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If you haven’t already, go vote in the Fannish Bulwer-Lytton Contest! We now return to your irregularly scheduled booklog.
134. Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: and Introduction, J.D. Salinger - And that’s it! I’m done with Salinger. I can’t believe it. Well, there are still a few stories that were published and have been collected in weird, hard to find places, and I am working to find them. And Hapworth 16, 1924 is supposedly finally coming out next year. But now I’ve hit that inevitable point, moving through such a slim oeuvre-it’s over. I’m sad.
Raise High/Seymour wasn’t my favorite collection or duology-I loved Nine Stories best, definitely. But there are some wonderful things in both these tales. They are both narrated by Buddy Glass, but are incredibly different in tone: Raise High could almost be a madcap comedy, except for the shadow of what everyone knows Seymour will do hanging over it. And An Introduction is a long, meta, confused lament-I’m not sure I fully got every aspect of it, but I was moved nonetheless. Salinger’s prose is so beautiful, and the world he’s created-in sketches and brushstrokes that don’t always fully connect-is one I am desperate to keep exploring. It feels huge and ever-expanding, like real lives, like the history of a real family would be.
I hope that when Salinger dies, much much much more will be released into the world. I will refrain from hoping that this happens soon. I can wait.
135. Once Upon a Time in the North, Philip Pullman - Lee! A book about Hester and Lee, when they’re young, becoming true balloonists and having adventures and meeting Iorek for the first time. And, you know, just generally being awesome. This story is slight, but if you’ve read His Dark Materials and love the characters-especially wonderful, brave Lee-then you will love this as well. Pullman, as always, has a deft touch, and there’s a moment toward the end that brought sudden, sharp tears to my eyes. I adore this universe.
Now that Pullman’s written his little red book about Lyra and his little blue book about Lee, I hope he follows through and writes that little green book about Will…
136. The Authority: Relentless, Warren Ellis - Not as impressed by this as I had hoped to be. It doesn’t seem that different from other superhero comics, and thus far, at least, I felt the characters were less well-developed than in many other titles. And the villains-painfully clichéd, including a ridiculous Fu Manchu knockoff. Though actually, none of that bugged me as much as the fact that whoever drew this (I’ve already given my copy to Wychwood) has obviously never looked at a photograph of L.A., much less visited. There are several major fight scenes that take place in the City of Angels, and I honestly wouldn’t have known it was Los Angeles if the text hadn’t said. Hello, we have a strict earthquake code, we don’t have row after row of tall buildings that make the city look like a cut-rate New York. Go rent something in which L.A. gets blown up before you attempt to draw it, kthx.
So, yeah…I found that much more distracting than most readers would, probably, but this comic still didn’t exactly have full command of my attention. If I can find the next volume, I’ll keep reading for the Apollo/Midnighter, but I’m not cooking up desperate plots to get it or anything. Mostly I’m wondering if it must get a whole lot better or if I am just missing something.
137. The Children’s Story, James Clavell - In a conquered U.S., a classroom of young kids is given a new teacher who, in less than an hour, brainwashes them and makes them evil little communists! Or something. I know I’m supposed to find this book “chilling,” but I didn’t really buy it. Though Communism is never explicitly stated to be the Big Bad, this book has the Cold War era in which it was written stamped all over it. Clavell’s New Teacher gets the students to quickly dismiss such symbols as the Pledge of Allegiance and the American flag-which, frankly, are just symbols. She also gets them to question the power of prayer, which as a godless heathen myself, I’m sure you can guess worries me deeply. Sigh. I don’t know. While the idea of “reeducation” is very scary indeed, I think the examples Clavell chose are lame, and the idea that anyone-especially a little kid-would make the leap from “the Pledge of Allegiance is kind of stupid” to “yes, I will betray my parents to our new evil overlords” is ridiculous. And in light of the fact that if anyone’s an evil overlord these days, invading other countries and reeducating their citizens to practice a shared set of beliefs, it’s us, Americans…well. This book doesn’t have a chilling effect on me. I’m already shivering.
138. The Writing Class, Jincy Willett - Amy Gallup is a novelist who peaked too young; she now teaches adult extension writing classes. Things are going well with her new group of students, except someone-one of them-is sending poison pen letters and playing cruel pranks. And then things escalate…to murder!
Low marks for that summary. But Willett’s novel (for some reason being marketed as mainstream fiction even though it is, let’s face it, a mystery) is fantastic. She gives Amy a fascinating history that she unfolds slowly and cleverly, and both the scenes involving student critique and those involving Amy’s investigation are fun and vivid. (Though I have to say, even the worst writers in Willett’s fictional class are head and shoulders above some of what I encountered in my one college creative writing course.) Willett manages to evoke some genuine and intense creepiness with the idea of it could be any one of them, these people that I know and like; it reminded me of Gaudy Night, in a way, although Willett is actually a bit braver in her choice of the eventual culprit. There’s a bit too much lantern-hanging at the end when Willett tries to excuse some of the loose ends, but I was captivated from start to finish. Recommended.
139. Spike: Asylum, Brian Lynch - Whee! Possibly the best BtVS/AtS comic I have read: Lynch nails the characterization in this and also dishes up an engaging plot filled with interesting OCs, a lovely Lorne appearance, and a bunch of hilarious in-jokes. If there were a Spike spinoff (if only) this would make a fantastic episode-it’s certainly much better than what I’ve read of the Angel: Season 6 comic. (Sorry, Joss.) I hope I can get my hands on Lynch’s other effort, which I believe involves Spike doing Vegas. *g*
140. Batman: The Killing Joke, Alan Moore - Wasn’t terribly impressed by this, to be honest. The Joker’s backstory seemed flimsy and clichéd, and there’s frankly just not that much else to this (aside from the horrible stuff that happens to Barbara-let’s not even get into that). I liked the art, and I liked the ending. But otherwise-meh.
141. Genius Squad, Catherine Jinks - An ex-Mountie tries to protect an angelic-looking teenage genius from the criminal masterminds who raised him. With a plot that sounds like the coolest Due South/SGA crossover ever, this book should be awesome, right? Sadly, not so much. I was hoping this sequel to Evil Genius would correct some of the problems I had with that book-and there seemed like there’d be a good chance, as one of the things I didn’t like was the ending. However, book two mostly just exacerbates all the issues I had. Squad’s pacing is deadly slow-I had a hard time getting through it, which makes me think the “young adults” it’s aimed at must have a much greater attention span and appreciation for endless, pointless detail than I do. And despite being well over 400 pages long, I felt like very little actually happened over the course of this novel-it doesn’t leave Cadel (the teenage genius who is totally played by a young David Hewlett in the much better movie version of this currently showing on screens 7-12 in my head) in a drastically different position than he was in at the end of the last book. Though he does get to use his go-to disguise of dressing up as a girl a few more times.
I will now let the image of teenage David Hewlett in drag entertain me, as this book failed to do.
142. Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Rachel Cohn & David Levithan - One of those books that makes me feel completely puzzled by and alienated from “kids these days,” even while I, in the rest of my life, am still struggling to be an adult. I didn’t buy the events of this novel for a second. Its characters exist in a world of plenty of money, little-to-no parental supervision, and a seemingly endless supply of pretentious “I only listen to bands you’ve never heard of” hipster cool. (A plot point actually centers around one character’s vintage gas station jacket with its authentic “Salvatore” name patch. *gag*) Who are these people? I just…I have really very little patience for stories that revolve entirely around poor little rich kids’ problems-which, I know, may sound hypocritical with all the Salinger love coming from my direction lately, but Salinger’s fiction is actually about something-something other than who’s hooking up with whom. Not to mention it’s, like, you know, actually well-written and stuff.
This book is almost entirely about two Hollywood-style teenagers angsting about their love lives. I really liked how queer-friendly it was, and there was the occasional good line or three, but that’s about it. Now get offa my lawn! *shakes fist*
143. Stern Men, Elizabeth Gilbert - A generally charming novel about the eccentric residents of a pair of Maine islands inhabited mostly by lobstermen. This book benefits from well-drawn characters and frequently fantastic dialogue, but is hampered by some pretty major pacing issues. Gilbert does a wonderful job creating Ruth Thomas and her world; Ruth is just the kind of heroine I like-tough and funny, far from perfect, clever but vulnerable-and I identified strongly with both her love for her small community, and her feelings of not quite fitting in there. However-the pacing. The book is slow to start and the end is incredibly rushed, to the point where Ruth’s arguably most important acts occur off-stage, between the last chapter and the epilogue. I was really thrown: why, instead of getting to see Ruth rise above a series of hard knocks and maneuver both herself and her island into a better life, are we just quickly told about these events in a few summary paragraphs? That almost felt like it should be the real meat of the novel, but it’s just glossed over. I was also disappointed that we didn’t get a resolution to Ruth’s mother’s story, and that Ruth’s love interest remained so lightly sketched (though there it may just be that taciturn guys are not my type). Like The Pursuit of Alice Thrift (and the more I think about it, the more this book reminds me of some of Elinor Lipman’s work), I loved the heroine and enjoyed the book, but was disappointed that it stopped just when things really started to get interesting.
144. Iron Man: Civil War, Christos N. Gage - Another comic I picked up for the emotionally resonant reason of “the library had it.” There were some good things about it. The first virtually stand-alone story, which is almost entirely about Tony Stark/Iron Man’s relationship with Steve Rogers/Captain America, was my favorite: you got a good sense of the dynamic between those two guys (and in my case, a new interest in the idea of seeing them make out). The other issues included in this volume had strong points, too, but the whole thing was ultimately very confusing-each issue is clearly part of the much-much-larger cross-title storyline, which meant that major events happened off-stage. One immediately begins to understand fans’ frustration with Civil War as a concept, and I really have to wonder if these TP collections-separated off by character/title-were the best way to collect the series.
I’m quickly sinking into a morass of old arguments here. Much better to say: the library had it. I enjoyed it well enough. The end.
145. Keturah and Lord Death, Martine Leavitt - Really lovely fairytale-type YA novel that combines elements of Scheherazade’s story with ruminations about living and dying. Keturah gets lost in the woods and when Death arrives for her, she enchants him with a love story that wins her an extra day of life-and a possible reprieve if she can, in that time, find her true love. Leavitt doesn’t let her tale take the obvious route, and I gobbled it up, very naughtily delaying necessary errands and chores so I could finish it. I wasn’t quite convinced by the ending-possibly because the novel’s prologue seems to set up another, contradictory conclusion; I think the book would have been better without it. But besides that and my minor annoyance with Leavitt’s occasional tendency to slip into ill-placed ’twases and ’tises, I thought this was wonderful.
146. Severance, Robert Olen Butler - A book of vignettes, each 240 words long, consisting of the thoughts that pass through the minds of characters both historical and imaginary in the minute and a half left of life after they are beheaded. The concept seems gimmicky, and it is, a little-but it’s also, beautifully, beautifully done. I’m a sucker for stream-of-consciousness when it’s done well, and Butler is marvelous at it. He captures voice after voice, experience after experience, emotion after emotion: humanity, in all its beauty, tragedy, and variety. I was quite moved.
May not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I loved it.
147. IQ 83, Arthur Herzog - For once it seems appropriate to write this review in the “things I learned” style of a 4th grade book report.
Things I Learned From This Book:
1. If you want to hide the fact that your science is ridiculous and your methods of exposition boring, you don’t need to hire someone like David Hewlett to explain it all very quickly and humorously; even without this aid, if you use enough big words, surely no one will notice that your explanations are just sitting there leaden on the page, to be exposed as the ridiculous and boring fake science they are.
2. If you want your main character to be less affected by your invented “stupid sickness” than everyone else, you don’t need to provide even a half-assed explanation like “it’s thanks to my Ancient gene” or “it’s because I used nasal spray/took Tylenol/ate Wheaties this morning” or anything; just the fact that he’s your main character is enough.
3. An IQ drop will make everyone struggle to remember words the author has seemingly at random decided are difficult; the characters will all display this absent-mindedness by stuttering over the words they are trying to reco-rec-remember in exactly the same way.
4. An IQ drop will make women lose their inhibitions and become the sex-starved creatures they really are! (Because smart, sexually confident women don’t really exist.)
5. An IQ drop will make the novel’s single significant character of color-a black scientist-first start talking in “jive,” and then “regress” to the point where he-honest to god-dons a loincloth and tries to cook and eat one of his coworkers. (And yes, this will be the point when, less than 15 pages from the end, the reader will just barely resist the urge to chuck the book across the room and repeatedly stomp upon it until its spine is broken.)
6. An IQ drop will in general not make people anything like the actually mentally handicapped, it will just make them, you know, kinda trashy. Like the women will dye their hair blonde and wear skimpy clothing. The men will want to do nothing but drink beer and watch TV. And the teenagers-why, their desires will immediately turn to playing pool. Yes, pool! It’s trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool!
7. The author is apparently not kidding about that pool thing.
8. An intelligence-sapping plague makes for an excellent opportunity to ditch your wife in favor of a younger, hotter female scientist who has absolutely no personality or other function in the narrative.
9. This book makes Flowers For Algernon look like a frickin’ masterpiece.
10. If you thought this book would be a fun, intense thriller-well, maybe you do need to get your IQ checked.
148. Meat Is Murder, Joe Pernice - Part of the 33 1/3 series, which involves writers exploring favorite albums at great depth, Pernice’s effort was at the time of its writing (and, I believe, still is) the only entry that’s fiction. However, that’s the only way in which it is unique. This is a very, very average coming of age story; the protagonist is almost exactly like every other teenage protagonist who can’t get laid and who thinks his privileged white suburban life is omg so hard-the only thing different about him, I guess, is that he really really likes The Smiths.
Pernice does manage to engender some sympathy for his protagonist, in spite of mediocre writing and a puzzling opening that’s set in the present (as opposed to 1985), but just when the narrative seems like it’s starting to go somewhere…it ends. Sigh.
Am I alone in thinking that a novel based on the music of The Smiths should really involve a confused gay protagonist and lots of homosexual longing? And maybe a dash of Morrissey’s wickedly sharp humor, and not just his angst? Let’s have less “How Soon Is Now” and more “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out.” Yeah: The Queen Is Dead by Trin-look for it in bookstores, probably never.
Total Books: 148
And one book I didn’t read in the past couple weeks: an unpublished novel of Salinger’s that was about time travel. And zombies. I had a long, intense dream about this in which I was both reading the manuscript I found, and participating as a character in the book. Zombies fell from the sky and I killed them with a sword. In a J.D. Salinger novel.
Well, you never know.
134. Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: and Introduction, J.D. Salinger - And that’s it! I’m done with Salinger. I can’t believe it. Well, there are still a few stories that were published and have been collected in weird, hard to find places, and I am working to find them. And Hapworth 16, 1924 is supposedly finally coming out next year. But now I’ve hit that inevitable point, moving through such a slim oeuvre-it’s over. I’m sad.
Raise High/Seymour wasn’t my favorite collection or duology-I loved Nine Stories best, definitely. But there are some wonderful things in both these tales. They are both narrated by Buddy Glass, but are incredibly different in tone: Raise High could almost be a madcap comedy, except for the shadow of what everyone knows Seymour will do hanging over it. And An Introduction is a long, meta, confused lament-I’m not sure I fully got every aspect of it, but I was moved nonetheless. Salinger’s prose is so beautiful, and the world he’s created-in sketches and brushstrokes that don’t always fully connect-is one I am desperate to keep exploring. It feels huge and ever-expanding, like real lives, like the history of a real family would be.
I hope that when Salinger dies, much much much more will be released into the world. I will refrain from hoping that this happens soon. I can wait.
135. Once Upon a Time in the North, Philip Pullman - Lee! A book about Hester and Lee, when they’re young, becoming true balloonists and having adventures and meeting Iorek for the first time. And, you know, just generally being awesome. This story is slight, but if you’ve read His Dark Materials and love the characters-especially wonderful, brave Lee-then you will love this as well. Pullman, as always, has a deft touch, and there’s a moment toward the end that brought sudden, sharp tears to my eyes. I adore this universe.
Now that Pullman’s written his little red book about Lyra and his little blue book about Lee, I hope he follows through and writes that little green book about Will…
136. The Authority: Relentless, Warren Ellis - Not as impressed by this as I had hoped to be. It doesn’t seem that different from other superhero comics, and thus far, at least, I felt the characters were less well-developed than in many other titles. And the villains-painfully clichéd, including a ridiculous Fu Manchu knockoff. Though actually, none of that bugged me as much as the fact that whoever drew this (I’ve already given my copy to Wychwood) has obviously never looked at a photograph of L.A., much less visited. There are several major fight scenes that take place in the City of Angels, and I honestly wouldn’t have known it was Los Angeles if the text hadn’t said. Hello, we have a strict earthquake code, we don’t have row after row of tall buildings that make the city look like a cut-rate New York. Go rent something in which L.A. gets blown up before you attempt to draw it, kthx.
So, yeah…I found that much more distracting than most readers would, probably, but this comic still didn’t exactly have full command of my attention. If I can find the next volume, I’ll keep reading for the Apollo/Midnighter, but I’m not cooking up desperate plots to get it or anything. Mostly I’m wondering if it must get a whole lot better or if I am just missing something.
137. The Children’s Story, James Clavell - In a conquered U.S., a classroom of young kids is given a new teacher who, in less than an hour, brainwashes them and makes them evil little communists! Or something. I know I’m supposed to find this book “chilling,” but I didn’t really buy it. Though Communism is never explicitly stated to be the Big Bad, this book has the Cold War era in which it was written stamped all over it. Clavell’s New Teacher gets the students to quickly dismiss such symbols as the Pledge of Allegiance and the American flag-which, frankly, are just symbols. She also gets them to question the power of prayer, which as a godless heathen myself, I’m sure you can guess worries me deeply. Sigh. I don’t know. While the idea of “reeducation” is very scary indeed, I think the examples Clavell chose are lame, and the idea that anyone-especially a little kid-would make the leap from “the Pledge of Allegiance is kind of stupid” to “yes, I will betray my parents to our new evil overlords” is ridiculous. And in light of the fact that if anyone’s an evil overlord these days, invading other countries and reeducating their citizens to practice a shared set of beliefs, it’s us, Americans…well. This book doesn’t have a chilling effect on me. I’m already shivering.
138. The Writing Class, Jincy Willett - Amy Gallup is a novelist who peaked too young; she now teaches adult extension writing classes. Things are going well with her new group of students, except someone-one of them-is sending poison pen letters and playing cruel pranks. And then things escalate…to murder!
Low marks for that summary. But Willett’s novel (for some reason being marketed as mainstream fiction even though it is, let’s face it, a mystery) is fantastic. She gives Amy a fascinating history that she unfolds slowly and cleverly, and both the scenes involving student critique and those involving Amy’s investigation are fun and vivid. (Though I have to say, even the worst writers in Willett’s fictional class are head and shoulders above some of what I encountered in my one college creative writing course.) Willett manages to evoke some genuine and intense creepiness with the idea of it could be any one of them, these people that I know and like; it reminded me of Gaudy Night, in a way, although Willett is actually a bit braver in her choice of the eventual culprit. There’s a bit too much lantern-hanging at the end when Willett tries to excuse some of the loose ends, but I was captivated from start to finish. Recommended.
139. Spike: Asylum, Brian Lynch - Whee! Possibly the best BtVS/AtS comic I have read: Lynch nails the characterization in this and also dishes up an engaging plot filled with interesting OCs, a lovely Lorne appearance, and a bunch of hilarious in-jokes. If there were a Spike spinoff (if only) this would make a fantastic episode-it’s certainly much better than what I’ve read of the Angel: Season 6 comic. (Sorry, Joss.) I hope I can get my hands on Lynch’s other effort, which I believe involves Spike doing Vegas. *g*
140. Batman: The Killing Joke, Alan Moore - Wasn’t terribly impressed by this, to be honest. The Joker’s backstory seemed flimsy and clichéd, and there’s frankly just not that much else to this (aside from the horrible stuff that happens to Barbara-let’s not even get into that). I liked the art, and I liked the ending. But otherwise-meh.
141. Genius Squad, Catherine Jinks - An ex-Mountie tries to protect an angelic-looking teenage genius from the criminal masterminds who raised him. With a plot that sounds like the coolest Due South/SGA crossover ever, this book should be awesome, right? Sadly, not so much. I was hoping this sequel to Evil Genius would correct some of the problems I had with that book-and there seemed like there’d be a good chance, as one of the things I didn’t like was the ending. However, book two mostly just exacerbates all the issues I had. Squad’s pacing is deadly slow-I had a hard time getting through it, which makes me think the “young adults” it’s aimed at must have a much greater attention span and appreciation for endless, pointless detail than I do. And despite being well over 400 pages long, I felt like very little actually happened over the course of this novel-it doesn’t leave Cadel (the teenage genius who is totally played by a young David Hewlett in the much better movie version of this currently showing on screens 7-12 in my head) in a drastically different position than he was in at the end of the last book. Though he does get to use his go-to disguise of dressing up as a girl a few more times.
I will now let the image of teenage David Hewlett in drag entertain me, as this book failed to do.
142. Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Rachel Cohn & David Levithan - One of those books that makes me feel completely puzzled by and alienated from “kids these days,” even while I, in the rest of my life, am still struggling to be an adult. I didn’t buy the events of this novel for a second. Its characters exist in a world of plenty of money, little-to-no parental supervision, and a seemingly endless supply of pretentious “I only listen to bands you’ve never heard of” hipster cool. (A plot point actually centers around one character’s vintage gas station jacket with its authentic “Salvatore” name patch. *gag*) Who are these people? I just…I have really very little patience for stories that revolve entirely around poor little rich kids’ problems-which, I know, may sound hypocritical with all the Salinger love coming from my direction lately, but Salinger’s fiction is actually about something-something other than who’s hooking up with whom. Not to mention it’s, like, you know, actually well-written and stuff.
This book is almost entirely about two Hollywood-style teenagers angsting about their love lives. I really liked how queer-friendly it was, and there was the occasional good line or three, but that’s about it. Now get offa my lawn! *shakes fist*
143. Stern Men, Elizabeth Gilbert - A generally charming novel about the eccentric residents of a pair of Maine islands inhabited mostly by lobstermen. This book benefits from well-drawn characters and frequently fantastic dialogue, but is hampered by some pretty major pacing issues. Gilbert does a wonderful job creating Ruth Thomas and her world; Ruth is just the kind of heroine I like-tough and funny, far from perfect, clever but vulnerable-and I identified strongly with both her love for her small community, and her feelings of not quite fitting in there. However-the pacing. The book is slow to start and the end is incredibly rushed, to the point where Ruth’s arguably most important acts occur off-stage, between the last chapter and the epilogue. I was really thrown: why, instead of getting to see Ruth rise above a series of hard knocks and maneuver both herself and her island into a better life, are we just quickly told about these events in a few summary paragraphs? That almost felt like it should be the real meat of the novel, but it’s just glossed over. I was also disappointed that we didn’t get a resolution to Ruth’s mother’s story, and that Ruth’s love interest remained so lightly sketched (though there it may just be that taciturn guys are not my type). Like The Pursuit of Alice Thrift (and the more I think about it, the more this book reminds me of some of Elinor Lipman’s work), I loved the heroine and enjoyed the book, but was disappointed that it stopped just when things really started to get interesting.
144. Iron Man: Civil War, Christos N. Gage - Another comic I picked up for the emotionally resonant reason of “the library had it.” There were some good things about it. The first virtually stand-alone story, which is almost entirely about Tony Stark/Iron Man’s relationship with Steve Rogers/Captain America, was my favorite: you got a good sense of the dynamic between those two guys (and in my case, a new interest in the idea of seeing them make out). The other issues included in this volume had strong points, too, but the whole thing was ultimately very confusing-each issue is clearly part of the much-much-larger cross-title storyline, which meant that major events happened off-stage. One immediately begins to understand fans’ frustration with Civil War as a concept, and I really have to wonder if these TP collections-separated off by character/title-were the best way to collect the series.
I’m quickly sinking into a morass of old arguments here. Much better to say: the library had it. I enjoyed it well enough. The end.
145. Keturah and Lord Death, Martine Leavitt - Really lovely fairytale-type YA novel that combines elements of Scheherazade’s story with ruminations about living and dying. Keturah gets lost in the woods and when Death arrives for her, she enchants him with a love story that wins her an extra day of life-and a possible reprieve if she can, in that time, find her true love. Leavitt doesn’t let her tale take the obvious route, and I gobbled it up, very naughtily delaying necessary errands and chores so I could finish it. I wasn’t quite convinced by the ending-possibly because the novel’s prologue seems to set up another, contradictory conclusion; I think the book would have been better without it. But besides that and my minor annoyance with Leavitt’s occasional tendency to slip into ill-placed ’twases and ’tises, I thought this was wonderful.
146. Severance, Robert Olen Butler - A book of vignettes, each 240 words long, consisting of the thoughts that pass through the minds of characters both historical and imaginary in the minute and a half left of life after they are beheaded. The concept seems gimmicky, and it is, a little-but it’s also, beautifully, beautifully done. I’m a sucker for stream-of-consciousness when it’s done well, and Butler is marvelous at it. He captures voice after voice, experience after experience, emotion after emotion: humanity, in all its beauty, tragedy, and variety. I was quite moved.
May not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I loved it.
147. IQ 83, Arthur Herzog - For once it seems appropriate to write this review in the “things I learned” style of a 4th grade book report.
Things I Learned From This Book:
1. If you want to hide the fact that your science is ridiculous and your methods of exposition boring, you don’t need to hire someone like David Hewlett to explain it all very quickly and humorously; even without this aid, if you use enough big words, surely no one will notice that your explanations are just sitting there leaden on the page, to be exposed as the ridiculous and boring fake science they are.
2. If you want your main character to be less affected by your invented “stupid sickness” than everyone else, you don’t need to provide even a half-assed explanation like “it’s thanks to my Ancient gene” or “it’s because I used nasal spray/took Tylenol/ate Wheaties this morning” or anything; just the fact that he’s your main character is enough.
3. An IQ drop will make everyone struggle to remember words the author has seemingly at random decided are difficult; the characters will all display this absent-mindedness by stuttering over the words they are trying to reco-rec-remember in exactly the same way.
4. An IQ drop will make women lose their inhibitions and become the sex-starved creatures they really are! (Because smart, sexually confident women don’t really exist.)
5. An IQ drop will make the novel’s single significant character of color-a black scientist-first start talking in “jive,” and then “regress” to the point where he-honest to god-dons a loincloth and tries to cook and eat one of his coworkers. (And yes, this will be the point when, less than 15 pages from the end, the reader will just barely resist the urge to chuck the book across the room and repeatedly stomp upon it until its spine is broken.)
6. An IQ drop will in general not make people anything like the actually mentally handicapped, it will just make them, you know, kinda trashy. Like the women will dye their hair blonde and wear skimpy clothing. The men will want to do nothing but drink beer and watch TV. And the teenagers-why, their desires will immediately turn to playing pool. Yes, pool! It’s trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool!
7. The author is apparently not kidding about that pool thing.
8. An intelligence-sapping plague makes for an excellent opportunity to ditch your wife in favor of a younger, hotter female scientist who has absolutely no personality or other function in the narrative.
9. This book makes Flowers For Algernon look like a frickin’ masterpiece.
10. If you thought this book would be a fun, intense thriller-well, maybe you do need to get your IQ checked.
148. Meat Is Murder, Joe Pernice - Part of the 33 1/3 series, which involves writers exploring favorite albums at great depth, Pernice’s effort was at the time of its writing (and, I believe, still is) the only entry that’s fiction. However, that’s the only way in which it is unique. This is a very, very average coming of age story; the protagonist is almost exactly like every other teenage protagonist who can’t get laid and who thinks his privileged white suburban life is omg so hard-the only thing different about him, I guess, is that he really really likes The Smiths.
Pernice does manage to engender some sympathy for his protagonist, in spite of mediocre writing and a puzzling opening that’s set in the present (as opposed to 1985), but just when the narrative seems like it’s starting to go somewhere…it ends. Sigh.
Am I alone in thinking that a novel based on the music of The Smiths should really involve a confused gay protagonist and lots of homosexual longing? And maybe a dash of Morrissey’s wickedly sharp humor, and not just his angst? Let’s have less “How Soon Is Now” and more “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out.” Yeah: The Queen Is Dead by Trin-look for it in bookstores, probably never.
Total Books: 148
And one book I didn’t read in the past couple weeks: an unpublished novel of Salinger’s that was about time travel. And zombies. I had a long, intense dream about this in which I was both reading the manuscript I found, and participating as a character in the book. Zombies fell from the sky and I killed them with a sword. In a J.D. Salinger novel.
Well, you never know.