New Century Reading

My Friend Dahmer

I know, I know--the idea of "graphic novel" and "Jeffrey Dahmer" in combination seems like a queasy choice at best. But My Friend Dahmer isn't graphic in terms of showing what Dahmer did--it's graphic in terms of looking at what might have caused him to become the infamous serial killer.

My Friend Dahmer is a true story, written and illustrated by one of Dahmer's high school classmates. "Friend" is perhaps overstating it, and maybe Backderf (the author) means it sarcastically. Dahmer seemed to have been a loner, and weird--surprised? Didn't think so--with some behavioral twists that made him occasionally a pal to Backderf and his crew. But sensing something not quite right with Dahmer, they kept him at arm's length.

This is such an interesting idea--the "I knew him when". Backderf has done additional background research to try and piece together behind-the-scenes history that he wouldn't have known as a teenager in order to provide more context.

He's also outraged, again and again: "Where were the adults?"

This is certainly a good question, and this is no justification, but in the 1970s, how many adults were paying attention to kids who were weird? He wasn't violent at school (mostly), he didn't threaten anyone. Today that loner status would possibly gain him some attention; certainly his increasing habit of skipping classes and drinking heavily would be noticed and addressed in most cases.

The question Backderf doesn't seem quite brave enough to address is: "Where were the friends?" He doesn't cover up how he and his friends used Dahmer for their amusement and then ignored him when it suited them, but he doesn't go to the next logical step: what if they'd done something? Said something? Asked an adult to pay attention?

I'm not blaming them. This is a horrendously complex and terrifying situation. But if he's going to accuse the adults of not stepping up at a time when the adults wouldn't normally be expected to (and he does note that everyone knew kids who had problems, or whose parents had problems, drinking, beating spouses or kids, etc., and no one talked about it), then he needs to take a harder look at his own role.

Again--I don't know that I would have done any differently.

It's a fascinating and very troubling book, a quick read. Perhaps most troubling: when Backderf's wife calls and says that someone from his high school class has just been accused of being a serial killer, he guesses who it might be--and guesses wrong.

Shelf Discovery

My friend Girl Detective has a really new fun reading project launching in June: we're going to read Lizzie Skurnick's Shelf Discovery, which covers the books we loved as teens/tweens, and then re-read some of those books. Or, as Girl Detective says, at least remember them, if not re-read them. You choose. Low stress, high fun factor. Just so you can get a taste of what you can choose to read from back in the, she published a list of the books covered in Skurnick's book over on her site here.

Me? I plan to revisit the ever-wonderful Harriet the Spy, see if I still like Judy Blume, and hopefully roar with laughter over the dreadful Flowers in the Attic. If my mother had any idea what that book was about, I'm pretty sure she would have been appalled.

The Master Blaster

Pop quiz: Saipan--what do you know about it?

I'd have failed my own quiz.

But thanks to P.F. Kluge's latest novel, The Master Blaster, I feel like I've learned a few things. Kluge notes at the end of the book that he's traveled to Saipan many times, starting with a Peace Corps stint. I can't vouch for his accuracy, not having been there, but Saipan as a place feels extremely real. And it feels like somewhere I might like to go, although Kluge doesn't sugarcoat the darker sides of the island and its population. To his credit.

The Master Blaster alternates chapters told from the point of view of the Master Blaster himself, who runs a furtive website exposing the darker edges of life in Saipan; George Griffin, jaded travel writer; Stephanie Warner, a college professor who takes a place at the College of the Islands on a whim after separating from her husband; Mel Brodie, on "assignment" (read: hiding) for a real estate broker; and Khan, a Bangladeshi man who's come to look for work, but finds something else altogether (it's no spoiler to say that what he finds isn't an improvement on what he's looking for). All but the Master Blaster arrive in Saipan on the same plane, and their paths cross as the weeks and months go by, but each of their stories is completely individual, from George's growing fascination with the island (and the Master Blaster), to Stephanie's unexpected promotion, to Mel's "rescue" of some Russian call girls that makes him a local hero, to Khan's desperate search for a way to make a living. They're all flawed, they're all interesting, and by the end, I really cared about them.

Kluge tells a terrific tale, with a rapid pace, fully developed characters, and always manages to not quite veer into predictable territory. I hadn't read anything by him before, but turns out he's the author of a novel called Eddie and the Cruisers, which I didn't know preceded the movie, and the movie Dog Day Afternoon is based on his work as well, so he's no slouch.

So, yes, read this book. And now I want to read other books that he's written.

I interrupt this regularly scheduled broadcast

I don't post much personal stuff on this blog, but if you're at all curious about where I grew up or what's been going on in my life over the past crazy hectic year, I've posted about it over here.

In bookish news, once I finished with everything in that post, I was rewarded with not one, but two packages from the wonderful Persephone Books: Harriet by Elizabeth Jenkins and A Writer's Diary by Virginia Woolf. Let's hear it for books ordered on impulse and forgotten about, and then show up just when they can deliver the most cheer!

The Monsters of Templeton

You know what's kind of a bummer? When you read a book by a new-to-you author, and you're wild about it, so you go read her earlier book, and it's a book that, had you read it first, you would have been wild about too, but because you read it later, and it's not quite as good, you feel a little let down. Even though you did like it.

Such is my experience with Lauren Groff's The Monsters of Templeton. I loved her latest book, Arcadia. Had I not read that first, I think I would have closed the covers on this one with much more satisfaction. Groff is an amazing writer, with language both beautiful and serving to the story she's writing. She draws characters wonderfully and believably.

Templeton is the story of Willie Upton, a grad student who returns home to Templeton, NY (a fictional version of Cooperstown) in disgrace, pregnant with her married lover's (and grad program advisor's) child. Her mother was a single mother all her life; Willie grew up with a hippie for a mom, but these days, mom has become a born-again. And if that's not enough, some kind of enormous sea monster was found dead in the town's Lake Glimmerglass.

Willie is despondent about her future prospects, and when her mother casually mentions that she might have not told Willie the truth about her father, Willie takes up the distraction of trying to sleuth out exactly who is her father.

Her historical research turns up generations of colorful characters. Groff gives us chapters from their points of view, and they're rollicking, revealing, and amazingly character-driven for such a large cast. But for me, the narrative started losing steam about halfway through, and I found myself thinking, do I really care who Willie's father is? Unfortunately, the answer was no. I loved reading the stories from the ancestors, but ultimately there were so many, and the family tree became so convoluted (Groff does include graphics to try and help) that my enjoyment waned. To me, Groff lost control--it's a huge undertaking to manage such a back-and-forth timeline, so many characters, so many plot lines. In the end, the thrust of the story should always keep the reader hooked. Not me. Unlike Arcadia, which covers many years and several characters (but with a primary narrator) and enthralled me from beginning to end, this felt a little messier.

Still, I'm glad I read it. I wish I'd read it before Arcadia. But boy, do I ever look forward to her next book.