More Short Book Reviews

I'm keeping most of these brief. It's just not as much fun to write them when there is no discourse. I miss talking to people about what I'm reading; it is a physical ache in my chest.

The Brief History of the Dead, by Kevin Brockmeier
Probably one of the best books I've read in years. It tells two parallel stories: one about the recently dead, who find themselves in a mysterious city that is neither here nor there, the other follows a young female researcher stranded at a station in Antarctica. Don't be surprised when you finish it if you start thinking about people you haven't seen in decades. This is one of those books that stays with you for a long damn time.

I finally read A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway. I have to admit, I'm not a Hemingway fan. I find his method of storytelling off-putting and care little about his characters. But after I read Special Topics in Calamity Physics (by Marisha Pessl), another book on my you must read this now list, I felt compelled to pick it up. Hemingway describes living in Paris during one of its glittering artsy periods, when American writers ate sausages, drank beer, and wrote in cafes while consorting with Communists and Jean Paul Sartre. His descriptions of the times he spent with F. Scott Fitzgerald are priceless.

Another book which mentions the above that is also at the top of my must-read list is Ex Libris, by Ann Fadiman. Anyone who loves not only the written word, but the physical presence of books themselves should read this slim volume of essays. This is one of those books I finished, picked up, read again, and still occasionally pick up to re-read favorites. Essayist and critic Fadiman writes about the love of books as others write about food, or lovers. She describes growing up in a book-loving family and the strong ties that creates in a way that made me envious, even though I think my family is unparalleled. These aren't just essays about the written word; they also examine her relationships with other book lovers, raising kids in a bookish household, and the curious pain of watching her parents age. This is the book I would buy for each of my friends rather than let them borrow mine, so certain I am everyone should read it.

Continuing the theme of aging and dead people, I finally sat down to read The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. I am a Didion fan, but avoided picking this up, thinking it would be an emotional assault to my sensitive psyche. And while it resonates with grief, Didion's professionally detached style kept me from wrapping myself up too much in the narrative. This isn't to say it was coldly written; her sadness and malaise in the wake of her husband's sudden death bleeds through every page. But Didion is a professional reporter and those instincts kept her from overwhelming her reader with emotive fascism.

Anna Marie turned me on to PopCo, by Scarlett Thomas, but I think I actually sat down and read it first (have you noticed I have no life?), and what a big fat bunch of fun it was. I loved all the math references and did actually pull out a pen and paper to solve some of the codes. If you like books heavy with references to prime factorization and cryptanalysis, with a mystery and love story, as well as a not too gentle poke at the toy industry, pick this one up.

So if I had six free weeks and lots of cash, I would walk the Camino de Santiago, the almost millenia-old pilgrimage that crosses northern Spain. Even after Kerry Egan's description in Fumbling of mind-numbing boredom after days and days spent walking in blistering hot sun through wheat fields, I can't imagine a more surreally introspective experience than walking the same path other pilgrims have for centuries accompanied by little more than my own thoughts.

After Dark, by Haruki Murakami, still vexes me. Not in the way most of his writing does. I really want someone else who's read this to contact me. This is one I need to discuss. Maybe then, I can write a description.

Continuing with my love of literary short stories that have a touch of quirk, I've read Saffron and Brimstone, by Elizabeth Hand, St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves, by Karen Russell, and No One Belongs Here More Than You, by Miranda July. While I recommend all of these highly, there tends to a spot of emotional ennui after a prolonged period of immersive reading. I would suggest doing it in small, manageable chunks. While, in my opinion, Kelly Link is the master of this sub-genre (and maybe I mostly think that because she was so freaking nice to me at WFC), those of you who believe this world is a lot more bizarre than what is seen at the surface and that we are all so much more complex that we present ourselves to be will enjoy reading some of these.

And to wrap things on a more serious note: my non-fiction loving readers should pick up Crazy, by Washington Post journalist Pete Early. I had long known of the disgraceful criminalization of the severely mentally ill, but Early's research breaks it down in numbers that are harrowing. This is not just an expose of the way our justice and social system has failed some of the most vulnerable members of our society, but also a heart-wrenching look into Early's own psyche, as he was spurred to do this by his son's diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder. Read it. Get angry. Now let's organize and do something about it.

A final note: I recently was able to purchase, brand new for $4 and some change, the Dame Darcy illustrated Jane Eyre. Now I know some of you are thinking, "Does she really need another copy of that book?" The answer is, apparently, yes. And not just for Dame Darcy's Edward-Gorey-on-crank drawings. Jane is one of my literary heroes. I have looked up to her as a character since I was a wee thing just cutting my teeth on literary analysis. This is the book I read when I am feeling small, penniless, and plain; and I am always inspired by her resolve not to give in to the circumstances of her life again and again. Jane is a character who forges her own destiny and refuses to give in to what society expects of her. She is a rebel. And I love how she talks to the reader. Yes, Anna Marie, it annoys you, but I view it as inviting metafiction. And Rochester, in my humble opinion, is one of the most fucked-up, romantic leads of all time. He is all emotion and instinct, and desperately in need of redemption. I don't think I could have stayed away from him either.