40.13: Flight Behavior, by Barbara Kingsolver (2012 hardcover)

I've always enjoyed Kingsolver's books, most notably Prodigal Summer (2000) and The Poisonwood Bible (2005), and I've read them all. In the range of her work, I'd say Flight Behavior falls right below the two mentioned above--a bit higher than her earlier work, but not quite as strong as those favorites. Essentially, the book is a slow build and it took me some time to become engaged with the protagonist--a poor, young mother in rural Appalachia who lives in a house with her husband and two children on his parents' sheep ranch. As I read on, however, I became more engaged, seeing how her life--and the life of the surrounding community--is affected by the arrival of a global-warming influenced phenomenon. It's a story both modern, for the environmental aspect, and as old as time--a coming-of-age story set in today's rural America.

39.13: Heart-Shaped Box, by Joe Hill (paperback 2007)

This is Hill's first book, and for an author's debut novel, it's not bad. Truthfully, though, if this was the first Hill book I had read--if I wasn't already a fan of Locke and Key comics and hadn't read his most recent novel--I may not have picked up another of his works. The book is average in development, although it gains momentum as it continues. I felt that the writing even improved within this one novel; at the beginning, I skimmed whole pages or sections I found extraneous, but later in the book things seemed more focused and relevant. I'm looking forward to reading his second novel, Horns, and watching him grow into the skilled author he becomes by NOS482.

37.13: We Have Always Lived In the Castle, by Shirley Jackson (iBook, originally published 1962)

Like many people, I've always found "The Lottery" to be a disturbing and fascinating reflection on humans and tradition, and Jackson's mastery of suspense and surprise packs a punch. In a recent articles, the author mentioned this novel--more of a novella, I suppose, at 160 pages in paperback--and I realized I had never read it. I immediately downloaded the book and raced through it, finding all the same Jackson elements present in her short fiction, with the added satisfaction of a (slightly) longer read.

34.13: NOS4A2, by Joe Hill (2013 hardcover)

I'm a huge fan of Joe Hill's Locke and Key comics, so I picked up his latest novel. Like his father (Stephen King), Hill is a remarkable storyteller--even of stories that are hard to engage in at first contact. I struggled to connect in the first 50 pages, but after that I couldn't stop: creepy but compelling, with great characters and surreal plot. (I'm catching up on my neglected blog, so these are short entries. Post a comment if you read the book--or are interested in doing so--and I'll share more!)

33.13: The Sisters Brothers, by Patrick DeWitt (paperback 2011)

This book won wide acclaim in Canada, and for good reason. It's a fantastic, genre-bending Western--funny, thoughtful, and action-packed. It's the best book I've read in recent memory, so pick it up today!
(I'm catching up on my neglected blog, so these are short entries. Post a comment if you read the book--or are interested in doing so--and I'll share more!)

32.13: Alligator, by Lisa Moore (2005 paperback)

This is the first novel by a Canadian author I discovered in a bookstore in Victoria, BC this summer. I can't wait to read her later work! (I'm catching up on my neglected blog, so these are short entries. Post a comment if you read the book--or are interested in doing so--and I'll share more!)

25.13: Story of My Life, by Jay McInerney (1988/2010 paperback)

I'm a product of the 1980s. I started high school in 1981 and graduated from undergrad in 1989. I wore leg warmers, stirrup pants, ballet flats, and unfortunate prints and color combinations--likely all at the same time. I turned up the collars on my shirts, pegged my pants, coated pennies with clear nail polish so they wouldn't lose their shine in my loafers, added additional piercings to my left ear lobe, and got an asymmetrical haircut. Since I lived in Saginaw and East Lansing, Michigan, I didn't experience the same extremes of vacuous culture, cocaine and drug use, and casual sex that big-city folk engaged in, but it also wasn't a period of innocence or sophistication. Frankly, if there is one saving grace to the 80s, it's that Facebook didn't come around for another 20+ years. For this I am eternally grateful to the Internet gods.

While we don't have minute-by-minute photo and narrative documentation of the 80s, we're not without our recorders. Premier among them is Jay McInerney; between his books and those of Brett Easton Ellis, you can pretty much understand the mindset of the time period without having to actually live it. And, those of us who did live it--even in some mid-western way--can take a trip down memory lane by picking up any of their novels of the period. Some time ago, Amazon apparently decided it was time for me to do so, and it put this book forward as a recommendation when I was ordering some comics (difficult to get from a local retailer in our small community). The book originally came out in 1988 but was reprinted in 2010. Even leg warmers have resurfaced, so it makes some sense.

I thought I had read all of McInerny's work when it originally came out, but somehow this novel seemed unfamilar to me when reading about it--enough for me to add it to my book order. And, as I read through it, it seemed both unfamiliar and familiar all at the same time. It's not that the details of narrator Alison Poole's life were so familar as to make me recognize I had, indeed, read the book. Instead, the story of the over-sexed, overly-high, overly-privileged culture she was immersed in seemed familiar. And even if these overlys weren't in your 80s experience, the entire tone of the book and attitudes of the characters are reminiscent of the period itself. It's quintessential McInerney, and a good read for those not afraid of looking back to see where we were for a brief time.

37.12: The Casual Vacancy, by J.K. Rowling (2012 hardcover, borrowed from Laurie)

I'm an average Harry Potter fan, so I was interested to read Rowling's first novel written for an adult audience. My friend Laurie--a huge HP fan who teaches a Potter-themed freshman composition course--lent me the book, and I'm glad that I didn't spend my own money on it. The novel, depicting what I must imagine is intended to be a typical small, gossipy British town, fell short of my expectations. The characters were not sympathetic, and I wasn't really invested in the outcome of the novel. Come to think of it, it's been only a few weeks since I read it, and I'm not entirely sure what that outcome was. I'll likely read another Rowling novel (surely her level of fame and fortune will allow her another even after this loser), but if she doesn't convince me with that one, I'll stick to my fond memories of and/or reread HP.

20.12: Fifty Shades of Grey (Book 1 of the Shades of Grey trilogy), by E.L James (iBook edition, Pub. 2012)

I first heard about this book--which is actually the first of a trilogy--when visiting my aunt in City Island. After looking into it and learning that more copies have been sold online than any previous book in such a short time, or something of the the like, I had to check it out and see just why it is so popular. Having done so, I've found it really boils down to one thing: discreet, readily-available porn for women.

Porn might be a bit strong. I suppose some would make an argument for the label of erotica instead, and I could go along with that, but I would have to draw the line at calling it a romance. It's all about the sex, with a bit of storyline thrown in between encounters. Frankly, seeing as it's in a digital format, it seems like it would be easy to package it with the appropriate pump-and-grind soundtrack for the full effect. You'd need a decent number of whip and chain sounds mixed in as well, though, as this isn't your run-of-the-mill sex. Forget the bodice-rippers of past days, featuring what the main male character would declaim as "vanilla" sex: the majority of the sex here is of the S & M variety, and even when it's not, we're told that it really should be, and eventually will be. Like the main character, we should feel a bit horrified and guilty about that fact, while also finding it pretty hot.

I'm not judgmental or squeamish about what folks do in their bedrooms--or their torture chambers, as the case may be--but I really disliked this book for a number of reasons. Sure, there is some sexy stuff in it, and it's set in the hip Pacific Northwest, and everyone is beautiful and/or rich. However, it really grates on me that the protagonist of the novel, Anastasia Steele, is pretty much an adult version of Bella from the Twilight series. Like Bella, Ana has a mother living far away with husband/boyfriend number something, a father nearby who is kind but clueless, and friends who are completely unaware of anything she does. She is also beautiful without knowing it, smart without seeming to do any schoolwork or reading, and clumsy as all get out. Throw in an emotionally unavailable, brooding vampire--oh, I mean boyfriend--and there you have it.

In addition to being disappointed that a sexy novel aimed at women has to have such a terrible female role model and relationship at the center, the quality of writing is pretty dreadful. Even the names--a dominant named Christian Grey and a (potential) sub named Anastasia Steele--are ridiculous. About a third of the way through the book I stopped reading and then forced myself to go back and finish. I didn't really care about the characters or what happened--and I certainly don't have any interest in what unfolds in books two and three--but I felt like I should finish the first book so I could lambast it a bit more knowledgeably. 

Don't take my word for it, though. In addition to its original digital format, the book has now gone into print. The fact that it's the first book to make that transition--the reverse of usual publishing formats--is likely the most interesting thing about it.

13.12: The Last Bookstore in America, by Amy Stewart (Kindle edition, Pub 2009)

First off, let me say that I have not failed to notice the irony that I read a novel about the decline of the bookstore on my iPad. Added to my guilt is the fact that Stewart is a local author and does, indeed, own a bookstore in my hometown. In fact, it's pictured on the front cover of the book. My guilt is slightly assuaged by the fact that I plan to purchase copies of the book in print as Christmas gifts for a number of people, but I've never been as aware of the issue of eBooks than I was while reading this book.

With that said, I have to say that I fully enjoyed this book. I downloaded it in the airport when traveling and found myself chuckling aloud at many parts. Much of the reason for my hilarity was the thinly-veiled discussion of small-time life in Eureka and surrounding Humboldt County. I recognized a good number of the characters--or at least parts of some people cobbled together to make a single character--places and settings were familiar, and social norms and attitudes were spot on.  While I think we likely come off a bit more charming and quaint in the book that we are in real life, reading this can give folks some idea of what it is like to live in rural, liberal, environmentalist, and--yes, of course--marijuana-influenced Northern California. I'd be curious to hear what folks that don't live here thought of the book.

As an aside, I want to mention that this is Stewart's first fiction release, but she has a number of amazing books on gardening: The Earth Moved: On the Remarkable Achievements of Earthworms (2005), Flower Confidential: The Good, the Bad, and the Beautiful (2008),

Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities (2009), and Wicked Bugs: The Louse That Conquered Napoleon's Army & Other Diabolical Insects (2011). They make excellent gifts for the gardener, botanist, or nature lover in your life. Go buy them now. At your local bookstore.

8: Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, by David Sedaris (2010 hardcover)

I've read everything David Sedaris has published, look forward to his pieces in The New Yorker, and go to see him every couple years when he performs on campus.  So, I'm a fan.  And, when his recent book came out, I didn't even read a review or glance at the book jacket; I bought it on first sight.  I picked up the book a couple months ago on a rainy afternoon, anticipating settling in with a good friend, and was instead met by a stranger.  Simply put, on first impression this book is nothing like any other Sedaris publication.

I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it that first time.  Indeed, I read the first two anthropomorphic fables in the collection--"The Cat and the Baboon" and "The Migrating Warbler"--smiled a bit, scratched my head, and put the book aside. Another couple books got piled on top of it, giving me something to focus on while the puzzle of the new Sedaris book worked itself out in the back of my mind. Finally, unwilling to betray my fandom, I recently decided it was time to try it again, and this time I was ready. Instead of seeing these stories of animals as something foreign and different, on my second approach I recognized that the ironic magnifying glass which Sedaris trains on his family, friends, and himself, is still focused on the same subject manner in these fables. Indeed, the animal protagonists and antagonists share the same foibles and fears as characters do in the human world.  I wouldn't exactly say that there is a self-evident moral to every story, a la Aesop, but underneath the fur and feathers you'll certainly recognize a few folks that you know.

Maybe it was because I was ready, but the third story of the collection--the "Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk" of the book's title--captured me immediately, providing a tale familiar to anyone who has been in or knows someone who's been in a mixed-species (or race, or religion, or...) relationship. The (expectedly) horrible behavior of the crow in "The Crow and the Lamb," the selfishness of the cow in "The Cow and the Turkey," and the foolishness of one of "The Parenting Storks" will surely remind readers of some members of the human species.  Quite frankly, "Hello Kitty" offers the absolutely best cat-in-prison AA story that I've ever heard.

In the end, I was happy to discover that underneath a new genre--and handsomely illustrated by Ian Falconer, author/illustrator of the wonderful Olivia the Pig children's books--lurks the same Sedaris stories that fans enjoy.  And, I can assure you that I will never look at an Irish Setter the same way again.

6: An Object of Beauty, by Steve Martin (2010 hardcover)

I have to start this entry by confessing that I love Steve Martin.  While he's not one of my three desert-island boys (as he is for my friend Lola), I am always amazed by the depth of Martin's talent.  Most folks know that he's a great comedian and author.  Fewer likely know that he's been touring with a bluegrass group for a couple of years, playing banjo and charming crowds--two of which I've been fortunate to be a part of.  (My favorite song in his collection, "Atheists Don't Have No Songs" is hilarious.) And, considering the limited number of people who read these days, I'd guess that even fewer people know Martin as an author. Yet, in many ways I think he's an even better writer than he is a comedian, actor, or musician.

Both of his earlier novellas--Shopgirl (2000) and The Pleasure of My Company (2003)--were charming depictions of young, innocent protagonists making their way in the world.  In An Object of Beauty, Martin's first full-length novel, the protagonists--the male art critic who serves as narrator and the female art curator/gallery owner whose life he narrates--are young but less innocent.  From the very beginning of the book, in fact, readers are aware that the two have committed a crime of sorts, and their early indiscretion is slowly revealed over the course of a ten year tale following this secret act. In the process of revelation, the we are treated to an inside view of New York City's art world from the 1990s and early 2000s.

In addition to his many talents, Martin is an art collector and student of sorts. (His recent talk at the YMCA in NYC drew national attention when the Y refunded attendees' money because of complaints that Martin talked more about art than his acting; he made a funny appearance on The Colbert Report shortly after, critiquing a propaganda poster of Stephen.) Martin's knowledge of and appreciation for art of the Modern and Contemporary periods is clear in the beautiful descriptions throughout--supplemented by a couple dozen full-color pictures of art pieces sprinkled throughout the pages.  Reading An Object of Beauty made me eager for my next big-city visit and the museums and galleries that await. And for Martin's next novel, of course.

4: The Help, by Kathryn Stockett (2009 Kindle)

A lot of people I know have read Stockett's novel about race relations within a Mississippi community during the Civil Rights Movement, and everyone said good things about it.  It also got quite a bit of attention in popular media, which is one of the reasons I drug my feet when it came to getting it myself (I'm always resistant to jumping on the latest literary bandwagon.)--and why it ended up on my Kindle when I finally did purchase it.  Since I only use my Kindle when traveling, the books I load are usually pop-fiction books I don't feel strongly about owning physically.  Having started it at the end of my trip to the Balkans last summer, I put the Kindle aside on my return and didn't get back to The Help until my trips to Orlando in November and the Pacific NW coast this month.  

What I'm pointing out is that it took me a long time to gain interest in Stockett's novel, and even longer to finish it.  That, however, is completely counter to my actual enjoyment of the book, which tells a remarkable story and is very well written.  Indeed, Stockett provides an exceptional view into a time and a place, and she does so by depicting the world of women--a vantage point not often shared in historic texts.

The novel is set in Jackson, Mississippi, and it alternates between three narrators: Eugenia, a single, white woman of privilege who has returned to her family home after college; Aibileen, a widowed, complacent African-American maid whose only son died in an accident; and Minny, a willful African-American maid married to an abusive drunk, with whom she has several children.  Aibileen and Minny work in the homes of two of Eugenia's best friends, and they tell their stories of servitude and second-class citizenry in matter-of-fact narratives.  In an effort to pursue her aspirations as a writer, Eugenia decides to write a book about what it's like to be a black woman caring for the homes and the children of white women in the Jim Crow south.  She convinces Aibileen to assist her in recruiting a dozen maids to tell their stories--both the good and the bad.

The trust and the stories don't come easily. The women face serious threats from all sides and must work in secrecy, and even then jobs and friends are lost--on both sides of the race line. The resulting narrative, however, is powerful, sad, and joyful. in these pages, Stockett explores the fears and misconceptions that drove segregation, as well as the hope and courage that brought about its end.  I can see why so many people enjoyed the book, and I am happy that I finally read it.  My only complaint is that I was a bit dissatisfied with the ending, but I can't really go into that without ruining it for those of you who haven't read it yet.  Which I strongly encourage you to do.