TEN THOUSAND SAINTS; THE OTHER WES MOORE; YOU DESERVE NOTHING; WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT ANNE FRANK

Time to make the doughnuts. At least four books I haven’t yet posted here. Maybe more, but I’ve forgotten what they are.

TEN THOUSAND SAINTS by Eleanor Henderson

You got me at the setting, time period and subject matter: The offspring of the hippie generation struggle to come of age in NY and Vermont, in the late 80s. But you lost me in the telling of it. Great reviews… but a snooze of a read.

THE OTHER WES MOORE by Wes Moore (duh).

Ditto. Interesting concept, but I fell off in the telling. Author Wes Moore is a Rhodes scholar and type-A success; his namesake is in prison for murder. Author reaches out to convict. They have many things in common. There but for the grace, etc. The author is going to be the graduation speaker for my 8^th grade students this year… I want to sell this one to them, but I can’t.

YOU DESERVE NOTHING by Alexander Maksik

You got me at the setting and subject matter: English teacher in an international school in Paris. You held me in the telling. Not up there with Tobias Wolfe’s OLD SCHOOL, but a keen and sometimes lyrical look at teachers and their students. Nicely done. Worth the read.

WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT ANNE FRANK by Nathan Englander

Englander rocks. This new collection of stories may be uneven, but the guy is totally brilliant. One of our best contemporary writers, IMHO. Does he translate for non-Jews? I’m not sure. Go read him and let me know.

BOSSYPANTS by Tina Fey

Lots of good laugh lines. Feminist and funny--an excellent pairing. But not much of a center as far as the overall shape of the book goes.

LOVE ADDICT by Ethlie Ann Vare

Yeh, yeh... Mr. Recent Ex is in there, I'm in there, ex-hubby's in there... Does reading this stuff help the painful process of looking in the mirror? Perhaps. But as far as this unhealthy relationship addict shit goes, I had far more fun seeing two exhibits at MoMA by two woman-addicts par excellence, DeKooning and Diego Rivera. Next up, McQueen, Fassbender-->Shame. VOGLIO UNA DONNA!!!

STATE OF WONDER by Ann Patchett

Meh. Loved Patchett's memoir about her friendship with Lucy Grealy, and as always, she spins a good yarn... but this one is really yarn-y. Just didn't buy the plot, and couldn't make the leap of faith.

THE LOST MEMORY OF SKIN by Russell Banks

What happens when political correctness gives rise to zero tolerance and zero compassion?

Many of the reviews I’ve read of this book call the protagonist impossible to sympathize with, and the subject matter nearly too disturbing to touch. I disagree. At the heart of the novel is a loner of young man, a convicted sex offender, who has been thrown out of the garden. Banks writes about human urges, about sanctimony, about compassion. His ear and eye are finely tuned to contemporary American language and culture, and his imagery is spot-on. He turns out a beautifully-crafted plot, except perhaps in the final chapters of the book where he goes a little Hollyrock (as he did in Rule of the Bone). Important and a great read.

Kitchen Confidential, Gatsby, The Marriage Plot

After several months of underwhelming reading and personal hurdles better left for my nonexistent personal blog, I'm back in the saddle, um, armchair, um, something, with a book.

First up this fall, Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential--fun, breezy, and dangerous to the waistline; I ate my way through this book and enjoyed it.

Next, The Great Gatsby, which I suppose I read somewhere along the way, but which I remembered nothing at all about, except what I gleaned from a high school paper my son wrote a couple of years ago. While there are some lines that stopped me in my tracks, I couldn't help thinking that this slender novel wouldn't make the cut today. Even if one were to allow for the sexism of a book written in 1925, the characters are two-dimensional, and the plot doesn't really get going until the middle of the book. I'm not one of those folks who thinks we should reject the cannon just because of the Dead White Male factor. But why do we keep something on our syllabi when there's better literature out there?

Most recent read was Jeffrey Eugenides' The Marriage Plot. I adored The Virgin Suicides, and very much liked Middlesex (though I thought it needed an editor to help with some bloat and meandering). Marriage, however, was clunky and sophmoric. (Actually, the protagonists are seniors in college, and as the novel progresses, recent graduates.) I'm still not sure what the book was about--a kind of love triangle of young folk, perhaps? Feels written from a distance, by someone who has left those days long behind him. I'll be reading more of Eugenides, but this one didn't do it for me.

Personal crap = lethargy = what have I read lately?

No doubt I'm missing a whole bunch of books. Here's what I can remember reading so far, this summer. It must be that I'm way cranky... because of the five I can call up, I loved only one of them, and didn't much care for the other four.

A VISIT FROM THE GOON SQUAD by Jennifer Egan:
Pulitzer prize? Really?? A couple months down the road, and I can't remember what it was about. (Clearly my problem and not Egan's... but... just saying...) Remember enjoying it well enough, but thinking it didn't hold a candle to a number of other recent novels-via-linked-short-story oeuvres. (See my earlier and more cogent blog post on these.) Methinks Egan sorta, kinda smacks of the very clever but self-conscious literary pyrotechnics by those guys who are so trendy right now--Franzen (earlier blog post) et al... and they're, well, men... and so the Pulitzer to, um, let's find the woman who's writing like those literary luminaries du jour. Hey... I liked GOON SQUAD. But I didn't love it.

THE UNCOUPLING by Meg Wolitzer:
My own Mr. Uncoupling gave this book to me for our first uncoupled anniversary, after 32 coupled ones... sweet of him... and it's got a cute conceit--a modern day Lysistrata--but Wolitzer doesn't dig very deeply with this spoon.

BLUE HIGHWAYS by William Least Heat-Moon:
Considered a classic road trip book in the tradition of ON THE ROAD... the first 15 or 20 pages read like you're watching him highlight the route on a fusty, old map... first I went here, and then I went here, and then... and his language is a little too precious and pretty for me. Franky (my dear), I was bored. (Again, probably my problem and not Heat-Moon's.) Perhaps personal crap brings on a little ADHD... I didn't have the stamina to see if it gets better.

NATASHA by David Bezmozgis:
Yea!!! New best author! Poignant and sarcastic and funny and tender all at the same time. Economy of language; great images; sharp turns of phrase that I had to stop and read again; beautiful characters. Short stories about a family of Latvian Jewish immigrants in Toronto, with a teenage protagonist who Bezmozgis, in an interview, churlishly protesteth is not him... but is. Whatever. The guy can write.

SWAMPLANDIA! by Karen Russell:
Halfway through it. She's no Katherine Dunn.