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)