Book Log 2012

1 01 2012

1. Triumph: the untold story of Jesse Owens and Hitler’s Olympics — Jeremy Schaap (2007) [review here]

2. The Wapshot Chronicle — John Cheever (1957) [review here]

3. A Short History of Nearly Everything — Bill Bryson (2003) [review here]

4. Beyond the Blue Event Horizon — Frederik Pohl (1980) [review here]

5. From Sawdust to Stardust: The Biography of DeForest Kelley, Star Trek‘s Dr. McCoy — Terry Lee Rioux (2005) [review here]

6. Andersonville — MacKinlay Kantor (1955)

7. On Writing — Stephen King (2000)

8. Liberia: History of the First African Republic — Abayomi Cassell (1970)

9. The Bridge of San Luis Rey — Thornton Wilder (1927)

10. March — Geraldine Brooks (2005)

11. Aquariums of Pyongyang: Ten Years in the North Korean Gulag — Kang Chol-Hwan & Pierre Rigoulot (2000)

12. True Grit — Charles Portis (1968)

13. America’s War: Talking about the Civil War and Emancipation on their 150th anniversaries — edited by Edward L. Ayers (2011)

14. The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas — Gertrude Stein (1933)

15. Under the Banner of Heaven: A story of violent faith — Jon Krakauer (2003)

16. Instant City: life and death in Karachi — Steve Inskeep (2011)

17. A Study in Scarlet — Arthur Conan Doyle (1887)

18. God Is Not Great: How religion poisons everything — Christopher Hitchens (2007)

19. Crossroads of Freedom: Antietam — James M. McPherson (2002)

20. The Day the Martians Came — Frederik Pohl (1988)

21. Lavinia — Ursula K. Le Guin (2008)

22. Drift: the unmooring of American military power — Rachel Maddow (2012)

23. Slouching Towards Bethlehem — Joan Didion (1968)

24. Hotel Du Lac — Anita Brookner (1984)

25. Paul Newman: a life — Shawn Levy (2009)

26. Every Third Thought: a novel in five seasons — John Barth (2011)

27. Nibelungenlied (The Song of the Nibelungs) — Unknown (ca. AD 1200). Translated by Frank G. Ryder (1962)

28. Midnight Rising: John Brown and the Raid That Sparked the Civil War — Tony Horwitz (2011)

29. The Fear: Robert Mugabe and the Martyrdom of Zimbabwe — Peter Godwin (2010)

30. Leviathan, or the Matter, Forme, & Power, of a Commonwealth, Ecclesiasticall and Civill — Thomas Hobbes (1651)

31. The Taqwacores — Michael Muhammad Knight (2004)

32. No Man Knows My History: the life of Joseph Smith — Fawn M. Brodie (1945)

33. The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice — William Shakespeare (1603/04)

34. The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness — Michelle Alexander (2010)

35. Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln — Doris Kearns Goodwin (2005)

36. Breakfast of Champions — Kurt Vonnegut (1973)

37. Danny, the Champion of the World — Roald Dahl (1975)

38. Last Orders — Graham Swift (1996)

39. Beowulf — Unknown (ca. AD 650-1000). Translated by Seamus Heaney (2000)

40. Grendel — John Gardner (1971)

41. Soccernomics: why England loses, why Spain, Germany, and Brazil win, and why the U.S., Japan, Australia, Turkey—and even Iraq—are destined to become the kings of the world’s most popular sport — Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski (2009)





Book Log 2011

30 12 2011

I didn’t open a book “with intent” this year until sometime in late August. I cannot explain why but I just did not feel like reading, which was sort of worrying since I’ve been a voracious reader all my life. I finished Trout Fishing In America right around the New Year, and since I did not include it in my log for 2010, I’ve included it here.

grapes of wrath coverOnce I did start reading, I managed to get some pretty good books in before the year’s end. The best book I read this year was the one I just finished last night, The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck’s examination of Dust Bowl migrant farmers. If you have never read it, do. If you have read it, read it again. I hadn’t read it since college about 15 years ago, and it is much better than I remembered; in part because I think I’m a better reader now than I was then (more practiced in critical thought and close reading, and more appreciative of well-crafted writing), and in part because it speaks directly to a lot of the things that I have been thinking heavily about lately: suffering, economic equality, cruelty, generosity, etc. It has been called communist propaganda but I think it would be more accurately described as Humanist propaganda. On top of the grand themes, Steinbeck is a master of prose, able to both construct a large and intensely believable plot and cast of characters, and stick the emotional knife into the reader and twist it to maximum effect. Most classics are classics for a reason and The Grapes of Wrath is a perfect example of this.

I am making an effort to consume more non-fiction, and while I didn’t get the 1-to-1 ratio of fiction-to-non that I’d aimed for, five of the 14 books I read were non-fic, all of which were edifying if not always entertaining. Eating Animals made me continue to look hard at what I put in my body (which currently constitutes a vegetarian diet and may ultimately end up closer to vegan…did I just write that?); 1491 and Mornings on Horseback broadened my deficient knowledge of New World/American history (I know more about the Peloponnesian War than the American Civil War, sadly); and Fear and Loathing: Campaign ’72 and Consider the Lobster helped me realize that there are great authors writing non-fiction (I knew about Hunter S. Thompson, but Lobster is the first David Foster Wallace book I’ve read, and he is a simply brilliant, gifted writer).

My first and greatest love remains fiction, specifically novels. Whether pulpy sci-fi or big meaty lit-class stuff, I love a novel, and I read some good ones this year. It turned out to be one of the first books I ever read, The Hobbit, that helped me get back into the rhythm of reading this year after that inexplicable eight-month hiatus. I normally read quite a bit of sci-fi, but this year the only thing I read from that genre was Man Plus, well-written 1970s psychedelia with a sense of humor and a sense of horror. All the Pretty Horses is top notch (though the best thing I’ve read by Cormac McCarthy is still Blood Meridian), and J.G. Ballard’s Crash is disturbing on both a psychological and a visceral level (but still worth reading!). I got a few lulz out of the Tarzan book I read (review linked below). The most disappointing books I read this year were The Thin Man and The Nigger Factory, in both cases because I expected them to be so much better.

So here’s the list for 2011. As I said I finished The Grapes of Wrath last night, and this morning I began reading Triumph, Jeremy Schaap’s book about Jesse Owens at Hitler’s Olympics, which will be the first book on my log for 2012.

1. Trout Fishing In America — Richard Brautigan (1967)

2. The Hobbit, or There and Back Again — J.R.R. Tolkien (1937)

3. Consider the Lobster and Other Essays — David Foster Wallace (2005)

4. Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail ’72 — Hunter S. Thompson (1973)

5. Crash — J.G. Ballard (1973)

6. 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus — Charles G. Mann (2005)

7. All the Pretty Horses — Cormac McCarthy (1992)

8. The Nigger Factory — Gil Scott-Heron (1972)

9. Man Plus — Frederik Pohl (1976)

10. The Thin Man — Dashiell Hammett (1934) [review here]

11. Eating Animals — Jonathan Safran Foer (2009)

12. Jungle Tales of Tarzan — Edgar Rice Burroughs (1919) [review here]

13. Mornings on Horseback: The Story of an Extraordinary Family, a Vanished Way of Life and the Unique Child Who Became Theodore Roosevelt — David McCullough (1981)

14. The Grapes of Wrath — John Steinbeck (1939)





Beers and Books

19 04 2010

If you’ve been reading the book reviews I’ve posted on this site, you may have noticed the unexplained “DBC” notation that appears next to some of the titles. I will now explain.

When I moved to Portland in 2001, I knew nearly nobody. One day after work (this would have been sometime around January 2002), I was at the Virginia Cafe downtown having a burger and reading a book. A guy sat down next to me, who also had a book; we struck up a conversation, and in a very short span of time he was my first new “Portland friend” (you can see from this why people like Portland so much – it really is mostly a friendly town).

This guy – whose name is Warren and with whom I am still good friends – invited me to join him at his book club, which met at the Lucky Labrador Brew Pub once a month (the above picture was taken at the Beer Hall on NW Quimby). I went, met some more good people and discovered my new favorite brewery, and became a member of: The Drunken Book Club

From the silly name you might think we just meet to drink the delicious beers at Lucky Lab. We do meet on “Miser Monday,” but we’re not just drunks (not just); we do talk about the books we read, sometimes for as long as an hour! I jest. We love our books, we love our beers; and 8 years later, the DBC is as ingrained a feature of my life in Portland as the Timbers Army or anything else.

I don’t make it to every meeting (I maybe miss 2 per year), but I can’t imagine not being a part of the DBC: I’ve been exposed to many new and great authors (and some not so great), and I’ve met some great folks (and some…ah never mind); and if nothing else it gives me an excuse to drink the Black Lab Stout (cask! *drool*) on a regular basis.





Books Oh-Ten

5 01 2010

A new year, am I right? Time for another reading list. I just finished reading The Maltese Falcon, which, since I began it last week during the way-way-back time of two-thousand-nine, will be cataloged with the books I read in that year.

But enough of the past! It is now the Future!

I’ve got a new copy of Blood Meridian on the night stand, which I intend to crack open right now. Though it won’t actually *crack* because it’s a trade paperback. Which is a nice enough format but doesn’t fit in my pocket and that can be a drag….

Anyway! On with books! There will be some blurb reviews here with this list, and links to longer reviews as the mood strikes me. Feel free to comment with reading recommendations, brilliant and/or scatological insights, harsh ad hominem attacks, or whatever else you like.

Books!

1. Blood Meridian, or, The evening redness in the West – Cormack McCarthy (1985)
Intense, nihilistic brutality rendered in some of the most stunningly beautiful prose you’ve ever read; that’s the best way I can describe this book. I imagine McCarthy presenting this one to the populace and saying, “You like Cowboys & Indians stories? Fine: here’s a Cowboys & Indians story for you. Enjoy it, assholes.” It is not something I would recommend to most people – I don’t even feel comfortable talking about it in so-called polite company, but I’ve definitely benefited for reading it. McCarthy is a master artist and I am already craving more of his writing…

…but not quite yet. Right now I need a lighter fare, something enjoyable on a visceral, and not just an intellectual level. So I am going to re-read:

2. Good Omens – Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett (1990)
A very funny book about the apocalypse, written by two of my favorite authors. The anti-christ is a likable kid, and demons and angels are big chums. Any fan of either Pratchett or Gaiman has probably already read it; for anyone else it can be a good intro to both authors (as was the case for me when I first read it 10 or so years ago).

3. Nightwood – Djuna Barnes (1936) [DBC]
This seminal piece of lesbian fiction contains rich, deeply layered language, some very clever turns of phrase and a few wry-smirk-worthy moments; but having set it down at about 2/3 finished and gone a full weekend without picking it back up, I must admit to myself that I probably don’t intend to finish it. With more philosophizing and ruminating than genuine character building (to say nothing of the plot – which is what it appears to be: nothing), I just can’t bring myself to read any more about the tragic sexual malaise of wealthy world-traveling bohemians (woe!). The best comparison I can make for Nightwood, in my reading experience, is another brilliantly empty novel, Justine (though I was at least able to finish that one).

4. The Sandman – Neil Gaiman (1989-1996)
Having spent a good chunk of my adolescence strenuously fanboying over comic books, I went nearly 20 years without picking one up (NB: ‘fanboy’ is now a verb). A couple years ago I finally read Watchmen, and I enjoyed it enough that it had me wanting to read comics again. Cut to now, and I’ve finished the first volume of the much more massive (but possibly less brilliant) The Sandman. [Click to read reviews of Volumes 1 through 10 as I post them]

5. Novel Without a Name – Duong Thu Huong (1995) [DBC]
With startling images of death and loss, mingled with scenes of love, angst, and people just trying to live their lives, Novel Without a Name is a somber yet clear-eyed look at the US/Vietnam war, seen through the eyes of a communist Vietnamese soldier. This book is banned by the government of Vietnam for it’s unflattering assessment of the realities of communist revolution.

6. Forever War – Joe Haldeman (1974)
[Click for full review]

7. Night Watch – Terry Pratchett (2002)
[Click for full review]

8. Common Sense – Thomas Paine (1776) [DBC]
[Click for full review]

9. Clockers – Richard Price (1992) & Spike Lee (1995, Film)
[Click for full review]

10. The Santaroga Barrier – Frank Herbert (1968)
[Click for full review]

11. Murder With Mirrors – Agatha Christie (1952)
My first foray into the world of Agatha Christie mysteries, I picked this up at a library sale for 50¢ (pocket-size paperbacks FTW!). Once the rather dry table-setting first act was complete and the story started to pick up momentum, Murder With Mirrors (published originally in the UK as They Do It With Mirrors) turned into a pretty entertaining whodunit. Most of the characters are predictably two-dimensional (maybe 1.5-dimensional?) but the star sleuth Miss Marple was a lot of fun. This one proves to me yet again that most famous authors are famous for a reason; I will definitely pick up more Christie soon.

12. The Good Soldier – Ford Madox Ford (1915) [DBC]
I know Ford was important in early 20th century literature, more for his promotion of other writers than for his own writing. This I learned in college when we read DH Lawrence, Joseph Conrad, Jean Rhys, et al. What I had heard about Ford as an author was that he was a pretentious, no-talent hack (but that this is somewhat forgivable given his contributions to literature as a whole). Well, nothing in the first 1/3 of The Good Soldier has yet disabused me of this preconception. So far what I’m reading is another tale of the woes of the idle cosmopolitan rich and their seedy little love triangles (alas!). Yawn, mostly I’m just wishing horrible death on all the characters. The writing isn’t completely terrible and the structure is somewhat interesting (non-linear flashback-driven narrative), so I will finish it; I’ll post here if anything in the rest of the book changes my opinion, but I suspect it will not.

13. Forever Peace – Joe Haldeman (1995)
Not really a sequel to Forever War, this is more of a companion piece, examining separate issues around the idea of hyper-advanced technology as applied to war in the future. Where War was philosophical and highly fabulistic in its scrutiny of the effects of one absurd, endless war, Peace is immediate and gritty, set closer to the present, and vastly more violent. The connections are merely thematic, but both books are excellent, and bookend the ultimately pacifistic sympathies of the author (who is himself a veteran of an absurd, seemingly endless war).

14. Pattern Recognition – William Gibson (2003)

15. The Doors of Perception – Aldous Huxley (1954) [DBC]

16. Monstrous Regiment – Terry Pratchett (2003)
[Click for full review]

17. The Divine Invasion – Philip K. Dick (1981)

18. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas – Hunter S. Thompson (1971)

19. Gateway – Frederik Pohl (1977)
[Click for full review]

20. Strata – Terry Pratchett (1981)

21. A Death in the Family – James Agee (1957) [DBC]

22. Vulcan’s Hammer – Philip K. Dick (1960)

23. Geek Love – Katherine Dunn (1989) [DBC]

24. Slaughterhouse-Five – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1969)

25. We Can Build You – Philip K. Dick (1972)

26. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love – Raymond Carver (1989) [DBC]

27. Nature Girl – Carl Hiaasen (2008)

28. Burmese Days – George Orwell (1934) [DBC]
[Click for full review]

29. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test – Tom Wolfe (1968) [DBC]

30. Jesus’ Son – Denis Johnson (1992) [DBC]





Book Log 2009

3 02 2009

Another new year, another promise to myself that I’m going to blog more book reviews. Last year was something of a dud (you can see my 2008 reading list here), but maybe this year will be — better!

Here’s the 2009 list thus far.

40. The Maltese Falcon – Dashiell Hammett (1930)

39. Concrete Island – J.G. Ballard (1974)
A sort of thought experiment that would make Rod Serling proud, this is an exploration of literary conflict-tropes like man vs society, man vs man, man vs nature, etc. The story is a bit uneven, with a sizable plot shift about halfway through, but it’s still an enjoyable if not wholly satisfying look at what happens if you peel back the protective layers – jobs, routine, family and social structure – within which we live.

38. To Say Nothing of the Dog – Connie Willis (1997)

37. Steppenwolf – Herman Hesse (1927)

36. The Lathe of Heaven – Ursula K. Le Guin (1971) [full review here]

35. Rogue River Journal – John Daniel (2005)

34. Unseen Academicals – Terry Pratchett (2009)

33. Meet My Maker the Mad Molecule – J.P. Donleavy (1964)

32. The Island of Doctor Moreau – H.G. Wells (1896)

31. Legs – William Kennedy (1975)

30. Mother Night – Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (1961)

29. Time Out of Joint – Philip K. Dick (1959)

28. The Ghost Brigades – John Scalzi (2006)

27. Old Man’s War – John Scalzi (2005)

26. The Bear Went Over the Mountain – William Kotzwinkle (1997)

25. Dago Red – John Fante (1940)

24. Royal Flash – George MacDonald Fraser (1970)
The second installment of the Flashman Papers sees our (*ahem*) hero traipsing around Prussia and trying to extract himself from the devious political plots of none other than Otto von Bismarck.  Harry Flashman is a coward, a base philanderer and generally a big asshole – but he is still the protagonist, and Fraser is a good enough writer that you the reader find yourself rooting for him to come through in the end (which, as these books are presented as memoirs written by an octogenarian Flashman, you know he will).  Fun stuff, recommended airplane type reading.

23. Only You Can Save Mankind – Terry Pratchett (1992)
This is the first non-Discworld of Pratchett’s that I’ve read.  It’s a young adult book about the secret world inside video games, and while it’s heavy on the morality (“War is bad”) and light on the humor, it was nonetheless a pleasant read.

22. Lost in a Good Book – Jasper Fforde (2004)

21. The Eyre Affair – Jasper Fforde (2003)

20. The Truth – Terry Pratchett (2000)

19. Thief of Time – Terry Pratchett (2001)

18. The Fifth Elephant – Terry Pratchett (1999)

17. Lucky You – Carl Hiaasen (1998)

16. Lullaby – Chuck Palahniuk (2003)

15. Third From the Sun – Richard Matheson (1954)

14. My Ántonia – Willa Cather (1918)

13. Roger’s Version – John Updike (1986)

12. Ellison Wonderland – Harlan Ellison (1962)
At his best, Harlan Ellison is a wry and devious teller of fantastic stories, dealing mainly with the meanness of the universe and humanity’s struggle against loneliness and oblivion. At his worst, he’s a self-obsessed blowhard who likes to hear himself talk. This short-story collection is a little of both, but leans toward the good Ellison.

11. The Last Continent – Terry Pratchett (1998)
Yes, so as I have mentioned, sometimes I get in the mood to read Discworld, and I don’t want to read anything else. This is my second time reading The Last Continent, and it’s definitely one of the best in the series: it manages to be a great stand-alone book while also furthering the misadventures of the hapless Rincewind the Wizzard (probably my favorite Discworld character). No worries, I’ll get back to a more varied reading list very soon.

10. Carpe Jugulum – Terry Pratchett (1998)
Perhaps the best of the Witches arc that I’ve read yet; normally they’re not my favorite. This one also is our first look at Überwald and it’s denizen vampires.

9. Hogfather – Terry Pratchett (1996)
Sometimes I get on a Pratchett kick; the Discworld books are just so enjoyable. The plot of this one is a mess, but it doesn’t matter. The main characters are the increasingly lovable Death, his granddaughter, and a great villain, the assassin Mister Teatime (don’t mispronounce that).

8. Jingo – Terry Pratchett (1997)
A very funny Discworld book about the absurdity of war. This one is in the City Watch story arc, my personal favorite, and features a memorable appearance by the Patrician.

7. Ironweed – William Kennedy (1984)
Grim, visceral tale of bums in late-30s Albany NY, as told through the eyes of a former big-league ballplayer turned vagrant, as he wends his way through day jobs, family reunions, and drinking jags. And he sees ghosts.

6. Gun, With Occasional Music – Jonathan Lethem (1994)
Lethem’s first book is a sometimes creepy noir detective novel, set in a dystopian future where one’s karma (and very survival) is a commodity tightly controlled by the police state. This one lacks the emotional depth of his later work, yet it’s a fun book with an entertaining cast of characters, including hyper-evolved kangaroo gangsters and a very unsettling infant (more “Family Guy” than “Eraserhead”).

5. Rabbit is Rich – John Updike (1981)
I hadn’t read any Updike in a few years, and when he died I figured it was a good excuse to rejoin the Rabbit series, of which I had read the first two. Rabbit is Rich reminds me how much I love this man’s writing (though The Centaur is still my favorite of his); his characters have incredible depth, and he has the ability to recreate the sense of “everythingness” we all carry around in our heads. Something mundane – e.g. A man who owns a Toyota dealership wants to sleep with a golf buddy’s wife, and meanwhile his son has to marry a woman he knocked up while away at college – is given the heightened importance that would attach were one actually living that man’s life. For some reason the word “fearless” keep coming to mind when I try to pin down what it is I like so much about Updike’s writing; the man was a remarkable talent.

4. A Fall of Moondust – Arthur C. Clarke (1961)
Moon-based thriller about the rescue of some trapped tourists, this choice bit of Clarke pulp is often unintentionally hilarious with its depictions of women (and people in general…but especially women).

3. Empire Falls – Richard Russo (2001)
I enjoyed Russo’s writing and his characterizations are deep and believable, but this real-people-in-a-small-town story becomes too schmaltzy toward the end.

2. Titus Andronicus – William Shakespeare (ca. 1590)
I hadn’t read any Shakespeare in years, and I own a DVD of Julie Taymor’s 1999 film adaptation and wanted to know the story before I watched it. Easily the most graphically violent play I’ve read by Shakespeare, it’s a twisted tale of rape, murder, and dismemberment (much of it on stage).

1. The Unteleported Man – Philip K. Dick (1966)
The flipside of Dr. Futurity in my Ace Double edition. A clever novella about debt, the media, cynical plutarchs and interstellar colonization. More reminiscent of the bleak and gritty Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? than Dick’s more psychedelic work like Galactic Pot-Healer (though according to the wikipedia page, The Unteleported Man was amended by Dick late in his life and renamed Lies, Inc. [a reference to a company in the book] which included 100 extra pages detailing an acid trip)





#9. Oil!

13 04 2008

2008.09 (DBC) – Oil!, Upton Sinclair (1927)

This book was a long slog that ate up a good month’s worth of my reading time; so I will make this review short and sweet.

Oil! is a good book for the first third or so; we get a story about an up-and-coming oilman and his wide-eyed son in the 1910s. It reminded me in a way of Moby Dick, as it mixes human drama with technical trade talk (substituting oil for whaling). So far, so good.

The book then veers into plodding political pedantry, which is somewhat interesting (WWI, emerging Red Scare, corruption in US government) but becomes maddeningly repetitive by about midway through. By the end I was struggling to complete each short chapter, and I didn’t care one whit about whether the characters failed or succeeded, lived or died.

This is the first thing I’ve read by Sinclair, and I’ve always wanted to read The Jungle (which somehow I never read in high school or college). I am now wary and may not bother.





#10. Rendezvous With Rama

13 04 2008

2008.10Rendezvous With Rama, Arthur C. Clarke (1972)

The day Arthur C. Clarke died I decided to re-consume some of his more important works. I went home that night and watched 2001: A Space Odyssey, and the following morning I picked up Rendezvous With Rama. It was one of the first sci fi books I read when I started reading the genre sometime in my early 20s, and it is as good now as ever.

Rama is a story about humanity’s first contact with alien intelligence; and while it shares this general premise with 2001, it only contains a little of the mysticism of that other masterpiece. More so, this is an adventure story: a ship full of astronauts are sent to investigate a spaceship that has entered the solar system. The crew of brilliant and daring men and women enter said spaceship – the titular Rama – and discover it to be a massive cylinder with a self-contained world on the inside (something akin to another legendary sf artifact, the Ringworld, but on a much smaller scale).

Adventure and Science happen, politics is sprinkled on top, interpersonal relationships are given lip-service, and Clarke leaves things very much open at the end (yes, there are sequels, which I haven’t yet read). I wouldn’t call this a young-adult novel, but it is a superb book to give to that young reader in your life, who you’re trying to bend to your tastes. One of the great sci fi books of the last 50 years, it remains relatively unknown (in comparison to the other giant landmarks in the genre), and comes highly recommended by me. Certainly one of the best things Clarke ever published.





#8. The Anatomy of Peace

13 04 2008

2008.08The Anatomy of Peace, The Arbinger Institute (2006)

This is a corporately-produced and -targeted sort of self-help book that I, unsurprisingly, read for work (which is an educational research company). The thrust of the book is to diffuse and prevent conflicts, whether personal, job-related, or international.

There is a frame narrative here, but it’s flat and without style or personality, and only serves as a vehicle for a series of anecdotes about the Middle East, parent-child relationships and dysfunctional workplaces. I was able to take something from the book – the anecdotes are admittedly useful and do posit a series of interesting ideas about the causes of conflict being internal. But overall it felt like a very dry text book, because that’s what it is (there are charts…and diagrams!).

You cannot judge a book by its cover – which in this case is a sort of stylized olive branch (maybe?) – but I think you can judge a book by its author: if a book is authored by an Institute, do not expect to be wowed by literary excellence. Taken for what it is, Anatomy of Peace is useful; but it is not art.





#7. The Stars, Like Dust

22 02 2008

2008.07The Stars, Like Dust, Isaac Asimov (1951)

**** SPOILER ALERT ALERT **** Later in this review I will alert the reader that I will spoiler the ending of this book.

One of Isaac Asimov’s first books (written when he was still the dapper devil you see to your left), The Stars, Like Dust is a story of galactic politics and intrigue, set 10,000 years in the future; it’s a part of the Empire series, and is in the same universe as the Foundation novels (but set long before that series begins).

This is Asimov at his best, when his ideas are clear and exciting, and his characters and dialogue are easily believable enough, in a goofball aw-shucks way. I daresay this book is as good as the best early Foundation and Robot books: a deft mixture of large-scale socio-political themes and individual storylines; idealism and geek appeal; and just the right amount of bang-bang action and machismo to create an almost perfect adventure story. The plot even veers toward the noir at times, with double-crosses heaped upon double-crosses, but never strays far from a strong vein of earnest optimism.

****THE SPOILER ALERT ITSELF**** I am now going to spoiler you, bro!

The ending of The Stars, Like Dust – and I mean the last couple pages of the book – is so silly, so out of place and pointless, that it feels tacked on, like it was added on a whim just prior to the thing going to press. It’s like a Deus Ex Machina that doesn’t need to be there, that does nothing to further the climax or denouement, or any of the rest of the story. There were two or three badly inserted instances of foreshadowing for this device, and then when it hit I just rolled my eyes and said, “Hey, whatever, Asimov is a god and allowed to write hokey stuff if he wants.” Right?

Anyhow it doesn’t take anything away from the actual meat of the book; like I said, there are plenty of things to recommend it, and I’m glad I read it. I’ve been thinking about re-reading the Foundation books; I think I may read the rest of this Empire series first.





#6. The Painted Bird

17 02 2008

2008.06 (DBC) – The Painted Bird, Jerzy Kosinski (1965)

I’m not sure what exactly I expected when I opened The Painted Bird; probably something like an uplifting tale of perseverance about a Jew in Europe during World War II.

Well. It does take place during WWII Europe. And the main character, who is frequently (mis)taken for a Jew or a Gypsy (though we’re never told if he is or isn’t), certainly perseveres after a fashion.

But uplifting? Absolutely not. “Mind-blowingly depressing” would be a more apt description, also maybe “horrific,” “unbearable,” and “disgusting.” And for good measure: “WTF?”

I’m not trying to scare people away though, because this book (Kosinski’s first) is also brilliant and overpowering, and most definitely deserving of ‘Classic’ status. The quick synopsis: “Orphan in Nazi-controlled rural Poland, trying to stay alive.” The narrator is a young boy, whose anti-Nazi activist parents have sent him away to escape potential danger in light of expanding German hegemony in Europe ca. 1940.

His adventures over the next four years are full of the most astounding horrors imaginable (and unimaginable). The narrator maybe would have been better off staying with Mom and Dad to face the coming of the Nazis, for in a true catalog of cruelty, he migrates from one village to the next, encountering primitive rustic peoples whose lives are ruled by ingrained hatred and mistrust. The level of folk superstition and mythology are such that one can at times forget that the book is set in the 20th century and not the Dark Ages.

There are some noteworthy flaws in the text; the symbolism is at times heavy-handed to the point of eye-rolling, but Kosinski more often than not makes it work. The book is an exhausting read, as our narrator is forced to endure a litany of truly hateful and barbaric trials, each more heinous than the last (including but not limited to: graphic scenes of torture, rape, and bestiality). It’s really saying something about the level of savagery shown by nearly every character (including, eventually, the narrator himself), when Stalin and his Red Army are seen as perhaps the most kind-hearted souls.

Kosinski definitely has something to offer the reader who can endure wave after wave of awful scenarios; it’s difficult to read, but somehow at the same time it’s “a real page-turner” as they say. Not exactly brimming with hope, and at times diabolical to the point that I wanted to put it down, The Painted Bird is yet full of very beautiful language and a unique perspective on, as Robert Burns put it, “man’s inhumanity to man.”








Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.