Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote
Paperback, 178 pg.
Vintage International, 1993
Read: Jun. 24, 2012
Am not sure why this one resonates with so many, why it’s so acclaimed, but it is. For the most part, the narrative left me cold, as did the characters.
Capote’s descriptions on the other hand…great stuff, delicious writing there. Made it worth my while, but I can’t imagine I’ll be back for more.
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Doc by Mary Doria Russell
Hardcover, 394 pg.
Random House, 2013
Read: June 9-13, 2012
I was almost 100 pages into this novel when the thought occurred to me how extraordinarily careful Russell was in the way she put this together. Not that I think most authors are sloppy or anything, but the effort to make sure every piece, every word, every event was placed juuuust so was very evident.
The result of all this care is a heckuva novel about the years and events leading up to Wyatt & Morgan Earp heading to Tombstone with their good buddy Doc Holliday. Warm, exciting, brutal–this novel reads like a fast-paced biography. Really, really well written–there are a couple of times that Russell overplays her hand and gets downright manipulative, and at least once she almost lost me while doing so.
I’m glad I stuck it out tho’, the climax was as heart-breaking as it was heart-warming, and the coda put a nice little bow on the whole thing. Well worth the time and effort.
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The Sleepy Hollow Family Almanac by Kris D’Agostino
Paperback, 352 g.
Algonquin Books, 2012
Read from May 13-14, 2012
blech. I feel like I’ve read this book 3 times this year (see also: Flatscreen: A Novel and The Fallback Plan). Each time I’ve been disappointed. What a waste of talent (the dude can write, sure).
Oh, and I think that people who write blurbs for un-funny books that promise “hilarity” or something along those lines should be excessively fined–maybe imprisoned.
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Fobbit by David Abrams
Paperback, 384 pg,
Grove Press, Black Cat, 2012
Read: Jan. 23-25, 2014
I enjoy a good satire — no matter if the target is one I identify with or oppose, a good satire is a treat. Fobbit didn’t totally work for me as a satire, but it came close.
As the cover says, a Fobbit is someone stationed at the Forward Operating Base during the Iraq war. The novel follows a handful of Fobbits as they try to survive their deployment while accomplishing as much as The Powers That Be allow them to (which includes a surprising number of PowerPoint presentations).
Staff Sergeant Gooding of Public Affairs attempts to keep various media outlets appraised of events, but before he can, he has to run everything up the flagpole — beginning with the impossibly political Lt. Col. Harkleroad. By the time Harkleroad and his superiors get done massaging/mangling the presentation of the facts to suit their needs, CNN, etc. have already discovered the reality, ran their stories, and moved on to something else.
On the other end of things, Sgt. Lumely is on the front-lines, but has to endure the inept command of Capt. Abe Shrinkle, who’s probably just as dangerous to his men as Iraqi insurgents (if not more). Lt. Vic Duret is Shrinkle’s commander, and he’s as frustrated trying to minimize Shrinkle’s damage.
Fobbit starts slow, and builds slower — but, eventually (and organically), the plot picks up and the lives of these poor Fobbits spiral out of control. Then it stopped feeling like a “eat your veggies” kind of read, and one that I could enjoy.
Fobbit‘s not as pointed as Catch-22, or as laugh-out-loud funny as Mash: A Novel About Three Army Doctors — as much as it wants to be in that company. But it’s honest, upfront, and feels authentic.
This is a satire of the circumstances these soldiers found themselves in, about the way the war was being fought, not about whether it should be or not. As nearly as possible, it’s an a-political book — pro-Operation Iraqi Freedom or anti- — it can be appreciated for what it is. Well-written, with characters that are a little more human than satire necessitates, and a world more grounded than expected.
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Empire Falls by Richard Russo
Hardcover, 483 pg.
Knopf, 2011
Read: May 22-27, 2012
Wow. Just wow. Not sure what else to say.
I’d suspected/wondered that something like the big climactic event was going to happen–yet when it happened, I was on the edge of my seat, saying “No fraking way!” (and just about decapitated my son who interrupted me during the middle of it) But even before that, the book had grabbed me with its humor, tragedy and humanity.
This one’s going to haunt me (in good and bad ways) for a long time.
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The Love Song of Jonny Valentineby Teddy Wayne
Hardcover, 304 pg.
Free Press, 2013
Read: Dec. 25, 2013
Jonny Valentine, the 11-year-old pop sensation, desperately wants to reach adolescence (probably not all that different from others his age) — but he’s very, very aware what that will do to his voice, his appearance — overall, his appeal to the tween and teen demographics. And he’s counting on it, if he doesn’t sell more to teen girls, he’s sunk. His career is dead.
That’s not the only part of his life that he sees in marketing terms. His haircut, the amount of fat and calories he consumes, his video gaming, exercises, amount of sleep — everything is micromanaged to the nth degree by his mother/manager, studio, vocal coach, and, to a lesser extent, his bodyguard (the closest thing her has to a friend). Everything he thinks, everything he wears he runs through a mental calculus wondering what it’ll do for sales, social media exposure, ticket sales, etc. How anyone can deal with this all, much less a near-adolescent, is unfathomable.
Honestly, ticket sales and record sales have dropped off a little for this phenom, so the record company begins to take a more hands-on approach to things — inventing news stories, coming up with a new media relations plan, etc. etc. And Jonny’s life becomes a little harder.
At the core of this story though, is a little kid, who just wants to be a little kid. He wants his mom to be more of a mom than a manager, he wants to spend time with his best friend from before he made it big, he wants to screw around and play. At the end of the day, I feel more pity for Jonny than I did for Auggie Pullman from Wonder.
Most of the observations/comments on/critiques of celebrity culture that are given here, are things we’ve all seen or made ourselves. But by putting them into the mouth and head of a kid, rather than an outsider adult, makes it all so much more effective.
Darkly comic (not terribly funny, though), insightful, sympathetic. A worthwhile read.
N. B. just because this is about an eleven-year-old, don’t for a second think this is appropriate reading material for that age. This isn’t MG, this is written for an adult audience.
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WonderHardcover, 313 pg.
Knopf, 2012
Read Jan. 14-15, 2014
August “Auggie” Pullman is a great 10-year old kid, loves Star Wars, academically gifted, has a devoted dog, a nice older sister, very supportive parents, he’s friendly — big-hearted, really. After years of being homeschooled, he’s off to a private school for Middle School (when, btw, did Middle School start in 5th grade?). Oh, sure, one other thing: he has a genetic disorder resulting in severe facial abnormalities.
Kids being kids — this is clearly fraught with peril. It’d be tough for a kid to enter this atmosphere from his background no matter what — but in Auggie’s case, things are magnified. We follow Auggie through that rocky first year through various perspectives — his, his sister’s, his friends’, his sister’s boyfriend’s, and so on. I frequently get tired of this whole multiple perspective schtick, but Wonder is one of those cases where it works. By seeing the same event (occasionally, not every event) trough various eyes, we get a much better — and richer — picture of Auggie’s trials and triumphs.
Yeah, this is written for 4-8 grade reading level, and as such, not the most sophisticated writing or plot. Yeah, this has all the makings of an After-School Special (that’s a term that’s about to lose all meaning, isn’t it?). Yeah, the plot is pretty predictable. Fair enough. But R. J. Palacio pulled it off — it all works — all the kids seem real, the struggles his sister has are believable, the varied emotions (noble and not) are realistic. It’s a song sung well, no matter how old or simple it is.
Wonder‘s fun, occasionally funny, and heartwarming. Read it, and get your kids to read it, too.
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Someday, Someday, Maybe by Lauren Graham
Hardcover, 344 pg.
Ballantine Books, 2013
Lauren Graham’s as entertaining a writer as she is an actress. Which makes her too talented for any one person to be. Her protagonist, Franny, is a struggling actress trying to get her break in New York in the mid-90s. And it’s nearly impossible to not see Graham as Franny — it’s beyond impossible to not hear Graham in the narration (frequently) and in the dialogue (always).
That’s not a complaint, it’s an observation.
This is fun, heart-warming, and laugh-inducing. A breezy read that’s well worth the time.
Heck, the last paragraph said by Franny’s agent about being faster, funnier and louder is alone worth reading the book.
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To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway
What a miserable book! Harry Morgan is an almost thoroughly despicable character in a pointless book full of sad, pathetic and incomplete plots. I think I can see where Hemingway was trying to stretch as an author, the multiple perspectives he writes from here is a different approach for him (one that doesn’t succeed too well), for example. But I thought this failed utterly.
Towards the end of the book, there’s a few pages where Hemingway gives us snapshots of various characters aboard different boats in the marina — all of whom we only see here in a few paragraphs — I thought this was effective, light years beyond the rest of the novel. It felt quite out of place, a diamond in the rough. (which may suggest it wasn’t as good as I thought, it just seemed so much better — I don’t think that’s the case, but it’s possible)
Oh, this also featured possibly the least erotic sex scene I’ve read this side of Tom Wolfe (actually, may be worse than Wolfe). Nothing to make hay about there, just thought I’d note it as it really bugged me.
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by Allison Winn Scotch
Paperback, 306 pg.
Camellia, 2013
The Theory of Opposites starts off with a bang — a Rube-Goldberg of verbal and physical slapstick. Raised by a self-help guru, raised in an atmosphere saturated with and run by her (best-selling and almost universally acclaimed) father’s theories, Willa Chandler-Golden’s life is about to fall apart the way that her day falls apart before she even leaves the apartment this fateful day.
She loses her job, learns that she’s not pregnant after all, learns that her parents are both in the midst of a late-life crisis, learns that the twelve-year-old son of her husband’s dead friend will be spending the summer with them, her husband may be stepping out on her. Oh, yeah — and then a couple weeks later her husband decides they need a break from each other. He’ll be moving across the country, sharing custody of his “nephew.”
So, Willa does what anyone finding themselves in this situation — she agrees to help her best friend write a self-help book that ties into her favorite Reality TV Show. As an added bonus, their book will flatly contradict her father’s near-Nobel Prize winning work.
During this break, catastrophe strikes Willa’s father and brother, her mother’s life turns upside down, and The One Who Got Away comes back into her life.
Somewhere in all this, Willa tries to figure out just what she wants in life, what she believes about life, and what kind of person she’s going to be. The question The Theory of Opposites tries to answer.
There’s fun to be had in the reading, but it’s not as if there’s a denial of the seriousness of it all. Scotch deals with some pretty serious issues with the same light, deft touch she brought to her past novels — breezy enough that you can let the uncomfortable details slip by, but honest enough that they’re in front of you all the time. I don’t think this was quite as satisfying as her The Song Remains the Same, but it was good enough to keep me looking for whatever comes next.
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