What Pajiba's Reading / The Pajiba Staff
There’s a pretty great premise inside Thomas Healy’s I Have Heard You Calling in the Night: A lonely, friendless, drunk of a man cleans up his life and gets a Doberman pup, and eventually becomes attached to the dog and in so doing reconnects with the rest of humanity. That’s the basic story, and it almost unfolds with the kind of heart and grace you’d want from such a story. But Healy’s an old man now, and his 2006 memoir suffers from the kind of loopy prose old men are prone to spin out. The plain, mostly passive construction doesn’t try to do anything but lay out the basic facts: “So Martin it was, and I have never heard of another dog called Martin.” One of the book’s most effective sequences comes early on, when Healy reminisces about running away from his Glasgow home to spend a few nights in London, where he met and spent a week in calf love with a prostitute. His writing style now matches the naivete he had then, and the section is all about growing up and letting go, and it works. But, moments of sporadic beauty aside, the book’s uneven narrative prevents much of a through-line from developing: Healy goes back on the bottle, then cleans up, then slips again, then cleans up; he has a series of meaningless relationships; he copes with familial illness. Over the course of the story, Healy gradually develops an interest in God, despite a mistrust for religion, but his spiritual development isn’t given quite enough time to unspool: He doesn’t believe, then he attends a few serendipitous revivals, then spends time at a monastery, then believes. Incorporating the religious aspect of the story more thoroughly from the beginning, as well as better organizing the jagged chronology, would have gone a long way into turning a cute idea into a moving story.
I’d been meaning to read Dashiell Hammett’s Red Harvest for a while, and you can chalk it up to the unwanted “Veronica Mars” hiatus or the fact that Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was in heavy rotation on HBO, but I pulled the book off my shelf and willingly threw myself for the first time into Hammett’s gritty, lean world of double-crosses, payoffs, and a whole lot of murder. But as much fun as it was, I just couldn’t finish the book. I know what you’re thinking: That I’m a failure, and have no initiative or commitment, and that I make poor life choices. But you should know it wasn’t my intent to put the book down when it got bad. That’s never my intent. Ever. Hell, I stuck with The Naked and the Dead long after reading the book became as much fun as actually marching to Bataan, so I can stick with a book. I’m not one of those people who gives a book 100 pages (or a film 30 minutes) to win them over before stopping; sure, life’s short, but not so short I shouldn’t finish books. But Hammett’s hard-boiled prose runs out of momentum about halfway through the novel, which isn’t one mystery story so much as an interconnected series of almost-vignettes about the unnamed Continental Op, who narrates, and his efforts to clean up the crime and murder in Personville, aka Poisonville. The book’s attempt at scope is its ultimate weakness: Instead of tightening the suspense and investing time in a major mystery, it spins a series of minor ones that never have enough time to involve the reader. I would pick up the book to continue reading only to realize I couldn’t remember what had happened last time. I’m not done with Hammett — it’s a kick to read the kind of pulp that helped pioneer and entire genre and mindset — but for the uninitiated out there, Red Harvest is no place to start.
There are literally thousands of awful volumes of inspirational or theological writing out there, the kind of cornball gag-inducing guides to being purpose-driven or kissing dating goodbye or how to get rich quick or any of a number of dangerously deceptive pseudo-intellectual screeds built around prooftexting. But I wanted to read something good, and that usually means C.S. Lewis. The Problem of Pain is deceptively slim — it’s about 150 pages of not very tiny type — but Lewis manages to cover a lot of philosophical and religious ground. He sets out to find an answer to the questions that everyone wrestles with: Why do people suffer? Why do bad things happen to good people? What kind of just God would allow the existence of pain? Obviously, in 150ish pages, Lewis isn’t exactly able to answer every question, but his frank tone and commitment to chasing down possible solutions to the problems is admirable, and refreshing. He’s willing to confront what he believes and why, and works from an examination of the history of physical and emotional pain through the ramifications of free will in a society that prizes justice. It’s not an impenetrable book, but Lewis’ familiarity with and willingness to freely quote the philosophers you forgot about right after the midterm makes for some occasionally dense passages. But Lewis’ prose occasionally spins out a phrase or idea of true grace and jarring honesty, as when he admits that is “beyond my design” to make the necessity of suffering palatable. If nothing else, it’s moving to see a man so earnestly seek to explore the depths of his own soul. — Daniel Carlson
This has been a relatively quiet time for me on the book front, and I haven’t read any new or recent releases. Instead, I’m trying to put a dent into the ever-growing “To Read” pile, which means I may not be able to tell you anything about either of these books that you don’t already know. For example, David Sedaris’ 2005 story collection, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, is pretty similar to his other collections, although more of the stories here focus on his family. Many have said this is one of his best but I have to admit that I actually found myself a bit bored at times, and don’t think this collection holds a candle to, say, Me Talk Pretty One Day. However, it does contain what has become my favorite Sedaris story, “Six to Eight Black Men,” about Holland’s version of the Santa story. That story, alone, is worth the price of admission, particularly if you’re already a fan of Sedaris. If you’ve never read Sedaris before, I might start with one of his other books, although there’s nothing wrong with starting here. And, personally, I don’t care about the recent kerfuffle over that fact that Sedaris’ stories aren’t all 100 percent true, as he has often claimed. I always assumed he was doing some comedic and creative embellishment with his stories, and I read them for their entertainment value, not as a window into his past. To my mind, this isn’t the same thing as the James Frey debacle, and it hasn’t impacted my continued enjoyment of Sedaris’ works.
The other book I’ve finished is one that I’m sure none of you need to hear anything about - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. You’ve all heard of it, and you’ve already read it or you don’t care to read it. The Potter series has been in my “To Read” stack for a while, and in light of both the upcoming flick and the seventh-and-final book, I figured it was time to finally play catch-up. So for the next several months, I will probably be reading little else other than Rowling’s series. As for this first book, it was a pretty light and quick read. I enjoyed it enough that I jumped right into the second, and I’m actually looking forward to getting a bit further along, to where the books are longer and start providing big chunks of story not already covered in the flicks. In any event, I’ll just add that these books, while designated as children’s books, are certainly capable of providing entertainment to adults. If that was the only thing holding you back from reading them, don’t let it stop you. Otherwise, you probably know enough about this series to know if it’s something you’d like or not, so I need not say anything else on the subject. — Seth Freilich
Clive James is an Australian critic and essayist who has quickly (but belatedly) joined a list of my favorite writers. Last spring, I read a collection of his travel pieces that included this description of a reliable and pleasant airport in Zurich: “(It) was like a bank which had merged with a hospital in order to manufacture chocolates.” Somewhere in the avalanche of attention James has gotten for his latest, highly ambitious project, Cultural Amnesia, I read a strong recommendation of Unreliable Memoirs, an out-of-print recollection of his time as a schoolboy. It suffers from a lack of incident, but you could do a lot worse than this simple string of hilariously told escapades. The laughs come frequently, and they’re frequently out loud. James is as smart as he is funny, so the book is also studded with memorable, sometimes epigrammatic thoughts, like these:
Generally it is our failures that civilize us. Triumph confirms us in our habits.The standards of animation set by Walt Disney and MGM cost a lot of time, effort and money, but as so often happens the art reached its height at the moment of maximum resistance from the medium.
I talked endlessly, trying to fascinate her. At least twenty years were to go by before I began realizing that there is no point in such efforts - what women like about us is seldom something we are conscious of and anyway people don’t want to be charmed, they want to charm.
— John Williams
Jonathan Lethem’s latest, You Don’t Love Me Yet is his tribute to rock music, I suppose. It’s a sharply witty, well-written breezy kind of novel, and one that can be read in a sitting or three. It’s about Lucinda, a close-to-30 bass player in a struggling L.A. band that works a complaint line during the day, though the complaint line is mostly just a form of avant garde conceptual art. It is there were Lucinda falls in love with a complainer whose profession involves making up “itchy” slogans for T-shirts and bumpers stickers (“POUR LOVE ON ALL THE BROKEN PLACES,” “ALL THINKING IS WISHFUL”). Lucinda appropriates the utterances that the complainer makes during phone calls and, later, during sex and adds them to the lyrics of her band’s songs. Once the complainer learns of the plagiarism (and insists on becoming a member of the band), a lot of questions arise about the ownership of songs, questions which threaten to tear the band apart. It’s a cool book, mostly for the way it tracks the odd ways in which a song is created (and to whom credit is owed) and for the way it parodies romantic comedy. I have to admit, however, that after Fortress of Solitude, I was hoping for a little more than a light, trippy novel, or what essentially amounted to (a much smarter) Reality Bites for rock bands. Fortress was an epic experience, one of the best novels in the last twenty years, while You Don’t Love Me Yet was light Saturday afternoon fare that went down easy and left little lasting impression. And, honestly, Lethem is capable of a lot more.
I picked up Justin Tussing’s novel, The Best People in the World on a whim, because it was ostensibly about three back-to-landers in the early 70s who decided to move to backwoods Vermont and live off the grid, which is how Mrs. Pajiba-hyphenate was raised (no running water, no electricity — just a creek, a lot of trees, a house her father built, and a lot of Dylan albums). It involves 17-year-old Thomas Mahey, who falls in love with his 25-year-old school teacher, Alice Lowe. They befriend the anarchist vagabond, Shiloh Tanager, and escape to an abandoned house they discover in Vermont, which they decide to squat on during a long and fierce winter, which threatened to tear their little family apart. I have to admit that The Best People in the World was a little hard going for a while — the kind of book where little happens. But, the last 50 pages were incredibly moving, as I slowly began to recognize all the metaphor and symbolism. It’s sort of like one of those literary novels you begrudgingly read because a college professor assigned it; and you mutter under your breath for 300 pages, until everything opens up and the reward overwhelms you. And if you have the patience for it, the payoff is definitely worth the slogging.
There was nothing literary about Jodi Picoult’s Nineteen Minutes, however. It was an engrossing page-turner, a thriller about a high-school shooting in New Hampshire. The novel tracks the days, months, and years leading up to and after the shooting from the perspective of several different characters: a classmate and her mother, a local cop, the shooter’s parents, the defense attorney, and the shooter himself, who snapped after years of taunting and bullying (and you’ll be surprised at how sympathetic a teenager who kills ten and wounds 19 can be). It’s the first Picoult novel I’ve picked up, and she’s got a helluva knack for creating solid characters and a riveting narrative. In a way, actually, Nineteen Minutes seemed as thought it picked up where Richard Russo’s Empire Falls left off, and Picoult has his same ability to explore the lives of small-town America, creating rich identifiable characters and absorbing storylines, making it damn near impossible to put the book down for any length of time. I gather that Picoult is one of those bestselling authors that a site like ours is supposed to eschew, but fuck it: Nineteen Minutes is an outstanding novel. — Dustin Rowles
Pajiba Love 04/11/07 | | Pajiba Love 04/12/07 |
Comments
Some good books, other's I've never heard of. Gives me a good idea for an "Afternoon Comment Diversion."
Why don't we find out what Pajibains are reading as well?
Posted by: Kevin Longrie at April 11, 2007 4:22 PM
It's odd that you'd write "It's sort of like one of those literary novels you begrudgingly read because a college professor assigned" because Justin Tussing is a professor at my college.
Posted by: Kendra at April 11, 2007 4:39 PM
I just put aside "The Little Women", by Katharine Weber. Got about 1/3 of the way through and detested the protagonists so much that I could read no further. It's really well-written, I just hated everybody so much that I couldn't move forward.
I read Capote's "Answered Prayers" last week, which was pretty juicy. Before that I read Stephen Carter's "The Emperor of Ocean Park". Way too long, but I did enjoy it.
Posted by: Samantha T at April 11, 2007 4:52 PM
OK I don't normally read the comments sections so this may very well have been asked and answered already, but I have to educate myself on the world of Pajiba. Where is Jeremy? I am seriously missing his verbose voice. Is he still writing for Pajiba??
Posted by: Chris at April 11, 2007 5:07 PM
I'm sure everyone's probably heard of this one, but "Then We Reached the End" by Joshua Ferris is pretty awesome -- "The Office" if it were a David Sedaris story. Very Nick Horby-esque; Horby provides the cover blurb.
You're right, fb. Indeed, it was a fine novel. We covered it in the last book post. Strongly recommended. -- DR
Posted by: fb at April 11, 2007 5:08 PM
You are right- David Sedaris' best work is still 'Me Talk Pretty One Day' and his best story in Dress Your Family is Six to Eight Black Men. Good call.
At the urging of a friend I am reading Howard Zinn's 'A People's History of The United States'...it's phenomenal, what an eye-opener and not boring history stuff at all. There are all sorts of unsavory characters, betrayal, killing, sex, lies etc. I highly recommend it.
Posted by: Clevelandhchick at April 11, 2007 5:12 PM
Wow! I've actually read two of these. Of course on the the Harry Potter, but STILL!
Also, Sedaris is, hands down, my favorite author. I actually have to agree with you about "Dress Your Family." It was a bit somber for me, but more than that, it was like there was too much talk, not enough action. Anyway, as much as I love "Me Talk Pretty One Day," my very favorite is "Naked" (this is coming from someone who has read everyone of his books).
And I second Kevin's suggestion of a literary afternoon diversion.
Posted by: Lizzy at April 11, 2007 5:42 PM
A great book about a troubled child/teen is "We Have to Talk About Kevin". I honestly can't remember if you (Pajiba) covered this in a previous reading post and I can't find it in the archive, but it's excellent and well worth a anybody's time (unless of course you recognize the character in a child you know in which case you'll be so freaked out you'll never open a book again).
Posted by: PaddyDog at April 11, 2007 5:55 PM
PaddyDog - I COULD NOT put that book down! I read it recently...and am expecting in June. Terrifying. I thought it was absolutely riveting. Really raises the nature/nurture debate to an interesting level.
Sedaris is a goddamned genius. I love his piece about his family considering buying a beach house.
Posted by: Samantha T at April 11, 2007 6:24 PM
I agree, Me Talk Pretty is my favorite out of Sedaris' memoirs.
I just finished Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love-though I found the 1st third of the book (her time in Italy) pretty engaging, her details around life in an Indian Ashram and her musings on spirituality brought out my cynicism. I had to stop reading for all of the eye-rolling.
I'm now reading The Emperor's Children by Claire Messud...so far I'm completely fascinated by the characters.
Posted by: Julie at April 11, 2007 6:34 PM
FWIW, the author's last name is spelled Picoult.
Noted and corrected. Thank you.
Posted by: Graham at April 11, 2007 6:35 PM
Re David Sedaris: For those of you who drive a fair amount or otherwise need audio entertainment, the comprehensive audio compilation of Sedaris's work, as read by the author with occasional assistance from his brilliant sister Amy, is a must-have. You will recognize the box by the distinctive rooster illustration, referring of course to his brother's nickname: "Nobody kills the motherfucking rooster."
And a link to David's brother's website (who knew?):
http://www.youcantkilltherooster.com/
Re "Then We Came to the End," now I'm going to go back and read the last book post -- someone just turned me on to the site a few weeks ago.
Posted by: fb at April 11, 2007 7:55 PM
Jesus, I am a goddam moron -- as soon as I saw Lewis Black's face at the top of the last reading post, I realized Pajiba is where I first heard about "Then We Came to the End."
Excellent recommendation!!
Posted by: fb at April 11, 2007 7:59 PM
I just reread Harry Potter #1 for the first time in almost 6 years. It's amazing how much has changed in the series. Enjoy the rest of the books!
Posted by: Claire at April 11, 2007 9:32 PM
Much of this article was good as usual, in that it was an opinion, and i like to hear different opinions. But C S Lewis. I loved narnia and read them religiously, but his religious writings my evangelical mother tries to push and i gave them a chance, not just reading 100 pages but the whole cursed things. He is a fine writer but his christian propaganda in non-fiction form is just a little too much.
Posted by: haden at April 11, 2007 9:42 PM
Right on, Seth! The Harry Potter series, in my opinion, are even more for adults than kids (I read Sorcerer's Stone first as a freshman in college and fell in love), because they contain philosophical and literary elements that young children will probably miss on a first reading. But I won't wax eloquent, as that will just be boring. I'll limit myself to this: good choice.
Posted by: bonnie at April 11, 2007 10:18 PM
I've never read anything by Sedaris that didn't delight me into a different universe, but for my money, Naked is the best of his collections. I picked it up on a plane journey years ago and literally laughed so hard my stomach hurt. He's genius.
I too am a C.S. Lewis fan. I love The Screwtape Letters, a slender quick read. This book follows the adventures of a senior devil's (Screwtape) letters to his junior protege temptor, advising him on methods of securing the early damnation of a human referred to as "The Patient." Definitely worth adding to your list.
Posted by: Janice at April 11, 2007 10:19 PM
i find it encouraging that lewis can be taken seriously in a world that is progressively anti-Christian. thank you for reading him and adding him to your list! :-) the problem of pain is one of the best books i've ever read, on any subject.
Posted by: Miriam at April 11, 2007 10:54 PM
Six to eight black men is THE best Sedaris story EVER!!! I've read it over and over again and still laugh-cry every time...
Posted by: Be Adequite! at April 11, 2007 11:48 PM
Kurt Vonnegut Jr, age 84, is the greatest writer of all time and he has died.
Posted by: Brian at April 12, 2007 12:00 AM
Re: David Sedaris--I subscribed to simplyaudiobooks so I could listen to Sedaris as I worked through the day. I've listened to just about all of the audiobooks they have and listening to him read Six to Eight Black Men will have me falling off my chair, no matter how many times I listen to him.
And regarding criticism of his embellished autobiography--of course they're embellished! No one's life/suffering is that funny.
Posted by: PGS at April 12, 2007 12:15 AM
good idea for afternoon diversion. can i say what I am reading? Tom Robin's 'Still Life with Woodpecker', because I've never been able to figure out red heads. A book by E. O. Wilson called 'The Future of Nature' because he studies social insects, and I read a fabulous interview with him in Seed magazine last Jan. I read a Margaret Atwood book that was semi-relevant for me since I'm an artist living in Toronto. It was called Cat's Eye. Ok, nothing really smashing as of late. Reading this blog and it's comments is more interesting than books to some degree. ouch.
Posted by: adrianne at April 12, 2007 1:00 AM
R.I.P Kurt Vonnegut
Posted by: amy at April 12, 2007 1:06 AM
Ok, If you haven't listened to Sedaris, you haven't experienced him. It completely changes how you read his stuff. But I do highly recommend " A Thousand Spendid Suns" by Khalid Housseni(he wrote the Kiterunner) It's tragic and beautiful. If you like Jodi Picoult( i shudder to think) you should check out "The God of Animals". Good coming of age stuff, if that floats your boat.Though " Lullabies for Little Criminals" totally kicks it's ass.
Please excuse any grammatical mistakes...i just got home from drinking, saw a book post and geeked out.
Posted by: bookwhore at April 12, 2007 2:07 AM
Oh, Seth Freilich, I think we are biblio-soulmates.
And thanks a bunch to the other Pajiba-ers who have given me quite a list for my next trip to the bookstore (as soon as I finish this dissertation, that is... curse academia!)
Posted by: Micheru at April 12, 2007 2:46 AM
Amy, my wife just called me at the office to let me know of Kurt Vonnegut's passing yesterday. The world will be a less interesting place without him. :-(
Posted by: Armando at April 12, 2007 8:48 AM
I'm reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. It's epic, gorgeous, brilliant. A little dense, but it's a density you're really able to sink into and even feel comforted by eventually.
Was going for Nietzsche next, but I may derail and pick up some Vonnegut I haven't read yet, now.
Posted by: lauren at April 12, 2007 9:33 AM
I just heard about Vonnegut and came racing on here to read the comments. I just knew other Pajibans would love him. What a loss and how relevant he was right to the end. There is only on fitting obituary for him: "So it goes". Those of you at Pajiba HQ, how about a separate thread to post on the great man?
Posted by: PaddyDog at April 12, 2007 10:30 AM
Vonnegut has always been on my list of books I need to read but haven't gotten around to. But I know enough of his work to know it's a great loss to literature. I need to remember to add him into the list.
Currently reading "Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime" and just finished "The Prestige". After that, it's "Lamb" then "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh". Thanks Pajibians for the suggestions. I love the book column because I have very few friends that actually read for pleasure. So this is a bit like a book club for me.
Posted by: Rob at April 12, 2007 12:07 PM
Adrianne-
We are soul mates! Still Life with Woodpecker is still one of my all time favorite books. Robins' writing style is so unique and descriptive, it really makes you realize that only certain people are gifted w/ the talent of creating such an art form.
One of my favorite lines from that book is: Her hair was as red as ironed ketchup.
Simple words, but when strung together, create a picture that leaves nothing to the imagination.
Posted by: Helcat at April 12, 2007 12:41 PM
I am reading David Mamet's On Directing Film and an advanced reader's copy of Don DeLillo's new novel Falling Man.
Mamet is expectedly witty and assholish in his short treatise, but gives some good advice about directing actors as well as pacing stories and boiling them down to their essence.
The DeLillo novel is typically DeLillo - written in a beautiful cadence with descriptions and insights you never thought possible from one man. No doubt to me he is America's best living novelist.
Posted by: Harmonov at April 12, 2007 2:20 PM
Rob, enjoy "The Curious Incident..." great, but odd, book. If you like that, have you read "The Dogs of Babel." Devastating. I just finished reading "Driving With Dead People" by Monica Holloway. I grew up with her, and her somewhat fictionalized memoirs are a hard blow. Worth checking out.
Tonite, I re-read Slaughterhouse-Five, for obvious reasons. Thanks, Kurt.
Posted by: dammitjanet at April 12, 2007 2:26 PM
"There are literally thousands of awful volumes of inspirational or theological writing out there... But I wanted to read something good, and that usually means C.S. Lewis."
I would also recommend Paul Tillich. I found "The History of Christian Thought" and "Biblical Religion and the Search for Ultimate Reality" especially good, although I haven't read all his books yet.
Posted by: Phaeolus at April 12, 2007 2:28 PM
The Deptford Trilogy by Robertson Davies. Very smart. Engrossing.
Posted by: Amber at April 12, 2007 3:11 PM
Rob & dammitjanet: I read "The Curious Incident.." a few months ago and if you enjoyed it I would recommend "Born on a Blue Day". It's a memoir by Daniel Tammet who has Asperger's. I really enjoyed it and hope that maybe someone else will pick it up and enjoy it just as much.
Posted by: REW at April 12, 2007 5:01 PM
Jodi Picoult? Oh barf. I was forced to read her for a class, remarked to said class that the novel reeked of a Lifetime movie, and three years later, surprise surprise, Lifetime adapted it for the small screen. I wish she was eschewed.
Posted by: Gudrun at April 12, 2007 6:30 PM
It is good to know I'm not the only one with a significant and growing To Read pile (besides my father who have inherited this affliction from. A good known cure for this disease is a nice vacation during which I managed to knock six of the pile (scary how small a dent I managed to make): Read over the past week and a half:
Chuck Klosterman - Killing Yourself to Live
Mark Spitz - Too Much, Too Late
Mark Binelli - Sacco And Vanzetti Must Die!
(somehow managed to take with me 2 past Spin and one current Rolling Stones columnists)
PD James - Children of Ment (verrrrry different form the movie)
Giles Foden - Last King of Scotland (now I absolutely must see this movie)
Rory Stewart - The Places in Between
Posted by: Brian at April 12, 2007 7:41 PM
Read Kate Atkinson's latest, One Good Turn. Loved her Case Histories. Reading Mr. Timothy right now--sort of a "sequel" to A Christmas Carol, but grittier.
Posted by: Grace at April 13, 2007 2:02 AM
Where is "Heart Shaped Box"? A MUST read for any cinema lover, and you don't have to like Stephen King crap to appreciate that his son has created a far more compelling tale than he's managed to come up with since his short story 'The Body" way back when...Find it. it's fantastic!
Posted by: sarah at April 13, 2007 7:07 AM
If you get the chance to read Clive James' 80's TV reviews/essays, take it. They are hilarious. He's been a popular writer & TV personality in the UK for years, and is a very funny man.
Posted by: tarn at April 13, 2007 7:14 AM
I've been on a biography kick since the end of 2006. Reading Marion Meade's biography of Dorothy Parker led me to read about Mary McCarthy which led me to Lillian Helman which led me to Dashiell Hammett. I finished up The Thin Man in January and thought it was fantastic.
My 'to be read' pile is massive, but Vonnegut's "Breakfast of Champions" is going right up top once I finish reading Hermione Lee's "Edith Wharton".
Posted by: MelodyNelson at April 13, 2007 1:19 PM
I absolutely LOVE Jodi Picoult. I've read everything of hers except her first novel and Nineteen Minutes (her most recent), and every single one was incredible -- except the second ("Harvesting the Heart"). It seems like she really hit her stride right about the third, and has not stumbled since.
Posted by: Sterling at April 14, 2007 5:44 PM
Wow. I'm truly feeling less than literate. Tend to be kind of a Dean Koontz guy. Don't you people do any *light* reading?
Posted by: Dave at April 17, 2007 7:38 PM
As someone above said,Lionel shriver's kevin was an awesome book. Although jodi picoult is a great writer i just dont think nineteen minutes was up to her usual standard. it posed interesting questions but didn't go into enough depth. her charactors didn't have the same depth as her usual books and she even re used a legal argument from a previous book. Not her best effort and nothing compared to kevin.
Posted by: ellen at April 19, 2007 2:17 AM
Picoult's best novel, hands down, is My Sister's Keeper. If you like Nineteen Minutes, give MSK a try. So worth it.
Posted by: Nicole at April 20, 2007 12:37 PM
I picked up the Best People in the World. It's in my To Read pile, which is now stagnant as I've lost the book I was reading (Possession, by A.S. Byatt). A slightly smaller chain near me covers books on this area or by people from this area (Cincinnati) pretty heavily. I read the first few pages of it, but I had just read a book that was much more entraping (Hairstyles of the Damned, by Joe Meno), so I lost it. But the one idea that stuck with me from those first 4 or so pages was the idea of the bunnies being all around, and that it gave their lives a sense of tragedy.
So, having lost my book, right now I just reread these two short stories by Andrew Sean Greer (my favorite author) in his compilation How It Was for Me. The ones I always reread are "Life Is Over There" and "Blame It on My Youth."
Posted by: Camille at May 6, 2007 6:51 PM
Loved the novels "Bel Canto" by Patchett and a total opposite "Katzenjammer" by Jackson T. McCrae. The Patchett is very traditional but with an unusual situation and the McCrae is a scathing look at the inner workings of the publishing world. A sort of "Devil Wears Prada" for people trying to get a book published.
Posted by: John at August 7, 2007 3:17 PM
