Chris Blocker
Back in the 1980s, when I was a kid, one of my favorite reads was [b:True Stories You Won't Believe 15775712 True Stories You Won't Believe Don L. Wulffson https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1343564749l/15775712.SY75.jpg 21487281] by Don Wulffson. I was enthralled by the stories of alien invasion in Kelly, Kentucky, the man who appeared in two places at once, the boy who caused water to come up through the floor, and others. Some were just random coincidences or strange, but entirely believable stories (like Roy Riegels' infamous running the wrong way at a football game), but it's the creepy, paranormal stories that always brought me back. Looking back, these were just snippets from news articles, edited and compiled in this tiny volume, but my imagination ran wild with them.I was hoping Strange, Dark & Mysterious would scratch that same nostalgic itch. Unlike many other reviewers, I have no idea who MrBallen is. I went into these stories just looking for weird tales that would haunt me. I was hopeful that the added illustrations would stick in my brain and occasionally keep me up at a night. Unfortunately, neither the tales nor the illustrations did a whole lot for me. As a whole, I thought the stories were rather tame. I think a big part of this was the way they were told, very matter-of-factly without much color. And yes, that barebones style worked for me in the aforementioned True Stories..., but I was nine then. Now, I'd like to be pulled in more.Despite my lackluster response, I do think the first story in this collection, “The Valley of Headless Men,” somewhat succeeded at getting at what I was looking for. It was told in a believable manner, leaving me slightly spooked and curious about the mystery. After reading this story, I went to the Internet to learn more about the Nahanni Valley, a true measure of this tale's success. The rest of the stories in this collection I practically forgot shortly after finishing them. I wonder if my response was in part the medium: while the choice of using illustrations did add something, the lack of text took a big something away from the oral tale aspect one comes to expect from campfire tales.
I'm primarily a character-driven reader. I don't require a whole lot of plot. Show me the deep psychology of a character, what they mentally go through when they face some struggle, and I'm happy. To get me really hooked, throw in some metafictional elements or clever wordplay. I can read an entire novel about a man at the grocery store and love it; I can become engrossed with a book about a woman sitting in her living room, drinking coffee, and watching people go by. Plot is nice to have, but it's not a requirement for me.
Orbital essentially has no plot. It's a day in the life of a six-crew space station. Not even an exciting day, just a pretty mundane day. And I could be okay with that–except there's not really much happening with these characters either. The only points of significance is that one of their mothers has recently died, and a ship will be passing their orbit today, making them no longer the humans farthest from the earth, but neither of these really make much of an impact on the novel. We get the characters' thoughts, their interactions with one another, but in a single day without any really defining moments, it's really rather dry.
This is a novel for lovers of language. It reads like a love letter in novel form to space, earth, and humanity. Those who love metaphors and meditations on beauty (but rarely its opposite) will likely bask in the rays of this novel. Some of it might get you thinking about the bigger picture, but some is just meant to sound pretty. If you're a reader who is language-driven, this might be one worth checking out.
Personally, I thought Orbital was rather dry. I didn't dislike it, but I did find it tedious. If this novel had been two or three times the length it was, I probably would've hated it, or even not finished it. Fortunately, it was a very quick read.
There was so much I liked about The Safekeep, but believability is such a huge thing to me, and ultimately, that is where I found myself distancing myself from this novel. Setting up a story in a world that is the same as the one I live in, without any explanations for deviations, means I expect certain things. And I know this is my own flaw. When I was an MFA student, workshopping my own fiction, there was a scene I wrote that several of my fellow students got stuck on: This would never happen, they said. It's not believable. But that scene was semi-autobiographical, and what they were saying could never happen had actually happened exactly like that. Of course, in that setting, I wasn't allowed to correct them or tell them differently. Perhaps that is the same kind of scenario at play here; nevertheless, I find myself in disbelief.
There was much that I especially enjoyed. The atmosphere is great. It's easy to get lost in this place and to see these scenes play out before your eyes. The suspense is really good, however, those looking for SUSPENSE will be disappointed. This is a subtle, literary story that creates an air of tension. There is not going to be a huge unexpected twist that involves the clone in the attic. And lastly, the writing was sharp and the characters were really well drawn (though to be clear, I found their actions to be sometimes unbelievable).
I won't go into much detail about what I found unbelievable as I think it has the potential to spoil the story for some. And it's not so much that the characters got to the places they did, but the fact that it happened in a single sentence. Does that kind of flash development happen in real life? Yes. Does it happen under the conditions that the story presents (considering the history of those involved, mental health, personalities, present circumstances, etc.)? I really, truly doubt it. So much so that I found myself angry and frustrated with the absurdity of it. I admit, I could myself be that student now, saying “this would never happen” while the author says nothing. Thirteen years from now I imagine she may shake her head, remembering my comment, thinking how truly ignorant other people can be.
This is my third Richard Powers novel. All three I've read primarily because of their placement on the Booker Prize longlist. While I greatly respected the two I read before, I was unable to really connect while I was reading them, and forgot them very shortly after. I had much better success with Playground, but in all honesty, this might have more to do with me as a reader than with the book itself.
For years now, I've continued reading when I just didn't feel like it. I felt like something was wrong with me if I wasn't reading, and so I pushed through dozens of books, my eyes scanning the pages, but not really connecting. Recently, after telling myself for much of that time I was going to be more deliberate with my reading, I actually followed through, and really started to slow down and absorb the books. The irony is that by slowing down, I seem to be reading more. So, while I can say, Playground is the best of Powers' novels I have read, I honestly cannot say that it's really any better or worse, just that I was personally more engaged and that it's stuck with me longer than the others had. Maybe that's what reading is for all of us, the right books at the right time, and ratings are asinine. But I continue to digress.
Powers tackles quite a bit in Playground. Honestly, the set-up for the actual story really takes over half of the book, but most of that feels interesting and forward moving. There are a number of characters, cultures, technologies, and ideas that need to be unpacked and explored through backstory. Powers manages to pull all of these seemingly unrelated threads into a finale that works, though is perhaps overwrought. As expected, the depictions of nature are gorgeously rendered and left me running to the Internet to learn more about some of the wildlife and places Powers named.
Perhaps the biggest critique I imagine Playground will face is in Powers' diverse cast. At times, the author feels out of touch with the characters he inhabits. Even his depictions of college students felt off, cramming randomly strewn profanity into their mouths at odd times. This section is also where the story meanders a bit too long, getting lost in a part of the backstory that could've easily been trimmed significantly. Lastly, the ending surprised me, and that's a feat as I generally have a pretty fair guess of where a story is going, but I don't know that this conclusion really worked for me. It will definitely leave some readers fuming, I promise.
Given Powers' track record–every novel he's written since Americans were admitted into the Booker Prize has been listed–I suspect I'll be reading another of his books in three to four years. That is assuming the world will then be in a state where such things will matter.
Oh, Booker Prize. Because of you the number of sports novels I've read has probably doubled. That's not something I expected when I started following this prize closely more than a decade ago.
I decided to start my reading of the 2024 longlist with Headshot, a short novel about a two-day boxing tournament of teenage girls, because I thought it might not be a book for me, and I was hoping to knock it out of the way early.
I was honestly very surprised by how much I loved this book initially. The writing was really great, though I could've done without a couple over-the-top similes. I was invested in the fights and found myself rooting for one girl over the other. There was a lot of depth and beauty for such short interactions with each character.
Somewhere past the midway mark, my interest began to wane. I think this might be in part because some of the characters I'd personally found the most captivating had been eliminated. But I think there was also a change in the writing. The bouts seemed to conclude faster as the book went on. The insights were fewer and less poignant. To me, it felt like the author had run out of steam or wasn't sure where else to go with this story.
I liked this novel more than I thought I might, and had it maintained the same level in the second half as it had in the first, it might've even made my shortlist. Though I've yet to read the other twelve books, I expect this one will be a first-round knockout for me in the end.
A sweet story. Fans of uplifting literature, particularly featuring older people, will savor this one.
I myself enjoyed the story of Helen and the mouse. There was a sweetness to their relationship, and her transformation and the love she had for Sipsworth felt genuine. It was when other characters became more and more frequent that my interest waned. I understood why they were included, and they do complete the picture of Helen coming alive again, but many of their actions are beyond the scope of what's believable and they were often cartoonish in their antics.
An easy read that I personally thought was better in the first half. Those willing to suspend disbelief and trust that humans are consistently only capable of charitable, selfless actions will likely love this novel through the end.
So far this is my favorite from the Booker longlist, but I've still got several more to get through.
I'll come back and say more, but I'll say now that I really thought most of this book was absolutely amazing, but I do agree with the many who were disappointed with the ending. Still, a very engaging read.
If you've read any other reviews of The House of Doors, you've likely encountered every possible thought I could have to offer about this novel. In short, Tan Twan Eng's The House of Doors is beautifully composed. The story is tight. The characters are engaging. This is a wonderfully classic example of award-winning historical fiction.
And yet, it's too good of an example, because this novel eerily echoes so many others that were very notable thirty, forty, or more years ago. Certainly styles can come around again, but I don't personally see the overwrought but beautiful historical dramas making a comeback in exactly the same fashion. There's a very specific style here that feels tremendously out of date, particularly the details of wealthy British citizens facing trials in foreign locations. Yet, the fact that the novel is in part about an author who himself wrote these kinds of stories perhaps offers a reasonable and clever explanation for why the author embraced this style and nailed it so perfectly.
Don't get me wrong, The House of Doors is a great novel and I see it as a great example of what a sweeping historical novel can be. It just really doesn't do anything imaginative or original with the genre. As such, I highly recommend it to anyone who's still looking for more historical literature of ol'.
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for feedback.
I have read THE BEST Booker-longlisted book about an island and its isolated people whose traditions are jeopardized when outsiders bring their well-intentioned but prejudiced efforts ashore. It was called The Colony by Audree Magee. And I'm still very bitter that that amazing book was not only not shortlisted, but failed to take the whole Prize last year. Hell, I might even argue it was the best overall nominated book in the last decade. Well, someone was paying attention, because this year's long list features a book with a very similar premise. Hell, the young man who is most affected by the outsiders, the one who can potentially bridge the gap between the two cultures, is a very talented painter. It's almost as if I've read the same book!
Except I haven't. This Other Eden takes place off the coast of Maine, on a fictional island inspired by the real life Malaga island. Malaga Island, like its fictional counterpart here (Apple Island), was the site of a racially integrated community, one of the first of its kind in the 1800s. So there are obvious differences right away between The Colony with its isolated Irish island and the island of The Other Eden. But the biggest difference is really in the quality of the story. This Other Eden has its moments of greatness, but much of this story drags on. Magee was clever with The Colony, using every word skillfully, creating a plot with multiple layers. She created an entertaining story that could stand on its own, but which doubled as an thorough exploration of the ills of colonization without being heavy handed. This Other Eden is not that kind of story. It is one where the writing is overwrought much of the time. Is it full of beautiful and visceral strings of adjectives and descriptions? Absolutely. But a story also needs to be alive, and I did not feel that Harding embraced his characters or was close enough to the story to really capture it. Certainly, as a reader, I never really felt I connected with the occupants of Apple Island.
I recommend This Other Eden for fans of historical novels saturated with ornate descriptions and impossibly complex sentences, e.g. the works of Marilynne Robinson or Geraldine Brooks. For most readers who are curious about this storyline, I suggest checking out The Colony.
Western Lane was a slow and quiet novel. In it, we follow Gopi, a young girl who has recently lost her mother. As a means to look past the trauma, Gopi and her sisters are encouraged by their father to delve completely into the world of squash. (If you, like me, didn't really know what squash was, I'll tell you what I learned: it's very, very similar to racquetball–and if you don't know what racquetball is...). And so we have a short novel about Gopi grieving, putting her entire heart into a sport, learning about family and sisterhood, and experiencing the flutter of first love. Western Lane is that quiet coming-of-age story about loss and love, and yes, there's some sports in the background.
One of the things I most liked about Western Lane was that it was consistent throughout. This consistently was appreciated and what made this otherwise quiet tale rise above. The prose is direct, focusing on the action and dialogue of each scene. Aside from the sports, there isn't a ton of pep in this novel. In the grand scheme of things, there isn't a lot at stake here. Yet, from beginning to end, there is a solid story about growing up, and a deeper exploration of how silence and distraction can be used to fill a huge void.
This isn't the kind of novel that will likely blow the average reader's mind, or impress upon them deeply, but it is a work that holds a lot of subtlety beneath its surface. And as a debut, it shows a lot of potential for a young novelist.
I enjoyed Bump's debut Everywhere You Don't Belong. It wasn't a perfect book, but it showed so much potential that when I saw the author's sophomore effort was on the way, I had to snag a copy.
The premise of a young Black couple starting an isolated utopian community really pulled me in. Like Everywhere You Don't Belong, The New Naturals highlights Bump's knack for language, clever turns of phrases tucked between melodic prose that consistently move the story forward. One of my favorite things about Bump's debut was the characters. Unfortunately, none of these characters stuck with me the way that Nugget, Paul, or Claude's grandmother did, but that's not to say that these characters are not also well-crafted. They just can't compare to their predecessors.
The New Naturals is a novel that seems to brush against something wonderful, but never really digs down into it. Perhaps this just comes with the satirical nature of the writing, but even the satire seems underdeveloped in this story. I feel like there's a nugget of brilliance here that doesn't quite develop. This is most evident, in my opinion, in all the various threads that are introduced and just seem to dangle loosely–entire storylines that just end, connections that aren't quite made.
Though I didn't love The New Naturals, I see some of that same potential I saw in Everywhere.... I'm hopeful that the next book will be the one that really brings all the magic together.
In my other review of Bump's work, I compared Everywhere You Don't Belong heavily to the writing of Adam Levin. I don't see that as much here, but now that I've read more Percival Everett, I'm beginning to see a comparison there. Now, it might be worth taking note that Levin provided a glowing piece of praise for Bump's debut, and Everett provided a blurb for The New Naturals. So I think it's evident to me, if not to everyone else reading this by now, that I'm apparently a terribly lazy reviewer who cannot think for himself. So take this review for what it's worth.
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for feedback.
Steinbeck was absolutely calling it in on this one.
I'm now nearing the end of my journey through the complete works of John Steinbeck. The handful of his works I have yet to read don't inspire too much optimism for anything mindblowing (The Short Reign of Pippin IV, Steinbeck in Vietnam, The Grapes of Wrath Journals, and A Life in Letters), but I know I've reached the bottom with Bombs Away.
This book is really that bad. It's propaganda, pure and simple. And though I know Steinbeck vacillated between patriotism and disaffection throughout his life, I'm still shocked by these moments of adoration for the war machine.
I knew going into this that I probably wouldn't like it, but I expected to see more of Steinbeck's character. This is a 185-page pamphlet about the U.S. Air Force. Often, sentences and ideas are repeated over and over again (a young man may enter the Air Force wanting to be a pilot or a navigator or a bombardier or a gunner or a radio operator or an engineer, but the Air Force will give him tests that will determine which position he is best suited for. Also, he may enter the Air Force wanting to be a pilot or a navigator or a bombardier...)
I searched these pages for some semblance of heart. There isn't any. It's dry. The only place where there's any style whatsoever (and it's light), is in the final few paragraphs, a sad attempt to stir some sense of pride in the men heading out to battle.
If you, like me, needed to read everything Steinbeck read, Bombs Away is unavoidable. For anyone else, I strongly suggest not giving it another thought.
I have been waiting twelve years for Melinda Moustakis to write another book. I'd only recently given up, believing all we'd ever get from her was a single, wonderful collection of stories. I was absolutely mesmerized by the skill and beauty of Bear Down, Bear North. I very much look forward to reading this novel, though I already know I'll be going into it with unrealistic expectations.
I'm in a significant reading slump this year. More so than I've been in a very long time.
I'm going to try to read some books that I normally wouldn't have at the top of my list, see if that sparks something. Perhaps taking a break from the routine will reignite my passion for reading.
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Meh. Took eight months to read this book. I thought it actually started out pretty well, but it got preachier and more absurd as it went on. There were some definite surprises in how the characters dealt with some heavy topics (regarding victim blaming, shame, forgiveness), and there were other times they fell into line with the more conservative thoughts of the time (ie, gender roles, duty to husband, etc.) Some things I really liked about the story and the writing, and some things that made me just want to throw the book.
I really enjoyed the bulk of this novel, but the final section was a bit much for me personally. The same way that Stephen King can drag a story out, can take something scary and make it absurdly funny, Jones does here. Maybe that's just horror. I don't need the scary antagonist who has been very meticulous in their brutality up to this point, to reach the climax of the story and start offering up monologues, or performing a song and dance, or playing a game of basketball. It doesn't work for me, and I felt like that whole final section could've been done differently and this would've been a much scarier, much more effective, and much better book. But it definitely works for King, and I'm not typically a reader of horror, so I'm far from an expert. That's just my personal take.
That said, there's a lot of great writing in this novel, and the same way I return to King every once in a while to satiate that need for a good scary story (always accompanied with a heavy dose of eye rolling), I imagine I'll be returning to the work of Stephen Graham Jones.
Maus is an important work for both comics and the Holocaust. I appreciate how this story paints a full picture of events leading up to one Jewish man's experience in Auschwitz and his exit from the camp. Often the stories I've come across show a person being taken from their life, moved straight into the camp where they either die or are eventually liberated, and that's the end of the story. Here we get a much more complete story.
So why three stars? First, the art style is nothing spectacular. Yes, in a medium where that is what is being presented, that is important. Next, I'm not all that behind the author's choice of animals when depicting people. There are some stereotypes here, and it doesn't bode well with me. Okay, yes, we see what you're doing with the cats and the mice. But Poles are pigs, French are frogs, the one Black person is a dopey patois-speaking Hound, and of course Americans are the ever lovable and loyal family dogs. Lastly, I think the book loses something by focusing so incredibly much on Art's attempt to get the story from his father. It feels like half the book is in the present, a depiction of Art's constant irritation at his miserly father's life.
This book is heartbreaking and important (and far from being too controversial for a classroom), but I don't think this should be the starting and ending point of someone's exploration of the Jewish Holocaust.
When so much of a story is fantastic, and it all falls apart in the final thirty pages. : I'm still giving this novel four stars for all it did in the preceding pages: Great characters, riveting story, excellent pacing, wonderfully drawn settings. I don't normally recommend skipping the end, but I'd be tempted to make that suggestion on this one.
Terribly slow beginning about a girl reading a book, complete with long passages taken from the book she's reading. So dry.
When the action finally picks up midway, this story is very riveting and exciting. Whoa!
Unfortunately, the conclusion was a little too pat and anticlimatic. Meh.
Not sure if we'll read the rest of the series.
I thought Ten Thousand Saints started well. The writing was solid, the characters were interesting, and the story pulled me in. The initial setup with Jude, Teddy, and Eliza was compelling.
Unfortunately, it didn't last. The story gets wrapped up with so many different themes, each pulling in a different direction, and only a quarter of the way into the novel, it all began to feel rather busy. By the end, the different threads were so tangled that the story felt entirely too messy, and I'd lost interest long before the conclusion.
*Side note: I was annoyed by the characters frequent use of “Jeezum Crow.” No real person says that. A young person would definitely never use that phrase. And all these characters are saying that. Completely unbelievable! But I looked up the phrase and found out it's a common regional thing in Vermont. So maybe not so unbelievable. But it's still just as annoying.
This book had lots of great information and provided some “food for thought,” but it's definitely dated. When the author talks about the Internet, for instance, he brings to mind the days when Alta Vista was the search engine of choice, and YouTube was years away from becoming a reality. Surely much has changed with the foods we consume, both good changes and bad.
The author's personal and political biases are on full display throughout the book, and I found this distracting. This was perhaps Fast Food Nation's greatest flaw.