Books I’ve Read « Schopenhauer

Books I’ve Read

“I’ve never know any trouble than an hour’s reading didn’t assuage.” —Arthur Schopenhauer

. . . but it is all to invite discussion. If you’ve read these books, what do you think? If not, should you? And do you have a suggestion for me? If so, pony up. . . [more]

11/2009

Around the World in Eighty Days. Jules Verne. 1873. I reread this book for the first time since my adolescence because of my students is reading it for his 7th grade class. It is an excellent read, though I am not sure he will enjoy it at his age because of the style. This might really be an effect of the translation, which renders the prose somewhat cumbersome. I wish that I could read it in the original French to see if Verne indeed wrote it that way. I am impressed with the geographic detail, and think that no small part of the appeal of the book must have been the opportunity for vicarious travel it represented at a time when so few people had that opportunity.

12/2009

When the Century was Young: A Writer’s Notebook. Dee Brown. 1993. Brown, author of Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, writes about a growing up in Arkansas at the dawn of the oil age. He tells of Sawyer-esque childhood hooligans, the adventures of an apprentice printer in the Ozarks, and the travails of a military librarian during WWII. I highly, highly recommend this delightful book.
Cultural Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know. E.D. Hirsch, Jr. 1987. I found this book stimulating and informative. Hirsch can be a bogeyman among progressive educators, but he marshals data from psychology and cognitive sciences to support his key point: reading ability requires elementary skills that most illiterate adults possess, and extensive background knowledge which they do not. I highly recommend this book to all educators and to anyone interested in educational theories.
The First Days of School. Harry K Wong & Rosemary T. Wong. This is one of the best books on classroom management I have read. It gave me wonderful ideas which I am not successfully using in the classroom. To all educators looking for practical advice and theories: put this book high on your list.

10/2009

The American Dream: Walking in the Shoes of Carnies, Arms Dealers, Immigrant Dreamers, Pot Farmers, and Christian Believers. Harmon Leon. 2008. This book fails to meet its potential. A fascinating idea, in which Leon insinuates himself into various social subcultures and tries to find out their ‘American Dream,’ it falls flat and contrived. This book could have been great with a different author. Instead, it is a decent read that you won’t miss if you have something higher up on your to-read list.
Island of the Blue Dolphins. Scott O’Dell. 1960. I’m glad I read this book, as it redeemed O’Dell in my eyes after the travesty that is Sing Down the Moon. This fascinating story, a fictionalization based on the story of a Native American woman left alone on one of the Chanel Islands for 18 years after her tribe leaves for Santa Barbara, is a gripping tale, excellent for the 10-12 set.
The Sea of Monsters. Rick Riordan. 2006. The second book in the Percy Jackson quintet (after The Lightning Theif) continues to follow the young boy’s adventures in the world of the Greek Gods. A clever, can’t-put-it-down story, I highly recommend this series for children and adults who like their books.
The God of Small Things. Arundhati Roy. 1997. Heavy. That’s one word I’d use to describe this one. It didn’t have the same impact on me that it did in high school (some book experience are entirely dependant on their timing), but, unlike last time, it gave me nightmares. Nevertheless, I highly recommend this book about family and social politics in India.

9/2009

Circus Queen & Tinker Bell: The Memoir of Tiny Kline. Ed. Janet M. Davis. 2008. This is another excellent circus book, recommended to me by Bob Sugarman. Kline worked doing an iron-jaw slide for life (sliding down a wire hanging by her teeth) in the Barnum & Bailey show starting in the teens, retired from circus in the fourties, and then, when she was seventy, started performing as Tinker Bell at Disneyland. It is an impressive and rare woman’s perspective on old-time circus life, and I highly recommend it.
Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs, and Some Other Scary Things, Maybe, Depending on How You Feel About Lost Lands, Stray Cellphones, Creatures from the Sky, Parents who Disappear to Peru, a Man Named Lars Farf, and One Other Story We Couldn’t Finish, So Maybe You Could Help Us Out. Neil Gaiman, Jon Scieszka, Jonathan Safron Foer, et al, ed. Ted Thompson. 2005. Although this book was underwhelming, it is worth picking up for a couple of the stories. My favorites were George Saunders’s “Lars Farf, Escessively Fearful Father and Husband,” and “Sunbird,” by Neil Gaiman, which I thought was brilliant. Many of the stories have a dark twise, and this book might have special appeal to teens, though I think it is best classified as children’s literature for adults.
Mr. T. Christopher Bunting and J.L Czerniawski. 2008. Do you like Mr. T? Do you like comic books (errr, graphic novels)? Then read this book, fool!
The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases from a State Hospital Attic. Darby Penny and Peter Stastny. 2008. This is a very important book. Penny and Stastny examine the mental health system through the lens of possessions left behind at a large NY state hospital for incurrable patients. This was in the Cuckoo’s Nest era, and many of these patients needed help getting a handle on their lives or recovering from some tragedy, not a life-sentence to a hospital where their life story was not listened to, or their insistance that they were wrongly committed was taken as a sign of their illness. While much has changed, especially with deinstitutionalization, it is clear that the mental health system is still rife with repression and abuse. This is especially true now that many hostpitals are being closed and instead patients are being sent to prison, not for treatment, but for incarceration. The authors strangely do not dwell on this, but I hope that if they wrote the book now, when the mental health system is being decimated by budget cuts, they would make this travesty a bigger part of their discussion.
The Phantom Tollbooth. Norton Juster. Ill. Jules Feiffer. 1961. There’s a reason this is a classic. Recommended for kids and the grown ups that read to them. Feiffer’s drawings simply make the book.
The Lightning Thief. Rick Riordan. 2005. Recommended both by librarians and my non-reading students, this has to be good! And it is – I read it in less than 24 hours, and not because I had nothing else to do. But the Greek gods are only the first, and most superficial, difference between this book and Harry Potter, to which it was compared. The first-person voice is particularly effective, allowing the teenage protagonist, Percy Jackson, to lead you through his chaotic and crumbling world. Most significantly, this book is a lot more light hearted than HP. If you want a kids fantasy book that makes you laugh and leaves you feeling good (and has four sequels), this is the one to pick up.

08/2009

Specials. Scott Westerfeld. 2006. The last book to the Uglies trilogy. If you’ve read the other two, you’ll know this one is a must-read. I very much enjoyed it.
Revenge of the Dragon Lady. Kate McMullan. 2003. I read book two in the Dragon Slayer’s Academy series to stay one ahead of my students. It is a lot of fun and I recommend it to children early in the chapter-book stage or adults looking for a short spell of diversion.

07/2009

Call It Courage. Armstrong Sperry. 1940. One of the better books my students have been assigned. Pretty good, actually, is how I would describe it, especially the illustrations (though they did find the — quite discrete actually — picture of the naked shipwrecked boy overwhelmingly distracting. The story of Mafatu, a fearful Polynesian lad who sets out to conquer the sea and himself, is gripping, especially if you can picture the adventure. I was a bit put off by the constant line drawn between Mafatu’s people and the “black” eaters-of-men. (Did I mention that cannibals are black?) Just seemed like a bit of Victorian colonial racism. Guess I’ll have to address that in my lessons.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Dave Eggers. 2000. The book that gave me crazy-dreams. I highly recommend it, by the way. Eggers spins a wonderful web of confusion and magical sibling-love (and early-20s dick-headed self-centeredness) recounting the years following is parents nearly simultaneous deaths from cancer. His writing is outstanding, his storytelling high caliber (what else would you expect from the editor of McSweeny’s?). When you pick it up, make sure to read that page with all the very fine print that you usually skip, and don’t bother with more than five pages of the introduction.
Night Watch. Terry Pratchett. 2002. My brother gave me this humorous fantasy/sci-fi book to read, in which the world is literally a disc carried by elephants on the back of a turtle, and quantum mechanics affects live at a macro level. It was an enjoyable read.
Number the Stars. Lois Lowry. 1989. I reread this because one of my students has to read it for school, and that is good fortune for me. Lowry does an excellent job in this book of portraying a child’s involvement in the Danish resistance against the Nazis. The Danes were really heroes – I would like to learn more about them.
The Little Prince. Anoine de Saint Exupery (ill., too). Trans. Katherine Woods. 1943. I loved the drawing, but was underwhelmed by the story. I think I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I read it with somebody else, for some talking about and so forth. I totally share the author’s take on adults, though. They are quiet strange.

06/2009

Roughing It. Mark Twain. 1872. This book has some gems in it and I would recommend reading it at a leisurely pace. It is not my favorite of Twain’s books, but his humor shows through, as does the Wild West. Some episodes, like his time in San Francisco and Hawaii, his stage coach ride across the country, and his visit to Salt Lake City, are absolutely priceless. Liking Twain’s novels is no guarantee you’ll enjoy Roughing It, but the chance that you will makes it worth giving this book a shot.
The New Kid at School (Dragon Slayers’ Academy #1). Kate McMullan. 2003. This is a cute book is a good one for preadolescence reluctant readers. Most tweens will be able to identify with this story of disgusting parents, abusive siblings, and incompetant, greedy teachers. After reading it and asigning it to a student, who really liked it, I am buying the next three books in the series.

05/2009

It’s Not Easy Being Green, and Other Things to Consider. Jim Henson, The Muppets, and Friends. Ed. Cheryl Henson. 2005. What a lovely little book. If you like Kermit, Cookie Monster, and Jim’s other work, and if their collected wisdom won’t strike you as trite and if you don’t mind a little adoration, then I recommend this book. The illustrations (by Jim) are awesome.
The Death of Cupid. Nachum Braverman and Shimon Apisdorf. 1996. This book, a Jewish take on love and marriage, was recommended by my dad and I read it to 1) humor him, 2) get good ideas, and 3) see what ideas are shaping his life. I do appreciate some of the ideas in it, like figure out what you want and move toward that, but their ideas strike me as a bit inconsistent and unrealistic, and unlike my dad, these rabbis aren’t paving any roads for me.
The Great Turkey Walk. Kathleen Karr. 1998. Kathleen Karr writes a delightful, though not necessarily great, historical novel. The story of Simon Green’s get-rich-quick plan, a trek with 1,000 turkeys from Missouri to Denver in 1860 is well worth reading. I recommend this book to young people and to grown-ups who like reading youth fiction.
MAUS II, Art Spiegelman, 1991. Another great book. I read it almost overnight, couldn’t put it down. I highly recommend this book to anyone interest in graphic novels or the holocaust. If I ever teach a holocaust class, I might just have to get on the use-MAUS-as-a-textbook bandwagon. Spiegelman’s simple-looking pictures and direct writing really get the terror across, and his interactions with his dad show one of the lasting costs. I HIGHLY recommend this book.
Pretties. Scott Westerfeld. 2005. The second book in the Uglies trilogy is just as hard to put down as the first. If you liked Uglies, I recommend this one (though it is not quite as satisfying as its prequil). It’s a good story: I’m eager to read the third and final book in the trilogy.

04/2009

The Canon: A Whirligig Tour of the Beautiful Basics of Science, Natalie Angier, 2007. New York Times science writer Natalie Angier just doesn’t outdo herself. Which is too bad, since her short pieces for the NYT are so good. The Canon is a wry, bordering on sarcastic, look at what scientists think you should know, and you will learn a lot from reading it. Unfortunately, she skips around so much and throws in so many distracting whiticisms that you are more likely to learn disjointed facts and less likely to get the big picture. I still recommend it, but I recommend her Times pieces more.
Cannery Row, John Steinbeck, 1945. I love John Steinbeck. This is a darling little book, lighter than Grapes of Wrath, but still about the hard Depression times in California. In Cannery Row, Steinbeck follows the down, out, and happy in Monterey, CA. (Leave aside the difficulty of imagining Monterey as a haven of the impoverished.) I enjoyed this book, but would recommend Travels with Charley or Grapes more.

03/2009

City of Light, City of Dark, Avi, ill. Brian Floca, 1993. The last of the graphic novels to arrive of the batch I bought for school, this is not one of my favorites, but is perhaps one of the best in that it will be accessible to students of all ages. Avi and Floca tell a whimsical story about the Kurbs, supernatural beings that own Manhattan island and lease it to people for the price of an annual ritual hunt for a magical subway token. (I doubt the story would be as well if it were a metrocard that were at the center of controversy.) Floca’s illustrations are delightful and carry the book far more than the story, though Avi’s writing is a good stylistic mesh for the narrative. I recommend it for middle-school readers. High schoolers will probably not be as interested.
The Sentinel, Arthur C. Clarke, 1983. This collection of short stories written from the 1940s through the 1970s offers an interesting history of science fiction. Clarke is one of the old school, with scientific training and an interest in the adventure of space travel. I don’t love Clarke, so I wouldn’t recommend the whole collection, but a few stories, most notably “A Meeting with Medusa,” are worth reading.
Under the Big Top, Bruce Feiler, 1995. This is one of the best circus books I’ve read. I admit it took a little while to get into it, but it grew on me and then I couldn’t put it down. Bruce Feiler joined the Clyde Beatty-Cole Bros. show as a writer, but worked as a clown. He takes us into the lives of the circus and its intersections with the world around it. A must-read for anyone interested in circus life. I would have been happy to read this before I joined Ringling.
I am in the process of reading a number of children’s books for school. Here are the ones I read this month, with minimal comments. The Celery Stalks at Midnight, James Howe, 1983. A wonderful piece of the Bunnicula series. Highly recommended.

02/2009

Uglies, Scott Westerfeld, 2005. This is another page turner, the story of a girl who doesn’t want to be pretty and of her friend, Tally, who wants it more than anything else in the world. Of course, Tally doesn’t realize that the surgery that makes everybody a “pretty” also puts lesions on your brain that make you into a docile model citizen. This is the story of Tally’s growing up, escape from dystopia, and daring cliffhanger ending, which will have you, and me, hunting for the sequel.
The Witches, Roald Dahl, 1983. This book is awesome. I know I just called Matilda that, so I shouldn’t use the same adjective, espeicially to describe a book by the same author, but what can I say? Fabulous plot will keep you on your toes. Dark ending (classic Dahl) will delight adults and make children squirm (I hope). Scary witches will definitely make children squirm (if they are small and you are reading outloud. Oh, what fun!) I recommend it SOO much.
A Wizard of Earthsea, Ursula K. Le Guin, 1986. This book was a pleasant, calorie-rich surprise. I wasn’t expecting to love it, but I did. I’m sure it gets compared to Tolkien a lot, and with reason: Le Guin’s writing is sparse but complete: There is no flurry of action, but the world is rich. Earthsea is as real as our world, realer, perhaps, in prose. If you liked TLOTR or Narnia, or just want a happy magic read, pick this up.
Galloway, Louis L’Amour, 1970. This is a page turner, and no doubt about it. If you like a good story and a good story teller, if you like a good Western, pick it up. I have no idea why it is called Galloway, and the ending is a bit pat, but on the other hand, it is still a surprise. L’Amour’s language is great, his imagery classic, and his six-shooters positively explosive. Once you pick it up, you’ll have trouble putting it down again.
Frog and Toad Are Friends, Arnold Lobel, 1970. Who doesn’t love Frog and Toad? I, for one, think they are the happeningest amphibians around. I bought this book for my students, and I’m glad I got to read it again, and I’m jealous of their reading it for the first time. One thing I love about this book that I did not notice before is the incredibly thoughtful drawings. For example, what I noticed this time is that once Toad gives Frog a coat of many buttons, Frog is wearing that coat in subsequent stories’ illustrations. Hurrah for good children’s stories and good children’s illustrations. I’m excited to share this with my little ones.
Alien for Rent, Betsy Duffy, 1999. An excellent book for children beginning chapter books. Two third graders find an unlikely savior from the school bully: a guggentock-loving alien named Bork. Of course, nothing is as simple as it seems, and their simple rescue gets a lot more complicated. When Bork disappears, the two kids have to restore order to their lives. Easy, quick, and funny. Highly recommended.
Strega Nona, Tomie dePaola, 1975; The Pigeon has Feelings, Too, Mo Willems, 2005. Oh, the pigeon! I bought these two books for my students, too. They’re cardboard books, so I hope the read them without being put off by that. They are both brilliant, and I would say good for children as well as adults with kids on the brain.
Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, Robert C. O’Brien, 1971. Good book, and I recommend it for middle school students (or to read to upper elementary). I didn’t like it quite as much as some of my raving friends (for me, that was Watership Down), but it was thoroughly enjoyable. One of the interesting things about this book is that it defies genre, in a sense. It has talking animals, and that would seem to put it in fantasy, or at least fable. But of course they get their increased intelligence from the injections of a laboratory neuroligist. So science fiction? A good read, either way.
I am going to begin reading a raft of children’s books on my new quest: to read everything in our school library. The first book I did is When Everybody Wore a Hat, William Steig, 2003. Steig tries to show how different the world was when he was a kid, in the 1910’s. It is entertaining and educational. I wish he went into the hats more, instead of just saying “there was no such thing as a hatless human being” and giving a few illustrations, but he does capture the overall mood well. With an adult, it will get kids thinking. Without, I’m not sure.
Half Magic, Edward Eager, 1954. A nice young-adult story. Four children (all very well behaved, of course) find a magic coin that grants half of every wish. As you can imagine, complications — and adventure — ensue. Humorous in a brainy sort of way. Fun for kids like me; sadly, it could do more with the half-magic problem, but the kids figure it out too soon.
Rapunzel’s Revenge, Shannon and Dean Hale, ill. Nathan Hale, 2008. This cute graphic-novel take on Rapunzel makes her into a lariat-wielding cowgirl bent on taking down her evil witch step-mama and bringing justice to the world. It is a fun retake on a fairy tale, good for middle school.
Graphic Classics: Edgar Allan Poe, Edgar Allan Poe, ed. Tom Pomplun, 2006. Book two on my tour of graphic volumes I bought for school. Some of these (“The Fall of the House of Usher” and “The Masque of the Red Death” especially) are highly enhanced by the adaptation. Others, especially shorter pieces and pieces with less naration and more supernatural macabre, don’t fare quite as well. Still, a good addition to our library.
Satchel Paige: Striking Out Jim Crow, James Sturm and Rich Tommaso, 2007. This book is awesome, and not just because it is a project of the Center for Cartoon Studies, which happens to be in VT. (Many things that come out of VT are awesome.) This book is a good introduction to Jim Crow and the white terror tactics of the early 20th Century, as well as to Baseball. The art and writing are powerfully spare. One of the best books, for kids and adults, that I’ve read in a long time.
Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Jeff Kinney, 2007. A superb book. This hilarious book is recommended for kids and adults.
My Father’s Dragon, Ruth Stiles Gannett, ill. Ruth Chrisman Gannett, 1948. Brilliant book, good illustrations, I hope my kids like it.
Macbeth: The Graphic Novel, QuickText edition, William Shakespeare, with John MacDonald, Jon Haward, et. al, 2008. A nice graphic-novel adaptation of the Scottish Play. I picked the quick-text adaptation for my students. It is a good choice. The plain text, which tries to ‘translate’ the original, is a failure as far as I’m concerned – it feels unwieldy and sewn together. The quick-text, on the other hand, just focuses on the story, which is an excellent one. I also like the pictures. With Romeo and Juliet, I might go for the original-text graphic novel edition, but for Macbeth, this was an excellent choice.
Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood, Marjane Satrapi, 2003. AMAZING. I highly recommend this hilarious, heart-warming, heart-wrenching childhood memoir to everyone. Satrapi perfectly captures the naivete of childhood, and shows the humor that happens when that meets the Iranian Revolution. But the book is also serious. Anybody who had sympathy for the Ayatollahs will lose it after reading Satrapi’s book.
Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island: The Graphic Novel, adapted by Tim Hamilton, 2005. This is my least favorite of the graphic novels I’ve read for class so far. The art is OK but not stellar. The story is good, and moves along briskly, but is somewhat disjointed. Every once in a while it reads as if a panel has been omitted. That’s OK for me, but unfortunate for my students, some of whom are struggling readers.
Maus I: My Father Bleeds History, Art Spiegelman, (date?) ( I can’t figure out when Volume I was published, but it seems the chapters appeared as standalone comics beginning in 1980.) I’ve just read a bucket-full of graphic novels for my students. This is one of the best. (Actually, they were all one of the best except Treasure Island and Macbeth.) Spiegelman’s genius work about his relationship with his father and about his father’s experiences is thoroughly heart-string-tugging. I find his present-day scenes with is father particularly poignant. It is incredible how much he can do with a bare-featured mouse face: eyebrows, a mouth, and the angle of the head basically can say anything in the hands of an artists, and Spiegelman is both an artist and a storyteller. I only warn you, you won’t be able to stop here: I’m searcing for Volume II. Leave ‘em wanting more – that’s always a good sign.

01/2009

I Have a Dream (an illustrated edition), Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 1997; Only Passing Through: The Story of Sojourner Truth, Anne Rockwell, ill. R. Gregory Christie, 2000; Martin’s Big Words, Doreen Rappaport, ill. Bryan Collier, 2001; Sister Anne’s Hands, Marybeth Lorbiecki, ill. K. Wendy Popp, 1998; Nobody Gonna Turn Me ‘Round: Songs and Stories of the Civil Rights Movement, Doreen Rappaport, ill. Shane W. Evans, 2006. I bought these and other books for school to see if I could pull a lesson together for MLK day this year. These are all good books. Sister Anne’s Hands and Martin’s Big Words are appropriate for younger elementary school kids. I Have a Dream could probably work from grades 5-12. (The illustrations are beautiful, by the way, and it isn’t often that we are exposed to the entire speech anymore. Who remembers that Dr. King spoke about the “winds of revolt?” Certainly not I.) Only Passing Through is good for older elementary or middle school. The stylized illustrations could be a distraction for some students, and it presumes either some background knowledge or an adult to provide some context. Rappaport and Evans’s Nobody Gonna Turn Me ‘Round is very impressive. The illustrations are beautiful, the stories personal and powerful. This book will be the centerpiece of any lesson I am able to craft.
If I Ran the Circus, Dr. Seuss, 1956. At last! I found a copy to read, and enjoyable reading it was as the train rolled. While not Seuss’s best work (but then, not every book can be The Sneetches or The Butter Battle Book), it has his trademark inventiveness and wackiness as young Morris McGurk dreams up is own Circus McGurkus. Stars include the To-and-Fro Marchers, Drum Bellied Tumm, the intrepid Sneelock (McGurk’s unfortunate neighbor), and my favorite, the “Hoodwink / Who winks in his wink-hood. / Without a good wink-hood / a Hoodwink can’t wink good.” Classic. And recommended reading.
The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories, Tim Burton, 1997. Do you like Terry Gilliam? Do you salivate over Edward Gorrey’s Gashlycrumb Tinies? Do Sweeney Todd and Edward Scissorhands make you smile? In short, does sooty humor tickle your uvula? If so, this is the book for you. Burton’s simple drawings and inelegant verse are perfect for these tales of ill-fated misfits. With heroes like Stick Boy, Junk Girl, and the Pincushion Queen, this book is a dark gem of delight.
Chasing Spring: An American Journey Through a Changing Season, Bruce Stutz, 2006. There’s no present like a book. This gift from a friend provided me hours of brain-food. Travel writing always makes me envious, not just because someone else is getting paid to travel, but it is all about taking a good idea and running with it. And boy, does Stutz have a good idea. He begins in March and follows Spring from south to north, ending in the midnight sun of ANWR. (Now there is a place that I’d never wanted to before that is now on my list.) Stutz brings a wealth of knowledge mycological, ecological, and botanical to his trip. It’s not a quick read, but Stutz will make you think, and while my mind tuned out a few times, many of his descriptions are to live for. This book made me a better traveler and a better writer. If you like American travel writing, I recommend it.
Matilda, Roald Dahl, 1988. Awesome. Need I say more? No, but of course I will. I highly recommend this book to anybody and all. From the first line, it was hard to put down. Good for reminding us that the wee folk don’t always see the world from the same eyes we do.

12/2008

In the Hand of the Goddess, Tamora Pierce, 1984. The second Song of the Lioness book. (The first, Alanna, was excellent.) I read this baby in one day. ‘Nuf said.
The Woman Who Rides Like a Man, Tamora Pierce, 1986. See above and below. Also a one-day read.
Lioness Rampant, Tamora Pierce, 1988. This is the last book in the Song of the Lioness series. Once I got to Portland, I decided to just check them all out and get it over with. They are all good teen pulp fiction, and when you are trying to get young folks to read, stories for the popular audience are not a bad place to start. This series was more than satisfying, a good find for me to buy at least one, maybe two books. The final book was of a piece with the rest, my only complaint being that the ending is too neat and predictable. However, since we’re looking for mass and teen appeal, instead of Nobel-candidate literature, I guess I can forgive Pierce for not leaving a few loose ends and just enjoy the story.
Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins, 1990. This book took me a little while to get into this time around, but once I did, TR rocked my world, as usual. Besides being hilarious, this (second) time I also noticed the careful research he did going into the book. Believe it or not, his depiction of ancient Jewish religion is pretty spot-on, at least according to what I’ve been able to figure out from watching segments from The History Channel online. Back to the book, though: Basically, I recommend Tom Robbins. I’ve read two of his books, and I’m not sure I’d say read one or the other, but read one of them. They are wacky, funny, and fun. They might weird you out or freak you out, but there is no way you’ll be bored!
Josser: The Secret Life of a Circus Girl, Nell Stroud, 1999. This is one of my two favorite circus books, the other being Two Dogs, a Donkey, and a Frenchwoman, which you can find out about below. This is Stroud’s memoir of her time on a couple small shows in England. I have never been on a one-room tent show, so I can’t tell you for sure how they compare to American shows, but I think they style of circus is a little different (American shows tend toward sap and spectacle in the Barnum and Disney traditions), and I think the British circus life has unique cultural challenges that we don’t have in the US. Stroud spends a lot of time talking about the British suspicion of the circus and “gypsies,” which I think means vagabonds more than Roma, but I am not sure. The Brits seem to be prejudiced against circus for this reason, and so give them a hard time, driving them to the outskirts of towns or prohibiting them altogether, banning posters and adverts, and other forms of harassment. Of course, there are problems with animal rights protesters there just as here. (Stroud recounts acts of aggression and vandalism that I haven’t seen here, but I can’t say they don’t happen.) We in the US seem to be much more tolerant of the itinerant lifestyle, perhaps because of our own history of settlement by traveling. At any rate, Stroud’s book is excellent and I highly recommend it to you if you can find it. After you read it, send me an email and let me know what you think: I’d be interested in a conversation.
Circus, Alastair MacLean, 1976. Take it from Wikipedia: “Many MacLean fans do not consider this to be one of his finer works.” So do I recommend it? Only as a sort of parody of other espionage thrillers such as Bond, especially the dry-witted Bond of the Sean Connery era. The book is a little too over the top, witness the building the superhuman protagonist has to break into: “Every window … is heavily barred. All are nevertheless fitted with burglar alarms. There are only two entrances, one for each building, both time-locked and both heavily guarded. The buildings are both nine stories high and the connecting walls are the same height. The whole upper perimeter of the walls is lined with closely spaced, outward curving metal spikes, the whole with two thousand volts running thorugh them. There’s a watch-tower at every corner. The guards there have machine-guns, searchlights, and klaxons. The courtyard between the two buildings … is brightly lit at night—not that that matters so much: killer Doberman pinschers roam the place all the time.” Sorry for quoting at such length, but otherwise you won’t have an accurrate picture of the writing style. I picked this book up, of course, because it is titled Circus and indeed the circus is an important setting of the story. Of course, it is the preeminent circus in the world and the protagonist and friends are the top artists in their fields, accomplishing feats like bending steel bars effortlessly or performing flying trapeze blindfolded. All the good guys posess this outlandish exceptionalism except the girl. She’s a total ditz. All in all, not my favorite espionage thriller, and I don’t recommend it as a circus novel, either. I do, however, thing that other MacLean books might be worth reading, and I plan on seeing if I can get my hands on some of his better work.

11/2008

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck, 1939. “Frock!” this book is amazing. I really have enjoyed every piece of Steinbeck I’ve read. This one is an incredibly powerful portrait of life on the edge, and I don’t need to say more, suffice to say read it. As good a history lesson as any, though admittedly one with an agenda. Five of five stars.
The Education of Little Tree, Forrest Carter, 1976. This is an excellent story, and I highly recommend it if only for the humor (but there is a lot more to recommend than that). But oh, the questions it raises. The author, Forrest Carter, is widely presumed to be Asa Earl Carter, a Klansman and leader of the Alabama White Citizen Council and the speechwriter for George Wallace who wrote the “segregation now, segregation forever” speech. So how does that reflect on this book that is, if perhaps naive and romantic, certainly not racist? Can we accept it for what it is, or is Carter’s history a mark on the book? And if this book is ever read in school, do we have to bring up its author’s burried past? I haven’t got the answers. My suggestion is that you give it a read and let me know what you think.
Alanna: The First Adventure, Tamora Pierce, 1983. The year I was born must have been a good one for adventure, because this book is full of it. It kept me up past 1 AM last night (which meant for a sorry day teaching today), and I still can’t put it down. So my recommendation? Pick it up. This classic girl-in-disguise story, of a lass who dreams of becoming a knight, won’t disappoint you.
Life of Pi, Yann Martel, 2001. A great book the first time around, and a better book the second time! I can’t tell you what this book is about – the story is a boy, a tiger, and a life boat, but that’s not what it’s about. Just read it. (On a side note, it really has informed how I think about the circus and animals. Much to the dismay of PETA, I’m sure.)
Theras and his Town, Caroline Dale Snedeker, 1924. I don’t often give negative reviews, but here is one: The story is a 5 out of ten, the writing a two. Describe both naked Athenian and Spartan youth as “brown as berries” (several chapters apart)? Put in an aside to reassure readers that a boy that appeared to have died did not, when the death had a plot function and the rescue did not? Qualify Athenians’ worship of Athena by saying the believed in her so fervently that their prayers found their way to the one true God over all? Apparently the author was twice a Newberry Honor winner. Too bad my students have to read this book, and not the ones for which she one.

10/2008

Castle Waiting, Linda Medley, 2006. It has been a long time since I read a book I was this enthusiastic about. Castle Waiting is an engaging, humorous, delightful graphic novel/fairy tale full of bearded nuns, smirking women, and imaginatively drawn creatures of all sorts. I’ll tell you it begins with the story of Sleeping Beauty, but as for the rest, I’ll remain mum except for two words: read it.
The Sign of the Beaver, Elizabeth George Speare, 1983. I read this book for school, and it is another good read from the author of The Witch of Blackbird Pond. The book is a wilderness survival novel focusing on the fate of a 12-year-old boy left in the big woods of colonial Maine. He survives theft, killer bees, and a marauding bear, befriends his Indian neighbors, and makes it through the winter to reunite with is family. I am impressed with Speare’s treatment of the Native Americans. Whereas I thought Scott O’Dell’s Sing Down the Moon (another book we read for school) was a stiff, unappealing and stereotypical, if still sympathetic, portrait of the Navaho, Speare treats them with respect without putting the Indians into the box of the readers’ expectations. I recommend this book for all ages.
The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling, 1984. I enjoyed this book, especially the Mowgli stories and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but I don’t particularly recommend it. It’s main virtue is reminding us that there is more to the story than Walt Disney lets on.
Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen, 2006. I wasn’t really jazzed about this book. For one, I am leery of things that say “a novel” on the cover under the title. Pu-leez! Also, though it came recommended, two folks whose taste I trust made faces when I mentioned it. One said it was poorly written. And yet, I couldn’t put it down; it kept me up at night. So here’s my thoughts: Actually, it is very well written. The problem is that underneath it all, it has a poor, and cliche, story. Water for Elephants is the reminiscences of an old codger who ran off to join the circus and falls in love with one of the show girls who is in an abusive marriage. It’s love at first sight, especially because they both physically remind each other of past crushes. Again, Pu-leez! Fortunately, the crazy husband gets brained in a circus managerie stampede and the protagonist and belle get married, have five kids (though he’s a virgin at the beginning of the story), and live happily ever after until she dies, he gets old and is put in a nursing home, and… runs away to join the circus (again). See what I mean about cliches? The love sub-plot is the worst. But not only is it very well written, Gruen did her research and presents a very gritty, if almost stereotyped, version of circus life. In a lot of ways this reminds me of Ted Hoagland’s Cat Man, except with a happy ending. So after all that, I DO highly recommend this book. Just be prepared to not be able to put it down. And for a mixed aftertaste: a combination of thrill and mild vinegar.

09/2008

Circus Doctor, J. Y. Henderson, 1951. Henderson was the chief veterinarian of Ringling Bros in the 1940s, a very different circus than today’s. When he was working, the show traveled on three trains, played in tents, had a managerie with giraffes, polar bears, and a pygmy hippo (and that’s the short list!), and was still directly overseen by John Ringling North. Henderson’s story is quite charming, and I definitely recommend reading it if you are at all interested in Circus. One of the interesting things about it is that he seems to be defending the circus a lot. He makes a lot of comments (we’ve never had any tension between … here, and so on) that seem to be designed to allay white middle-class fears of immoral carnies coming through and stealing their daughters or sons. Or possessions. It is a very interesting contrast to Edward Hoagland’s “Cat Man,” written from a roustabout perspective on this same circus about the same era. That contrast makes this book an especially interesting read.
The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Elizabeth George Speare, 1958. And so begins my first book of an intensive children’s books reading spree. And what a way to begin! This is an excellent feel-good historical fiction, a gripping tale for any age. I recommend it for adults to read to children, for children to read to themselves, or for adults to read to their own inner book-lover.
Bridge to Terabithia, Katherine Paterson, 1977. And this is an excellent follow up. I’ve never read this book before, though it was a favorite book on tape when I was young. I think this is an excellent book for readers of any ability. I think I may get a class set and use it as a reader. Also good for any age, though more for the inner child than Witch of Blackbird Pond.
Pippi Longstocking, Astrid Lindgren, 1950. Not much to say about this book. I didn’t really like it, but if you read it, I hope you do.
Ferret in the Bedroom, Lizards in the Fridge, Bill Wallace, 1986. My expectations of this book were pretty low judging on by the cover and title. But oh, how the old adage is true. This is an excellent book and I think I’m buying a class set for my chitlins.
French Fries Up Your Nose, M. M. Ragz, 1994. Sadly, books sometimes also disappoint. This is one of them.
Watchmen, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, 1986. I enjoyed rereading this awesome book, and definitely saw a lot more the second time, though some of the picture-word overlap/whatever-you-call-it seemed to hit-you-on-the-head blatant. This book is as germane as ever with the Bush legacy, too. Unlike many readers of this book, I am looking forward to next year’s movie release. Do I expect it to hew to the book? No. But is has a lot of potential to be a damn good, if slightly different, movie, overturning all those schmaltzy superhero movies of the last several years. This book is highly recommended for a first time or re- reading.
The Tale of Desperaux, Kate DiCamillo, ill. Timothy Basil Ering, 2003. Another excellent book fixing for a movie release, also with potential for an excellent adaptation. I read this book with the thought of getting it for school. The words and story are simple (and the illustrations endearing), but the story is compelling enough that I hope it will appeal to older readers and younger readers alike.
I am Morgan le Fay, Nancy Springer, 2001. I picked up this Arthurian legend, told from the perspective of Arthur’s half-sister and witch, M. le F. I was skeptical at first, probably a result of the pulpy cover, but actually it is an excellent book. I appreciate the way it turns the story around and tells it from another point of view. And I can’t put it down. That is a pretty good endorsement.

08/2008

The Alphabet of Manliness, Maddox, 2006. Maddox’s Alphabet is an awesome, of eventually somewhat tiring (26 letters will tax anybody’s imagination) satire on testosterone. It reminds me a lot of my friend Todd, which may mean something to some readers. The self-aware misogynist irony is what gets old, but the illustrations are brilliant, and some chapters (A for Ass-Kicking and K for Knockers, P for Pirates, L for Lumberjacks, U for Urinal Etiquette, and especially N for Noris, Chuck) are gut-busting. I recommend this book for anybody who likes humor and doesn’t mind when it comes in offensive packaging. If you like Family Guy, you’ll probably also like this book.
Price Caspian, C. S. Lewis, 1951. I’m enjoying my excursion into Narnia a lot more than I did my first time around, when I was a child. This is a sweet book. I’m electing to read these books in the order in which they were written, rather than the chronological order in which they take place. Wikipedia has an interesting discussion on this issue, though relatively mute. I’m sure there are much more heated discussions in other corners of the Internet. In my opinion, this book does not live up to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but not only that, I think the movie of Caspian outdoes the book, which can not be said about Wardrobe. The filmmakers made better use of narrative tension and suspense, especially by having Nikabrik almost recall the White Witch, rather than in just talking about it. The last battle, and Lucy’s desperate search for Aslan, is also better in the film, though it kills me to say it. How highly do I recommend this book? Three of five, perhaps 2 1/2. But I’m keeping with the series, too, in the hope that future installments live up to the narrative excellence of Wardrobe.
I’ve Been Gone Far Too Long: Field Study Fiascos and Expedition Disasters, ed. Monique Borgerhoff-Mulder and Wendy Logsdon, 1996. This second travel disaster book I’ve read by RDR Publishers. I find these books to be delightful. This one is longer pieces than I Really Should Have Stayed Home, but organized thematically. While this is an excellent book, unless you are interested in the subject, you are likely to find I Really Should Have Stayed Home more interesting.
The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Thornton Wilder, 1927. This is a really interesting book. It is incredibly sparse from a plot perspective (climax? antagonist? sorry, just teaching my students about these things so they are on my mind). It is interesting and I do recommend reading it, but it’ll be one to reread in order to see what is between the lines. I’ll get back to it someday, and then perhaps I’ll really have an idea about Brother Juniper’s question.

07/2008

Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions, Dan Ariely, 2008. I highly recommend this book, one of the more delightful social science books I’ve ever read. Ariely studies behavioral economics (I’m not sure how that is different from social psychology), and purports to demonstrate that, contradictory to the assumptions of traditional economics a la Adam Smith, our decisions are not rational but are subject to systematic (and therefore predictable) irrationality. Writing lucid prose, Ariely walks readers through a series of experiements outlining some areas in which our behavior is irrational. For me, and I think for most other observers of those around them, Ariely’s research will be quite convincing. It certainly agrees with what I’ve seen of human nature. Let me know after you read this book. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts.
Cat Man, Edward Hoagland, 1955. Essayist (and Bennington prof) Edward Hoagland’s first novel is about an outcast cat-keeper traveling with Ringling (though the circus goes unnamed) in the late ’40’s or early ’50’s, a job Hoagland himself performed for two summers. No matter how much changes, it stays the same: traveling with the circus, it is incredible to get the picture of how it was so long ago. Things have changed: the conditions on the train, the racism, the chauvanism (to a lesser extent), the labor, labor, labor of putting up the big top. But the vibe, for lack of a more specific word, is the same. It is the same carnival of alcoholics and hard-workers and exploitation and delight. Do I recommend this book? Not really, unless you have an interest in the circus or the time period. It is a period novel, dark, with a pulpy picture on the cover, about rejection. You decide.
Two Dogs, a Donkey, and a Frenchwoman, Mike Sanger, 2007. This delightful book, published by Bennington prof Sally Sugarman and her husband Bob’s Mountainside Press, is the memoir of Sanger’s comedy dog act. Sanger is a delightful writer, and after the darkness of Hoagland’s Cat Man, it was good to read a happy circus book. Sanger’s memoir is noteable not only for his writing and the breadth of his experience, but also for the history it covers, from the heyday of the European circus to harder tmes, Victoria, the 60’s and 70’s, to the present. He writes about life on the road, his beloved animals, and some of the challenges of keeping up the act. I highly recommend this book for everybody, especially anybody with an interest in circus or a fondness for memoir. You can find out more about it at www.mountainsidepress.com.

06/2008

Sing Down the Moon, Scott O’Dell, 1970. I read this book because several of my students are reading it for school. I isn’t my style, but it isn’t bad either, and the story is gripping when not overwhelmingly depressing. So I hope they like it. I suspect that the irresolute ending will irk them. I do wonder how well O’Dell portrays the Navaho. Are the names accurate or cliche, for example? All in all, it wouldn’t be my first choice for Native American reading, but it is at my students’ level and so perhaps it is the best accessible for them. That’s not a resounding endorsement; take out of it what you will.
The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai, 2006. Another not-rousing endorsement. It is not often that I come upon a novel that is difficult for me to read, but this one pushed me. It is written in a dense jungle of description, adjectives and fifty-cent words like “pusillanimous” populated the writing to the point of obfuscation. I haven’t read many Indian novelists, but this style echoes those other books. While this book was not easily accessible to me, it could be brilliant for someone who lets it into his or her head. I recommend it when you’re in a patient, emotional, and ready-for-something-sad mood.
Going Solo, Roald Dahl, 1986. Dahl fails to outdo himself, but still tells a good story of his time with the RAF in WWII. After a captivating story about the insanity of British travelers, he WWII adventures are somewhat anticlimactic. I’m not sorry I read it, but my recommendation is to start with Boy, proceed to the novels, and perhaps read some of his exquisite short stories for adults.
The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure. The “Good Parts” version, abridged by William Goldman, 1973. “A Hot Fairy Tale,” the cover announces. Amazingly, there’s more to say than that: This book is brilliant. Goldman’s fake abridgment (I was fooled and spent an hour trying to find the unabridged version) is a satire on fairy tales and publishing and American dreams. And his writing is something to learn from, in its surprises and its plain vocabulary. The book is, as usual, better than the movie. I know I’ll be reading this one again, and hope you will be, too.
Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe, 1719. Retold by James Baldwin, 1957. I generally avoid abridgments and retellings (see above), but 1) I had no choice, and 2) I think one can make an exception for James Baldwin. I’ve never read Crusoe, but since a student is reading this book, I figured I should, too. I enjoyed the survival adventure of it, and trust that Baldwin did not take out too much of the self-righteous prejudice of a man who was both European and British. I recommend this book, the original on principal, but Baldwin’s version is no second choice.
I Really Should Have Stayed Home: Worst Journeys from Harare to Eternity, Ed. by Roger Rapoport and Bob Drews, 2001. This hi-larious collection of travel mishaps is well worth the read. With misadventures ranging from scorpions hitchhiking in one’s luggage to Belgium’s swimming-pool dress codes (speedos required) to cultural misunderstanding, it will make you laugh, rejoice that you weren’t there, and want to hit the road all at once. This collection has two of the best introductory paragraphs I’ve ever read, which I have found helpful as examples for my students. Take this one: “As I lay sleepily on the bed of our Manuel Antonio bungalow, watching the Costa Rican trees sway gently outside the open door, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the closet.” “What happened next?!” my students cried. Anything that can do that is an effective introduction.
Watership Down, Richard Adams, 1972. This is one of the best books I’ve ever read. Certainly in the top 10, perhaps even in the top 5. Adams is an exquisite story teller, and his novel is captivating for, among other things, his ability to create a society that is truly not human. Yes, it is misogynistic. Yes, it is not truly rabbit. But the feat of creating this world with its values and mythology (one of my favorite parts) and language and limitations: it rivals Tolkien but is much darker and more of this world. I recommend this book for everybody. Settle down and enjoy it; you won’t be sorry.

05/2008

The Shanghai Tunnel, Sharan Newman, 2008. Sharan Newman’s book, set in the Stumptown era of Portland (shortly after the Civil War), reveals a world of vice, corruption, and general Wild-Westness not usually associated with Oregon. Her research is meticulous, however, and she is able to paint quite an interesting picture. (My favorite moment, not surprisingly, is when the main character sees Mt. Hood for the first time without previously being aware of its existence. Newman does a good job of conveying the majesty of the mountains.) The book takes its name from a series of tunnels that run under what is now Old Town, Chinatown, and Downtown Portland. The tunnels were originally built to protect shipping goods from the rain, but were soon put to other uses, including the frequent Shanghaiing of intoxicated able-bodied men. Newman’s excellent research translates into a great backdrop for a mediocre story. The dialog and characterization are somewhat repetitive, and, as a result, feel unoriginal after the first few chapters. The story, while captivating, is uneven. I recommend this book if you live in Portland. Outside of Stumptown, unless you love historical mysteries, you’d be better of reading Dame Christie.

The Good Life, Helen and Scott Nearing, 1989. This single-volume compilation of Living the Good Life (1970) and Continuing the Good Life (1979) documents the Nearings’ decades of off-the-grid homesteading in Vermont and Maine beginning in the Great Depression, long before hordes of escaping New Yorkers followed the Nearings to Vermont and transformed Stratton Mountain, near their farm, from a forested wilderness into a popular ski resort. The Nearings’ story is fascinating, and their methods interesting for anybody interested in growing food, especially in a cold climate. (For decades the Nearings’ grew all of their own food except grain, even in Jamaica, VT, and Harborside, ME, two less-than-ideal growing locations. They claim to have grown greens up to eleven months per year. But you’ll have to read the book to find out how.) The Nearings’ idyllic story breaks down during their discussion of Vermont society, in which they criticize the natives for their lack of cooperative spirit and display an all-to-familiar radical elitism. Their intolerance for less enlightened folk notwithstanding, it is a good read. I just wish I’d read it when I still lived in Vermont instead of waiting until I’d gone.
What Kids Buy and Why: The Psychology of Marketing to Kids, Dan S. Acuff, 1997. This book from one of Sally’s classes (oh you Benningtonians) has sat on my shelf for a while. Now that I’m teaching all ages, I thought I’d pick it up. It is a child psychology book for the marketing crowd, but certainly useful to teachers, too. Exploring children’s physiological and psychological development, Acuff discusses cognitive growth and social and emotional needs for young people at all stages of their life. It didn’t give me any breakthrough epiphanies, but I did ingest some food for thought, and perhaps even use, at a later date.
Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Lynne Truss, 2006 (trade paper: I recommend getting this edition). Do you like Monty Python’s Flying Circus? If so, I recommend Eats, Shoots & Leaves, though how a grammar book can evoke that fabulous five remains a mystery. Lynn Truss’s historical, and hysterical, exploration of those squiggles, dashes, and dots (or “full stops”) that make writing’s meaning clear is a good choice for a light read or an educational one. Truss takes a long view punctuation, detailing the development of the system, especially after the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press. In doing so, the reader learns how each mark evolved and develops a greater appreciation for its nuanced uses and powers. Books don’t often make me laugh out loud, but this one did. I highly, highly recommend it.

04/2008

The Sons of Heaven, Kage Baker, 2007. Baker finishes her exploration of fate and freedom, and somehow manages to tie all her loose ends together. At the end of the seven-part Company series, I have greater appreciation for her as a writer. It is interesting, as a reader, to so clearly see someone’s skill grow and mature. The end, alas, is not quite satisfactory, but they almost never are (and let me insert a morose note here that the same is true of life, as of fiction), but it is deft nevertheless. My recommendation remains: it is worth reading, mostly if you enjoy sci-fi series, and her novel ideas and choices make it not only a good read, but intellectually interesting.
The Elements of Cooking: Translating the Chef’s Craft for Every Kitchen, Michael Ruhlman, 2007. While fascinating (who knew that salting was a cook’s most important skill), I don’t think reading this will make you a better cook. However, if you want food for thought, read the essays in the front of the book (on subjects such as salt, a cook’s five essential tools, the egg, and stock). The glossary of cooking terms in the back of the book is also awesome.
The Fine Art of Small Talk, Debra Fine, 2005. Perhaps the only self-help book I’ve ever read. I picked it up after I had a bad time at a party, felt lonely, and was down on myself for being shy. Actually, I don’t feel bad at all anymore, the result of set down more roods in Portland rather than reading this book. Still, it was worth the read. It gave me a few things to think about, though it probably won’t make me a better conversationalist, and also, the writing was pretty good. For a self-help book.
Dirty Politics is Fun, H. B. Fox, 1982. A humor book written by my roommate Steven’s grandfather. Fun and a quick read, if you can find the book; I had to borrow it from Steven. Reminds me a lot of M. Twain, though (and I know S. won’t be insulted when I say this) Fox is no Sam Clemens. Fox assumes the persona of Harold Smith, the editor of a weekly in a small Texas town, who wages a witty campaign for Congress. After one term, Smith decides that Oat Hill is more fun than D.C. and heads home. I am hoping to find other Fox books, and if you can, I recommend you pick one up for a quick read.
Tree and Leaf, J. R. R. Tolkien, 2001. I read “On Fairy-Stories,” and “Leaf by Niggle,” an essay and a short story, respectively, both written in the late ’30s. “Leaf” is pretty dark. “On Fairy-Stories” is an interesting insight into Tolkien’s thinking on art and writing, and on what we would now call “fantasy.” Having read it, I will certainly appreciate Middle Earth more next time I read it. Having said that, it is a little too long for my taste, and the most salient points seem to be captured well in this quote: “We make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.” That is what it means to be made in God’s image.
The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Brian Selznick, 2007. The winner of this years Caldecott, Hugo Cabret is a gorgeous combination of prose and pictures. It is not, however, illustrated. This story of an urchin hiding in a Paris train station and seeking message from his dead father alternates between words and graphic narration. The pictures, like stills from a silent film (which is appropriate, considering plot twists that I leave you to discover), tell the story as surely as the writing. Selznick’s use of these pictures is brilliant – they stop time and build suspense – and seems likely to inspire a new style of storytelling. The book is worth reading for its narrative techniques alone, but it succeeds in other areas as well. It is a beautiful book, not only the pictures, but the design and layout, too. But the story is best of all. A little sentimental, I got misty-eyed toward the end; read it when you want to close a book and feel good.
The 2000-Mile Turtle (and Other Episodes from Editor Harold Smith’s Private Journal), H. B. Fox, 1975. The second, and probably last Fox book I’ll read (mostly because they are hard to come by), this one is in the Multnomah County Library, and so accessible to anyone in this part of Oregon. Not quite as good as Dirty Politics is Fun (see above), but easier to find, this book does have some charming stories recounting how Smith got is start in the paper business. The end is a little to far-fetched but lacks the bravado of Dirty Politics that makes it work. Nevertheless, worth the read. Three-and-a-half of five stars.
The Brothers K, David James Duncan, 1992. The first section of this book made me laugh as hard as anything since Catch-22. The rest put me one page away from tears. Duncan’s narrator, one Kincaid Chance, starts us out in first person (oh, how seductive and powerful and under appreciated) with a narrative voice strong as Huck Finn’s and just as vernacular. But this time it is the speech of the Northwest. Camas, Washington, to be specific. A combination of family love and destruction, baseball, Vietnam, baseball, hippies, Seventh Day Adventists, and baseball, Duncan’s book will grab even those who don’t love the American pastime. While the setting of this book, in Southern Washington and the Portland area, perhaps put it a little closer to my heart, even those who won’t laugh at references to the ‘Shoug and it’s unforgettable aroma will still find this an unforgettable read.

03/2008

The World Without Us, Alan Weisman, 2007. Weisman’s fascinating book asks what would become of our world if we are abducted by Kodos and Kang or otherwise vanished without a trace. To find out, Weisman takes readers across the globe to talk to engineers responsible for maintaining locks and dams in Panama’s Canal Zone and New York’s urban infrastructure, paleobiologists in Arizona, biologists at Chernobyl and the Koreas’ DMZ, art conservationists, chemists, philosophers, and other interesting people. The lesson seems to be that our current M.O. is worse than whatever we will leave behind: hot Chernobyl and the mine-ridden DMZ have both been recolonized by otherwise rare wildlife, but the jury is still out on the long-term effects of radioactive waste and pollutants (e.g. dioxins, PCBs) that will likely still infect environmental systems when the sun burns into a red giant. Weisman seems to say that without us, the Earth will return to some sort of normal in spite of what we leave behind, but I would have appreciated a more in-depth discussion on this issue. The book is fascinating nonetheless, and a must-read for anyone interested in understanding our long-term impact and how to mitigate it – and perhaps how to make sure we’re around to enjoy the results.
Teach Like Your Hair’s on Fire: The Method and Madness inside Room 56, Rafe Esquith, 2007. Celebrity teacher Rafe Esquith tells you how it is done in this latest teacher autobio. Unlike many other teacher-against-the-odds success stories (think Freedom Writers and Educating Isme), Esquith is still a teacher after decades. He has lots of good ideas – all very intimidating to someone like me who thinks perhaps living your work is not such a good idea – but also inspiring. He takes his fifth grade class on tours to perform Shakespeare. He teaches his kids fine cinema. They make crazy art projects. He has some good ideas about discipline. It is a little hard for someone in his position not to be smug – it is a book about what he’s done right, after all, but he is also easy to take seriously. Not great literature, but certainly a book I’d keep on my teaching shelf.
My Side of the Mountain, Jean Craighead George, 1959. A childhood survival classic, perhaps like Hatchet (though since I haven’t read that yet, I wouldn’t be able to say for sure). This book is excellent. At the moment, I am a little sad, though, realizing how much our youthful knowledge of nature has declined. Would kids today recognize a box turtle? (And, even if they lived in the country and played outside – no longer a given, would Oregon kids know one? The animals of my youth are only regional ideas.) We’ve lost some of ourselves by losing the shared experience of the outdoors, and that is a problem, because it will be that much easier to destroy what is left of the outdoors, and of ourselves, too, perhaps.
The Machine’s Child, Kage Baker, 2006. I guess I just can’t get enough. Baker has mastered the cliffhanger, and I’m itching to get the next book from the library and see what happens.
Booked on the Morning Train: A Journey Through America, George F. Scheer, III, 1991. In the late 80’s, Scheer took Amtrak around the US. This has been a fascinating read for me, as an appreciator of trains. I especially like the railroad history he is able to weave in; truly, knowing the past is a good way to make meaning of the present. Also, now I’m super inspired to take Amtrak from Denver to Oakland – it seems one of the most beautiful routes possible. (I remember seeing a train high up a mountainside in El Dorado Canyon, and wonder if the passenger trains use the same track. There can’t be that many routes over the Rockies.) Scheer doesn’t capture the US as well as, say, Steinbeck or Least Heat Moon, but he does a good job of describing what it is like to be on the move.

02/2008

Them, Nathan McCall, 2007. The best example of telling rather than showing, to get some perennial writing advice backward, I’ve seen in a long time, McCall’s Them is nonetheless a provocative read. Taking on issues of race and class in a gentrifying Atlanta neighborhood, McCall throws subtlety aside, so you’re guaranteed to understand just how complicated it is. Two things really annoyed me: “them” is italicized way too often, and it seemed to me he falls back on stereotypes for his characters. Whether that is deliberate, intended to get the point across more clearly, or the result of exploring a new genre (Them is McCall’s first novel), I can’t say. While I don’t recommend it for the prose, this books would be a good read for anybody living in Portland or any other area experiencing gentrification.
God’s Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse, James Weldon Johnson, 1927. These poems shook my breath. I first heard them in Meeting when a Friend was moved to stand and recite “The Creation.” Johnson, active in the Harlem Renaissance, modeled these poems on the oral tradition that also inspired Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr’s speeches. They are beautiful and might angle your world view a little, especially where religion is concerned. I recommend this book.
The Life of the World to Come, Kage Baker, 2004. This novel of the Company is a non-stop thriller. It is amazing how Baker is bringing it all together. It makes me wonder if she had this planned out all along, or if it fell into place as she was writing. Pick it up, but you may get to a place where it is hard to put down.
Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck, 1962. One of the most satisfying travel books I’ve read – Steinbeck takes the reader not on his trip, but on his journey. See post “Gone to Look for America” for a more detailed review.
Two books not fully read: Wilderness Tips, Margaret Atwood, 1991 & Consider the Lobster, David Foster Wallace, 2005. I normally don’t put books down, but circumstances required that these books be returned to the library, and neither of two books – one of short stories and one of essays – interested me enough to read every piece in it. Margaret Atwood’s short stories are well written, but were not what I was looking for just now. If you want well-written, dark, feminist short stories, pick this book up. Consider the Lobster is a completely different beast. Essays, some quite long, range from literary criticism to 9/11 experiences to accounts of Wallace in grotesque, as in absurd, situations. These include a porn-industry trade show and the Main Lobster Festival. Wallace’s writing is engaging, but his rambling footnotes can be tiring to read and the essay, while entertaining, did not speak to my soul. It’s worth picking up, just don’t pull a me and try to read it straight through.

01/2008

And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street, Dr. Seuss, 1937. And for my first book of the new year… Dr. Seuss! (Everybody needs a little Dr. Seuss once in a while.) I vividly remember standing on the corner of Mulberry Street in Manhattan and thinking “Oh. So this place is real.” (Not that I should have been surprised. After all, the good Doctor could find places with names like Kalamazoo for his rhymes, by which standard “Mulberry St.” is positively benign.) I picked this up with the idea of trying to come up with a Portland version. Klickitat St. in NE Portland, of Romona fame, would fit the meter, but is otherwise unremarkable. Anyway, that project is simmering on the back burner, but I may whip it out when inspiration hits. “Interstate Ave.” would also work. Perhaps when the next media circus breaks out (those following Portland news will need no explanation), I’ll compose an incisive satire.
I’m a Stranger Here Myself, Bill Bryson, 1999. Bryson is a gifted writer, but this book, a collection of columns he wrote for a British weekly when he moved to Hanover, NH after living in England for twenty years, is about as cohesive as any such collection can be, which is to say, it isn’t. Don’t get me wrong; it is still worth reading. It is funny, often gut-bustingly so, and contains many delightful chapters: How to Have Fun at Home , in which Bryson discusses how to achieve the “richest, throatiest sound” or the most satisfying “Vesuvius effect” from one’s first garbage disposal; and Friendly People, a sentimental piece which reminded me of the joys of living in rural North Carolina and small-town New England. Word Play, in which the author improves upon the English language, was one of my personal favorites. The chief pleasure of this book is the outsider’s perspective it offers, and I would recommend it for that if nothing else.
The Children of Húrin, J. R. R. Tolkien, ed. Christopher Tolkien, 2007. Hamlet meets Oedipus Rex in this epic tragedy. A mighty quick read, it is targeted for the audience who doesn’t have the patience for The Silmarillion but is nonetheless interested in Tolkien’s mythologies. For those with the patience, I would recommend The Silmarillion, which I feel is more complete. This book hints at many of the people and stories The Silmarillion tells, but without context it is a tad confusing. But I would do you a disservice if, by telling you The Silmarillion is better, I convinced you to read neither. If you don’t feel like picking up a book of biblical proportion, at least read The Children of Húrin.
Mind the Light: Learning to See with Spiritual Eyes, J. Brent Bill, 2006. The ambiguities of my spirituality and beliefs aside for a moment, the practice of faith takes discipline, especially, I find, when it is as internal as the Quakers’ silence. So I looked for a book to give some direction to my thoughts on the matter. This, however, was a poor choice. Bill proposes using physical luminescence as a focus for finding the spiritual light. But reading 130 pages was a bit too much, even for someone who thinks as literally as I do. In the end, it was not only uninspirational, but somewhat sophomoric. No, this book is not one I would recommend.
Small World: A Microcosmic Journey, Brad Herzog, 2004. Herzog idolizes Mark Twain, perhaps even aspires to imitate him. But while his writing is good, his character is flawed. Herzog’s prose is generally engaging, especially his portraits of the characters he meets traveling to small American towns with oversized global names (such as Moscow, ME and Jerusalem, AK). But he overreaches, drawing sometimes strained and often unnecessary parallels between these American backwaters and their cosmopolitan counterparts. The result is an easy and entertaining read in which a less-than-genuine author finds what he expected to find, but without the incisive wit or illuminating human insights of his hero.
Still Life With Woodpecker, Tom Robbins,1980. What fun! I would recommend at least one Tom Robbins book to everyone. I haven’t read Tom Robbins since my sophomore year in college, when my roommate, Emily, lent me Skinny Legs and All. While that book still has a special glow – perhaps no other TR book will live up to my first – Still Life is a brilliant read. It reminds me a lot of Emily, actually, who was writing an essay about sex at the time. Her out-of-the-ordinary metaphors were, well… Let’s just say they are reminiscent of Robbins’ metaphors in Still Life. How can writing that is so wacky be so vivid, so erotic? Actually, that is not the most important question I have after reading this book. Really, what I’m dying to know is does TR believe what he writes (or is it merely the philosophy of some typewriter-channeling persona)? Does he see life as erotically as his characters do? And, especially, what is he like in bed? (Actually, now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I also wonder if Robbins’ sex writing is equally erotic to both genders or if it is more so for men. Well, if you read this book, you can let me know what you think.)
On Subbing: The First Four Years, 2nd ed., Dave Roche, 2005. The journal of a Portland-based substitute educational assistant with a great sense of humor, this was a wonderful Christmas present and a good book to read on the job. I’d recommend it to other substitutes, especially.
A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, Ishmael Beah, 2007. Multnomah County Library has a neat program called Everybody Reads in which they distribute copies of a book, I think for free with the idea that people will pass them on, and encourage people to read the same book and talk about it. Meet this years selection. I recommend reading it, but only when you’re in the mood to stomach the brutality of war. Beah is frank about the experience, and doesn’t dress it up or hide it in flowery language. I think this book would be especially good for middle school teachers, since Beah was of that age when these events took place and so I think the students would relate well. Plus, the language is simple enough and the story compelling enough to keep struggling readers interested.
Black Projects, White Knights: The Company Dossiers, Kage Baker, 2002. Baker’s short stories are a blast. I recommend this book of gems. But beware. I was initially skeptical of her Company stories, but I’ve been suckered in hook, line, and sinker (or, I should say, novel, short story, and all).
Wow, I read a lot in January. And A Walk in the Woods, Bill Bryson, 1998, was a good way to finish it off. This book is an excellent first Bryson read, certainly better than I’m a Stranger Here Myself. Bryson travelogue is well-crafted, humorous, and quick. I was especially interested in the relationship between story and fact and the character of Katz, Bryson’s hiking companion and foil. This book makes me want to jump up, sling on a pack, and hit the woods. Or the typewriter. Read and enjoy.

12/2007

The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Michael Pollan, 2006. Who thought agricultural policy could be interesting? Pollan does a great job of taking tombs of information and synthesizing them into a single, eminently readable, only slightly more slender tomb. But don’t be put off by its size; it is a quick read. Pollan’s writing did get tiresome at times, and he is just a little full of himself, but it was still hard to put the book down. The Omnivore’s Dilemma will change the way you think about food. No small feat for something (substance, action, ritual, artifact) so deeply ingrained in our culture. Still, and this may be its biggest weakness, it probably won’t change the way you eat, even if now you’ll know why you should.
The Second Mouse, Archer Mayor, 2006. I picked this book, my second (and the latest installment) of the Joe Gunther mystery series set in Vermont. The book begins with a great quote, which I won’t hesitate to share. The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese. Witty, but now that you’ve read that much, you’d be better off reading Mayor’s The Surrogate Thief (below). Even though this novel is set in Bennington (sigh), Thief is a better read.
Mendoza in Hollywood, Kage Baker, 2000. Time-traveling cyborgs in the Wild West. That’s right. Time-traveling cyborgs in 1860’s Hollywood, one of which is a movie buff who can’t stop pointing out the (future site of the) Hollywood Bowl, Avenue of th Stars, and celebrity residences. This novel is also great historical fiction for what you learn about 19th-Century L.A. and environs, although it can sometimes be difficult to separate Baker’s feelings about what L.A. has become from what it was then. When I first started reading the Novels of the Company series, I was going to read just one. Then I said three. Now I’m resigned to reading all seven. I guess that is a sign of decent writing, and of a reader who gets attached to the characters. ¡Viva Mendoza!
Marriage, a History: from Obedience to Intimacy, or, How Love Conquered Marriage, Stephanie Coontz, 2005. This book is remarkable not for its lucidity, but for being such an easy read while synthesizing information spanning from Ancient Athens, through the Middle Ages, to the present. Coontz chronicles the transformation of marriage from a basic tool of diplomacy (for the wealthy) and home economics (for the masses), where people’s allegiance was to their parents and siblings first, to a love match expected to offer emotional fulfillment in which the partners were devoted first to their spouse and children, to the current smörgåsbord of widely-accepted lifestyle choices. Along the way, you are exposed to many cultures of the past. My biggest problem with the book is that most of those cultures are European. Coontz occasionally makes a comparison with China or Japan; it would improve the books if these were more systematic. This is especially true when she is describing marriage today. Is the Western love match displacing alternate models in the East? Do Confucian, Buddhist, and Hindu understandings of marriage still dominate in China, India, and Japan, or is industrialization (and the legacy of Colonialism in India) changing the meaning of marriage? Considering that over 1/3 of the world’s population lives in India and China, this is no small question. Nevertheless, Coontz’s book is a triumph of historical writing, and I highly recommend it to anyone wanting to learn about family life in the United States today, how it got to this point, and how the past was not what we think.
The Graveyard Game, Kage Baker, 2001. With more cliffhangers than Colorado’s El Dorado Canyon, Baker’s transition from past to future is adept, resulting in the most gripping Company novel so far. If this were book one in the series, I would recommend it with enthusiasm. But it is book four, and I can’t say whether or not it would be as powerful without reading the first three books (below). Doing so would not be a waste of time, but I can’t say that it would be the best use of it either. However, if this trend of consistent improvement continues, I’ve still got three really good reads ahead of me. I’m looking forward to it.

11/2007

Bread: A Baker’s Book of Techniques and Recipes, Jeffrey Hamelman, 2004. This book, written by the bakery director at King Arthor Flour in Norwich, Vermont (Yeah, Vermont!), is super helpful. I’m getting more serious about my home baking as an opportunity to learn to make gormet breads, and this is useful both as a reference and a source for formulas (I’d been looking for a book that had formulas in weight – standard for professional bakers – but also scaled to batch sizes practical for the home). While a book will never be a substitute for practical experience, I highly recommend this one to anybody who woud like to learn more about bread. Just the parts on techniques and ingredients is incredibly helpful and also inspiring.
The Portland Edge, ed. Connie P. Ozawa, 2004. OK. So it took me a lot longer to finish this book than I anticipated. The Portland Edge, a collection of chapters by Portland-area urban planners about Portland’s famed… urban planning, isn’t exactly a quick read. Still, I’m glad I read it. I know a lot more now about Portland’s history and the forces that shaped its growth, and it is good background information for understanding some of the current conflicts shaping the city’s politics.
Sky Coyote, Kage Baker, 1999.The second novel of The Company series. I gave the first one (In the Garden of Iden) a poor review, but experience certainly does help a writer. I couldn’t put this one down. The characters are growing on me, when somehow, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop reading at book three. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you like Sci-Fi series, but if you do, and curious takes on time travel interest you, then certainly pick this book up.
The Surrogate Thief, Archer Mayor, 2004. The Joe Gunther (now there’s a name that fits the place) series of detective stories is set in Vermont. Yes, my former home state has made it onto the shelves of the Multnomah County Library. A thoroughly enjoyable murder mystery, this is brilliant literature of place. It is not brilliant literature, but neither is Vermont. Not only does Mayor give spot-on descriptions of Vermont and capture the culture, people, and places, but the style of writing is Vermont, too. Unpretentious. To the point. I don’t know if I can explain it (nor would I try, if I were a real Vermonter). If you want to see what I mean, read the book. You’ll enjoy it whether you’ve lived in Vermont or not.

10/2007

Holes, Louis Sacher, 1998. From the author of the Wayside School series, a book to tug on your inner child (but leave your outer adult satisfied). The Disney adaptation is also really good, which is how the book got on my reading list. I recommend the movie, but do yourself a favor; read the book first.
Fairy Tales, Terry Jones, 1981. I picked up this delightful book at the Friends of the Multnomah County Library’s semiannual book sale. Beautiful watercolor illustrations by Michael Foreman accompany the Python’s original stories. This book is probably not easy to find, but if you come across it, I recommend giving it a read. There is plenty of comeuppance – all of it enjoyable – to go around.
Urban Bikers’ Tricks & Tips, revised ed., Dave Glowacz, 2004. The recent tragic death of a cyclist in Portland lead to heated discussions among the biking community [1, 2]. I ride my bike a lot, and so I followed the advice of one blog poster and checked a couple books about urban and defensive riding out of the library. This is a quick read – mostly illustrated, in fact. It is an all-around book, covering riding, locking, buying, adjusting, attire, et cetera. I wouldn’t recommend it if it took longer to read, but if you read quickly it could be worth a cover to cover. Otherwise, it has value as a reference book.
In the Garden of Iden, Kage Baker, 1997. My roommate loaned me this one, and at first, I didn’t appreciate it. I saw it as misanthropic and clunky (it reads like a first novel – and it may well be). Still, I found myself wanting to read the next book in the series. After we talked about it, I began to appreciate it more. It is a book with time travel (set Bloody Mary’s England), but the time travel isn’t even a plot element. This subtle approach to hi-tech sci-fi is intriguing, and worth more reading.
The Art of Cycling: A Guide to Bicycling in 21st-Century America, Robert Hurst, 2007. This book is timely reading, considering Portland just suffered its second fatal bike-truck collision is as many weeks. While Urban Bikers (see above) is an all-around handbook, Hurst focuses exclusively on safety (plus a fascinating diversion into the history of bicycles). His basic argument is that while bicycles may legally be vehicles, acting like a car is not sufficient protection sans a one-ton metal shell. He offers a bajillion suggestions for defensive cycling. I unequivocally recommend this book to any regular bike rider. It’ll help to keep you all in one piece.

. 09/2007

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J. K. Rowling, 2007. Rowling’s satisfying conclusion to the Harry Potter series provides a little too much closure, but is still a page turner. I finished the 750 pages in under 24 hours. I especially appreciate the way she dealt with Snape (though I won’t say more, lest I spoil the ending for somebody). Rowling’s writing is much improved, which bodes well for her post-Potter career.
Ignatius Rising: The Life of John Kennedy Toole, René Pol Nevils and Deborah George Hardy, 2001. Fascinated by A Confederacy of Dunces (see 08/2007, below), I had to read Toole’s biography. It is a remarkable and tragic story, somewhat hampered by a mediocre telling. Nevertheless, I recommend this book to anybody of loves Dunces. Of course, I read this book to gain some insight into Toole’s novel – the main thing I take away from it is that Thelma Toole is Irene Reilly. She seems like an abhorrent woman. John Kennedy is not Ignatius, although it seems he did bestow some of his own experiences on his creation. While this book might be worth reading, you could probably find the same information with a little legwork on the Internet.
Trouble with Lichen, John Wyndham, 1960. Cold War science fiction. Wyndham is an excellent writer, of an older style, in which realism (in the dialog, for example) is less important than its significance. The contrived dialog feels old-fashioned, but that doesn’t stop it from being an entertaining page turner. This books may be timely, but I can’t say I agree with its politics – very COINTELPRO/Patriot Act.
Something Wicked This Way Comes, Ray Bradbury, 1962. A truly scary book with beautiful, lyrical writing: He heard, or thought he heard, Jim out in the starlight leaping way up and coming flat down like a spring tomcat on the vast xylophone. I have only half an idea what this book is about.

. 08/2007

A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole, 1980. Toole’s posthumous masterpiece made me laugh harder than any book in years. I hadn’t heard much about this book before I read it, and so I waited far too long. Go out. Find a copy. And read it for yourself.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, J. K. Rowling, 2005. Gripping. It only took me three days to read this tome in preparation for my excursion into the Deathly Hallows (I’m currently the 489th person in line for one of the library’s 500 copies). The most burning question in my mind at the moment is whether Snape is good or evil. I think he is good and the whole thing was a series of unfortunate events, but I won’t know until I read the finalé.
Slaughterhouse-Five, or, The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., 1969. This is the first Vonnegut book I’ve read. It is confusing. That is OK, I’m sure war is confusing, too, and let us not forget that the protagonist is crazy, so his story is liable to be confusing just for that. It is interesting to me that this book, so famously about the firebombing of Dresden, has so little Dresden in. But the bombing was short. It was over. They were dead, I suppose. So it goes. But if we comfort the grieving by saying, “they are not really dead, because they are still alive in your heart,” then we must say the same about the bombing. It is not really over. Poo-tee-weet.

10/200

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