New Century Reading

Await Your Reply

Dan Chaon's Await Your Reply is one of those books that got a lot of buzz last year, so much so that I had mixed feelings: was it that good, or was it overhyped? It certainly had a long line at the library, so I put my name on the queue and forgot about it, until it showed up last week.

Side note: I kinda wish the library queue was like Netflix--when I have a certain amount of books checked out already, it freezes all my other requests. I don't do a very good job of managing the library list and frequently end up with books with long waitlists that I have to race through while trying to read other things. Add to that the fact that I usually use the library for books I'm not sure I'm going to like--and I'm frequently correct about that--the library sometimes ends up being a negative experience for me. That's not really fair to the poor library. I'm lucky enough to live in a county with a strong, vibrant library. So I need to stop whining and start managing my queue better.

OK, so, Await Your Reply showed up, I groaned because I was in the middle of other books and projects, and reminded myself that I didn't have to give it more than 50 pages.

Yet here I am, a few days later, the book done--all other books abandoned while I read this one--and I'm feeling slightly stunned.

Wow.

I'm not 100% sure how to describe it. It's kind of a mystery, or thriller, and there's a wonderfully menacing undertone to the story. But it's so much more than that. It's a very character-driven story, with three separate narratives: the story of Miles, searching for his long-missing troubled twin brother Hayden; Lucy, a recent high school graduate who has left her hometown with her former high school history teacher; and Ryan, who makes a break with his college life to reinvent himself entirely.

The concept of reinvention is a major theme in this book. All the major characters--and some of the secondary ones too--are engaged in redefining themselves. Or if not actually changing, they're reflecting on how their lives have lead them to this point, and what they might have been if their lives had been different. That sounds incredibly trite, which the book isn't, but to give more details would require spoilers, and I'd rather not do that. Just read this book and see for yourself.

One of the best comparisons was made by Girl Detective, who said that this book reminded her of the movie Memento. True, that.

And the writing is terrific. Here's Lucy, reflecting on a stop in Nebraska:

"Nebraska was even worse than Ohio--if such a thing were possible. There was a soundlessness about this place, she thought, though sometimes the wind made the glass in the windowpanes hum, the wind running in a long exhaled stream through the weeds and dust and dry bed of the lake, and sometimes unexpectedly there would be a very startling sonic boom over the house as a military place broke the sound barrier, and there was the rattle of the grasshoppers leaping from one weed to the next--

But mostly it was silence, a kind of end-of-the-world hush, and you could feel the sky sealing over you like the glass around a snow globe."

Await Your Reply comes out in paperback next week, and I think I'm going to pick it up, read it again, really look hard at how Chaon constructed this story and created these characters. Interestingly, the covers are quite different. The hardcover:

The paperback:

The paperback is kinda lurid. I think I prefer the hardcover, which fits the story very well too. Those of you who've read it, what did you think?

Wuthering Heights Wednesday

We're closing in on the end now, and this was an odd little set of chapters. A good chunk of the story is told by Cathy to Nelly, and retold by Nelly to Mr. Lockwood. You know what happens when stories get retold. How much of this really happened? And Cathy, who is young, naive, and romantic--how much did she adjust for her own purposes?

For some reason, as I've noted during this read-along, I've been a bit obsessed with Nelly on this go-round. I love how she lied through her teeth when telling Linton what he could expect at Wuthering Heights, but here, when Cathy worries about the possibility of her father's death, Nelly rather bluntly says, "None can tell, whether you won't die before us." Wow, way to console there, Nelly.

And again, as before--really, Nelly? You didn't consider what Cathy might be up to, that she insisted on leaving you alone in the evening after your illness? And that her bright cheeks might have been from the outdoors, rather than the fire inside? Seriously? Nelly! You are the literary definition of self-deception!

I'm reading the Longman Cultural Edition, and there's a section in the back called Contexts, where the editor has gathered up bits and pieces of things about Emily Bronte and her life and times. One of the pieces quotes extensively from an introduction Charlotte Bronte wrote to the 1850 reprint of Wuthering Heights, after Emily's death. A couple of passages caught my attention:

"For a specimen of true benevolence and homely fidelity, look at the character of Nelly Dean."

So...Charlotte? Were you in a bit of denial too? Nelly had her own agenda, and while I don't doubt that she cares for Cathy and Edgar, she's watching out for herself every bit as much, and is glib with the truth and a bit too willing to gossip about all of this to a veritable stranger.

But further on, Charlotte says of Heathcliff:

"Heathcliff betrays one solitary human feeling, and that is not his love for Catherine; which is a sentiment fierce and inhuman: a passion such as might boil and glow in the bad essence of some evil genius...the single link that connects Heathcliff with humanity is his rudely confessed regard for Hareton Earnshaw--the young man whom he has ruined; and then his half-implied esteem for Nelly Dean."

Can't say as to how I'd disagree with that.

Scott Pilgrim

Teen 2 has of late been begging me to get the Scott Pilgrim books for him. Having no clue who Scott Pilgrim is, and not particularly caring, I picked up volume 1: Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life at the store and tossed it into the hands of said Teen, who read it in less than an hour and asked for the next volume. I calculated the cost of the books against the amount of time required to read them, and ordered the rest from the library. While waiting, I decided to take a gander at the first one.

I have to admit, I really liked it. For some reason, I feel guilty about this, as if I shouldn't like it, like I'm too old and far too unhip and really not the right demographic at all. Scott Pilgrim is a hapless but hopeful 23-year-old Toronto resident who starts dating a high school girl before meeting the love of his life: Ramona Flowers. Ramona comes with some serious baggage: 7 evil ex-boyfriends that Scott must fight and defeat if she is to be his girlfriend. In the meantime, Scott's in a band (the Sex Bob-ombs) and is a total freeloader to his gay roommate, Wallace.

Scott should not be the kind of guy I want to read about. He's 23 and dating a high schooler? He puts off breaking up with her because of Ramona, then does it badly? He's got no life to speak of and no income?

But he's just so damn likable.

And the books are utterly goofy. Half the time Scott's living in a sort of reality, but then he's in a video game. The 7 evil ex-boyfriends run the gamut from menacing to giggle-worthy, especially the one with superhuman powers bestowed upon him because he's a vegan. There's a lot of 20-somethings sitting around, dissecting their own and each others' love lives, drinking, smoking, and having sex (not explicit, but still fairly open about it). There's high school backstory, ex-girlfriends, weak attempts at holding gainful employment, and tons of sly little throwaway jokes.

So far we've read the first four in the series, and are waiting on #5 from the library, with #6 being published this summer. Teen 2 has also been yakking about a movie version, which initially made me roll my eyes. Because you just know that a movie based on a book that spends half its time being a video game isn't going to be any good, right?

But: the movie stars Michael Cera, which is pretty much perfect casting, and it's being made by the folks behind two of my all-time favorite movies: Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead. 

So....maybe this will work.

If nothing else, there's still another book to read.

And enjoyed, even by this middle-aged frump who thinks Scott should get a job and never look at high school girls again.

The Night Country

I'm somewhat at a loss as to how to describe this fine novel by Stewart O'Nan. Technically you could call it a ghost story, but that sort of implies a genre piece, or a predictability that doesn't exist. It's got a bit of a mystery in it too, but along with the ghost piece, that's secondary to the whole story. Which, maybe, is what makes it so good.

Based on a true story, The Night Country tells the sad and--yes, I have to use this word, even though it looks like a bad pun--haunting story of a small Connecticut town that suffered a horrendous tragedy one Halloween when a carful of teenagers ran off the road, killing three of them, and leaving one of the survivors mentally incapacitated. The final survivor, a 17-year-old boy, has a whopping case of survivor guilt, because of those who died and of his former death-metal-loving, now childlike surviving friend. When the anniversary of the accident comes up, he decides he can't take it anymore.

But he's not the only one suffering. The parents of all the teens involved are still grieving, each in their own way, including the mother of the brain-damaged boy, who guiltily wonders if life would be better if her son had died too. And let's not forget the cop who was pursuing the kids as they were speeding--his life has changed irrevocably too.

The ghosts of the three dead teens are the ones who tell this story, a technique that could so easily have been a pathetic mess, but isn't. O'Nan balances this narration carefully, retaining the spirit and cocksure teenage attitude but adding a layer of growing awareness of their lot in life--or death.

Even those not close to the dead kids are aware of their loss in the odd way life has of reminding them.

"He sent flowers to the funeral home, hoping that was proper. He'd never lost an employee before. They were shorthanded for a few weeks; he doesn't remember who he found to take her place, the turnover's so high. It seems longer than a year. How does that happen? It's Monday and then it's Sunday and then the whole thing starts all over again."

I know I'm making this book sound like a real downer. It's definitely a sad read, but so worthwhile. O'Nan is a master at looking at the "small" lives of people, and he understands the role smaller cities play in the lives of the residents (as he demonstrated so beautifully in Last Night at the Lobster). 

This is also a book that has some diverse covers across the waters. I read a copy from the U.K., on loan from a friend.

It's a little goofy and seemingly random, but I found it really fit the book.

This is the U.S. cover:

Creepier and plays up the horror/mystery aspect, but I feel like that misses the point of this book. Anyone else read it? What do you think?

Wuthering Heights Wednesday

Well, the you-know-what is hitting the proverbial fan now, isn't it? Who was it that said revenge is a dish best served cold? Whoever it was, they were quite familiar with Heathcliff. Talk about patience--he's waited for years to get this scenario set up, with no guarantee it'd ever work.

By the way, if you're wondering about the legalities behind all his scheming, this site has some good background on the property laws of the day. Emily clearly knew what was what back then, and it's amazing how intricately she plotted all this.

Once again, I'm taken with Nelly and her actions (or inactions, in some cases). I love the lies she tells Linton when she takes him over to Wuthering Heights: "The poor thing was finally got off with several delusive assurances that his absence should be short; that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him; and other promises, equally ill-founded, which I invented and reiterated, at intervals, throughout the way."

Did anyone else's heart break when Linton begs not to be left at the Heights as Nelly leaves? Granted, she really didn't have a choice. But setting up the poor kid with that level of deception--well, child development psychology has come a long way since then, hasn't it?

However, any sympathy I had for Nelly's plight dissipated when she has plenty of reason to note Cathy's secretive behavior and takes so long to act on it. Come on, Nelly--by this point, you must realize you can't trust Cathy. Putting off the inevitable only makes it worse. 

Still enjoying this book, a tale of treachery and betrayal and peculiar love told over years.

I did notice, however, that we have 13 chapters left, meaning that we either read the last four chapters together, or have a straggler chapter. I vote for reading the last four together. What do you think?

Shadow Tag

I'm a huge fan of Louise Erdrich's work, so I was delighted when HarperCollins sent me a copy of her latest novel, Shadow Tag. But I find myself at a little bit of a loss as to how I feel about it.

Shadow Tag is the story of Irene America and her husband Gil, and how their marriage is sinking under a number of issues, from his at-times abusive behavior, her drinking, his suspicion that she's having an affair. He can't resist snooping once he stumbles on her diary; when she realizes what he's doing, she begins leaving fake entries to mislead him, while keeping a separate, true diary in a bank safe deposit box.

After reading and loving such rich novels as The Master Butcher's Singing Club and The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, Shadow Tag comes as quite a shock. It's contemporary, urban, and much more spare, even cold, in its writing style. There's still attention to Native American history and culture, such as the revelation of the book's title:

"Winnie Jane had once shown Irene a photograph of children attempting to extinguish a shadow by covering it with pebbles. She had told Irene of a medicine person who healed the sick with his shadow. An evil windigo warrior whose strength was in his shadow but whom a little girl was able to kill exactly at noon. A soul could be captured through a shadow. It was in the Ojibwe language. Waabaamoojichaagwaan--the word for mirror also can refer to shadow and to the soul: your soul is visible and can be seen. Gil had placed his foot on Irene's shadow when he painted her. And though she tried to pull away, it was impossible to tug that skein of darkness from under his heel."

But the story itself, and its focus on two fairly unlikable characters, makes it hard not to recoil. I don't have to love the characters in any book I read, but I have to care. I did care about Irene and Gil, sort of, in a train wreck kind of way. How else to read when Gil is being abusive behavior to the kids, or when one of the children shows Irene a picture he'd drawn of her with a wineglass in her hand, because that's how he always sees her?

I'm going to address the closing at the end of this review, as it involves spoilers. I don't know; I had a hard time putting Shadow Tag down, as it certainly built momentum and was very vivid. But I couldn't really say I liked it. It may be in part because I've read too much of Erdrich's personal biography and can't help reading in between the lines more than I should. If you've read and loved Erdrich's earlier work, approach this one with caution--and I feel terrible saying that, because I normally love to see authors stretching themselves and trying new things.

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

OK...all those non-spoiler-viewing people gone now?

The only ones left are those who don't care about spoilers?

All righty then. The book's ending comes about when Gil nearly drinks himself to death and ends up in rehab, just as Irene is planning to leave him and take the children. A few months later, the family is on a weekend lake vacation together; little insight is given into how they got to this point. But clearly the problems aren't solved, because after touching base with each child, Gil goes deeper into the lake than he should, deliberately. Irene watches him and finally realizes his intention, then jumps in after him.

A new section starts after that, told from the POV of their daughter Riel, who, we find out, has been the omniscient narrator all along. It turns out that both Irene and Gil died that day in the lake. Riel is the one who has been bequeathed the key to the safe deposit box, and she's the one who puts the whole story together.

This is problematic on a number of levels. The double deaths borders on melodramatic; finding out who's been narrating the book at the very end feels manipulative; the quick wrap-up of the kids' lives in the aftermath is too fast and to some degree, doesn't feel relevant. The story all along has really belonged to Gil and Irene, even though some of the book has focused on the kids. It's as if the last bit was tacked on in order to relieve the unrelenting grimness of the book itself.

And yet, Erdrich can write, there's never a doubt of that. I wouldn't have continued to the end if she hadn't drawn me through. This one is a tough call.

Asterios Polyp

Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli. Another one of Girl Detective's evil machinations to get me to respect graphic novels. Between this and Stitches, I have to capitulate. OK! All right! I get it! There's some seriously good shit going on in the graphic novel world!

Sheesh.

Asterios Polyp is the title character of this story, a pompous, egotistical professor and architect, whose life has somehow gone profoundly wrong. When the book opens, he's a sad sack watching porn in a crappy apartment when a bolt of lightning strikes and burns down the building. From there, we see how his past and present came to be.

The illustrations are gorgeous, with the past sections done in shades of blue, mauve and purple, while the present is in shades of purple and lightning gold. The story is deeply explored, and the narrator has an intelligent, sometimes wry point of view. At one point, he notes that while on a driving trip with his wife Hana, notices her knitting as he drives. "Ever since, he's thought of the distance as a matter of yarn-inches."

This is a thoughtful examination of one man's life, how he lived it, the consequences of his actions, and his effect on the people around him. It's lovely, both literally and as a reading experience.

Surely, though, Girl Detective, this is as good as it gets, right? Of course, that's saying something. Mazzucchelli sets the bar pretty darned high.

Wuthering Heights Wednesday

But first, some linky goodness.

There's been some discussion during this reading project as to how Emily Bronte came up with these characters and this storyline. Well, here's a site that's done no small of research into finding theories to answer those questions, as well as considerable research into all kinds of Wuthering Heights topics. 

On a lighter note, look! Bronte Sisters Action Dolls! Personally, I want the Brontesaurus. 

The more I keep reading this book, the more I think, gosh, Nelly Dean should have lived in a city. Just think the kind of court she'd keep, being the queen of gossip and moral opinions. Her audience would always be enthralled. Mr. Lockwood could not have come along at a better time--she's just about bursting with all these stories she has to tell.

And oh, she tells them grandly. Do you think she exaggerated some of her quotes, or are they burned into her memory?

"'Catherine Earnshaw, may yu not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you--haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live with my soul!'"

Let's face it--if Nelly Dean's report on Heathcliff's grief was, "Oh, how sad. She was so young" we just wouldn't have a story, would we?

Did anyone else take pause at this sentence: "'In my flight through the kitchen I bade Joseph speed to his master; I knocked over Hareton, who was hanging a litter of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway:'"

Hareton was doing what?

And, oh, Nelly, such self-deception you practice when you describe young Cathy as having "faults to foil her gifts. A propensity to be saucy was one; and a perverse will that indulged children invariably acquire, whether they be good tempered or cross. If a servant chanced to vex her, it was always: 'I shall tell papa!'"

Then follow this with a scene describing how Edgar must leave the Grange and specifically instructs Nelly that Cathy must not be allowed to leave the park, although Cathy has been showing more than a little interest in the world beyond her narrow boundaries. Gosh, Nelly, what on earth were you thinking when you began to grant her just a tad bit too much freedom to wander outdoors without you--did you really think that "perverse will" (that, and being Catherine's daughter) wouldn't possibly tempt her to break the rules and leave the property?

You just watch. Nelly will find a way to make herself complete responsibility-free of anything that happens.

That Nelly.

Stitches

Girl Detective has set out on a most determined course to convince me to read graphic novels. I am not really a visual person, and I like words, and aren't these graphic novels all just comic books anyway? Well, maybe there are one or two that are "one-offs", but overall, c'mon, they're not literature, right?

Stitches by David Small, is a gem of a book. It's a memoir of growing up in a dysfunctional family, but to slot it into that tired genre is grossly unfair. Small developed cancer as a child, probably due to his radiologist father's insistence on frequently x-raying him. The surgery to remove the cancer saved his life, but destroyed his vocal cords. That, and his family, obviously played a huge role in the way his life unfolded.

But this is where the illustrations make this book rise above the "poor me" memoir genre. His parents, especially his mother, are cruel, ugly caricatures, and yet by book's end, you know more about them, enough to feel the pain they must have gone through in their own lives.

Best of all, David himself is often drawn as a close cousin to Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes. He sulks and glowers, frustrated by the lack of interest and understanding shown by the grownups in his life. The perspective he gains from being an adult himself and the distance of years hasn't allowed him to paint himself as a saint, but as a real child, with real struggles. It's as if he drew his parents as he remembers seeing them through his childish eyes, but also allows flashes of years-later understanding to occasionally alter the illustrations.

I feel like I'm not giving this book its proper due. It's lovely and touching without being maudlin. The illustrations are heartfelt, and it's hard to imagine the story being told as well without them.

OK, Girl Detective, you're weakening my resolve.

Passenger to Teheran

During the 15/15/15 Project, I read Vita Sackville-West's beautiful and brief book, Twelve Days in Persia. I noted then that I wanted to read more of her travel writing, when I wasn't quite as rushed as I was at that point. The time had come: I checked out Passenger to Teheran from the library.

Note: I did not have the above copy. I had a lovely old hardcopy, with a print date of 1927. Talk about a trip down memory lane. Here's how the book was stamped:

Minneapolis Athenaeum? Who knew?

Also, remember old-timey library markings?

Remember when librarians had to mark each book this way? Even inside the book, info had to notated by hand:

Fitting, really, because this is a very old-fashioned travel story about ways of life that no longer exist. Sackville-West was an amazing writer, very connected to the details around her, whether beautiful or horrific. She also had a wry sense of humor, as she gets right to business in the opening chapter:

"Travel is the most private of pleasures. There is no greater bore than the travel bore. We do not in the least want to hear what he has seen in Hong-Kong. Not only do we not want to hear it verbally, but we do not want--we do not really want, not if we are to achieve a degree of honesty greater than that within the reach of most civilised beings--to hear it by letter either. Possibly this is because there is something intrinsically wrong about letters. For one thing they are not instantaneous."

Right away you realize, if you didn't already know, this book was written long before wifi, email, texting, and Skype.

Sackville-West traveled what was a most arduous journey to Persia, going through Egypt and Iraq first, before arriving at her destination for a lengthy stay. While there, she apparently never gave up any opportunity to explore more deeply. She was far from being a "travel bore"; she rolled her eyes at other Europeans who preferred to clique together and tsk-tsk over the lack of British amenities, and instead sought out ways to see Persia from all angles, even if it meant interminable days on horseback or driving cars over obstacle-laden roads. The black-and-white photos she took illustrate her journey starkly, and there are lots of them. She traveled into small villages that barely recognize a car, and she was on hand for the crowning of the new Shah. Finally, her visit to Persia ended, and her return to Britain took a somewhat calamitous route through Russia and a strike- and protest-ridden Poland.

Granted, Sackville-West certainly had the means and the aristocratic background to attempt this sort of journey, but even so, it must have been incredibly courageous for her to take on an adventure like this. On the return, her plans are dashed by chaos in Poland, but by attaching herself to a retinue of Germans, she makes her way as far as Berlin, where she rests briefly and visits a restaurant where the staff, looking at her disheveled appearance, gave off a sense of mistrust. Not willing to let that slight go by unnoticed, she "revenged myself on them by sending for the head waiter, ordering the best dinner and the most expensive wine, and by distributing enormous tips out of my wad of American notes."

I can't help but think she would have been a hell of a lot of fun to travel with--unafraid, curious, and able to go with the flow.

Now, off to the library again, to see if they have any other of her travel memoirs.