Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself by David Lipsky

I took this book with me everywhere. It started in Denver, late night and cross legged on my front porch. Together we found our way to a park bench, where the love affair rose to the next level. Then we travelled through Nebraska and Iowa, ending up in Galesburg, Illinois. It was here that I truly began to take my time, knowing that as soon as it ended, I would want to travel back to the beginning. As lame as it may sound to any other, I've taken this book with me everywhere since.

David Foster Wallace. How you've captured me. This book is simply a transcript of an elongated interview that DFW did with David Lipsky for a Rolling Stone article in 1996. After Wallace's death in 2008, Lipsky released this book. I'm forever grateful. (How obnoxious do I sound?)

It's one thing to have a conversation with a friend or fellow reader about popular culture, about the profound effects that "art" has on us all, but another to be allowed the pleasure of the voyeuristic experience of eavesdropping on 2 separate great minds having those same discussions. Multiple times throughout this book, I found myself feeling validated. When a genius like Wallace expresses a view that you've long held, he does it better. He encapsulates it with a sagacious conclusiveness.

Much like a fawning schoolgirl, I drank this in all the more so as I remember the stuff they're talking about. These interviews took place when I was a 20 year-old flailing college student, so whether pontificating on the merits of Updike or regaling Alanis Morissette for her accessibility, I'm smitten. Then and now.

Traveler by Ron McLarty

Whenever I truly want to enjoy a book, I take a few hours at Stella's. For roughly the last 7 years, I have found refuge in a specific corner there. This corner allows for the perfect blend of white noise from other patrons and the solitude that a book provides. There is a glorious high-backed wicker chair with a worn out velvety golden colored corduroy covered cushion. (Not unlike the glorious orange corduroy pants I'm wearing tonight.) They took the chair away, but I still frequent the haus.

All of that to say, this was a book that I took to Stella's. The couches were all taken, so I read in a hard-backed chair at a table, then sat outside on the patio by the fire. Any which way, this book merited some solid time. Not that it was a hard read, but that I found myself so engaged that I wanted to retreat with it. McLarty's first book, The Memory of Running, was the same way. He's not a phenomenal writer, just a true one. His words and characters stick with you, strike you as authentic and allow just enough of themselves to make you feel a part of them.

This book takes place partially in New York City, where the main character lives, and in Rhode Island, where Jono Riley grew up. (It should be noted that any book set in the Northeast has an unfair advantage, as I'm smitten by the idea of the area.) The book opens with Jono receiving a letter that one of his childhood friends has passed away. Having not returned to his hometown in some years, the story unfolds through alternating chapters of present and past.

With the backdrop of 1950s New England, there are stereotypes and prejudices addressed as we travel through a coincidentally familiar and foreign America. Names like Cubby, Big Tony, Mary Agnes and Bobby quickly quickly demonstrate that at this time, whether you were Italian or Irish, Catholic or not, it made a difference in Riverside Terrace.

McLarty uses elements of mystery to weave a story that reminds us that we're all still tied to our upbringing, regardless of how far down we try to repress those experiences or how far away we travel.

Labor Day by Joyce Maynard

I had no idea who Joyce Maynard was until the winter of 1999, when I read At Home in the World, her memoir. That book garnered much attention in a negative way-Maynard revealed a very personal story (her own experience, mind you) involving JD Salinger. The two shared a relationship, which profoundly affected her (as a writer and a woman), when she was 18. Salinger, notoriously reclusive, instigated the relationship, and it was far from idyllic. Once Maynard revealed portions of his life, she was very publicly castrated from the literary world's good graces. In doing so, I fell in love with her.

This is only the second piece of Maynard's fiction that I've read, and I will definitely be looking for more.

Henry is a 13 year old boy, living in the tension of a split family. His relationship with his mother is close, bordering on inappropriate. He senses this, but has no vocabulary for describing his mother's emotional frailty. Here we find him coming to terms with this, as well as his distanced relationship with his father and new step-family.

Over Labor Day weekend-six short days -we see Henry discover pieces of what he's been missing. A stranger approaches during a rare shopping trip and asks for Henry's help. This stranger is Frank. Frank enters Henry's home and shows him a new idea of family, of being there for one another, of normalcy. In the most abnormal way.

I loved every awkward moment that Henry experiences through learning what every child should-love is love, regardless of how it appears to the outsider.

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

Miranda is an adolescent girl living and attending public school in New York City. Her best friend, Sal, lives in her building, and it seems as if neither of them has travelled far from what they know. There's the crazy homeless man that sleeps under the mailbox on the corner, the sandwich shop that they "work" in during their lunch break, and the gang of ruffians that terrorize passersby in front of the garage...all within a 3 block radius of their apartments. Without seeming to try too hard, Stead creates a world that I could easily visualize as a film.

Weird things start happening. Miranda receives eery handwritten notes that reference events that haven't occurred...yet. When they start to realize, Miranda attempts to figure out the mystery. With catchy chapter titles that always begin with, "Things That...," one of the boys from the garage presents himself more frequently into Miranda's everyday life. Our girl's favorite book, A Wrinkle in Time, plays part and parcel to some clues as to what's going on with the notes. Perhaps it's my disdain for physics, or the reminiscence of past conversations with Gabe, Steve, and Todd that never produced exceptional fruit or clarity about the nature of time and its' continuum, but I didn't give much thought to the larger message.

Either way, I was entertained for an afternoon whilst floating in the pool in GBG.

The Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight

Lest I be my snarky self when it comes to "Christian" writings, I'm pasting the Publishers' Weekly review from Amazon here:

"Infused with common sense and seasoned with candor, the latest work from McKnight (The Jesus Creed), religious studies professor at North Park College, takes a stand in controversial territory by bravely asking the question: how is it that even Christians who claim to be led by an authoritative Bible read it so differently? In response, the author asserts that believers need to take a fresh look at how they adopt and adapt Scripture before they can read the Bible in a way that renews a living relationship with the God behind the sacred text. Using the analogy of a water slide, McKnight argues that the Gospel is the slide, the Bible and church tradition the walls that both protect and liberate the believer as he or she discerns how to apply Scripture as a living document. In the last section, McKnight tackles the controversial issue of women's role in church ministry in a way that is both scholarly and confessional, documenting his own journey alongside that of the apostle Paul and other biblical characters. Enriched by folksy anecdotes, this volume could be very useful for evangelical readers and any others wanting a safe place to ask the same bold questions."

Given my love of discussion, this was an experiment in pushing myself to read things that I've not as of late. A group of 5 embarked upon a book club of sorts for this one, and we read it over the course of 4 months. The group included 2 of my closest friends, one newer acquaintance, and one of my roommates at the time. It should be mentioned that 4 of us had at one time or another been on staff or volunteered for the same youth program at a church that we were all still at least loosely affiliated. Always for adding another layer to relationships and thinking, I was excited to enter into this endeavor.

This situation allowed for many questions to be entertained, and many long held assumptions to be challenged. There were many moments of discord, and Scot-with-one-t held his own while withholding his blunt opinions to the point of never really knowing what he was urging you to think. While that sounds gracious enough, it was hard to walk away with anything more than a swirl of unanswered questions. However, it did open up the ground for analyzing things with a fresh perspective.

Short Stories...by Raymond Carver, Dorothy Parker, David Foster Wallace, John Updike

There are a few short story collections sprinkling my book collection, but I very rarely commit myself to reading them. They are generally filler, picked up between books and before bedtime when I'm in need of a distraction or my senses need to be dulled towards sleep.

Raymond Carver, however, is an exception. Carver has the ability to captivate me. His ability to turn everyday life into a grandiose experience calls to grab a cup of hot tea and settle in. Which is what I did, multiple nights in a row.

That led to turning to other old favorites...perhaps stories shall be turning up on my list more frequently.

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

What to say about Olive? Here we have a character who isn't very likable, nor sympathetic, but I found myself identifying with her, liking her, and having a great deal of empathy for her. Her life, her situations, her surroundings.

Strout tells the tale of Olive Kitteridge using vignettes, each chapter sketches a story that, while building part of a larger whole, can stand alone. While I doubted it's effectiveness (and was quite irritated) when I realized that Chapter Two wasn't necessarily connected to the first, I quickly became engaged with each portion of the book. To the point of being riveted. I journaled about this book. I read it aloud to both of my roommates (two separate passages at two separate times), and we had heartfelt and meaningful discussions as a result.

Olive and the people who populate the town of Crosby, Maine live very mundane and commonplace small-town lives. It's just that that makes their experience, and this book, remarkable.

Bright Shiny Morning by James Frey

I unabashedly love James Frey. Regardless of the is-memoir-is-it-fiction argument (which I'm not addressing here), this guy can write. I received Million Little Pieces as a galley when I lived in Chicago, and had already read (and cried over) My Friend Leonard when the "scandal" about Frey's veracity broke in late 2005. My glowing opinion of his aptitude as a writer was mostly fully formed when the bru-ha-ha exploded. It has not changed (and has only been strengthened) with the reading of his most recent offering, Bright Shiny Morning.

Started while housesitting over Spring Break, then put away....I knew that at 501 pages, I didn't have the capacity at the time to fully absorb and appreciate it.

The tongue-in-cheek prefaces, "Nothing in this book should be considered accurate or reliable."Fairly warned, I jumped in to discover that Frey introduces some 20-odd characters within the first 35 pages. Alternating storylines of these people with short paragraphs on the history of the city of Los Angeles, I delighted in the characteristic non-traditional prose. I've never desired to live in LA, but this book made me cognizant of the culture and revisit some preconceived ideas about the diversity of the place. Even the seemingly dry landscape became palatable at the hands of this talented scribe.

Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

I have never liked Sherman Alexie's writing. Until I read this book, that is. This one was for my book club, won the National Book Award, and is perhaps my favorite read of the entire summer (uummm, maybe i said that already about another YA book? tough call, folks.).

Arnold Spirit is a middle school aged boy. He lives on the res, loves his grandma & sister, is confined by the poverty that surrounds him, questions his parents' choices, and plays most sports poorly. According to his first person narration, Arnold also has a stutter, bottle-cap glasses, a limp, a misshapen head, and his stature might qualify him as a midget. There is a self-portrait included. You see, Arnold draws. Ridiculously accurate, hysterical and poignant sketches. These are his lifeline, and at points, also the readers'.

This is a book about grace, escape, and the inevitable return home. I found myself reading passages aloud to anyone who happened to be nearby. There were so many things that resonated with me, I know that I'll return to more fully examine this heartbreakingly honest tale.

(If you're interested in the artist who rendered Arnold's drawings, check out Ellen Forney.)

Handle with Care by Jodi Picoult

It would be realistic to say that I'm loathe to "review" a Jodi Picoult book. I feel like a broken record. Since I was first introduced to her in 1998, she's been what I've considered my only true guilty pleasure when it comes to reading. Handle With Care marks the 16th Picoult book I've read, so I knew what to expect when I picked it up.

It would be harsh to say that she's formulaic, but she is....alternating voices of narration, New England setting, moral dilemma, "shocking" turn of events, and an emotional reaction to the conduct and/or integrity of at least one character....while the jig may be up on Picoult's writing style and plot, it is still somewhat addictive. She is virtually the only author that I will, guaranteed, always pay full price for when a new book hits the shelves. She has her craft and her niche down, and I'm a sucker for 2 days of care-free "pleasure" reading.

All of that said, this was typical of her work, but this time I put my finger on something that I struggle with, due to the market to which she panders. While the main theme of the book might be explored to a deeper degree, there are multiple ideas and conflicts that are merely presented, then dropped. There is a passage of no more than 20 lines of dialogue that I read aloud to 4 separate people, simply posing the question, "What do you think about that?," and I received 4 totally different answers. The topics my friends chose to address ranged from abortion to marriage; from divorce to predestination. All of those things were brought up in the conversation the characters were having, but not one was ever fully inspected.

While I admire her ability to write about such weighty issues, I'm bothered by the fact that I don't ever know where she stands on any of them. However, I still plan on reading House Rules.