Booklog: Gone to Texas
Jan. 3rd, 2010 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofone131. Player Piano, Kurt Vonnegut — This is Vonnegut's first novel, and it's likely to be a disappointment to those familiar with his later work. Lacking many of his later innovations (and all traces of the lovely meta), it's a much more traditional, straight-up sci-fi tale—and one that's way too long and slow-paced, at that. Vonnegut's treatments of his female characters is unusually bad, too: even setting aside the nasty, shrill wife, Anita, are we really supposed to believe that, in a future society where social standing is based almost entirely on IQ, women can only make it into "polite society" by marrying a smart man? Yuck. I expect better.
132. Reservation Blues, Sherman Alexie — Imagine that Robert Johnson never died, but instead wandered the earth before winding up on the Spokane Indian Reservation in the ’90s. There he passes his enchanted/cursed guitar on to Thomas Builds-the-Fire, launching a series of chance meetings, assorted road trips, and an amazing explosion of music. This is the Sherman Alexie novel I’ve been wanting to read! It’s his first, but it holds together much better than the later Flight, and it’s funny and lyrical and hopeful and tragic. Alexie employs magical realism in a manner I really like, keeping the story grounded in his characters the entire time. What a wonderful, exhilarating book.
133. The Napoleon of Notting Hill, G.K. Chesterton — If I could think of a non-creepy way to send this book to Misha Collins, I would do so in an instant. Like The Man Who Was Thursday, it’s darkly comic and brilliant, but in a way that feels separate and fresh from the later book. This novel follows what happens when a man who cares only to maximize his amusement is made King of England, and treats this appointment entirely as one great joke. As one can imagine, things get someone out of hand, and the results are both hilarious and horrifying. As they would likely be if Misha Collins actually managed to kid his way into taking over the world.
Is it my civic duty to figure out a way to press these pages into his hands? Quite possibly.
134. Preacher: Gone to Texas, Garth Ennis — Reread. Jesus, what the fuck was I doing reading this when I was 16? If anything, it's more gruesome and fucked up than I remember. Nevertheless, it's still really good. And the parallels between this and the current storyline on Supernatural are hilarious. I'd forgotten the seemingly obvious tidbit that Jesse calls Cassidy "Cass." Um. MOST AWKWARD CROSSOVER EVER.
Seriously, though, just like I don't actually want the Good Omens characters anywhere near SPN, I don't want the SPN characters anywhere near this 'verse. It is too perverse even for them. Some of this shit would make Alastair cry.
135. Netherland, Joseph O’Neill — President Obama endorsed this book! To mark this momentous occasion, Random House helpfully sent us a roll of stickers to press lovingly onto our stock’s covers. “‘Fascinating... A wonderful book.’ — President Barack Obama.” As these stickers make no mention of the title or author, I of course seized the opportunity to abscond with a half dozen or so. I plan to stick them on other books that strike my fancy, including, of course, my own—if the Blue Fairy ever comes along and makes it a Real Book.
My mind wandered over these assorted fantasies quite a bit while I was reading Netherland. It’s not a bad book, but it never grabbed me with anything like the vigor that had me snatching up those stickers. In many ways, it’s an update of The Great Gatsby to a post-9/11 world, but it lacks Gatsby’s passion. O’Neill is very clever in his reinvention of Fitzgerald’s story, making its modern version about immigration and race, and also cricket. I was intrigued by the dreams and exploits of Chuck Ramkissoon, but I found the narration of Hans cold and bland and at times even a bit turgid. Nick Carraway keeps himself at a remove, I suppose, but Fitzgerald’s lively prose sizzles while O’Neill’s staid, literary style failed to move me. Don’t get me wrong: I’m still glad I read this book. But while it engaged my brain, it failed to capture my heart.
136. The Manual of Detection, Jedediah Berry — Boring, vaguely Borgian mystery. This paled especially in comparison to the G.K. Chesterton I'd just read; it has none of The Man Who Was Thursday's wit. You should read that instead.
137. Twenty Fragments of a Ravenous Youth, Xiaolu Guo — It really is as fragmentary as the title suggests, but while this book doesn’t create a complete portrait, it does provide many fascinating glimpses into modern China. The perspective of Fenfang—a young, somewhat naive country girl who moves to Beijing to seek her fortune—is vivid and fresh. This was like a wonderful appetizer; I can’t wait to read some of Guo’s—likely more mature and complete—later work.
138. Humans, Donald E. Westlake — This came out just a couple of years after Good Omens, but rather than enduring has instead faded into out-of-print obscurity. It’s easy to see why. While there are some interesting bits, particularly in the arc of the angel Ananayel—who was sent to Earth to bring about the destruction of humanity, but might, just possibly, wind up changing his mind—Westlake’s apocalypse is rather a muddle compared to Gaiman’s and Pratchett’s, and his human characters are significantly less compelling. The women and the people of color are, in particular, treated shoddily, and even most of Ananayel’s potentially interesting emotional beats happen off screen. Plus it’s just nowhere near as clever or funny. Essentially, it comes down to this: I own four copies of Good Omens and reread it every year; I already gave my copy of Humans away.
139. The Authority: Under New Management, Warren Ellis — I’ve read Transmetropolitan, and you, sir, are no Transmetropolitan! Oh well.
140. The Dark Horse Book of the Dead, Ed. by Scott Allie — Do I remember a single graphic short story from this collection? I don’t think I do. Always a fabulous sign, that.
Total Reviews: 140/210
132. Reservation Blues, Sherman Alexie — Imagine that Robert Johnson never died, but instead wandered the earth before winding up on the Spokane Indian Reservation in the ’90s. There he passes his enchanted/cursed guitar on to Thomas Builds-the-Fire, launching a series of chance meetings, assorted road trips, and an amazing explosion of music. This is the Sherman Alexie novel I’ve been wanting to read! It’s his first, but it holds together much better than the later Flight, and it’s funny and lyrical and hopeful and tragic. Alexie employs magical realism in a manner I really like, keeping the story grounded in his characters the entire time. What a wonderful, exhilarating book.
133. The Napoleon of Notting Hill, G.K. Chesterton — If I could think of a non-creepy way to send this book to Misha Collins, I would do so in an instant. Like The Man Who Was Thursday, it’s darkly comic and brilliant, but in a way that feels separate and fresh from the later book. This novel follows what happens when a man who cares only to maximize his amusement is made King of England, and treats this appointment entirely as one great joke. As one can imagine, things get someone out of hand, and the results are both hilarious and horrifying. As they would likely be if Misha Collins actually managed to kid his way into taking over the world.
Is it my civic duty to figure out a way to press these pages into his hands? Quite possibly.
134. Preacher: Gone to Texas, Garth Ennis — Reread. Jesus, what the fuck was I doing reading this when I was 16? If anything, it's more gruesome and fucked up than I remember. Nevertheless, it's still really good. And the parallels between this and the current storyline on Supernatural are hilarious. I'd forgotten the seemingly obvious tidbit that Jesse calls Cassidy "Cass." Um. MOST AWKWARD CROSSOVER EVER.
Seriously, though, just like I don't actually want the Good Omens characters anywhere near SPN, I don't want the SPN characters anywhere near this 'verse. It is too perverse even for them. Some of this shit would make Alastair cry.
135. Netherland, Joseph O’Neill — President Obama endorsed this book! To mark this momentous occasion, Random House helpfully sent us a roll of stickers to press lovingly onto our stock’s covers. “‘Fascinating... A wonderful book.’ — President Barack Obama.” As these stickers make no mention of the title or author, I of course seized the opportunity to abscond with a half dozen or so. I plan to stick them on other books that strike my fancy, including, of course, my own—if the Blue Fairy ever comes along and makes it a Real Book.
My mind wandered over these assorted fantasies quite a bit while I was reading Netherland. It’s not a bad book, but it never grabbed me with anything like the vigor that had me snatching up those stickers. In many ways, it’s an update of The Great Gatsby to a post-9/11 world, but it lacks Gatsby’s passion. O’Neill is very clever in his reinvention of Fitzgerald’s story, making its modern version about immigration and race, and also cricket. I was intrigued by the dreams and exploits of Chuck Ramkissoon, but I found the narration of Hans cold and bland and at times even a bit turgid. Nick Carraway keeps himself at a remove, I suppose, but Fitzgerald’s lively prose sizzles while O’Neill’s staid, literary style failed to move me. Don’t get me wrong: I’m still glad I read this book. But while it engaged my brain, it failed to capture my heart.
136. The Manual of Detection, Jedediah Berry — Boring, vaguely Borgian mystery. This paled especially in comparison to the G.K. Chesterton I'd just read; it has none of The Man Who Was Thursday's wit. You should read that instead.
137. Twenty Fragments of a Ravenous Youth, Xiaolu Guo — It really is as fragmentary as the title suggests, but while this book doesn’t create a complete portrait, it does provide many fascinating glimpses into modern China. The perspective of Fenfang—a young, somewhat naive country girl who moves to Beijing to seek her fortune—is vivid and fresh. This was like a wonderful appetizer; I can’t wait to read some of Guo’s—likely more mature and complete—later work.
138. Humans, Donald E. Westlake — This came out just a couple of years after Good Omens, but rather than enduring has instead faded into out-of-print obscurity. It’s easy to see why. While there are some interesting bits, particularly in the arc of the angel Ananayel—who was sent to Earth to bring about the destruction of humanity, but might, just possibly, wind up changing his mind—Westlake’s apocalypse is rather a muddle compared to Gaiman’s and Pratchett’s, and his human characters are significantly less compelling. The women and the people of color are, in particular, treated shoddily, and even most of Ananayel’s potentially interesting emotional beats happen off screen. Plus it’s just nowhere near as clever or funny. Essentially, it comes down to this: I own four copies of Good Omens and reread it every year; I already gave my copy of Humans away.
139. The Authority: Under New Management, Warren Ellis — I’ve read Transmetropolitan, and you, sir, are no Transmetropolitan! Oh well.
140. The Dark Horse Book of the Dead, Ed. by Scott Allie — Do I remember a single graphic short story from this collection? I don’t think I do. Always a fabulous sign, that.
Total Reviews: 140/210
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Date: 2010-01-04 06:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-04 10:45 am (UTC)