Joe
While I preferred “Here Comes Everybody”, this book was interesting as well. It's basically an examination of how people use online tools to change the world. The book tends to feel Polyannaish and I don't think Shirky went nearly deep enough in his examination on how tools like Facebook and Twitter can be used for evil. I also think that LOLCats is a rather trivial example of group collaboration(Shirky admits this), so why bother with it at all. I'd liked to have seen discussion of 4chan, anonymous and other places/personas on the Internet that don't always work as a force for good. Shirky is obviously pro-sharing, and pro amateur production without really discussing the filter failure this creates and how we might deal with it, whether it be by curation or algorithm. Clearly, Shirky set out to prove or at least suggest a positive use for online tools, but ignoring the less than savory uses doesn't make them go away, nor does it give users an adequate picture of how online tools really work.
This anthology isn't really a cohesive whole, and that's a good thing. The stories contained within are supposedly from a newish genre called slipstream. According to Bruce Sterling, slipstream's unifying force is cognitive dissonance. What this anthology demonstrated is that Slipstream isn't a genre at all, and that's there nothing new about it. It is, in fact, anti-genre, and a demonstration of how some our great young writers don't give a damn about genre boundaries. Much of the fiction here felt influenced by Borges and Kafka, with a hint of Calvino.
I was familiar with many of the stories here, but it was nice to see such a broad variety of stories in one Anthology. There are other names for the type of fiction contained in this book: interstitial arts seems to be the latest term. Don't be fooled: these stories are fiction without genre, and it works best when the authors aren't trying too hard. Highly recommended.
While I liked this book, I found it too long. It's not a long book, but it's not edited well. It is clearly a wonderful novella wrapped in an okay novel. I'd have liked to see this cut down more; down to its essential core. In the end though, the true test of a book is whether I would recommend it to others, and I certainly would recommend this book to everyone. It has broad appeal, despite its geeky references and Dominican Spanish. I gave it 4 stars, but that's only because I can't give it 3 1/2.
This is more a collection of essays than a cohesive whole. Pena Chodron says that the book came about as a collection of unrelated dharma talks she has given. Still, the central theme of all of them is facing pain rather than hiding from it. Using meditation, finding one's boddhicatta and converting pain to loving-kindness, one can face pain and convert it to compassion. Some chapters are stronger than others, and if you have time to read only one, make it chapter 10. I'd give this 3 and 1/2 stars if I could. It's not a strong enough book to warrant 4 stars.
This is a powerful book, told from the POV of Peter. Peter is an art dealer, and while he's not a big time player, he loves his job. Thinks get turned upside down when his wife's brother Mizzy(short for Mistake) shows up claiming to want to clean up his act and do “something in Art”. We really see the world through Peter's eyes, and I especially liked how his interior monologue was interjected into conversations so we know what he really wanted to say.
I really wish I could give this 4 and a half stars.
This was an extremely difficult collection of stories to work through. If you don't value the rewards of working through difficult prose, this book is not for you.
It's a powerful collection, filled with characters that I was often horrified to discover I related to. I was most struck by The Depressed Person, a powerful story that just won't leave my head. The last interview is also powerful, and it has made an indelible mark in my brain.
A melancholy book filled with sad, and sometimes deranged, characters. All of the main characters are perfectly drawn human beings with motivations that seem somewhat alien, but understandable. In lesser hands these characters would be unlikeable. Fortunately, John Brandon handles them with care, and even though we don't always like them, we still want to see where they're headed.
I generally only read literary fiction, but I make an exception for some fantasy writers. Tim Powers is one of those writers. Declare and Last Call are amongst my favorite novels. This novel, however, fell flat. The lack of a cohesive ending, paired with a less than coherent plot made this a dud for me. I'd have given it two and a half stars if I could, but only because of my love of anything involving the Fisher King (who I wish we'd seen and heard more from).
I suspected an allegorical tale, but instead got the actual tale of Jesus, as if he had been born in the 1980's. Sure, his name is Sam, but in reality, his could be the Messiah. So why did I like this book so much, given the obviousness of the plot: The writing is beautiful, and the story of Jesus is only the scaffolding that holds this tale up (granted, the scaffolding is showing, and that bothered me a bit). These are fully realized characters who just happen to be based on(or incarnations of) Biblical characters from the Gospels. Given the elephant is an eastern symbol, I suspect there's some play here on rebirth. I guess I'll have to wait for the sequel to find out.
Shuck is the story of Jaeven, a street hustler, gay porn star, diarist, meth addict, and unpublished writer. The book takes place in the late 1990's in Manhattan. Shuck consists of short segments, narrated by Jaeven. We follow him episode to episode, and it quickly becomes apparent that Jaeven is a man worth following. He's witty, sometimes happy and somewhat miserable. He is often filled with both bravado and fear.
Shuck feels like a true story, and that's because it contains grains of truth from the author's previous existence as a porn star and high-priced escort. Cox has said that Shuck is fiction, but much of it is based on actual events(including an incredible scene where Jaeven shows up for his first porn shoot.)
At the heart of Jaeven's life is an artist named David, who allows Jaeven to stay in his apartment for $300 a month, and the promise of showing off any bruises and scrapes he acquires. David needs those bruises to come up with brand new colors. His most recent artistic endeavor includes turtles and markers. The relationship between David and Jaeven (platonic throughout the book) is confusing. Jaeven isn't quite sure if David is jealous of Jaeven's sex with other men, even though David and Jaeven have never had sex, though they sleep in the same bed.
There are scenes of great humor in the book, along with scenes that will make you cringe. Some sections consist of lists of reasons why New York is not America. Others contain lists of things Jaeven finds while dumpster diving. Mostly, though, the book is a brief excursion into a life most of us will never know. It was an amazing read. Highly recommended.
The Child is about a gay fifteen-year old named Stew. Stew travels to Manhattan in order to meet up with an adult gay couple, David and Joe, that he met online. He has gone to their apartment a few times, and has engaged in sexual activity with them while there. Stew then propositions a police officer in a public restroom, and his world comes crashing down.
The officer convinces Stew to turn in David and Joe through deception. David and Joe are arrested, and because David has a prior conviction, he'll likely get a stiff sentence. The book also follows two attorneys, Hockey and Eva, and Eva's partner, Mary, a playwright who's had little success in NY's theater scene. Hockey is approached by a friend who wants him to represent David. Hockey brings in Eva to assist him.
I'm torn about how I feel about this book. The book is literary LGBT fiction wrapped up in a legal thriller wrapper. The problem is, I don't think it entirely works as either. For starters, most of the dialogue felt inauthentic. It reminded me, in fact, of a pastiche of A.M. Homes and her very weird, but very realistic dialogue. I'm not a fan of legal thrillers, but I've read a few, and this just didn't flow in the same way as legal thrillers I've read. In fact, the tempo felt off. (I can't really explain why. That's just the way I felt).
On the other hand, there was a lot about this book that I liked. The ambiguity of Stew's fate seemed natural, since the fate of any teenager (and gay teenagers in particular) is always ambiguous. I also appreciated that Schulman's treatment of David and Joe's actions was fairly objective. While the characters all seemed to have opinions about it, I didn't get a sense that the author's opinion was presented anywhere in the novel. Were David and Joe pedophiles? Legally, yes. Is growing up different for gay teens and straight teens? Absolutely. Does that make David and Joe's actions appropriate? No. Does it make their actions understandable? Possibly.
For me, though, the book fell apart at its most crucial scene. While I won't give the specifics away, it's fairly obvious that Stew is filled with rage, mostly directed towards his family. When that rage finally erupted, it erased any amount of empathy I had for Stew. I was extremely frustrated by a decision that Mary made late in the book, but I was even more frustrated by Eva's reaction to it. I don't expect tidy endings all wrapped up in a bow. I do expect that decisions characters make have a connection to their thoughts or behaviors earlier in the novel. I also expect characters to demonstrate some emotional depth. Schulman's tone was so objective, that her characters felt flat.
So how do I judge this book. I usually go by three criteria. Did I enjoy reading it, would I read it again, and would I recommend it to specific people. I did enjoy reading it, though I wouldn't read it again. There are too many great books out there to settle down with a mediocre one twice. As to recommending it: I couldn't think of a single friend that I thought would like this book.
This book gave me the impression that while Schulman is an adequate writer, she's neither a good writer nor a great one. But I'll read at least one more of her books to get a better impression of her talent.
Sebastian is a gay entomologist with Asperger Syndrome. Tom is a dyslexic bisexual and (nominally) Buddhist. ManBug is the nickname Tom accidentally gives Sebastian (he meant to say BugMan). ManBug the novel is the story of their relationship. The novel is written in the third person, but it is obviously filtered through the mind of Sebastian.
The story of their relationship is told in short chapters which read like ethereal wisps of stories. There is a story here, and despite the light feeling of the prose, there is depth and weight. There are also moments of incredible humor. Familiarity with Buddhism, while not necessary for the enjoyment of this novel, will certainly add new depth to some of the story.
The Kardapa Lampa was both a reincarnating lineage, and a theory Tom ascribed to. The current title holder had been empowered through a series of events whose legitimacy provoked controversy and much bitter debate. People loved him or they hated him. The Kardapa Lampa was either tearing Buddhism apart, or he was a living embodiment of the teachings.
There was no middle way here.
The word “kiss” as it came off Tom's lips was a kind of blue that melted from the edges and faded, but lingered.
The word “Tom” also became bluer after this. Thoughts of Tom were oddly tinged blue somehow, in a new development.
The Metamorphosis
If you've read The Safety of Objects, this is a must read. If you haven't, this is still a highly recommended book. It's equally strange and familiar characters are beautifully drawn, and the situations, no matter how odd, feel as intense as a disaster and a family Thanksgiving dinner all rolled into one.
I originally purchased this to decide whether or not I was going to subscribe to The Believer. I'm a fan of long form criticism, and there isn't enough of it to go around. The Believer still holds onto the idea that long form criticism is important. I'm glad that someone does.
What I found in these pages were essays that ranged from good to great. There wasn't a bad essay here, though some are more memorable than others. “Like Cormac McCarthy, but Funny” by Ed Park has convinced me to give Charles Portis a try. “The Bad Mormon” by Ben Ehrenreich was also fascinating. I'm not sure if I'm a fan of Rick Moody or not, but is essay “How to Be a Christian Artist” was decently written and interesting. Tom Bissel's discussion of books aimed at writers, “Sir, Permission to Go AWOL from the Interesting, Sir” has convinced me to stop reading those damn things(mostly). “Waiting for a Bad Thing” by Sam Lipsyte gave me the instant desire to find out more about Michel Houellebecq. The essay that stayed with me the most was “Transmissions from Camp Trans” by Michelle Tea.
All in all, it's a great collection. It's convinced me that I have to be a subscriber to The Believer. My only problem now is what do I read next? It's pretty hard to find quality essay work like this.
If anyone has any suggestions for collections of long form criticism, I'm all ears!
I can't imagine a better companion to Strunk and White. This is a book for people who love sentences. Fish demonstrates how sentence construction follows particular forms, and that it's these forms, rather than an exhaustive knowledge of Grammar, that can be learned and replicated. Highly recommended if you have any interest in the English language. This is obviously a book for writers, but I think it would be valuable to avid readers and students of any discipline.
This is a fun collection of stories. The various versions of God are hilarious, and the final story about the Golems convinced me that they're probably too much of a bother. While nothing is sacred in these stories, everything is funny. Highly recommended to people with a sense of humor. Not recommended to those easily offended by “blasphemy”.
The first half of So Much For That was incredibly difficult to get through. It felt like there were too many lectures, and too little characterization. The second half moved at a much better clip, but unfortunately this book felt too much like “American Health Insurance for Dummies.” Jackson, for the first half of the book, seemed to exist solely as a mouthpiece for the author. Shep and Glynis, who were the heart of the story, seemed murky and distant, much like a picture from a pinhole camera. The prose is wonderful in much of the book, but it is too flawed to recommend.
This book would have earned five stars, but the end felt entirely disconnected from the rest of the book. It was inauthentic, and felt like it was designed to appeal to a movie going audience.
The rest of the book is brilliant, though I found the entire mountain top renewal section to be superfluous. It felt like it was crammed into the book so Franzen could expound upon his environmental issues; in particular, his devotion to songbird ecology. Personally, I'm a lover of birds, and especially songbirds, but even I found no value in the constant discussion of feral and outdoor cats, the populations decimated by our technology, and the destruction of habitats. This is a book about family, and when he sticks to that, Franzen delivers a virtuoso performance.
Slight Spoiler Below This Point.
In the end, this book is weaker than The Corrections, which felt like a perfect novel about family. One of the themes that Franzen seems to be exploring on a consistent basis is the idea of the prodigal son, and I found the prodigal son of The Corrections (Chip) much more enthralling than Freedom's Joey. Joey and Walter's reconciliation felt forced (though, in all honesty, reconciliation can often feel that way.) Reconciliation, agreeability, and of course, freedom(more precisely, the excess of freedom), are the resounding themes of this book. The book mostly succeeds in exploring all of them in a fascinating and authentic way.
But man, I hate the ending.
A very powerful story about the relationship between a boy and his mother. The mother has been held prisoner by Old Nick, a man who kidnapped her 7 years prior. Her son Jack, a child conceived in rape, lives the first five years of his life in a single room with his mother in a shed in Old Nick's backyard. Then they escape, and Jack has to learn about the world outside Room, the place he has spent his entire life. The book is written from Jack's POV in his very idiosyncratic language. It's a heart touching and powerful book.
While it's an interesting experiment - a book written like a möbius strip - it ultimately fails because of its poorly written female characters, who seem to lack compassion and understandable motivations, and its confusing and unsatisfying ending. I wanted to love this book, and I love some of it (the Sheperd part of the book in the center is especially powerful), but I can't recommend it to anyone except fans of experimental literary fiction.