The Reader

Reading & Writing Web Finds

2011-04-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

Will Allison's ode to his wife's editing skills.
My personal experience attests to the beauty of harmonious marital writing and editing. I have benefited from my husband's helpful editing since before we married and have enjoyed our joint efforts on copy and content for three years.

Austin Kleon's advice to writers and creatives everywhere: How to Steal Like an Artist. Encouraging and inspiring.

Robert Lane Greene's post on the flexibility of English grammar. Sometimes rules aren't always clear, but one of my favorite things about English as a language is it's adaptability.

The last typewriter factory in the world is no more!

A group of Federal employees banding together to eliminate ridiculous acronyms in Acts of Congress.

Bossypants by Tina Fey

2011-04-25T09:46:00.000-07:00

Bossypants is exactly what a reader expects from an autobiographical book by Tina Fey. You open it hoping to laugh until you pee your pants a little. You may need a spare pair of pants.

And you're dying to know, How autobiographical is 30 Rock, really? If you're a fan of the show and re-watch episodes repeatedly on Netflix Watch Instantly like I do, then you'll quickly realize that Fey borrowed from her personal experiences for material. And by borrowed, I mean like how I borrowed change from my older sister's bank as a kid and used it to buy candy cigarettes. (Do they even make these sticks of pure sugary coolness anymore?)

Fey's writing in Bossypants is deeply personal, occasionally vulgar and constantly hilarious. Amidst the revealing childhood stories and confessions are Fey's personal views on controversial and divisive subjects like parenting, feminism, gay marriage, abortion. Her practical tone and lack of rhetoric will make these ideas palatable to even those who disagree with her. She works her normalcy-mojo on unusual experiences, too, like photo shoots and hanging out with stars. This is why we love her. Fey is a celebrity, but through self-deprecating comedy, she makes it okay for us to be imperfect.

Anyone who liked Fey on SNL, Mean Girls, or 30 Rock is likely to be as crazy about this book as I am. Readers who vaguely recall who she is will have no problem enjoying themselves. Some of the book will be more appealing to women, but male fans should not hesitate to read it. It is super short and could easily be finished in one long, glorious day on the beach, but I recommend savoring it and reading a little at a time. It will be funnier that way.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (33)

2010-09-18T06:43:00.000-07:00

Neil Gaiman is a thorough but interesting descriptor of setting and characters' thoughts. I watched the miniseries of Neverwhere that Gaiman wrote for the BBC in '96. Even ignoring the ambivalent acting, the Neverwhere TV series was flat without the constant inner monologues and strange, sometimes disgusting details.

In the novel, Gaiman created a world of life and death existing beneath our relatively safe one. He has a talent for writing repulsive gore, sympathetic and awkward heroes, and twisty adventures. I love tales of salvific journeys and renaissance revenge. There is something primal about the modern reader's yearning for medieval stories of violence and mystical experiences.

Neverwhere is not just empty enjoyment. It prompts some pondering over our cities' real underworlds. The London Below in this novel comprises the forgotten, the invisible, the outcasts, who normal people from London Above can't see. Gaiman's protagonist responds personally to an injured girl from London Below while his fiancee walks past in a hurry to dinner. Thought he fights and sojourns, and often whines and seems pathetic, Richard becomes the hero of the novel after this one small decision.

Copywriting: Successful Writing for Design, Advetising and Marketing by Mark Shaw (32)

2010-09-13T20:15:00.000-07:00

Mark Shaw's Copywriting is pretty obviously a manual on how to write good copy for commercial purposes. The text is long, the font is tiny, and could it be any more conspicuous to read on the train (the cover is neon yellow in real life), but it was very helpful and a good start.

The best bits of this book were the examples of successful brands, including lovely photos of the products, and the interviews with copywriters and editors. I love that advertising funnels creativity in a way that can really birth something beautiful and intriguing. We all know good ads and good copy when we see them. I want to be able to know what is good before seeing it written by someone else.

Tinkers by Paul Harding (31)

2010-09-01T07:02:00.000-07:00

Tinkers is the story of a family. The first (but also last) patriarch is George, who is dying. His family gathers around him as he fades away, hallucinates and experiences the last epileptic seizures of his life. It is a sweet and sad picture of a family as George's grandchildren read to him and shave his stubble and he recalls pieces of his life but is unable to speak and share them.

The omniscient, lyrical narrator alternates from George's death bed to his childhood home and his father, Howard. George tinkered with clocks in his retirement. Howard was a tinker by trade, fixing household items and selling wares from a mule-drawn wagon through the forests and farms. The reader also hears bits about Howard's father, a country preacher who wrote beautifully but was a bore at the pulpit. The families are different and fascinating. Epilepsy is hereditary and each generation reacts differently. Despite medical advances, the seizures are still shocking and sometimes frightening for the men who suffer from it and their loved ones.

The book is honest poetry. Sometimes Paul Harding's language is the cold meter of the cosmos, sometimes the warm and comforting rhyme of the grass and sunshine. I was lost in Harding's wandering poetic musings and detailed descriptions of clocks and tinkery items. It's been a while since I've read something written with such care.

The Big Short by Michael Lewis (30)

2010-08-23T18:23:00.001-07:00

Aside from This American Life's numerous shows explaining the subprime mortgage crisis, Michael Lewis's The Big Short is the best. Lewis tells the story of our financial armageddon and actually makes it entertaining and mostly understandable. He identifies the main characters of a narrative, makes them heroes, and lets them explain the plot.

Writing about what I learned in The Big Short is much more aggravating than reading it. I now understand the basics of CDOs, credit default swaps, shorting a bond/stock/company, subprime mortgages, hedge funds, and the ratings agencies. And I now have a deeper understanding of the depravity, greed, stupidity and laziness of the human race. Lewis explains that the people in charge of the "too big to fail" firms investing consequential sums of money in the subprime mortgage machine, and most of their employees, had no idea what they were doing with this money. When they finally caught on, they had already failed.

I suppose ignorance is more comforting than evil.

Buyology: Truth and Lies About Why We Buy and the New Science of Desire by Martin Lindstrom (29)

2010-08-05T18:18:00.002-07:00

The continuing deluge of books about human decisions based on emotions, stereotypes and snap judgments have been enlightening and disappointing. Martin Lindstrom compiled studies in Buyology that me doubt human capacity for reason and understanding the world and ourselves. Were the Enlightenment philosophers I idolize delusional?

Buyology is a marketing and branding master's study of the real reasons why people buy the products they buy. He examines advertisements that work, advertising methods and myths that just won't die, and why people say one thing and purchase another.

It is a fast read that looks much longer and more cerebral than it is. Lindstrom's simple style makes reading the brain chemistry explanations easy. It's better researched than a Gladwell, but not quite as entertaining. Maybe the most interesting bit of the book is the evidence that contradicts the idea that most people are capable of knowing themselves and their motivations. I believe in man's ability to resist emotional urges. I think Lindstrom does too, and wrote this book to share tools for overcoming our irrational impulses.

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (28)

2010-08-05T18:18:00.001-07:00

A lot of memoirs I've read lately have tried to balance guilt and regret with humor. Self-deprecation is easier to take with a spoonful of humor.

Miller doesn't try to alleviate the vulnerability in Blue Like Jazz with jokes. The book is full of his mistakes and he shares some very personal thoughts, but it never feels intrusive or uncomfortable, perhaps because it is so introspective. Miller is really pondering himself, his motivations, and his past. He really cares about knowing what he believes and treating other people with love and respect.

What I like best about Blue Like Jazz is that it reminded me, during a very selfish portion of my life, that I really need to care about the people around me. I need to stop letting little things bother me, show my affection in actions, and really admit my mistakes. Blue Like Jazz is about spiritual mystery and Miller's rise to spiritual, emotional, and social maturity.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I grew up in the church and just got to reading this book two years after college.

Lit, A Memoir by Mary Karr (27)

2010-07-28T19:04:00.001-07:00

Lit is the third of poet Mary Karr's not-so-poetic memoirs. I was immediately repulsed by the phrase "knobby head" in the foreword dedicating the memoir to her son. I took a few days' break and returned to the book. I'm glad I let it (and myself, really) mellow.

The foreword may be filled with sentimental landmines of motherly love and devotion, but the memoir is honest, funny, self-deprecating and fair to all those involved. I loved that Karr often included caveats about remembering mean things her husband said because they were uncharacteristic, or that she was selfish in her addiction or irrational when pregnant. She didn't use her story to absolve or explain herself. She just told it. And for a reader with a practically anti-addictive personality, it gave me a true picture of an alcoholic's life.

It looks a lot more like my life than I would have guessed.

The Blind Contessa's New Machine by Carey Wallace (26)

2010-07-15T14:56:00.000-07:00

A book of such beauty and sweetness could only be written by my lovely friend, Carey Wallace. I don't have a lot of published friends, so I am pretty psyched for her wondrous book and her reading tomorrow.

The Blind Contessa's New Machine is the story of a wealthy Italian woman in the 18/19th century as she grows up and becomes blind soon after she marries. I needed the first chapter or so to fall into the rhythm and accept the lushness of the setting and the focus on relationships. Like sci-fi, it worked best when I allowed myself to dwell in the imagined world and know the other dwellers. And though romantic, it reads nothing like fluffy, brainless chick-lit or a retold fairy tale.

The Contessa marries the local rich McDreamy and seems to have the perfect live. She's in love, privileged and has the resources to spoil herself with knowledge. But she loses her vision and it changes her perspective on life, marriage and her husband. Carolina also must depend on her inner life to feed her curiosity. The prose sharing her thoughts is like what I imagine was in Dali's brain or Chagall's dreams.

It's a short book - a charming, thoughtful, anti-fairy tale. Read it and support my friend!

Hiroshima by John Hersey (25)

2010-07-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

John Hersey's Hiroshima tells the story of the first atomic explosion in Hiroshima, Japan. I hope we all learned about this and WWII in school...

But the history books don't detail the skin slipping off of victims' hands like gloves, dead babies crazily cradled by terrified parents, people who drowned because they were too burnt to move out of floods. While reading, I must have made a color wheel of faces for different shades of horror. Sometimes I just couldn't keep reading.

Hersey doesn't get poetic about any of the facts. His straight reporting only foils the bizarre tragedy, apparent randomness of survival from the bombing and following diseases, and the loss. So much loss.

Its an overwhelming story that I hardly want to remember. That's the point, if there really is any. To remember.

Woman at Point Zero by Nawal El Saadawi (24)

2010-07-05T17:49:00.000-07:00

Firdaus, the main character and narrator of most of Woman at Point Zero , is continually molested, raped and beaten by the men around her. She finally finds a sort of power when she discovers that the tools men use to abuse and control her only mask their terror of a woman who is not afraid of men. Unlike Hollywood heroines, she finds this power in murder and loses her fear of death in prison.

I can't say anything about the questions I was left pondering without sounding angry and self-righteous or after-school-specialy. I picked this book up because I'm falling behind on my 52/52 and needed a quick read. For a quick read, it certainly is lingering as I think about women who are abused like this and what it means for the fight against the mildly irritating sexism I experience as a symptom of unresolved misogyny in our society.

Liar's Poker by Michael Lewis (23)

2010-06-26T09:25:00.000-07:00

I used to think that growing up would be awesome. I would have money, freedom and responsibility for determining my future. Unfortunately for my childhood dreams, growing up has been a series of disillusioning realizations.

Lately, books haven't helped muster optimism. The Imperfectionists was about work making life miserable. And Liar's Poker told the story flawed and unjust system that exists in the real world. A conservative- free market-capitalist-libertarian, has a certain faith in the market to balance the sale and purchase of goods and services according to what they are worth to the people selling and receiving them. Liar's Poker reinforced the lesson that this just isn't always the case.

Liar's Poker is hilarious and easy to understand. Michael Lewis wrote down his experiences working for a Wall Street company in the '80s as a bond trader. He sort of stumbled upon the job and admits to having no idea what he was doing at the time, so the descriptions of bonds aren't too technical or confusing. Don't get scared away knowing it's about trading mortgage bonds, the book is really more of a narrative featuring the ridiculous people who traded bonds than about the actual trading.

The stories of traders and Wall Street can really upset any belief in the fairness of the market as it is. Lucky for the reader, Lewis can accurately caricature his former bosses, so Liar's Poker doesn't gets too depressing.

Well, thanks, world, for being disillusioning.

The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman (22)

2010-06-14T19:09:00.000-07:00

The Imperfectionists is arranged in short stories, which is getting pretty common in novels this year, about people who read or work at an international newspaper headquartered in Rome. I know very little about newspapers and reporting since I get my news from Infomania and Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, so I read the more general theme - the intersection of work and personal life. The various characters offer perspectives on office politics, a job's effect on marriage, hating a job but never leaving, and becoming useless in your career.

It's smooth and readable but not mindless and certainly not light or fun. As the book continues, there is a steady decline in the ratio of humor to depressing misfortune. Short chapters allow for a workday or nap in the sun to interrupt the story. Rachman writes well and honestly about people. Even if the reader has never traveled internationally or had any experience with journalism, there are characters from life in the story. Just don't pick up this book if you're in the mood for optimism. Even the epilogue is disheartening.

A Fortunate Age by Joanna Smith Rakoff (21)

2010-06-01T20:15:00.000-07:00

Joanna Smith Rakoff wrote A Fortunate Age about a very detailed and specific subculture - Jewish, liberal, upper middle class, city dwelling Gen X-ers. The main characters are five liberal arts Oberlin grads. The book dips into their personal narratives as they go to grad school, make it big, make it nowhere, marry, breed, and halfheartedly try to remain friends in the decade after their undergrad days together.

I'm from a slightly different subculture. I lived a pretty homogeneous life until public high school, when I encountered and befriended people from different classes, religions, political parties. I remember hearing about the dot com boom, but I was really just thinking about Sailor Moon at the time. Because I and my closest friends are still childless and not quite 30, I think I'm missing something in Rakoff's novel.

The timing and style of the book are interesting in a jumbled way. Each character tells a bit of the story from a half stream of consciousness, half omniscient third person point of view. The reader experiences memories in the middle of action. Sometimes just as you get involved in a character's life, the chapter ends, and you're moved on to less sympathetic person. But it's like life. We narrate our own lives, judge our friends from our view, and hear mutual friends' theories on each other.

It's a serious and complicated novel about relationships and personal struggles. It's the post adolescent coming of age - which seems like how coming of age comes now a days.

Under The Tuscan Sun: At Home In Italy by Frances Mayes (20)

2010-05-26T19:43:00.000-07:00

Frances Mayes's epic poem to Tuscany. Under The Tuscan Sun is slow and leisurely. If you're reading it in a recliner or in the sun, it's quite likely you'll just ease into a nap after a few pages. You won't be napping from boredom, but from a desire to siesta like the village in which Mayes makes her summer home.

The book arouses the jealousy of the amateur chef. Tales of bountiful home gardens blooming like Eden without any care, fresh ingredients from town markets, and quality olive oil and wine for cheap make the Key Foods down the street even more dismal. My fire escape herb garden fights to survive, but in Italy, wild sage and rosemary spread like dandelions. What a pleasure it must be to cook so simply and so well.

And that is the point, if there is any, of the book. The pleasure and beauty of life, even if you have to go to the Mediterranean to find it.

Enlightened Sexism: The Seductive Message That Feminism's Work is Done by Susan J. Douglas (19)

2010-05-22T09:27:00.000-07:00

Sexism is still around and keeping ladies down. I agree with the basic message of this book that women still have to fight for equal opportunity. I also acknowledge that our society does little to support women at home and at work.

But I have to say that this is a very tiring book from an unimaginative feminist. The book is far longer than it ought to be to make her point. Douglas is repetitive and easily distracted with an irritating habit of interrupting important sentences with constant sarcastic asides that sacrifice clarity for labored humor.

I do appreciate her attitude and I loved reading the chapter on Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Xena: Warrior Princess, two of my favorite shows as a kid. Those fantasies of powerful women kicking evil butt were encouraging escapes for a tiny, shy girl with glasses as big as her head. Yet, the author did little to mention how media can encourage women or how media could or does further feminist causes. She only took hundreds of pages retelling 90210 or Xena or Boston Legal, shows she obviously enjoyed watching, explained how they supported the new sexism, and offered no counter examples.

Douglas has less than a basic understanding of economic theory or practice and she considers only one vision of how the country can support families: the federal government does it all. Apparently national day care is going to solve everything for women. Because the only men who can help us care for our children are the ones we elected.

Nudge by Richard H. Thaler and Cass R. Sunstein (18)

2010-05-05T17:18:00.000-07:00

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it." Kay, Men In Black

Lay and professional economists are too optimistic about citizens' reactions to laws, markets, and incentives. I studied economics at a conservative college and slid into thinking that people know themselves and care enough to make relatively informed decisions about their lives. Thaler and Sunstein are honest about the human laziness and apathy that economists ignore, though they say it nicely.

Thaler and Sunstein make gentle, convincing arguments that people need a little nudge when making big , rare decisions with little feedback or chance for correction - mortgages, loans, health insurance, and other important things that people often mess up.

It was difficult to follow the flow of Nudge at first after a fiction binge, but the arguments are easy to understand and the writing is personable and earnest. Thaler and Sunstein build trust by exposing personal flaws to the readers, like forgetting to turn in health insurance forms at work for good coverage. It's a great read for people who are moderately interested in political issues, but are repulsed by the vitriol of current political discussion. It is balanced and logical without jargon or superiority. Plus, the elephants are cute.

Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann (17)

2010-05-02T13:47:00.000-07:00

Let The Great World Spin, a mosaic of stories in the tunnels of New Yorkers lives, is the best Manhattan-based novel I've read. The characters are caricatures, cliches, and exaggerations of New Yorkers. The story I liked best was the one with the most regular characters - a group of mothers meeting to commiserate over the loss of their sons in Vietnam. It was full of the tension, uncertainly, awkwardness and regret of real life.

It is a quick read because it is precisely written, with paragraphs of concrete examples pulled from characters' thoughts. It is also a good, fulfilling read, and pretty much worth all the hype.

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami (16)

2010-04-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

Reading Murakami is like listening to someone describe a vivid dream. He writes in contradictions, broken metaphors, mystic poetry. Sometimes you're not even sure he knows what he talking about.

Kafka on the Shore was sometimes indecipherable, occasionally shocking, mostly lovely - full of art and music and natural beauty. There are a two characters I absolutely adored - Oshima, a wise, transgendered librarian assistant with a charming smile and Hoshino, a Hawaiian shirt-wearing truck driver who feels protective of grandfatherly types and learns to like Bach. It was a mystery, coming of age, epic journey fantasy. It felt like a race to the answers at the end of the book, but one through Wonderland. Most of the questions are left mysteries, and though that is a little confusing (like the whole novel), it's better. It wouldn't be as beautiful with all the secrets revealed.

Sophie's World by Jostien Gaarder (15)

2010-04-10T06:50:00.000-07:00

Philosophy can and should be a part of our everyday lives. It elevates us, helps us understand humanity and the world, and is a part of culture whether or not most people are aware of its influence. I can't say that I agree with most philosophers who (unsurprisingly) assert that the philosopher is the highest level a human can reach. But I do agree with Jostien Gaarder, and my old professors, about the importance of the subject.

Sophie's World is quite a novel. It's now been about 20 years since it's first publication in Norwegian, but a book containing an understandable and concise history of philosophy is never irrelevant. The reader learns to become a philosopher along with the main character, Sophie. And what makes a person a philosopher? Asking questions, keeping one's mind open to possibilities, and learning from history. It's simple, really.

Graphic Novel - Chew (14)

2010-03-25T12:47:00.000-07:00

Chew, Volume One, Taster's Choice
By John Layman & Rob Guillory

Chew is a crime-busting, gimmicky cop comic. Tony Chu is a vice cop and a cibopath - when he tastes something, he receives a vision of its past, like pesticides from an apple or the death of a cow from a burger. I think you have an idea of where this is going... how many disgusting things will Tony have to eat in his crime solving career? The possibilities are myriad and revolting.

There is a little more depth to the story than Fear Factor-esque gross-outs. There is a mysterious government conspiracy making chicken illegal to eat, a saboscrivner, and all of the things that make cop shows like CSI so fun and addictive.

The art is a perfect for the story. Harsh, intentionally sloppy, with caricature characters in full color. Y The Last Man is another conspiracy-ridden, mystery/action comic, but all the lines are clean and nearly every female character is Wonder Woman. Hardly a problem like that in Chew, and the comic is better for it. I like illustrators who are unafraid of drawing ugly characters.

Peace Like A River by Leif Enger (13)

2010-03-18T06:12:00.001-07:00

Once when I was reading Peace Like A River on the subway, I bumped into a friend as I got off at my stop. She was right next to me the whole ride, but said that I looked so happy reading my book that she didn't want to interrupt me.

This is a story of a small family in rural Minnesota in the '60s. The protagonist is Reuben, an eleven-year-old with severe asthma. He adores his family and so does the reader. His father is the school janitor (what horror for a kid!), but is wise and kind and a man of such great faith that he performs miracles. Reuben's younger sister is Swede: fiesty, smart, and obsessed with westerns. His older brother, Davy, is convicted with murder early in the book. He is a cowboy type of hunk: he escapes prison, rides horses through the prairie, expertly wields a shotgun, and drifts in an out of his brother's life as he pleases, evading the law.

It is a great story, one that's been told and retold, but is always worth hearing. The familial relationships are precious and deep. The characters are well-crafted, and the landscape is unfamiliar and wild. Peace Like A River is also full of religious experiences, Biblical references, and talk of faith, but it never feels preachy. Perhaps because the reader sees it all from Reuben's perspective, with childhood bewilderment and awe at the separate world of adults.

On Beauty by Zadie Smith (12)

2010-02-27T13:20:00.000-08:00

After reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog, On Beauty was uncomfortably corporeal. Zadie Smith's Love is not ethereal, philosophical, communal. Smith's Beauty is not a form or an idea. Beauty is in flesh, Love is in decisions.

This beauty isn't shallow - it is tangible. It manifests in people attractive and average, in paintings and music, poetry and actions. Something the reader has probably at least once seen and described as beautiful.

The Belsey family at the core of this novel is realistic. I keep saying that in these reviews - these characters are so real. But that's because real families fall apart, or fall into that limbo between deciding to tough it out and leaving the hurt and mess behind.

The only unbelievable thing is the recurring phrase "meant to" when anyone I know would say "supposed to." (Born and raised on the East Coast, I have never heard someone say "What am I meant to do?") It was oddly distracting.

On Beauty is intense and emotional. I think I'm still digesting it, a week later.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (11)

2010-02-24T09:40:00.001-08:00

Elegance has all of my weaknesses. Paris, France. Philosophical meditations. Precocious twelve year old in pink glasses. Protagonists who are intellectual and misunderstood. Poking fun at self-centered snobs.

It is written as two separate journals, one kept by the solitary, pre-adolescent genius, Paloma, and the other by the concierge at her upscale apartment building, the solitary, middle-aged introvert Renee. The reader sees each writer's inner most musings. To give any details of the book itself would be to betray it's beauty, which is this novel's essence. Reflections on the beauty of life, language, thought, humanity. And even translated from its native French, it is gorgeous, rich prose.

For those used to a common narrative structure, it could seem slow moving. The reader learns Paloma's and Renee's history and plans, but there is little plot development until the last third of the book. It feels like living inside the characters' minds for a few average days. But the original sedentary pace makes the second half of the book that much more precious.

It is a book to read again, and to cry over again.

Graphic Novel - Y: The Last Man (10)

2010-02-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

Y: The Last Man - Deluxe Edition Books 1 & 2 by Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra

It has been interesting reading this series after McCarthy's The Road. In Y: The Last Man, a plague kills every last male organism on the Earth, except a listless, street performing college graduate named Yorick and his pet monkey, Ampersand. It's not exactly post-apocalyptic, but it's close. This isn't just a world without men, this is a world of survivors who witnessed the gruesome and inexplicable death of their children, coworkers, lovers, neighbors. And the women not only have to rebuild their society and industries, they have to figure out how to continue the human race.

Despite the grim circumstances, Y is a fun action-flick book. The accidental hero Yorick is an occasionally moody, lovable joker. Reading it is like picking up a conglomeration of Tank Girl, Bourne, Andromeda Strain, and Playboy (there is a remarkable amount of breasts shown in an all-female society, according to Vaughn and Guerra). I like the meditations on how women interpret the plague and where they place hope for their species's salvation. The characters are real and compelling and are really the only unique aspect of the series. Power vortexes, methods of survival, the breakdown of society, a female-only culture have all been pondered in literature before. I'd love to hear an explanation of the plague and see how the women figure out the future of humanity. I suspect I won't have that satisfaction, so I'm more invested in the characters and action scenes. I will definitely pick up the next book.

Graphic Novel - Goodbye Chunky Rice by Craig Thompson (9)

2010-02-15T10:05:00.000-08:00

I love comics. When I was a kid, I would borrow my brother's Marvel comic books. I spent the majority of my babysitting money on manga (Japanese comics) in middle and high school. Now a good friend is loaning me graphic novels from his own collection. I'm not counting these in my 52 books for the year, but I enjoy these so much that I can't help it. I need to do even a tiny review.

Goodbye, Chunky Rice by Craig Thompson

How do we say goodbye? When is the right time to leave loved ones behind in our endless search for meaning in life? Chunky Rice, the adorable turtle on the cover, leaves his best friend and journeys alone, hoping to eventually find where he belongs. Chunky asks Dandel, his also adorable mouse girlfriend, to travel with him, but she has already found her home. So she writes him notes that simply say "I Miss You" (for what else is there to say?) and sends them in bottles after his departing ship.

This short graphic novel is a tale of grief and growing up, relationships and the real world. The art is simple, all black and white, but oh-so-cute. I loved it. It is touching and sweet, but not saccharine. I liked the author's perspective on different types of grief and how they affect our families and loves. The personalities were both strange and genuine.

It kind of reminded me of the end of high school. You go off to college, leaving all that's familiar behind in a search for yourself. How important is that search anyway? And why must we leave our loves behind to embark? Often we don't realize that our relationships define and shape us, and we abandon the best ones before learning that new experiences don't always help us find ourselves.

Cloves & Insecurity

2010-02-12T17:11:00.000-08:00

Now I only use cloves to flavor my french pressed coffee. In college I used to smoke clove cigarettes, before moving on to Parliaments, before my tiny bank account prompted a choice between caffeine addiction and the classic cool prop. One drug over another, I suppose.

A friend introduced me to Djarum, as well as other substances and experiences that year, and I liked the cigarettes immediately. The spicy aroma, the tang on my lips, the pretense of busyness. Cloves released me from my common female insecurity. Walking alone on the city streets, I could hide behind the smoke. Waiting for my boyfriend to get out of class, I could fake confidence among the strange and better dressed girls at his school. If I wanted an excuse to leave my dorm, I could go smoke on the fire escape and brood. There was never an empty moment with a pack of Specials in my purse.

I'm glad I don't need that crutch anymore. I just found out about the ban on cloves and flavored smokes last year.

And this just as various states are reconsidering the legality of marijuana.

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (8)

2010-02-10T16:07:00.000-08:00

This book tested my ability to endure disgusting characters, unrelated scenes and unending, argumentative dialogue. I pressed on, hoping for a little direction in the plot, a hint of the main character's fate. It really only comes together in the last 100 pages. Dilemmas are resolved, characters and plots finally intertwine, and even though something eventually (meaning, in the last 8 pages) happens to Ignatius, it is still mysterious.

Ignatius is the most disgusting character in the novel. I was repulsed by descriptions of him. If he was heading for a seat next to you on the subway, you would move. He is a baffling, chronic liar, living in his own version of the universe and hoping for a reversal of the Renaissance. And yet, throughout the book, I pondered the meaning of sanity. Ignatius is odd, obviously, and manipulative and selfish, but is he insane? Maybe we only think people are insane when they disagree with our worldview. First the reader sees Ignatius from one perspective - he is an obese, pseudo-intellectual snob and a lazy, ungrateful son. Then the author's tone changes, and maybe Ignatius isn't so bad, with an alcoholic, abusive mother and some childhood trauma, how could he not become eccentric to cope with his squalid life?

A Confederacy of Dunces could be a thesis subject, but was still a good casual read. Toole writes intuitive, understandable and hilarious dialogue in a variety of accents. The descriptions of characters and settings would be beautiful if the subjects were pleasant. And even when I was completely confused by the events, I still laughed and enjoyed the novel.

Survival of the Sickest by Dr. Sharon Moalem (7)

2010-01-28T08:22:00.000-08:00

Such a fascinating and engaging book. Maolem's curiosity and excitement about connections between evolution and disease are winning. I also can't resist a Beatles reference on the very first page - "magical medical mystery tour."

Maolem's tour took me away through the relationships between chronic, inherited disease and human development. It made me remember why I wanted to be a biologist when I was a kid. Science is awesome! Exploding-things-science is cool, but I love biology and genetics. What is the purpose of hereditary disease? How has our species responded to change in the environment? Why are waterbirths actually a good idea?

The introduction explains how Maolem began his scientific journey. When he was a teenager, he tried to explore the connection between his grandfather's common, but uncommonly recognized, blood disease and Alzheimer's diagnosis. As one of the many people with a family member who suffered with Alzheimer's, I sympathized and was encouraged by Maolem's passionate search for answers.

My favorite things about science are searching for answers and making connections. Theories come and go, and people with common sense are often rejected by the scientific community for going against the grain, but it's all about trying to find and explanation and make life a little better for everyone.

Juletane by Myriam Warner-Vieyra (6)

2010-01-24T12:15:00.001-08:00

After four books written from the male perspective, I was happy to be inside a female mind again, even though Juletane's story is as depressing as The Color Purple. Helene, a French social worker, discovers an old notebook as she packs up her apartment in preparation for her wedding. In it is Juletane's autobiography.

After reading the novel's many bizarre and tragic events, what lingers with me are the consequences and causes of bad decisions. Juletane was disadvantaged, as an orphan sheltered by her guardian. No one warned her when she decided to marry the first man who showed interest in her. On the boat from Paris to Africa, she learns that her new husband is already married. Juletane quickly becomes depressed, deepening in her alienation, listlessness, and madness. In the next five years, she hardly attempts to go back to France, preferring to dwell in misery. She blames her misfortunes on her past, all the way to conception. Juletane lives alone with her fatalism.

Helene, through whose eyes we read Juletane's tale, is quite the opposite. A full and happy childhood, higher education, career, and independence. After her fiance dumps her, she determines that all men are brutal and hardens her heart, sleeping around and occasionally using sex for spite. Helene selfishly agrees to marry an infatuated younger man, only so she can have a child before she is too old. After reading Juletane's diary, the "block of ice around her heart" is broken. I imagine the story of the mad woman retreating from all relationships and dying at 25 in an asylum would inspire a person to change.

People can't live in isolation. Juletane was isolated by language and culture. She could have chosen to live with her circumstances or to go back to Paris. I'm pretty sure that if a Catholic unknowingly marries a polygamist, the marriage doesn't officially count, so she was not bound to her husband. Either way, she would not have been alone. Helene blocks off meaningful relationships after a great heartbreak. She imagines her solitude is strength and plans to only use her fiance for his sperm without getting close to him. But she recognizes the detriment of her self-imposed isolation. What will Helene do? The novel ends after she finished Juletane's diary. But, I suppose the only way to start is to form true, lasting, and deep relationships, starting with her marriage.

Lessons

2010-01-22T07:21:00.000-08:00

One of my former bosses had a habit of pompously declaring mixed platitudes.

I only remember one. It is valuable advice, but reflecting on it is quite sad.

He told me several times, "Never move in." You should never make a home in your office. You never know when you will be gone. A family photo and a briefcase was all he needed, and could pick up and go immediately, instead of carrying a pathetic banker's box full of junk to his car.

As I prepare to move on in my career, I follow his advice. All I have is a bottle of hand lotion to slip into my purse, and I've disappeared from my desk, from this office and this life. I never made a home here and was carefully distant from coworkers as I planned my next steps.

Never moving in, never making a real connection, is practical advice. Especially for a job hopper. But even if the connections you make are short, abandoned when you leave for a new company, aren't they still worth while? Why should I stand alone, when I could at least have company for the few months I'm around?

I will only not move in with my personal items. In the future, I should try to befriend my coworkers.

Blink by Malcolm Gladwell (5)

2010-01-21T12:12:00.000-08:00

Malcolm Gladwell's writing in Blink (and all of his books) is clear and personable. He makes most of his points with fascinating anecdotes and studies. Every argument has a face. Every point is explained for the layman.

I appreciate that Gladwell does not pretend to be a pure academic, as if objectivity were something any person could achieve. Unfortunately, in explaining his ideas simply, he crosses from clarity into redundancy. Often I would worry I had lost my place and was re-reading an earlier paragraph, until I recognized his habitual repetition. I also had to slough through some unnecessarily detailed research. Okay, so there are thousands of facial muscles movements. I don't need to know exactly which ones form my smile, and what a pair of psychologists have named the combinations. I get that Gladwell researched his ass off for this book, but the self-serving detailed descriptions run contrary to his own points about the dangers of information overload.

But, I do love his theories. Gladwell reveals things we have forgotten about ourselves, or that we choose to ignore. In Blink, we are reminded that we are not just Platonic forms of humans - our bodies and our minds are interwoven. And it is wisdom (understanding), not knowledge (information) that we need.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy (4)

2010-01-14T07:52:00.000-08:00

Okay?
Okay.

The reader of The Road follows a father and son through lucky windfalls and near deaths on a south-bound journey, piecing together an image of a bleak, ash-covered country and its hopeless survivors. It is a slow and arduous read to match the trip. Several scenes in the book were completely horrifying, despite my desensitization to the idea of cannibalism from reading science fiction.

There are only snippets of memory from the pre-apocalypse world. These glimpses, and the man's poetic reflections, are the most beautiful and stirring passages. Much of the prose resembles stream of consciousness narration, and the dialogue is as boring as talking to an actual person. The disaster and its cause are mostly mysterious and the reader can only guess it has something to do with worldwide fire.

I'm not really glad I read this. I was perplexed by the boy, who was far too guileless for a child who has only known a decimated world populated with cannibals. I was also disappointed with the only half-believable conclusion. The improbable half was hastily tacked on and then abandoned. It was too convenient, but perhaps was part of the pattern of the traveling family's occasional luck. The Road didn't offer unusual perspectives on a common theme. A post-apocalyptic novel must always ponder the value of morality after the destruction of society, inhumanity during scarcity and terror, and methods of survival and adaptation. There was enough suspense keeping me interested in whether the "bad guys" would catch the homeless family, but I admit I nearly fell asleep as I began it on the subway two or three times.

I don't even think I want to see the film anymore.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut (3)

2010-01-11T12:31:00.000-08:00

Cat's Cradle buttered my Kurt Vonnegut muffin, so to speak. I was forewarned about the plot's "mind-fuck", but not about the satirical hilarity. The plot didn't blow my mind, though, since I am a huge science fiction fan and adore post-apocalyptic musing. Vonnegut's endless humor was addicting, and I finished the book almost immediately.

For all the unusual thoroughness of the novel, including a fictional religion, imagined co-creator of the atom bomb, and fake island nation that are all so detailed you could practically convert and move there, the characters are empty. The only bit of emotional realism I remember revolves around the princess of the island, who loves and is loved by all. Even after the end of the world, the despair of the narrator and survivors is a side note. The priority is clearly parody, rather than plot or characters. And more than anything, it is a commentary on religion. John-call-me-Jonah, the narrator, misunderstands Christian theology enough to leave that faith to follow the same ideas in the fictional Bokononism. I wasn't a Lit major in college, and so do not have the benefits of reading the Sparknotes here, but it seems more like Vonnegut's misunderstanding than him writing the character's mistake. (Welcome any corrections here. I'm not a professional)

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (2)

2010-01-06T12:39:00.000-08:00

The Alchemist is swift and grand. It sweeps over a transcontinental journey, enormous life changes, and vast philosophies without wordiness. Brevity is power, and the book quickly snared my affection. A seminarian becomes a shepherd (symbolism!) out of wanderlust, dreams of a great treasure and forsakes the safety of familiarity on a mission to complete his life's narrative. It is an adventurous, romantic, philosophical coming-of-age tale in 167 pages. Every character was likable, even the thieves and bandits. How could I hate them, knowing they were each an important part of Santiago's quest?

The story is warm, the writing poetic and the message inspiring, despite the pantheism. I consumed this book and felt nourished and encouraged. It is an optimistic fantasy, but surprisingly pertinent. Discovering desires we have suppressed, resisting the easy routine, trusting instincts, accepting opportunities, conquering disappointments on the way to a higher goal - it is the most enjoyable self-improvement book I have read yet. Some might think it is too idealistic or too pagan. They wouldn't be wrong. But with captivating images, charming characters and a satisfying conclusion, there is only everything to love about this short book.

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout (1)

2010-01-05T11:01:00.001-08:00

Olive Kitteridge is a collection of short stories that create a picture of the title character. Some of the vignettes are told from Olive's perspective. In others she is practically unmentioned, except for a single comment she has made to a former student, or an appearance at a local restaurant. Olive is not a particularly likable character. She is the scariest teacher at the local junior high, critical of her neighbors and family, unapologetic for her faults and mistakes, and seems incapable of reflection or introspection. So why write a book about an ordinary town and its crankiest old lady?

Few characters in this book are admirable. But they are all so real. Olive may be the bitchy wife and mother that she seems from the initial story, but she is also compassionate, individual, unrelenting. Olive and the locals don't play archetypes. They are sad, struggling people, in the way that the readers probably are. Anorexia, divorce, affairs, strokes, unhappy families, suicidal thoughts, unemployment, break ups are all quite trivial in a global perspective. They don't live with a global perspective, no one really does. We all have absolutely common problems that plague, confuse, and transform us.

I was bored, occasionally, by the ordinariness, but Strout's writing was pleasant and strong. It was unusual to read about the conflicts and hardships of the elderly, so much death, loss and change. I never came around to liking Olive. But you don't have to like Olive, or any of the other characters, to learn something from the book. It left me wondering how well I can really know other people. It made me certain that I need to be willing to change and accommodate others if I want to be happy. It also reminded me about the importance and rarity of genuine kindness, acts not coated in fake sweetness, but done for the good of doing them. Goodness is not a thing people are, but a thing people do.

Books, Chords, Minimalism

2010-01-04T08:07:00.000-08:00

The time for resolution is here!

Large goals:

I resolve to read (at least) 52 books this year. That is one book a week.
In addition, I resolve to write reviews of these 52 books.

Incremental goals:
I resolve to play my guitar every day, even if all I do is pick it up and strum it once.
I resolve to go to the gym at least once a week, even if all I do is use one machine.

Vague, philosophical goals:
I resolve to embrace minimalism in my life!

You're Not Too Old If You're Still Alive

2009-12-03T10:11:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure what it is that prevents us from realizing we can mold our identities as we age. Perhaps it is a culture of youth worship, societal laziness or communal pessimism, but we get the message very early: You must decide who you will be for the rest of your life when you are a child.

I was ten or so when I became aware of this discouraging idea. I noticed that girls in my dance class who had been there since age 3 had a distinct advantage over me, even though I began at age 6. I didn't consider at that time that it was merely more time dancing and practicing had made them better dancers. They only had 3 years of a head start. Instead, subconsciously looking for an excuse to underachieve, I determined that only those who had been dancing since infancy had any chance of tap dancing enlightenment. I was too late. I would never be good. This message I absorbed is contradictory to the parental mantra "You can be anything you want" and Disney's inescapable "Believe in yourself and your dreams will come true." My mother was always telling me that I just needed to practice more, but honestly, who listens to their mother?

Of course, my mother was right. I was a child and quit dance class at 14 to pursue the more promising High School Track & Field career. No one ever questioned my worldview: succeed young or die a failure.

What I didn't know was that I could live my life differently. My quest for an identity, an occupation that thrilled me didn't end with my teens. In 2009, I realized that as long as I think, I am, and I can change directions, start a new hobby, seek a better career. So what if I didn't learn guitar in my teens? I'm starting now. My identity is not fixed, neither is my vocation.

I'll never be too old to learn something new as long as I'm alive.

Preparing for the Future - Living Now

2009-11-10T06:48:00.000-08:00

Realizing that I, not my money, bills, employer, country or situation, am in charge of my employment is like discovering a new power.

It's easy to feel like a victim of circumstance. Sure, the economy basically imploded and I got laid off from my first job after college. As a newlywed and the major source of family income, I felt obliged to take the first job offered to me - because, hell, how many people are unemployed for only a week? Everyone urged me to accept. I listened to them against my personal objections and got stuck in a job that a child could perform. I was forced to accept and remain in this job because my family needed the money. I had no choice, right?

That's what I thought until this week. Every day I make the choice to stay here and continue along unchallenged, stunted, bored. The longer I'm underestimated, the worse it is for my soul, and the longer I stay in a job unrelated to my skills and interests, the worse it is for my career. It is not more impressive to stay with one company in a low level job than to show that I tried to find my true vocation.

I may not know what that vocation is (honestly, I'm completely clueless at this point), but as I continue to look, I'm convinced that I will get closer and be able to hear the call. It may be faint now, but it's not getting any louder if I plant my feet and plug in my earbuds and listen to The Beatles. (But, my god, "I Me Mine" is amazing, isn't it?)

If I ever want an enjoyable career, and if I want to be proud of myself right now, I need to change my attitude, work hard, scour my resources for opportunities, and finally use my power to be in control of my career and my contentedness. I can't let my fear of poverty snuff my desire to live and work well.

Stuck in a job you don't like? Screw your courage to the sticking place:
Seth's Blog "Take What You Can Get (?)
Salon "Working Too Hard"

Meanness In The World

2009-06-24T09:50:00.000-07:00

There is so much meanness in the world. The only thing a person can do to fix it is to not contribute. I must try harder to be kind.

----

Much to the impressed surprise of my coworkers, friends, and family, a crime has revealed something new about me.

I've lived in New York City in various neighborhoods for 4 years now. 2 years in Manhattan, 2 in Brooklyn. I've walked through the 'hood at 1am, wandered the project wastelands between wealthy streets alone, and waited for the subway on deserted platforms all in various states of sobriety and awareness. The only kind of harassment I've ever received is unwelcome pickup lines.

My office is in Harlem, one street away from the gentrified Morningside Heights. I often take my lunches in Morningside Park. On Monday, I went to have a very regular lunch half-hour on a bench in the sun. I called my mother, and we had our usual conversation about my niece and nephew. A large crowd of middle schoolers ambled by, shouting and goofing off. As the children reached the end of the park, suddenly two punk teens ran up to me, snatched my purse off of the bench and began to run away.

Everything that I did after that kid took my bag was instinctual. I didn't have a moment to process that I was being robbed, I didn't consider being scared, I didn't call for help. I didn't think at all.

My body took over. My mouth hollered a particularly loud obscenity without hesitation. My body leaped off of the bench into a full sprint after them. Then my lucky break - the kid with my purse tripped - and before my brain could question the wisdom of the action, my feet left the ground and I pounced on him. I didn't think about the pain of throwing myself on the pavement or the possibility of him holding a weapon. I tackled him with all my weight and made sure he couldn't pick my purse up. He twisted out from under me and escaped to join his cowardly cohort, who was several yards away before he turned around and saw me jump on his friend. As they ran out of the park and the still-shocked pedestrians looked on, my mouth screamed after them, "Get out of here! Get out of here!" and it wasn't til that night that I realized my throat was sore from my victorious cry.

Only when they had almost left the park did I regain logical function. My cell phone, still clutched in my fist, began to ring, and I rejoined civil society. The park came rushing back at once and I had to remember what I must do. Like my first car accident. A blur, a trauma, and then suddenly the world demands answers. I must give my terrified mother a brief reassurance. I must count my possessions. I must not ignore the old woman in the park repeatedly asserting that I am "a fighter." I must tell the people on the sidewalk that I'm okay. I must push through my shock. I must decide the next step. All at the same time.

I extricated myself from the conversations with the observers. A little shaken, more at my transformation than the robbery, I headed back to my office. I did not call the police, but someone told a passing cop about the situation. He drove up next to me, heard my story and did his duty of looking for the kids. I could not give him a detailed description. I couldn't remember anything except that they were skinny teens wearing hoods and jeans.

I returned to the office, received permission to go home, and clutched my purse tightly the whole way back to Brooklyn. I was almost at my stop when a real classy guy threatened to beat up an old man for not moving further into the train. I considered saying something to him, but realized that not even mentioning the example he was setting for his son would change his demeanor or elicit remorse. The only way to combat that everyday nastiness is to not be nasty, not even to those who treat you nastily.

I'm not upset about what happened. The robbers were unsuccessful and my involuntary ferocity has left me feeling more powerful and less careless.

Other Unexpected Joys

2009-05-21T06:59:00.000-07:00

Recently I saw the move The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I wasn't really crazy about it, and then I found out it was based on an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. And my opinion didn't change. (Yes, I dislike Fitzgerald. No, I don't want to hear any arguments for him)

One scene from the film is stuck in my brain. It's not particularly original, but it just came along at the appropriate time. The married woman Benjamin has an affair with in Russia tells him that she regrets spending her youth waiting for something to happen. She regrets wasting her time, because you can't get wasted time back.

I wouldn't say it motivated me, but that scene is one of many events inspiring me to try harder to not waste my time watching TV. Even if I can't find a better job right now, I can at least spend my free time doing things that I enjoy, that add to my life instead of wasting my time. I don't want to reach middle age and realize that I never lived my life.

I'm eagerly awaiting a shipment of one foot square canvases to finally finish the painting project that I began inadvertently several years ago. On our second Valentine's Day together, Mr. Fuji gave me a thoughtful, encouraging, and unusual gift of two one foot square canvases and a few small bottles of paint. I did not appreciate the gift at the time. Two summers later, I decided to try my hand at painting. I've been drawing all my life, but I had never really painted on a canvas.

It was a summer between semesters and hot, as usual, in my parent's suburban home. I was alone that afternoon, and I spread out some newspaper on the living room floor. I planned out my painting carefully, sketching on a pad first, then experimenting with pastels for the color (which I adore using and smearing and mixing). I painted a symbol of childhood summers so simple that I was embarrassed to call it art. If you have ever been in any of my apartments, you've seen the two paintings. They are dear to me. They are not just images from my heart, but evidence of Mr. Fuji's unfailing faith in my abilities.

I have only recently been convinced that they "count." It took a lot of praise for them to convince me that maybe they could mean something to someone else. I always liked their simple joy, but never thought they could reach beyond my personal edification and be interesting to other people. Mr. Fuji also always loved them, but he was my boyfriend at the time and was kind of obliged to say they were good, so I suppose I didn't quite trust his opinion. It was when his father, an internationally respected artist, finally saw and complimented my art that I was encouraged to continue painting.

I painted my family's Christmas gifts this past holiday season, but I didn't get a chance to continue my series. I wanted the gifts to be more personal, but painting brought the itch back. I will be painting. I wonder if finishing the series in colors will get these images out of my mind.

Reality Bites

2009-05-04T07:05:00.000-07:00

There isn't enough distraction to keep my introspection at bay for long. I can watch 5 hours of Grey's Anatomy, go out for sushi with my husband and my father, chill at bars, bridal showers, parties with my old House... but when I sit here at my desk with a saw of some kind whirring incessantly behind me and the rain pattering on the skylight, I can't stop myself from thinking.

I've always loved watching TV, but I don't think I've ever used it to distract myself from reality before. As a child I used it as an excuse to stay up later, as all kids do. In high school I used it to procrastinate, as all teenagers do. In college, it contributed to my sleep deprivation, as is the case for most college students. As an adult, I use it to distract myself from my frustrating occupation and pacify my growing discontent. As most adults do, perhaps?

Unhappiness keeps me from doing the things that make me happy. What a defeating cycle.

I'm not entirely unhappy. I've had a lot of great days, and I'm constantly thankful for Mr. Fuji and his amazingness. I spend 11 hours, 5 days a week, unhappy. But I am hopeful. I don't think I should publicly broadcast why just yet (since I can't remember if this blog is private or not). I may just be posting about it soon. I hope.