trinityofone (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trinityofone) wrote2008-12-22 09:57 am
trinityofone) wrote2008-12-22 09:57 am
Entry tags:
Einstein's booklog
Why do I get the feeling I'm not any closer to finishing this?
221. Re-Gifters, Mike Carey — The story of a relatably cranky teenage Korean-American girl who’s trying to win a martial arts tournament—and the boy of her dreams. This is not your typical Mike Carey (perhaps best-known for Lucifer and his run on Hellblazer) graphic novel. It is, however, much better than the supernatural/horror novels he’s been cranking out lately. It features loads of humor, a cute interracial romance, and girls kicking ass—literally. I only wish Carey could have brought this much energy and life to his Felix Castor books.
222. N.P., Banana Yoshimoto — Banana Yoshimoto features on a lot of Japanese literature recommendations lists. My theory is that these reccers just like the idea of endorsing an author whose (assumed) name is Banana. Because wow, this book was awful. College creative writing class awful, by which I mean trying really hard to be edgy, but in fact incompetent. Yoshimoto throws a lot of ingredients into the pot: suicide! Incest! Faux lesbianism! But she doesn’t do anything with any of them—just leaves them to ostentatiously simmer, as if to say, “Do you see what I’m cooking with here? I’ve got people offing themselves, and some Flowers in the Attic action, and women who might, maybe, like to experiment! Aren’t I extreme?”
I should have known that anybody who decides to call herself “Banana” would be trying too hard.
223. South of the Border, West of the Sun, Haruki Murakami — A slighter Murakami novel, both in length and in scope. This one shares some elements with Norwegian Wood (and with quite a lot of Murakami’s work, actually); most specifically: the mysterious girl who got away. This didn’t move me, didn’t capture me and hold me captive quite like Norwegian Wood did, but the atmosphere and imagery are still incredible. The descriptions of Hajime’s jazz bars, in particular, got to me: I felt like I was outside in the rain, nose pressed to the glass, just a step or two from being able to go in.
224. Six Tales of the Jazz Age and Other Stories, F. Scott Fitzgerald — The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite novels of all time, so I was kind of bummed to find this collection of short stories—the first examples of Fitzgerald’s short fiction I’ve read since high school—rather underwhelming. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood, but nothing in here electrified me the way Gatsby does, and I began to feel sodden from such a deluge of stories about unpleasant women. Poor Scott; your issues are showing, man.
It was interesting to read “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” in light of the movie coming out soon. The story is one of the least romantic things I’ve ever read—anti-romantic, possibly. Somehow I don’t think the film will be sticking too close to the original…
225. Downtown Owl, Chuck Klosterman — Even though I enjoy Klosterman’s nonfiction, I did not have high hopes for his first novel, as the only other example of his fiction I’ve seen—the short story that closes Chuck Klosterman IV—was pretty weak. Unusually, and delightfully, my expectations were far surpassed. In Downtown Owl, Klosterman brings (back) to life a small North Dakota town in the early ’80s. His observations seem pitch-perfect to me (at least based on my own experiences in a small Vermont town in the mid ’90s), and the book is frequently hilarious—Klosterman’s snarky prose can work in a fiction format! Yay!
The book’s ending does make me want to kill him a little, but in a good way. Mostly.
226. Sammy’s House, Kristin Gore — The sequel to Sammy’s Hill, and kind of a downer. Sammy’s boss RG has become Vice President, but thanks to the president’s vices, scandal and political strife are waiting just around the corner. Sound familiar? Gore’s clearly working out her (justifiable) anger toward a certain BC here, and a lot of the passages have a bit of a “oooh, burn!” quality to them. The book is still humorous, and Sammy is still an unusual and delightful protagonist, but it’s just way less fun to read about a Democratic administration in peril than it is to read about a bunch of Democratic upstarts taking the White House. There are some weird pacing problems, too: movie stars! Lesbians! Twists that come out of nowhere, only to disappear in a flash! But at the most basic level…remember what the last few seasons of The West Wing were like? I only got through that because I knew Josh and Donna would be making out by the end. There is, sadly, not a similar carrot to be dangled here.
277. Flight, Sherman Alexie — I’m having a hard time figuring out how I feel about this book. The POV is great—Zits, the troubled half-Native American narrator, bounds out of his foster home and gets in your face. And the plot, which follows him as he comits a horrific act of violence, then gets sent bouncing around through time to other tumultuous points, is inescapably compelling. But I felt that in some ways Alexie is skating on the surface of the horror of this cycle of violence. Both the reader and Zits are jerked around so quickly that I kind of feel like everyone is let off too easily. White people—who are described as “beautiful” in this book with disturbing frequency—are given much too much of a free pass for what was, let’s face it, genocide. Maybe this is my liberal guilt overriding critical capacity, but…
This was still a really interesting book and I’m glad I read it. I should probably read more of Alexie’s work; it would likely give me insight into the themes he’s discussing here.
228. Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami — Another nameless narrator, another mysterious girl who got away, a lot more unrequited love. And yet there were two things that really made this one stand out for me, even beyond Murakami’s beautiful and evocative prose. The first is how funny the beginning is: Sumire is hilarious and awesome (before things get all angstified) and I can totally see why K. is in love with her. The second is Miu’s story about the Ferris wheel. I don’t want to spoil it here, but it’s one of the most eerie and amazing things I’ve come across in any Murakami book so far—or in a lot of my reading, period. This is one I’ll want to reread.
229. Einstein’s Dreams, Alan Lightman — A series of short, fantastical essays about the nature of time, looped together with a framing device that suggests that these are the dreams Einstein had while he was working on the Theory of Relativity. The various interpretations of time are very cool—and will not be entirely unfamiliar to you if you read/watch as much silly sci-fi as I do—but this is not a novel. I know I am being Senorita Crankypants here, but it’s just not. Nifty, yes. A novel, no. I’m not sure whose editorial decision it was to brand this “EINSTEIN’S DREAMS: A NOVEL,” but to them I say, “In what alternate universe?” Ha!
This mature analysis of a work of theoretical physics is brought to you by too much caffeine and my worthless English degree.
230. Both Sides of Time, Caroline B. Cooney — Oh, the ridiculous time travel melodrama of my youth! This was actually better than I remembered. Yes, Annie and Strat do find TRUE LOVE at FIRST SIGHT, and yes, the ending’s a bit abrupt and not terribly well set-up. But I liked that Cooney kept this away from being total fluff by emphasizing how hard it would have been to be a woman—of any class—in the 19th century. Wow, books for teenage girls used to actually have empowering, feminist messages in them? Too bad that’s gone out of style. *coughTwilightyesIstillhaveissuescough*
Though I remember pretty distinctly reading this when I was 12, I never read the sequels. (Maybe our tiny town library didn’t have them?) I intend to remedy that now.
Total Reviews: 230/276
221. Re-Gifters, Mike Carey — The story of a relatably cranky teenage Korean-American girl who’s trying to win a martial arts tournament—and the boy of her dreams. This is not your typical Mike Carey (perhaps best-known for Lucifer and his run on Hellblazer) graphic novel. It is, however, much better than the supernatural/horror novels he’s been cranking out lately. It features loads of humor, a cute interracial romance, and girls kicking ass—literally. I only wish Carey could have brought this much energy and life to his Felix Castor books.
222. N.P., Banana Yoshimoto — Banana Yoshimoto features on a lot of Japanese literature recommendations lists. My theory is that these reccers just like the idea of endorsing an author whose (assumed) name is Banana. Because wow, this book was awful. College creative writing class awful, by which I mean trying really hard to be edgy, but in fact incompetent. Yoshimoto throws a lot of ingredients into the pot: suicide! Incest! Faux lesbianism! But she doesn’t do anything with any of them—just leaves them to ostentatiously simmer, as if to say, “Do you see what I’m cooking with here? I’ve got people offing themselves, and some Flowers in the Attic action, and women who might, maybe, like to experiment! Aren’t I extreme?”
I should have known that anybody who decides to call herself “Banana” would be trying too hard.
223. South of the Border, West of the Sun, Haruki Murakami — A slighter Murakami novel, both in length and in scope. This one shares some elements with Norwegian Wood (and with quite a lot of Murakami’s work, actually); most specifically: the mysterious girl who got away. This didn’t move me, didn’t capture me and hold me captive quite like Norwegian Wood did, but the atmosphere and imagery are still incredible. The descriptions of Hajime’s jazz bars, in particular, got to me: I felt like I was outside in the rain, nose pressed to the glass, just a step or two from being able to go in.
224. Six Tales of the Jazz Age and Other Stories, F. Scott Fitzgerald — The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite novels of all time, so I was kind of bummed to find this collection of short stories—the first examples of Fitzgerald’s short fiction I’ve read since high school—rather underwhelming. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood, but nothing in here electrified me the way Gatsby does, and I began to feel sodden from such a deluge of stories about unpleasant women. Poor Scott; your issues are showing, man.
It was interesting to read “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” in light of the movie coming out soon. The story is one of the least romantic things I’ve ever read—anti-romantic, possibly. Somehow I don’t think the film will be sticking too close to the original…
225. Downtown Owl, Chuck Klosterman — Even though I enjoy Klosterman’s nonfiction, I did not have high hopes for his first novel, as the only other example of his fiction I’ve seen—the short story that closes Chuck Klosterman IV—was pretty weak. Unusually, and delightfully, my expectations were far surpassed. In Downtown Owl, Klosterman brings (back) to life a small North Dakota town in the early ’80s. His observations seem pitch-perfect to me (at least based on my own experiences in a small Vermont town in the mid ’90s), and the book is frequently hilarious—Klosterman’s snarky prose can work in a fiction format! Yay!
The book’s ending does make me want to kill him a little, but in a good way. Mostly.
226. Sammy’s House, Kristin Gore — The sequel to Sammy’s Hill, and kind of a downer. Sammy’s boss RG has become Vice President, but thanks to the president’s vices, scandal and political strife are waiting just around the corner. Sound familiar? Gore’s clearly working out her (justifiable) anger toward a certain BC here, and a lot of the passages have a bit of a “oooh, burn!” quality to them. The book is still humorous, and Sammy is still an unusual and delightful protagonist, but it’s just way less fun to read about a Democratic administration in peril than it is to read about a bunch of Democratic upstarts taking the White House. There are some weird pacing problems, too: movie stars! Lesbians! Twists that come out of nowhere, only to disappear in a flash! But at the most basic level…remember what the last few seasons of The West Wing were like? I only got through that because I knew Josh and Donna would be making out by the end. There is, sadly, not a similar carrot to be dangled here.
277. Flight, Sherman Alexie — I’m having a hard time figuring out how I feel about this book. The POV is great—Zits, the troubled half-Native American narrator, bounds out of his foster home and gets in your face. And the plot, which follows him as he comits a horrific act of violence, then gets sent bouncing around through time to other tumultuous points, is inescapably compelling. But I felt that in some ways Alexie is skating on the surface of the horror of this cycle of violence. Both the reader and Zits are jerked around so quickly that I kind of feel like everyone is let off too easily. White people—who are described as “beautiful” in this book with disturbing frequency—are given much too much of a free pass for what was, let’s face it, genocide. Maybe this is my liberal guilt overriding critical capacity, but…
This was still a really interesting book and I’m glad I read it. I should probably read more of Alexie’s work; it would likely give me insight into the themes he’s discussing here.
228. Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami — Another nameless narrator, another mysterious girl who got away, a lot more unrequited love. And yet there were two things that really made this one stand out for me, even beyond Murakami’s beautiful and evocative prose. The first is how funny the beginning is: Sumire is hilarious and awesome (before things get all angstified) and I can totally see why K. is in love with her. The second is Miu’s story about the Ferris wheel. I don’t want to spoil it here, but it’s one of the most eerie and amazing things I’ve come across in any Murakami book so far—or in a lot of my reading, period. This is one I’ll want to reread.
229. Einstein’s Dreams, Alan Lightman — A series of short, fantastical essays about the nature of time, looped together with a framing device that suggests that these are the dreams Einstein had while he was working on the Theory of Relativity. The various interpretations of time are very cool—and will not be entirely unfamiliar to you if you read/watch as much silly sci-fi as I do—but this is not a novel. I know I am being Senorita Crankypants here, but it’s just not. Nifty, yes. A novel, no. I’m not sure whose editorial decision it was to brand this “EINSTEIN’S DREAMS: A NOVEL,” but to them I say, “In what alternate universe?” Ha!
This mature analysis of a work of theoretical physics is brought to you by too much caffeine and my worthless English degree.
230. Both Sides of Time, Caroline B. Cooney — Oh, the ridiculous time travel melodrama of my youth! This was actually better than I remembered. Yes, Annie and Strat do find TRUE LOVE at FIRST SIGHT, and yes, the ending’s a bit abrupt and not terribly well set-up. But I liked that Cooney kept this away from being total fluff by emphasizing how hard it would have been to be a woman—of any class—in the 19th century. Wow, books for teenage girls used to actually have empowering, feminist messages in them? Too bad that’s gone out of style. *coughTwilightyesIstillhaveissuescough*
Though I remember pretty distinctly reading this when I was 12, I never read the sequels. (Maybe our tiny town library didn’t have them?) I intend to remedy that now.
Total Reviews: 230/276
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I loved The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (audiobook! read by the author!) so yeah, I would totally recommend that for more on the cycles of crappiness (edit: and on trying to escape said cycles, and on maintaining one's identity while doing so).
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I'm loving these reviews. =)
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And I'm so glad you're enjoying them. :)
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