Scott Semegran

This is the story of Duane, Jacy, and Sonny—teenagers longing for love and a more thrilling life—as well as some of the adults in their small town of Thalia, Texas. The teenagers dream of bigger things than the town seems to offer and the adults are drawn to the fresh teenagers like moths to a flame. The adults' misery with life in Thalia is palpable.

This story is humorous and nostalgic, yet melancholy and dejected. The sadness most of the characters feel about their lives is front and center, and even when the teenagers are thrill-seeking, their bad decisions come back to haunt them in the form of unexpected outcomes. The adults are no better. Even in the last chapter when Ruth rages at Sonny's ineptitude and inadvertent coldness toward her, she still longs for his youthful touch while she exclaims, “I'm really not smart.”

I'm certain around the time of its original publication, the spotlight on the internal lives of these teenagers' sex lives must have been illuminating. But reading it now, the revelations are somewhat cliché and groan-inducing, rather than thrilling.

But more importantly, McMurtry's writing is economical yet sturdy, even poetic at times. And he has a strong ability to develop characters in a natural way. There is one chapter that affected me deeply, the one where Sam the Lion goes to the lake with Duane and Sonny and tells them about a time when he was their age and took a girl to the same spot on the lake. It is a moment of reflection for Sam the Lion that affects him and the reader deeply, revealing his longing for a love and a place in time that is distant yet ever-present in his heart. The teenage boys have a difficult time imagining their elder statesman as a teenager like them, doing the same lusty pining they themselves are guilty of doing. It's an excellent scene with a lot to contemplate and unpack, and its written beautifully.

This novel is a quirky dramedy about twin children—with the unusual ability to catch on fire—and their relationship with a down-on-her-luck woman hired as a nanny to take care of them, away from the spotlight of their politically ambitious father and stepmother. The nanny and stepmother, Lillian and Madison respectively, were friends at a prestigious private high school before Madison's father paid Lillian's mother to have Lillian take the fall for Madison's drug bust. Fifteen years later, Madison calls Lillian out of the blue with a lucrative job offer to be the “governess” of her unusual step-children, Bessy and Roland, and keep them secluded as their father is up for position of Secretary of State. Lillian has no experience watching kids (including ones with unusual, supernatural powers), but she takes the job anyway as she has nothing better going on. I listened to the audiobook edition narrated by Marin Ireland.

I looked forward to listening to this novel as it is categorized as Humorous Literary Fiction, one of my favorite book categories. Being a comic book fan as well, the whacky premise was personally enticing. Were these kids mutants like in the X-Men comic books? The publisher describes the novel as “moving and uproarious” and, although at times humorous, this novel leans more toward moving than laugh out loud funny. Once Lillian gets acquainted with the twins and instills a sense of trust in them, their unusual ability to burst aflame is disregarded for a very long stretch in the middle of the novel, mostly focusing on the growing relationship between the abandoned children and the lowly Lillian, the three finding they are kindred spirits of the overlooked kind. Lillian is a keen observer and her first-person narration is endearing, sometimes funny, insightful, and, also at times, self-deprecating. And although I enjoyed the long stretch of relationship building between her and the twins, it seemed there was a missed opportunity for many more humorous situations involving the kids' fire ability; there just wasn't enough of that. But, this long middle stretch was a very, very successful setup for a laugh-out-loud plot twist that I didn't see coming at all and made me burst out with laughter and surprise. It was a genuinely hilarious plot twist, for sure, as well as a very satisfying one.

I'd like to say that the narrator, Marin Ireland, did a fantastic job of narrating most of the characters and her lilting, Southern accent for some of them was exceptional and imaginative. You may know Marin Ireland from TV shows like The Umbrella Academy or Sneaky Pete, but she is an accomplished narrator in her own right.

As a parent, I related to the relationship Lillian built with the twins and, even though they are initially portrayed as freaks, the three of them are just like the rest of us: unique and hungry for love. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel and I highly recommend it. I would give this novel 5 stars.

Update 5/8/2024:
I read the paperback this time and I enjoyed it more than listening to the audiobook. 5 stars!

I read this novel as a young man and again later in my 30s. I thought I'd give it another read to see if it's as strange as I'd remembered. What a weird and quirky novel. Part war story, part science fiction, and part bizarro, observational comedy, I couldn't explain it concisely if I tried. The disparate plot (what little there is) tells the strange life of Billy Pilgrim, a WWII veteran who lived through the bombing of Dresden, one of the most horrific events of WWII. But he soon becomes “unstuck in time” and we careen back and forth throughout his life: his time as an optometrist, his time in WWII, the time he was abducted by aliens called Tralfamadorians, who see the entirety of time all at once. Strange story. Is Billy's unstuck state an analogy for insanity? Could be. Vonnegut (he is the narrator of the novel and appears in the Dresden part of the story) tells this strange story with an empathetic lilt as he retells many of the disturbing events that Billy and the other characters endure, punctuating any mention of death with his well-known phrase, “So it goes.”

Since the Tralfamadorians see time as a whole and not in a linear fashion, I imagine that's how Vonnegut approached this story. Told in sections that are out of order (literally and figuratively), the one thing that is a constant is Vonnegut's narrative voice. How to describe it? Silly, empathetic, philosophical, observant, whimsical, searing, unapologetic. A hilariously observant passage finds Billy Pilgrim in a train car filled with war prisoners during WWII. He's sitting next to a hobo who is not a prisoner; he's just on the train for the ride. The train car is filthy, despondent, cold, and the prisoners are hungry, tired, dejected. The hobo tells Billy, “This ain't bad. This ain't nothing at all.” It's all in your perspective, Vonnegut seems to offer the reader. So it goes.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel and I highly recommend it. I would give this novel 5 stars.

Do you need a cowboy poet in your life? I bet that is a question some of you have never considered. I would argue that after you read All Things Left Wild by James Wade that the answer would be yes indeed.

The publisher of this beautiful novel describes it as such, “After an attempted horse theft goes tragically wrong, sixteen-year-old Caleb Bentley is on the run with his mean-spirited older brother across the American Southwest at the turn of the twentieth century. Caleb's moral compass and inner courage will be tested as they travel the harsh terrain and encounter those who have carved out a life there, for good or ill. Wealthy and bookish Randall Dawson, out of place in this rugged and violent country, is begrudgingly chasing after the Bentley brothers. With little sense of how to survive, much less how to take his revenge, Randall meets Charlotte, a woman experienced in the deadly ways of life in the West. Together they navigate the murky values of vigilante justice.”

This novel deftly unfurls the parallel narratives with Wade's dueling narrators, Caleb's first-person, outlaw rumination to contrast the third-person, poetic observations of heartbroken Randall. Wade transports his modern perspective to this Wild Western, dissecting what makes a good man as well as the illness—something we modern folks describe as toxic masculinity—that gets these bruised male egos in the end. Charlotte—the very capable, intelligent, and unsung Black heroine of the novel—is the perfect voice for Wade's conclusions on what makes a good man. When Randall asks his wise and beautiful cohort what makes a man worthy, she answers without blinking an eye, “Kindness. Sure, it don't hurt if he's handsome and has a job. But most of all, he ought to be kind.” This right here is part of the thesis of this beautiful novel: great men lead with kindness. That's something altogether different than the typical male trope of rugged individualism wrapped up in maleficence.

But don't get me wrong. This novel has adventure with wild characters and a philosophizing antagonist named Grimes, an unrelenting villain that terrorizes the Southwest. It wouldn't be a Western without that. But Wade excels in literary flourishes, painting the landscape with poetic strokes like this early passage. “Things were different at night, cold and still and dark, and when the clouds burned off, the stars were still there as they'd been since before we began shining lights back at them. They scalded the night sky in their dying, and when they fell we whispered wishes to ourselves for things only the stars might understand.” Wow! And that coming from the murderous Caleb, a man most characters in the novel perceive as rough and tumble, but the reader learns is a man worthy of redemption.

All Things Left Wild is a literary Western with beauty and wit, deeper and more substantial than its dusty genre would leave you to believe. Do you need a cowboy poet in your life? With All Things Left Wild, the answer is undoubtedly YES.

I loved this novel and I highly recommend it. I would give this novel 5 stars.

Norwood by Charles Portis is a humorous novel that is a picaresque road trip story. The book description from the publisher describes it best: “Out of the American Neon Desert of Roller Dromes, chili parlors, The Grand Ole Opry, and girls who want “to live in a trailer and play records all night” comes ex-marine and troubadour Norwood Pratt. Sent on a mission to New York by Grady Fring, the Kredit King, Norwood has visions of “speeding across the country in a late model car, seeing all the sights.” Instead, he gets involved in a wild journey that takes him in and out of stolen cars, freight trains, and buses. By the time he returns home to Ralph, Texas, Norwood has met his true love, Rita Lee, on a Trailways bus; befriended Edmund B. Ratner, the second shortest midget in show business and “the world's smallest perfect fat man”; and helped Joann, “the chicken with a college education,” realize her true potential in life.”

Norwood is Portis's first novel and another book lovingly brought back to life by The Overlook Press along with classics True Grit and Dog of the South (another picaresque novel and a stronger one at that). Norwood Pratt is sent home to check on his sister Vernell after their father died, as it's claimed she's unable to look after herself. He helps her get a job and she quickly meets an older suitor who she marries. Finding himself now sharing their father's house with his sister and her grumpy husband, Norwood happily accepts a “job” from Grady Fring, the Kredit King, where he's tasked with driving a pair of cars to New York along with a beautiful yet pissed off performer, Miss Phillips. And the adventure begins. Norwood confesses his dream of becoming a country singer, Miss Phillips steals one of the cars and drives away to Chicago, and Norwood trips from one strange situation to another.

Portis excels at dry yet hilarious conversations and Norwood has plenty with a plethora of rascals on the trip, where he confesses his dream of singing on a radio show and doesn't hesitate to tell people when he doesn't like something. Norwood has a fantastic ability to stumble into one weird situation after another, yet is able dance through them without falling down. He even meets his future bride Rita Lee on a Greyhound bus—of all places—on the way back home to Ralph, Texas, and many of his acquaintances razz him about this, but he's lovestruck and determined to marry her, nonetheless.

Unfortunately, Norwood suffers from also being a relic of its time, and the use of the slurs “nigger” and “midget” becomes wearing later in the novel, and the humor of its time related to race and dwarfism just isn't considered funny nowadays. This is where later novel Dog of the South leapfrogs over Norwood as the better picaresque novel as it jettisons this type of humor for the most part, and focuses more on the foibles of its characters rather than their physical appearances.

Despite this, there is plenty to enjoy in this novel. I recommend it. I would give this book four stars.

Classic Marvel! Steve Ditko artwork is amazing. The teenager-as-superhero angle is still fun to dive into all these years later. Stan Lee and Steve Ditko knew they had something special with Spider-man and their enthusiasm shines through.

Immensely readable and informative, BEFORE AND AFTER THE BOOK DEAL is like having many of your best professional writer friends dispensing their best advice—about the good and the bad of publishing—all in one book. Maum is an excellent host (and funny I might add) and provides a comprehensive list of things most writers need to know before, during, and after their first book deal. Not everything will apply to every writer. For instance, the sections about getting an MFA were not as important to me (I'm writing my tenth book and will most likely never, ever get an MFA because I don't care). And the tone and ideal reader seems to be an author whose first book is being published by a traditional publisher (hence the DEAL part of the title), which is fine unless the reader is an author who has self-published. I published eight of my books myself, but sold my ninth to a university press (my FIRST book deal!!!). I read this book as if I've never published a book before which was interesting and insightful. But even though I've published before, I haven't experienced getting a book deal and traversing the channels of traditional publishing. I've discovered that the entire process is SLOOOOOW and there have been things I've encountered that this book has very useful advice for, so I can't recommend it enough for writers experiencing their first book deal, whether they've published other books or not.

At the end of this book is a section of advice from several writers, editors, agents, etc. Here's a nugget from Author Lindsay Hunter, “Most importantly: expect nothing. No life change, no windfall, no salivating Hollywood queue. It's just you and your astonishing achievement. It's just you and your work, always. For better or for worse. Once that thing is out in the world, you cannot control how it's received. You can only return to your passion for it, which, when you inevitably ask yourself why, is all the reason you'll need.”

I can't agree more.

Highly recommended and I'd give this book five stars!

Hide Away is the latest novel from Jason Pinter, the bestselling author of the Henry Parker series, about single mother Rachel Marin, who is new in town and raising two kids–spunky daughter Megan and dour teenager Eric. But out of plain view, she's a fierce, brilliant vigilante with the ability to kick a hulking mugger's ass and a sharp eye for clues that would help solve criminal cases. While watching TV news coverage of the suicide of the town's former mayor and Rachel's friend, her keen eye for detail tells her this was no suicide; it was murder. She anonymously calls the town PD and dishes the clues she has discovered. The detectives learn Rachel is the caller and she becomes swept up in the investigation. All the while, her horrifying past (which brought her to town in the first place and motivated her to learn to kick ass and take names) threatens to come back and reveal Rachel's true identity.

With this setup, the story blasts off and doesn't let up. Pinter has an excellent grasp of plotting and keeps the story on track, occasionally diverting readers with brief bits of backstory for Rachel and Detective Serrano, although I wished there was a little more of that. The writing is crisp and efficient, not getting in the way of the narrative or slowing down plot points. There are several surprise elements revealed throughout the novel and, just when you think you have the rest of the story figured out, Pinter pulls the rug out from under you. It makes for a fun and thrilling read.

I only have a couple of quibbles with the novel's premise. Rachel's desire to protect her children above all else and her dedication for justice of Mayor Wright's murder are contradictory ideas that are not answered with a satisfactory rationale. If Rachel moved to this town, changed her identity, and wanted to protect her children, then sticking her neck out to assist the PD detectives and leaving her children repeatedly at night were not the best way to protect her family. Detective Serrano eventually wrestles with this very dilemma in the story, and as I waited for a very convincing reason from Rachel of why she was doing it, she doesn't really give one. “Wright was kind to me,” she explains. That's the reason? Hmmm.

Second, if Rachel is going to leave her children at night with babysitters that want her home on time, then why doesn't she just secure her home with remotely controlled locks (Schlage locks using the alarm.com app)? Who needs a babysitter anyway? She can monitor her kids remotely with an app on her phone connected to her home surveillance cameras. I feel someone of her intellectual caliber should have done a better job securing her home and children without relying on unsympathetic babysitters.

But these are only minor quibbles. Rachel as a character has a ton of potential for a series of thrillers and some more elaboration of her backstory (along with Serrano's backstory) would be a welcome addition to subsequent books. The interaction between Rachel and the two detectives, Serrano and Tally, is fun and realistic, and an ass-kicking heroine who is also a single mom is an intriguing idea. The two quibbles I mentioned could be shored up nicely in subsequent books. I look forward to seeing where Pinter goes next with Rachel Marin. I give this novel 4 ½ stars out of 5. Highly recommended!

I was provided an ARC from the publisher for this book review.

I have a love / hate relationship with this book. Irving can certainly turn a phrase and his dialog between friends Owen Meany and John Wheelwright is spot-on for teenage boys. Their discussions, at times, are poignant and very funny. But in this book, Irving repeated himself constantly at an infuriating rate, and once I reached the end of the book, realized he was attempting to bash his readers over the head with his ham-fisted attempt at revealing divine symbolism. This 600-plus page novel could have easily been edited down to 300 pages and been just as enjoyable except quicker to read.

Fantastic! Review to come...

For the most part, the writing is mostly on par with Pekar's other works but (and I say this with no disrespect to the artist Dean Haspiel because his artwork is really fantastic) I prefer reading Pekar's work with Robert Crumb illustrating it via American Splendor. Crumb really had a grasp of Pekar's quirks and neuroses and his stylized artwork was a perfect compliment to Pekar's personality. Unfortunately for me, Haspiel's artwork just doesn't fit very well. Check out any of the American Splendor compilations and you will see what I mean.[bc:American Splendor 43559 American Splendor Harvey Pekar http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1170129110s/43559.jpg 770263]

The artwork is fantastic and there were moments of intrigue but, in the end, I was rather perplexed by this book. I really enjoyed Ghost World and Ice Haven but David Boring lacks the humor of those books.

This novel won the 2020 Pulitzer Prize for fiction as well as the Kirkus Prize for fiction and the National Book Award for fiction. I approach these type of novels with long lists of accolades like this with trepidation, mostly because I've found I haven't really enjoyed most of them. The same could be said for recent Oscar winning Best Picture movies (I'm looking at you, Green Book) or Grammy winning best albums of the year (I'm glaring at you, Morning Phase by Beck). With the exception of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, I haven't enjoyed many of the recent Pulitzer Prize winners for fiction. They have left me wanting. Until now. The Nickel Boys is fantastic and well-deserves the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. With wide, impressionistic swathes, it paints a harrowing picture of a racist boys institution in Florida during the early to mid-twentieth century, and it does a masterful job in an efficient 200 pages.

Judges of the Pulitzer Prize called the novel “a spare and devastating exploration of abuse at a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida that is ultimately a powerful tale of human perseverance, dignity and redemption.” It tells the story of Elwood Curtis, a smart, quiet, and inquisitive Black boy from Tallahassee, Florida, the kind of boy who would read encyclopedias for fun, if he owned a set. But he is also naïve and too easy-going. On his way to college, he hitchhikes in the wrong car, and is sentenced to Nickel Academy for being in a stolen car. There, he befriends a boy named Turner, and their hellish life at the racist school is revealed. Elwood and Turner are very different but ultimately very similar, too, as we learn throughout the book. By the end, you will wonder how they even got that far. Nickel Academy is Hell on Earth.

Whitehead has a marvelously observant eye, as seen here when he introduces Elwood's boss at a local tobacco shop. “Mr. Marconi left his perch by the register as seldom as possible. Squat and perspiring, with a low pompadour and a thin black mustache, he was inevitably disheveled by evening. The atmosphere at the front of the store was stringent with his hair tonic and he left an aromatic trail on hot afternoons. From his chair, Mr. Marconi observed Elwood grow older and lean toward the sun, veering away from the neighborhood boys...” Ever so keen on details, Whitehead also shows restraint at other times, giving sparse but descriptive details, allowing the reader's imagination to fill in some of the horrific events without bogging the reader down in the ugly details. If you're in Hell, what's the point of describing the details of window dressings?? Whitehead can paint a detailed picture with few strokes. Genius.

Whitehead describes Elwood's observations of racism at Nickel as “an indiscriminate spite, not a higher plan.” And that there makes the hellish abuse of Nickel crueler and ever more undeserving to a smart boy like Elwood. He still tries to find the joy in speeches by Martin Luther King, Jr. and hopes to find the deliverance of King's promise. But his friend Turner thinks the best thing to do is avoid evil like an obstacle course. What's the best course of action?

There is no better time than now to read The Nickel Boys, a magnificent novel that begs you to stare at the ugliness of racism and demands an empathetic response.

I loved this novel and I highly recommend it. I would give this novel 5 stars.

King's novella Elevation (billed as a novel on the cover, but it's way too short to be a novel) is both a gentle plea for us all to be kinder to each other and a meditation on death. There is a mystical premise where the main character Scott confides in a friend / retired doctor that he is losing pounds by the day but doesn't physically look any thinner. There is a parallel storyline where the town of Castle Rock has disdain for a lesbian couple who own a restaurant as well as two dogs that prefer to crap in Scott's yard. At first, Scott is annoyed with the couple. But once he drops the hate and embraces kindness, he learns they are good people.

King's novellas are some of my favorite of his catalog. The Body and Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption are great works of LITERARY fiction. That being said, I looked forward to reading another of his novellas with great interest. But unlike those two novellas, which looked back on a previous era with a nostalgic gaze, Elevation is firmly set in the present. And although there is a mystical element to this story, it takes a backseat to the parallel story of the townsfolk and their dislike of the lesbian couple. King is known for his progressive political leanings and I fit squarely into that camp as well, so he is speaking to the choir concerning his observations about how the town should be kinder to each other. I did enjoy this aspect of the story, but it wasn't revelatory to me by any means. Maybe, King was aiming for the more conservative readers of his work in hopes of turning some hearts.

Once Scott's circle of friends learn of his odd weight loss, they vow not to tell anyone of it, and the narrator must have kept this vow too, because its origin is not revealed to the reader. In this sense, Scott's weight loss is a metaphor for our dying selves, and as his weight plummets toward zero just as the days of our lives do the same, we are left to wonder about what his fate will be, even though we already know.

This was an enjoyable, quick read, although not as mystical as promised, and definitely too short to be described as a novel. If you're looking for great stories and excellent writing, then check out King's The Body and Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption in the novella collection titled Different Seasons. I'd give Elevation 3 and ½ stars.

This is a novel of speculative fiction that takes places at the Texas border in an alternate reality where drugs are legal and the new contraband is ancient Olmec artifacts, shrunken indigenous heads, and filtered (resurrected) animals. The main character, Bellacosa, works as a glorified repo man and, when he befriends a reporter named Paco, is introduced to this underground world of corruption and bizarre animal resurrections for the filthy rich to enjoy. The titular Trufflepig is the most prized of the filtered beasts, as it never existed before; it's a mythical creature like a unicorn brought to life.

So, as you can probably guess, this is a very strange novel. And it gets even weirder.

Flores' strengths as a writer are his painterly metaphors and similes as well as his ability to set a scene. The towns near the border are familiar in these pages to those of us who live in Texas, but there is also a bleakness and the oh-so-slight differences from reality that make the “parallel universe” concept conceivable. Flores has a poet's eye when describing food or the nostalgic pangs of Bellacosa's past.

Flores' weakness in this novel is the dialogue, which is mostly stilted and expository, rather than conversational and real. The only scene with authentic dialogue was the fever dream where Bellacosa revisits long-lost family members. But the rest of the characters that interact with Bellcosa–for the most part–spew long-winded soliloquies while he silently listens, even the waitresses in the diners have long, mostly one-sided conversations. This was a huge distraction from an otherwise well-written novel.

As strange as the story was, I did find myself ruminating on this book a while after finishing it, and I admired Flores' ability to poetically describe the region, particularly the cuisine. By the time Bellacosa visits his family members in the aforementioned fever dream, that bit of humanity was injected a little too late for me as I struggled to relate with Bellacosa's plight. The Trufflepig was a fitting companion for Bellacosa as it reconnected him to what he loved most: his family. Their exit together was a plausible end to this strange journey.

Meh.

This novel was released in 2001, then subsequently won the Pulitzer Prize. I admired Chabon's previous books and I began to read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay a few years ago after reading Wonder Boys (I absolutely LOVED Wonder Boys). But I had to put Kavalier & Clay down at the time because, mostly, I didn't have the necessary attention span for it. There is a density and intricacy to Chabon's sentences that require a certain amount of reader fortitude; a distracted mind will not find comfort in his prose. This time around, I found this novel to be a very enjoyable read and a marvelous book. It certainly deserves the praise and accolades it has received.

Here's this novel's brief description: Joe Kavalier, a young Jewish artist who has also been trained in the art of Houdini-esque escape, has just smuggled himself out of Nazi-invaded Prague and landed in New York City. His Brooklyn cousin Sammy Clay is looking for a partner to create heroes, stories, and art for the latest novelty to hit America - the comic book. Drawing on their own fears and dreams, Kavalier and Clay create the Escapist and Luna Moth, inspired by the beautiful Rosa Saks, who will become linked by powerful ties to both men.

If you are familiar with this era of the Comic Book Golden Age (1930s – 50s), then some of this story will seem a little familiar. Kavalier and Clay serendipitously propose and create a comic book hero called The Escapist for a disinterested businessman. He agrees to publish their comic book after learning of the popularity of Superman and the like and has them sign a boilerplate contract where their creation belongs to his company. This was commonplace at the time as a business practice. But when their creation becomes immensely popular, the creators are left out of the bulk of the wealth, having signed the ownership over to the company; many comic book creators during that time suffered the same fate, like Superman's creators Siegel and Shuster. Kavalier and Clay did make some nice dough as paid employees, but the owner received most of the fortune (millions of dollars). This part of the novel was meticulously told and Chabon's discussions with comic book legends Will Eisner, Stan Lee, and Gil Kane (as revealed in the novel's Author's Notes) bore great literary fruit.

After finishing this book, one of the more interesting aspects of the novel to me was Kavalier's background as an illusionist's understudy and the different levels this played out in the narrative. Obviously, his background in magic and escapism was an inspiration to the character of the Escapist. Chabon also reveals his great love for magic and sleight-of-hand, not only with enhancing Kavalier's personality and mode of operation, but with writing this novel. A good third of the novel reveals Kavalier's adeptness at vanishing, whether for self-preservation or to get what he wants. But ultimately, it's Chabon's sleight-of-hand that propels the narrative. Many, many times, there were moments where I couldn't believe that something was going to happen to Kavalier or Clay, then find out in subsequent chapters that what I feared was going to happen actually didn't happen. But Chabon's coup de grâce, his grand finale—literally in the last sentence of the book—is the revelation that the title of the novel may not be about who you thought it was. It was an amazing feat of literary perfection.

I only had a couple of issues with this novel. 1) Chabon can sometimes be a bit... long-winded. He has a peculiar habit of traipsing down asides like he has other stories he really wants to tell but shouldn't. And, as I said earlier, there is a density and intricacy to his prose that requires a certain amount of reader stamina and attention. 2) The content of the entirety of Part V of the novel is superfluous. If the almost 50 pages had been summarized in 5 pages, then the other 45 pages wouldn't have been missed—at all. After finishing the novel, I realized that this section of the novel (as unnecessary as it seemed content-wise at the time) was another bit of sleight-at-hand from Chabon, enhancing the powerful revelation in the last chapter. These two issues are quibbles, though.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay is a fantastic novel and well-worth the read. Funny, endearing, magical, and exquisitely written, I highly recommend it.

Like any curious writer, I occasionally read the award-winning books of the Pulitzer and Booker variety. I also watch award-winning movies (Oscars, Golden Globes, etc.) and listen to award-winning albums (Grammys, Pulitzer, et al.). I like to see what all the hub-bub is about and judge for myself. I really wanted to love Less by Andrew Sean Greer. It's classified as humorous (awesome) literary (even better) fiction. That's my wheelhouse (disclaimer: I also write humorous literary fiction). Unfortunately, I didn't love it. Sad, I know.

Published book blurb for Less: Who says you can't run away from your problems? You are a failed novelist about to turn fifty. A wedding invitation arrives in the mail: your boyfriend of the past nine years is engaged to someone else. You can't say yes–it would be too awkward–and you can't say no–it would look like defeat. On your desk are a series of invitations to half-baked literary events around the world. How do you arrange to skip town? You accept them all.

This is the setup to how Arthur Less avoids suffering and humiliation. He escapes. And this is what Greer uses to setup a series of comedic situations to drop author Arthur Less into. Some are amusing. Arthur believes he's fluent in German (he's not) while staying in Germany. His translated books are brilliant overseas (they're not. Maybe artfully translated). Comedic (?) foibles unfold. Arthur flies around the world, takes pills, hops in the sack(s) with various assistants and travel companions. He ruminates about past transgressions. Or does he since the book is narrated by someone else? This someone's identity is the novel's big reveal. Don't worry; I won't spoil it.

I found the character of Less to be annoying and unlikeable. I know there are readers that are attracted to this type of hot-mess, Peter Pan-esque, worried about aging / too vain for their own good character. I guess I'm not one of them. The narrator is fascinated with Arthur Less, infatuated even, the same way a pet owner is in love with their scrappy dog that pees on the rug while they claim it to be the cutest dog in the world. It's not; it's a dog that pees on the rug.

There is an airy, whimsical quality to Greer's writing. It goes down like a fresh-baked croissant does with an espresso while sitting on the patio of a French bistro. But there is also a shallowness that is cloying. It's lack of plot is unfortunate. And I kept thinking: What is so great about Arthur Less? More so, what is so great about Less? There is no accounting for the taste of the Pulitzer judges, I guess.

In the book, there is a passage where Arthur's old flame, Robert, actually wins the Pulitzer Prize (just like Andrew Sean Greer did?!), then a mutual friend of theirs explains:

“Prizes aren't love. Because people who never met you can't love you. The slots for winners are already set, from here until Judgment Day. They know the kind of poet who's going to win, and if you happen to fit the slot, then bully for you! It's like fitting a hand-me-down suit. It's luck, not love. Not that it isn't nice to have luck... “

I guess this novel had the luck this time. It must have been awkward for Greer to receive the Pulitzer after writing such a passage. Right? Probably not. He won the prize anyway. Bully for him.

I recently watched The Shawshank Redemption and Stand by Me with my wife and children. My wife and I had seen the movies when they first came out but our children had not seen either movie. The kids loved both movies and I was very pleased to see that the films held up beautifully with time. The movies are universally loved. If you don't believe me, then go look on Rotten Tomatoes (here and here).

I got to thinking (uh oh). The source material had to be great to make such fantastic movies. I read quite a bit of Stephen King in my teen years (Cujo, Carrie, Night Shift), but I hadn't read Different Seasons, the book of four novellas—two of which were the basis for these movies. My curiosity was piqued. Was it time for a personal reconsideration of Stephen King? I've recently discovered that there are a lot of critics doing this, particularly The Guardian's ‘Rereading Stephen King' column is giving it a go. I read their review of Different Seasons with great interest, although I disagreed with most of the James Smythe's assessments. But there is one thing he and I agree on: there is some literary greatness within the cover of Different Seasons. Unfortunately, there are some not so great moments, too.

I decided to buy the book through Audible. It is narrated by Frank Muller. I'll review his narration separately.

So, let's dive in!

The novellas “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption” and “The Body” are both affecting literary depictions of the power of friendship, something I love to see in fiction. If you love the movies The Shawshank Redemption and Stand by Me—based on these novellas—then you will also love these stories. The movies are faithful to the novellas with only slight changes that streamline their cinematic versions. The narrators tell their stories with an affecting lilt, remembering the friendships that bound them, even through harrowing events. King shows great descriptive flair in both stories and the dialogue is snappy and true to life. Red (the narrator of Shawshank) and Gordie (the narrator of The Body) are both likeable and effective storytellers who reveal the goodness beneath the criminals and punks of both stories.

“Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption” is perfect storytelling. Perfect!

“The Body” is great, too, with one exception. Two short stories are included—in full—within the novella that are examples of what Gordie publishes as an adult when he becomes a professional writer. Unfortunately, they do not add anything to the story of the four, young friends; and the “pie eating contest” could have more effectively been told by young Gordie as a campfire tale within the main narrative.

The novellas “The Apt Pupil” and “The Breathing Method” were less satisfying and, quite frankly, not worthy of inclusion with the other two novellas. In “The Apt Pupil,” neither main characters have any redeeming qualities whatsoever and reading this story was the equivalent of watching two rats devouring each other on a sinking ship. “The Breathing Method” is a Tales from the Crypt-inspired story told in long-form. This novella uses the “story within a story” structure, which can be fun if used effectively. Ultimately, this structure is used to only reveal a gruesome death, then the novella abruptly ends. Not much is revealed about either narrator and the “story within a story” structure is wasted for a salacious parlor trick.

“The Apt Pupil” is garbage. Complete garbage!

“The Breathing Method” is pointless, although a pared down version might make an effective script for a 1950s horror comic piece, if put in the hands of a great illustrator.

I enjoyed the Afterword of the book. In it, Stephen King tells the origins of each of the novellas and how they ended up in this compilation. In short, novellas were a hard sell to a publisher during that time in the 1970s and 80s, too short to sell as standalone works of fiction in bookstores and too long to sell to a magazine or literary journal. King's self-deprecating narration is in full-swing. He's funny, insightful, and self-effacing.

Finally, the narrator for this audiobook—Frank Muller—is excellent. His deep, baritone voice was pleasant to listen to and he barreled through the stories with conviction and vigor. His narration in “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption” was comparable to that of Morgan Freeman and he effectively altered his tone to depict each of the boys in “The Body.” His narration is top-notch. My only complaint is the sound quality of this Audible edition is somewhat tinny and sometimes Muller sounds like he is being recorded using a tin can with string. Nevertheless, he is a great narrator.

Verdict: I recommend this book for “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption” and “The Body” because they are both great literary works of fiction. You can skip “The Apt Pupil” and “The Breathing Method.” The Afterword is a fun addition and Frank Muller is a fantastic narrator.

Updated June 29, 2023: This is the fifth time I've read this novella and my love and admiration grow every time. It's one of my favorite stories about friendship. It's a masterpiece. I read it this time around with my daughter who loves it, too. Everything written in my review below still holds true.

——————-

This is the third time I've read this novella and my love for it has not diminished one bit. But for this review, I wanted to take a closer look at the structure of the story and try to discover why I love it. Structurally, this novella is flawed. There are some things about it that I do not like at all and detract from the overall plot and narrative. But even with its flaws, it is an amazing story with literary flourishes and fully-formed characters. It has a touch of nostalgia and reveals an endearing remembrance of a friendship whose power is not diminished over time. It's an affecting depiction of the power of friendship. “The most important things are the hardest things to say...” is the mantra of this story. Stephen King repeats this mantra a few times, even parses it at one point, then admits to the irony of an author declaring that words diminish the important things in our lives.

Here's the brief book description: It's 1960 in the fictional town of Castle Rock, Maine. Ray Brower, a boy from a nearby town, has disappeared, and twelve-year-old Gordie Lachance and his three friends set out on a quest to find his body along the railroad tracks. During the course of their journey, Gordie, Chris Chambers, Teddy Duchamp, and Vern Tessio come to terms with death and the harsh truths of growing up in a small factory town that doesn't offer much in the way of a future. This novella is the basis for the classic movie Stand by Me.

King shows great descriptive flair and the dialogue is snappy and true to life. Gordie (the narrator and one of the boys as an adult) is likeable and an effective storyteller who reveals the goodness beneath the hard exterior that is beginning to form during this formidable time in their lives. The story is both an adventure and a coming-of-age tale with a bit of mystery. We, the readers, never find out how or why exactly Ray Brower is killed, neither at the time or in hindsight. But the initial spookiness of his death and the morbid desire of the boys to see his body eventually turns into a meditation on life, what Ray Brower will be missing, and what the four friends unintentionally have to look forward to in their own lives. The connection between the four friends is palpable, particularly between Gordie and Chris. They eventually find the wherewithal to do better in school so they can escape the oppressive blue-collar life of the town of Castle Rock. And the connection they have begins with this adventure to find Ray Brower.

Structurally, I feel the novella fails in a couple of areas. First, two short stories are included—in full—within the novella that are examples of what Gordie publishes as an adult when he becomes a professional writer. Unfortunately, they do not add anything to the story of the four, young friends; and the “pie eating contest” could have more effectively been told by young Gordie as a campfire tale within the main narrative. Second, the ending is a letdown. It feels—to me—like King didn't know what to do with a story like this, as it was way outside of his wheelhouse at the time of its original publication. The morbid Ch 33 and deflated Ch 34 (the last two chapters) seem as if King decided to “right the ship” and steer the plot to an ending that would ultimately satisfy his horror-loving readership, rather than find meaning in the things he was exploring in this story: friendship, camaraderie, and many of the important things in one's life. “The most important things are the hardest things to say...” And as we are reminded of this time and time again in the story, King chose not to say them, or even to try to attempt to say what he really wanted to say. A period of great friendship in a person's life can have a lasting effect, one that resonates long after the friendship is over, as is evident in a story like this. In the end, King was and still is known as a horror writer, and there was no way he was going to end this story on a positive note.

But again, even with these flaws, I love this story and novella. The friendship between the boys is the heart of the story and I love their adventure and the way they lookout (mostly) for each other. I love that an adventure like this can be known only to its principal actors, as no one in Castle Rock was aware of what they did during their time looking for Ray Brower, and it's a secret we share with the boys. And I love being reminded that any preconceptions you can have about a writer can be shattered with a curveball like this. King summarizes the story best at the end of Ch 11. “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, did you?” Now that is the true conclusion of this wonderful novella.

A hypnotic post-apocalyptic story with a dire sense of dread. Great characters propel this cross-country, thrill-ride as alternate pasts are revealed. Highly recommended!

This massive book of essays, musings, comics, photos, recipes, and more tells the story of Beastie Boys, by band members ADROCK and Mike D (MCA passed away from cancer in 2012), with contributions from Amy Poehler, Spike Jonze, Kate Schellenbach, just to name a few. This book does chronicle the shenanigans most casual readers may expect from the Beastie Boys, but being that this book is a gargantuan 600-page Beastie tome, I don't believe it was intended for a casual reader. It is for beloved fans of Beastie Boys and music in general, as well as a love letter to friendship and New York City (and a love note to Los Angeles, too).

The photos and various ephemera are enjoyable but I particularly liked the self-awareness put on display by ADROCK (Adam Horowitz) and Mike D (Michael Diamond) about their friendships, their place in time in NYC when they were kids, their luck at being in the right place at the right time, and their adolescent mistakes. All of their misogynistic jokes on their early recordings and videos still haunt them to this day and they gracefully retell many of the steps they took to fix their youthful transgressions with their friends. Early band member Kate Schellenbach is given a chance to tell her side of the story of why she felt she was “fired” from the band and her observations of that time. It's an affecting part of their story. And I clearly remember hearing their song Sure Shot for the first time with its infamous MCA verse, “I want to say a little something that's long overdue / the disrespect to women has got to be through / To all the mothers and the sisters and the wives and friends / I wanna offer my love and respect till the end” and thinking to myself, ‘They're growing up. That's cool.'

For me, Beastie Boys were and still are a big part of my musical life. I have enjoyed all of their music and videos since She's On It. I was 15 when License to Ill came out. My friends and I memorized all the lyrics on Paul's Boutique. Hearing Check Your Head for the first time in my car BLEW MY MIND! Ill Communication continued blowing my mind. I saw them at Lollapalooza in ‘94 at their Houston stop. I also saw their In the Round show in Austin at the Frank Erwin Center. To say the Beastie Boys are part of my life is an understatement. So, reading this book not only gave me more insight about their lives, it also sparked my own memories of my life as it was partly soundtracked by their music.

What a glorious soundtrack that is!

If you're a fan of Beastie Boys or music in general, then I highly recommend this book.

There There, the debut novel by Tommy Orange, follows a large cast of Native Americans who live in Oakland, California. Orange does a masterful job of setting up his narrative with a prologue about the history of Native Americans and the power of who tells those stories, whether by white people or others. Then he unfurls the narrative with each of his characters stories like a patchwork quilt weaved with sadness and regret and remorse. All his characters are troubled and, unfortunately for them and the reader as well, there will be no light at the end of their tunnel. The narrative is a dirge, figuratively and literally. It's a heavy story but one that needed to be told and listened to. I think it's important to hear the stories of all Americans, most importantly the marginalized.

Having a happy ending is not a requirement for me but to invest in these characters then have their lives end in the way it does in this novel is like a sucker punch. It's a cheap shot. But these characters' lives are worth reading about. Hope is a powerful subtext; I just wished for a little more of it.

Orange does a curious thing by mixing first, second, and third person narration. His first-person narration is particularly effective, as his characters' personalities jump off the page. The second-person choice even makes sense in the chapter where it's used. But the third-person choice is a head-scratcher. Why offer some of these marginalized characters the power of narrating their own stories then deny some others by using a mysterious narrator? Why not let them tell their own stories? The only thing the third-person narration did was confuse me. Why aren't they telling their own story? Why does Tony speak for himself but Bill doesn't? It's an odd choice and one I'm surprised his editor didn't question. Maybe Orange was showing off like a juggler adding burning bowling pins to his set of rubber balls.

Overall, a good read with some exceptional writing, although the end left a little to be desired. I would give this novel a 3.75 stars.

An entertaining and engrossing biographical account of the life of Robin Williams. All of his milestones are covered and there are some fantastic interviews and bits about everyone's favorite movies, TV shows, and comedy routines. There is also a somber thread that runs through the entire book, partly because of the known addiction issues Robin faced, but mostly because Robin intensely needed validation and adulation for his work, something that is hard to maintain at high levels for as long as his career was.

The book does a thorough job of chronicling the ups and downs of his career and lists many, many projects that I had not seen or was even aware of, many of which were ruthlessly panned by critics. His son Zak explains, “Dad's happiness was correlated very much to how he was doing, career-wise... When there were films that would be less successful, he took it very personally. He took it as a personal attack.” With Robin's well-chronicled depression and anxiety, it almost seemed that being in the film industry was a recipe for disaster for him personally. Who can take the litany of critical attacks over years between the career highs that would save his career? It must have been very difficult.

Ultimately, this book reminded me why I loved Robin Williams so much. The wonderful films are all here: Good Morning Vietnam, The Fisher King, Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, and so much more. Robin had enough high points to sustain an army of entertainers. He was a singular comedian and actor. Great book about a great man.

Welcome back, Hank.
Nice to see you again, Buk.
They dug through your bones
Found poems, some
Uncollected
Others,
Unpublished.
Propped them up along with
Your doodles, which
To be honest...
Aren't that great but
I still like you, Buk.
You still got the chops, man.
The magic is still there
In some of these poems.
Some still sparkle, like jewels
In the morning sunlight
After a night of debauchery
And inebriated romance.
Others,
Well... let's just say
Reading this collection
Of your poems
Is like looking at Polaroid photos
Of anyone's life.
They show–scattershot,
How the work can be inconsistent
Over a long period of time.
Though not as glorious as
Your other collections,
Like
The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills
Or
Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame
It was still nice to hear your voice
Again.
Like a fog horn
Blowing in the night.
Your glorious literary voice is still
M O N U M E N T A L!
I loved seeing the
Photocopies of poems
Letters on the page like
Bullet holes through a paper target.
Nice shot, man!
You were a sharpshooter, Buk.
Don't worry. I got your back. But,
Please, if you could,
Send a memo. Shoot a fax.
To whoever is in charge of
Your legacy.
There is nothing left to prove.
I still like you, Buk.
You were a sharpshooter, man.
Got any beer?
No?!
Sorry to hear that.