Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1985)

A story of unrequited love that lasts over 50 years, as a man waits (in his own way) for his love who married another.

Book Review:  No one's perfect. Not the author, and certainly not me. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a genius, the inventor of magical realism in which magic is just another part of reality, and there's no difference between the two for the author or the characters in his books. He's one of my top three all-time favorite authors, but somehow I wished that Love in the Time of Cholera was just half as long. What happened? Can there be too much brilliance? The characters received deep description and examination, vivid lives occurred, magic seeped in at the edges. In every paragraph I could see what a brilliant writer Marquez was, but maybe there were just too many paragraphs. The book seemed to drag, to be unnecessarily stretched out. I was ready for it to be over long before the end. Maybe Marquez was trying to show how long Florentino Ariza waited, how long 50 years can be. I feel incredibly disloyal, and I'd love to blame the translator (Edith Grossman), since she wasn't the ever-reliable Gregory Rabassa who translated so many of the other books. But I don't think it was the translation, which seemed serviceable. Was Gabriel Garcia Marquez running out of steam, or was it just me? Although there are moments in the book that made me squirm (the unrequited lover is no saint), it wasn't the plot or any one thing in particular. Maybe Love in the Time of Cholera should have been a novella, a form in which Marquez has excelled. A mere 200 pages would have been fine. This is not to say that there isn't beautiful Marquezian writing throughout -- I'd chop off my hand to be able to write like him (I can type one-handed). But for me, even an endless supply of beautiful writing didn't work. I felt it was like a bad date with someone you love: you still love the person, but you're really ready to do something else already.  I still love Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and I'm kind of fond of Love in the Time of Cholera, but I'm ready to read something else. The title is kind of brilliant, tho. [3.5 Stars]

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (2012)

A wife disappears and her husband soon becomes the main suspect, and so much more.

Book Review:  Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn was so popular in 2012 that the best way to start a conversation while waiting in line, if anyone was willing to look up from their Kindle, was to mention the book. Gone Girl is a solid page-turner by a creative, clever writer.  Almost too clever for the book's own good, perhaps. Despite the increasingly unattractive characters, however, I kept reading and enjoyed the book.  Once Gillian Flynn had her hooks in me, it was too hard to give it up.  Am I different than other readers in that once my curiosity is aroused, I have to know how the book turns out?  I felt I had no choice -- and I'm unsure whether that's Flynn's fault or mine.  I had some personal debates about the fairness of some of the plot twists (that "too clever" thing!), rolled my eyes a couple times, but in the end always came out on the side of Flynn, and thought Gone Girl was well done as a whole. I'm sure other readers debated whether Gillian Flynn's insidious twists were fair or not, but there was no doubt that it caught the popular imagination. Always entertaining, tho I don't think any one could say it was uplifting; kind of destroys one's faith in human nature.  As a reader, it's doubtful I will ever read Gone Girl again, and I'm wondering how it will last over time.  Is it a flash in the pan? So much attention and still a solid read, but is it a sort of one trick pony, a gimmick?  Will Gone Girl become one of those books that become a lifetime favorite? Many readers will never part with their Harry Potter collection, and Stephen King fans tend to have a whole corner of their shelves for his books. The Hunger Games trilogy seems beloved by a whole segment of readers.  But will Gillian Flynn and Gone Girl become that kind of treasured read?  Probably not.  Once you've read the book, been blindsided by the plot twists, reached that curiously unsatisfying ending, and perhaps proposed a couple of better endings yourself -- depending on which character you found most unlikable -- why read it again?  As popular as Gone Girl was, and as great a job as Gillian Flynn did with it, it may well be one of those books that ends up in used bookstores, charity shops, and library book sales.  Maybe it'll be remembered when someone says, "the book I just read was kind of like Gone Girl," but mostly it'll just be gone. Despite the massive hype, I can see Gone Girl as a book that people will not keep on their shelves forever.  But it did make me want to read Gillian Flynn's other books, so as far as that goes Gone Girl was a success. [3.5 Stars]

Candide by Voltaire (1759)

In this satire of optimism and hypocrisy, the young Candide suffers incredible calamities, trials, and disasters on his many adventures around the world, finds his reliance on blind optimism insufficient to address the human suffering he encounters, but doesn't surrender all hope for life.

Book Review:  When discussing misfortune somewhere in the world, near or far, we've all heard someone say "Well, everything happens for a reason."  Well, back in the 18th century, Voltaire, a pretty smart guy from Paris, wrote Candide to give the lie to that philosophy.  He provided the book with one of the most unreliable narrators of all time, wrapped it with dark humor and absurdity, laced it with relentless disasters, catastrophes, and betrayals, made it both comic and cosmic, and ended it as a story of (just barely) Candide's survival.  Cruelty and misery are not strangers in Candide, that is just reality in this best of all possible worlds.  The book ends, Aesopian, with a moral to the story: "We must tend our garden." One of the joys of this book is reflecting on that line as long as the wine, coffee, or your beverage of choice holds out.  The clear conclusion is that everything doesn't always turn out for the best, and sometimes we are most definitely given more, much more, than we can handle.  Thank you, Voltaire.  Candide is a short book; it is literature and philosophy. When completed, you'll have read a classic, you'll have read Voltaire, and you'll be able to say that you're an educated person. [4 Stars]

Every Day by David Levithan (2012)

Every single day, A wakes in someone else's body and enters a different life while trying to live by rules fair to that someone else, until A falls in love with Rhiannon. 

Book Review:  Every Day is a simple book, which is a compliment.  It's a simple plea for tolerance.  David Levithan is saying that none of us is perfect: A is imperfect, and tries to meet the needs of life the best way possible, as we all do. Sometimes people get their feelings hurt or life is made difficult, as we all get our feelings hurt and have difficulties in life.  It's life as we all live it. Rhiannon is imperfect, and struggles to accept the life and love presented by A, as we all might.  She's human.  A becomes impatient with her, as anyone condemned to such a bizarre life while seeing the possibilities of a typical life, understandably would after so long. As in real life, people of color, people with disabilities, older people, all become frustrated and impatient at times.  There are few saints in this world.  A works hard to accept the diverse bodies and lives, and tho finding some bodies or lives more frustrating or less comfortable than others, generally A is positive, and tolerant.  Usually less judgmental than the reader.  And to address the easiest critical "insta-snark," accusing Levithan of "insta-love": if any creature would desperately need love, a human connection, would hysterically reach for any chance of warmth, would it not be someone like A?  A has no family, no home, nothing but a soul, and having nothing, needs love more than anyone.  If anyone is ready for "insta-love," it is A.  Every Day is considered a YA book, and maybe its bigger message is lost on those readers who can only compare the story against their own young lives.  For a book with a simple message: let's accept each other as best we can, imperfect as we are, and try for a little human warmth and love in our short lives, I'm surprised at the lack of tolerance for this book.  It's not War & Peace, it's a request to live and let live, and maybe find a little love along the way.  One last note: I'm aware there's a sequel to Every Day, but I'm not sure whether I'll read it, since Levithan's point seems to be made and I'm not sure what more there is to be gained by a repetition of lessons.  I could (easily!) be wrong. [4 Stars]

Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow (1975)

A middle aged author in an apparent mid-life crisis remembers his friend, a dead poet, and tries to cope with the harassment of a minor mob figure. 

Book Review:  Some days you just feel like an idiot.  There are good and bad writers, and there are good and bad readers.  I was a bad reader of Humboldt's Gift.  Saul Bellow is a famous and lauded writer: he won the Nobel and Humboldt's Gift won the Pulitzer.  This book has loads of ideas, references, allusions, and what must be brilliance.  I even read up on the poet Delmore Schwartz (who is Humboldt in the book).  It wasn't the occasional whiff of bigotry, I just didn't care about the main character, who continually seemed to make stupid and unkind decisions. And Bellow didn't show me why such a smart guy should make such bad decisions. Should I care about such a person?  Why turn the page when I don't care what happens?  It's not so much that I didn't like the character.  I've read many books with unlikable characters, and kept reading because I wanted to know what happened, what choices they made; sometimes I wanted them to get their just desserts. But here it was apathy.  No writer should be trying to create apathy -- there's an overabundance already.  What was the point, to attack his wife?Could I not relate to the time and place? I've been to the Shire and Westeros, but couldn't get New York?  I expected to like Humboldt's Gift, but didn't, and the main character didn't interest me. I did turn all 487 pages, but after all those words the resolution did not seem revelatory.  I don't know whether I failed to connect with the book or with Saul Bellow.  I have to resign myself: for this book I was a bad reader.  And I'm still deciding whether to try again. [3 Stars]

Private Demons - The Life of Shirley Jackson by Judy Oppenheimer (1988)

A biography of Shirley Jackson (1916-65), the author of "The Lottery" and The Haunting of Hill House.

Book Review:  The lives of authors aren't always that interesting, but Private Demons was definitely interesting, and Shirley Jackson's life was definitely not what I expected.  Shirley Jackson is best known for writing "The Lottery," one of the most mystifying and anthologized American short stories, and The Haunting of Hill House, as well as other novels.  Private Demons is a well written and quick reading biography that gives a complete history of Jackson's short life, as well as numerous key insights into her writing.  Not that her writing was literally autobiographical, but reading the facts of her life opens up the reader's understanding of her fiction.  As Judy Oppenheimer notes about Jackson: "No longer was she simply transcribing from reality ... now she was becoming adept at taking the bare bones of reality and giving them a twist, infusing them with some of the fears and horrors and distortions swirling around in her own mind."  Jackson's family took an immense amount of her time: she was not a solitary recluse pounding away at a typewriter in a garret.  It's a wonder she wrote at all.  She was surrounded by her four children, who both informed and influenced her writing.  She had a lifelong difficult relationship with her mother.  Most challenging, however, was her husband, who Jackson credited with enabling her to publish, but readers will make their own conclusions about his complex effect on her writing. Jackson and her family lived in North Bennington, Vermont, and her husband taught at Bennington College. The town was a major element in some of her writing, including the novel Hangsaman, which was set at the College (as was Donna Tartt's novel The Secret History; Tartt attended Bennington College). Private Demons is an excellent and informative biography, which I strongly recommend to any Shirley Jackson fans -- there are many clues to her writing within, tho I'd caution anyone from taking it all too literally.  One caveat: although the book seems open and uncensored, it was written with the assistance of Jackson's four children, and I can't speak to whether that had any limiting influences on the author. [5 Stars]

Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me by Richard Farina (1966)

A hip college student tries to avoid involvement in anything meaningful while living a life of hedonistic extremes.

Book Review:  What a long, strange trip it's been.  Richard Farina, a writer, musician, and songwriter, was killed in a motorcycle accident two days after the publication of this, his only novel, which lends an eerie reality to the frequent invocations of death (Thanatos) in the text.  Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me, hilarious as it's meant to be, is an often misunderstood book.  Set in 1958 but with overtones of the '60s, the main character, Gnossos Pappadopoulis, a beatnik, hipster, proto-hippie, college student, and our deeply flawed anti-hero, refuses to conform to the rules of society: he is a bully, thief, and seducer. Seriously unreliable, he lives his life by a code of non-involvement, "exemption," in which he maintains his cool at all costs and refuses responsibility for his actions. Except he doesn't: there are consequences for this life. Although Gnossos is vengeful and willfully oblivious to the effect his actions (often fueled by drugs) have on others (generally those doing him a favor), he later feels guilt for these acts, and in a variant on the laws of physics, his willful acts are paid back doublefold by whatever gods there be.  In a darkly humorous and Nabokovian way he's charming; you might not want him for a friend, but you'd want to know him, from a distance perhaps. He's not for squares -- sex and drugs abound.  As with J.P. Donleavy's Ginger Man, the reader feels some sympathy for Gnossos' painful inability to conform. But while the reader may ponder the figurative bumps and bruises, Richard Farina has galloped pages ahead and Gnossos is now miles away, until his exempt status is threatened by love and he's drawn into the edges of campus insurrection.  The story is a wild ride, at times reminiscent of Thomas Pynchon, who knew Farina in college and wrote the introduction, and like Pynchon, the story is a little deeper than expected if you take the time to read it without prejudice.  The writing is notable for the Whitmanesque lists attempting to encapsulate the times.  The ending is unexpected but just right for the excellent Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me.  Three final notes: (1) just as I feel Catcher in the Rye is best first read while in one's teens, this may be best first read before age 25 or so; (2) for those who will wonder, because it comes up, paregoric is a tincture of opium, apparently legal at the time; (3) I think many of the critics of this book either didn't catch the "pay the piper" theme, or didn't read to the end, which of course is typical of critics. [4 Stars]

A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf (1928)

A Room of One's Own is Virginia Woolf's discussion of women and fiction.

Book Review:  One of the greatest women who ever wrote, writing about women writers -- it doesn't get any better than this.  Virginia Woolf's central argument about women and fiction is economic and classist.  It's tempting to look at A Room of One's Own as dated when 12 of the top 15 books on the NYT's fiction best sellers list (13 Mar 16) are by women (wouldn't she be amazed?), but this book still needs to be read. It contains an important historical viewpoint and it's inspirational. Even from another time she understands the difficulty, as does anyone who's tried it, of working a full time job and coming home and trying to write anything of worth. She's also a big Emily Bronte fan, so that's good. But rather than say why I like it, I'm just going to let Woolf speak for herself.  Here are some of her provocative thoughts in A Room of One's Own: she notes that genius is not found among women or the working class (although genius "of a sort" must have existed there), because they have to work; only the wealthy can afford to be writers, but even the daughters of the wealthy had their written work met with hostility (cf. the indifference accorded working class men (Keats) who succeeded in writing); she accords primacy to Aphra Behn, who I'd not heard of before reading this book; she notes that Charlotte Bronte had more genius than Jane Austen (go Charlotte!), but since Bronte wrote from anger or indignation rather than from her genius, Austen was the superior writer (sorry, Charlotte); she notes that only Austen and Emily Bronte had the integrity to write as women write, not as men write, to write what they valued, despite the lack of models; that a woman should write as a woman, but as a woman who has forgotten that she is a woman; that women and men each have male and female aspects to their minds, and the fully developed mind does not think "specially or separately" of sex, the androgynous mind transmits emotion without impediment, is naturally creative and undivided, and is the superior mind for a writer; it is fatal for any one who writes to think of their sex; the importance of writing about female friendships, rather than solely about women in relation to men (still true today!);  that men are no longer the opposing faction and there is no need to rail against them; intellectual freedom depends on material things.  At the end of A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf notes some positive developments of the time: there have been two women's colleges, and married women have been able to own property, for a period of time, women have the vote, "most" professions are now open to women, and so "the excuse of lack of opportunity, training, encouragement, leisure and money no longer holds good" (tho she feels that women should have fewer children than previously).  All this in 1928.  If you are surprised, angered, encouraged, or intrigued, A Room of One's Own is the book for you. [4 Stars]

The Sundial by Shirley Jackson (1958)

After a family funeral, the eccentric Aunt Fanny has a vision of end times, which sends the family and others into both disbelief and preparation.

Book Review:  Some believe that Shirley Jackson wrote directly from her unconscious, so it may not be surprising that certain elements re-occur in her books.  The Sundial has so many Shirley Jackson elements, that it's a game to identify bits from this one in her other books (past & future): the lost in the woods scene from Hangsaman, the mansion as character from Castle and Hill House, the dialog about a loving family from Castle, the backbiting community from The Road Through the Wall, etc.  The Sundial has the usual elements, but the story doesn't quite hold together and it's not her best (tho it would be a triumph for many authors); I'd guess it's not anyone's favorite Shirley Jackson novel. Here Jackson shares her contempt for a broad swath of the human race and indicts people who dream that a better world will make them better people, rather than trying to be better people in this world. Jackson views the idea of living for eternity with these people as Hell.  It's all explained by Fancy in the book: "Like I keep trying to tell you, it doesn't matter which world you're in." The Sundial is certainly well-written and filled with a sharp, snarky, biting, pointed, dry humor that never misses its mark.  At some level, Jackson seems to have seen herself as the main character of Mrs. Halloran, without whom there is no hope whatsoever.  If you like Shirley Jackson you need to read The Sundial and you'll enjoy it, if you don't, you won't.  The characters aren't quite as compelling, the plot not as driven, the movement a little hazy, compared to her other books.  I always enjoy Jackson, and I enjoyed The Sundial, but it's not one of her top three, and won't make any converts of non-believers. And now I'm feeling guilty for being too tough since I really did like it ... . [3.5 Stars]

The Blue Flower by Penelope Fitzgerald (1995)

In 18th century Germany, a young philosophy student who will later become famous as Novalis, falls for a plain and simple 12-year-old girl.

Book Review:  Oh, no!  And mea culpa.  Penelope Fitzgerald is a good writer. She's won the Booker prize, and The Blue Flower won the National Book Critics Circle Award.  But the book just didn't welcome me in, and try as I might I couldn't find a key to open the door.  I read it all, but it just seemed opaque, and the characters were uninteresting.  The writing was fine and the research was obviously extensive. But beyond an apparent desire to write a historical novel, I'm just not sure what Fitzgerald was doing in The Blue Flower; part of the problem may be that I'm unfamiliar with the main character, who becomes the poet Novalis. The young Novalis is a philosopher living his life high in the air without regard to reality, living according to abstract philosophical precepts rather than the quotidian life that stands before him. Fitzgerald writes of the everyday details and facts of life and work, amply provided by her meticulous research. Real people with real lives that start before Novalis's entrance and continue after his departure seem to be the real characters and real story of The Blue Flower, that Novalis barely notices, and so they also get not quite enough of the story from the author.  Fitzgerald even provides an interesting conversation between Novalis and a female character about novel writing, in which Novalis comes off second best.  How can Novalis become a writer when he can't see life?  The main character's love interest, Sophie, a child, did not seem interesting or lovely the way Nabokov at least made Lolita seem like an interesting and lovely child. This is a case when I feel like a bad reader for finding The Blue Flower only barely interesting, tho readable, as even a bad pizza is okay.  A.S. Byatt likes it, and I like A.S. Byatt.  So I can only conclude that I'm a bad reader. Coincidentally, after I read this I read Shosha by I.B. Singer, which also had a child/woman as the main character's love interest.  By contrast, Shosha steals every page she's on, and then stole my heart.  But perhaps that's the point: Singer's character sees Shosha as the person she is; Novalis never sees Sophie for herself. This hasn't put me off Penelope Fitzgerald, and I'll look for Offshore, which won the Booker prize in 1979.  This may well be a good book, it's just too subtle for me.  Again, mea culpa. [3 Stars]

Hollywood by Charles Bukowski (1989)

An alcoholic author is hired to write a Hollywood screenplay.

Book Review:  Charles Bukowski seemed able to turn everything that happened in his life into writing, and never seemed to leave leftovers. Hollywood is the story of Henry Chinaski writing a screenplay and watching the movie get made, and not made, and made again.  If you know Charles Bukowski wrote the script for the movie Barfly, you know the rest.  There's lots of drinking, not as much sex (Bukowski was married at the time), phonies, egos, money, famous people. Chinaski is a little more mellow here, but he's also little older. The novel is a roman a clef (keys are easily found on Google), but many names aren't too difficult to decipher: an American director named Frances Ford Lopalla, a French director named Jon-Luc Modard, a German director named Wenner Zergog, you get the drift.  At times it seemed that Bukowski was writing on autopilot, reporting the events as they happened. Only, just like talking with a friend of yours out on the stoop, you suspect that maybe he's embellishing the stories to make them just a little bit better. Except given this is the fantasy land that is Hollywood, maybe it all is just straight-up reportage.  And every page is written with that wide-eyed Bukowski charm, not quite believing what's happening even as he barrels along. One of the more interesting twists of the book is to see Bukowski, with his disdain for the pretensions and gaudy trappings of the rich, learn to accept and even expect his special treatment as a big shot and his newly wealthy lifestyle, even buying a house and a BMW.  All that is a far cry, tho well-deserved, from the days of Post Office.  Hollywood isn't the best of Charles Bukowski, but if you've liked his other books you'll certainly like this one too, especially if you like picking out the real-life characters. And it's a quick read.  And you'll like the last page. [3 Stars]

Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote (1958)

The portrait of  charming and reckless Holly Golightly, who, not without fear, nevertheless charges headlong and headstrong into life and takes it for all she's worth.

Book Review:  As with most people, having first seen the movie, the novella of Breakfast at Tiffany's (and Three Stories) comes as a bucket of cold water to the face. Much grittier, more real world, rougher around the edges -- that's both the novella (111 pp.) and Holly Golightly herself.  The book captures the theme of the story that the movie did not.  Here Holly is a wild animal who must be free, she cannot be tied or caged or limited -- it terrifies her.  She is a strong woman who makes her own way by her own means at her own costs.  If I can use the cliche, she's a survivor.  All of that comes, for her, with a certain measure of loneliness and depression ("the mean reds" in the book).  Holly is mercurial, quirky, but always interesting, and along with the unrequited narrator, we fall in love with her.  Holly's standards are not his (and perhaps not ours), but they are hers and she lives by them, clutching what bits of love and memory she can.  Breakfast at Tiffany's is really just a description of a period when Holly and the narrator's lives overlapped, but that simple portrait is enough to create the iconic, archetypal character.  Although the Hollywood version is sanitized, after reading the book I'm impressed at how much Audrey Hepburn managed to capture of Holly, and would love to have been able to see her actually portray the Holly in the book. Breakfast at Tiffany's is an excellent story.  The book also contains three other stories: a tale of love in Haiti, the revelation of a prisoner who has a brief glimpse of the life he had given up on, and the touching Christmas story of a young child and his much older friend who likes to bake fruitcakes. All three stories are well written and worthwhile, but none had the effect of Breakfast at Tiffany's, they were just a generous additional helping of Truman Capote's excellent writing. [4 Stars]

The Essential Etheridge Knight by Etheridge Knight (1986)

Etheridge Knight (1931-91) was a black American poet.  He was seriously wounded in Korea, became an addict, was sent to prison for armed robbery, and there started writing poems.

Poetry Review:  None of the facts given above are reasons to read the poetry in The Essential Etheridge Knight.  The reason to read his poetry are the poems, not his history.  Although he won the American Book Award, he's a little too street to be in the 2003 Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry edited by Jahan Ramazani.  Even with two volumes, there's no room for Etheridge Knight, he's not been anointed by the academics as one of them. Instead, he's himself.  A man of the streets, a black man in 60's America, a soldier, a junkie, an inmate, and yes, a poet.  Torn between what he wants to do and what he has to do, Knight is well aware of the role of the black American poet.  He writes hard, sharp metaphors, describing Malcolm X: "The sun came ... spitting fire from his lips."  Emotion drives Knight's poems, and passion drives the lack of structure, the rage and tenderness, the seemingly random use of rhyme.  But his rhymes aren't random, they fit an oral tradition of poetry that escapes the paper prison of the page (there are clips on YouTube of Etheridge Knight reciting these poems). Hear his anger and love (especially one called Ilu, the Talking Drum -- read it aloud, you'll be glad you did). Etheridge Knight's poems include folk tales, bigger than life mythic characters who beat the system (even if only temporarily), and put it over on society.  He writes like a big man, with big feelings and big passions. His poems are made of family and lovers, the healing, saving power of love over pain.  As did Richard Wright, Etheridge Knight likes to use the haiku form, tho he's a little freer with it than Wright was.  Here's a couple:

   The wire fence is tall.
   The lights in the prison barracks
   Flick off, one by one.

   A blue pick/up truck
   Roars past; Sun shines on shotgun
   Leering in window

He's the inheritor of the legacy of (and writes poems for) Langston Hughes and Gwendolyn Brooks, and I hate that he's been forgotten.  He's that cliche of the vulnerable tough guy, but while reading these poems you'll never think it's a cliche.  The poems in The Essential Etheridge Knight embody humor, drugs, sex, poverty, black revolution, love, and most of all his life.  This is not the poetry you're supposed to read, it's the poetry you need to read. [5 Stars]

The Finishing School by Muriel Spark (2004)

A creative writing teacher (and frustrated novelist) at a marginal finishing school becomes obsessed with a 17-year-old student, who is writing a soon-to-be-published novel.

Book Review:  I'm not ashamed to say that I love Muriel Spark and will read anything she writes, including her shopping lists. The Finishing School was Muriel Spark's final novel and, sadly, not her best. As with all her books, the plot is a switch from previous books, but here the characters are thinly developed, the story line limited, and there is little happening below the surface.  In my worship of Spark, I can still appreciate The Finishing School for its clever sentences and pointed humor, e.g., Nina's lessons on Ascot and the U.N.  A Muriel Spark novel is to be enjoyed in the moment, to be impressed with her sharp wit and keen observation.  Almost as if the story is beside the point, simply a vehicle to display her immense skills.  But here she seems tired, as if she no longer had the energy to develop the story as she wanted to write it.  There is a jealous older writer and a confident younger novelist, a wife, sex partners, quirky other students, Catholicism (as usual).  I can see the skeleton of the planned book, of characters she would have made more rounded and the plot lines she would have expanded, but there's just not enough here to make this a first class book, especially a first class Spark book. Cleverness, acuity, intelligence, wit: that is what her books are made of; she must have been an amazing person.  At 181 pages I had no difficulty completing this book, I'm glad I read it, and I'd read it again simply because I enjoy bathing in her writing.  But my carefully considered advice is to skip The Finishing School for now.  If you want to read Muriel Spark, first read A Far Cry from Kensington, The Comforters, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, The Girls of Slender Means, The Driver's Seat.  If you enjoy those, go on to read her other books.  If having read the majority of her books you find yourself, like me, a Muriel Spark completist, then come back and read The Finishing School.  If you do I hope, like me, you will enjoy it for the best of what she did, and not grieve about what she failed to do. [3 Stars]

My Book Review Rating System

System? I don't need your stinkin' system! Except, sorry, I really do and here it is. I really enjoy embracing the chaos, but at some point order can be useful also. And don't worry, my system is not all that systematic, and only a hair removed from chaos anyway.

For the book reviews on this blog I use a five star system, similar to Goodreads. I try to use half-stars only occasionally in my book reviews, because I enjoy being forced to think hard about it and try to fit a book in at one level or the other without resorting to the "crutch" of a half-star. I'm certainly not ruling out an expanded use of half-stars at some point (sometimes we all need crutches), it's just something I'm trying to do at the moment. If it doesn't work, it'll change. So 'nuff said, here's the star system:

1 Star - Hated it. Utterly without redeeming value. Never given a 1 Star review and hope I never will.

2 Stars - Didn't like it, but some value to be gained or something of interest. Others will like it more.

3 Stars - A good book, glad I read it, but not a completely exceptional read. This is the biggest, and an extremely broad, category. Many books will fit here. Most of my book reviews should be 3 Stars.

4 Stars - Truly enjoyed it. An exceptional book with rare and superior qualities, but some flaws.

5 Stars - A classic. Enjoyable, challenging, enlightening. Made an emotional and intellectual connection, with only the most minor flaws.

As noted, this system tilts toward the middle in what should be a classic bell curve, except I hope not to read any 1 Star books and to read many 5 Star books. The 3 Stars books range from "just barely liked it" to "wow, this was almost great." I'm also completely aware of the subjectivity of all this, but that's the name of the game. On any given day my opinion of a book can change -- maybe I do need those half-stars! But I also rate books compared to other books of the author and genre. To see my discussion on that, please see my post on "book review relativity."

Last Exit to Brooklyn by Hubert Selby Jr. (1964)

Banned in Britain when first published, here are six tales of junkies, drag queens, prostitutes, and delinquents in WWII Brooklyn.

Book Review:  Last Exit to Brooklyn is a terrible book; terrible in the sense of causing terror in its vision of hell here on earth. Make no mistake, Last Exit is bleak, despairing, hopeless. Hubert Selby's central message seems to be that all is pointless at best, and brutal and cruel otherwise, at a whole new existential level. Violence, meaningless, random, extreme violence is the norm, and never far from the surface. Most troubling is the easy acceptance of violence as a natural part of life. In conjunction with the violence is anger, hatred born of anger and fear, and more anger. And if you've lasted this far, for all of that Last Exit to Brooklyn is a brilliant, painful, book. Brilliant in its evocation of this seedy, underworld, and goes deep within the characters, their moments and thoughts, observations and small broken dreams. The book consists of six stories, sometimes with shared characters weaving in and out of the stories. In one story a solider is brutally beaten. That's the story. In another, a gay transvestite is stabbed for no purpose, then goes to a party with drugs, sex, and jazz -- the party is brilliantly executed as it goes on for pages; the reader is drawn into it without the ability to resist. In perhaps the central story, a pretty girl who wants only money, and never seeks love, pursues her vision of life to an apocalyptic ending. The longest story (103 pp.), perhaps a novella, tells of a minor union official during a strike realizing that he's gay -- only it's so much more than that, as all the stories are so much more than their plots. The last story tells of the residents of a low income housing project. It is the only story with sympathetic characters, and if you have a heart, this story will break it. The stories are full of domestic abuse, neglected children, cruelty to those they should love. So much pain, emotional and physical. Last Exit to Brooklyn is a very different Brooklyn from today; the stories are generally written about the WWII years. The stories are written in a very visual stream of consciousness -- Virginia Woolf in a leather jacket hyped up on bennies and ready to break your nose. Hubert Selby is creative with his punctuation (no apostrophes or quotation marks) and invents words to approximate speech: "not ta botha witha" means "not to bother with her," (I think). Not to worry, Selby's style of writing is easy to absorb. An interesting thing I noticed was that the straight men in the book seem to have no inner life, unlike the women and gay men. One more thing: this is not a book for young people. There is graphic sex, lots of drug use, emotionally difficult passages. And it's likely to make you give up all hope for humanity. But if you can can get through all that to get a glimpse of the gritty lives of those who have no lives, an almost hyper-realism, it's an amazing book. (For those who care about such things, my used copy had a list price of $1.95 on the cover!) [5 Stars]

Shosha by Isaac Bashevis Singer (1978)

As the Warsaw Jews await the arrival of the German army, a young writer considers his alternatives, and his childhood sweetheart who remains a child.

Book Review:  Isaac Bashevis Singer won the Nobel the year Shosha was published, and writes of a rich, passionate world few of us could ever know. There is good and evil, but no one is wholly one or the other (except perhaps Shosha, herself).  The reader may not like the main character, I don't think he likes himself, but life isn't always pretty and neat, and there really is evil and not enough good. In Shosha we get a peek into this different time, and the vagaries of life where there are no perfect people. It's fascinating. Set in Warsaw in the months before Hitler's troops arrived, when families lived with the knowledge that they would die. We see what it is to live with the knowledge of death marching closer, and how the various characters react. It's unimaginable, except by Singer. What would you do if you were dirt poor and knew that soldiers were coming to kill you and there were few chances for escape? The characters are richly drawn, and I found the character of Shosha to be unforgettable. Shosha doesn't necessarily inhabit a lot pages in the novel, but every moment she appears shows her brighter than the scholars and better than the saints, and she is the true center of the book. A quick read and glimpse of another world and time. [4 Stars]

Ted Hughes - The Unauthorised Life by Jonathan Bate (2015)

A biography of English poet Ted Hughes (1930-98).

Book Review:  Fair play Jonathan Bate. Ted Hughes: The Unauthorised Life is an excellent, even-handed, and thorough rendition of the Poet Laureate's life and times. A balanced, equitable, and nuanced account, Bate isn't afraid to probe Hughes' psychology as well as his past. The author makes clear in stunning detail the enormous effect that Sylvia Plath's life and death had on the whole of his life and work, and how much of himself and his work Hughes lost due to a lifetime of amorous adventures. The Ted Hughes that Bate shows us in The Unauthorised Life was as flawed a person as he was talented a poet. It's long, but didn't drag for me. Not only are there many new (to me) facts about his life, but I also gained a greater appreciation for Hughes' poetry, which I didn't expect from a biography. Now I must reread Crow and seek out his version of Ovid. I've heard inklings that the estate is unhappy with Ted Hughes: The Unauthorised Life (hence the title, I suppose), but having read it, Jonathan Bate certainly came across as a fair and just reporter, while the executors have to be protective of their bread and butter, talented and imperfect as it was. [4 Stars]

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (1890)

A handsome young man sells his soul for eternal youth and beauty, and lives a life of "art for art's sake."

Book Review:  If only he hadn't spent so much time talking and enjoying life, think how many novels Wilde might have written! The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde's only novel, is a brilliant book of ideas, as if you're at a party with some of the sharpest wits around. Not as scandalous today as it was when written (tho it helped ruin Wilde's life). Most of Dorian's sins are only alluded to, tho they're easily inferred; he is evil or cruel at worst, and unkind or careless at best. Either way he is always beautiful and mostly charming. The book is saturated with Oscar Wilde, you always know who you're reading. His wonderful witticisms are all over The Picture of Dorian Gray, and at one time or another almost every character speaks like Oscar Wilde (or is given at least one of his delicious lines). Can I say scintillating? I do. Far be it from me to second-guess Wilde, but I wish Sibyl Vane's role could have been more developed. I wonder with which of the characters Wilde most identified? Lord Henry sounds most like Wilde with his epigrams and wit, but he mostly watches from afar (like a writer?). The painter Hallward seems most unlike Wilde, but he is an artist, is passionate, and adores the beautiful Dorian. But finally, maybe Wilde saw himself as, or at least hoped that he might be, the title character. No shrinking violet that Oscar, he's all of them. [5 Stars]

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (1955)

Humbert Humbert falls in lust with his landlady's 12-year old daughter, and nothing will be the same for anyone again.

Book Review:  Lolita is a beautifully written novel about the ugliest of subjects. Vladimir Nabokov dares to go where few have, and makes us think thoughts we don't want to consider while our emotions are churning. Even as we see Lolita's unhappiness and Humbert's coercion, Nabokov charms us, while breaking taboos and forcing us outside our comfortable and cultural confines. No comfort zones here. Humbert regrets his actions even while ecstatically exulting in them, and rarely thinks of Lolita's needs until the end of the book when he finally puts her life above his own. In Lolita, one is pushed into holding two conflicting ideas simultaneously, let the cognitive dissonance begin! The grace of Nabokov's language is inevitably saturated with the seediness of the content, like an elegant meal in a cheap motel room. Although the writing in Lolita is beautiful, the vocabulary is periodically challenging (learned some new words with nowhere to use them) and there are numerous lines in French -- for those who don't read French the choice is to stop and Google or ignore them and keep on reading. For me it was mostly the latter. I want to be clear: if you think Lolita condones, validates, or enjoys pedophilia, you're reading it wrong. And is there some interpretive level in which Lolita, the girl, is gauche, immature new world America, being molested by erudite, decadent old world Europe as personified by Humbert (shades of Henry James)? For those interested see "Nabokov in America" by Robert Roper for Nabokov's impressions of America while traveling the country. After reading, I wondered if any of today's great authors would dare take on other universally condemned issues of our time in like manner. Lolita was translated by Michael Scammel, with the assistance of the author. And apologies to the designer, but I really hated the cover and refused to read it in public; I would have bought any other cover of Lolita if I'd had a choice. [5 Stars]

The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith (2013)

Everything is going wrong for detective Cormoran Strike, until a supermodel falls to her death and he's hired to solve the case.

Book Review:  We have many reasons to thank J.K. Rowling: saving books, reading, and literacy for a start. And now we can thank her for the first book in a great new detective series, The Cuckoo's Calling. Rowling has created an intriguing and very English version of the (somewhat) hard boiled detective novel; at least Cormoran Strike looks as if he should be a tough guy detective. Well situated in time and place, her detective is to London what Philip Marlowe was to L.A. Although the pacing in The Cuckoo's Calling is deliberate and there is a certain stretch where little seems to happen, her vivid, detailed descriptions and solid character development kept me reading relentlessly. And speaking of characters, Strike's accidental secretary (he literally runs into her!), Robin, promises to be one of the most irresistible people Rowling has created -- and that's saying something. I'm guessing as the first book in a series there was some table setting going on in The Cuckoo's Calling, so I very much look forward to the next book as even better, and this one was an irresistibly enjoyable read. [3.5 Stars]

The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner by James Hogg (1824)

A mysterious figure leads a young Scottish man to commit a serious of heinous acts.

Book Review:  The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner is the kind of book found on a high shelf, hidden by shadow, in a used-book store on a back street of a small town north of Edinburgh. Published anonymously by James Hogg in 1824, largely set in the first decade of the 18th century, it involves a young man who learns that he is one of the "elect," that he is saved no matter his actions. His story is told twice, by two unreliable narrators, the first an "objective third person" Editor, and the other by the young man himself. It is a tale of religion, murder, 18th century Scotland, psychology, doppelganger, and the supernatural. If those words sound interesting, you'll probably like Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner. Poe is the most similar author I could think of (and their lives overlapped). To be fair, although I enjoyed the book and was never a danger of quitting, it wasn't quite the fast and exciting read it may sound. There are number of archaisms (that 1824 thing), which slowed me down at times, and bits of the book are in Scottish dialect, which wasn't usually difficult, but there was the occasional word for which I had no clue, despite my upbringing. My edition had a Scottish glossary in the back, but it could have been three times longer for me. It also had helpful explanatory notes in the back, keyed to pages, but not footnoted in the text. Private Memoirs and Confessions includes numerous conversations about Calvinism, which I was unfamiliar with (tho I learned a lot), but I'm guessing was much more widely known at the time and place the book was written. My edition (Canongate, Edinburgh, 2008) also had a preface by Ian Rankin, an Introduction by David Groves, and an Afterword by Andre Gide (apparently from 1947) -- all enthusiastic fans. According to the Introduction, Private Memoirs and Confessions did not have a warm reception when published, as it was seen as an attack on religion. I think that it's quite clearly an attack on religious fanaticism or religion taken to extremes, rather than a criticism of religion itself. James Hogg does not seem to believe that religion justifies murder, an issue we still grapple with today. It may have been an influence on another Scottish writer looking at the duality of good and evil in Jekyll and Hyde. To me it was a worthy read based on the author's reach, the unique nature of it all, and the world I completely inhabited while reading. [4 Stars]

The Comforters by Muriel Spark (1957)

Jewel smuggling, religion, disembodied voices, oddball cults, and an oddly ambiguous set of events that is completely believable. 

Book Review:  Muriel Spark is a treasure. Each of her books is different, except they all overflow with wit, cheddar sharp observation, and a brilliantly clever, active intellect that entertains and astonishes. Her books flow so smoothly that the reader sometimes glides right over what would be the high point of many a writer's page. The Comforters was Muriel Spark's first novel and laid the template for the 21 short novels to come (tho no two plots are alike). Every page has at least one line to make the reader sit back and marvel. The plot is composed of many characters (another Muriel Spark characteristic) all of whom have part of the story, but not the whole of it. The characters come and go, seemingly at random, involved in gem smuggling, religious conversions, disembodied voices, and much more, but don't get too hung up on any of it -- Spark doesn't. The Comforters is British, charming, and lets us laugh wryly at the characters even while rooting them on. She doesn't get into the gutter and narrates at a comfortable remove; while not reluctant to recognize the world as it is, Spark in The Comforters doesn't let reality stand in the way of a good story. In fact, one of the characters believes that she might be in a novel herself (cf. the movie Stranger than Fiction). If you come across a Muriel Spark novel, read it. It won't take long and you may just fall in love. [4 Stars]

The Stranger by Albert Camus (1942)

A diffident, unexceptional man is involved in a senseless murder in Algeria.

Book Review:  The Stranger is a short philosophical novel, that happily lives in the space between puzzling and thought provoking. This may be a litmus test for readers, as at times I wondered if I was reading ideas into the book that weren't there. For example, at the end when M. is contemplating eternity, I felt he was perhaps, maybe, kind of, sort of, in a way wishing that he'd been more active in defending himself, so as to not find himself in that position. But by the last paragraph that thought seems to have vanished.  One element of the book is clearly M's passivity. And M's thoughts periodically return to his mother throughout the book -- this seems to undercut Camus' existential intent. Being an existential novel, there is some sense that The Stranger is a blank canvas on which readers can project their own variously inculcated moral, ethical, and cultural values that the book rejects.  I could write a book of the same size to discuss all the ideas contained in here. Interestingly, the book was not as it had been often described to me before I read it -- the legend differed from the reality. I read the Matthew Ward "Americanized" translation, which he justifies in that apparently Camus said he used an "American method" in writing The Stranger. Unable to read French, I'll go along with him except for one important word in the context of the novel: "Maman," which is apparently French and a child's word for "mother." I would not have known that without reading the initial Note, but why isn't it translated? That's the job. A child's word for mother varies, is it mum, mummy, mama, mommy, mom, or something else?  It means nothing to me in French, less useful even than "mother."  Other than that I generally found the translation readable.  To get even more from this, I'm thinking of reading Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus for more background.  The Stranger is astonishing, both in how subtle and quiet it is, and how it can instantly stir a thousand thoughts.  And it's a quick and easy way to read a genuine classic. [4 Stars]

The Casual Vacancy by J. K. Rowling (2012)

When a member of a small town parish council dies, a series of events is set in motion that exposes conflicts between parents and children, rich and poor, teachers and students, husbands and wives, resident and non-resident. 

Book Review:  If this book wasn't written by J.K. Rowling, it would be acknowledged as a masterpiece. Instead it's compared to Harry Potter, a murder mystery, or expected to be a thrill ride, and it's none of those. Because of who she is, Rowling never got a fair shake with lazy readers and petty critics for her first novel written for adults. The Casual Vacancy is an amazingly well-written novel that touches the heart and mind.  It's a wonderful story, simply because Rowling is a wonderful story teller, but it also operates on other levels.  It's a moral story, a political story, and a thought-provoking story.  The Casual Vacancy shows the difference that one person can make, the unhappiness that so many people live with (unhappiness is highly concentrated there in Pagford), and how one wrong action can cause other wrong actions. J.K. Rowling touches on the petty little annoyances of life, and the true tragedies that touch everyone at some time.  Rowling is especially good at entering the lives of teenagers (as we know), but also shows her skill with the lives of adults, and the frustrations and disasters of grown-up life. When I first started reading The Casual Vacancy, I became concerned about keeping track of the many characters.  It turned out not a problem, as the author gave just enough context to quickly remember who any character was when she or he came up on a page.  The book kept me interested and reading from the start -- at first she's introducing characters and setting the scene, but I wanted to know who these characters were and what would happen to them.  I cared.  And then everything began to happen! This is a wonderful book.  Pick up The Casual Vacancy, read it, pretend it isn't by J.K. Rowling, and enjoy the heck out of it. [4.5 Stars]

Wind/Pinball by Haruki Murakami (1979/1980)

Largely plotless, the main character sits in a bar, drinks beer, and obsesses about a girl with 9 fingers.

Book Review:  Hear the Wind Sing was Haruki Murakami's first novel, which now comes in a re-titled bind-up with Pinball 1973, his second book. It was a quick (100 pages), enjoyable, and easy read, tho I think much of the enjoyment came in relating this to his later work. So many of the Murakami elements are here: loner (& oblivious) main character, unpredictable girlfriend, Western culture, wells, death, drinking, student riots, sex, quirkiness to be quirky. Even from this early date, he had established the themes for his future books. But it also reads so much like a first novel, like something a college student would write; the cliche first novel template in action.  It is fairly minimal, not a lot happens, mysteries are raised, not a lot is cleared up. Hear the Wind Sing is mainly sketches of a period in a life, not fully drawn, unformed but enjoyable.  Here are some points I noted: (1) the main character likes his friend's novel because there is no sex and no one dies -- hmm, two of Murakami's favorite themes are sex and death, (2) for long stretches this could be an American novel -- e.g., many American songs cited and not much Japanese "local color," (3) fans should enjoy reading the introduction on how Haruki Murakami got his style (he started writing the book in English) and became a writer, (4) in the intro he says this was not a good novel -- but I disagree it's simple and not perfectly formed, but there are many worse, (5) the translation seemed well done, as it flowed smoothly and there were only a few points where I had a "is that the right word?" moment. Hear the Wind Sing is sometimes also identified as the Rat #1, after a character in the book nicknamed the Rat. Should be enjoyable for all Murakami readers, but probably not of irresistible interest if not a fan. [3 Stars]

The main character obsesses about pinball, lives with twin sisters, and remembers his old girlfriend.

Haruki Murakami's second book, Pinball 1973, is a solid read, and it's fascinating to see his growth between this and Hear the Wind Sing, here venturing into true third person narration (there was some third person narration by the first person narrator in Hear the Wind Sing). As with Wind, this seems more like a sketch than a complete novel -- maybe an incomplete sentence compared to a complete sentence. There's no real beginning and ending to Pinball 1973, and not much growth between the first and last page. But it is certainly enjoyable to read and watch Murakami's style develop, with the unique touches that we know and love. Pinball 1973 is sometimes also referred to as the Rat #2, after a character from the first book who reappears here. Murakami is not yet Murakami in these first two books, but it's wonderful that these early books have finally been re-released. [3 Stars]

A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami (1982)

An advertising man's use of the photo of a uniquely marked sheep leads to an urgent and bizarre mission to find the sheep in the snowy mountains of northern Japan.

Book Review:  A Wild Sheep Chase is Haruki Murakami's first full-length novel, which he considered the "true beginning of my career as a novelist." It's a quantum leap forward from his first two shorter works, Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball 1973, and has the usual Murakami themes and signatures, an ear fetish, a Sheep Man, and the beginning of his use of magical realism (the book jacket cites the book as a hybrid of "mythology and mystery" -- I saw more magic than myth). The story is intriguing, not riveting, but picks up tempo in the final third. The ending was tidy but disappointing, and some elements of the story continue into Dance Dance Dance, the fourth book in the series. Although A Wild Sheep Chase is sometimes listed as the Rat #3, it's not necessary to read the first two books (now titled Wind/Pinball) before this one -- the author places everything in context and there's little overlap. The translation, by Alfred Birnbaum, is passable, tho it would be interesting to see a new translation. In A Wild Sheep Chase, Murakami hasn't quite developed the skills he will later, he's not yet Murakami, but still draws the reader into his world and it's a worthwhile and enjoyable read. [3.5 Stars]

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (1925)

A day trip through the mind, memories, and life of an upper class Englishwoman, and the mind, memories, and lives of the people around her through the course of that day.

Book Review:  The cover of Mrs. Dalloway states that this "is the portrait of a single day in a woman's life," and it's not that at all. It's a story of lost loves and youthful follies, of lives ruined by a hideous war, desperation, broken hearts, regrets, hopes and dreams, all the cliches of life then and now, irresistibly told. Woolf uses stream of consciousness to reveal the inner clockwork of many characters, showing the complexity of mind, disjointed feelings, thoughts about others, remnants of decisions made both in the past, and throughout that day.  No character is wholly good or bad; generally, no character thinks of any other character as wholly good or bad.  Woolf's narrative technique in Mrs. Dalloway works brilliantly to show the ambivalence and multifaceted thinking behind faces presented to the world, then just as we do now (it was written in 1925, but seems modern in style). The book is beautifully written: at the start I wondered if Walt Whitman would've written this way if he'd written prose; there were points near the end when I wondered if Dylan Thomas had read Woolf.  Mrs. Dalloway is a book on which one could profitably write a dissertation. Although the streams of thought seem jumbled and haphazard, actually it is carefully written and plotted.  If you want to have some fun, mark or highlight each instance when the time is given or a clock rings out. That is the central organizing device, but there are others if one cares to study the book: e.g., Woolf has stated that the characters of Dalloway and Smith are doubles. The writing style makes for slow reading, just as I suspect it made for slow but passionate writing.  In the midst of reading Mrs. Dalloway, I found I often had to go back half a page and start again to catch myself up on where I was. When I came back to the book after a break, I had to do the same. Quickly enough the reader picks up on the style and the reading becomes easier, just as tracking the jumps from mind to mind (no signposts here) will gradually become second nature for the reader.  In fact the challenge of the style added to the book's enjoyment. If possible, the reader will want to try to read in long stretches -- this isn't a book that benefits from being put up and down frequently.  Two other notes, first Woolf likes semicolons even more than I do, and second, if it helps, try to think of the writing style as an impressionist painting. So much more to say about this, but better to just let you go read Mrs. Dalloway. [4.5 Stars]

Queen of Swords by William Kotzwinkle (1983)

A married man, a little lost, not quite sure who he is, becomes irresistibly taken with a free-spirited, mysterious, and enchanting woman.  

Book Review:  Queen of Swords is an entertaining story of the important difference between delusion and illusion. It's about men's Madonna, whore, muse, marriage conundrum, set in a world where the sixties never ended, with undertones of Donleavy, Farina, Vonnegut, and Pynchon (not a bad bowling team there). It's about a writer in Maine who is tempted. There's even a ghost and a moral ending. Queen of Swords is a wild ride and there will be no problem finishing this book. What was most striking for me was how wonderfully well Kotzwinkle writes. He has a humorous, observant, clever, witty, charming, visual style that is irresistible. Not a book for squares, despite the moral ending, as the pot is plentiful. Queen of Swords is a quick and very enjoyable read. My only hesitation regarding the book was that after all the entertainment, it ended up seeming just a little slight or facile considering the subject matter. Or maybe that's just me: Kotzwinkle's use of humor and eccentric characters seems to have created an emotional distance for me.  But for a speedy, fun romp with the bonus of a lesson embedded, this is the book. [4 Stars]

My Book Blog Intro

Welcome to my book blog. You may be the only person to have ever seen it! Since tortoises are slow afoot, we have plenty of time to read and think. I read mostly contemporary and literary fiction (if there's a difference), with as many classics as I can slip in between. Occasionally I'll venture into other realms such as popular fiction (including YA), nonfiction (especially books about books), and poetry. Lately I've been trying to branch out into lesser known or forgotten books by lesser known or forgotten authors.  At the moment I'm thinking of authors like Muriel Spark, Bill Knott, Hubert Selby, Jr., and William Kotzwinkle, and hope to track down some others. I'm also trying to read and review a lot more poetry, which will be crazy eclectic.  Some of my favorite authors are Donna Tartt, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Shirley Jackson, and Haruki Murakami.  My reviews are as short as I can make them, with only a mini-summary (since I'm not doing a high school book report!), without too much literary fluff, and my main focus being to tell you my impression of the book and share my enthusiasm. Hope you enjoy!

Night Book by William Kotzwinkle (1974)

A married man, a little lost, not quite sure who he is, becomes irresistibly taken with a free-spirited, mysterious, and enchanting woman.  

Book Review:  Queen of Swords is an entertaining story of the important difference between delusion and illusion. It's about men's Madonna, whore, muse, marriage conundrum, set in a world where the sixties never ended, with undertones of Donleavy, Farina, Vonnegut, and Pynchon (not a bad bowling team there). It's about a writer in Maine who is tempted. There's even a ghost and a moral ending. Queen of Swords is a wild ride and there will be no problem finishing this book. What was most striking for me was how wonderfully well Kotzwinkle writes. He has a humorous, observant, clever, witty, charming, visual style that is irresistible. Not a book for squares, despite the moral ending, as the pot is plentiful. Queen of Swords is a quick and very enjoyable read. My only hesitation regarding the book was that after all the entertainment, it ended up seeming just a little slight or facile considering the subject matter. Or maybe that's just me: Kotzwinkle's use of humor and eccentric characters seems to have created an emotional distance for me.  But for a speedy, fun romp with the bonus of a lesson embedded, this is the book. [4 Stars]

When You Said No, Did You Mean Never? by Fani Papageorgiou (2013)

Fani Papageorgiou was born in Athens and studied at Edinburgh University and Harvard.  She has written a novel in Greek; this is her first book of poetry.

Poetry Review:  When You Said No, Did You Mean Never? is poetry with a sprinkling of science and learned facts. Although the poems are fashionably opaque, most end with a striking and emotionally resonant last line.  Many of the poems are short, which I like, and tend to have a few lines relating to science or other fields of learning: from WWI gas masks to the Heimlich maneuver to Carnegie controlling the price of steel, grammar, Greek, influenza, chemistry, etc. etc. Generally the factoids work, tho when incorrect it becomes confusing -- did Papageorgiou mean to give a false fact or was it a mistake?  Her work certainly provokes thought, which should be any good writer's aim.  Even the book title, When You Said No, Did You Mean Never? is provocative, and maybe a poem all by itself.  Here's a short one:

   "Dark Matter"

   In physics we call it dark
   because it doesn't radiate.

   In Greece it can be stork nests in the bell tower,
   moss on the flagstones,
   a dull pain in the sky.

A character named Karen (apparently a stand-in for the author) wanders through the book, which was intriguing and worked well for me.  Some poems, especially toward the end, gave up some of the science for a bigger share of human emotions, which generally were more successful.  The poems often contain aphorisms and epigrams too, which are usually well done, tho again, when they're unconvincing one wonders what it means, but at least one wonders!

   "It's Better with the Cracks"

   Influenza viruses come from birds not humans;
   even cold lakes get sick because of them.

   The man who stepped out for a newspaper
   and never came back
   lives inside us all.

A volume well worth reading, certainly an individual voice, and based on the last poems of When You Said No, Did You Mean Never?, I'm curious to see what Papageorgiou will do next. [3 Stars]

The Hot Jazz Trio by William Kotzwinkle (1989)

This trio is a novella and two short stories mixing surrealism, humor, and one of the more bizarre imaginations on the planet.

Book Review:  William Kotzwinkle is an able and daring writer.  Ever-confident in his abilities, he will take on any plot or style, as he does in the three humorous pieces in The Hot Jazz Trio.  First, is a surreal novella, featuring Jean Cocteau and Django Reinhardt, as they pursue a missing magician's assistant, with cameos by Picasso and Erik Satie.  The surrealism is reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland as written by Philip Pullman, but of course that can't quite describe it.  He mixes a mystery with the mysterious (similar to his novel Fata Morgana) and the reader has to hang on for the ride.  Nothing is too weird or odd for Kotzwinkle, and sense and sensibility go straight out the window.  It's the exciting novella without any rules, and if bizarre nonsense is your cup of tea -- drink up!  The second tale in The Hot Jazz Trio is a short short about a pharaoh confronting the afterlife, great concept that we too rarely hear about!  The third piece is a short story, a tall tale, a myth, a folk legend, about two circus clowns become hobos on the run from Death.  It too ventures into the surreal, an alternate universe, a world none of us has ever seen before.  All in all, The Hot Jazz Trio is three entertainments worth a read. You'll wonder how he does it. [3.5 Stars]

Doctor Rat by William Kotzwinkle (1976)

An insane rat stubbornly and perversely resists a laboratory rebellion by the other furry experimental subjects.

Book Review:  If that summary doesn't get you, you have the curiosity of a rutabaga.  But the contradictions of this book left me conflicted.  Doctor Rat is a book about the horror of animal experimentation told by a deranged lab rat, but it doesn't shy away from humor.  Animal lovers would seem to be the ideal target audience for Doctor Rat, but they're the ones who least need it, and will be most traumatized by reading the descriptions of animal torture and suffering. Is it torture porn?  Not quite, but maybe.  Readers who are ignorant of or insensitive to animal abuse by humans may well see it as a one-sided diatribe and stop reading.  About halfway through Doctor Rat, despite the detailed accounts of animal misery, the story becomes repetitious, even monotonous; part of the problem here is the mostly uniform tone of the first person narration, despite the changing narrators. William Kotzwinkle is an excellent writer, who I usually love, but even at 215 pages the book seemed overlong.  The story is saved by an apocalyptic ending that left me drained.  Doctor Rat is probably better than it sounds from this review, is certainly one of Kotzwinkle's major novels, and was the winner of the World Fantasy Award for Best Novel in 1977. [3.5 Stars]

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins (2015)

Every day a London train commuter watches an attractive couple in a home along the way, until she sees something that changes everything; murder and mystery follow.

Book Review:  Okay, I may be the last person to read The Girl on the Train, but I got it from the library and you know how that goes.  First the elephant in the room: I see the connections with Gone Girl: unlikable characters, unreliable narrators, twists and turns.  But for me, the biggest similarity is that I rated it quite high when I first read it, but after time the initial sense of quality started to fade a bit.  That first compulsive read and my highly piqued curiosity gave me an adrenaline rush, but then I crashed.  Still good, just not the same heady high as I had while reading.  I very much enjoyed the speedy read and didn't worry too much about the little things -- I'm curious as a cat and wanted to know how it would turn out. Bucking the trend, I actually liked The Girl on the Train more than Gone Girl; it doesn't have the same on-a-knife's-edge feel about it, but I found the characters more interesting and believable. They're more like people I could know, and I couldn't help but care about Rachel the main character, poor mess.  Even tho somewhat unlikable, the characters were given back stories that made me interested in, and even care about, them.  I found the least likable character to be one of the police officers. Finally, most readers seem to have solved the mystery in The Girl on the Train long before I did, but even if I had figured it out earlier, I thought the ending had just enough of a twist that it worked. Paula Hawkins must be tired of the Gone Girl comparisons, but I'm sure she's also laughing all the way to the bank. [4 Stars]

Reality and Dreams by Muriel Spark (1996)

A movie director, injured while on set, soon finds his real and creative lives in conflict, as are the economic and sexual aspects of the lives of his family, friends, and colleagues.

Book Review:  Muriel Spark is unsubtle here: this really is a book about reality and dreams. Normally I think of plot as secondary in a Spark book, and focus more on her excellent writing, keen wit, and sharp observation.  But she was trying something completely different in Reality and Dreams, and her plot intertwines the real and unreal in every paragraph, every situation, every character.  She has woven a tapestry of the real and the unreal as metaphor.  Everything in Reality and Dreams can be labeled real or unreal.  For example, the main character has two daughters one unreal (Cora) and one real (Marigold).  But Marigold has two parts one real (female), and one unreal (male).  Et cetera.  One can argue whether each element is the real or the unreal.  Perhaps she did this as an exercise, but the reader is confronted with this double vision on virtually every page of Reality and Dreams.  After my first read I was a bit puzzled (I love Muriel Spark's books) and felt as tho I had missed something. On my second read it all fell into place, and viewing everything through the real/unreal lens made it much more enjoyable and intriguing.  A.S. Byatt's back cover quote gave me the needed clue to understanding.  Thank you Ms. Byatt, and thank you Ms. Spark. [4 Stars]

Book Reviews & the Theory of Relativity

All five star books are not created equal.  A five star book by Virginia Woolf is not the same as a five star book by Shirley Jackson.  Say what?  When I award stars to a book, that rating is relative to other books by the author, and to a somewhat lesser extent, to other books in that genre.  Jackson may not be quite the writer that Woolf is (I love both), but each can get five stars for a book they've written. Otherwise, if Woolf is a five star writer, then lesser writers have no chance to get the highest rating, no matter how good a book is compared to others they've written. Every writer is capable of getting five stars, even if few do.  Donna Tartt is a good example: for me The Secret History was a five star book, The Goldfinch barely four stars (3.5 perhaps?), and The Little Friend was barely three stars; yet there are other writers who can only dream of writing a book as good as The Little Friend.  Yet for Tartt, I can't give any of them the same rating, they are too different in quality.  Many factors go into a rating, including how long that book will stay with me, or the emotional resonance it has, as well as readability and enjoyment.  So there is both a subjective component, enjoyment, and an objective component to ratings, with the objective part being some platonic ideal of the perfect novel. Unfair? Of course, but that's books and reading.  You know, life.