How not to write a booklog
Dec. 18th, 2009 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneMore reviews, written by 200%drunker!Trin. This may be accidentally amusing.
91. How Not to Write a Novel, Howard Mittelmark & Sandra Newman — I remember this book being funny, but not what any of its authors’ advice (or anti-advice) was. But then, I don’t believe you can really learn how (not) to write from a book—you have to do it. When you’re taking a break from that, though, this book is good for a laugh.
92. The Family Man, Elinor Lipman — Really disappointing. Lipman’s The Inn at Lake Devine is possibly my favorite “chick lit” novel ever—it’s witty and charming and romantic and actually about something. The Family Man, in contrast, is a big messy nothing. When it first came out I heard people praise Lipman for—gasp!—writing from the perspective of a gay man, which, um. Whoopdedo? The plot she sticks him with, however, is ludicrous, and the whole book is all tell and no show. I didn’t like anybody, I wasn’t amused, and the supposedly romantic ending (which does not involve the romantic prospects of the gay protagonist, FYI, but rather of his straight daughter) struck me as appallingly unpleasant. What the hell happened?
93. Summer Blonde, Adrian Tomine — Beautifully drawn and psychologically rich book of graphic novellas. While there are tales of young male romantic woe in here, Tomine isn’t afraid to put women front and center, too, and he writes his female protagonists just as well as his more genre-typical lovesick dudes. Impressive.
94. Good Omens, Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett — I love you, Crowley. I love you, Aziraphale. I love you Adam and Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale and Anathema and Newt. <3, Trin
P.S. Terry and Neil: Eric Kripke so owes you a fruit basket.
95. The Housekeeper and the Professor, Yoko Ogawa — Quietly touching novel about a young woman and her son who befriend a genius mathematician who, due to a tragic accident, has only 80 minutes of memory. A quick read, simply told, this book is nevertheless almost hypnotic and, like Ogawa's The Diving Pool, has an eerie staying power. I hope more of Ogawa's books are translated into English soon!
96. Tales From Outer Suburbia, Shaun Tan — With his gorgeously detailed, surrealist art, Shaun Tan has the ability to make the ordinary strange, and the everyday beautiful. In the series of graphic vignettes that makes up Tales From Outer Suburbia, Tan offers a peek into a place that's like a Bizarro-world version of our own, a place where a tiny leaf-like alien might come to live with one's family as a foreign exchange student, a water buffalo living in a vacant lot may be the best source of advice, and men in old-fashioned diving suits or silent stick-figure creatures wander the streets. For mature-thinking kids, as well as adults young and not-so-, this unique book opens up a whole universe to get lost in—as well as new ways of looking at our own.
97. Good-Bye, Chunky Rice, Craig Thompson — Cute, quirky (possibly too quirky) graphic novel that also has a nice note of melancholy to it. And that’s really all I remember. So: cute, quirky (possibly too quirky), somewhat melancholy, and not all that memorable. Oh well.
98. City of Thieves, David Benioff — Wonderfully exciting, old-school adventure novel set amidst the siege of Leningrad during WWII. This is the type of book that reads like a movie, moving swiftly from excellent set piece to excellent set piece. The characters are types, but they are hugely enjoyable and sympathetic types, and their relationships with each other hit almost all the right notes. (Cute flirtation between the male lead and the awesome kickass female resistance fighter! Intense slashiness between aforementioned male lead and his cocky, snarky best friend!) I wish the ending hadn't played out exactly as I expected it to (while secretly hoping to be surprised), but I nevertheless had a blast reading this—as I expect anyone would.
99. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows — God, do I ever hate the title of this novel. First, it’s long and unwieldy—I hate having to say it, and having listen to customers say it, and worse, having to listen to customers mis-say it (though customers will get easy titles wrong too: no we do not have On the Go by Jack Kerouac), and then having to decide whether or not I should be a Ted and correct them. And then to make matters worse, it has the word “society” in it. Um, executive decision: no more titles with clubs or societies in them, please. Steve Hely parodied this in How I Became a Famous Novelist; the trend seriously needs to end now.
All that said: I was surprised by how much I liked this novel. Yes, it’s a little too precious at times, and Juliet, the protagonist, was a little too too to be believed—but after the first thirty pages or so, I found myself genuinely caught up in the story. The history of the Channel Islands during World War II is incredibly interesting, and even if I am, in real life, skeptical of the type of community this novel depicts, within the context of the book, I wanted to believe in it. Unlike a lot of the bestsellers I read just because all my customers are asking about them, I was truly glad I read this one, and that says a lot.
100. Hellblazer: Dangerous Habits, Garth Ennis — Reread in hopes that it help me work out the kinks in the big Mary Winchester fic I am constantly plotting in my head. This is still maybe my favorite John Constantine storyline—twisted and clever. Too bad the art's so bloody ugly, though.
Total Reviews: 100/196
91. How Not to Write a Novel, Howard Mittelmark & Sandra Newman — I remember this book being funny, but not what any of its authors’ advice (or anti-advice) was. But then, I don’t believe you can really learn how (not) to write from a book—you have to do it. When you’re taking a break from that, though, this book is good for a laugh.
92. The Family Man, Elinor Lipman — Really disappointing. Lipman’s The Inn at Lake Devine is possibly my favorite “chick lit” novel ever—it’s witty and charming and romantic and actually about something. The Family Man, in contrast, is a big messy nothing. When it first came out I heard people praise Lipman for—gasp!—writing from the perspective of a gay man, which, um. Whoopdedo? The plot she sticks him with, however, is ludicrous, and the whole book is all tell and no show. I didn’t like anybody, I wasn’t amused, and the supposedly romantic ending (which does not involve the romantic prospects of the gay protagonist, FYI, but rather of his straight daughter) struck me as appallingly unpleasant. What the hell happened?
93. Summer Blonde, Adrian Tomine — Beautifully drawn and psychologically rich book of graphic novellas. While there are tales of young male romantic woe in here, Tomine isn’t afraid to put women front and center, too, and he writes his female protagonists just as well as his more genre-typical lovesick dudes. Impressive.
94. Good Omens, Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett — I love you, Crowley. I love you, Aziraphale. I love you Adam and Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale and Anathema and Newt. <3, Trin
P.S. Terry and Neil: Eric Kripke so owes you a fruit basket.
95. The Housekeeper and the Professor, Yoko Ogawa — Quietly touching novel about a young woman and her son who befriend a genius mathematician who, due to a tragic accident, has only 80 minutes of memory. A quick read, simply told, this book is nevertheless almost hypnotic and, like Ogawa's The Diving Pool, has an eerie staying power. I hope more of Ogawa's books are translated into English soon!
96. Tales From Outer Suburbia, Shaun Tan — With his gorgeously detailed, surrealist art, Shaun Tan has the ability to make the ordinary strange, and the everyday beautiful. In the series of graphic vignettes that makes up Tales From Outer Suburbia, Tan offers a peek into a place that's like a Bizarro-world version of our own, a place where a tiny leaf-like alien might come to live with one's family as a foreign exchange student, a water buffalo living in a vacant lot may be the best source of advice, and men in old-fashioned diving suits or silent stick-figure creatures wander the streets. For mature-thinking kids, as well as adults young and not-so-, this unique book opens up a whole universe to get lost in—as well as new ways of looking at our own.
97. Good-Bye, Chunky Rice, Craig Thompson — Cute, quirky (possibly too quirky) graphic novel that also has a nice note of melancholy to it. And that’s really all I remember. So: cute, quirky (possibly too quirky), somewhat melancholy, and not all that memorable. Oh well.
98. City of Thieves, David Benioff — Wonderfully exciting, old-school adventure novel set amidst the siege of Leningrad during WWII. This is the type of book that reads like a movie, moving swiftly from excellent set piece to excellent set piece. The characters are types, but they are hugely enjoyable and sympathetic types, and their relationships with each other hit almost all the right notes. (Cute flirtation between the male lead and the awesome kickass female resistance fighter! Intense slashiness between aforementioned male lead and his cocky, snarky best friend!) I wish the ending hadn't played out exactly as I expected it to (while secretly hoping to be surprised), but I nevertheless had a blast reading this—as I expect anyone would.
99. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows — God, do I ever hate the title of this novel. First, it’s long and unwieldy—I hate having to say it, and having listen to customers say it, and worse, having to listen to customers mis-say it (though customers will get easy titles wrong too: no we do not have On the Go by Jack Kerouac), and then having to decide whether or not I should be a Ted and correct them. And then to make matters worse, it has the word “society” in it. Um, executive decision: no more titles with clubs or societies in them, please. Steve Hely parodied this in How I Became a Famous Novelist; the trend seriously needs to end now.
All that said: I was surprised by how much I liked this novel. Yes, it’s a little too precious at times, and Juliet, the protagonist, was a little too too to be believed—but after the first thirty pages or so, I found myself genuinely caught up in the story. The history of the Channel Islands during World War II is incredibly interesting, and even if I am, in real life, skeptical of the type of community this novel depicts, within the context of the book, I wanted to believe in it. Unlike a lot of the bestsellers I read just because all my customers are asking about them, I was truly glad I read this one, and that says a lot.
100. Hellblazer: Dangerous Habits, Garth Ennis — Reread in hopes that it help me work out the kinks in the big Mary Winchester fic I am constantly plotting in my head. This is still maybe my favorite John Constantine storyline—twisted and clever. Too bad the art's so bloody ugly, though.
Total Reviews: 100/196
