The Secret History, by Donna Tartt

The Secret History
Donna Tartt

You know what's annoying? You read the blurb on back of a novel, and yet, unbeknownst to you...it's not quite accurate. So you spend the entire book not really focusing on the book itself, but rather wondering when the information found in the blurb will come into play. Such was my experience reading Donna Tartt's Secret History. Allow me to repeat it here, if you don't mind:

Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality they slip gradually from obsession to corruption and betrayal, and at last--inexorably--into evil.

So, okay. Now, I won't spoil anything for the would-be reader, but not all of the above information is accurate. Yes, there is a charismatic classics professor. There is even a group of eccentric misfits. New England college? Check. And I might be arguing over semantics, but the rest of the blurb leaves a lot to be desired.

That isn't to say that I didn't enjoy The Secret History, for I did. True, it was a bit long-winded in places, and I was expecting (goaded on by the blurb on the back, no doubt) an ending that was a bit more..."diabolical," I suppose you could say. Overall, however, I found the book to be engrossing and enjoyable. The book is filled with literary allusions that any literature fan can appreciate, and the plot is quite suspenseful, especially as you anticipate how the "evil" will finally be resolved.

Besides, take a look at Ms. Tartt. She looks like she will fuck a bitch up (and I chose one of her more flattering pictures). So in the interest of pacifism, the book was excellent.

In a nutshell: Suspenseful and entertaining, The Secret History was a fun read but was not quite what I was led to expect.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time
Mark Haddon

Fifteen-year-old Christopher Boone has discovered his neighbor's dog has been killed with a garden fork. Who on earth would kill a dog? With a pitchfork? Who even has a pitchfork these days? In the suburbs, no less? A pitchfork?

Anyway, Christopher isn't interested in the mystery of pitchfork--he wants to know who murdered the dog. And you can't blame him, really; I suppose the pitchfork isn't that important. So, after initially being blamed for the murder, he sets out to begin his own investigation to find the culprit. This wouldn't seem too extraordinary, except that Christopher is autistic; he does not understand complex emotions, cannot stand strangers, and takes to groaning and when feeling uncomfortable (which is often). How on earth will he be able to overcome these limitations to solve the mystery at hand?

Have no fear. Christopher overcomes these obstacles (sometimes gracefully, sometimes not so much), and he undertakes his investigation with a fortitude that should inspire any reader. Unfortunately, this is where the book's negative aspects appear. At times the book veers dangerously into sentimentality, and Haddon only just barely avoids becoming gimmicky in places (although others may argue that the entire book is gimmicky). I, however, like the novel's perspective, which is littered with Christopher's digressions on math and logic, his specialties.

Overall, I enjoyed The Curious Incident. It was a fast, touching read that allowed one into the mind of an autistic individual. While the novel has its flaws (the overly sentimental ending is a big one), they do not diminish the work.

In a nutshell: A fast, fun novel that will make you think, even though it is probably not something you will return to again and again (if ever).

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

Orlando, by Virginia Woolf

Orlando
Virginia Woolf

Ah, Ginny. You're just too smart for me. I suspected as much after toiling through Mrs. Dalloway. Orlando, though a million times more entertaining (and easier to understand), has only confirmed my suspicions. Overall, Orlando is quite interesting (and quite hilarious in places), except that certain parts made me feel woefully inadequate.

To recapitulate briefly, Orlando is one lucky individual who gets to experience it all. His "biography" begins with his youth in Elizabethan England and ends three centuries later with his adulthood--as a woman. This scenario allows Woolf to grapple with gender roles, societal expectations, and the nature of reality.

While I enjoyed Orlando, I simply have no idea what to say about it. I have no idea even what to rate it. Should I rate it based on its genius (and Woolf is one who deserves the term, to continue an idea from my previous post) or my enjoyment of it? Argh.

In a nutshell: Way more fun than Mrs Dalloway, and easier to comprehend. Pretty hilarious, too. Just be prepared for a difficult final chapter.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 for genius and 4 for enjoyment...so 5

The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards

The Memory Keeper's Daughter
Kim Edwards

In case you haven't heard of this book, authors like Sue Monk Kidd and Jodi Picoult have praised The Memory Keeper's Daughter for being just breathtaking. A masterpiece. Genius. (Sidenote: it really irks me how often the term "genius" is applied from everyone to Lindsay Lohan to a mediocre writer. Einstein was a genius, people. Beethoven. Not some second-rate director who brought us a barely watchable film. Ok. Sorry.)

But it seems that ass-kissing, which is all the rage in Hollywood, has found its way to the world of books as well. I shouldn't be surprised. I'm sure it's always been this way. But when I've been duped by it, I get angry.

A brief overview of the maddening plot: It's the 1960s. There's a snowstorm. A doctor's wife goes into labor. Alone, with only a nurse to aid him, he must perform the delivery.

Surprise! It's twins.

Crap. One has Down's Syndrome.

So he tells the nurse to take the "bad" baby to an institution WHILE TELLING HIS WIFE SHE DIED. I, although not a violent person, would stab my husband if he were to do this to me. Thus begins the rather predictable soap opera that is The Memory Keeper's Daughter. Without the stabbing, of course.

The Memory Keeper's Daughter isn't the worst thing I've ever read, but it was far from the best. The prose is simplistic (and filled with a number of grammatical errors), the plot predictable, and the style emblematic of the soullessness that only a certain creative-writing program can give. (And I'm not knocking MFAs, but it seems that a lot of writers who come from certain programs all seem to write in the same, dead way, as though they are automatons practicing good writing from the same, overused handout used for the tenth year in a row by the same, tired teacher who'd rather not be teaching these pretentious students. And, if The Memory Keeper's Daughter is any indication, what they are not doing in these classes is practicing the proper use of commas.)

I know I am generalizing. I'm feeling bitter.

So, if you're looking for a fast read that isn't terribly interesting, this is the book for you.

In a nutshell: The Memory Keeper's Daughter is predictable in many places. The writing style is not "genius." But it does help you realize that commas are our friends.

Bibliolatry Scale: 1.5 out of 6 stars

Hannibal Rising, by Thomas Harris

Hannibal Rising
Thomas Harris

If you are a fan of Hannibal Lecter, you might not want to read Hannibal Rising. Sometimes things are better left alone, for mystery's sake.

Hannibal Rising describes Hannibal Lecter's childhood and the events that make him the crazy killer that we all know and love. As a big fan of the other books in the series, I didn't even hesitate before pre-ordering a copy. When it finally arrived, I tore through it in a day, but at about 300 pages, it isn't very long, especially considering the font is rather large and after most chapters a blank page is inserted.

I enjoyed it at first, but I soon realized the problem with Hannibal Rising: its existence. Lecter's ability to scare the public comes in part from the fact that he simply is. Explaining the birth of the monster violates the a major rule of creating fear in the audience: don't give away too much; let the audience scare itself.

To me, it is truly more frightening to imagine that Lecter simply is. If he exists, simply a freak of nature, then other freaks will exist as well. However, as we find out very early in the book (so I'm not spoiling anything here), Lecter's evil is a direct result of the horrors of WWII.

Give me a break.

I'm certainly not belittling the horrors of war. But it's a rather mundane thing to have created an evil as great as Hannibal Lecter. C'mon! This is HANNIBAL LECTER. He is legend. He deserves something better than this. I suppose the problem is that no suffering would be too great to justify the deeds Lecter later performs.

And furthermore, Lecter only kills really shitty people in Hannibal Rising. Every single one deserves it! Instead of a cold-blooded killer who enjoys taking life, the young Lecter does so out of revenge, to purge the world of people who contribute nothing and who only take and hurt others. He is a vigilante, out to right the wrongs of his past. No one dies unnecessarily.

HUH???

What happened to killing a violinist because he played off-key??? The man who bit the face off another man for no reason?? Harris gives a glimpse into the birth of something in Hannibal Rises, but it isn't the Hannibal Lecter we have come to know.

In a nutshell: Harris has created an interesting story, for anyone other than Hannibal Lecter. Unfortunately, in this novel, Lecter doesn't live up to the legend that has already been created for him.

Bibliolatry Scale: 2 out of 6 stars

The Valley of the Dolls, by Jacqueline Susann

The Valley of the Dolls
Jacqueline Susann

Ah, celebrities. They have it SO HARD. They have to look glamorous, make tons of money, and be known all over the world. Thank God for dolls, pills in all shapes and colors. They ease the pain, you know?

Actually, the "dolls" part got old real friggin fast. It was cute for, oh, a second. They are pills, people. Stop calling them dolls for crying out loud. In fact, the writing style in general bothered me. It was quite dated. Geez! Enough already!

Valley of the Dolls, in case you are the other person on the planet who hasn't heard of it, is about three women's rise to fame, and the havoc this fame causes. Can't you feel the pain? It's hard to be beautiful, dammit.

I'm not being entirely fair here. I'm feeling a little bitter right now, so it's easy for me to bash people whose lives seem perfect on the exterior. Of course, I know it's easy to judge. Valley of the Dolls is a good reminder that fame rarely (if ever) equals happiness.

In a nutshell: Susann creates a great plot, but uses a dated, melodramatic writing style that hasn't stood the test of time very well. Nevertheless, Valley of the Dolls is a fun read.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

White Noise, by Don DeLillo

White Noise
Don DeLillo

I've heard a lot about White Noise. It won the National Book Award in 1985, but I've been hearing a lot about it over the past few months. Seeing as it's such an "important" book full of "postmodern" ideas about "media saturation in the modern age" I thought I might give it a try.

As you might have guessed by my numerous amount of air quotes (ok, air quotes only exist in conversation, but I feel that the above qualify because I say so), White Noise annoyed the shit out of me. "Waaahh," says DeLillo. "Media's everywhere. True silence doesn't exist anymore because of the ubiquity of technology. We are ruining the environment. Did I mention technology is everywhere? What about advertising? That's everywhere, too."

Why, thanks, Don. I hadn't noticed.

It didn't help that my interest in the book was sparked by viewing the movie White Noise, which you might have seen. Probably not -- it wasn't that good. It was quasi-scary, and involved dead people communicating through -- you guessed it -- THE MEDIA. Well, specifically, television. Oh, that damned, evil technology. Gets you every time. Well, that's about the only connection between the book and the movie. Not that I was bothered by a loose adaptation -- I fully expect a movie to royally mangle a novel; thus, I felt fairly assured of a good read, based on the movie being somewhat bearable and based on the fact that so many critics rave about it.

I was snookered.

First, it's so LONG. Why? There's no need. Jack Gladney is on his fourth? fifth? (somehow, it's never quite clear) wife. He and his wife Babette (which is uncomfortably close to Baboon) have a Brady-Bunch-esque combined family of, oh I don't know I'll take a guess here, five kids? It might be more. Near the end of the book ANOTHER child was introduced. I mean, really, Don? Must we go that route?

Anyway, Jack is a professor of Hitler studies at his college, and

No. You know what? I don't even care enough to finish the plot. He's afraid to die. Technology is everywhere. Nature is getting the shaft.

Bibliolatry Scale: 1 out of 6 stars

We Have Always Lived in the Castle, by Shirley Jackson

We Have Always Lived in the Castle
Shirley Jackson

Most everyone has read "The Lottery," Jackson's most famous work in which an unthinking mob follows an old tradition. She continues exploring mob mentality in We Have Always Lived in the Castle, what Jonathan Lethem calls "her masterpiece."

We Have Always Lived in the Castle has much the same feel as "The Lottery": a small-town setting that has all the appearance of total normalcy, except tinged with an ever-increasing sense of doom. However, where "The Lottery" is limited to its bizarre plot, We Have Always Lived in the Castle is driven more by its bizarre characters.

Merricat (Mary Katherine Blackwood) lives with her older sister, Constance, and their eccentric Uncle Julian. They are shunned by the rest of the community, for theirs is a home of a murderess, albeit an acquitted one. Six years before, Constance was accused of poisoning their family, leaving their family mostly dead and Uncle Julian, the only survivor, an invalid. Constance, although proven innocent by a court of law, has not been acquitted by the members of their community. As a result, Constance is a recluse, never leaving the large property that contains their home. Mary Katherine is the only one to leave the safety of her home, entering the town twice a week to buy groceries and other necessities. During these visits, she is mocked and ridiculed, taunted, and repelled.

So the small family of survivors lives alone in their house, until a cousin comes to visit. Needless to say, his visit upsets the pattern of days that they have established in the wake of the murders. What happens as a result is, needless to say, disturbing, but it's classic Jackson.

I am not sure, however, that I could agree with Lethem that We Have Always Lived in the Castle is Jackson's masterpiece. Certain elements were quite predictable, and I would have liked more explanation in terms of character motivation. Nevertheless, these are minor quibbles, and I found myself tearing through the book in one sitting, anxious to reach the end.

In a nutshell: A great, fast read that explores the bizarre world of some crazy people.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

For One More Day, by Mitch Albom

For One More Day
Mitch Albom

Perhaps it is the cloying way in which Albom so blatantly tugs at one's heartstrings. Perhaps it's the overly sentimental, soul-searching, uplifting "cumbaya" feel to his books. But whatever it is, there's something about this guy that I just can't like. Thankfully, I have some nice students, including one who lent me her copy of For One More Day; otherwise, I'd never actually pay to read it.

Charley "Chick" Benetto has a crappy life. He's a divorced alcoholic who is estranged from his daughter and hates his life. Feeling life isn't worth living, he decides to end it all, which, of course, leads to some life-affirming sentimentality from Mitch Albom. Chick, because of his actions, is able to spend "one more day" with his deceased mother. During this day, we learn about this mother-son relationship, and in the process are reminded to cherish our own important relationships and, of course, our very lives. Crazy! That's unlike any Mitch Albom book I've ever heard of! Hey--if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?

And yet, there is something that I liked about it. Well, more specifically, I didn't hate it. That's not to say it wasn't overly sentimental, utterly predictable, and not even that well written. But I was able to read it in a couple hours, and it was touching, and it reminded me to be nice to and spend time with the people who matter. It's nice to have such a reminder every once in awhile.

In a nutshell: If you've read one Albom book, you've pretty much read them all. Enjoy your life. Make time for those you love. Cherish every moment. Yadda yadda yadda. And yet, there's something enjoyable about it.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

Sinners Welcome, by Mary Karr

Sinners Welcome
Mary Karr

I'm usually not good at reviewing books of poetry, because unless I discuss a few poems in-depth (which I really don't have time for), there isn't much for me to say. Thus, this will be a short review, but at least it will be a postive one.

Mary Karr is another poet I admire. Her poetry is thought-provoking, yet not obscure to the point of confusion. Her latest book of poetry, Sinners Welcome, tackles some difficult subjects (mainly death and other forms of loss), yet the work doesn't come across as depressing or morbid.

In a nutshell: Some good, contemporary poetry that doesn't give cause for complaint. Not every poem is a perfect gem, but a few (like "Pathetic Fallacy" and "The Ice Fisherman") were absolutely wonderful.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Severance, by Robert Olen Butler

Severance
Robert Olen Butler

According to some researcher, the human head can retain consciousness for about a minute and a half after it is severed from its body. According to some other researcher, a person in an emotional state can speak about 160 words per minute. Put the two together and you have Severance, a collection of very short (160 words) stories narrated by the severed heads of some pretty famous people.

The premise is intriguing. What did Marie Antoinette think as her head fell to the earth? What about Anne Boleyn? What about John Martin, a boy decapitated by the subway in a freak accident in 1921? Intriguing, indeed.

Unfortunately, the stories don't always make sense to me. With the exception of those whose deaths came suddenly, many of the people being decapitated were prepared for it. Wouldn't, then, their final thoughts be something along the lines of OH MY GOD MY HEAD IS CUT OFF instead of "and I touched my father's hand, it was soft and my mother is so kind" or something else totally off-topic.

For example, I imagined my head was about to be severed from my body. Again, assuming I was prepared for such a stroke, I believe my final thoughts would go a little something like this:

Please don’t let this hurt please don’t let this hurt dear Jesus I can’t believe this is how I’m going to go please take care of me I’m so so so sorry for all the shitty stuff I’ve done, just please take pity on me and help me get through this but with my eyes closed shut tight how will I know when it’s actually happened? how will I know? will I be able to feel it? I’m so scared I really didn’t want my head to get cut off I hope that he’s gentle and that the blade is sharp oh god what if the blade isn’t sharp and they have to try a couple times oh dear Jesus I can’t believe this is happening to me I can’t even handle going to the dentist and now I’m getting my head cut off I have to think of something pleasant, ok cookies yes I like cookies they are nice

See? The point is, I wouldn't be thinking of having sex or anything at all other than the fact that I was about to get MY FRIGGIN HEAD CUT OFF.

And so, while I think a lot of his "stories" are quite lovely and poetic, the majority of them seem to be just a bit silly. There were a few real gems (Anne Boleyn's was quite beautiful, for example) but some seemed overly obscure and stuffy.

In a nutshell: An interesting premise but not for the ages.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

The Bridge of San Luis Rey, by Thornton Wilder

The Bridge of San Luis Rey
Thornton Wilder

In Peru, a bridge collapses. Five people are killed. Tragedies such as this happen everyday. Are such accidents the result of a random, chaotic world? Or is there a greater order at work, one which plans and does nothing at random? One man seeks to prove that this is not a random accident.

Brother Juniper sees the collapse of the famous bridge as a way to unite the world of theology and the world of science. Taking a scientific approach, he delves into his investigation to prove that these five, seemingly random people, were somehow connected, proving that God is at work.

Does he find the evidence he so earnestly seeks? I won't spoil it for you, but those who are looking for a clear, unambiguous ending will be disappointed. The Bridge of San Luis Rey will leave you thinking and questioning you own thoughts on the subject.

The novel is short, and the prose is simple and bare, although poetic at times. However, it is also a book that must be consumed slowly. Its message is ultimately less about God and more about the individual's effect on others.

The Bridge of San Luis Rey is divided into parts, as Juniper investigates each person who died in the accident. As he tells the story of each's life as he has learned it, we begin to see how these victims were similar, and, of course, entirely different. In some parts the narration of each's specifics became a bit tedious, although the novel was short enough (about 108 pages) that this dryness quickly ended and so didn't really matter.

In a nutshell: A short, but not a fast, read, The Bridge of San Luis Rey will have you pondering your own place in the world. True, it's dry in spots, but the message is intriguing.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins

The Woman in White
Wilkie Collins

My lack of posting recently has been due to the behemoth called The Woman in White. At first I was daunted by the novel's 600+ pages, and I feard that its length presaged a boring work. I needn't have feared. The Woman in White is not only a classic of literature, but also the most impressive, satisfying "mystery thriller" I've ever read. DaVinci Code, indeed.

Admittedly, The Woman in White began somewhat slowly, but by page 50, I was hooked. The story mainly involves, not surprisingly, a woman in white encountered by the first narrator at the novel's onset. Who is she? Why does she only wear white? What is her terrible secret? The first two questions are answered fairly early in the novel, but don't expect an answer to the last until nearly the end.

The novel has many strengths, and not many weaknesses. The structure of the novel is particularly compelling; our first narrator is Walter Hartright, who narrates the story until he can no longer narrate it. Marian Halcombe continues it, until she no longer can, and so on. This technique advances the plot while maintaining a high level of suspense. I soon found myself reading for hours on end, despite having more pressing concerns, just to find out what would happen next to these fascinating characters.

These characters are, in my mind, the other great strength of the novel. What reader doesn't feel admiration for the ugly, manly Marian Halcombe? Who isn't utterly enchanted by the gallant, the obese, the utterly villainous Count Fosco? The world needs more Count Foscos, regardless of his lack of morality. I think I will name something Fosco. Maybe my next dog.

The only weakness I could find in the novel is a minor weakness at that. The "falling action" if you will, drags on a bit, and in an effort to tie up some loose ends, some elements seem a bit contrived. However, such is often the case when it comes to the genre, and it wasn't contrived enough to warrant an indignant outburst on my part. I finished The Woman in White content and pleased in my reading.

In a nutshell: If you enjoy a good mystery, you owe it to yourself to read The Woman in White. Who doesn't love a big, fat Count who loves his white mice and cream puffs?

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

Flash Fiction Forward

Flash Fiction Forward

How short can a story be and still truly be a story? This is the question pondered by James Thomas and Robert Shapard, the editors of this anthology. They decided that one shouldn't have to turn the page more than once, a rule I particularly liked, although I'm not sure why. The result is this collection of "flash" fiction, a collection of 80 very short stories by such writers as Amy Hempel, Dave Eggers, Paul Theroux, John Updike, and others of their ilk.

Some stories were very good; others kinda sucked, but because they were short, I didn't really mind. In fact, I was able to read a story here, a story there, and finish the collection in about a day. There's a second collection coming out in January 2007, and I plan on purchasing that one as well.

In a nutshell: A good, quick read, although all-too-emblematic of our ADD, hyperactive times.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Only Revolutions, by Mark Z. Danielewski

Only Revolutions
Mark Danielewski

What the hell am I supposed to say about Only Revolutions? First off, I'd like to state that Danielewski makes me feel like a total moron. I have no idea what happened in about 50% of this book. Of course, there are the obligatory comparisons to Joyce and Pynchon, which reminds me that I don't care for those eggheads, either. But I like Danielewski! Really I do!

Allow me to explain what I do know about the novel. Only Revolutions is about two teenagers (who are always 16), Sam and Hailey, who may or may not exist at the same time. Sam lives from 1863-1963 and Hailey from 1963-2063. And yet, they manage to coexist. Or do they? Don't ask me. For the better part of today, I've been perusing the forums on the Only Revolutions website. Why are certain letters in gold? green? purple? Why do some pages feature a black circle on the upper right hand corner? What about this? that? AAAAAAAAHHHHHH. I'm just lucky I finished it with my sanity intact.

Then there's the pages themselves. Each page is cut into four: one half for Hailey, one for Sam. Their halves are then again divided into two, one for the narrative, and one for a block of history, which, I'll be honest, I didn't even bother to read. It's important somehow, but I honestly could give a shit. Here's a scan of one such page, taken from Amazon.com--it's not the best quality, but you get the point:

It is recommended that one reads eight pages of each at a time: eight of Hailey, then flip back to Sam's narrative and reread those eight pages. And of course, 8 is a double helix, an 0 stretched and twisted, or some random shit from the forums. Ahh, to have such free time. Man, I miss college.

And while I find the book interesting (and clearly Danielewski is either a genius or absolutely, stark raving mad), I have this thing. It's called...a life. And I don't want to spend the majority of mine picking apart a book for all its myriad nuances and anomalies. I've got my MA in English. Been there, done that.

And that's not to say that I don't want my literature to be challenging. But this is just too much. House of Leaves was challenging--and mind-blowing--and yet I was able to comprehend what was going on. Damn you, Mark! I want to like this book, really I do.

That said, Only Revolutions reads more like poetry than prose, and there were some parts that were stunning in their beauty. I'll probably reread it at some point, because rereading House of Leaves allowed me to gain so much that I missed the first time around. I just wish I found more pleasure in reading Only Revolutions.

In a nutshell: you better WORK! Turn to the left! Work it -- sorry, slipped into RuPaul. But you will need to work for Only Revolutions. Is it worth the payoff? Ask me after I reread it. In at least a year or two.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 for complexity and ambition; 2.5 out of 6 for ease and clarity

My Sister's Keeper, by Jodi Picoult

My Sister's Keeper
Jodi Picoult

I've started a reading club with my English classes; although it isn't much time, I give them about 30 minutes a week to read anything they want. On one such day, about five students were reading My Sister's Keeper. They gushed about "how amazing" it is, and how I "so have to read it." I admit, I was intrigued, and I decided to try one of their selections on for size, since I expect them to read all of mine.

Surprisingly, I really liked it. My Sister's Keeper is the story of a family torn apart by one member's illness. Brian and Sara had two lovely children, Jesse and Kate; having one boy and one girl, their family was "complete." Unfortunately, one day, Kate was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia, and was not given a good prognosis. No family members were a match who could donate important stuff like white blood cells and other gross stuff I'd rather not think about, so Brian and Sara had another child, a child genetically ensured to be an exact match for Kate. Thus, Anna was born, a child who would never had lived had not Kate gotten ill and needed a donor. The novel begins when Anna, now a young teen, decides she's tired of being poked and prodded, and enlists a lawyer to sue for medical emancipation from her parents.

Surprisingly, Picoult can actually write. This is interesting because in an interview, Picoult has said one of her favorite contemporary authors is Alice Hoffman, a writer whose work I don't particularly find to be...what am I looking for...oh, I know...any good. So I lumped Picoult in with those woman-writers who write weepy-type women books that aren't literary in the least but are mildly entertaining.

Well, I was both right and wrong on that front. Her work isn't exactly literary per se, but she does write very well, and her ability to tell a story is much better than that of her mentor, Hoffman. Each chapter is narrated from a different character's perspective, beginning with Anna, then Campbell (her lawyer), then moving on to Sara, etc.

My only beef is that the voice didn't alter much from character to character; Jesse, for example, used more profanity than, say, Anna, but otherwise it seemed like pretty much the same narrator posing as multiple people. However, My Sister's Keeper poses a lot of important questions regarding parenting. How does a parent choose between two children? What are the reasons a parent even decides to have a child? I could go on, but I think you get the point.

My biggest problem (and, surprisingly, also something I liked) was the ending. A lot of people complain about the ending, saying it was totally unforeseeable and highly unlikely. Other people praise the book for just those reasons, as real life is unforeseeable and highly unlikely at times. Suffice it to say that the ending didn't sit right with me, but it didn't cause me to hate the book. It kinda seemed like Picoult was trying to be shocking, but then again, the ending somehow fit. If you've read the book, I'd like to hear your thoughts.

In a nutshell: A fast, thought-provoking read. I plan on reading more of Picoult.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

I am Legend, by Richard Matheson

I Am Legend
Richard Matheson

I Am Legend has been described as a pioneering novel for both science-fiction and horror fans alike. In it, Matheson describes a post-apocalyptic world with detachment and objectivity.

Robert Neville, the star of the novel, doesn't have an easy life. Unlike those who struggle to make ends meet, pay the bills, and raise the kids, Neville is just trying to stay alive. He's the last human alive on earth, and the rest of the world is either dead or transformed into the living dead, after a plague has changed humanity into vampire-like creatures that obey some, but not all, of the rules of folk-lore. Now Neville must make good use of his daylight hours, stockpiling all he needs so that he can hole up at night and pray for morning.

I am Legend is not so much action-based as it is character-driven. Neville's psychological battle is the real star of this book. Those looking for a "scary" read will probably be disappointed. Instead of creepy spooks clamoring for blood (and, to be fair, there are some of those), the reader will find a lot of internal conflict as Neville struggles to continue living in a hopeless world.

Of course, the reader must wonder why Neville even bothers. With everyone dead, with no hope left for humanity, why carry on? It's a question that Neville asks himself often. Curiously, in a world devoid of hope, Neville does not succumb to despair. He continues to fight, day after day, night after night. I probably would have thrown in the towel long before.

In a nutshell: A fast read that is appropriate for the time of year when vampires and ghouls roam the wild. There are scarier reads out there, although I Am Legend has been described as an extremely influential work.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.5 out of 6 stars

The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis

The Screwtape Letters
C.S. Lewis

While reading Malachi Martin in my school library, I discussed my latest reading trend with the kindly librarian. She recommended The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis (of Narnia fame). I was intrigued by her description of the novel and decided to give it a whirl, even though her acknowledgement that the book is "Catholic, but not preachy" made me lose hope that I would actually enjoy it.

Well, she was right, but I did enjoy the book for the most part. It WAS very Catholic but not too preachy, as she said. Unfortunately, it wasn't so scary either, which is really the reason I am reading these spooky, Halloweeny-type books.

The Screwtape Letters is a series of letters written from Uncle Screwtape (a high-ranking demon in Hell) to his nephew, Wormwood, a novice trying to secure the soul of a young Brit during WWII. Screwtape offers advice to his nephew by including methods guaranteed to damn anyone. Because the letters are one-sided (we only get Screwtape's replies) and more about ideas than action, The Screwtape Letters is not a plot-driven book. In fact, it's not even a character-driven book. Rather, it is a book which illustrates the right way to live by providing how the devil would like us to live.

Obviously, the book is geared toward Catholicism. It isn't overtly preachy, but the premise does start to wear thin midway through the book. And while the book did start to get tedious after awhile (I skimmed the last 25 pages), I still managed to find a few illuminating gems that anyone can enjoy, even if one is not so centered on the Catholic faith.

For example:

Do what you will, there is going to be some benevolence, as well as some malice, in your patient’s soul. The great thing is to direct the malice to his immediate neighbours whom he meets every day and to thrust his benevolence out to the remote circumference, to people he does not know. The malice thus becomes wholly real and the benevolence largely imaginary.

This is something I do all the time. I'll feel bad for the starving oppressed five thousand miles away, but cut me off while driving, and I might nearly run you over. So this is something everyone can benefit from remembering from time to time.

Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man’s best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them…in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lush or ambition to give them a relish…edge the man away from the Light and out into the Nothing. Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick. Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one…

How often is an hour, a day, a week--even longer--wasted on absolutely nothing, or at least nothing of importance? If we add those hours up, how much of our lives is spent doing nothing? It's easy to think, "I'm relaxing," or "This will just last an hour," but without our even realizing it, those hours and minutes add up.

Illumination Factor: Illumination is all this book is about. However, regardless of one's religion, everyone can find something worthy of remembering here.

In a nutshell: Not the best book ever written, in my opinion, but The Screwtape Letters has something to say to everyone. Every once in awhile, it's good to be reminded of the thousand ways a person can live better. Just know what you're getting into before you begin reading.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.5 out of 6 stars

The Castle of Otranto, by Horace Walpole

The Castle of Otranto
Horace Walpole

As "the earliest and most influential of the Gothic novels," I felt compelled to read The Castle of Otranto, especially as I love the genre. And, at about 100 pages, it wasn't difficult to tear through this classic novel.

The novel begins with the impending wedding of Conrad, son of Manfred (the prince of Otranto). Unfortunately, Conrad has just been killed by a giant...wait for it...helmet. Yes, a giant helmet. Conrad's death leads Manfred to set in motion a sequence of unhappy events, which all just so happen to illustrate the conventions of Gothic literature.

First, there's a damsel in distress and a domineering, lusty man who places her in peril. Then there's a spooky castle with secret passages, complete with a ghost or two. Add in a prophecy, a little insanity, a death or two, lots of swooning and fainting, and there you have it.

Unfortunately, like most melodramatic novels, the plot is contrived and the ending can be seen a mile away. Another gripe I had was the dialogue: instead of each speaker's words being separated from another's, it was all lumped together in one paragraph; quotation marks were not even used, which made it quite difficult to tell when one person finished speaking and another began. My final complaint was that it wasn't really scary or scandalous, especially compared to my favorite Gothic novel, The Monk.

In a nutshell: The Castle of Otranto is a must read if you enjoy Gothic literature. If you haven't been introduced to the genre, this is a fun, quick way to see Gothic lit in action. It isn't, however, the best book you'll ever read, but, c'mon - the guy got killed by a giant helmet.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.5 out of 6 stars

Rashomon, by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Rashomon and Other Stories
Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa is hailed as a master of Japanese literature. Having been unfamiliar with his work, I decided to start with this collection of stories. I was left perplexed, and not altogether happy. Maybe it's because as an American with little to no knowledge of Japanese literature, I simply could not appreciate what Akutagawa had to offer. However, I don't believe that's the case. Good literature should transcend cultural and national boundaries.

"In the Grove" is the first story in the collection and is perhaps his most famous work. It tells the story of a murder from several points of view. Not surprisingly, these stories often do not mesh and even contradict one another. That perceptions can vary among people--this, I understand--but how on earth could several people murder one man??? He was killed with ONE STROKE -- and yet, apparently, three people stabbed him?? HUH?? I admit, I don't get it. I don't mind ambiguity, I don't mind open-ended resolutions--but this just seems ridiculous. I feel as though there was one "correct answer," and I just missed it. Perhaps I did. But I found this story more annoying than interesting.

The rest of the stories are good, but not particularly earth-shattering. I enjoyed that they are short, and the style is simple and direct. Akutagawa does not waste time with lengthy description or unnecessary discourse. More than the stories themselves, I found his style to be the biggest strength of this collection.

If I found any illumination here, it was that there is no real truth. Truth changes from person to person. I agree (although I still dispute that three people can't kill one person...unless, maybe they all managed to stab him in exactly the same spot? Lord, that's just silly too), but I've found better works which handle this idea (such as Seven Types of Ambiguity).

In a nutshell: I would recommend acquainting yourself with Akutagawa, as his "In the Grove" is pretty well known. But after reading this collection of stories, I don't feel compelled to read more.

Bibliolatry Scale: 2.5 out of 6 stars

The Keep, by Jennifer Egan

The Keep
Jennifer Egan

Einstein famously said, "Imagination is more important than knowledge," but is that true? How important are "facts," really? How powerful is one's imagination? Jennifer Egan explores this theme as well as the illusion of freedom in her second novel, The Keep, in which two stories are interwoven and connected by the unknown.

Danny, drawn to his cousin Howie's newly-acquired castle due to various unpleasant circumstances, finds a mystery he cannot unravel. As his cousin and his workers renovate the castle, Danny finds the old baroness holed up in the keep, the strongest part of the structure. The baroness refuses to leave the estate that has been in her family for nearly a thousand years. Even more mysteriously, she seems to change and shift, at times appearing as a beautiful young lady even though she is nearly a century old. What exactly is going on at this castle? Danny, cut off from life back home (there are no cell phones, internet connections, or satellite dishes here), desperately tries to find himself and reconnect to the world.

Meanwhile, as Danny narrates his adventures at the castle, another man narrates his tale: Ray, in prison with no possibility of parole. To escape the dreariness that surrounds him, he begins to write. One can obviously draw parallels between Danny and Ray just from what I've written here. However, the real surprise is the way in which their stories finally do collide, and it is this mystery that is at the real heart of the novel, not the goings-on at the castle.

While I found this book to be a real page-turner, something prevents me from rating this book as greater than mediocre. It is undoubtedly an enjoyable read, but does not deserve the heaping praise delivered by some reviewers. And yet, I'm not sure why--perhaps it is because The Keep is a bit formulaic in parts, simply unnecessary in others, heavy-handed in still others.

In a nutshell: Pretty good for popular fiction, but too contrived to be more than that. As a page-turner, The Keep's final surprise will compel you to get to the end, but it won't resonate with you after it's over.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.75 out of 6 stars

Portnoy's Complaint, by Philip Roth

Portnoy's Complaint
Philip Roth

So who hasn't heard of Philip Roth? After hearing about how great he is (due to his most recent publication, Everyman), I decided to start my introduction with Portnoy's Complaint. It was definitely an interesting read.

Did I like it? I honestly don't know. I don't even know how many stars I'll rate it at the end of this review. Portnoy's Complaint was laugh-out-loud funny in parts, touching in others, and highly disturbing in still others--and yet, it simply became too much. Allow me to try and explain.

Alexander Portnoy narrates his complaint as he struggles to find the source of his problems. Most likely, his Jewish upbringing is to blame. His major complaint, as I see it, is that he is "torn by desires repugnant to [his] conscience" and has a "conscience repugnant to [his] desires." Thus he spends about 270 pages bitching to his psychotherapist about how he needs every single (insert expletive for female genitalia here) that walks past him, only to hate himself for it afterward.

Now, I consider myself a liberal person: I like profanity. I use it a lot; it's like salt and pepper on a bland meal. However, I remember a time in my unfortunate childhood when I, not understanding the impact of a well-timed f-bomb, threw the word around like so much luggage in the hands of an angry airport employee. This book reminded me a lot of that period. And the vulgarity! After the fifth episode in which Alex either gets laid or jerks off, I began to find it a bit gratuitous. Like, "Look, America! I wrote the word pussy! I'm a real bad ass!" And, yes, Alex, I get that you like to masturbate, but I really don't need more than one chapter about it, ok?

I found the best character in the book to be Alex's mother, Sophie. If you enjoyed Jerry's parents in Seinfeld, you'll love those scenes in which Alex's parents figure strongly. Unfortunately, the second half of the book is devoted more to sex with The Monkey (long story, and not a very interesting one, either) than funny familial anecdotes.

Basically Portnoy's Complaint is 270 pages of Alex bitching about his parents, his upbringing, his women, his penis, and the guilt he feels over all of the former. Had the book stopped at page 200, I probably would have remained entertained. But how many times can one hear the same joke told over and over before it loses its appeal?

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

Hostage to the Devil, by Malachi Martin

Hostage to the Devil
Malachi Martin

Now THIS is what I'm talking about. This book scared me so badly that I had to stop reading it--in order to pray. I said prayers I haven't said in years.

In fact, this weekend, I was struck down by a plague-like affliction (ok, it was a respiratory virus that has been making the rounds at my school) and some where, in the middle of a fever-ravaged night, I kept waking, swearing the devil was trying to possess me. Blinded by fear (and fever...and NyQuil), I prayed again and again as I fell back to sleep. If I remember correctly, I prayed IN my sleep.

Now that's a damn good book.

Of course, here sit I, blithely recalling those fearful moments in order to mock them for my stupid book blog. So Hostage to the Devil apparently didn't make that deep of a connection...or did it? Let's see.

Malachi Martin is another of those Vatican-types who has written a book on exorcism. However, unlike his peer Gabriele Amorth, Martin really gives you the nitty-gritty. He details what happens to the exorcist, explaining the assault that takes him over: for example, his senses become confused, he hears colors, he tastes sights, he smells sounds, etc. He is subject to the most awful revelations of personal sins and mistakes. Sometimes, he may even be physically wounded, as in the case of one exorcist who found his nether regions torn and cut and needing many stitches.

Martin outlines a brief overview of exorcism, then details five accounts. He tells every side of the story, having meticulously compiled his research from interviews, diaries and journals, witnesses, and the like. He begins in the midst of the exorcism only to pull back and explain the history of both the possessed and the exorcist alike.

I found it interesting that in all cases, the possessed is aware of an intruding presence before giving himself (or herself) over to it. Almost every case of possession occurs with this acceptance. So that made me feel better. No devil will be sneaking up on me, no sir!

Unfortunately, at the end of the book I was bewildered to find, as an appendix, the Roman Catholic Church's Rite of Exorcism. In full. Now, according to both these books, only a qualified exorcist can ever hope to effectively perform this rite. For anyone else to do so would cause horrific disaster. If that is true, I can't help but wonder: why publish it here? Surely the world is peopled with enough morons not to invite such temptation. If it's as serious as they say, you'd think they'd want to keep a lid on it.

And then I had to ruin all this belief by Googling Malachi Martin (for the pics, natch), thus bringing me to his Wikipedia entry. Apparently he has a reputation for being less-than-trustworthy. Does that discredit Hostage to the Devil? God, I hope not. It's just too damn good.

But, if even an eighth of this book is true...that's enough for me. So am I converted? Now a believer?

Not necessarily. But, as they say, forewarned is forearmed (or something like that) and a heightened awareness never hurt anyone. So now I'll be watching, all you devil-worshippers (which both authors stress are appearing in greater numbers than ever before. Really? Cause that's just lame. Even Marilyn Manson hopped off that train, or so I thought).

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars (but very disturbing, so watch out)

An Exorcist Tells His Story, by Gabriele Amorth

An Exorcist Tells His Story
Gabriele Amorth

Like the Mulder of old, I too want to believe. Also like Mulder, my desire includes not only extraterrestrials, but all forms of the supernatural. Ultimately I'm looking for a reason to believe in God, as the lapsed Catholic in me is not able to believe on faith alone. Again, like my fictional, alien-hunting kindred spirit, I need some proof.

Not too long ago, I saw The Exorcism of Emily Rose, which was apparently "based on a true story." Yeah, I immediately thought. So was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and we all know how that went. (If you don't, the real "massacre" didn't occur in Texas, didn't, so far as I know, include a chainsaw, and didn't feature a deformed freak. So, yeah, based on a true story indeed.)

I immediately wondered how "true" The Exorcism of Emily Rose was. My search led me to Amazon.com, where I would commence my research with a healthy dose of shopping. I found that apparently the movie is based on a true story called The Exorcism of Anneliese Michel. The book didn't sound as interesting as I'd hoped, but it did lead me to An Exorcist Tells His Story.

Gabriele Amorth is, to quote the back cover, "the renowned chief exorcist of Rome." So I expected a few interesting anecdotes. Basically, I just wanted to know if the devil is real. Cause that would help me out some. Now, I'm sure you're thinking, OF COURSE the devil is real. And I believe evil is real, but The Devil? The medieval, horned, cloven-footed fallen angel guy? Sometimes I'm not so sure. Well, An Exorcist Tells His Story had me starting to believe...and then it got all...well...medieval on me.

First, Amorth delivers a long lecture on the history of Satan, quoting the Bible and providing all these references to back up the fact that this stuff happens. So it's more theoretical than "here, listen to this cool story about the time I kicked that demon's ass" sorta stuff. When I remembered that I get to read about 60 research papers a year, I was especially annoyed at purchasing another one.

Even worse is that (not surprisingly) it gets all preachy, talking about how our modern society is uber-Satanic. And he had me at first: I admit, in a world where Paris Hilton makes the news more often than the war in Iraq, I'm willing to admit the presence of the devil. My skepticism grew, however, when he started discussing other dangerous elements of our modern society. Namely...

YOGA.

REALLY, DUDE? Yoga is SATANIC? For real? Come on. Have you ever done it? It's a hell of a workout. (Did you see how I slipped a joke in there?) Anyway, it wasn't at all dark and evil-like. (I could insert another lame pun about the "burn" it gave my muscles, but this review is already too long and I have a headache.)

So basically I was starting to get into it, but then he had to get all theoretical and research-paper like, and then say that yoga is Satanic, which just made him seem all out-of-touch and annoying. Give me a break. Thankfully my current read (also by a Vatican-type person) is WAY better. It's full of anecdotes that really put the fear of God in ya. Which is, of course, what I'm looking for.

Bibliolatry Scale: 2 out of 6 stars

Gigi, by Colette

Gigi, Julie de Carneilhan, and Chance Acquaintances: Three Short Novels
Colette

I defy anyone to read Gigi without falling immediately head-over-heels in love with both Gigi and her creator.

Gigi is a young girl being trained in the arts of the courtesan in turn-of-the-century Paris. Under the careful eye of her aunt, Gigi is learning how to dress, eat, fake weaknesses, and even choose cigars--all to please the rich men that will come into her life. Gigi, however, wants a life greater than this. While her own idealism seems immature to her family, it is this very quality which is Gigi's ultimate victory.

The story is not only perfectly delightful but also quite hysterical. I laughed out loud as Gigi, wishing to avoid a vague euphemism for her genitalia, asks to know its proper name. Her grandmother, however, sternly admonishes her: There is no other name. Each scene is embued with a subtle humor which entertains the reader at every turn.

This collection contains not only Gigi but also Julie de Carneilhan and Chance Acquaintances. Both of the latter pieces are short and delightful, and after reading them, I now want to read everything Colette ever wrote. There is, however, only one Gigi.

In a nutshell: If you haven't been introduced to Collete (described as "one of the glories of France" by Michael Straight), this is the perfect collection to begin with. J'adore Gigi!

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars (for Gigi)

The Harrowing by Alexandra Sokoloff

The Harrowing
Alexandra Sokoloff

Ok ladies and gentlemen, Halloween is fast approaching and, as it's my favorite holiday, that means I'll be tearing through a lot of fear-inspiring reads. The Halloweeny began with The Harrowing by Alexandra Sokoloff.

The story takes place at Baird College as students travel home for Thanksgiving break. Five students, mostly strangers to one another although connected by a mutual dislike of home, remain behind on campus. With everything closed down and a storm raging overhead, the students inadvertently come together to pass the time. And what better way to pass the time than with a Ouija Board? I’m sure you can see where this is headed.

In fact our word for today, kiddies, is STEREOTYPICAL. Can you say that with me? That’s right. Let’s start with the five kids who hate going home: a veritable Breakfast Club of stereotypes, we have the meathead jock, the nerd, the rebel, the slut, and the depressed loner. We even have, in a supporting role, the rich snob as the meathead’s girlfriend. The plot itself is stereotypical as well, as it isn’t hard to figure out what will happen once the ball gets rolling. Finally, The Harrowing (and what the hell is up with that title, I ask you? Talk about melodramatic) is full of gothic devices: strange rapping, thunder and lightning, scary séances, gloomy castle-like buildings, and more.

You’d think that such a book would warrant a poor review, and I’ve certainly spent the better part of this one commenting on the book’s weaknesses. And yet, I couldn’t help but enjoy it. True, I’m already biased toward the spooky. But The Harrowing is such a fun read that I couldn’t put it down. And, to be fair, there were a few surprises thrown in that I didn’t see coming.

Aside from the above-mentioned stereotypes, there were a few other flaws. A few elements seemed illogical; a few allusions seemed as if they would later be important but were in fact not. However, these flaws are relatively minor. Be advised that this is light reading, as far as illuminating texts are concerned. It’s a ghost story, plain and simple, with a possible lesson of accepting yourself—and that’s pushing it.

In a nutshell: If you’re like me and you enjoy a good ghost story, pick up The Harrowing. Sure, it’s melodramatic and stereotypical, but that’s what the genre is all about.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars