Home Game

I’m not sure I can tell you why, but I have this weird fixation with being introduced to authors by reading one of their completely inessential works first.

For years Carrie has been singing the praises of Michael Lewis, to which I’ve always given a polite nod, mostly because of my distaste for sports. Especially in a state like Alabama, it’s hard enough to dodge conversations about this team vs. that. So why would I want to read about the stuff?

The back cover of Home Game had little to say about sports at large, so it seemed like a promising enough alternative. And I was intrigued about how the book claimed to not be about the joys of parenting, but the complete opposite. It read like a journal where Lewis vented about all the pain his wife and children put him through during this time, trying and failing to make sense of it.

I’ve kept up with reading really well (and listening, when it comes to audiobooks). It’s the whole blogging thing I’m falling behind with. We’ll try to fix this shortly.

This book was #46. Only 6 more to go!

Shoplifting From American Apparel

The hilariously-titled Shoplifting From American Apparel is a very new novella by Tao Lin that I’ve been looking forward to for a while.

Dialogue carries the story first and foremost. The main character Sam, his friends, exes, and fellow inmates say the strangest things aloud and over Gmail chat. It’s generally funny and sometimes half-profound.

The book jumps cities and segments of time quickly, and at first I felt that everything in Sam’s world seemed unimportant, dirty and depressing. But after getting into the flow of the story, I eased up and enjoyed myself.

I get the idea that people will be talking about the psychological truths within Lin’s writing many years from now, but who can say for sure?

This was #45. Only seven more to go in my 2009 in Books pilgrimage.

Up Close: Harper Lee

For #44 I wanted to read one of the books by my writing professor, Kerry Madden. I decided to go with a copy of her biography on Harper Lee first, after finding it at the library.

Kerry tells about Harper’s (Nelle’s) early life in Monroeville, Alabama, her lifelong relationship with Truman Capote, and most importantly, her world as everything about it was transformed by the publication of a book called To Kill A Mockingbird. The amount of research Kerry conducted is astounding, especially keeping in mind the fact that Harper has rarely allowed for interviews.

The voice is fresh and simple, written with grades 7-12 in mind. Older readers, though, will also find it refreshing. For me a reprieve was much-needed, after trying to wrap my mind around the latest Pynchon novel (I abandoned Inherent Vice, which will unfortunately not make the mark for #45).

King Dork

I think this is probably the third time I’ve read or listened to King Dork, so I’ll keep it short. Of course, like everything else that’s come from the brain of Dr. Frank, it’s well worth revisiting.

This time I listened to the audiobook, laughing to stay alive at work, and trying to pick out subtle clues to where the sequel might lead. For one, in a final scene, Sam Hellerman starts talking about “connections” from the past, which really weirds out Tom Henderson. I’m not sure how Sam will end up starting an occult-oriented rock band with Tom’s sister, Amanda (which you get a taste from in Andromeda Klein) but figure all of this will be answered in King Dork Approximately.

In my course at UAB, my professor is letting me do my author presentation on Frank. This will be weird and fun, and also difficult to keep under 15 minutes. I’m currently digging for a KD excerpt and some song lyrics for classroom dissection/discussion.

In related news, I got my signed Andromeda Klein 7″ in the mail the other day, upon returning from my trip to Nashville.

There was also an amazing package waiting for me, featuring a print and a plush owl from The Harpers.

This was #43 out of 52. Thanks for reading.

Slam

I never got around to reviewing this for Some New Trend, like I planned to.

I couldn’t have enjoyed Nick Hornby’s contribution to the YA world more. I didn’t know a thing about Slam before popping in the audiobook. It’s the story of two teenagers who do the unprotected sex thing and then get stuck with a baby. But really it’s so much more than that. Where pop culture often shows the struggles and issues young females face in this situation, it rarely gives a vivid description of the trials for the male. This kid has no idea how to be a dad, and just wants to skateboard.

Listening to Nicholas Hoult (kid actor in About a Boy) added to the experience (never read that book, but loved the movie like pretty much everyone else). It’s really sad, honest, and funny. There’s a little bit of a mild sci-fi element to the text too, which you’ll have to read to see. Heavily recommended. Still waiting for my copy of Juliet, Naked to show up at the library.

This was #42. Only 10 more to go for the year. Two more are already finished, and a few others are near completion. We can totally do this!

The Discomfort Zone: A Personal History

I finished #41 a couple weeks back. So my mini-reviews have been falling by the wayside yet again.

Jonathan Franzen’s The Discomfort Zone: A Personal History was great. The sentences in this small book of memoirs are strong, smooth, and intelligent. It’s the way he tells it. Franzen does what writing should, offering a new way of looking at the world, providing social observations about Charlie Brown, being a part of a weird 70s cult-like church group called The Fellowship, and bird-watching (honestly, the latter is not as bad as it sounds).

I was interested to learn about the writing movement he’s been associated with, called Hysterical realism. The writer as someone who “knows a thousand things but does not know a single human being.” Scary thought. More to come later.

Basil’s Dream

For #40 I read a novel called Basil’s Dream by Christine Hale. You can read my proper review at the Alabama Writers’ Forum.

An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England

The intention has been to keep things positive, and with a few exceptions, I think I’ve managed to do so. That said, I must warn you. There’s no covering up, the novel pictured on the left provides nothing the jacket claims. The story is not “hilarious,” nor is it “subversively compelling.” I’d like to meet this guy’s publicist and friends who said so. Since I’ve fallen into mostly awesome stuff in the 2009 in Books project, I was bound to eventually be deceived by a cleverly-titled book that offered little reward.

#39 was simply a let-down from the get-go. Let’s face it. A story about an arsonist burning down Emily Dickinson’s house simply has to deliver. Why then, couldn’t it have? The long-winded Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England would have surely benefitted from a few more drafts, whittling-down the narrator’s excessive descriptions, adding more intriguing characterizations, or maybe just finding a clearer direction in general. As a reader, it’s never enjoyable to have things repeatedly spelled out for you as if you don’t have a brain. The narrator is boring, flat, wholly unlikeable, and his dumbing-down of every event turns out to be less a device and more uninspired writing. I hurts when you realize that this Brock Clarke was surely capable to do so much more!

There are a few moments of payoff, like one memorable exchange between the narrator and the person whose parents happened to die in the Dickinson house fire. This very painful moment, and maybe a few others, are why I feel sort of bad for ranting about how unenjoyable this one was. There’s certainly lousier fiction out there to be read. I’ve just been fortune enough to avoid the stuff this year.

Lovesick Blues

I’ve been taking my sweet time getting around to the last few books I’ve read. So once again, it’s time to play catch up. A few notes about this one have been sitting on my desktop for close to two weeks. It feels like Hank has been quietly reminding me not to forget about him.

I certainly enjoyed #38. I’ve always loved the man’s songs, and even visited his grave once on a trip through Montgomery to take photos. What makes Lovesick Blues: The Life of Hank Williams a winner might be the author’s genuine enthusiasm for the topic. He breathes new light into an old story, to tell us about the famous abusive alcoholic who predated rock and roll by nearly a decade. In ways HW built the rock legend archetype from the ground up, dabbling in affairs, bad marriages, and often being too intoxicated perform, if he showed up at all.

Little did I know before this book how autobiographical every song happened to be. With only “three chords and the truth,” Hank wrote songs with titles like “Why Don’t You Love Me (Like You Used To Do),” bringing country music into the forefront of popular culture. It’s also interesting how a black street performer taught him how to play the blues as a child. As the author notes, ”If (Hank) had a genius, it was simplicity.”

As an artist, Hank Williams made suffering enjoyable. Out of the 66 songs he recorded, he wrote 50 himself. He grew up fast, and died young (and as Minnie Pearl and June Carter both noted, they all figured it was coming any day). This one is fully recommendation to anyone mildly interest in the subject.

Consider the Lobster

For #37 we popped in an abridged version of David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster. The audiobook features four of the longer essays taken from the “real” version, tied together by what themes I’m not sure. (Question: Do abridged books count? My vote is yes, if only because I already abandoned another half-listened-to audiobook [or three] out of boredom. Naysayers feel free to speak your peace in the Comments section.)

Foster makes great observations, like: “As a tourist, you become economically significant but existentially loathsome, an insect on a dead thing.” He exhibits his strength as a reporter while researching questions that lack easy answers, such as: “Do lobsters feel pain?”

Dave Eggers has praised Wallace for having multiple writing styles and voices he can turn on and off  at will (I wish I could find a link for this). In this recording, parenthetical asides are given an alternate, muffled recording sound, to keep the reader from getting confused. I’ve never read DFW’s fiction, which could be another goal to make before the year is over (I’m tempted to make Infinite Jest my final book this year, but this might be a little ambitious. I wouldn’t be opposed to waiting for INFINITE SUMMER in 2010, if it happens again.).

It’s difficult to imagine the author of these essays ending his own life a few years after their publication, but what’s done is done. This collection might have been a strange introduction to Wallace The Writer—outside of some interviews and an article he wrote about John McCain—but it’s also the only audiobook of his the Birmingham Public Library had on file (c’mon BPL, get it together).

Right now we’re taking a little too long to get through a modern poetry book. Also, did you get my note about the return of WEEKLY FIZZ?