I was simultaneously very excited and very nervous when I read that someone had taken it upon themselves to write part a six of the trilogy. I am not familiar with Colfer or his other work aside from the basic level of name recognition, so I was not at all confident that he was qualified to pick up where one of the greats left off. (I should note that I also wasn't at all confident that Adams "left off" at all, the fifth book ends pretty endily.) Still, the publication had the full support of his estate, so I let hope win, and requested it from the library. (Still not buying hardcovers.)

There are good things to be said about Colfer's work in this book, but Douglas Adams he is not. Especially at the beginning I was frustrated by some pretty serious flaws. In fact, not too far in I found myself thinking that the book was inadvertently describing itself with the Adams quote that it uses on the cover... "The storm had now definitely abated, and what thunder there was now grumbled over more distant hills, like a man saying 'And another thing' twenty minutes after admitting he's lost the argument."

Colfer does not do justice to the Hitchiker's Guide's most beloved characters. Zaphoid is duller, Arthur just doesn't sound like himself, Ford seems to have lost a good bit of his charm. He also doesn't seen to grasp the beauty of the randomness of Adams. In the other Hitchhiker's books, the Guide excerpts are delightfully disconnected asides that never seem to interfere with the flow of the tale at hand. They are the random and hilarious musings of a wonderful mind. Colfer's Guide excepts are set off from the text, seem more like interruptions, and are far too frequent and far less charming. Colfer also seems to grasp far too tightly to a few words and references from the other books ("froody" comes to mind) and beat them into the ground.

But it's not all bad. I suppose it's not surprising that the places where this book shines are the portions that Colfer has made his own, adding something of his own to the wacky Hitchhiker's Universe. The residents of the planet Nano are wonderfully absurd. Thor is a real winner both as a character, and it turns out, as a God. The second half of the book is far more readable than the first. There are times when you really do feel like you are back in Adams' zany world.

All in all, I think that fans of the series will find something to like here, but only if they can go into it with the right expectations. This is not a true sixth Hitchhiker's volume, but it is a loving and sincere tribute to Adams from a well intentioned admirer. It is also a foray back into a universe that I, for one, have really missed.

Of course, if you haven't read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy or the other four books in the original series, you really should stop spending their time reading my pathetic little blog and go pick it up. I promise you will find it far more entertaining than anything that I'll come up with in the next couple of days.

In that spirit, and with a nod to the fact that I am writing this instead of studying for a large and looming Brain and Behavior exam, I will close with one of my all time favorite Adams quotes:

" I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."

Oliver Twist

November 5, 2009- November 13, 2009
Oliver Twist
by Charles Dickens
1838
Read on the Sony Digital Book
989 pages
ISBN: 978-1-4340-0061-3

I picked this up after reading Daniel Pearl's The Last Dickens. I wanted to read some actual Dickens because Pearl's book relies on his shocking popularity in his own day. Really, Charles Dickens was something like a rock star, sold out American tour and all that. So I figured I'd take an opportunity to actually read one of his books, to try to understand what inspired that kind of enthusiasm. Especially since my only prior experience was enforced skimming of Great Expectations in English class at Miss Porter's, which didn't really deliver the fun.

Anyway, Oliver Twist was a pretty good read, not life altering, but I certainly enjoyed it. I found that it picked up a lot in the last 1/3, and I read the last 250 pages or so all on one day. I admit that I feel like I might have gotten more out of it with a couple of clarifying footnotes, which is the disadvantage of reading the freeish digital book version over one that's pricier and annotated, but I'll live.

I'll give old Charles credit for keeping me involved for almost 1000 digital pages when I had a pile of recently requested library books actually turning up, and a bigger pile of birthday related book binge purchases, all calling my name. I never once thought of putting it down.

And for our next project... Andrew and I are going to read one of Dickens novels in the serial as if it's coming out for the first time. We've decided to go with one of the monthlies since that way there should be some actual waiting involved, but we haven't picked which one yet. This is a project for the new year, so there is time to voice your opinions if you so choose. Wikipedia tells me that the following options were published as monthly serials: The Pickwick Papers, The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit, Dombey and Son, David Copperfield, Bleak House, Little Dorrit and Our Mutual Friend. Andrew's already read Pickwick, which almost completely eliminates it from contention (he wants to read it again, but I think that it defeats the point of the exercise).

I would rather read one that I have heard of before, although I've realized as I've looked into this that I really know NOTHING at all about most of these books. Really. A Christmas Carol: I know pretty well (and yes, from reading it, not just movies). Great Expectations: I know well enough to think that the South Park episode spoofing it is HILARIOUS. Beyond that: Oliver Twist = orphan, Tale of Two Cities = "best of times, worst of times" Edmond Drood = unfinished. And we're done. I don't have the slightest idea what made David Copperfield or Nicholas Nickleby worthy of title character status.

The thing is, I am not sure that I want to know anything about the stories before I read them in serial, because I don't think that dust jacket summaries and reviews were part of the genuine monthly serial experience. This, obviously, makes selection of the title for this project a bit of a challenge. Cryptic suggestions might be helpful. Right.

Sarum

So I've read several of Rutherfurd's books in the past, and they all seem to follow the basic format of picking a location (past examples, London (in, well, London) and Dublin (in The Princes of Ireland and The Rebels of Ireland)) and following several families through the history of the location from the earliest people to something like the present day. In Sarum this location is the area surrounding modern-day Salisbury, England. The book is enormous, over 1000 pages, but it's still an enjoyable read. Some of the sections are far more entertaining than others, there were certainly points when I wondered what the point of a particular scene was, but overall, the novel was fun to read. I was disappointed with the ending, but I suppose nobody's perfect.

One of the things that I really enjoy about these books are the history lessons that I get out of reading them. I've said it before I know, but I really do think that I know more history from reading historical fiction than I do from actually reading history... but perhaps it is just that I remember it better when it's plot points and not testable knowledge. Who knows. It's still good stuff.

Want more information on this book, or to see what else I've been reading?
Check out The 2009 booklist.

Songs Without Words

I remember reading Ann Packer's first novel, The Dive From Clausen’s Pier on my mother’s recommendation several years ago, and liking it very very much. In my mind I am reading it in Weathersfield, but it came out in 2002, so either it was a summer read or my mind in playing tricks on me. Couldn’t tell you which for the life of me. Anyway, I had glanced over and passed over Songs Without Words several times since it came out, and when I saw it at the library (free!), I decided to finally pick it up.

Before reading the book itself, I read the summary on the inside of the dust jacket, which starts with the following sentence: “Ann Packer’s debut novel, The Dive From Clausen’s Pier, was a nationwide best seller that established her as one of our most gifted chronicles of the interior lives of women.”

That kind of introduction not only made me slightly skeptical about this book, it made me wonder if I had really liked The Dive From Clausen’s Pier as much as I remembered. “Oh dear.” I thought. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means… the dreaded CHICK LIT.”

But that was indeed what it meant, at least for this book. Song Without Words is a portrayal of the friendship between two women, Sarabeth and Liz, and how that friendship is tested by a challenging time for Liz’s family. The book just didn’t take off. Neither of these main characters were overly compelling or sympathetic, I found Liz’s husband annoying, and I was very unsure what Packer was trying to accomplish with the character of Liz’s son, which I suppose means she didn’t accomplish it. The only character I found even remotely interesting was Liz’s cripplingly depressed daughter, Lauren, but even she seemed one dimensional at times.

Overall, I was disappointed with the book. While I was emotionally invested in Lauren’s recovery, I didn’t care overmuch about the friendship between these women, and I suppose it only mattered that they were reunited in the end because it was obvious that they would have to be. For a book that seems intended to be more about that relationship than any particular plotline, that’s a pretty major failure. Not impressive.

Read something else. Maybe The Dive From Clausen’s Pier, if for no other reason than to tell me if it really is excellent, or if I was just in a chick lit mood when I read it. On that point, I am curious, but not near curious enough to even think about reading it again.

LT: 2 stars, modified excerpt from this.

Want more information on this book, or to see what else I've been reading?
Check out The 2009 booklist.

Island of Lost Girls

I saw this book for the first time on one of those tables in Borders that will eventually be the end of me. On that day, I decided that half off or not, I was only allowed to buy one mystery story about a person trying to solve a modern abduction mystery that might in some way be related to the disappearance of one of their own childhood friends... and on that day, I picked Tana French's In The Woods (Which, by the way is very good. I sat down on a couch over Christmas break during a blizzard, and read the whole thing. It was a wonderful time. It's a good book.)

But then I saw this on the shelf in the library, and decided that if it was free, I didn't have to feel bad about reading it. And last night, when I finished One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest but still couldn't sleep. I picked it up out of the library pile.

It sure as hell didn't help me fall asleep. I started it sometime around 11pm, read about half of it before falling asleep (with it still open in my hand), and I finished the rest of it doing laundry and having my Sunday morning bagel. It's a bit of a page turner.

It's a great mystery. It's two mysteries really, and they're both intriguing. Some of it is predictable, but I still couldn't put the damn thing down.

Sure, when a compulsive reader like Maggie compulsively reads something, it's not news. And I'm not saying that this is the best book of 2008, but if you are looking for a quick read, and you like complex mysteries, it would make a fabulous companion for your next plane ride or beach trip.

Want more information on this book, or to see what else I've been reading?
Check out The 2009 booklist.

The Shadow of the Wind

LT Review:
This is an excellent and thrilling tale with complex and likable characters and a Barcelona setting that becomes a character itself. I was engrossed from the beginning by the complexities of the connections between the characters and their beautifully developed relationships. The history behind the story is gradually fleshed out through a series of flashbacks, but rather than feeling fragmented, it is easy for the reader to remain connected to the emotions the characters must be feeling as they learn the same information. Full of twists, magic and coincidence, heroes and villains (both truly evil and just misunderstood), this is a book that will keep you engaged throughout. A delightful read. (4.5 Stars)

Maggie's thoughts:
So I initially picked this up as a book on tape to listen to driving back and fourth to visit Andrew the Wonderful. When I was buying it, I had apparently forgotten that I live MUCH closer to Andrew than I used to. This is a good thing for pretty much every aspect of my life, except that it means that the drive isn't long enough to finish most audiobooks.
I do have to say, while I only listened to the first half of this book, the recording is WONDERFUL, and if you are an audiobook person, I VERY highly recommend it. It had me sitting in my car outside the hotel and listening while Andrew the Wonderful was at work.
Anyway, I didn't really have time to listen to the rest of the book, but I found myself thinking about the story *all the damn time* so during finals, when I knew that I was going home for break, I went to the bookstore and picked up a copy. I decided that since it had been a couple of weeks and it's a pretty complex story, I would start again at the beginning. I spent part of my evenings at the Mountain View Grand in New Hampshire sitting either in front of the fire or in a wonderfully warm tub getting totally sucked into the story (again). (I should also note, the more important activity of my time in New Hampshire was getting engaged. This is the now the blog of the future Mrs. Andrew the Wonderful!)
I didn't finish the book in NH, and when we got back to my place in CT, where, after reading until I was about 30 pages from the end, I left the book on the bedside table in the basement bedroom.
It would seem that God didn't want me to know the end of the story.
But who cares, because I wanted to know the end of the story, so I got ANOTHER copy at the Cincinnati Public Library, and finally finished the damn thing.

The real point though, is that the book was worth all the effort. It's wonderful. Go read it. Now.

Everything's Eventual

Everything's Eventual
Stephen King
7/18/2008-7/20/2008
LT Rating: 4 stars

LT Review:
I very much enjoyed this collection of short stories by Stephen King. While some of the stories fall clearly within the realm of his reputation as a king of things that go bump in the night, others are more literary, and there are pieces in both categories that really shine.

The best of the bunch: "The Road Virus Heads North" was deeply creepy, and kept me awake and a little antsy for a good bit after I finished it. "The Little Sisters of Eluria" is a great little slice from the life of Roland, of Dark Tower fame, and makes this collection worth picking up for DT series fans. 'Everything's Eventual" is dark, complex, and simply excellent. "Riding the Bullet" is compelling, honest, and somehow finds a balance between feeling driven by a sense of love and feeling driven by a sense of dread.

There really weren't any stories in this collection that I didn't enjoy, although I think that "Luckey Quarter" was the weakest of the set.

Overall, an excellent collection. King says in the introduction that he mourns the short story as a dying art form, (something that he will claim with greater passion in his introduction to The Best American Short Stories: 2007.) With this collection, he laid a powerful reminder in front of me that the genre is a rich a lovely one. I certainly hope that the prognosis is not so bad as it may seem.

Maggie specific thoughts:
My thoughts on my new Stephen King habit are all included in the post for Four Past Midnight. Go find them there

The Time Traveler's Wife

The Time Traveler's Wife
by Audrey Niffenegger

So I have had this book sitting on my shelf ever since I stole it from my mother long long ago on one of my visits home. (I really do just pillage her library...sorry Mom.)

Anyway, I had heard good things about it, but had never gotten around to picking it up, but it was one of the books that jumped out at me as having been on the shelf too long without attention being paid to it when I was making my TBR Challenge 2008 list. Once on the list, it was clear, to me at least, that I would get it read. Today, I realized that I very much needed a break of a little bit from The Wheel of Time (5 volumes and thousands of pages in) so I started this book sitting in Panera this morning...

... and finished it about 10 hours later.

I loved it. I'm not even sure how to explain why I loved it as I did, but I simply could not put it down. I adored the two central characters from the very first page, and felt compelled to know their story, in it's entirety, before I did anything else. (Although I did spend some quality time in Borders this afternoon, because I am a addict, and I needed a book fix.)

This is a love story of the highest caliber. More than that, a story of longing, and the compromises that are part of living and loving with imperfect people. It's a beautiful tale, and I must give Niffenegger credit for her ability to create little phrases just perfect for the moment at hand, five or six words ideally placed together... it's a gift.

I suppose that perhaps part of the reason that I loved this book is how deeply I related to Claire's sense of longing, of missing the one that she loves when he has gone where she can't follow. I feel that way a lot these days, missing Andrew. Time travel and war are perhaps not the same, but the emotion that she describes on the very first page was certainly a part of what pulled me in.

"It's hard to be the one who stays. I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way. I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I'm tired... Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love so intensified by absence?"

Overall, I can say nothing more than that it is a beautiful book, one that left me feeling transfixed and transported, a story that demanded to be read so strongly that I simply couldn't put it down.

Gone Baby, Gone

Things that are dangerous for Maggie to decide:
"Oh, since I have this $100 bill that I need to break, I'll just let myself buy a book when I get to the airport at that Boarders in the terminal, and they'll give me change and I'll have something to read..."

Three books later, I dove into Gone Baby, Gone while sitting and waiting for the plane to Minneapolis to take off. Since I got there super early, and since the plane was delayed, and since I read rather quickly, and since this book is addictive to the point that I am not sure I so much as looked up more than once an hour or so while reading it, I was done with the whole thing with enough time to take a nap before the wheels touched down in Minnesota. Allow me to say that there is not better way to spend a snowy day trapped in an airport/on a plane than with a good thriller like this one.

And a good thriller it is. I have not seen the movie, although I will now be adding it to my netflix, but I can see how an amazing movie could come out of this book. (I should point out, that the bar's pretty high, since Lehane is also responsible for the book that is the basis for one of my favorite movies, Mystic River.)

Anyway, the plot is fast paced without being overwhelming or making the action hard to follow. The characters are reasonably complex and realistically, likably, flawed. There are true villians, and sort of villians, and people who do bad things for good reasons, and I truly didn't have it figured out before the end.

I'm not saying that I would classify this as a great acheivement in literature. It's not. I don't think that it aspires to be. What it does, though, it does well. And there is something to be said for airport the day before the interview ficton. This one makes you think just enough to keep you very busy, but not enough to make you very tired.

Want to see what else I've been reading, or track just how much a bookworm I am:
The 2008 Booklist and Tally

We Need To Talk About Kevin

We Need To Talk About Kevin
by Lionel Shriver
c. 2003
Counterpoint: New York
400 pages

So this book was a Good Morning America book choice back when the cool thing was for TV shows to have a book of the month. The whole "Oprah's book club makes a relative unknown into a bestselling author" trend.

I'm not sure if Good Morning America worked out for Ms. Shriver as well as Oprah might have, I got this book for $1.99 on the Barnes and Noble super clearance shelf, but that doesn't really mean anything.

Anyway, I knew what the book was about to start. It's the story of a kid who ends up going on one of those school shooting rampages a la Columbine. That's not a spoiler, you know that the little boy grows up to be a killer from the beginning. It's a given.

Still the title and the vague remembrance of the discussion on GMA suggested to me that this was going to be a book about the more immediate signs, about the people trying to intervene and failing to prevent the absolute worst, about the hints that an unsuspecting mother should have seen, about the dangers of failing to heed the warning of putting off that "we need to talk about Kevin" conversation with a well meaning and concerned teacher.

And while, in some ways, I suppose it is about that, overall, it's not. This is a book about temperament. This is a book about psychopathy. This is a book about the fact that some of these kids are just born that way, or at least they might be. In this case it certainly seems that way.

Of course, I found that perspective very interesting from an academic standpoint. These are the kinds of kids that we are trying to figure out at work. It's these kids whose brains we're scanning with the hope of finding a way to identify them, and eventually finding a way to understand them enough to be able to help them before they kill 11 people with a crossbow. At least, that's the long term goal.

The book takes the form of letters, written by the mother of Kevin, our mass murderer, to his father. You are meant to think that mom and dad have just separated, I think, but you would have to be dense not to know that Dad is dead. I suppose that is a spoiler, but if you don't smell something wrong when she visits the depressed in-laws alone in the second chapter, then you might not figure it out when she finds him pocurpined with arrows in the back yard either. (It seems I'm feeling a little cynical this evening. Sorry.)

Anyway, in the letters, she describes Kevin's entire development, from birth and a constantly crying infancy though a malicious toddlerhood and so on. And the point, clear from the beginning, is that Kevin was just born this way. She talks about the way that he sees the world, suggesting that he was bored, that he just doesn't see the point of the whole life thing, but of course to me, this screams "neurological! This woman would be interested in our research!"

And maybe she would be, or maybe not, maybe it says something about me that in reading of the polarly opposite personalities that Kevin manages to present to his two parents from a very young age (dad thinks he's a saint, mom senses something much more sinister) I can't help but think what a wonderfully high score the kid would get on impression management.

But it's interesting to watch him develop. I admit that I was very involved in the book, that I enjoyed reading it and found myself not at all upset about time spent waiting for things while it was in my bag. There's something about the reflectiveness of the narrative, the back and forth between her accounts of her current visits with Kevin in prison and the story of his development. You want to understand him, you want to know what's going to happen, even though you already know.

I talked earlier about those books where you know how it ends, but you still need to see how they take it from here to there. This there is distant, particularly horrible, and even though he's a brat, a manipulative little twit from the very beginning, it still seems a long way from start to finish. You need a lot of story to get from crying baby and ruining handmade presents as a toddler, to collecting computer viruses and torturing your younger sister to a killing spree, there's steps in there that somehow I wanted to understand.

But really, there's nothing to understand, nothing that clearly drives him to it, no abuse or horror that causes Kevin to lash out at the world. I think that if I didn't have the perspective of someone who's working on research trying to understand and eventually to help kids that just don't have empathy, kids that don't feel bad when they do something wrong and will manipulate you until they get what they want I would have found this book singularly depression. If we can't figure out their brain chemistry, connectivity, activity and anatomy to maybe hopefully help them, then what's the point of all this. Kevin is not deprived. His parents are wealthy, and though his mother is not totally thrilled with this idea, she stays home with him full time, and his father dotes on him to a level that's almost inexplicable. I'm not saying that everything was perfect, Mom admits that she wasn't sure that she wanted him, admits that she didn't feel that instant connection that mothers are supposed to feel when they hold their children for the first time, and sure, maybe he felt that detachment and it contributed to his development, but this is not the victim of a horrible tortured childhood, at least not an outwardly tortured childhood.

And this is not a book about the failure of parents to recognize signs or the cruelty of children turning children into killers. This is a book about a bad kid. A kid that's destructive and manipulative from his toddler years. It's not like the help came a moment too late and the appointments for the conference that might have saved him were scheduled for that afternoon, until he shot the school up that morning. It seems, reading this account that Kevin was hopeless from the start. Sure, maybe he feels some regret at the thought of his upcoming transfer to adult prison, and yes, in the end maybe his mother still loves him in spite of it all, but this is not a story of hope, not a story of help, not a story in which you feel that if only someone had heeded the advice "we need to talk about Kevin" then maybe this all could have been prevented. It seems like maybe it couldn't have been prevented, that maybe he was too manipulative, too good at the divide and conquer between his parents, too good at getting away with it. It seems reading this that his desire to get away with it is innate. His desire to hurt and punish is something he felt from birth.

And if you believe that he was just born that way, that his temperament was a major, if not the major contributor to the events of Thursday, as it's repeatedly referred to, if you believe that maybe he was just born that way, then what does that say about the world? About humanity? About children?

If we can't prevent this, if this violence is just a part of some of us, and it's out of our control... It's not a pretty picture.

And with that, I'm going to get back to scheduling some target kids for scans... Because again, even here, I choose hope.

A Long Way Down

A Long Way Down
by Nick Hornby
c. 2005
Riverhead Books: New York
333 pages

So I liked Nick Hornby's other books, especially High Fidelity, so when I saw this one on the "New in Paperback" table at Barnes and Noble, I decided to pick it up as a good bit of summer reading. In the end, it's not as good as High Fidelity, but this was an entertaining read.

A Long Way Down is about four people: Martin, JJ, Jess and Maureen. The story is told in sections with the narration switching between all four perspectives. They meet on the top of a building on New Years Eve. All of them have come there to jump, but none of them do. The book follows them for the next three months or so, documenting how their lives and relationships change after they choose to keep on living.

But it's not a warm fuzzy book, and these are truly flawed characters. In particular, Jess is NUTS, and highly annoying. She's abrasive, she attacks people verbally, with clear intent to harm. You hate her, and at the same time, you feel for her, and feel bad for her, because sometimes, life sucks. (As an aside, in the sections that are written from her perspective, there are no quotation marks, or as she calls them "speech marks" because she supposedly doesn't know how to use them. While not knowing how to use quotation marks was a cute little character point, and I can see where it helped the author to distinguish her style from the other characters, something that must have been part of the challenge of writing the novel from four different perspectives, it only made any dialogue in her sections difficult to read to the point where I think that something was lost in the absence of flow, but that might be just me.)

If you've read Hornby in the past, and you enjoyed his stuff, then by all means, pick this one up, although you can probably live with a library copy, because there's not so much meat to this one that you'll want to read it again, or passages so quotable that you'll want them around for reference when you are having that sort of day. This book is readable, it was a loverly poolside companion this past weekend, and I was compelled to stay up later to finish it off, but it will not be cracking any of my top fives.

If you haven't read Hornby, stop reading my gibberish and go read High Fidelity because that one is most definitely worth it.

One other little thing that I found highly amusing...

At some point in the novel, they start something of a book club, deciding to read books by authors that have killed themselves, in this section Jess said something that I just loved,

"We started with Virginia Woolf, and I only read like two pages of this book about a lighthouse, but I read enough to know why she killed herself: She killed herself because she couldn't make herself understood. You only have to read one sentence to see that." (page 189).

Now I'm not saying that I think that Virginia Wolfe was not a brilliant writer, but I can say that I did find the beginning of To The Lighthouse more than a tad bit dense the first time that I read it, and therefore, I found this reference amusing.

Also, randomly but amusingly, Jess starts this chapter with a reference to a poem that her character has never read, which also amused me. She says, "Someone should write a song or something called 'They Fuck You Up, Your Mom and Dad." Which of course is the first line of a highly amusing poem, which I will include here, because if you have not read it, you should have, and it's in moments like this that I can contribute the to education of the masses.

This Be The Verse
by Phillip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mom and dad
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-stylen hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can
And don't have any kids yourself.

The Life of Pi

The Life of Pi

by Yann Martel

c. 2001

Harcourt, Inc.: Orlando

319 pages

Ryan Pipkie gets credit for leading me to this one, even though it has been on my list of things needing reading for quite some time. Sitting in my room on the Wednesday evening when he and Heather randomly came to visit, he said that this was one of the books that made him get lost, made him sit down and read for hours on end. And then, like so many other good books, it was on the Summer Reading table at Barnes and Noble... which made it even easier to keep it in mind when I was looking for things to keep me reading.

This book has three parts, and all three of them are beautiful. In the first, Piscine Patel tells of growing up in India as the son of a zookeeper. Along the way, he learns to fear tigers, changes his name to Pi (as in 3.14...) and discovers the wonders of religions, simultaneously practicing Hinduism, Christianity, and Islam.

The most powerful parts of this first section are Pi's comments on faith and doubt. One of my favorites.

"I'll be honest about it, it's not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We all must pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we... But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation." (page 28).

The conflict between Pi's three religions makes an appearance when the leaders of all three groups simultaneously converge on Pi and his family as they are out in the city. They all begin by complimenting Pi on his piety, but quickly switch to demanding that he "pick one."

I found these passages particularly interesting, because of my own view on God and religion, my belief that in many ways, all religions are true as long as you are using them as a means of striving for a truth based on love and compassion. Pi takes this idea, and allows it to and his faith to lead him to the practice of multiple religions, whereas I have taken it to allow me to talk to God and try to find reasons and faith on my own... the politics that come with organization can be so daunting when all that really matters is faith.

In the second section, Pi and his family depart for a new life in Canada aboard a ship with many of the animals from their zoo. Tragically the ship sinks, leaving Pi the sole human survivor aboard a lifeboat with a zebra with a broken leg, an orangutan, a hyena and a tiger named Richard Parker. Soon only he and Richard Parker remain, and Pi must survive a long and challenging period at sea with only the tiger as a companion. He decides to tame the tiger, to assert himself as the alpha male. At the point of this decision, there is a particularly wonderful passage about the nature of fear, which I'll quote in part, just because I like it.

"I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. ... It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. Then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy... You become anxious. Reason comes to do battle for you. You are reassured. Reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons and technology. But to your amazement, despite superior tactics and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. You feel yourself weakening, wavering. Your anxiety becomes dread.... Quickly you make rash decisions. You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. There, you've defeated yourself. Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you." (page 161-162).

They survive and land in Mexico. (That's not a spoiler, the story is told from the perspective of an author who writes during a series of interviews with an adult Pi.) This second section of the book is the longest, and beautifully written. It's the reason that you should read the book yourself, because it is a wonderful story, and nothing that I can say here will do it justice.

The third section of the book consists of interviews with employees of the shipping company that owned the ship that sank and left Pi to his ocean adventure. In this section, Pi tells his story and is met with disbelief. And the reader is left to choose between two options, faith and doubt. Because in the end, this is a book about faith, and not only the faith of Pi and the moments of doubt that go through his ordeal, but also the faith of the reader. The reader is left to struggle with their own willingness to suspend doubt and accept things that seem totally absurd and impossible. They are left to choose between faith and doubt, between a greater and a lesser story.

The choice of the reader is the same as the deathbed choice that is presented in Chapter 22.

"I can well imagine an atheist's last words: 'White, white! L-L-Love! My God!' - and the deathbed leap of faith. Whereas the agnostic, if he stays true to his reasonable self, if he stays beholden to dry, yeastless factuality, might try to explain the warm light bathing him by saying, 'Possibly f-f-falling oxygenation of the b-b-brain,' and to the very end, lack imagination and miss the better story." (page 64).

In the beginning, it is claimed that this is "a story that will make you believe in God" (page x). But I still don't think that any story can really do that in an unwilling heart. There are stories that can for many people, but we have all heard these stories, and two are among the first that the author supposes when he asks if the story he is about to hear takes place "two thousand years ago in a remote corner of the Roman Empire" or "in seventh century Arabia." If those stories, and all of the smaller stories that we're all faced with every day, the stories where we find ourselves surrounded by love, aren't going to do it for you, I doubt that this one will either.

But here, as with everywhere else, if you choose doubt, you are left with something much much less: with death, with darkness, human weakness and evil, with falling oxygenation of the brain.

As for me, I choose the better story.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

by Stephen Chbosky

c. 1999

Pocket Books: New York

213 pages

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be." (page 2)

Jack had that quote in his profile for a while, it might still be there. I loved it when I read it there, out of context and away from the wonderful character that writes it, but I love it much more here embedded in the beginning of this wonderful book. And I love Jack for telling me to read it. I am going to steal that quote from Jack now, or at least make him share it. But now at least, I know where it comes from, so it's OK that at least a part of it is mine.

Jack was online talking to me when I started this blog, and he asked me that always dreaded question, "What are your top five favorite books of all time?" I hate this question because I am so moody when it comes to books. Some books are perfect in one moment, but unrelateable the next. I can be comfortable saying that Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game is my all time favorite, but that is mostly because I have read it so many times to be sure that I find it universally powerful. Other than that, I am always sure that I would be leaving something out. Books are like friends sometimes, or songs, there is a right friend to call on in every situation, a right song to make every mood bearable, but it is not always the same friend or the same song. Books are the same for me. To ask me to pick my five best friends or my five favorite songs would be equally cruel. I have enough love to go around.

But Jack said this was one of his favorites, and since I have very much enjoyed many of the other books on his list, and because he is Jack and I trust him, I went to the bookstore and bought it; thinking that if he was right in saying, "you can read it in a day," it would be a good airplane companion. (He was, it was.)

In this book, Charlie, throughout his freshman year in high school, writes beautiful, striking, naked, honest letters to someone he doesn't know. A journal with an audience that expects no reply, just understanding. He opens his first letter with,

"I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don't try to figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don't want you to do that... I mean nothing bad by this. Honest. I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist." (page 2)

And I think that we all need that, that we all sometimes want that, to have an ear to listen and still be anonymous. To have someone try to understand without needing to know who you are. This is the essence of the blog in some ways. The explosion of blogs makes it clear that this is something of a cultural need.

Watching Charlie figure high school out is beautiful. He forms amazing friendships with an interesting group of seniors and gets special attention from a very involved English teacher. (It says he's TFA! Clearly someone read their curriculum about individualized instruction for advanced students...) This book is brutally honest about the development of these relationships, of Charlie's way of thinking about people, events, himself. Beautifully, painfully, relateably honest about the confusion that others cause in our lives when we just don't understand them, or when we don't know ourselves well enough to see what we want. A wonderful perspective on how sometimes, it really is easy to take advice too literally, to be too cautious, to stand on the sidelines and watch.

And that's sort of what you do reading this book. Stand on the sidelines and watch Charlie stand on the sidelines, (although most of the time he seems to imagine himself more guilty of this sin than his actions call for.) There are times when you want to outright cheer for him, times when you want to whack him upside the head, and times when you just want to hug him. The honesty of his letters have you seeing him as a friend by page 15. It's amazing.

Now for my one rant and one super specific but personally relateable moment.

Rant:

This book is "An original publication of MTV books." Now that in itself is not so bad. (If you can manage to put aside for a moment the "how the hell does the same group of people somehow behind both this beautiful novel and Jackass?!") What's bad is that I think that this deserves SO MUCH better than to be advertised as such. This novel is stunning, independent of the author's youth and apparent hipness. (His first film premiered at Sundance! He MUST be cool!) It should be grouped with, as it has been by reviewers, other acknowledged greats in the world of "coming of age literature" A Seperate Peace especially, it reminded me of Knowles in some ways from the very beginning.

Instead, it is included on a page advertisement at the back of the book with the huge boldfaced title Don't even pretend you won't read more. Other advertised titles include: Generation S.L.U.T. "A brutal feel up session with today's sex crazed teens" and A Hip-Hop Story "Words become powerful weapons as two MCs fight to be #1."

The one liner offered for this work of unguarded honesty is " Standing on the fringes offers a unique perspective on life. But sometimes you've got to see what it looks like from the dance floor." (Sounds like the tag line from a horrible teen movie, or even a bad action flick where the "dance floor" is a battleground to save the city. Enter Neal's movie announcer voice here: "One teen. One way. One de-sire!")

The facing page is headlined Your attitude. Your style. MTV Books: Totally your type. And includes Cruel Summer, the first in the Fast Girls, Hot Boys series!

I am offended for Charlie's sake. I feel that his dignity as a near perfect character has been reduced. That his struggle has been rendered mainstream and hip. His honesty has been commercialized. I am insulted for him, and for the author, who forgiving his "hipness" has produced something here deserving of something more genuine than this. It makes me angry, and I had to say something about it.

Super Specific Relateable Moment:

OR

This blog has become a blog about reading books about reading books:

Charlie says that his favorite book is always the one that he just read. I feel like I have something of the same mentality. While I don't love every book equally, or allow each thing that I read to eclipse those that came before it, I am not what you might call a discerning critic. I just love to read, and I just love books. Even books with things that really bother me, I enjoy the act of reading them, the world that they create, the way that they make me think. Even books that I can see have little to no redeeming value in terms of culture of literature or knowledge, or books with vapid and annoying characters. (Something Borrowed comes to mind.) I like them. I find something in them to enjoy, to make the time worthwhile. Often I can see the criticisms that others present, but that's not enough to make me say that a book is out and out bad.

For example: who liked Franzen's The Corrections anyway? It's EVERYWHERE or at least it was, but I don't know anyone that has anything all that wonderful to say about it. When Karen and Dan, who are the two harshest critics of that one, come up with all the reasons that they did not enjoy it, I can see their points. And while I did not think that it was worthy of all the praise that it apparently got from somewhere (was that somewhere Oprah?) I enjoyed it as I was reading it. While the whole was lacking, I found parts of it charming. Had I read it while keeping this blog, I would have found at least some nice things to say about it.

This is why I couldn't be a book reviewer, despite my reading speed and love of books and bookstores. People have frequently suggested that I could make a career out of reading that way, but I think that becomes more difficult when you honestly like the majority of what you read, and when you read fast enough, and obsessively enough to not resent time spent on less than perfect books.

Charlie's teacher tells him, when giving him The Fountainhead, "Be skeptical about this one. It's a great book. But try to be a filter, not a sponge." (page 165). Charlie ends his next letter with "The Fountainhead is a very good book. I hope I am being a filter." (page 167) That's me.

That being said, please remember that the only bad thing I even maybe had to say about this book is that MTV is marketing it in a way that is beneath it's worth. This is one that you really should read. Really.

"And all the books that you've read have been read by other people. And all the songs that you've loved have been heard by other people. And that girl that's pretty to you is pretty to other people. And you know that if you looked at these facts when you were happy, you would feel great because you are describing 'unity'" (page 96)

I'll finish this by saying a clear and loving thank you to the wonderful Jack for taking the time to recommend a good one. Sorry it took so long for me to blog it. I hope that the commentary is up to the standards of a book you hold so dear. I suppose that it probably can't be, but at least I tried. I loved it more than I can say here too I think.

And because there's no better way to end it,

"So if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that things are good with me, and even when they're not, they will be soon enough.

And I will believe the same about you." (page 213)

A Prayer For Owen Meaney

A Prayer For Owen Meaney
by John Irving
c. 1989
Random House: New York
617 pages

I picked this one up Barnes & Noble about a week ago. It was on the "Summer Reading" table. Someone, I don't remember who or when, told me that I would like John Irving, and I am seriously susceptible to the impulse book buy, so I picked it up. You have to love it when an impulse buy works out this well.

This is a beautiful, powerful, wonderful novel. It's tragic, but parts of it are extraordinarily funny. The characters are real, beautifully developed, flawed, lovable. They, more than anything, are what makes this book. I couldn't put it down, which means that it was a very good thing that I was left in the Oklahoma City airport for about seven hours on Sunday, because this took much longer to read that I imagined when I started. But it's wonderful and well worth it.

So now, added to that already lifetime long list of books that I want to read, is more Irving. If someone (maybe even the person that recommended him in the first place) would like to direct me to one that they think I would particularly enjoy, that would be ideal. It seems that there are a fair number of options. The Cider House Rules and The World According to Garp being the ones that I recognize, which doesn't really make them more or less likely to be next. (Unless they happen to be on a display table at Barnes & Noble.)

Basic overview of the story, John Wheelwright, our narrator, is a New Hampshire native, the illegitimate son of a woman who can trace her lineage back further than the founding fathers of their small town, all the way to the Mayflower. (Or at least his grandmother can, his mother doesn't seem to care overmuch.) John's best friend is Owen Meaney, the only child of a couple that owns a granite quarry, something like the family from "the wrong side of the tracks." Owen is an extraordinarily bright boy, with an even more extraordinarily strange voice, and his own unique set of ideas about the world around him, particularly religion. The book follows the two of them from around age 10 through their twenties, from the 50s to the early 60s. We hear about their exploits in the form of flashbacks, from John, now living in Canada in the late 80s.

This book deserves better than spoilers, so I'm not going to give you any, even things that happen in the beginning. But if somebody would please read it, or direct me to somebody who has, that would be great, because I would love to talk about it.

A couple of things that this book made me think about:

The one thing that pissed me off at the beginning of the novel was the author's tendency to tell you something about a character related to an event that is yet to happen in the narration, and follow it with some form of the phrase "as you shall see..." I suppose that the fact that this bothered me so, (I remember thinking, "I hope that he doesn't do THAT for the entire novel.") reveals my general attitude about foreshadowing as a literary device, which is basically that about 80% of the time, it sucks.

My thought on foreshadowing is this: there is a difference between foreshadowing and a self inflicted spoiler, but in my experience, few authors seem to know it. I don't want to know what's going to happen 100 pages too early, and if I do, I don't always see the point in continuing to read. I mean really, leave something to be discovered. (This is different than books where you know the ending, but you want the backstory. The "how did we get from THERE to HERE?!" kind of novel. Those are occasionally wonderful. This book has some elements of that in it as well, and that aspect is well done. You have to know what's coming, but you just don't see how.)

I think that well done foreshadowing should be transparent only after the event that it was suggesting takes place. The kind of writing that makes you look back at the earlier text and think, "My GOD! I totally should have seen that coming!" not, "Yeah, I totally saw THAT coming."

This book is not really guilty of that. There are a couple of things that I saw coming a mile away, and some things that I didn't see coming at all. Either way, the "as you shall see" bothered me, and got me thinking about that, so you get to read it since I'm not giving up any plot.

Another thing that annoyed me at first, to represent Owen's very odd voice, everything he every says is written in caps. I mean really, is that necessary?

Turns out, yes it is. It stopped pissing me off pretty quickly because I found myself able to hear him in a way that I never could have otherwise. Able to imagine how much the things he said must have stood out, how startled people would have been the first time they heard his voice. So annoying at first, but turns out perfect. Another reason, when reading and writing, to give something a try, even if it seems wrong initially.

I'm going to wrap up here with a passage. The point is that there are some really beautiful passages in this book. Thoughts on faith and God and America and a number of other topics that made me stop and think: just beautiful and elegant collections of words. Here's one of them, Owen Meaney (in his caps) on the death of Marilyn Monroe,

"'SHE WAS JUST LIKE OUR WHOLE COUNTRY - NOT QUITE YOUNG ANYMORE, BUT NOT OLD EITHER; A LITTLE BREATHLESS, VERY BEAUTIFUL, MAYBE A LITTLE STUPID, MAYBE A LOT SMARTER THAN SHE SEEMED. AND SHE WAS LOOKING FOR SOMETHING - I THINK SHE WANTED TO BE GOOD. LOOK AT THE MEN IN HER LIFE - JOE DIMAGGIO, ARTHUR MILLER, MAYBE THE KENNEDYS. LOOK HOW GOOD THEY SEEM! LOOK HOW DESIRABLE SHE WAS! THAT'S WHAT SHE WAS: SHE WAS DESIRABLE. SHE WAS FUNNY AND SEXY - AND SHE WAS VULNERABLE, TOO. SHE WAS NEVER QUITE HAPPY, SHE WAS ALWAYS A LITTLE OVERWEIGHT. SHE WAS JUST LIKE OUR WHOLE COUNTRY... MARILYN MONROE WAS ALWAYS LOOKING FOR THE BEST MAN - MAYBE SHE WANTED THE MAN WITH THE MOST INTEGRITY, MAYBE SHE WANTED THE MAN WITH THE MOST ABILITY TO DO GOOD. AND SHE WAS SEDUCED, OVER AND OVER AGAIN - SHE GOT FOOLED, SHE WAS TRICKED, SHE GOT USED, SHE WAS USED UP. JUST LIKE THE COUNTRY- THE COUNTRY WANTS A SAVIOR. THE COUNTRY IS A SUCKER FOR POWERFUL MEN WHO LOOK GOOD. WE THINK THEY'RE MORALISTS AND THEN THEY JUST USE US. THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO YOU AND ME,' said Owen Meaney. 'WE'RE GOING TO BE USED.'" (page 431)

There are others, some maybe even better, although that one particularly struck me. Anyway, it's a beautiful book, and if you've read it, let's talk about it. If not, it's worth the time to read it, even if it takes longer than you think, even if you don't have a whole day to spend reading in the sunny OKC ariport. Right.

If on a Winter's Night a Traveler

If on a Winter's Night a Traveler
by Italo Colvino
Translated from the Italian by William Weaver
c. 1979, 1981
Harcourt, Inc.: San Diego
260 pages

First of all, I have to apologize for the length of time taken to read this one. A whole week is way too long for me both as a reader and a new blogger. Alas, I was distracted this week by several events. An unexpected and glorious visit from some friends took up Wednesday, a night that I had set aside for reading. (And I wouldn't change that for the world.) On top of that, the research that I am doing at work seems to have found the beginnings of something that might be exciting (I say this with thinly guarded optimism). Therefore, I have been reading, but reading journal articles that hopefully help me frame what we have found in the context of the other research that exists on the topic (and in all the other slightly related areas that I got sidetracked to, because I am like that, and I can get pretty much anything right here at my desk. I love the National Library of Medicine.)

Anyway, assuming that most people don't care to read all the details of my thoughts on various articles from medical journals, we'll leave that out until I actually write a book about it.

To the book. I love this book. It is a book for readers. It is a book about the art of reading, the experience of reading and how greatly it can vary. It is about attitudes that people bring to reading and the essential purity and impurity of books. Loverly.

"The book should be the written counterpart of the unwritten world; it's subject should be what does not exist and cannot exist except when written, but whose absence is obscurely felt by that which exists in its own incompleteness." (page 171-172) Beautiful.

Chapter One of this novel (if it can really be called a novel) includes a passage that sucks me in each and every time; it is so perfect. A trip to the bookstore in which you (for the book is written in the second person, addressed to a "Reader") are assaulted by the army of books there waiting there. As a reader and a lover of bookstores, I find myself facing this challenge each time I walk into Barnes and Noble carrying both my extensive curiosity and my meager finances and time. I think that here, the challenge of leaving the bookstore with any of the money I came in with is beautifully captured. An excerpt:

"...but then you are attacked by the infantry of the Books That If You Had More Than One Life You Would Certainly Also Read But Unfortunately Your Days Are Numbered. With a rapid maneuver you bypass them and move into the phalanxes of the Books You Mean To Read But There Are Others You Must Read First... Books You Can Borrow From Somebody, Books That Everybody's Read So It's As If You Had Read Them, Too. Eluding these assaults, you come up to the towers of the fortress, where other troops are holding out: the Books You've Been Planning to Read For Ages, the Books You've Been Hunting For Years Without Success, the Books Dealing With Something You're Working On At The Moment, the Books You Want To Own So They'll Be Handy Just In Case, the Books You Could Put Aside Maybe To Read This Summer... the Books that Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified. Now you have been able to reduce the countless embattled troops to an array that is, to be sure, very large, but still calculable in a finite number; but this relative relief is then undermined by the ambush of the Books Read Long Ago Which It's Now Time To Reread and the Books You've Always Pretended To Have Read And Now It's Time To Sit Down and Really Read Them... and so on. (pages 5-6)

Really, sometimes I wonder how I ever make it out of there alive.

The structure of this novel is fascinating. In it, the "Reader" starts, and is interrupted in the reading of, 10 other novels, which are reproduced as he reads them. Alternating chapters include the narration of events between these reading, the finding and losing of the books, and his relationship with the "Other Reader" a young woman named Ludmilla. (He meets her in the bookstore, is there anyone else out there that is always hoping to meet someone new in a bookstore, it seems such a great place to meet people, and yet I never talk to anyone. blah.) The story is rounded out with an extremely complicated cast of other readers, writers and manipulators of books.

Each of the ten novels is interrupted at a moment of suspense. This creates an interesting effect, because like the character of the reader, I find myself wanting to hunt down these books and read the rest of them, just to find out what happens next. Of course, they don't exist, and the stories here are, alas, perpetually unfinished. (If you are someone who needs endings, this is not the book for you.)

More powerful however, is the commentary in the narrative chapters that talks about the nature of reading. Here I found many moments that resonated with me, explanations for why one is a reader, what one hopes to find, and does find, in books. The contrast of the hope embodied by some readers with the resignation of others, the escapeism of some readers contrasted with others who use reading as a way of being more intimately connected to the world. It really is a commentary on the diversity and humanity of the experience of reading. And also on the nature of novels as existing in some intersection between what is and what's not. I could quote passages for pages and pages here, but I think you should all just go and read the book. Because the point is made therein that reading is necessarily, in some ways at least, a solitary process, and me telling you about it will just not be equivalent.

Speaking of reading alone, this afternoon as I read the final chapters, I found myself very sincerely wishing that I was fluent in Italian so that I could read the original. This book is, among other wonderful things, filled with a variety of complex words and sentence structures. I am sure that the translator has put very real effort into finding the closest equivalents, but I am also sure that a book written by the word lover that Calvino certainly is loses more in the translation than other works might, simply because the complexity of the language suggests, at least to me, that much of the word choice was very deliberate, and therefore, impossible to really translate, since languages often provide only the most approximate or cumbersome equivalents for words that are beautiful in the original. But alas, I am not sure when I will have time to learn the Italian (or any of the other languages that would open worlds of great books in the original language...) But reading through a translator is like reading with someone else. I'm not sure I like it. Alas

Still, if you are a lover of books and the potential embodied in the act of reading, and not a lover of neat endings, go out and get this one. It's involved and fascinating, parts of it sensual somehow almost to the point of physicality. In the moments in which I was reading it, it totally owned me.

"What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both of them times and spaces open, different from measurable time and space." (page 156)

Perfect.