Re-Branded

My Booky Wook

Russell Brand

Hodder

As mentioned a number of blog posts ago, I'm not a huge fan of the memoir. I think there's something dishonest about a genre that purports itself to be "non-fiction" when we all know that it is next to impossible to accurately remember events without the cloudy lens of perspective. That said, when I do read some kind of autobiography, it is usually of the train wreck variety. A few months ago, I read the latest offering from Augusten Burroughs. Funny and only slightly disturbing. This week's subject matter, British comedian Russell Brand, is infinitely more so in both categories. Hilarious and, well, more than just a little bit shocking.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Russell Brand, I would say that he's one of the UK's top comedians. His brand of humour is hard to describe, but he is very articulate, extremely witty and often very silly. What sets him apart is that he doesn't seem to come with boundaries and will do pretty much anything to get the laugh. He did, after all, get fired from MTV for showing up to work the day after 9/11 dressed as Osama bin Laden. He's also a man who has found the inner resolve to work through a number of addictions and his memoir, My Booky Wook, walk us through his life up to the point where he gets clean.

This book has often been described as laugh-out-loud funny. I decided to put that claim to the test and every time I caught myself chuckling, I put a big fat check mark in the margin. There's at least 10 ticks in my copy and would have been more had I also been keeping track of the smiles and occasional snorts. Three outrageous stand up acts out of five.

I'm So Done with Vampires ...

Lonely Werewolf Girl
Martin Millar
Soft Skull Press

Over the past few months, life for the D-E-S has been a little chaotic. Aside from the occasional stolen moment, I haven't had a lot of down time and one of the things that I've longed to do is spend an entire day reading a really good book. This past Sunday, the Powers that Be presented me with the perfect opportunity - I was alone in a foreign country, I had completed enough of my work to avoid feeling guilty, and I had two (count 'em two!) books that looked like they might turn out to be a solid, friendly companion.

From the moment I picked up Lonely Werewolf Girl, I was completely entranced. I mean, who's kidding who? Werewolves are usually depicted in Fantasy Lit as brutish, furry, and well, mostly uninteresting. Imagine how engaged I was when the characters in LWG were all complicated, gritty and incredibly evocative. Take the heroine, Kalix, for example. She is a seventeen year old Scottish werewolf who has been kicked out of the family clan for attacking (and severely injuring) her father. Living in the alleyways of London, Kalix, while achingly beautiful, is a cutter and an anorexic who believes that no one loves her. Her older sister, Thrix, is a London clothing designer who counts among her clients the otherworldly Malveria -- Queen of the Fire elementals (and quite a character besides.) Kalix's two cousins and fellow family outcasts, Beauty and Delicious, are wannabe rock stars who have travelled so far down the road to hedonism that they have forgotten how to turn into werewolves. Add a battle for the head of the werewolf clan between Kalix's brothers and we've got enough drama to fill an entire day.

Lonely Werewolf Girl was totally worth the read-a-thon. I loved it so much that I flew through the 558 pages in less than twelve hours. That included time off for good behaviour (eating, peeing and going to the gym!) LWG gets four howling death-machines out of five.

Fallen Stars & Faerie Tales

Stardust
Harper Collins
Neil Gaiman

In the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that I have a mild crush on Neil Gaiman. It's not like I've progressed to the threshold of stalker, or anything, but I really do think he's pretty groovy. His blog is awesome, his hair is spectacular, and his writing makes me forget the world around me. What else do I need to be happy?

Stardust is the story of a young man, Tristran Thorn who falls in love with a beautiful girl. While watching the night sky one evening, the pair witness a falling star. Tristran offers to retrieve the star as proof of his love for the young maid, she grants him permission to set out on his quest, and off he goes into the land of Faerie.

What I enjoyed most about this novel was how Gaiman takes the standard conventions of the romantic epic and tweaks them in such a way that you're not sure if he is taking the piss, or if he is being genuine in his appreciation for the rules of the genre. In the tradition of the Brothers Grimm, Gaiman's fairy tale isn't full of sweetness and light and some of the scenes are actually quite violent. As always, Mr. Gaiman was able to transport me into a different world if only for a few hours. Three and a half magic spells out of five.

I Love a Rainy Night

The Thirteenth Tale
Diane Setterfield
Anchor Canada

Yesterday was almost perfect. When I woke up, I put on the radio, made a nest of the covers on my bed and snuggled back in for an extra half hour of sheer laziness. Once I finally roused myself, I randomly grabbed a book off the nightstand, popped it into my bag and headed out the door for the day.

I started reading The Thirteenth Tale at the hair salon. It next came out of my bag over lunch at the mall. I really meant to go for a run in the afternoon, but instead I found myself curled up on the couch unable to put the book down. At suppertime, I had to tear myself away to meet my friend Janice for dinner. I considered bringing it along in case she was late and even went so far as to put it in my purse. I took it out at the last minute -- didn't want to seem rude.

When I got back to the house, I contemplated watching some television or putting in a DVD. That thought lasted, oh, maybe thirty seconds. Instead, I took up the book and read until it was done. It was totally worth it. In fact, I liked the book so much that I'm not going to tell you what it was about. It stands a pretty good chance of being the D-E-S book of the year and I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. Four melodramatic twists out of five.

Apocalypse Now?

An Illustrated Short History of Progress
Ronald Wright
Anansi

This poor book has been through a lot in the past few weeks. I started reading it at the last Argo home game where, in a moment of mad cheering, I spilled some pop on it and dropped it on the floor of the stands. Gross. Good thing you can use hand sanitizer on a book cover.

It then accompanied me on a road trip to Michigan where it was exposed to what I can only imagine to be the somewhat toxic fumes of a NASCAR race. (Um yeah, I'm pretty sure I was the only fan there who had a book in her purse.) Some of the tire debris actually got stuck to the pages. We were only a few rows up from the track and we all looked like grease monkeys before the afternoon was out.

This book was also my in-car companion on moving day. Happily, my friend Peter rescued it for me from what was left of Finnigan after I rolled it on the 427 (a major expressway in Toronto for those of you from out-of-town.) Apparently, the poor thing flew from my purse and landed in a heap of shattered glass and gum drops. The corners are a little dog-eared, but it wasn't that much worse for wear. And neither am I.

So the question is ... after going through all that was it a good read? The answer is definitely yes. An Illustrated Short History of Progress is a cautionary tale that advises us to learn from our mistakes and look to the burn out of past civilizations in order to help us avoid our own demise. It's not the most uplifting read, but it is very enlightening. Three and a half declining empires out of five.

Geeks, Freaks & Oh, So My Peeps

American Nerd -- The Story of My People
Benjamin Nugent
Scribner

Benji, Benji, Benji ... I hate to be the one to tell you, but in reading this book, you proved to me that you don't know from nerd. Take it from someone who made the first of many trips on the short bus in Grade 5 -- you've left a few things out.

Your definition of a nerd is so, well, limiting. In my humble opinion, a nerd is a member of the geek family in that both species express an "over-developed" interest in a particular topic -- it doesn't, as you suggest, have to be something technical. I also disagree with your contention that nerds typically use formal speech. Did you actually speak with any nerds as part of your research? Dude -- in my experience nerds love words and speak only as formally as the situation warrants. To be candid, hardly anyone in my circle of friends speaks High Klingon anymore. Get with the times, bro.

And finally, what's all this crap about poser-nerds? What you were describing as a co-option of nerd culture (floodpants, dark rimmed glasses, and argylish sweaters) doesn't necessarily mean that the cool kids want to go nerd. I think what it means is that the crappiest parts of '50s (and '80s) fashion have made a come back -- end of story.

Despite my objections to your characterization, you get a B+ for your efforts. We'll let the geeks in the crowd figure out what that is as a score out of five. Qapla'.

Knit Lit?

The Friday Night Knitting Club
Kate Jacobs
Berkley

We should probably just file this book under the category "what the hell was I thinking?" and leave it at that. Unfortunately, that wouldn't make for much of an entry, so I guess I will go ahead and give you the gruesome details.

The Friday Night Knitting Club is set in a New York City wool shop where a bunch of eclectic women get together to learn stitches, trade gossip and share the narratives of their lives. The main character is Georgia -- a single mom who is in the not-so-envious position of raising a tween. She is also the shop's proprietor and part of her job is to be the (sometimes reluctant) good friend and sounding board to the women who frequent her establishment. Georgia's life is quite idyllic and it seems like she has it all. That is, of course, until she gets cancer. Georgia ends up dying before the end of the novel but not before all of the other subplots are brought to a happy conclusion. Methinks the author listened to the wrong REM song. This novel needed way more "Everybody Hurts" and way less "Shiny Happy People." One dropped stitch out of five.

Not so Beautiful Music

Music of the Primes

Marcus du Sautoy

Harper Collins

So, I think it is time for another heartfelt admission from the D-E-S. As much as it pains me to say it, I can be a terrible procrastinator. I know that some of you reading this are snorting in disbelief, but it's true. Very occasionally, I put things off until they pile up and loom over me like a darkling cloud. Lately, my procrastination has involved two things -- getting myself sorted out for my upcoming move and sitting down to write the blog entry related to Music of the Primes. My move date is, gulp, Wednesday, so I had to get my asterisk in gear today to finalize the logistics. Since I had some time to spare, I figured I should get this task over with as well. Here goes nothing ...

The Music of the Primes is a book about math. More specifically, it explores the magic of prime numbers and in particular, takes a good look at the Riemann Hypothesis -- one of mathematics most famous, and still unsolved, hypotheses. If I were to pick a single word to describe this book, however, it would be "dissonant". The parts of the work dealing specifically with prime number and number theory were, to a lay person, very engaging. The author also attempts to provide a brief overview of the history of mathematics and here is where the book, for me, starts to fall apart and loses my interest. Some of my friends absolutely raved about this text and maybe, just maybe, my expectations were just a little too high. Two whole numbers (or is that integers?) out of five.

Um, Neil Diamond?

Forever in Blue -- The Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood
Ann Brashares
Delacorte Press

So, I was sitting at my desk looking up quotes about autumn for this entry (don't ask) when it hit me. Forever in Blue. Travelling Pants. Forever in Blue Jeans. Neil Diamond. Of course! The author was making an oblique reference to the 70s song lyrics that provided her with the inspiration to come up with the Travelling Pants idea in the first place. Um ... yeah. I think I've been watching too many Gilmore Girls episodes lately. Call me Kirk.

Forever in Blue is the conclusion to the four book Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series. The girls have made it through their first year of college and instead of spending the summer together, each of them heads off in separate directions in search of themselves. The pants (a pair of jeans that impossibly fits all four of the girls distinct figures) are a talisman of sorts that get passed from girl to girl and make good things happen. This year, the pants are stolen and the girls head to Greece in search of their magic. Well, they don't find the pants, but they do reconnect with each other in a way.

On it's own, this book wasn't very good. It was trite, predictable, and the characters, while becoming slightly more self-aware, didn't really grow. Read in conjunction with the other three novels in the series, however, Forever in Blue ties up some loose ends and satisfies my expectations in terms of where the larger narrative was going. One pair of cutoffs out of five.

Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!

Hide and Seek

Ian Rankin

Orion Fiction

My new boyfriend is such a complicated guy. I'll be honest -- the emotional (okay, mushy) part of me thinks that we're soulmates. He listens to Radio Three, he's got books strewn all over his apartment, and his commitment issues make Mt. Kilimanjaro look like a drumlin. Curiously, those are all traits that appeal greatly to this thirty-something girl.

The logical part of my brain whispers something different. It says "careful there, poptart. He's a cop. Worse -- he's a homicide detective. Can you really handle the secrets, odd hours, and sketchy people?" I'll give you an example. The other night, John had invited me over to, uh, hang out and there was a knock at his door. It was a girl from one of the cases he's been working on. Apparently, one of her junkie friends overdosed recently and both he (the deceased,) and now she, thinks he was murdered. Of course, John invited her in, gave her a meal (accompanied by some of the wine I had just bought) and offered her the couch to crash. The next morning, I overheard him on the phone with one of his work-colleagues and they think there might be some kind of satantic/ritual angle to the whole thing. It gives me the shudders just thinking about it.

So, I'm not really sure that Mr. Rebus is the guy for me. Maybe I should just break up with him and get it over with. Sigh. I don't know -- there are parts of him that I think I could get to like. A lot. And then there are those other bits (did I mention the drinking?) that make me think he's just Mr. Right Now. If you were to ask me to rate my chances of staying with him, I'd say that it's about 50/50 -- a two and a half out of five, if you will. I'll keep you posted and let you know how it works out.

Phlegmish Thoughts

The Flanders Panel
Arturo Pérez-Reverte
A Harvest Book / Harcourt, Inc.

Composing this week's blog post has not been an easy task and I've practically worn out the delete key with all the false starts. The problem is that I don't know how to discuss this book in a way that would make sense to someone who hasn't read it. The basic premise is as follows: Julia, an art restorer living in Madrid, has been asked to work on a 15th century Flemish painting so that the owner can put it up for auction. While she is restoring the work, she discovers an inscription that the painter had hidden under an additional layer of paint. Figuring out the meaning of the inscription would add significantly to the value of the painting and Julia decides to solve the mystery contained within the panel.

Halfway through the novel, Julia solves the riddle and structurally, I think this is where the book starts to fall apart. You see, while Julia has been trying to figure out the whodunit in the panel, a couple of her art-world colleagues are murdered. We are meant to think that these present-day murders are somehow linked to the murder mystery referred to in the painting, but even to a non-discerning reader, it's too big of a stretch. In fact, while the last half of the book is beautifully written and is packed full of allusions to great literary works, fascinating chess moves, and some interesting philosophical discussions, it fails because the plot just doesn't make sense.

I desperately wanted this book to be better than it was and if I'm honest, I have to admit that sections of the novel were absolutely brilliant. Sadly, though, I guess the old saying isn't always true -- the whole isn't always greater than the sum of its parts. Two beguiling rooks out of five.

Ran Away and Joined the Circus

Water for Elephants

Sara Gruen

Algonquin Books

Last weekend, when I was hanging in the MoFo (aka Mount Forest, Ontario, population 5121), I decided to wander over to my aunt's place to sit on her front porch, drink one or two of her beers, and read my book. As I was heading up the street, I found that I couldn't resist temptation and I engaged in the dreaded "walk and read." One stumble, a narrow miss with a failed poop n' scoop, and a couple of amused pedestrians later, I finally made it to my destination. I couldn't help myself ... Water for Elephants was just too good to put down!

Set sometime during the Depression, the novel opens with Jacob Jankowski just learning that his parents have been killed in an automobile accident. Despairing of the knowledge that he literally has nothing to go home to, Jacob walks out of his finals at Cornell and hops a train heading west. Much to his surprise, he finds out that he has jumped smack into the middle of a circus troupe -- the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth.

This story is very compelling and engages the reader on a number of fronts. For the romantic souls in the crowd, there's a love triangle that involves Jacob, the beautiful Marlena and her "paragon schnitzophonic" husband, August. For the history buff, the story is replete with detail regarding the American circus trains, the state of prohibition, and the speak-easy subculture of the 30s. And finally, for the animal lovers out there, one of the central characters in the novel is Rosie, the Polish-speaking elephant who becomes the star of the show. I couldn't put this book down and I'll bet that you won't be able to either. I'm confident that it will end up on the D-E-S selection list for Book of the Year. Water for Elephants gets four side-show attractions out of five.

Tripping the Life Fantastic

A Scanner Darkly

Philip K. Dick

Vintage

Don't let the cover shot of Keanu Reeves put you off -- this novel is definitely worth reading.

Set in a dystopic Orange County sometime in the late 20th century, A Scanner Darkly tells the story of Bob Arctor, a small-time drug dealer/burnout who is addicted to a drug called Substance D. Unknown to the junkies that share his house, he is also Agent Fred -- an undercover police officer who has been assigned to follow Bob Arctor and to determine where he gets his supply. Fred has the authorities plant recording devices in Bob's home and Bob/Fred essentially narcs on himself. Confused yet? We're just getting started ...

There is so much packed into this novel, it is hard to know where to start. In some respects, the text reads a little like Kerouac's On the Road. The hip talk, the overt misogyny of some of the characters, and the drug-fuelled subculture all reminded me a little bit of the morally corrupt, but ever so interesting Dean Moriarty. Unlike Dean, the main character in this novel, Bob/Fred, is a good man travelling down a bad path not necessarily of his own choosing. Dick goes to great pains to show the layers of manipulation that has Bob/Fred becoming a junkie. Then again, maybe becoming an addict is more of a personal choice and Dick was making some kind of comment about society, scapegoating, and/or peer pressure. So hard to know. Three hits of acid out of five.

More Grit Lit


Troy -- Fall of Kings
David and Stella Gemmell
Transworld

I have to admit that I started this book with some trepidation. As documented somewhere else on this blog (oh, if only I could figure out how to link to previous posts!), I very much enjoyed the first two installments of Gemmell's series. To recap briefly, the author takes familiar characters from Greek mythology and mashes up heroes, gods and events to create a fabulous retelling of the Trojan War.

Sadly, Gemmell passed away before he could complete the last book in the trilogy and I was more than a little worried that his principal researcher and wife, Stella, wouldn't be up to the task. Boy ... was I wrong! In my opinion, Fall of Kings was even better than Shield of Thunder. There was still enough testosterone in the writing to make the book have that gritty appeal (hell -- my dad read this book!) and the story was jammed full of admirable men and dastardly villains.

I could probably go on about this book for quite some time. But I won't. I will, however, issue a word of caution. If you read this series (and I highly recommend that you do), don't break out your Bulfinch. The Gemmells definitely took some huge liberties with the traditional Greek stories and mythology purists might actually be horrified. No matter. Fall of Kings was fast- paced, engaging, and even a little suspenseful. No mean feat when the reader already knows/anticipates how it's going to end. Three winged chariots out of five.

Despair Has Its Own Calm

The Historian
Elizabeth Kostova
Little Brown

Looking back over the past few entries, I realize that I've been in a tremendous rut. Please accept my sincere apologies for boring you all to death with formulaic, lame and often insipid writing. I can offer no excuses. Hopefully this week's post won't suck. (Read on kids ... pun definitely intended.)

The Historian is an intricate, well-crafted novel that is, on one level, a modern reworking of the Dracula myth. At the beginning of the story, we are introduced to the narrator who, as a young girl, discovered a mysterious vellum-bound book in her father's library . Overcome by curiosity, she approaches her parent and asks about the book's history. At first, her father is reluctant to discuss it -- but she persists and eventually he shares the book's tale. The story is so horrific -- so dangerous, in fact -- that the father can only relate it in bits and pieces and it is over the course of a few years that the narrator learns that the book is tied to a great evil -- Vlad Ţepeş of Wallachia. Vlad, it seems, is still alive and the narrator's father is on a quest to find Dracula and to figure out a way to kill him.

On another level, the novel is really about the idea of history and how cultural, social, political and even religious narratives impact our present and future lives. This novel is rich in historical detail and I learned quite a great deal about both medieval and cold war Eastern Europe. I also received an important lesson in early Western/Islamic relations. Reading The Historian has encouraged me to do some research on the Ottoman Empire, the fall of Constantinople, and the blend of Eastern/Western cultures in Turkey, Bulgaria and Hungary. Any novel that makes you want to read history doesn't suck ... even if it is about Dracula. Four impaled Wallachians out of five.

Summer Reading

The Hollow
Nora Roberts
Jove Books

Way back in high school, one of the best parts about the summer was going up to the cottage with a stack of books. When the weather was cooperative, I would literally spend hours drifting in a floating chair tied to the end our dock. Since I didn't want to ruin any of the books that had made the trip with me, my dad made me a "reading plank" that he affixed to the top of the pontoon arms. Attached to the base of the chair was a mesh bag that would drift alongside me. As a kid, it contained juice boxes and pop, as I got older, it kept beer and bottled water. Sigh. I miss those days.

So, why the stroll down memory lane? Well, I'm not ashamed to admit that a good number of the books that I read in those summers could be classified as trashy romances. In fact, two of my aunts would bring up plastic shopping bags full of Harlequins, Regencies, and Silhouettes to be read by anyone who had the time. Happily, I had a lot of time and I would bounce between Dickens and some torrid romance without giving it a second thought.

While not exactly torrid, Robert's The Hollow is definitely a fine example of a good summer read. It had some sex, a little wistfulness, a bit of intrigue and a happy-ish ending. As a follow up to Blood Brothers (the first novel in the trilogy and previously reviewed on this blog,) I'd say that Roberts' accomplished her main objectives -- she advanced the plot, had another budding romance unfold and not so subtlety foreshadowed the next novel. 2.5 floating chairs out of 5.

Mystery Man

Knots & Crosses
Ian Rankin
Orion Books

When I started this blog, one of my primary objectives was to read outside of my comfort zone. Up until a couple of years ago, I wasn't an adventurous reader. Sure -- I owned all sorts of works that you'd find on a grad school syllabus, but aside from the occasional romance, there was nothing on my shelves that remotely resembled "popular" fiction. In fact, you could say that I was a classic EMBS -- English Major Book Snob. Happily, I'm recovering now, but only because you guys (my friends and some loyal blog readers) have taken me beyond the "fiction" section of the bookstore and encouraged me to read other things.

Knots & Crosses, for example, was recommended to me by my BFF Pete. He's been reading Rankin for quite some time and noted two things that have struck him in particular about the series. The first is that the main character, Detective Sergeant John Rebus is a rumpled, imperfect, complicated, yet wholly likeable guy. Peter actually described him as a "good" man and that's not a term that he uses lightly -- even when talking about a fictional character. The other point of interest is that when you start reading the series from the beginning (Knots & Crosses is set in 1985), Rebus exists in a policing world that is essentially still pre-technology. Curiously, the lack of "modernity" didn't seem to date the story in any way and it was that, more than anything else, that sucked me in. So much so, that I was off to the bookstore this afternoon to buy book number two.

I think Rebus and I are going to become friends before all of this is over. I certainly need someone that I can count on in times of trouble and he seems like just the man to fit the bill. Three point five good guys out of five.

I'm 2 Old 4 this Shiz

Londonstani
Gautam Malkani
Harper Collins

When I was growing up, I lived in a small town that wasn't exactly what you'd consider ethnically diverse. While we were less than an hour from the city, you could count the number of non-white families on one hand. One of those families, the Fleckers, lived across the street and I spent a tonne of time hanging out in their home. Mr. Flecker was brilliant, a bit eccentric, and always laughing. Mrs. Flecker, by far the best hugger and most gentle spirit on the block, was a schoolteacher and activist. I loved discovering her latest cause via the articles that she'd cut from the paper and post on her fridge. I guess on some level I knew that they weren't "like me", but they were part of the fabric of my youth and and I loved them.

One day, on a visit home from grad school, I pulled into the driveway and waved at Mr. Flecker who was out watering his plants. It was like I was suddenly struck by lightening. I rushed into the house and in an astonished voice cried "OH MY GOD. Mr. Flecker is Indian!" My mother just looked at me and calmly said "Yes, honey, he is. What did you think?" I have to say, that until that precise moment, I had never given it a thought. Up until that morning, he was just Mr. Flecker -- the nice man who used to rummage in his desk to give me a present whenever I wandered over. What had changed in me that I suddenly noticed that he was brown? I'm still searching for the answer to that question and quite honestly, it was a defining moment in my life.

Gautam Malkani's novel, Londonstani, also poses some questions about culture, class, community, family and relationships. Written in an idiom/language that is as complex as the characters are stereotypes, the book explores the Indian "sub culture" in contemporary London and in particular, in the mostly Indian borough of Hounslow. If you can handle the combination of txt msg, Panjabi, and gangsta-speak, this book is well worth reading. The ideas that it posits about cultural (mis)appropriation and Bling Bling economics are particularly interesting. And, bruv, b on da look out for da killa twist at de end, in't. Three point five bhangra beats out of five.

Uh, Please Stand By

To Wed a Wicked Prince

Jane Feather

Simon & Schuster

Now, before you all castigate me for reading yet another crappy romance, let me just say that lately, I've had the attention span of a tsetse fly. Prior to picking up this (uh, is there a nice word for piece of shite?) gem, I had actually started Londonstani by Gautam Malkani. Awesome book, but the idiomatic dialogue (part gangsta, part Brit, part South Asian) makes for slow going and I just don't have the time to get into a good reading groove. I know, I know -- it sounds like I'm rationalizing, right? Well, let's just say that if it takes me over a week to read a trashy romance, we are not in Kansas anymore.

So, back to the book. I'm willing to acknowledge that I was an inattentive reader and that I actually skipped over entire sections of this novel (how many descriptions of well-appointed rooms or riding habits can one person take?) And I probably wasn't in the most generous frame of mind when it came to assessing the plot. Yes, it was shallow -- girl meets boy/prince, prince is involved in a plot to assassinate the tsar of Russia and lies to girl, boy and girl fight about the lies and eventually make up -- but it did exist. I cannot, however, find any excuse that can explicate the sheer wretchedness of the writing. Let's hope that Jane Feather is a pseudonym. Honestly, I wouldn't want to admit to having authored this particular story. In fact, I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I even read it. Minus two prinnys out of five.

A Bleak House

A Thousand Splendid Suns
Khaled Hosseini
Bloomsbury

If I were to ask you list five attributes that characterize the "perfect read", what would they be? I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about what appeals to me and I've discovered that there are some relatively specific criteria that I apply when deciding whether or not I enjoy a text. While I happily acknowledge that the act of reading is usually a very phenomenological, often personal experience, I thought it might interest some of you to know what's considered a good read by the D-E-S. Here goes:

1. Back to basics. For me, the perfect read usually has a strong plot, interesting subtext(s) and characters that show some kind of "real" growth throughout the course of the novel.
2. Lyrical descriptions. While I can appreciate a stark economy of words, I'm a sucker for a well constructed turn of phrase that invokes my senses and makes me feel the text.
3. An absent author. I HATE literature that is overtly didactic and honestly, I don't really care what the author thinks. Let me piece it together by what the characters say, do, observe -- don't whack me over the head with it.
4. Layers of narration. Books that have stories within stories and multiple narrators almost always grab my interest. I think that why I like Fantasy so much -- the view is always shifting.
5. Another world. When I can close my eyes and see myself in the world that the author describes, that's when I know I'm reading a good book.

In case you were wondering, I decided to do a "top five" this week because Hosseini's book is so amazing that, well, I just can't write about it. It's too intimidating. Set in the streets of Kabul, the novel tells the story of two Afghani women, separated by a generation, who live through their country's incessant turmoil -- from the overthrowing of the monarchy, to the war against the Soviets, to the eventual rule of the Taliban. Part history, part social commentary, part love story, A Thousand Splendid Suns is, in a word, unforgettable. Please read it.

Down by the Bay

The Ladies' Lending Library

Janice Kulyk Keefer

Harper Collins

I'm not sure what any of you are like in terms of your book buying habits, but I always seem to have more novels on my shelves than I could possibly hope to read within a given period. Occasionally, it makes me feel so guilty that I place a temporary ban on the bookstore in an attempt to whittle down the queue. The subject of this week's blog entry had been sitting in the "to be read" pile for months and from the title, I thought it was going to be a bit of a snoozer. Happily I can report that I couldn't have been more wrong!

The Ladies' Lending Library tells the story of a group of immigrant women who spend their summers with their children on the shores of Georgian Bay. During the week, the women supervise the kids, gossip, read trashy romances, and get everything ready for their husbands to join them at their respective cottages on the weekend. Set in the early 60s, the book deals with all sorts of themes -- love, connectedness, assimilation, independence, individuality and passion. In fact, the subtext of this novel -- the tensions between the immigrant and first generation Canadian experience -- is very similar to what was explored in the Lewycka's A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. Both are perfect candidates for a thinking woman's book club. Three sun-kissed days out of five.

A Girl Named George

The Witch of Portobello

Paulo Coelho

Harper Perennial

So, one of the things that I really like about Paulo Coelho's writing is that he's unashamedly spiritual (please note that in his case, spiritual does not equate to crackpot.) Frequently, I find that his characters uncannily express how I'm feeling about myself and the world at the precise time that I am reading his texts.

The Witch of Portobello is basically a novel about self-definition. The story is told from a number of points of view and Coelho uses an interesting narrative device to relate the main character's story. We never actually hear from Athena directly -- the novel is set up as a series of transcribed interviews where people talk about how she has impacted/changed their lives by observing how she lived her own.

In terms of themes, this is a typical Coelho offering as it examines the ideas of courage, love, joy, passion, self-acceptance and sacrifice. Athena is definitely a Warrior of the Light and like the heroes from The Pilgrimage and The Alchemist, there is a lot that we can learn from being witness to her journey. Three spiritual guides out of five.

Only the Shadow Knows

Shadowplay
Tad Williams
DAW

As I write this, I’m sitting at the gate in LHR waiting to board a flight. While I haven’t been travelling too much as of late, I am still managing to put in enough time at the airport to get some serious reading done. For this particular trip, I actually broke one of my cardinal rules of travel and brought along a ginormous 600+ pager. Yeah, yeah, -- not exactly a short haul friendly tome. On an overseas flight (where I can, ahem, check luggage), it makes the space argument a little less compelling, and frankly, this one was definitely worth the room in the carry on.

Shadowplay is Williams’ second book of the Shadowmarch trilogy. If you recall, I reviewed the first book for one of my initial entries for this blog (don’t go back and read it – WAY too long). While I really liked the opening effort, I think that the second instalment lived up to (and maybe even exceeded) the standards of the first. From the moment I picked it up, I didn’t really want to do anything but read. So what if I travelled a few thousand miles to go to the office this week? Work schmerk.

Book Two of the series picks up right where the last book left off. Unlike a lot of serialized fiction, Williams makes the assumption that the readers have been following along and very little time is wasted summarizing the plot. As for the content, it’s the usual fantasy fare -- anthropomorphic creatures, battles, magic and death. Really – what’s not to love? Three fellowship rings out of five.

Anything But

The Big Sleep

Raymond Chandler

Vintage Crime/Black Lizard

Okay, so I've got to come clean. Deep breath ... I'm addicted to detective novels. There ... I said it and it hardly even hurt. Of course, I'm blaming it all on an evil, yet "well-intentioned" friend. Last summer when I was dying for a good book, Russ recommended Chandler's The Big Sleep. Unfortunately, the local bookstore didn't have it and I picked up The Lady in the Lake instead. I totally loved that novel, but believe it or not, this one was even better.

Like the other Marlowe book, The Big Sleep is set in and around Los Angeles in the late 30s. The cagey and unspeakably sexy hero, Philip Marlowe, has been hired by an aging oil tycoon to find out who has been blackmailing one of his wayward daughters. There are more twists in this plot than a mountain road has curves, and while I will admit to finding it a bit of a stretch at times, the writing was so engaging that I didn't really care. Chandler possesses a grim economy of words that is both disconcerting and delightful. His more than slightly misogynistic descriptions of women are especially wonderful and for those of you who are (un)lucky enough to have me as an IM contact, you might have noticed that you were treated to an entire week of politically incorrect Marlowisms.

Oh yeah ... if you haven't figured it out, the title of this week's entry relates to the title of the book. It was anything but a big sleep --in fact, I couldn't put it down. Four RedBulls out of five.

Working Girl

The Observations
Jane Harris
Faber and Faber

I have to apologize to my regular readers for not updating the blog the past couple of weeks. There really isn't a good excuse. Admittedly, part of me is still thinking about The Book Thief, but I've also been crazy busy at work, getting frustrated by my diet/workout schedule, looking around for a new place to live, and spending a significant amount of time writing email. I can normally multi-task with the best of them, but really -- I've been pooped.

The other part of the problem was the subject of this week's entry -- Harris' The Observations. I can't think of another way to say it, so I'm just going to be blunt. This book completely sucked. It could be that my expectations were too high. In picking it up off the table (I got it a few weeks ago when I was over in the UK) I was drawn in by the comparisons to characters such as Moll Flanders and Becky Sharp. I loved both of those books and was really looking forward to a similar read. So that was my first mistake.

I might have been able to live with the flat characterizations had the book told a more interesting story. It's been awhile since I've thoroughly savaged a text, but Harris' narrative was entirely predictable. No such thing as subtle foreshadowing or plot twists in this effort. One vituperative Victorian out of five.

It is certain that stealing nourishes courage, strength, skill, tact ...

The Book Thief
Markus Zusak
Black Swan

I must have been about ten or so when my mother decided I was mature enough to understand, and therefore read, The Diary of Anne Frank. Up to that point, the war hadn't been discussed much in my house. I grew up knowing that both of my grandfathers had "fought for our country", but being a child of the 70s, I didn't really have any context for what that meant. Reading Anne's story completely changed my life. I became obsessed with the narratives of the Second World War and in particular, I developed an unhealthy interest in the Holocaust.

The main character in The Book Thief, Liesel Meminger, reminds me a great deal of Anne Frank. Set in a small town just outside of Munich, the novel tells the story of a little girl who is sent out to live with a working-class foster family just prior to the start of the war. In some ways, the books is a classic bildungsroman as the reader is witness to Liesel's journey from young girl to young adult. In other ways, though, the story is about larger themes -- war, resistance, inequality, literature, love, and kindness. Every page of this novel (curiously narrated by Death) deserves to be read and once you pick it up, you won't be able to put it down. Four stolen books out of five.

Hardboiled ... and Then Some

The Maltese Falcon
Dashiell Hammett
Vintage Crime/Black Lizard

We met in a an out-of-the-way bar just off O'Farrell and Mason. I was on assignment writing a special for the Examiner, Sam was working a case. He came over to my table, stopped in front of me and said "Sweetheart, can you be a pal and talk to me like we know each other?" I shrugged my acquiescence and gestured toward a chair on the opposite side of the table. Sam quirked a thickish brow and surveyed me top-to-toe with those yellow-grey eyes. He signaled to the barman, sat down next to me and leaned in. "You look like a dame," he said with a languid grin, "Who can appreciate a drink. Tell me your story to help me pass the time." Sigh. If I had only known what I was getting into.

Sam, it seems, did not approach me by chance. I was in San Francisco chasing down leads on a stolen artifact related to the Templars. I didn't know it at the time, but Sam had been engaged to find the same object d'art by one of my paper's chief rivals. All I had was a story at stake -- for Sam, it was decidedly more personal. The night before we met, his business partner had been murdered and it was somehow all tangled up in the missing statue. Sam was charming and sexy, and while I was falling in love, he was pumping me for information. I should have figured him for a private eye the moment he walked in. He had that don't fuck with me, lone-wolf look that I've been attracted to before.

In the end, we both got what we wanted. The statue turned out to be a fake and for the most part, the bad guys got away. After a few days, I said goodbye to San Francisco as I was hot on the trail of another story. As for Sam, well, I have a feeling that I'll be back to visit him someday soon. He was an interesting man and I'm always up for a little murder and mayhem. And oh, just in case you were wondering -- the drink that Sam ordered? It was a Manhattan. Best damn drink I've ever had -- I'd give it five stars out of five.

Something Can Taste Worse than Buckley’s

The Shock Doctrine – The Rise of Disaster Capitalism
Naomi Klein
Random House

If you have been following this blog for even the briefest period, you’ll have noticed that, quite frankly, I read an awful lot of crap. While I don’t believe that you have to read/eat/be good all of the time, I do think that everyone has a social responsibility to try to improve themselves and in doing so, improve the quality of life of those around them. That said, every once in awhile, I try to read a book that I know will be “good for me” even though I might not like it.

Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine is a thoroughly researched, thought-provoking look at the rise of free-market fundamentialism of the last half-century and how various governments and regimes (from Pinochet's Chile, to Yeltsin's Russia to Bush's privatized war on Iraq) have followed the principles of shock and awe to re-make their respective economies. Sometimes, as in the case of New Orleans or Sri Lanka, the shock and awe is due to an overwhelming natural disaster that presents a "reconstruction" opportunity too good to be missed. In other cases, like the coup against Allende or the invasion of Iraq, economic shock therapy is directly tied to violence, torture and abuse. Regardless of the source, the disturbing trend in all cases is that the economic makeovers serve only to line the pockets of the already rich. Sure, it might be free market capitalism at its best, but is it moral?

I could go on at length about all the upsetting things that I read in this book. I have to say, though, that it was Klein's examination of present-day war profiteering that bothered me the most. To read the chapters in her book about Rumsfeld, Blackwater, Lockheed Martin, and Halliburton literally made my stomach hurt. So much so, that I wanted to stop reading. Like a good girl, I took my medicine and I'm better off for it. I'd suggest that you take it too. Four and a half cough drops out of five.

Roses are Red, Violets are Not ...

The Eaten Heart: Unlikely Tales of Love

Giovanni Boccaccio

Penguin Books

In honour of St. Valentine's Day, I figured I should post an entry about love. Don't laugh -- I know I'm not exactly considered an authority on the subject (can you say disaster with boys?) Thankfully, Boccaccio was an Italian living on the verge of the Renaissance and as such, I'd say that he knew all about the painful, beautiful, exciting, dreadful, angst-ridden, most joyful of all emotions.

The Eaten Heart is a series of tales excerpted from Boccaccio's Decameron. The year is 1348 and ten very witty and charming Florentines flee their plague-filled city and retreat to the country where they tell each other tales to pass the time. Unlike his literary predecessor, Dante, Boccaccio is no moralist and his stories are filled with humour, bawdy language, sex and intrigue. A lot of really good aphorisms have come out of this text, but my favourite has to be, "One woman could exhaust many men, whereas many men can't exhaust one woman." So who cares if it is a little anti-feminist? It's pretty funny and the fact that it said by an old woman encouraging a young wife to cheat on her husband makes me laugh even more. Three point five cupids out of five.

And oh, the title for this week's entry? I'll buy dinner for the person who comes up with the most creative/funniest completion to the poem.

Off the Grid

The Dark River
John Twelve Hawks
Random House

So, one of the things that I really like about fantasy/science fiction is its ability to provide biting social commentary without being overly didactic. Unfortunately, there was nothing subtle about this novel and Twelve Hawks basically uses a sledgehammer to drive home his message about the dangers of information age.

The Dark River continues the story of Gabriel and Michael, two young men who learn that they have the power to travel across "realities" and take themselves to other dimensions. The brothers are divided -- Michael joins the evil Tabula and uses his new powers to manipulate and control. Gabriel remains on the run, protected by the group of friends that he met in the first novel.

Like most second books in a trilogy, The Dark River is not as compelling as the first. While it is fast paced and moderately interesting, it is more of a transition novel and is (hopefully) setting things up for an action-packed, thought provoking finale. I'll probably wait until the last book comes out in trade paperback before picking it up. I'm not sure that The Dark River was worth the price of the hardcover. Two point five RFID tags out of five.

All Hat and a Bag of Chips

All Hat
Brad Smith
Penguin

A couple of Saturdays ago, I was wandering around the bookstore with some Christmas money burning a hole in my pocket. I had been having a difficult time finding something to read when, all of a sudden, a wobbly old lady lurched into my path. Truth be told, she almost took a header down the Chapters staircase and in my heroic effort to prevent a broken hip, I inadvertently knocked over part of a display. Happily for us both, I caught her in time and after getting a frail hug and a couple of kisses, I went to pick up the books that I had scattered. Once my hand touched Smith's All Hat, I knew it had to be mine. And they say good deeds usually go unrewarded. Hah! ...

All Hat is the story of Ray Dokes, a paroled ex-con who decides to return to the Ontario town of his childhood to re-establish some kind of "normal" life on the outside. His main goal is to stay out of trouble, but that proves difficult when the local bigshot, Sonny Stanton, is buying up all the farmland in the region and has his sights set on the place that just happens to belong to Ray's former girlfriend. Oh, did I mention that Ray went to jail for beating Sonny to a pulp after he found out that Sonny had raped Ray's little sister? Ray, it seems, has a taste for revenge and a plan that is so daring that it just might work. Or land him back in jail. You'll have to read it to find out.

Part Carl Hiaassen and part Alice Munroe, this story has a cast of characters that are at once infinitely zany and infinitely recognizable for those of us who grew up in a small Canadian town. I quite liked this novel and it is probably our first 2008 contender for the DES book of the year. Three sleek geldings out of five.

Withering ... Wuthering ... Whatever

Wuthering Heights

Emily Brontë

Penguin Classics

Hey gang -- so I finished Wuthering Heights on Monday. It is now a week later and I'm still struggling to find something relevant to say about this book. If you haven't read it before, WH is essentially a dark, brooding love story between two wholly unlikeable characters -- Mr. Heathcliff and his beloved, Catherine Earnshaw.

For me, the most fascinating element of this novel is the layers of narration. The story is told to the reader through Mr. Lockwood -- a tenant of Heathcliff's at Thrushcross Grange. He, in turn, is being told the story by Heathcliff's childhood playmate and former housekeeper, Nelly Dean. Other "eyewitness accounts" are shared with reader and it is amazing how Brontë manages to maintain the narrative's vibrancy and impact by essentially telling the tale through a series of "he said, she saids." While I didn't particularly care for any of the characters, I still really enjoyed this novel. Brontë's depiction of love as an all-consuming, soul-destroying force is as beautiful as it is terrifying. WH gets three howling winds across the moors out of five.

Brains ... I Need Brains ...

Crime and Punishment

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Penguin Classics

Never have I purported to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but this is one classic that definitely went over my head. Here's the basic plot: Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov, a depressed, really bright, but slightly mad former law student commits a random murder at the beginning of the novel. If you can look past the murder, he seems to be a fairly decent guy -- he wants to do right by his family, shares his meager funds with others less "fortunate" than he, and even falls for and is eventually redeemed by his love for Sonya, a young woman who is forced into prostitution to support her parents and siblings.

After the murder-- which happens in the first few chapters -- the rest of the novel deals with the Raskolnikov's inner struggle and how he copes with the psychological ramifications of what he has done. My problem with the book is that I don't get what motivated him to kill the old woman in the first place. I put the question to my friend Victor (an educated man and a lover of Russian literature) and his response was to quote a lyric from Cash's Folsom Prison Blues -- "I shot a man in Reno/Just to watch him die."

Um, okay, but that doesn't really get me any closer to the "why" of it. I'm going to be honest here -- I thought Rodion was a bit of a nihilist. And then I thought he had read too much Nietzsche (only sort of kidding.) And then I wondered if he was a plain ol' sociopath. Jury is still out. I'm meeting Victor for lunch on Sunday. Maybe he can help me make sense of it all. Four greasy kopecks out of five.

And the Winner is ...

I bet you guys thought I forgot all about the Dog-eared Soul's Book of the Year. I held off on announcing the winner as I was a little slow in distributing some of my Christmas gifts and I didn't want to give away the surprise.

The book that moved me most in the past year was unquestionably Tahar Ben Jelloun's This Blinding Absence of Light. I believe that it is possible to be fundamentally changed by what you read and this book made me stop and take a look at my life from a different perspective. It was a tough choice for a couple of reasons. I'm not sure that all my friends are going to like it. While it ultimately delivers a message of hope and strength, there's also a lot of despair and, well, madness, in this novel. It's not a fun read and I think you have to be in the right frame of mind to engage with the text.

I also considered not selecting it because it is, almost, non-fiction. What do I mean "almost, non-fiction?" Well, I don't know. Is it a memoir? I hope not -- I've categorically stated that I'm not a fan of the memoir. Is it a fictionalized account of true events? Maybe. Does it make its message any less powerful if all of the elements didn't really happen? Again, I don't think so, but I'm not totally sure. I say -- pick it up, read it, and judge for yourself. And if you have any thoughts on the matter, please share.

Best to all for 2008. I wish you health, laughter, and a soul that dances on the wind.

Happy Friggin' New Year

Blood Brothers

Nora Roberts

Jove

Yes, I am pathetic and totally willing to admit it. Here it is, New Year's Eve, and I'm at home reading and working on my blog. For those of you that know me well, this will not come as much of a surprise. You see, I definitely have a thing against New Year.

As a really little kid, I actually loved it. We used to go to this house party at a friend's place in the country and while my parents never let me stay up until midnight, they did let me eat chips, inhale candy, and drink pop. Big night when I got to do all that and had bedtime extended to 9:30 pm.

It wasn't really until my teenage years that the "problems" began. 1985 saw me ringing in the New Year with a cast on my arm and bruises all over my body. My Aunt Jack and I had been in a head-on collision earlier in the afternoon. We were going to Kitchener to see a Nylons concert, got caught in some slush and then whammo, straight into on-coming traffic.

The next year, I thought I'd take it easy and invite Jennie Beaton over for a quiet night of movies and gossip. Well, quiet until Jennie raided the liquor cabinet and we both did our first drunk-and-dials. To this day I'm pretty sure my parents believed that we had a terrible case of the flu. I'm also pretty sure that I just wanted to die.

In my early twenties, I usually spent New Year's Eve with my boyfriend and his rugby buddies. I was the only girlfriend in the group who was from "away" and as the lone import, the girls didn't go out of their way to make me feel terribly welcome. I'd hang with the guys and flirt until they got too drunk and then hie myself off to bed.

Then there was the time that I broke out in hives when I belatedly realized that I was allergic to the echinacea I was taking to ward off a winter cold. I had hives where, well, you'd think a girl couldn't get hives. My date for the evening thought I was making it all up and never spoke to me again. Sigh. He was hot and the evening could have been promising. Wasn't meant to be, I suppose.

The next year things were looking up and I found myself celebrating on a beach in Curacao with my then boyfriend and his best friend. Sounds ideal, right? Well, imagine being on a holiday when both the girlfriend and the best friend are in love with the boyfriend. That was the final straw and from then on, I decided to celebrate New Year on my own by doing something that I love. Sometimes I have a movie fest (last year I watched all six episodes of Star Wars back-to-back,) sometimes I fast and indulge in girlie stuff like pedicures, getting my hair done, doing makeup, and sometimes, like this year, I go on a romance binge and read all sorts of trashy books.

Blood Brothers, the most recent offering from Nora Roberts, definitely qualifies as trash. The basic premise is that three small town boys go to the local haunted wood to celebrate their birthday (they were all born on the same day at the same time.) While there, they swear an oath of loyalty, and in binding it with their blood, unleash a demon into the world. Flash forward 21 years -- the same boys (now men) need to figure out how to stop the demon. Enter Quinn, a writer who decides to come to the town to do some research for her next book. She's lovely, curvy, and somehow connected to the strange goings-on. Of course, she just happens to fall in love with one of the boys turned men. I have to say, the plot is a tad more complicated than the average Harlequin, and the mix of fantasy and romance has caught my interest. I'll probably stick around for the second and third installments. Two screaming demons out of five.

'Tis but a Scratch!

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Simon Armitage

Faber and Faber

When I was an undergrad, my worst mark ever was the B+ I received in Middle English from Dr. Weldon. While I hated the professor and his pedantic approach to the texts, I loved the course material and would spend hours reading off the syllabus. I have to admit to not being a huge fan of poetry, but there is just something about verse from the Middle Ages that captures my imagination.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was written around 1400. Not a lot is known about the poet and the poem itself is noteworthy in that it draws on the Old English tradition of alliteration. For those of you, um, unpoetical types, alliteration is the repetition of a particular consonant sound or leading vowel in a phrase. It sounds easy, I know, but to do it in such a way that it adds to rather than distracts from a text is quite a talent -- and the Gawain poet does it with such style.

This particular edition of the poem is a new translation by Simon Armitage. He maintains the alliteration and in my opinion, does a fantastic job with the verse. The plot is pretty simple -- a bunch of knights are hanging out with Arthur and Guinevere over the Christmas break. Suddenly, the door to the hall bursts open and in tromps a very large man all dressed in green. He issues a challenge and invites one of Arthur's company to fell him with a blow -- the caveat being that should the Green Knight live, the knight must seek him out a year hence and agree to the same terms. Gawain takes up the challenge, fails to kill the green knight (who, in fact, picks up his severed head, tucks it under his arm and rides off) and then, a year later, sets out on his own quest. Talk about a party trick! Armitage's translation gets 5 green girdles out of 5.

And the Nominees Are ...

So, it's not like the D-E-S has been deluged with requests or anything, but a few of you written to ask about this year's candidates for best book. It's a tough one ... I ended up reading a lot of really good stuff this year and picking just one is going to take some serious thought.

In fact, it might be easier to come up with some exclusion criteria. Romances are not eligible by virtue of the fact that they are absolute crap and essentially the same book regardless of sub-genre, historical period, or setting.

Non-fiction books, while impressive and impactful, are not eligible. Maybe someday I will get motivated enough to set up another category for a non-fiction winner. But not today.

Any post where I made mention of Bruce Campbell -- those books aren't eligible either. Don't get me wrong, I love Bruce. But he's not serious and high-minded -- not at all what we are looking for in a D-E-S book of the year.

So, after all that, the nominees are:

Three Day Road Joseph Boyden
Arthur & George Julian Barnes
The Road Cormac McCarthy
This Blinding Absence of Light Tahar Ben Jelloun
The Traveler John Twelve Hawks

Jay Silverheels ... what were you thinking?

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven
Sherman Alexie
Grove Press

I read somewhere that Sherman Alexie is better known for his poetry than for his prose. He must be a helluva poet, because this book of short stories is simply amazing.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven is a series of vignettes set in a Spokane reservation in Washington State. The stories feature a variety of characters across a generation and all of the tales in some way deal with what it means to be Native in a post-modern, white person's world. Alexie's depiction of life on the reservation brought back some good memories for me -- going to powwows on the Chippewa First Nations' reserve near my cottage and marvelling at the energy, inclusivity, power and grace of the dancers.

It also brought back some not-so-good memories for me and frankly, a great deal of guilt and frustration. No matter what you might hear, Canada has not treated its First Nations with respect. While we didn't commit the same level of genocide as our neighbours to the south (let's not forget that we did manage to wipe out an entire people -- Newfoundland's Beothuk,) the country still has a lot of reparations, reconciliations, and apologies to be made.

But I digress ... I really liked this book because even though I'm not native, I could still relate to Alexie's characters and their flaws. The poetic, almost magic-realist feel to the work made for a beautiful, but sometimes elusive read. Four laughing coyotes out of five.

Someone's Gotta Do it ...

A Dirty Job

Christopher Moore

Harper Collins

Holy cow! It has been exactly a month since I last posted anything on this blog. Instead of providing a laundry list of excuses as to why I haven't been reading/writing, I'm just going to hang my head in shame and get on with today's entry.

A few years ago, I introduced a few of you to Lamb -- The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. It was easily the funniest book that I had read in the last decade and it became the then equivalent of the D-E-S Book of the Year. Because I had enjoyed it so much, I was reluctant to read anything else by the author. Why muck with perfection? (C'mon, you had to expect at least one Jesus pun.) Quite recently, one of my good friends bought me a copy of A Dirty Job and I thought it would be churlish of me to leave it unread. Who wants to be a churl?

I can't believe I'm typing this, but A Dirty Job is almost as funny as Lamb. Set in present day San Francisco, the novel tells the story of Charlie Asher -- a slightly neurotic owner of a Bay area secondhand shop. At the beginning of the story, Asher's wife dies giving birth to their daughter Sophie. As Charlie struggles to cope with his grief and get used to the demands of a new baby, he learns that he has inherited some disturbing new responsibilities. You see, Charlie wakes up one day to realize that he's become Death -- or at least one's of death's minions (Charlie's not the sharpest knife in the drawer.) The chaos that ensues when Charlie tries to reject his new role is mordantly funny. A Dirty Job gets four scythes out of five.

It's All About the Hair

Blink

Malcolm Gladwell

Back Bay Books

It has been awhile since I've reviewed any non-fiction on this blog and I'm finding it rather difficult to get this entry going. To paraphrase Malcolm Gladwell, Blink is an adventure story that explores the human ability to make judgements, draw conclusions, and rapidly understand situations all in about the same time as it takes you to bat your eyelashes.

Part psychology text, part sociological tract, Gladwell's work articulates the theory of rapid cognition -- that is, how the mind processes information without really "thinking" about it. During this journey, he asks his readers to consider some fundamental questions that could and probably should inform our own world views. What would happen if we took our instincts seriously? How would our world change if we, as Gladwell suggest, stopped looking at the horizon with our binoculars and focused our microscopes on our own decision making processes? If you are interested in a plausible, reasonable and well written response to either of those questions, then Blink is a book for you.

Oh, and just so you know, I think MG has replaced Bruce Campbell as my new pseudo-celebrity fixation. He's got a lot going for him -- he writes for The New Yorker, he's Canadian, and he's even been on Oprah. Impressive. Blink gets four rapid eye movements out of five.