the dog says how by kevin kling

I read this book sometime in October. It was spectacular. Well, err derr. Kevin Kling is a professional storyteller, a playwright and an NPR contributor. The short stories here completely jumped from the pages right into my imagination. Squirrel monkeys, family dinners, car trips, Australia, morphine, Of Mice and Men, bachelor parties, and schoolyard interactions all receive at least a mention...and I was thrilled at every turn.

Regardless of the amount of detail used or the affectations of his own speech, Kevin Kling is gifted as a writer. There are many stories that I could quote, but given the season and my own place in the world, I give you an excerpt from this:

the view from the card table

(please note that immediately preceding these paragraphs, Kling has just spent some time explaining his aunt's breathing sounds, complete with onomatopoetic exclamations and making a comparison to someone running in corduroys. Ba-zing! Zhuup Zhuup, Read sisters!)




Uncle Dale blesses the food and our fellowship and that everyone made it safe. He prays in Jesus' name and calls him, "Our Savior." Our Savior. I start thinking, Jesus is our Savior? Don't you have to be in big trouble to be needed to be saved? I mean, doesn't a drowning person need to be saved? And Jesus is constantly having to come to earth to save us. What does that mean?

Then, I remembered the Meyers's cats. My friend, John Klein, was hired to watch the Meyers's two cats while they were out of town, these lazy, hedonistic cats. I mean, I never saw 'em move, but there were signs of destruction everywhere: chair legs shredded down to toothpicks, an acrid odor in one corner. But, you'd look at these cats and they'd sit there like, "Yes, I know. It was like that when I got here, too." Lazy, hedonistic cats. So anyway, Mr. Meyer told John to feed them twice a day and give them a treat "when you think about it." John and I laughed at what the treat might be. Then, one day, about a week later, we're riding our bikes, and I mention to John, "How's it going with the cats?"

John hits his brake and says, "The cats! The cats! Oh, the Meyers's cats! I forgot all about them."

I said, "They'll be okay, John. They can go a couple days without food."

"No!" he says, "it hasn't been a couple of days. It's been a week. I forgot this whole week."

So we raced over to the Meyers's, and the cats were still alive, but, I mean, just barely. Luckily, the toilet seat was up, so they'd had something to drink. And when they saw John, they didn't think, "Oh, there's the guy who forgot us." No, they saw John as the one who saved them. Every time John came back from then on, those cats would see him and go crazy. "Oh, there he is! He's back." I wondered if that happened to God. "Earth. I forgot all about earth. Oh, my, me, I better get down there. Hey, what if they're mad at me? I know, I'll send the kid." And Jesus came down, and we all went crazy like the cats.

Last Nights of Paris by Philippe Soupalt (translation by William Carlos Williams)

Accomplice by Rupert Holmes

Danny, Champion of the World by Roald Dahl

Bent Road by Lori Roy

The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau

The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penney

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

A Confession by Leo Tolstoy

Until I Find You by John Irving

Where I Live by Eileen Spinelli

I was at the library for story hour with the little ladies that I nanny, and this was on the shelf. The sticker covered the author's first name, but the last jumped out at me....SPINELLI. Jerry Spinelli is one of my favorite authors, and this is told in verse-ish story poem....sold. Then I opened the book and saw that the author is actually his wife, Eileen.

Diana loves writing and astronomy, has a cozy little life (much as we all do in third grade) that revolves around her family, her best friend, and her house. Then her dad loses his job and they have to move. With phenomenal pencil drawings by Matt Phelan to accompany this gem of a succinct little story, I'm sure I'll return to read it again and revel in it's message.



"She tells us:
be brave,
be messy,
write what we feel,
tell the truth,
love who we are,
share,
keep a notebook,
take it everywhere,
open our eyes
and our hearts."

Boom! by Mark Haddon

The Book of Joe by Jonathan Tropper

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon

Things That Are by Andrew Clements

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

Songbook by Nick Hornby

The Memory of Running by Ron McLarty

Persuasion by Jane Austen

Guess what? I don't like Jane Austen. Never have. As a college sophomore, I was convinced that I would love her and attempted to write a paper on Pride & Predjudice. Much like that paper, I never finished the book. I tried. Several times. Ditto Persuasion, which was chosen for my book club. During the second attempt, I realized I should just give up when I read 4 pages before I realized that I had read them the day before. (This almost 100 pages in-gack!)

I could go on about how I think she spends to much time on exposition and she has no gift for dialogue, or how it completely infuriates and baffles me as to why she constantly switches how she refers to the main characters....But if I did that, I might offend you. Which I did to a complete stranger at Pablo's as I was venting about this book to my friend Jess. I'm still not over it. Oh, wait. Totally over it.

I Love You, Phillip Morris: A True Story of Life, Love, & Prison Breaks by Steve McVicker

This is a bit of a cheat. I read this book years ago when it first came out and I still worked in books (2003ish?). I loved the book. I was disturbed by the book. Steve McVicker is in no way a sympathetic character. The movie confirmed this.

The movie, for me, brought up a variety of questions that the book did not. Perhaps it's the portrayals (by Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor) of actors well-known, but I didn't buy into their relationship as a gay couple. I didn't suspend disbelief of their actual personas long enough to think that either man was actually gay. That said, I did find myself wondering if I would be more sympathetic to these characters if they were straight.Which was weird for me, as I've always been completely supportive of the gay community and, more specifically, my plethora of gay friends.

All in all, this is a bizarre story. Worth reading, worth watching. Even for the discomfort it causes.

This is a Book by Demetri Martin

If you're not familiar with Demetri Martin, watch Person (it's available for streaming on Netflix).

If you are familiar with Demetri Martin, then this book is everything you could expect. Charts, drawings, crossword puzzles, stories and lists. My favorites include bits about palindromes, fortune cookies and beards. So great.

Union Atlantic by Adam Haslett

"Your feelings. I mean if they're intense enough, they have consequences, right?...Do you really think our feelings are important enough to write books about?"
After reading a few positive reviews and seeing it featured at the Tattered Cover, I picked this up with great expectation. While Haslett has been forecasted to be a Fitzgerald for this generation, I was disappointed by how uneven the characters were. Some drawn with a completeness (even those on the periphery) and a few main characters left rather sterile and rudimentary.

"You ask me what's going on but you don't actually want to know. Not unless you already understand it. There's a lot of that going around at the moment--your kind of certainty."
The first half of the book escaped my usual guidelines, as it seemed to alternate every 30 pages in keeping my interest. Loosely centered on the financial climate, specifically the rise and fall of a large securities company, I was easily bored with the specifics of the markets. I was, however, initially piqued by the more broadly focused and consuming loneliness of Doug Fanning and Charlotte Graves, neighbors in the smalltown of Finden, Massachusetts.

"People pay for what they do, and more, for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it simply with the lives they lead."
As a soldier on the Vincennes, responsible for shooting down an Iranian jet over Bahrain, killing nearly 200 civilians, Fanning has spent his life reliving his part in the tragedy. He's gone on to gain tremendous success in the business world. He has recently built an offensively large mansion next door to Graves. Charlotte is a high-minded retired history teacher whose grandfather owned the land upon which Fanning's monstrosity now sits. A legal battle ensues, as we watch their interactions and reactions to the world around them.

"How insupportable, he thought, to remember in the way she did. The present didn't stand a chance against such a perfectly recollected world."
Torn relationships and severed connections eventually become the focus of all storylines, leaving this reader wanting more for these people. A melancholy satisfaction.

Room by Emma Donoghue

"Stories are a different kind of true." Jack has been told stories for the entirety of his 5 years by his mother, whom he lives with in Room. Everything that he knows is within the context of Room, an 11' x 11' space that contains his world. Jack starts asking questions and discovers that there is an Outside, and that the things he sees on TV (and has previously thought were all imaginary) actually exist.

This is a book that really can't be summarized easily without giving away pivotal plot elements. I was immediately drawn in, wondering what this room was and how they came to be living there. Eventually, these questions are answered, all in the voice of 5-year-old Jack.

Disturbing and heartbreaking while at once being hopeful and awe-filled, this is a story that sticks.

The Rose Tattoo by Tennessee Williams

I own a hardback collector's edition of Williams' collected plays. I happened upon a this newer edition in a thrift store, saw that it was edited by John Patrick Shanley and pondered buying it, then put it back on the shelf. Seconds later, I picked up a copy of Sula by Toni Morrison. The quote on the flyleaf is from The Rose Tatoo. I bought them both.

This is typical Tennessee stuff, with an Italian twist. Strong overbearing female lead, in a bit of an emotional shambles, bearing her soul to anyone who happens by. The first scene opens with children playing in the front yard, while Serafina explains the magnificence of the love she shares with her husband (including a few otherworldly details of the conception of their daughter, Rosa). The scene closes with the announcement of the husbands' accidental death. While Serafina withdraws from the world and any emotion other than grief, she expects the same of her daughter. Enter hypocracy and a charming stranger driving a fruit truck. Like I said, quintessential Williams.

The whole time I was reading, Serafina reminded me of an amalgamation of characters. As I type, I realize that I heard the same voice that I hear when I read Nana Upstairs, Nana Downstairs or any Tomie dePaola book. That makes me laugh.

The Girl Who Fell from the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow

Rachel has brown skin and blue eyes. At 11-years old, she's taking the bus with her grandmother in Portland the first time she realizes the significance of this. It's different. Heidi Durrow draws on her own experience (raised by a Danish mother and an African-American father) to explore how Rachel comes to grips with her racial identity.

The multi-layered story opens slowly. Pieces come together and we figure out that Rachel was involved in some sort of accident in Chicago before being sent to live with her old-fashioned and grass-rootsy grandmother. A boy named Brick, an aunt named Loretta, and a job at a community center all help shape Rachel's ideas of who she is.

As the story unfolds, I loved that Rachel spoke like a young girl too smart for the world around her. Unknowingly, like every smart girl does. Durrow has already been compared to classics like Harper Lee and Carson McCullers. While I'm not ready to profess that, I will eagerly anticipate her next protagonist and hope she has half the heart that her young Rachel does.

Sleepwalk with Me by Mike Birbiglia

Mike Birbiglia is someone that I've watched for quite a while. He's a stellar stand-up comedian and an occasional NPR contributor. So when I heard him talking about his battles with cancer and sleepwalking on Fresh Air, I knew I would read this book.

Everyone looks for points of connection, and I am no exception. We're the same age, so most of the cultural references are extremely relevant for me (pop or otherwise). Birbiglia takes a lot of road trips, loves Mitch Hedberg, and vividly remembers random incidents from childhood. Plus, he likes to see if he can drink enough water to make his pee clear. Safe to say, we'd be friends in real life.

I kept waiting for it to get heavy, for the cancer issue or the sleepwalking to really culminate into something BIG. While it never did, this book was a satisfying read. (However, the stand-up may forever be ruined for me. I went back to watch one of his earlier specials and it wasn't as funny. His voice is different to me now.)

She: Understanding Feminine Psychology by Robert A. Johnson

(An interpretation based on the myth of Amor and Psyche and using Jungian psychological concepts)

In October I started preparing myself for some Jungian therapy, writing down my dreams in a journal and intending to make an appointment. In January (3 months later, in typical Jill fashion) I had my first session. I was told that "my depth was on the move" and recommended some books. Another 3 months later, I finally picked this up.

During the opening chapters I found myself remembering why I didn't study much psychology in college. It seems to me that it's a whole lotta simple repetition. Change a few words every few sentences, and inundate yourself with seemingly obvious principles. (However, just because you understand it doesn't mean you've absorbed it. As became apparent each time I went back to read and found myself having to reread the previous chapter to put myself in the right headspace.)

Using the ancient characters of Aphrodite and Psyche (not to mention Eros), Johnson delves into the traditional everywoman issues. Along the way we study cultural differences, primitive societies, parables and the universal ongoing quest for love.

This is definitely a book that I will return to, and won't comment upon too much extent. Revisiting my original thoughts on psychology, I find that as the questions get bigger, my thoughts on them get smaller. I have less to say, and mostly just nod my head in agreeance. As opposed to philosophy, whereas the questions and the ideas take on a massive shape for me, and encourage all kinds of thought and open up discussion. Perhaps that's simply because I've got my intellect pretty well lined up, but my heart is out of sorts in every regard.

The Narrows by Michael Connelly

This is the sequel to the first Michael Connelly book I read. In March. That's right, a month later and I'm back for more. (I see your smirk, Adam.)

Opening 8 years after the action from The Poet closed, it draws FBI agent Rachel Walling back. Walling had been booted from the FBI's good graces and posted in smalltown North Dakota as a result of some blunders made in the original Poet case. However, the killer really only wants Walling on his trail.

Meanwhile, Harry Bosch (Connelly's main recurring character) has been hired independently to investigate a former LAPD partner's death. Inevitably, their sleuthings lead them to each other and...dun dun dun...."the narrows". Mostly I think it's lame that the title doesn't become remotely relevant until the last few chapters.

While I won't be regaling these books as literature, or even respectable reading, Connelly can whip out 500 pages of a 2 day addiction from me. And, yes, I found The Scarecrow at a thrift store for $3, so I'll be reviewing that one soon.

Things Not Seen and Things Hoped For by Andrew Clements

Now, I recently said that I wouldn't become a science fiction fan. That's the truth. I accidentally got hooked on this series. After the previous 2 books I read, I was ready for something light (enough with the heartbreak and Holocaust, already). I went to my trusty bookshelf and this was the only young adult book there that I hadn't read.

Bobby is an 11 year old living in Chicago (holler). One day he wakes to realize that he is invisible. In the ensuing weeks, Bobby and his physicist father attempt to figure out why this happened and how to reverse the condition. Clever and realistic storylines unravel, including Bobby meeting a blind girl at the University of Chicago library.

I read Things Not Seen in one day, and immediately bought Things Hoped For online, eagerly awaiting its' arrival.

The second book revolves around Gwendolyn Page, a teenage violinist in New York City vigorously preparing for her Julliard audition. Bobby, now 17-year-old Robert, is visiting New York, for his trumpet auditions. The two unexpectedly run into one another and form a fast friendship.

Super light, super cute and just what I needed. Now I wait for Things That Are.

Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel

I read Life of Pi. Twice. Nearly hated it the first time, and read it again for a book club and liked it. When I saw Beatrice and Virgil on the shelf at Tattered Cover, I was excited...if only because it's been so long since Martel published a novel. It wasn't until page 82 that it dawned on me to make any sort of comparison between the two. When that idea first struck me, I was pissed. Frustrated that he would employ the same tricks, and angered that I might fall for them again.

Needless to say, I didn't love this book. Gladly, it was a short read and held some interest in that a plethora of literary references are made within the 224 pages. Orwell, Camus, Diderot and Flaubert all make appearances-and then the obvious allusion to Dante in the title characters.

Henry is a novelist, a rather famous novelist who uses a pen name. He receives a manuscript of a play from a fan, looking for ambiguous help, and Henry tracks him down. The guy is a taxidermist, and Beatrice and Virgil are not only the main characters in his play, but also stuffed animals he keeps in his shop.

Martel repeats himself in getting to his point, and uses a combination of the play and Henry's trepidation to come to a conclusion as to what this guy wants...even though it is clear to both Henry and the reader where this story is going and what has inspired it.

The most disturbing thing, for me, is that I tortured myself by reading the appendix (of sorts) called Games for Gustav. Some 18 random hypothetical situations, each more terrifying and gut-wrenching than the last. Sadly, I then read a few aloud to friends simply to relieve myself of some of the horror.

The Maytrees by Annie Dillard

I was discussing books that affect us with my friend Danielle at The Thin Man, and this book came up as one that made her cry. Trying to blog about books as I read them, I just finished this tonight.

Toby Maytree is the books' namesake. His wife, Lou, their son Petie, and a random host of friends from the Cape Cod shoreline make up the majority of the characters. The theme of the book is love. Using poetry, Plato, and Socrates the book contemplates the idea of love being a feeling, or more likely, a choice. It acutely and gently unravels the question as it tells the story of their thirty-plus year friendships. Ugh. Profound beauty lies in these quotes. Dillard has a quiet way of pondering some of the bigger questions with which we all grapple.

"With each injury you learn how that patch of you feels."

"Every day she failed to tell him about herself and her solitude led him further astray."

"Does familiarity blur lovers' clear sight of essences and make surfaces look significant?"

"He never stopped looking, for her face was his eyes' home."

"It was never too late to record the faces you love."

"Love letters do not so much document daily love's long hours as precede them."

"Anyway, how could he ever start when now was far too soon and later was impossible?"

"Only in the face of the other did each find home."

"Could a person hold all people past and present in awareness? She further wondered if doing so was, by errant chance, the point-toward what end she had no clue. Not that life required a point. But she found herself starting to sway toward eventually considering that there might be one. A point. Any point."

Love Wins by Rob Bell

I could easily write a "review" of this one, but I'd just be one of the literal millions who have thrown their opinions into the ring. Read the book. Discuss it. Open up with people you trust. Or people you don't. This is a book that begs to be dialogued through (as I did with JRe)....I'd love to hammer things out with you. I took well over 8 pages of notes, and I'll post a few quotes that moved me here.

"Love demands freedom. We are free to resist, reject, and rebel against God's ways for us. We can have all the hell we want."

"There are questions, or more accurately, there are tensions we are free to leave fully intact. We don't need to resolve them or answer them, because we can't, and so we simply respect them, creating space for the freedom that love requires."

"Grace and generosity aren't fair. That's their very essence."

"We do ourselves great harm when we confuse the very essence of God, which is love, with the very real consequences of rejecting and resisting that love, which creates what we call hell."

My paraphrase of what Bell offers is this: You have to come to terms with your own story. Regardless of how you were shaped, but realizing that your individual experience is significant.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick

My neighbor overheard me saying that I hadn't been able to "get into" any books lately. He then suggested that I read Philip K. Dick, fully knowing that I don't do sci-fi. A few days later he gave me two books. With the preface that The Man in the High Castle loosely revolved around the I Ching, I chose this.

I easily swallowed this, as it's alternate history. The story is set in various former American cities, against a 70s backdrop wherein the Axis Powers (of Italy, Japan, and Nazi Germany) were victorious after World War II. The characters run the gamut- from a Japanese tradesman, a female American judo instructor, her estranged (and Jewish) ex-husband, to a Swedish industrialist who is actually a Reich counterintelligence representative. Lines cross, and a plethora of themes and political realities are explored.

Dick fleshes out theories and influences by employing two major works: the aforementioned I Ching, and a fictional book entitled The Grasshopper Lies Heavy. Folks from every culture turn to the I Ching for guidance, while Grasshopper is banned by the now ruling German and Japanese. Excerpts from the book are included in the story, and the characters debate the ideologies it presents.

While I won't be turning to a major science fiction fan, I enjoyed this book. The following are quotes that made me think...even if only insofar as to doubt how much I've considered my own political leanings lately. (Don't get me started on our need for an external frame of reference or how our natures are bent by our nurture...)


"It's idealism that makes him that bitter. Asking too much out of life."

"We cannot enter the monstrous schizophrenic morass of Nazi internecine intrigue; our minds cannot adapt."

"...the Doctrine of Original Sin. ...We are all doomed to commit acts of cruelty or violence or evil; that is our destiny, due to ancient factors."

"To save one life, Mr. Tagomi had to take two. The logical, balanced mind cannot make sense of that. A kindly man could be driven insane by the implications of such reality."

Going Away Shoes by Jill McCorkle

Confession: I basically bought this book for two super lame reasons. The cover is orange and there's a quote on the back from Jayne Anne Phillips. It should be mentioned that I've never actually read Phillips, but know of her for her reputation among other writers that I admire (notably that David Foster Wallace mentioned his jealously of her success as a writer and as an instructor).

Touted as a collection of stories of women and the complications of love, I was full of doubt and hope. Phillips writes, "...laugh-out-loud funny, full of sharp, incisive humor that explains us to ourselves." Explain me to myself? Sure thing.

Ultimately, I found these stories to be surface level pap on the lines of Jane Green or Sophie Kinsella...minus the humor. That'll teach me to think that I can read like a girl.

Timbuktu by Paul Auster

"For the loneliness you foster/ I suggest Paul Auster/ A book called Timbuktu."

That's a lyric from the song "Put a Penny in the Slot" by Fionn Regan. Ever since I heard it, years ago, I've looked for this book. Today I found it at Capitol Hill Books and promptly bought it.

Mr. Bones is the narrator of this book. Mr. Bones is a dog whose owner, Willy G. Christmas, is dying. The two have been together for the past seven years, the most recent four spent on the road-vagabond style- searching for Willy's high school teacher. Willy is looking to bequeath his life's work to someone responsible, so that his legacy will carry on. Simultaneously, he has been giving Mr. Bones lessons in life: where to go once he is without a human, and where his human will go once he passes on-a place Willy calls Timbuktu.

Mr. Bones has visions that come to him in the form of dreams. These dreams have always come to pass in reality, culminating in Willy's death. On the lam, attempting to escape all policemen or anyone similar (surely sealing a fate leading to a dogcatcher!), our dog friend eventually finds a family. Completely suburban and nuclear, this family is at once completely foreign (they name him Sparky!) and comforting (they bathe him!) to Mr. Bones.

I knew at page 4 when Bones refers to "ontological terror" that this would be a book I could get behind. While the ending was a bit tragic, I didn't find myself feeling any more or less lonely (the expectation set by Fionn Regan years back). As an aside, upon finishing this book, I met a random guy who has three unfinished novels. When asked his favorite modern writers, he answered with Paul Auster, and told me that there is another title that will "make me want to slit my wrists." As this is my fourth Auster book to date, I can't wait to see what the next one does to me.

"But God paid no attention to him or else could not find him."

"It was the first time he had understood that memory was a real place that one could visit; and that to spend a few moments among the dead was not necessarily bad for you, that it could in fact be a source of great comfort and happiness."

A Multitude of Sins by Richard Ford

At the Barnes in Chicago, I worked with a guy named Jose. He used to sing random Paul McCartney/Wings songs to me, which led to him calling me "Jet" all the time. He was an English writing major at Brown (now a successful writer by profession) and was snottier than me. Richard Ford was his favorite contemporary author. I picked up (Pulitzer/PEN/Faulkner winner) Independence Day by his recommendation. Didn't love it, but liked Ford's writing enough to also pick up this book of short stories.

Whenever I can't "get into" a novel, I go back to short stories. This one is dog-eared to no end and has a random Post-It note in the front cover that reads "next Thursday night baseball game with Mark & Al" and includes two phone numbers with 303 area codes, which means I first read this after living in Colorado.

Random backstories to say that I am intrigued by Ford's characters and the way they unfold. He uses words like "fugue" to explain their emotional outpourings. This collection explores the larger theme of intimacy. This week I've been reading them while listening to The National and Tom Waits, which leads to a beautiful melancholy. Whether the relationships are breaking or rebuilding, it's just right.

Slam by Nick Hornby

I love Nick Hornby. This book is technically classified as young adult fiction, but it deals with some heavier subject matter. Sam is a 16-year-old skateboarder who adores Tony Hawk. He has a Tony Hawk poster that he talks to, and inserts Tony's end of the conversations with lines from Hawk's autobiography.

Sam's mother was a teenage mom, and can think of nothing worse than her son realizing a similar fate. Guess what? Sam's girlfriend Alicia gets pregnant. Eventually Tony Hawk (presumably) causes Sam to travel forward in time to glimpse his future as a father.

Throughout the book, Sam handles his situation in typical fashion-including running away and eventually committing to raising his child. Sam navigates his unconventional relationship with his mother (and somewhat distant father), as well as Alicia and her elitist parents while they all figure out how to move forward.

While this isn't my favorite Hornby book, it was a quick read with engaging characters.

The Poet by Michael Connelly

It should go without saying that I'm a bit of a snob. My friend Adam and I have a long standing joke that ends with, "Of course you don't," in regards to my taste. Fairly elitist when it comes to all things artsy, but books especially. However, when I fly on airplanes, I read trashy magazines. When I ride on trains I read newspapers. When I go home for a week to watch my grandmother die and attend her funeral, I tend to not have the attention span or mental capacity to concentrate or think much. So...Adam had literally just recommended that if I were to ever lower myself to read a Michael Connelly book, it should be the Poet. To use one of his euphemisms, the universe farted the right way and I ended up reading this. Quite quickly...and enjoying myself, to boot.

(Random snotty asides: The introduction is written by Stephen King... "Of course it is." Also, one night when I was reading this, my roommate Lindsay walked by the door and stopped to ask, "Are you really reading a Michael Connelly book?")

Jack McEvoy is a crime reporter for the Rocky Mountain News (go Denver!) who gets personally involved with his work when his twin brother, a Denver Police Officer, apparently commits suicide. Jack takes his bereavement leave as a sort of investigation period, and turns up a list of cops who've apparently killed themselves, linked directly to cases where the cop was working a case involving a child. In addition, the cops all leave notes consisting of only one line...all quoting Edgar Allan Poe.

McEvoy eventually goes to the FBI, and is granted special access to cover the story after cooperating with their ongoing investigation. While the entirety of the book is not predictable, there were a few things that I dreaded would happen that eventually did. As a whole, I enjoyed this book and Connelly's style...and will soon be reading The Narrows, a follow-up to this book.

IV (A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas) by Chuck Klosterman

I recently engaged in an online debate concerning the writings of Nick Hornby, Rob Sheffield and Chuck Klostermann. This led me to again pick up and reread IV. And, as before, I loved every minute. Klostermann has written for Esquire, Rolling Stone, The Believer and The New York Times Magazine. This is a collection of his writings from all of the above, dating back to the mid-90s.

Here he covers everything: Ratt, Johnny Carson, bowling, Radiohead and pants. His interview with Jeff Tweedy is one of the best I've read. I love that he spans from Morrissey to My Bloody Valentine, but also shamelessly profiles U2 and Britney Spears just as effortlessly. He contemplates monogamy and the afterlife, then addresses Barry Bonds and the Olympics.

He acknowledges his own writing with humility, saying "(there) are the two primary criticisms of my writing: that it's not especially funny, and that it's not particularly insightful." Though I disagree. Take for, instance, his questioning of the "alternative" music scene: "It remains unclear what this movement was the 'alternative' to...I suppose going to the mall, although I recall seeing a lot of these same rock kids at JCPenney."

And then there is his take on Ton Loc. "The last verse of 'Bust a Move' states, 'Your best friend Harry/ Has a brother Larry/ In five days from now he's gonna marry/ He's hopin' you can make it there if you can/ Cuz in the ceremony you'll be the best man.' Now, why would anybody possibly be the best man in a wedding where the groom is your best friend's brother? Why isn't your best friend the best man in this ceremony? And who asks someone to be their best man a scant five days before they get married?" Important questions. Answered with genius.

Two Lives: Gertrude and Alice by Janet Malcolm

What Malcolm has given us is equal parts history of Stein and Toklas' relationship and an astute criticism of Stein's work. How two Jewish lesbians survived living in Europe during the 30s and 40s is one the larger question posed. Essentially, they moved to the French countryside and rarely spoke of their religious heritage. Evaded the issue, even.

I've long been enchanted with Stein, her brother Leo and their unique brand of living at 27 Rue de Fleurus. The company they kept during the 20s is a veritable who's who, but Malcolm wholly ignores this, aside from a brief mention of Hemingway. The focus is truly on the escape from Nazi terror and the process by which Stein wrote.

Malcolm is seemingly not a huge fan of Gertrude, but she thoroughly investigates her library and fairly sheds light on one of my favorite writers. If you've read my review of the play Gertrude Stein, then you are aware of my adoration of stream-of-consciousness and her heavy repetition of words. I'll spare you a litany of quotes, but share some of how Malcolm classifies the writing.

"This is truly a new way of writing a novel, a novel where the author withholds the characters from the reader. ...The characters resemble shades."

"When she uses a new word it is like the entrance of a new character."

"She refuses to see things clearly that can only be seen darkly."

"Although it is possible to finish, it is impossible to sum up."

House Rules by Jodi Picoult

Oh, Jodi. Here you are again. Although read over the course of 24-hours, this one seemed even more familiar than her more recent novels. There were also one too many unnecessary perspectives included (for only a few chapters, at that). Picoult has done courtroom battles before....and, correct me if I'm wrong, always involving kids. Wah wah.

Short version: Emma Hunt is an overbearing mother (oh, wait! we've seen this lady before) to Theo and Jacob. Jacob has Asperger's Syndrome, and is obsessed with forensics, including watching and documenting shows and then recreating crime scenes for his family to figure out. The Hunt household is governed by a short list of "House Rules", as Jacob needs the structure and something to constantly reference in order to function in society. (I'm very tempted to give you two of the rules, but would give away the big mystery....suffice it to say, using Jacob's notation system...SOLVED: ME! 75 pages.) There is a murder. Everyone knows a little piece of the puzzle, and no one is telling what they know. Courtroom scenes ensue.

The two things that stick with me from this book: Emma is a reworked version of every other mother character Picoult has written (with no outstanding traits of her own) and Jacob constantly reminded me of Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory (even though it has been said that his character doesn't have any form of autism. I couldn't help it).

Spring Awakening by Frank Wedekind (translated by Jonathan Franzen)

Honesty Time: I had no idea what was starting when I stumbled upon this at the Tattered Cover a few years ago. I picked it up simply because I was trying to read a new play each month. And it was translated by Jonathan Franzen.

The first time I read it, I basically had no idea what was going on....then I saw an announcement that the tour was coming to Denver. A year and a half later, I saw the show. AND. WENT. APESHIT. How it works, I haven't a clue. Text from late 1800s Germany? Music and choreography from late (19)90s pop schamltzer Duncan Sheik and lyrics by Stephen Sater? That'll make sense. BUT SOMEHOW IT DOES. Conceived and written over one hundred years and continents apart, the musical adaptation of this script made it understandable for this one.

I've gone back to reread it a third time after seeing it on stage again this week. (Yup, I'm the girl who'll be listening to the soundtrack for the next 2 months, as well.)

What you need to know: this is a harshly realistic portrait of adolescence. Regardless of time or place, there seems to be a disconnect when one enters into a time of self-discovery. Melchior, Moritz, Wendla, Ilse and their classmates deal with everything from belief to abuse, rape to the inevitable topics of abortion and suicide. If you're into plays or showtunes, grab a copy of the soundtrack first. Then tackle the script.

Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen

Seeing this on the shelves of many teachers, I simply picked it up for my own library. Forgotten for many months, I saw that it was made into a movie....so I read it.

On top of being a young adult book, this one is told in alternating voices, which I LOVE. Julianna and Bryce are neighbors. Julianna has long been head-over-heels about Bryce and Bryce, well, Bryce thinks Julianna is capital-A-annoying. Their story starts just before second grade and moves through their early teens.

Their feelings for each other fluctuate and change with the seasons, as they ride the same bus to school and are nearly always in the same class. Julianna raises baby chicks as a result of a science project and proceeds to keep them in her backyard, starting a business selling the eggs to neighbors. Bryce thinks this is nuts, and is repelled by the amount of chicken poop that accumulates in such a small space. Bryce's grandfather moves in with the family, revealing family tensions that he never knew existed. As Bryce has also become the typical BMOC, he keeps these things to himself.

Essentially, the culmination of two events leads to understanding: a zoning issue with a sycamore tree and a school auction wherein Bryce is one of the items. Julianna and Bryce both end up gleaning that you can know someone a very long time without ever actually knowing who they are. A lesson that we can all be reminded of from time to time.

Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck

I was first introduced to Steinbeck in the sixth grade. Forced to read The Pearl as an 11-year old. What? Perhaps my brain wasn't ready to negotiate things as heady as oppression of whole people groups or the corruption that wealth so often brings...go figure. As such, I hated Steinbeck for the longest time. Even the beauty of Of Mice and Men didn't erase the disdain I felt (though I reread that one a few times). It wasn't until reading The Winter of Our Discontent in my mid-twenties that I warmed up to him.

While East of Eden has been in the stack of soon-to-reads for nearly 5 years (gack!), a random overheard conversation debating the merits of Steinbeck vs. Salinger led me to a conversation with a friend. Said friend prefers Salinger, but highly recommended Tortilla Flat. At 151 pages and on the shelf of Stone Alley, it wins.

Here's the deal: this book was extremely hard for me to handle. At one point, I had to force myself to read 20 pages a day. (Yup. 20 pages. And this is me.) Why I allowed this work to take exception to my 50-page-rule, I do not know. I do know that around page 80 I started to enjoy it.

More a collection of short stories about the same cast of characters, it was bearable when I looked to this as a brief series of encounters between friends. With little character development or plot momentum, it is truly akin to a night of jokes and yarns shared over a campfire.

Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

When I was in my early stages of becoming a reader, Jerry Spinelli was one of my favorites. I remember for the longest time Who Put That Hair in My Toothbrush? was at the top of my list of books to reread. A few years ago, I returned to Spinelli and his newer books (Stargirl and Eggs among them).

The first book is told from the viewpoint of Leo, a teenager living in Arizona. Stargirl is the newcomer to school, toting a ukulele and subscribing to no one's rules but her own. This follow-up book is told from Stargirl's perspective, after she has moved to Pennsylvania and is once again being homeschooled. Touted as the longest letter that she'll never send, Stargirl journals her new life in story form, as if talking to her faraway friend.

Being as unconventional as she ever was, Stargirl goes on field trips assigned by her mother. Only the place is picked out, and Stargirl must simply write poems of what she sees and experiences there. Another project finds Stargirl creating a sundial type calendar as a countdown to the Winter Solstice. The great build and near finale of the book is a viewing party wherein Stargirl invites all of the new friends she's made in her small town. With all the inventiveness of his main character, Spinelli introduces us to a precocious 6-year old and an agoraphobic elderly woman as Stargirls' best friends.

Addicted as I am to YA fiction, Spinelli is still at the top of my list. I can only hope that there are more tales of Stargirl ahead.


"I think I had discovered that the closest I could come to reliving the past was to tell my story to someone, the right someone."

The Long, Hot Summer by William Faulkner

I admit: reviewing this here is a cheat. A big, fat cheat. Another admission: I've never been able to stomach Faulkner. I've tried. Paul Newman I can stomach.

Loosely based on the short stories of WIlliam Faulkner (adapted for the screen by Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank, Jr.), the film's story takes some liberties and focuses on the Varners. Will Varner, played by Orson Welles, is the patriarch of the Varner family, owning much of small-town Frenchman's Bend, Mississippi. Newman portrays Ben Quick, who saunters into town looking to escape his own legacy as a barn-burner.

Varner has long been disappointed in both of his children. His only son, Jody, has failed to prove himself as the ruthless businessman, nor has he produced any children to carry on the family line. His daughter, Clara, is a schoolteacher, and still single. Her only romantic prospect is a genteel fellow that doesn't meet Varner's idea of suitable. Quick soon establishes himself as Varner's predecessor with his savvy (if not entirely ethical) business sense, as well as impressing Varner as a potential mate for daughter Clara. Obviously, neither of Varner's children are as impressed with Quick. His brash manner offends Clara's refined sensibilities and his favor arouses Jody's insecurities.

While I was impressed by the writing and the film as a whole story, I was rightfully irritated by Welles. Varner is a despicable character at best, but Welles manner is so abrasive, I often found myself unable to concentrate on the other actors. That said, this spiked my curiosity enough to further investigate the more complete work of Newman and Joanne Woodward. And there's a delightful turn by a young(er) Angela Lansbury. Perhaps I'll even try Faulkner again...