Slacking Again

House of Breath - William Goyen. Not at all like Nabokov. It was interesting. It was poetic. The language was amazing and beautiful. The plot? Non-existant. It is said that it is a love letter from the author to his hometown. It's hard to read a 130 page love letter. Particularly when the letter also goes into all the awful things that happened in the relationship. But there is one chapter told from the point of view of the well which is, to put it bluntly, brilliant.

To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee. This is one I should have read a long time ago, but never did. And now I wonder why not. The race relations are played subtly, but she definitely never shies away from them. It's tense and hard to read at times. The kid is believable and I like that the narrator is telling the story from a distance, looking back, as opposed to simply stating the past events. It makes it seem like there are two characters: the adult version and the kid version.

The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins. I am late to the game on this, but have been hounded by a friend to read it. I can't say my love equals that of the masses. I thought it was really well-written and an interesting concept. The fact that it is all told in present tense is really fascinating. It's really difficult to keep up the tension required for a present tense story. I'm assuming she keeps it through the whole trilogy. The characters are believable. I didn't really believe in the story, though. (SPOILERS) I guess I didn't understand why, if it was so terrible, all of the districts didn't somehow band together and attack the controlling district. I mean, I know that in the "1984" sense they are never really alone and organizing an uprising would be difficult, to say the least. I guess I just never felt the danger I was supposed to feel for the characters. I couldn't get into the idea of killing for sport. It just seemed uneccessarily cruel and I never fully understood why they had to sacrifice a member of the community. It never became clear to me. What was that one person dying for? Also, I found Katniss to be kind of a jerk. I want to see what happens in the next books, but mostly only because everyone else is raving about them and I need to know about things that other people like.

July

The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen. Is amazing. Well...I mean...it's really good. I love precocious child protagonists and T.S. is the kind of character you just want to hug and help figure things out. He's too much in his head, too smart for his own good. He maps the world. He maps things like how many bad ears of corn his sister husks, or all of the McDonald's' of a certain area. He maps facial expressions and speech and, at the age of 12, has already had his work printed in prestigious magazines. And then he wins a big award at the Smithsonian. They don't know he's twelve, and he doesn't want to tell his family about it (they'd never understand), so he hops a train and lives like a vagabond, making his way across the United States. Something I love even more than I love precocious children? Hobos. After a terrifying incident, T.S. finally makes his way to D.C. The Smithsonian is confused, but give him the award anyway. But it's about more than that. It's about family, and fitting it, and figuring out what you want. It also made me want to take a train (not the first time I've been stricken with that idea).

Also read another Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys. Not too much to say as Neil Gaiman can really do no wrong. It's set in the same world as American Gods. I LOVED American Gods, and liked this book. His ability to flow so effortlessly between reality and "fantasy" is enviable. His descriptions are vivid, his characters rich. Seriously. The guy is amazing and there is a reason he's in my Top 5.

A few others that I will review briefly: 13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnston - Travel! Secrets! The Demon's Covenant by Sarah Rees Brennan - Demons! Dancing! Secrets! (I liked the first one better)

I've started The Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton. Another writer of perfection. I find myself wanting to highlight every line, fold the corner of every page, because he's incredible. The way he describes people and uses language. They're not just words, it's art for him, and it blows. me. away.

I also have to read House of Breath by William Goyen for school. I should love this book. It has a great title. The first page is interesting, feels a little like Nabakov's Invitation to a Beheading, but I just can't get wrapped up in it. Which might be a good thing. It's easier to study a book you are able to look at objectively. Like, Would I ever be able to truly study Neil Gaiman? No. So. My weekend project is to read this one. And continue to freak out because I'm a writing student. What the crap?!

(Do not judge my blogs. No, really. Do not.)

Something is Annoying.

I have come across a line in writing that I find to be uninspired and lazy and super annoying. It is like this:

The story contains a mystery. All good stories do. There is something beneath the surface driving the story. The characters are having a serious conversation. They are worried about a thing that is happening. They are discussing life, an event, multiple events. Then one of them asks a question and another gives the following response:

"Something is coming."

Really? Something is coming? You may as well say, "This book contains a plot." "This television series is interesting, just you wait for this particular thing that will happen!" Something is ALWAYS coming. In every story, no matter how ordinary, something will aways be coming.

I came across this line most recently in The Mysterious Benedict Society. In this book, messages are being broadcast behind television signals and people are being brainwashed. Only the most intelligent people are immune. So this guy is trying to make these really smart children understand. They ask a question. A simple question. "So what's wrong?" There is a dramatic pause. "Something is coming."

This is really hard for me to criticize as it is an effect that is also overused by my beloved Doctor. At the end of Season Two, just before the most heartbreaking finale in all of television history*, the Doctor and Rose are standing in the middle of the street looking at the stars and the Doctor tells her, "Something is coming." And I'm pretty sure that is not the only time he has said it. There have been storms brewing and something coming in every season. And as much as I love the show, and as brilliant as I believe the writers to be, it is still the most annoying dramatic device I can think of. Surely there is a more creative way to signify a major event is about to take place. Surely.

If Ishmael stands on the deck of the boat looking for the whale and then and announces that "Something is coming", I am throwing the book out of the window.

*I might be biased. I mean, I haven't watched all of television ever. But it's a pretty intense scene and there aren't many television shows that make me weep like I am the one experiencing the "thing that has come."

Call me Ishmael.

Actually, no, don't do that. But, I'll tell you what. I've just started Moby Dick and it. is. awesome. I don't know what I was expecting, but in the first chapters the main character is forced to share a bed with a cannibal who hugs him in his sleep. It's hilarious! I mean, I'm only on Chapter 7 (out of, like, 150), but still. Awesome.

Finished the second and third book in The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare. They were called specific cities, but I can't remember the order. I think there was some ash, some glass...the other one escapes me completely. Which isn't anything against her (though, really, varying titles is an awesome way for people to remember them). The books were exciting and easy to read, and I totally believed in the world and the characters. Characters are key, and these ones had me reacting to their actions. Seriously, the romance that played out over the three books nearly killed me.

Also read Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates by Tom Robbins. The story is about an ex-CIA operative who winds up cursed by a medicine man in the Amazonian jungle and then finds himself living in a convent in the Syrian desert with an Order devoted to the prophecies of Our Lady of Fatima. Also, the Abbess was the the model in Matisse's "Woman in Blue." No, really. My favorite thing about Tom Robbins is how many plots intersect. This wasn't my favorite of his books, but definitely enjoyable. Though long. I felt like I was reading it forever and some of the scenes seemed to drag a bit. But Switters was a great protagonist, and all the small parts that came together were really fabulous.

So. Back to the whale. (Whom I haven't met yet, but am eagerly anticipating.)

More books!

I am FLYING through books this year (I mean, compared to last year).

Newly finished:

Suite Scarlett by Maureen Johnson. I liked it. It was cute. It's kind of how I feel about all of Maureen Johnson's books. I like them, but feel that if I were the actual intended age I would LOVE them. That being said, I totally want to read the sequel, Scarlett Fever.

Also finished: Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog!) which I loved, loved, loved. I feel like the best way to describe this book is to just quote the beginning:

There were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and Montmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about how bad we were - bad from a medical point of view I mean, of course.

We were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it. Harris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at times, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said that he had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what he was doing. With me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver that was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent liver-pill circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which a man could tell when his liver was out of order. I had them all.

It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine advertisement without impelled to the conclusion that I am suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most virulent form. The diagnosis seems in every case to correspond exactly with all the sensations that I have ever felt.

I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I fancy it was. I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then, in an unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to indolently study diseases, generally. I forget which was the first distemper I plunged into - some fearful devastating scourge, I know - and, before I had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms," it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it.

I sat for a while frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever - read the symptoms - discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months without knowing it - wondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began to get interested in my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening for it, and that the acute stage would commence in about another fortnight. Bright's disease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a modified form, and, so far as that was concerned, I might live for years. Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have been born with. I plodded conscientiously through the twenty-six letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got was housemaid's knee.

I felt rather hurt about this at first; it seemed somehow to be a sort of slight. Why hadn't I got housemaid's knee? Why this invidious reservation? After a while, however, less grasping feelings prevailed. I reflected that I had every other known malady in the pharmacology, and I grew less selfish, and determined to do without housemaid's knee. Gout, in its most malignant stage, it would appear, had seized me without my being aware of it; and zymosis I had evidently been suffering with from boyhood. There were no more diseases after zymosis, so I concluded there was nothing else the matter with me.

And so on.

This book is not about the various illnesses, but is mostly a book full of tangents and rants and is all together wonderful.

Two More Down

Does it count as a new read or a re-read if it is a book that you have read but remember absolutely nothing about? Such was my situation with A Tale of Two Cities. I read this book my junior year of high school (I vividly remember staying up until very early in the morning to finish it on time), but I could not have told you one thing about it other than it takes place in both London and Paris. But I'll tell you what. I completely fell in love with Dickens again. I remember loving Great Expectations (though, this has much to do with the Ethan Hawke version of the movie and the greatest film soundtrack of the time), but I had no idea that I LOVE Charles Dickens. Who knew he was such a romantic? Sure, I remember a bit of romance from the aforementioned and also the idea of love which sprouts up in A Christmas Carol. But really, Charles? I'm a sucker for a good sacrificial love story and A Tale of Two Cities fits that mold perfectly. Not that it's only about love. There is a lot going on. Like The French Revolution and the Fall of the Bastille and La Guillotine etc. But there are beautiful moments in the house with the footsteps and on the bloody streets of Paris. Not necessarily an uplifting novel, but definitely beautiful.

I also finished Craig Ferguson's American on Purpose because I love a good Scotsman and also have a strange inclination toward stories about substance abuse. Great to see how he pulled himself out of that while acknowledging that not everyone in that situation is able to do so. It cemented a lot of my thoughts about addiction and, hopefully, made me a little more sympathetic. It's a feeling I struggle with being familiar with someone who is an addict. So while an encouraging read, also a little hard to take as his story is very much not like the one I am close to. Which is probably why I prefer my substance abuse stories to be along the lines of Infinite Jest where at the end you still question whether or not there is hope. It just seems more realistic, while this celebrity memoir comes off a bit like a fairy-tale. Not to belittle it, and I certainly know that it's a continued struggle and I appreciate that he is able to share. But compared to many in the world he is a lucky and rare case.

Currently reading Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog!) by Jerome K. Jerome which is short and funny and begins with a man reading through a medical dictionary and realizing that he has every disease known to man except one. Something to which I can relate. I think this book and I will get along very well.

Man Walks Into a Room - Nicole Krauss

It never fails. I think I have an amazing idea for a story. Then I pick up a book that I really know nothing about and find that it's been done way better than I would have ever done it. This has happened with both Nicole Krauss books. Both of which I've picked up merely because she is married to Jonathan Safran Foer. And then she has to go and be awesome about it.

So this guy leaves his job, walks across the country, and is found in the desert with no idea who he is. He has a tumor and in removing it he loses 24 years worth of memories. He's 36 and his last memory is from age 12. Brilliant idea. I did have some questions. For instance, if your last memory was from age 12, wouldn't you be a slightly more socially awkward adult? Samson seems to accept it pretty easily (adulthood). I'm (almost) 27, have all of my memories, and I find adulthood to be more awkward than this guy did.

What Nicole Krauss was great at, though, was playing with the idea of what loneliness means and why it's important or desirous to be in company with others if it doesn't always feel as though it eases that loneliness. And if you lost all of your memories, would you miss them? Would you even know what to miss? If you suddenly found yourself with someone else's most intense memory (as Samson does, thanks to some cutting edge science), how would you react? Would it make you more lonely? Would you crave companionship? We're created to be sharing people, but to know exactly what someone went through, to actually smell the same smells, hear the same sounds, feel the same emotions, what would that do to you? It's one thing to be a shoulder to lean on, but to actually *know*... To understand the way a person is wired because of a thing that happened. It would make you ache for that person for having to go through it. You might want to try and understand because now it's this huge thing in your life, but they just want to move on. They've dealt with it already and don't want to go into it. Can you imagine knowing another person so intimately and finding that they want to keep their distance because the memory you're drudging up is just too painful? So where do you go from there?

I can't say I had any concrete thoughts on this book when I finished it last week, but as I write this I realize the concept leaves me a little uncomfortable. Like maybe, instead of talking, one day we'll just have our memories and thoughts transplanted into another human being. Let's cut to the chase. Avoid that "getting to know you" nonsense and just lay it all out at once. It would be too much. It would be overwhelming. It's scary enough letting down that guard and choosing to be with someone. Knowing that even though you're together it doesn't mean you feel less lonely. But to have all of their thoughts, you would *need* that person in a way that we don't need people now. And that person might need you in return, but it would be for different memories, different reasons. There will always be a disconnect somewhere. I guess it's just a matter of choosing what it is. And now we have that choice. In that world we really don't.

This is not at all where I thought I'd go with this. But I'm tired and emotional.

In Which I Repent of My Abysmal Reading Habits

It occurs to me that I hate reading reviews. So, in retrospect, it may have been a little silly to start a blog about the books I've been reading. Therefore, in this new year, I will change it to my liking. Because I am the author and have that right. I don't really know what this will look like. Perhaps it will be more stories, like the one about Kristen and when she left me to go to Wonderland which came to mind while reading The Chronicles of Narnia. Maybe I will just tell you that I hated it. Or that I loved it. Or maybe I will not even talk about the book at all. It shall be a surprise at every turn and who doesn't love surprises, right? Actually, I don't love surprises, so maybe I'll work on this a bit more... Anyway, so the thought of posting here to write a review that I don't really want to read has kept me away. Also the fact that I hardly read anything last year and that my final tally came to 28 makes me feel slightly ill. So. Out with the old and in with the new, as they say! This year will be so exciting in terms of literature. I have grand plans on the horizon! These grand plans involve reading only one book at a time and being, therefore, more likely to finish. I only reach for the highest goals imaginable, obviously.


I have no real resolutions this year other than to read a lot more than I did last year. In addition to that, I vow to make this the year that I finally finish those last 500 pages of War and Peace. Also, that one book at a time thing? Probably won't happen, so I will go with no more than two at a time and I cannot start a new one before one of those is finished.

So. As soon as I finish a book I will return. To do....something...

Magic and Virgins - Part Two of Two

Rampant, Diana Peterfreund.

Let me preface this by saying that I had no intention of loving this book. I had wanted to read it because it sounded interesting, despite the fact that it goes against everything I have ever believed. But I was going to wait for the paperback because didn't think the hardcover price would be worth it, blah, blah, blah. But. I've made an effort to attend more book signings and saw that the author was going to be at a nearby bookstore at a convenient time. This never happens. They're always horribly timed (for me). So I headed over just planning to sit in the back and watch. But there weren't many people there. Which was terrible. Because the author was adorable and brought cookies for everyone. But my guilt got the best of me and I purchased the book. After her reading and Q&A I had her sign it. Where I'm pretty sure I'm not making up the fact that I told her I've "pretty much" been stalking her. This is because she belonged to a group of young adult authors who got together this past spring and stayed in a castle for a week doing writer-type things and whatnot and I stalked all of them (via blog and Twitter) and am afraid that she ended up taking it more as a "I want a lock of your hair please" as opposed to "I think you're pretty awesome". I just want to clear that up for all of those who were not actually present. I definitely meant it in an "awesome" way.

So. Anyway. The book. The book is about killer unicorns. See? Interesting, right? So while I thought it sounded intriguing, I was a little offended as I was one of those girls who was always into unicorns. Probably to an unhealthy extent. I collected them. I had a nightlight, stuffed animals, various glass decorations, a t-shirt, a music box, pictures, etc.* I even used to tell my family that I would change the color of the stoplights with my "Unicorn Power", and I would bow my head as though pointing my horn at the light and whisper "change" under my breath. I think maybe one time in all of my efforts the light change coincided with my whisper and was enough to satisfy my belief in my powers.

That being said, I am a firm believer in the idea that everyone is entitled to her own opinion and we should always hear both sides of an argument, and if this woman wanted to hate unicorns than so be it. I started the book last week after I finished The Magicians. The book is about killer unicorns and unicorn hunters. (Actually, it's more about the hunters, but I'm finding it more fun to say "killer unicorns" than I thought I would.) The unicorns have been gone for a while, but they are staging a comeback. The only people who can hunt these unicorns are female, virgin descendants of Alexander the Great. I know. "What the crap?" right? That's what I thought. But as the story goes on, it's really woven beautifully into this myth that Alexander the Great could calm the wild beast (the biggest unicorn to roam the planet), and only his descendants can kill them.

There are varying degrees of unicorn, from small and goat-like to mammoth. The seek out the hunters and the hunters can feel them before they arrive. Like some magical power. If a unicorn horn (that's where the poison is) stabs a hunter, the hunter will heal quickly. But if the person stabbed is not a hunter (either not a virgin, male, or not a descendant of Alexander the Great), the person will die a horrible, painful death. The unicorns are not easy to kill, either. All injuries heal over before the next is even inflicted. They have to be extremely precise about their methods. There are serious injuries and doubts about all of this as the book progresses. There are also human villains and a boy that I kind of want as my very own. (Meaning - he's hot and he speaks Italian.)

I could not put this book down. I was up until almost 6am Sunday morning, having stayed up all night, to read this book. I can't remember the last time I stayed up all night to finish reading a book. So would I recommend it? Absolutely. No hesitation. It's awesome.

Magic and Virgins - Part One of Two

Magical Virgins? Perhaps.....



Two reviews today! Because I am that awesome.



First - The Magicians, Lev Grossman



I finished this book last weekend while staying up 'til all hours of the night with an ice pack on my face that did nothing to calm an infected ear. To take my mind off of things, I thought I'd go to Brakebills school with the magicians.



And it worked. For the most part. As I had previously assumed, I did not claim this book to be a favorite. It was interesting. There was a lot about what it means to get everything you really want and whether or not it makes any difference in the end. So, in the end, was this book worth it? Eh. I felt like it could have been chopped in half and had the same impact. Maybe even more of an impact. It was long and there were characters that seemed completely unnecessary. Magic learned that probably was used later, but it was never really clear as to what way. He really worked in every single fantasy book I could think of and it was fun to see them in a modern, more adult setting. Would I recommend this book? I think so. It's certainly not for everyone. And I felt that in an effort to make it appeal to adults there were some themes that seemed completely irrelevant to the plot. Also, there is an absurd amount of nudity. These kids are always taking off their clothes...



Which is a major contrast to my next book:

(See next post)

Wrapped Up in Books

I swear I have been reading. But I have also been writing and will, as of this weekend, have a full and completed manuscript. It has evolved from random scraps of dialogue and character sketches into a full-blown story. And I'm super excited. It will need a lot of tweaking and editing, some filling in of various gaps, but this is all stuff I can work on as I go along with my critique group. A book. A real book. That I wrote! And even if it never sees the light of day, I am still pretty proud of myself. (Not to say that I don't want it to see the light of day. I most definitely do. But I'll try to remain realistic.)

In the meantime, I have been occupying myself with bits and pieces of multiple books. Like Bram Stoker's Dracula. Reading along with the "Infinite Summer" crew again, though I'll admit I'm a good bit behind. At this point I feel that I want to shake Jonathan Harker. When one finds himself imprisoned in a dark and scary castle, one doesn't think "Oh...how strange." One freaks out and tries to escape. I'm just saying. Though I have to say I laughed out loud when Count Dracula smashed the last mirror after grabbing Jonathan by the throat and Jonathan's reaction was, "Now how will I shave?"

Also in the "on-line book club" category, I started Gravity's Rainbow, by Thomas Pynchon. I'm much further behind there than in Dracula, but it's not for lack of interest. What I've read so far has been fascinating and it reads like a dream. I can't say I've caught on to a single strand of plot thus far (if there even is one), but the words themselves are enjoyable. That being said, it's a difficult book to pick up for just a few pages each night. I will get through it though.

Third on the list I have The Magicians by Lev Grossman. I read one single glowing review of this book and immediately purchased it. Sometimes I'm spontaneous like that. I can't say I would have picked it up were I just looking on my own. It's about a magic school and it incorporates elements of all of your favorite fantasy novels but it's not for kids. I don't think I'll put it down and claim it to be one of the best books I've read, but I'm definitely enjoying it more than I thought I would and as it's easy to read and doesn't take much thought, I find that it's getting a bit more of my attention than the others.

Finally, since my grandparents are moving from their house into a condo, my grandfather is at a point of having to get rid of all of those books he's been hoarding. Having visited him this past weekend I found myself the lucky recipient of two boxes full of books on historical events and theology (from his years as a Minister). I dove into Dietrich Bonhoeffer's The Cost of Discipleship. I'm not much past the biography section, but I am fascinated by this man and his life. He stood up for what he believed despite persecution and imprisonment. His words are simple but meaningful; not clouded in philosophy the way G.K. Chesterton books are (though I love, love, love Chesterton). I'm looking forward to being inspired.

More thoughtful reviews as I finish. I feel as though I've been reading nothing these days.

I Am in Here

I have finished my second reading of Infinite Jest. I finished it exactly one year after David Foster Wallace's suicide and approximately thirteen months after finishing it the first time. When I returned it to my bookcase last year I did so with a feeling of accomplishment. Yet I claimed I would probably never read it again. I felt that it had been worth it. I loved the book and would tell anyone who asked how amazing it is, what a genius the author was, how it was, in short, just a mind-blowingly phenomenal book about addiction, love, relationships, depression, and tennis which just so happens to be set in the not so distant future when years are named for products and Canada has been alienated and there is a fight between US and Canada for a film they refer to as "The Entertainment" which is so beautiful and moving that upon watching the viewer becomes comatose. And there are feral hamsters. Because that seems like pertinent information. That's what I would say. You know, if forced to summarize. Though that hardly even touches upon the content of this book.

When I heard about Infinite Summer I found myself growing intrigued. It took me a year to get through the first time. Did I think I could finish it in three months? Would it be worth it to try again? Ultimately I decided that it would. I picked it up and started reading at the end of July. It was a lot easier this time around. I was able to make connections that were missed the first time. I followed the multiple story lines a lot more easily knowing that they would eventually converge. Much of it had been forgotten and so there were plenty of surprises. As people began to finish and complain about the underwhelming ending I was upset. I thought that I remembered being disappointed, but I didn't think it was as terrible as everyone was saying.

Then I got to the last page. I finished the last sentence and said out loud, "That can't be it!" I was distraught. In my head I had created a scene that didn't exist based upon hints of other scenes that had only been mentioned in passing. I had built an entirely different ending for the book and found myself again in slack-jawed disappointment. So I did what many others did. I opened it up again to the beginning as those first pages are really the end. Maybe my scene did exist, I thought. But it didn't. There is no real resolution. We never know what actually happens.

Or do we? This is where we find that the book is so aptly named. Because I know the answers exist in there somewhere. And as I realized that my scene was not in that section I wanted to keep going. To read the whole thing again to find the answers, to pick apart the clues and come up with a suitable, satisfying ending. But I set it aside again. Maybe next summer. Maybe every summer until I find what it is I'm looking for. Unless I wind up comatose on the couch, the book open in my lap, drooling and bleary-eyed.


Next - Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon. Because I seem to be going through a masochistic phase in my reading.

You guys: I am so caught up re-reading Infinite Jest that I have not been reading anything else. Stick with me, this will be a while.

Geek Love, Katherine Dunn

So I've finished an adult novel. I'm not sure what I expected from Geek Love, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around how I felt about it. The overall concept is intriguing. It begins with a married couple who work as the heads of a carnival. Tickets sales are dwindling and they feel that the way to make the "Fabulon" great again is to create their own shows. And I don't mean calling in all nature of freaks. I mean quite literally creating their own. They take pills and Crystal Lil sips on drug cocktails while pregnant. Their first son is nothing more than a torso with fins. Next are the Siamese twins. Third they have the albino hunchback dwarf (Olympia, who for all intents and purposes, is the narrator), and finally there is Chick: the one they almost left by a gas station in some small town off the trail of their tour. In between were the ones who didn't make it and are kept in jars in their various stages of life. The kids take turns, along with their mother, cleaning the glass and making them shine.

The outcome of their experiment surpasses even Al and Lil's expectations, and not necessarily for the best. A religious obsession begins to form around Arturo the Aqua Boy. With cult-like fanaticism people begin following the carnival from town to town, rest homes rise up as people lose their limbs and can no longer travel. Followers beg for the opportunity to be operated on by Arty's personal doctor, to lose a toe or foot and more until they are nothing more than a torso like Arty. But what is he teaching them? That to truly value life and appreciate yourself you need a deformity? If you already feel like you're different, you may as well show people how different you are?

Despite their issues I loved these characters. From Arty's megalomania and the twins' vain jealousy to shy Oly the dwarf. And Chick. Especially Chick. To say anything about what made Chick special would be to ruin the book. It's a mystery to even the reader until about halfway through.

In tying up loose ends Dunn explores further, through a newer character, how perfection can be your downfall. That to truly experience what the world has to offer and to live up to your potential, it is essential to take away everything that makes you good. Miss Lick shows Oly a slew of people that she has helped. Miss Lick, being fairly "norm" herself, has turned beauties into monsters in an effort to let them live a life of productivity. A prostitute can be a doctor, a stripper an astrophysicist, if only they can lose the one thing keeping them in their current life. To gain everything, you have to lose everything. Or at least that's what Miss Lick would have you believe. In the end, though, Miss Lick loses everything and gains nothing and the lesson is taught by the most unlikely of teachers.

I think I really loved this book. Yes, think. It was disturbing and creepy and it almost feels wrong to say that I enjoyed it. The characters and the world they inhabit were created so beautifully that despite how unsavory everything was it was impossible to put down. The life they led was so incestuous and perverse, but based on how they were created anything else would have seemed unnatural. When it ended I longed for an epilogue, to know the reactions of the characters left behind. But as it was, the ending was perfect and right.

Dull Boy - Sarah Cross

I am so close to being finished with Geek Love. I promise my next review will be about an adult book.

Until then, here is another YA. I really loved the premise of this book. A boy discovers an unknown strength and is constantly in trouble for breaking things (including other people). He tries to hide it, but then ultimately meets others who also have secret talents or gifts and they band together to form a sort of Superhero Alliance, sometimes against their will. They find situations in which they can use each of their unique gifts and attempt to better the world. Because what else is there to do with super powers but fix everything that's bad?

I love the characters. Sarah Cross does an amazing job at giving each one his or her own voice and quirk. Characters will make or break a book for me and these definitely made it. I don't want to call it a twist, but toward the end I found myself completely convinced that things were going to go the opposite way and instead it all went in the way I had hoped (the *right* way, if you will). There is, of course, an evil villain who is just perfect in her role and title. The Ice Queen is certainly that.

More than anything else, I think I appreciated this story due to my own not-so-secret desire to be a superhero. In college (of all places...) I even created my own superhero identity (which never really caught on for obvious reasons). After waking up every morning and finding a new bruise, I was convinced that I was actually a sleep-flying crime fighter, taking down the drunks and miscreants who wandered the hilly streets of town. My sidekick was a fiery redhead almost twice my height, yet somehow I got top billing. Not that I'm complaining...

Anyway. Great debut book and I'll definitely be interested to see what's next.

Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace

I've probably mentioned many times to various people of my love for this book. It took me almost a year to read it through for the first time and that time was probably the third or fourth time I picked it up.

After finishing it I may have claimed that the book was pretentious. But it's not at all. The book is smart, it is beautifully written, it sees into ordinary things and makes them relevant and relatable. I felt like it should be pretentious due to length, due to the literary discussions and references. I felt like as an English major I had been required to love this book. But I don't love it because I should. I love it because Wallace was a genius and his way with language and his observations of life are amazing.

So. I am reading it again. Along with other people. And this time I will embrace the book and love it because I can, not because I must. I'm so excited to see what other people have to say as they read along. Some for the first time, some for the fourth or fifth. Care to join us?



(And in preparation for my cruise, I'm totally reading his cruise ship essay again. Maybe it will just be a DFW summer, not simply an Infinite Summer.)

The Chronicles of Narnia

I still have not finished The Chronicles of Narnia. But I am so close. I am on the final one and am finding it difficult to pick it up for the last time. Not because I'm so sad to let go of this series, but because upon skimming through the first couple of pages I did not recognize any of the characters.

I understand that the series is about the land. Now. I mean, I understand that now. But I went into this hoping to follow the Pevensie children all the way through. I was forgiving with The Magician's Nephew because I knew that background needed to be established. But as Lewis slowly did away with the Pevensie kids I was really disappointed. Just when I came to love them they were told they were too old for Narnia.

Overall, I like the conversational tone of the books. It's as though my uncle or grandfather is sitting on my bed telling me a story as I fall asleep. That being said, I do think that the writing talks down to the reader a bit. But, it was a different time. Also, I'm 26. Lewis did a phenomenal job creating a fantasy world and I admire the dedication it takes to create something so unlike what we see everyday. The religious themes are much more evident than when I was 11 and first read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but not overtly so.

This is definitely a series to be read in full (I mean, I'm sure I will feel the same when I finally finish), and I'm sure I will refer to and cherish it for a long time. I wish I had given it another chance when I was a little younger, but I'm grateful that I have found it now.

An Abundance of Katherines

It seems that John Green is somewhat of an idol among the YA population. He has his own followers who call themselves Nerdfighters. Obviously I needed to know what all the fuss was about.

An Abundance of Katherines follows a guy named Colin as he heads out on a random road trip after his most recent break-up with a Katherine. Since a very early age he has only dated Katherines and even the most insignificant (the shortest relationship lasted three minutes) count. Colin is too smart for his own good and over analyzes things to the point that they become meaningless (in my opinion). But with the help of his best friend and a brief encounter with a town called Gutshot, Tennessee, Colin learns about the important things in life. And those things are not always necessarily called Katherine.

I thought this book was adorable. I don't think it converted me to Nerdfighter, but it was definitely enough to make me want to follow up with Paper Towns and Looking for Alaska. As one who runs from anything involving numbers, I found the math sections tedious. But I don't think they took away from the enjoyment of the overall story.

Would I recommend it? Probably... Though I think I'd wait to read another of his books first and see if I could recommend that one instead.

I Promise This is Relevant

When I was younger, around four or five, my mom had a friend who had a daughter named Kristin. My mom used to send me to spend the day with Kristin. Kristin was a few years older than me and I am positive I annoyed her. There is an age when a girl wants to be seen as more grown-up and doesn't want to be followed around by a five year old. So she used to play games which would occupy me for hours and during which she could go and do what she wanted. Most of the time this game was hide-and-seek.

One particular day I searched for Kristin everywhere. In closets, under beds, even in places where we weren't supposed to be. I couldn't find her. I vaguely remember crying. (I was young and she was missing.) Then, finally, she reappeared. She handed me a quarter and said that the quarter was a gift from The White Rabbit and she showed me that she had one also. Somehow my quarter ended up behind a dresser, though I have no recollection of how this happened.

Regardless, Kristin told me that she had just been to Wonderland and that she had met not only the White Rabbit, but Alice, the Madhatter, and (AND!) Dorothy. That's right. Apparently there was a special Wonderland in which all fantasy characters played together. Kristin told me that she entered this world through the closet. I told her that I looked for her in the closet and saw nothing. "That's because I was in Wonderland," she said. She told me that for some reason I could not enter Wonderland that way but that I was not to worry. There was another way. All I had to do was sit by the bathroom window, hold my special quarter, and call for Alice. Alice, or someone else, would then come and get me and they would walk me over the rainbow. I must have done this for hours. Hours. Eventually Kristin told me that I must not have been able to go because I was using her quarter and not my quarter (the one that had mysteriously fallen behind the dresser). I was defeated and depressed and to this day I can come up for no explanation as to where Kristin had been hiding. I looked in the closet multiple times and I definitely saw her walk out of the closet when she decided to end the game. It's not that I believe she actually went to Wonderland. But where did she find the quarters and why could I not see her?

I knew the references to The Wizard of Oz and to Alice in Wonderland. To meet Dorothy would have been a dream come true. My mother always used to lose me in department stores because I would hide among the racks of clothes, pretending they were haystacks, and sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." But it wasn't until I was reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe this weekend that it suddenly occurred to me that Kristin must have read that book and that's how she knew to use the closet as an entry-point to Wonderland. Realizing I would have been too young to have heard of Narnia she stuck with the places and people I would know.

This whole thing has a kind of surreal quality to it. I can offer no explanation for Kristin's disappearance. I have to give credit to the girl for being creative enough to put those things together and have me believe it all. I have to give her credit for coming up with an elaborate scheme to entertain me and keep me from bugging her. Part of me, at age 26, still wants to believe that she did go to Wonderland. That she really did meet all of those characters. Part of me wants to be Old Uncle Digory, excited to hear her adventures. But then the logical part of me returns, reminding me that the entire thing is completely illogical. I am an adult. I work in a law firm. There is no room in my life for magic and fantasy.

But then again....

Next up on my list is The Chronicles of Narnia, (each book) read in the proper order. I purchased the whole large collection (I have a weird thing for collections) this weekend on a random trip to Borders (a new Borders I just found when I randomly decided to drive to Frederick, Maryland for no reason at all only to purchase a milkshake at McDonalds and turn around to wind up at Borders). This might be my new favorite Borders though the distance is a bit much for a trip to a bookstore. But these words are irrelevant.

I started the book Sunday night and am now a few chapters into The Magician's Nephew and I am absolutely loving it. The last time I tried to read any of the Narnia books was when I was in sixth grade. I found The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to be insanely dull and vowed to stay far, far from Lewis. But after seeing the movies (which, truth be told, I did not love but do find myself oddly enthralled by and will stop whenever I see them though I will not purchase or rent on my own), I've decided I wanted to read the whole series. It's exactly the kind of book I love. Magic, mysterious old people, odd friendships, secret passages. It's perfect. I'm excited to get deeper into this new world.