Review: The Coupe Next Door

I should be somewhat ashamed to say that the first book I read in 2019 is The Couple Next Door by Shri Lapena.   It is a plot driven page turner / thriller focusing on the unraveling of a kidnapping.   Although often compare to them, it does not in the same category of quality as Gone Girl or The Girl on The Train.    There is very little character development, and what there is does not seem real or particularly well crafted.  Because of this, the various twists just come out of nowhere, with some being guessed at from miles a why from first principles.

Still, I read it.

The last book I read in 2018

The last book I read in 2018 was The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell by Mark Kurlansky.  It was a quick and enjoyable read, perfect for a holiday or other vacation.  It especially hit my interests of history, New York City, and, of course oysters.  The focus on oysters, and the surrounding ocean more generally, is a great hook into pre-20th century New York City geography and culture.

A draft genome of the Pacific Oyster was published in 2012, with analysis showing an expansion of heat shock proteins (HSP) and cytochromes. 

Review: Hitch-22

Christopher Hitchens is best consumed in small doses. This makes him a wonderfully infuriating essayist. His memoir, Hitch-22, however is much longer than an essay and at times takes some dedication to plow through.

The memoir focuses on the upbringing and social scene that Hitchens became a part of. Following along is his stories of dinner parties and friendships offers a crash course in the names and personalities of the 20th century leftist public intellectual literati. Here is one example of the sort of banter associated with this set:

At all events there came a time when someone arrived late at a dinner party complaining of having been stuck at an airport with nothing to read but a Robert Ludlum-style novel. This didn’t seem worth pursuing until the complaint was refined somewhat: “ I mean it’s not just that the prose is so bloody awful but that the titles are so sodding pretentious … The Bourne Inheritance, The Eiger Sanction; all this portentous piffle.” Again, not a subject to set the table afire, until someone idly said they wondered what a Shakespear play would be called if it were Ludlum who had the naming if it. At once Salman [Salman Rushdie] was engaged and began to smile. “All right, Salman: Hamlet by Ludlum!” At once—and I mean with as much preperation as I have given you – "The Elsinore Vacillation.” Fluke? Not exactly. Challenged to the same for Macbeth, he produced “The Dunsinane Reforestation” with hardly a flourish and barely a beat. After this it was plain sailing through “The Kerchiefe Implication”, “The Rialto Sanction”, and one about Caliban and Prospero that I once knew but now can never remember.

The parts I found most interesting involved Salman Rushdie, Edward Siad, and Hitchens’s opinions on the war in Iraq. Of course, must also mention Hitchens and Martin Amis. This seems like a wonderful and true friendship. We get it. It is touching how Hitchens admires him, and knowingly compares his own literary abilities with those of his friend.

The parade of authors and poets and Marxist intellectuals gets a little wearisome at times. But still, few can do self-righteous rage of the intellectual liberal sort as well as Hitchens. Again, on Rushdi:

“When the Washington Post telephoned me at home on Valentine’s Day 1989 to ask my opinion about the Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa, I felt at once that there was something that completely committed me. It was, if I can phrase it like this, a matter of everything I hated versus everything I loved. In the hate column: dictatorship, religion, stupidity, demagogy, censorship, bullying, and intimidation. In the love column: literature, irony, humor, the individual, and the defense of free expression. Plus, of course, friendship—though I like to think that my reaction would have been the same if I hadn’t known Salman at all. To re-state the premise of the argument again: the theocratic head of a foreign despotism offers money in his own name in order to suborn the murder of a citizen of another country, for the offense of writing a work of fiction. No more root-and-branch challenge to the values of the Enlightenment (on the bicentennial of the fall of the Bastille) or to the First Amendment to the Constitution, could be imagined. President George H. W. Bush, when asked to comment, could only say grudgingly that, as far as he could see, no American interests were involved.

The description of the friendship and then falling apart (personally and intellectually) of Hitchens and Edward Said offers a wonderful description of the nature of such intellectual relations. The chapter on him is great, and it inspired me to look up and read Hitchens’s essay after Said's death. It, as well as other writings revealed by Google, make me think that I may not actually understand what Said is really trying to say in Orientalism.

Some of these best parts of Hitch-22 have appeared elsewhere. Also, there is no denying the negative qualities of Hitchens (he can come across as an ass and a misogynist). But, anyone who enjoys or loves to hate his essays would get something out of Hitch-22.

Review: The Age of Innocence

Following on from The House of Mirth, I recently finished Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. Published in 1920, this novel focuses on the morals of 1870s-era New York Society. The title is intended to be ironic, as the protagonist, Newland Archer, definitely has some inclinations that Society would not approve of. The point, however, is that in the end Archer chooses to repress his true feelings.

Archer, a young lawyer from a fashionable family, faces a problem that is not unique to his time or place. Should he marry the woman he is engaged to--the beautiful but dull and passive May, or the exciting, foreign-influenced, and curious (and already married but nearly divorced) Ellen? What a choice. Clearly, in the end Archer does the Right Thing and carries on through life and marriage as he is dutifully expected to. This is made all the more apparent by the final chapter which revisits Archer and his engaged son 25 years later. His son lives essentially in the times depicted in The House of Mirth, a detail that adds a fascinating backdrop for Wharton's depiction of the way things were.

I quite enjoyed my 2009 perspective on Wharton's 1920 perspective on what things were like in the 1870s. There isn't anything deep or nuanced in the story, but the commentary on society and shifting morals and marriage is still fertile territory.

The obvious questions is, all things considered, did Archer pick the right woman? But, really, he never actually had a choice. And, more importantly, no body was nearly as independent, educated, or--dare I say it--modern as the characters in The House of Mirth.

Review: The House of Mirth

The House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton, is not a Victorian novel. It was written in 1905. By an American. I continue to be surprised by how quickly Victorian social norms appear to have changed. Wharton's novel focuses on the life and loves of Lily Bart, a New Yorker socialite who has manged to get married yet. She is beautiful. And graceful, with a keen sense of style. And, mostly vacuous with out any real skills or ability to get by own her own. Of course, that is the way she was brought up, so it is unfair to blame her to much. Mostly, though, this struck me us a book for about women and their relationships. This is particularly so in the descriptions of Bart's own awareness of her tactical flirtations.

I enjoyed the story, but I'm not sure it left any deep or lasting impressions. It does offer a great sense of the society of the time, and the changing nature of the era. I see the points that Wharton was trying to make about social mores and the circumscribed roles for women, but think those lessons are better described elsewhere.

Review: Anathem

Anathem, Neal Stephenson's latest novel, was a book I couldn't put down. But, really, I'm totally the perfect demographic for this type of novel. And I eat them up with glee. I love grandiose, epic novels which create a whole, distinct universe to play around in. So much the better then when that universe is packed with allusions and references to specific topics (particularly in science, math, and philosophy) which I'm already enamored with. I totally got sucked into Stephenson's world of Arbre. I kept thinking about the characters, the arguments, and the deeper meanings. I started using terms Stephenson invented for this world, and have contemplated what lessons I can apply to my own existence.

I'm not going to spell out the plot in detail. There are plenty of other reviews (eg, here, here, here )to check out if you want more background and a bit of a spoiler. My opinions are clear: Stephenson is awesome. Anathem is awesome. You should read it.

Review: A Happy Marriage

One normally indicates that a novel is good by saying "I couldn't put it down." A Happy Marriage, by Rafael Ygelesias, accomplishes something more difficult and more lasting. I had to put it down after every three or four chapters. The content was too intense; I needed to process what I'd read before moving on.

A Happy Marraige is an autobiographical novel which reflects on the relationship between Ygelesias and his deceased wife Margaret. The novel unfolds by bouncing between the end of Margaret's struggle with cancer and of important points in their marriage, with a special focus on the first few days of their relationship with each other. I haven't read any of Ygelesias's prior novels (I have read the work of Matthew Ygelsias, his son). I wasn't sure what to expect from an autobiographical novel. It was unexpectedly raw, cutting, and unforgettable.

Margaret dies a modern death: full of tubes and medicine and sustained by a nutritious gruel which is pumped into her body. There are doctors and high-risk, experimental treatments but, cancer inexorably wins. The scary truth is that this is the type of death that likely awaits many of us. Such treatments both offer hope of a cure while also slowly grinding away at any aspect of life that is natural or enjoyable. The struggles between Margaret, Enrique (the persona of Ygelsias), and her doctors is quit compelling and reveals a great deal about their nature. Consider this interaction between her and her main oncologist in the hospital:

Margaret had fixed herself up for this audition. She had worked meticulously on her wig to make its replica of her short black hairdo seem as natural as possible, and she had pot on a pretty green floral skirt. She wore a white silk T-shirt smooth to her torso except for the bumps of the three access ports to the catheter installed above her right breast for TPN feedings and other intravenous medications. Her white teeth, bonded over twenty years ago into pretty and seamless proportions, shined a bold and cheerful smile at the Iraqi's stern countenance. "Because I was just being used as a guinea pig," she answered.

"So?" he scolded. "You have metastatic cancer. You're incurable. Your only chance to survive is to be a guinea pig."

"I don't mind being a guinea pig," she shot right back at him, aloft on an examination table, rocking her slim, pretty legs, like a girl on a swing, teasing the boys. "I mind being a guinea pig in a failed experiment."

"What do you mean--a failed experiment?" he said, pronouncing the phrase as if it were contemptible and possibly not English. "How could you know--?"

The story of the beginning of their relationship is absolutely convincing. Which is good, since it is a true story. Enrique's excited awkwardness coupled with his immediate recognition of his love for Margaret captures the tense and hopeful feelings at the start of any relationship. The reader knows how both stories will end: the get married, spend 30 years together, and then Margaret dies of cancer. This knowledge makes the many little suspenses achieved by the story more remarkable.

Through these two ends of a relationships, Ygelsias explores what it truly means to know a person, and to what extent you ever truly can. Ygelsias's depiction of his own happy marriage is heartbreaking, inspiring, disappointing, and real. It is has a powerful emotional punch and is filled with passages that must be digested slowly. I highly recommend this novel.

Review: The Voyage Out

The Voyage Out is the first novel Virginia Woolf published. It appeared in 1915 and is strikingly different from a Victorian novel. Much has been written about Woolf’s place in 20th century literature, but I was largely ignorant since this is the first of Woolf’s novels I’ve read.

There are three things I’d like to note about this novel: the characters’ inner dialogues, the depictions of femininity, and the ending. If you have not read this novel consider closing your browser and picking up the book before reading on.

The plot focuses on the emotional and intellectual development (I’m tempted to write ‘coming of age’) of Rachel Vinrace. The main tensions involve Rachel, her aunt Helen Ambrose, and two men they meet in South America, Terrence Hewet and St. John Hirst. Apparently, plot is more important in this novel than in Woolf’s later works. Still, to a large extent, the reader gets into the head of the characters. Woolf deals with emotion and motivation and inner voice in a strikingly modern way. It is difficult to overstate the contrast with 19th century novels. The characters seem human: complex, contradictory, and often unsure of themselves. The novel says something about the nature of emotion and desire and the need to feel something that is both difficult for me to articulate and hard to stop considering.

The story is basically about the relationships Rachel has with her friends, family, and potential suitors. But it is more than that makes it sound. The limitations and opportunities available to women, and the changing social and intellectual boundaries of women are confronted in a direct way. At times, it is clear that Woolf’s own thoughts are directly expressed by the characters. Consider this passage, which could not have appeared in a novel published 30 years earlier:

‘I’ve often walked along the streets where people live all in a row, and one house is exactly like another house, and wondered what on earth the woman were doing inside,’ he said. ‘Just consider: it’s the beginning of the twentieth century, and until a few years ago no woman had ever come out by herself and said things at all. There it was going on in the background, for all those thousands of years, this curious silent unrepresented life. Of course we’re always writing about women—abusing them, or jeering at them, or worshipping them; but it’s never come from women themselves. I believe we still don’t know in the least how they live, or what they feel, or what they do precisely. If one’s a man, the only confidences one gets are from young women about their love affairs. But the lives of women of forty, of unmarried women, of working women, of women who keep shops and bring up children, of women like your aunts or Mrs. Thornbury or Miss Allan—one knows nothing whatever about them. They won’t tell you. Either they’re afraid, or they’ve got a way of treating men. It’s the man’s view that’s represented, you see. Think of a railway train: fifteen carriages for men who want to smoke. Doesn’t it make your blood boil? If I were a woman I’d blow some one’s brains out. Don’t you laugh at us a great deal? Don’t you think it all a great humbug? You, I mean—how does it all strike you?’

All thoughts and actions of all of the female characters, particularly Helen, say something about the divergent ways women dealt with the reality of their situations.

The ending was surprising, but I think it is entirety appropriate. Rachel’s death puts a distinct hue on the rest of the novel—especially the discussions of love and happiness. A Dickens-like happily ever after ending simply would not do here. Rachel’s death is random, unexpected and totally disruptive. This seems real. How do Helen and Hewet deal with the aftermath? Life goes on for the living, but we can only imagine how they were changed by their experiences with Rachel. Similarly, how are we, the reader, changed by considering the possibilities and conclusions suggested by Woolf’s novel?

Review: Nicholas Nickleby

Nicholas Nickleby is the second novel by written by Charles Dickens that I have read. I don't have anything very profound to say about it--the novel is a 19th century melodrama. It is full of interesting characters (with interesting names, such as Wackford Squeers), and ends with surprsing revelations. Having now read several Victorian novels, it is striking how standard the whole loss of identity/stolen name plot point is.

The basic plot of novel follows the adventures of Mr. Nicholas Nickleby as he works to support his sister and mother following the untimely death of his father. His greedy and nearly heartless uncle, Mr. Ralph Nickleby, does his best to make Nicholas and his family as miserable as possible. Kate is a basic picture of moral and aesthetic perfection. Mrs. Nickleby is the comic relief--she enjoys hearing herself talk and often launches off on monologues of a preposterous nature.

Although enjoyable in a episodic manner, this novel was not a particularly engaging or edifying read.

Some kind of update

Lots to catch up on. Here are some pithy judgments on (selected) experiences from the past few months.

Film
Moon Wonderful science fiction movie. Go see it.
(500) Days of Summer Not worthwhile.
State of Play As expected, more or less
The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 Ok
Up The beginning sequences are emotionally wrenching. Go see it.
Coraline Ok, not as great as I hoped
Star Trek XI My thoughts on time travel are already established. Nonetheless, an enjoyable film. I await the next one.
Duplicity Entertaining action/comedy send up


New York Trip
Just thinking about the 36 hours I spent in New York City brings a smile to my face.

Wicked Amazing
Billy Elliott Indescribably awe inspiring
Chicago As expected, but fun to see on stage
The Museum of Modern Art Overwhelming. There was also a special exhibit on the history of color photography which was perfectly geared for my level of knowledge and interests
The Pod Hotel Highly recommended


Additional Theater

Sunday in the Park with George. It was ok, but I don't go to the theater to see CGI.
Maria/Stuart by Jason Grote at Theatre Schmeater It was good.


Ballet

I am somewhat surprised to find that I am now a fan of the ballet. I have been to the Pacific Northwest Ballet three times. Thus far, my enjoyment has been monotonically increasing.

Broadway Festival My first ballet featuring Slaughter on Tenth Avenue, Carosel (A Dance), Take Five...More or Less, and West Side Story Suite. Carosel was my favorite
Kent Stowell's Swan Lake My first exposure to the dance classic.
Directors Choice: Dances at a Gathering, After The Rain pas de deux and Symphony in C The pas de deux was breathtaking.

Books
God is Back Interesting and thought-provoking
The Secular Conscience Meh
Daniel Deronda The first half was great. The second half was not.

Review: Consider the Lobster

My obsession with the writing of David Foster Wallace continues. Consider the Lobster is the second collection of Wallaces's non-fiction essays. Before getting into the specifics of this collection, I think is worthwhile to elaborate on why I am so enthralled with Wallace.

First, of course, is his distinctive style. The foot notes and asides and information dumps appeal to me. They are like hyperlinks on a page (see below). When reading online, I often take trips through Google and Wikipedia to go into more detail on specific topics. Wallace's foot notes often serve a similar purpose. But, rather than a motley collection of disparate sources, the foot notes all have the same distinct tone and quality. In addition to info-dumps, Wallace's asides often highlight his own opinions. The conceits of the author are explicitly displayed--a tactic that allows Wallace to advance his own stances without having to subjugate himself at the altar of impartiality. Of course, in some ways this could be viewed as a subtle but highly effective rhetorical trick. By setting off his own opinions in flashing lights, the underlying biases in the rest of the work may go by unnoticed.

Second, Wallace is an elitist in the best sense of the term. He deems it worthwhile to think about difficult and uncomfortable subjects. He sees value in information and understanding. His essays are bursting with facts (thus the need for the footnotes to squeeze it all in). Wallace' s best essays involve him going off to learn about a topic or gain some experience, and then reporting back on the meaning of the events. Such reporting deals with meaning on multiple different levels, seemingly without worry about losing the reader in a see of details. He trusts and respects the reader. Things are not dumbed down. Like the real world, they are complicated, contextualized, and often slippery.

Of course, Wallace is able to accomplish all of this largely because of the sheer power of his command of language. He successfully adopts a conversational tone while dealing with complex and esoteric topics. I see myself trying emulate this style, however poorly, in my own technical and expository writing.

I've read several criticisms of Wallace's essays (just google some of the titles below and many will pop up). It can be argued that in some cases Wallace uses his writing skills to mask the fact that he subtly takes sides in contentious topics. Although his breadth of research is astounding, Wallace is not a real expert in many of the topics he writes about. No doubt, he gets some things wrong in a range of important and unimportant ways. Such is the burden of this type of writing, and that is a fair and valid criticism to make. But, much of the time at least, it (the sacrifice of complete and expert nuance and fact for a well presented and informative summary) is a trade I'm willing to make.

This collection includes 10 essays of various length and topic:

Big Red Son In this essay Wallace recounts his experiences at the 1998 Adult Video News awards. The AVN awards are basically the Oscars for pornography. Few do grotesquery as well as Wallace. He's willing to plumb the depths to reveal the root causes of depravity, causes that often have to do with something that may be deep in our own psyches. This essay is now a decade old, and one of the striking things is how the industry was completely unaware of the future explosion in armature pornography. As Tom Johansmeyer reports in The Atlantic, the fact that websites now give it up for free is a huge threat to the commercial viability of the industry. As in other fields, the problem is now how to successfully make money through the internet. Apple did it for music. Newspapers have yet to figure it out. Big Red Son, of course, does not deal with any of these issues, but it is interesting how things have changed in totally unanticipated ways. (NB: it was extremely tempting to drive up hits by including links to all sort of NSFW and adult websites in this review. I think that I'm proud of myself for resisting that urge).

Certainly the End of Something or Other, One Would Sort of Have to Think (Re John Updike's Toward the End of Time) is Wallace's review of a John Updike novel. But, really, it serves as an excuse for Wallace to opine on the "Great Male Narcissists" who he feels have dominated American fiction writing. This piece is a worthy companion to the reviews that have come out since Updike's death. I have not really read any Updike. This is something that makes me feel like a shallow, unread impostor.

Some Remarks on Kafka's Funniness From Which Probably Not Enough Has Been Removed This short essay is the text of a speech Wallace gave on reading and teaching Kafka. The main point is that the beauty of Kafka's writing lies in its humor, but that the best way of ruining a joke is to explain it. Thus, how it is unclear how to successfully teach Kafka, particularly to a collection of undergraduate students dealing with their own set of philosophical crises.

Authority and American Usage (or: "Politics and the English Language is Redundant") Wallace uses writing a review A Dictionary of Modern American Usage, by Bryan A. Garner, as a spring board for explaining the importance of of Standard Written English in society and summarizing the struggles between the descriptive and proscriptive schools of linguistics. This is my favorite essay in the book. It includes an even handed take down of Political Correctness as well as a nuanced discussion of the role of language in society. The essay, which is 60+ pages, is funny and enlightening and provocative in all kinds of ways that are difficult to summarize. You should read it.

The View From Mrs. Thompson's In this essay, Wallace recounts his experiences during 11-13 September 2001. At the time, Wallace was living in Bloomington, Illinois. It includes a self-awareness about his Midwestern roots that this slightly over-educated person from the Midwest finds provocative.

How Tracy Austin Broke My Heart. Tracy Austin was a star tennis player. Wallace found her autobiography deeply disappointing.

Up, Simba. Seven Days on the Trail of an Anticandidate. This essay, originally published in Rolling Stone, recounts Wallace's experiences as a reporter for a week during John McCain's 2000 presidential primary campaign. By chance, Wallace was on the trail during the critical week leading up to the South Carolina primary. I'm a fairly well informed follower of politics, but Wallace's reporting offered a fresh take on the dynamics of a campaign. Also, his unraveling of the role of negative campaigning and cynicism in politics is brilliant. The portrayal takes on a new meaning because of McCain's recent 2008 campaign. Any curious observer of the American political system would be well served by reading this account. It is striking how, in hind sight, Obama successfully pulled off many of the rhetorical and positional appeals that McCain tried to adopt back in 2000.

Consider the Lobster Wallace visits the 2003 Main Lobster Festival. This article was written for Gourmet magazine, and the striking thing is how Wallace presents concerns about the suffering of lobsters to that readership.

Joseph Frank's Dostoevsky presents Wallace's review of Joseph Frank's multi-volume study of Dostoevsky. Frank's writing, and Wallace's review, focus on the relationship between the ideas and themes of Dostoevsky's writing and the times and culture in which he lived. Many interesting aspects of Dostoevsky's personal life are revealed. Running throughout the review is the notion that Serious Writing of today cannot deal with Important Topics in a direct, non-ironic fashion. This is a position that animates much of Wallace's views on literature. Interspersed throughout the essay are short segments of a monologue trying to seriously deal with notions of meaning and existence. The fact that these segments seem so out of place proves Wallace's point that modern readers are simply not used to dealing with such topics head on.

Host This essay relates Wallace's observations of talk radio host John Ziegler. It attempts to explain the popularity of right-wing talk radio, while explaining the business aspects of the medium. And make no mistake, talk radio is a business. It also deals with all sorts of important topics like the meaning of "information" and "entertainment" and "objective." Talk radio is not changing or going away any time soon. This essay offers a nuanced peak behind the curtain into the personalities, calculations, and economic realities that drive this mode of communication.


Re: hypertext. I should note that this comparison is one Wallace would likely reject. This point comes from D. T. Max's recent portrayal of Wallace in the New Yorker. Having never read any of Wallace's fiction, I'm struck by how he could think that his nonficiton (which is so brilliant) is easy and without depth.

Review: The Way We Live Now

I did not enjoy The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope. Don't get me wrong--I read the whole thing, enjoy discussing it with my friends, and was curious to see how things turned out for some of the main characters. My disappointment is deeper and more substantial. I don't think that Trollope understands how the economy of the 1870s works. As a result, the book is shallow and opaque where it should be insightful and illuminating. I hope that this novel would be newly relevant in our troubled economic times. I was disappointed.

The action of the novel revolves around Augustus Melmotte, a foreign and social-climbing financier. He gets involved in floating stock in a trans-Mexican railway, tried to marry off his daughter to a titled Englishman, and generally runs all sorts of financial games. This is all well and good, but Trollope never gives us the details on exactly how these financial dealings go down. There is no discussion of the London stock market, of how banking and loans and credit worked, of the rules of the system could be bended or utilized and broken for gain. There are some hints, but no details. The inclusion of these wonkish details would have resulted in a much stronger novel.

I think that Trollope did not really know these details. Also, he did not really care. The title refers not to the complex workings of a financial system that allows a select few to reap imense profits from a speculative bubble and play lose with the rules for mortgaging property to further increase their position. This is a Victorian novel--the title refers to the social rules of the time, and the changing way people act towards money and relationships.

Even in terms of relationships and action the novel falls flat. Surprisingly, Trollope throws out major plot points seemingly at random. Instead of showing us an action as it happens, Trollope seemingly invents past events as needed. Events crucial to the plot (such as the supposed forgery) are referenced after the fact, instead of being included in the narrative while they were occurring. I don't know if this is poor style or if Trollope was just making it up as he went along. But it is not Good Writing.

Like many novels from the time, The Way We Live Now offers some interesting insights into the societal and mental norms of the time. The depiction of Americans is interesting. As are the conflicting feelings about Romantic Love vs a purely transactional marriage expressed by several of the characters. Sir Felix was annoying, but the indulged frat-boy type is not a character we usually hear about in Victorian times. Much can be written about these ideas, but such thoughts are not novel to Trollope, nor are they particularly well illustrated. The relevant thing for today's readers is the depiction of finance and the effects of speculation in 1870s England.

Maybe I have been reading too much about credit default swaps, collateralized debt obligations, leveraged investments, balance sheets, massive bonuses, socialized risk with privatized profits, and the politics of the bailout. Still, a novel about the social consequences of our most recent economic bubble and resulting destabilization would have to engage with these concepts in a realistic and meaningful way--both to be realistic, and to provide future readers a rooted sense of time and place and circumstance.

I am not demanding that novelists be technocrats, just that they be conversant in the underlying basis about which they write. I contend that a fully fleshed out structural picture would add depth and realism to the societal, moral, and emotional intricacies of the underlying story the writer is attempting to tell. Trollope's failure to do this is the main reason I did not like this novel.

Review: The Year of Living Biblically

The Year of Living Biblically by A. J. Jacobs is exactly what it claims to be. I mean this statement in a way that goes beyond the simple aptness of the title. Say what you will about the merits of the project, but this is an excellent proposal for a book, and it is aptly executed by Jacobs. The seemingly simple concept is stretched for over 300 pages. After the first chapter or so, the reader pretty much gets the idea--but the book does remain interesting and entertaining for its entirety.

This journal of Jacobs's experiences and thoughts are relayed in a blog-like format. Each chapter, which corresponds to a month, consists of multiple sections ("posts"), corresponding to the events and reactions of the day. To ensure a complete experience, Jacobs will often set himself specific rules or behaviors to focus on for a set time. I was a big fan of the Blogging the Bible sereis by David Plotz, but there were several aspects of Old Testament law I was completely unaware (for example: I'd somehow managed to remain unaware of both shofar blowing and various bird egg rituals). Jacobs frequency admits his obsessions with his Amazon.com rankings, and the placement of his previous book at airport stores. There is very clearly defined target audience for this work. Jacobs consistently hits the target dead center, leading to the unsurprising popular success of the novel.

I feel a little odd about this. It is generally advisable to review the book you actually read, not the book you wish the author had written. And like I mentioned, Jacobs succeeded in writing an interesting and readable book. But it is clearly aimed at the airplane-reading/book-of-the-month level. But I am an inherently selfish reader, and this book often was not what I wanted it to be. Whenever there is the opportunity to expand in some detail on the historical basis or philosophical implications of some topic, Jacobs consistently demurs. Instead, a witty declaration is offered, and the narrative amiably advances onward. Two examples stand out, but there are many others.

First, the notion of the relationship between the first commandment and strict monotheism. Part of the goal of the project is for Jacobs to "get into the head" of the ancient Israelites. Here is the entire discussion of how many gods there really are (pg 183 of the paperback, Day 154):

Even more exasperating: If I do get to the bedrock, it may be such a strange bedrock that I won't be able to process it. In Karen Armstrong's terrific book A History of God, she says that the ancient Israelites weren't really monotheists. They believed in the existence of many Gods. Hence, the command "You shall have no other Gods before me." It doesn't say "You shall have no other Gods at all."

Could I ever hope to get into the skull of an ancient Israelite who beleved in several gods? Do I want to?

End chapter. End thought. That's as deep as we go on this point.

A second example: just who are the Samaritans and what is their religion? Pg 219 (Day 204):

On the cab ride back to the hotel, my mind keeps coming back to the Samaritan Bible. So similar, but so different, too. What if history had taken a left turn? What if the Samaritan Torah had become the standard, and millions of Semitic faithful flooded to Mount Gerizim every year to sacrifice lams, except for a few hundred people called hte Jews, who worshiped at an obscure site known as the Western Wall?

On these points Jacobs does offer some more details in a the appendix. But I would have preferred some more elaboration on the importance of historical contingency in what we now think of as the sacred. That seems like a relevant discussion if one wants to really get a grasp on religion and society.

I would have enjoyed a more fleshed out discussion of points such as these. But, then, those are the types of issues I'd find myself grappling with in such a project. Perhaps Jacobs simply had different concerns. Or, maybe he simply (and probably correctly), had a keener sense for what the audience really wanted.

Review: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again

I'm on a serious David Foster Wallace binge. I want to read some of his fiction next, but his essays are just so good. His style and point of view compliment each other so well. I easily relate to Wallace's over-educated self reflection, matter of fact insight, and honesty about his own worse impulses.

ASFTINDA is a collection of essays and arguments originally published in various magazines in the early/mid 1990s. The essays are longish, but each fully develops an idea in a way that makes you appreciate the depth of engagement that is lacking from shorter pieces. The seven essays are:

Derivative Sport in Tornado Alley Here, Wallace recounts his childhood experiences playing tennis in the rural midwest.

E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction In this essay, Wallace gives forth his opinion of the impact of TV on serious fiction writing. This is the most difficult essay in the collection. Wallace's argument builds up about irony, and how the use/conditioning of irony on TV colors what is possible in fiction writing. Wallace sums up his thesis succinctly (pg 49, in a section appropriately titled "I do have a thesis"):

I want to persuade you that irony, poker-faced silence, and fear of ridicule are distinctive of those features of contemporary U.S. cultuer (of which cutting-edge fiction is a part) that enjoy any significant relation to the television whose weird pretty hand has my generation by the throat. I'm going to argue that irony and ridicule are entertaining and effective, and that at the tame time they are agents of a great despair and stasis in U.S. culture, and that for aspiring fiction writers they pose especially terrible problems.

As someone who got rid of my own TV over a year ago, I am not sure how relate to this essay (which as written in 1990). I think that Wallace's basic point holds, but the rise of internet culture, and the popular satire of shows such as the Daily Show seem to have raised the stakes.

Getting Away from Already Being Pretty Much Away from It All This piece recounts Wallace's experiences at the 1993 Illinois State Fair. Wonderful for anyone who has ever attended and reflected upon the such events. I have no idea how a person who has never attended such a fair would react to this essay.

Greatly Exaggerated This short essay (just 8 pages) offers some thoughts on various schools of literary criticism and the nature of the Author. As a person who is not really conversant in this language I found it surprisingly approachable.

David Lynch Keeps His Head Here, Wallace visits the set of Lost Highway, and offers insight and commentary on the movie business and the nature of director David Lynch.

Tennis Player Michael Joyce's Professional Artistry as a Paradigm of Certain Stuff about Choice, Freedom, Discipline, Joy, Grotesquerie, and Human Completeness The tittle pretty much says it all.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again The final piece is Wallace's reflections on and about a 7 night Caribbean Cruise. One could seriously argue that this is the Platonic Ideal of what nonfiction writing should achieve. Read it.

After devouring this collection of essays I'm left with three overwhelming feelings: (1) intrigue and curiosity about some of the ideas and interpretations Wallace argues for, (2) great appreciation for the quality and style of his writing, (3) a very real sense of loss that Wallace will never again go off on same strange or ordinary trip and use it as a vehicle for his amazing writing and insight.

Review: Everything and More

Everything and More: A Compact History of ∞ is the first (and thus far only) book by David Foster Wallace I have read. I thought that book was great. I loved the writing style, and the level of mathematical detail fit my background rather well. The book (or booklet, as Wallace insists) traces the development of maths treatment of infinity throughout western history. It includes metaphyscial/philosophical discussions (starting with the Greeks, of course). It focuses on math rather than on the biography of any individual. Importantly, it provides motivation for how particular ideas in math developed, and the intellectual context in which well known advances occurred. The first half or so of the book (say, up through Newton and Leibniz and the development of calculus) is more lucid than the second part. But, this is a consequence both of the relatively lower level of abstraction of the material, my own familiarity with these concepts and Wallace's ability to more successfully impose a grand narrative onto the events. Any one who has spent time pondering Zeon's Paradoxes should definitly give this book a shot.

Wallace's style is quit distinct. It is slyly informal, with the author's voice directly addressing the reader. It is also interrupted by a multitude of parentheticals and foot notes--devices which Wallace uses masterfully to inform and entertain. I can see how some would find this style jarring and difficult to get through. I can also see how the books level of detail could be overwhelming. Wallace claims that all that is required is some basic college level math background, but I think it is best targeted to a slightly higher level reader.

Some reviews for technical audiences focused on a number of errors Wallace makes in his presentation. I am uncertain how much this detracts--after all, this isn't my field, so I am very much an interested layman (and thus the target audience). I found it to be an amazing, literary depiction of important and abstract ideas--the type of communication that I'd love to read more of.

I agree with this review by Chad Orzel (the excerpt he gives pretty much sums up the writing style. If you can't handle that, then don't bother with the book, but if you are intrigued by this style and interested in how some of the most difficult problems and paradoxes dating back to the Greeks are handled, then give the book a read).

Writing Contest: In the beginning...

The Book Bench blog at The New Yorker tipped me off to the first paragraph contest launched by literary agent Nathan Bransford of Curtis Brown Ltd. Entries to the contest were first paragraphs from novels in progress. The six finalists were announced here, and the winner chosen here.

Scanning through the many submissions I noticed a common thread: the overuse of adjectives. Maybe this comes about because we are all told to "paint a picture with words." But, good writing seems to build up this picture in an unobtrusive way--the reader comes to know the characters and the setting, almost without realizing it. In less good writing the brush strokes leave a trail across the image that can be seen a few steps away.

Based on the submissions Bransford defined three broad categories of common openings which I'll summarize alliteratively:

1. Surprsing Sentence followed by pedestrian prose
2. Delebriate Description followed by shocking statement
3. Purposefull Protagonist ignores wicked weather and propels plot

My main lesson from this contest: good writing (like good anything) is hard.

Review: Alpha, Omega

Alpha, Omega is a novel written by Lori Stephens and self-published via BookSurge. The novel revolves around a quasi-religious cult and the mysterious power of its holy book, the Librah Vae-ta.

Spoiler Alert!


The story is an engaging enough action/adventure: mysteries are solved, people are hurt, people fall in love, relationships are broken but ultimately everything is happily resolved, etc. While reading (I read most of the novel over dinners at a nearby bar/restaurant) I found myself wondering how things would end (clearly a critical requirement for any suspenseful yarn), but was bothered by some basic aspects of the plot. Let's accept that language can set up some kind of neural resonance and impact people as depicted. And that taking random words/characters from an assortment of languages can have some discernible meaning. But, how does this work in only one direction? How can people (such as Gatsby) speak words that cause this reaction in others without experiencing the effects themselves while they are speaking?

Also, it is unclear to me what the organization really wants/desires? Total control of the world? Power and Money? Omega comes across as a somewhat empty vessel of malevolent evil, without any real motivation. Their motiviation is unclear. Just how old are they? The same sense of incompleteness applies to Woodie Sanderson and his mysterious journey to find himself in religion. What's up with him? No deep insight is related to the reader from his years of soul searching. Just some weird stalker-emails and a My Heart Will Go On style reunion (Kama). Mechanically, he was useful for the fancy brain monitoring seen, but the character seemed under developed.

The novel also lacks a sense of place. The action unfolds in London, but other than references to the tube and to lifts, I did not get a sense of the city. Why London instead of elsewhere? I believe that Stephens is from the Seattle area--why not set the story in that city so that it could be more easily anchored into a fleshed out setting?

At times the writing seemed a bit clunky. Some passages gave a sense of: I'm standing over here, and I need to be over there, so let me just walk slowly across and look, there I am. This is in contrast to times when the events of the story appear to naturally follow from the set up, without any forceful writing to propel things along.

Since my pedantic side is on full display, I'll mention that I found the use of exclamation points to be a little wearing. For example, the first sentence of the book is:

The fate of my soul!!

Is that second exclamation point really necessary? There are some additional minor textual/low level things that bothered me while reading.

As I said up top though, I found the actual story to be engaging, but feel the novel would benefit from greater depth and character development. But then again, I think this was intended to be a quick read thriller, and my choices for fiction tend to go more toward the engrossing, expansive, all encompassing style.

Review: Our Mutual Friend

Charles Dickens is funny!

Our Mutual Friend was the first of his books I've read, and I was surprised by the level of humor which colors his social commentary: Podsnappery, the Lammle's marriage, Jenny Wren turning around the doll. Why didn't anyone ever tell me how humorous Dickens's writing is?

Our Mutual Friend, the last novel he finished, appears to be rather unknown. The main plot focuses on a the fate of a large inheritance whose heir is murdered. The real joy comes from the many side stories and characters that get weaved together into the main plot.

The ending seems forced--there is a twist that I found to be unbelievable and inconsistent with the previous depictions of some of the characters. Also, the way Bella reacts to things at the end didn't seem true to me.

If you've never read any Dickens (or, even if you have), I highly recommend this as a place to start.