Which of the 10 best online stories of 2007 is your favorite?

While I'm busy scribbling away at a myriad of reviews, I thought I'd leave you a nice way to spend a Monday, especially if you're stuck in an office. The following link will provide you with lots of reading to occupy your time.

Jason Sanford, editor and publisher of storySouth, has chosen the top ten online short stories of 2007, and until July 17, you can vote for your favorite. The winner will receive $300, and all the stories are available online.

The following stories come from a variety of online literary mags, and a variety of genres are featured.

You may click here to go to the list.

If you have time, come back and leave your favorite in the comments. As soon as I've made my way through all of them, I'll do the same.

Happy reading!

Sunday Sonnet

THE ILLITERATE
by William Meredith

Touching your goodness, I am like a man
Who turns a letter over in his hand
And you might think this was because the hand
Was unfamiliar but, truth is, the man
Has never had a letter from anyone;
And now he is both afraid of what it means
And ashamed because he has no other means
To find out what it says than to ask someone.

His uncle could have left the farm to him,
Or his parents died before he sent them word,
Or the dark girl changed and want him for beloved.
Afraid and letter-proud, he keeps it with him.
What would you call his feeling for the words
That keep him rich and orphaned and beloved?


From The Penguin Book of the Sonnet, edited by Phillis Levin

How to handle stress effectively

The First 30 Days: Your Guide to Any Change (and Loving Your Life More)
Ariane de Bonvoisin

How do you deal with change? With stress?

Although I have many fears, I’m proud to say that change isn’t one of them. Then again, little beyond my age and hairstyle has changed much over the years. I’d like to think that I handle change well, but I really can’t be sure.

Mostly, though, I hide from change (or even just stressful things in general), doing anything in my power to avoid dealing with the situation. When this isn’t possible, I’d like to say that I always deal positively, like by exercising or reading. Sometimes this is true, but I’m also liable to shove food and/or alcohol down my throat instead. Good times.

Ariane de Bonvoisin would probably look down on my binging, even if a good binge session is followed by a nice bout of cardio. Her book, The First 30 Days: Your Guide to Any Change (and Loving Your Life More), outlines how to handle change effectively. Much of her advice, however, can be applied to any stressful situation, so if you aren't about to undergo change, don't write The First 30 Days off just yet.

I have to be upfront from the beginning and say that I generally don't like self-help books. I think most of their advice is common-sense, and I think that authors often prey on poor, gullible readers who, looking for a bit of hope in a hopeless world, buy such sage advice at unbelievably high prices. (Sylvia Browne, I'm looking at you, dear, even though there is a soft place in my heart for your gravelly predictions).

Tools for Life #1:
Be vague. Be very, very vague.

Thankfully, Ariane de Bonvoisin (what a great name. Is it unprofessional for me to just stop a second and remark on that? Say it aloud -- go ahead, I dare you. Ariane de Bonvoisin. Melodical, no?) is not among those those who sell bad advice at high prices.

For starters, her website contains a wealth of information on change without prompting you either to register or to pay to access the information. Secondly, The First 30 Days itself offers several distinct coping methods to help one understand (and even embrace) change. De Bonvoisin focuses on changing both one's mindset and behavior regarding change, and the techniques she advises to effect this change were practical (and, more importantly, genuinely helpful) and not of the "oh gimme a break" variety that I've found in other self-help books. Although I'm not exactly facing change right now, I did apply a few suggestions to a current stressful situation and found that de Bonvoisin helped me to rethink the situation in a new way.

In a nutshell: Whether you're facing a big change or a small one, The First 30 Days is a must. Even if you're not facing change, de Bonvoisin will help you better handle stress. And don't forget loved ones when the holiday season approaches -- The First 30 Days would make a great gift.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars


So, I'll ask again, how do you cope with stress? Leave your great ideas (including recipes for tasty cookies and brownies and even alcoholic beverages) in the comments.

Fight or Flight: How will YOU face the end?

World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War
Max Brooks

Well, now, I'm just facing a whole bunch of fears lately, eh? (True, I'm doing so in bookish form, but I'd say that's just as good.) Not only have I forced myself to read about cockroaches, I’m continuing to stare down another big fear: zombies. My fear of the impending zombie apocalypse has been well documented, so I won't say anymore about it. Of course, unlike my fear of cockroaches (which causes me to run from anything that even remotely resembles one, like a caterpillar), my fear of zombies is the opposite: I don't run from zombies, I embrace them.

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking: you can't embrace zombies; they don't exist. You aren't really making a giant leap here. To that I say: zombies simply aren't real right now. Just you wait.

So as part of love/hate of all that is zombie-ish, I'm always searching for anything zombie-related. Enter World War Z. I was a bit wary of reading something else by Max Brooks after unsuccessfully reading his previous work, The Zombie Survival Guide, a tongue-in-cheek explanation of how to survive the impending zombie apocalypse. Reading World War Z has reconciled me to The Zombie Survival Guide, which I now see in a different light (although I maintain The Zombie Survival Guide would be better as an appendix to World War Z).

Fight or flight, you say?
I'm running like a little bitch

Although I am usually a snarky devil, I have to say I enjoyed World War Z, and I was a little saddened to see that it received so many negative reviews. (While, ironically enough, The Zombie Survival Guide was lauded, something I just can't wrap my brain around.) So as I provide an overview to the book, I'll also try to knock down some of the charges levied against World War Z.

World War Z is billed as an oral history of the zombie war, so it's all told after the war has ended. Many critics have complained that this creates a lack of suspense -- but, people, we're talking about ZOMBIES here!! Does it really matter if we've won a war against them when it's all said and done? I argue that one's fear of zombies comes not from becoming one of them but rather from not becoming one of them. The zombies themselves lack the mental capacity to realize their lot; those fighting against them are all too aware of what they stand against.

Furthermore, as various personages (military strategists, smugglers, officials, random survivors -- you name it) relate the tale, they each return us to a particular moment in the war: for some, it's the initial appearances of the plague, which appears in isolated regions; later, during what is called "The Great Panic," large outbreaks occur. As the survivors relate the details of the moment, we forget that this is aftermath; we are, quite simply, in the moment, and so the complaint that there is no suspense is a little absurd.

Another critique is the lack of individual voice to distinguish one narrator from another. To be fair, there is something to this criticism, but I have to be honest and say that it didn't bother me while I was reading it. Another criticism is the unbelievability of some details, like, for example, the fact that certain military weapons don't work at all on zombies. (To that I say: um, zombies aren't real, so how do we know what would work on them? To say that a shrapnel bomb would most definitely take a zombie down and Brooks is an asshole for having zombies survive such an attack is more than a little pedantic, in my humble opinion.)

More cogent of a criticism is the fact that certain details contradict themselves (like, for example, how one narrator explains that zombies naturally decompose or starve or some such after a period of time, while another explains that if several zombies were locked up, they would emerge just as deadly in a few years). This is a valid criticism, but, to a person who enjoys zombie lit, one that is easily overlooked. (And, as reader Jeff so astutely points out, it's an oral history, so some contradiction among varying points of view is to be expected.)

Overall, I enjoyed World War Z. There were a few areas I admit to skimming (especially those concerning reconstruction after the end of the war), but it maintained my interest and it provided the zombie fix I was looking for.

In a nutshell: Engrossing and detailed, World War Z may not always be the most logically sound, but that's forgivable given the subject matter.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Fear is the mind killer

Kockroach
Tyler Knox

The tale I am about to relate is most undoubtedly true. The memory of it still manages to send chills down my spine, despite the fact that the following events happened over twenty years ago. The moment remains seared into my memory as though with a hot iron, driving into me a deep, irrational fear that is with me to this day.

It had been a day like any other. I sat, still blessedly innocent and unaware, playing in my bedroom. A light breeze moved the curtains and sounds of the city wafted gently through my window. I could hear the bleats and whirrs of passing cars, and the shouts of children (those who actually – I shudder at the thought – played outside) could also be heard.

Suddenly, there rose above this cacophony a sound that struck terror to my heart. It was a piercing shriek made only by those being gutted by a home invader, something that I vaguely feared, even at five years old.

My fears doubled when I realized that the shriek had come from my own home; worse still, it came from the basement, the physical distillation of all that I hated. However, neither of these facts scared me like the realization that the shrieker was none other than my mother herself.

Without thinking, I raced down the steps to do something, anything. I arrived to find a scene that I would never, ever forget.

My mother was not being gutted by a home invader. The reality was much simpler.

My mother had seen a cockroach.

Okay, okay, perhaps there had been more than one. Two, even – however, the swarm that I remember seething about her feet is probably just a figment of my imagination. However many there were, I’m sure they weren’t trying to remain in the light; knowing what I know now about roaches, I believe that once my mother had uncovered them they bolted for the nearest crevice.

This event would have fallen into the recesses of my memory were it not for the crippling fear of cockroaches that embedded itself deep into my psyche from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before I found myself emitting the same high-pitched shrieks whenever I happened to glimpse any small insect, even when at a distance.

ohjesusohjesusohjesusohjesus

I mention this story because it underscores the trepidation I felt upon undertaking Tyler Knox’s Kockroach. My stomach churned upon opening the book and finding the image of a cockroach in the corner of each page. As I read, this image appeared to move, and several times I stopped reading to brush wildly at my skin, trying to make the heebie-jeebies disappear.

I, however, triumphed. Not only did I finish Kockroach, but I loved it. In fact, I think that I might even have come to love the little bastards. Okay, okay, this little bastard. Well, so long as he stays the hell away from me.

Kockroach is Kafka’s Metamorphosis reversed. One day, a cockroach wakes up to find he is a man. Disconcerted because he cannot fit into his usual crevice, he slowly learns how to operate his new body. Soon he’s living on the streets and eating out of dumpsters. As he becomes more skilled at using his human body, Kockroach finds himself – where else? – in the criminal underworld, with a sidekick named, appropriately enough, Mite. Lacking emotion or conscience, Kockroach is able to rise quickly though the criminal ranks and soon turns to – just as fittingly – politics.

But don't let the gimmick fool you: Kockroach is more than just a riff on Kafka. First, it’s damn funny, especially as Kockroach learns to behave as a human. (Before he learns how humans eat, he regurgitates his food to give it another go. And why not?) There are plenty of other examples of the wickedly sharp humor boasted by Kockroach, but humor isn’t all it has going for it. It’s also pretty damn smart.

In Kockroach, Knox (the pseudonym of William Lashner) deftly blends his knowledge of the arthropod with his knowledge of the human. At the beginning, Kockroach, firmly entrenched in the present, does not think beyond his current situation. He feels neither remorse nor guilt, but only does what needs to be done to survive and to fuel the twin desires of greed and fear. Soon, however, he learns words and with them come thoughts, and in no time at all he can remember the past and plan for the future. Of course, as his words increase, so do his worries.

In a nutshell: A little off-putting at first, but truly an awesome novel. Kockroach's evolution from cockroach to...well, a cockroach in a human body is smart, engaging, and absolutely unforgettable.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

SECRETLY I AM BUILDING IN THE HEART
by Julia Alvarez

Secretly I am building in the heart
a delicate structure like one of those
cardhouses or Popsicle palaces
kids build, patiently piecing each part
together, fingers pinching a small tube
of glue, eyes straining to perceive what new
thing I am making that takes so much time
to finish if there's finish in these things.
And making it out of nothing but what
are ruins from an earlier effort
and tempted constantly to believe that
a readymade is better, and yet I've
labored with my heart to outlast the heart
with this thing I'm creating out of love.


From The Penguin Book of the Sonnet, edited by Phillis Levin

Le Guin and the Omelas

I've been on a cleaning jag lately, and while organizing some papers I found a note to myself to read a short story by Ursula Le Guin. Hoping it was available online (and, quite frankly, looking for a reason to take a break), I found myself in luck -- and stopped cleaning immediately to read it.

The story, "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," was short but very powerful, and I'm still thinking about it now, almost 24 hours later. Omelas is, in a sense, a utopia, although Le Guin ultimately proves that the only place a utopia can be found is no place at all.

If you haven't yet had the pleasure of reading "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," then you may go here to read it in full.

I'd love to hear your thoughts after you've read the story. What did you think of the terrible paradox of Omelas? Could you live with this "terrible justice of reality"? Or would you be among those who "walk ahead into the darkness"?

Baptized, reborn, in the arms of a boy

Neurotica, by Elva Maxine Beach

Elva Maxine Beach’s Neurotica isn’t like anything I’ve ever read before. True, it features male-female dynamics as well as a thoughtful exploration of issues like power and control, but Beach explores these themes differently than most other authors do.

As indicated by the title, Neurotica blends both the psychological and the erotic. In fact, as Beach explains on her website, “My work isn’t necessarily erotica… It’s raw, yes, and there’s lots of fucking and sucking, but my work delves into the psyche. It’s psyche-sexual drama.”

Neurotica is not for the faint of heart, but for those who aren't scared off by the prospect of some "fucking and sucking," you'll find Neurotica to be a well-written, thought-provoking collection of poetry and short fiction. Beach, who currently “teaches writing, professes pleasure, and encourages mindful hedonism” (I am so down with this!) earned an MFA at Louisiana State University, where a friend advised her to write erotica.

The strongest pieces in Neurotica are the short stories (especially, "Can I Get a Hallelujah?" which you can read here), which chronicle the narrator's sexual progression, from awakening to liberation. No matter where one is along the narrator's path, her story is unsettling, disturbing, unconventional -- and utterly compelling. At times, my hand crept to my mouth (the Catholic school girl in me blushed a deep shade of red several times), but never could I look away, and I found my mind returning to Neurotica long after I had finished it.

In a nutshell: Erotica with a social conscience, Neurotica explores the power one person can have over another -- but it also explores the power found in powerlessness.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Special Announcement: A book release party will be held on June 28 in Austin, Texas. If you act soon, the hardcover version of the book will be shipped free to anywhere in North America, but this offer is good only through the 28th of June.

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?

The Millions posted an interesting question recently: When it comes to the books you collect, New, Used, or Antiquarian?

My answer is not as simple as it once would have been. The me of a few months ago would unequivocally answer "new!" while sneering at the idea of a lowly, used book.

The me of today isn't so sure.

Of course, there is nothing like a new book; as Beecher knew, human nature is never so weak as in a bookstore. (I assume he meant a bookstore specializing in new books -- if he didn't, then forget him.) I love the feel, the smell, the promise of a new book. Unfortunately, when I spend my heard-earned dollars on a new book that ends up being -- to put it rather bluntly -- a major piece of shit, I get angry, which, of course, leads me to consider purchasing used books.

However, I don't really like used books. I won't totally avoid them, so long as they are in good condition; I don't like to see creases or other people's writing. Basically, if I can pretend it's new, used is okay.

And as for antiquarian? Yeah, right. I have neither the money nor the space.

Speaking of both money and space, I've had to come to terms with the fact that I've been spending way too much on books as of late. While I'm not a big spender when it comes to clothes and shoes, that doesn't mean I can make up for it with books, especially when my limited book-space is becoming increasingly endangered. For this reason, I've taken to -- don't keel over, now -- the library. I'm still getting used to the idea -- I don't like having to part with a good book once I've read it, but I also can't afford to buy and store everything I read, especially when not every read is worth the expense.

So, to finally answer the question: I prefer new, but used is also acceptable, and library books are appearing in my hands more and more.

What do you prefer, New, Used, or Antiquarian?

The most important facts hold true

When You Are Engulfed in Flames
David Sedaris

My latest review is available at Pajiba, this time on the latest by David Sedaris, When You Are Engulfed in Flames.

Many critics complain that this latest collection of personal essays isn't as hilarious as previous collections, such as Naked, which, to be fair, made me wet my pants from laughing too hard. However, comparing Engulfed to Naked is, in my mind, a bit unfair, and you can read what I say in response to such criticism here.

In a nutshell: Perhaps not as hilarious as previous works, but that doesn't mean When You Are Engulfed in Flames isn't worth the read.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

SONNET 37
by William Shakespeare

As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!

Friday fun

Several reviews are underway, but in the meantime you can peruse these links to pass the time.

First, Jake Seliger wonders why so little science fiction rises to the standards of literary fiction. (Via NewPages)

Speaking of science fiction, here's an interview with William Gibson.

Science-fiction not your thing? Well, if you're a Hemingway fan with some extra change, you might be interested in this.

Now THIS is a great idea!

This article raises an interesting question: What’s hiding in your books?

And finally, in honor of Friday the 13th, a clip that had me giggling like a little kid:

Speaking of Jason, I can't believe I watched this all the way through. Good times. Speaking of having too much time on one's hands, check out this guy.

There are other worlds than these

Brasyl
Ian McDonald

My latest book review for Pajiba is up. This one's for science fiction fans: Ian McDonald's Brasyl.

Brasyl has won the 2008 British Science Fiction Association Award and was a finalist for both the 2008 Hugo Award and the 2007 Quill Book Awards.

You may click here to read my review. If you'd like to read the first chapter, click here -- be aware, though, that the first chapter doesn't really do it justice.

In a nutshell: Brasyl is a must for science-fiction fans, but be prepared to work for this one.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Oversharing Meme

Everyone knows I'm a sucker for a good meme, and I couldn't ignore this one I found over at So Many Books.

Here we go.



1. Name the singer/band/performer you are most embarrassed to admit you actually paid good money to see in concert.

My first concert was quite embarrassing, although my mother paid for it, not me. It was the Monkees reunion tour, and I was dismayed to see that Davy Jones was not as young as I had thought he was. It was still a good concert – although my most vivid memory from that night is of the girl who sat in front of me: she had a braid in her hair and annoyingly bobbed her head to EVERY. SINGLE. song. Plus, she blocked my view of the stage. Stupid bobbing head.

2. Which reality TV show have you watched more than once (come on. I don’t believe you if you say “none,” unless you don’t own a TV)?

I’m not ashamed to admit that I LOVE reality TV. It’s a stain on my character, I know, but it’s hard for me to turn away from a good reality show. Currently I’m enjoying So You Think You Can Dance?.

3. Which complete trash novelist have you not only read but enjoyed enough to read more than one book of his/hers?

This is a tough one. I’m not sure I can answer it. Maybe Jodi Picoult? I’ve only read one book by her, but I’d read another (although I wouldn't pay for her). I’m not sure she classifies as “trashy” but it’s the closest I can come. Ooh - maybe Anne Rice? She's trashy, what with all those bi-curious vampires running around with their long nails and hair. (For the record, it's the long nails that always grossed me out. It's just so unnecessary. JUST LOOK AT THEM.)

4. What sappy musical could you watch over and over and over again?

I can honestly say I’m not a big fan of musicals. Well, at least not any that have come out in recent memory. I’m a sucker for The Sound of Music, though. I always wanted to be a Von Trapp. Does The Nightmare Before Christmas and The Last Unicorn count as musicals? Probably not.

5. Who was your first celebrity crush?

See #1, since I think Davy Jones was it. I was about 8, and little did I know that the television program I was watching was, in fact, a rerun of a show whose heyday was about twenty-ish years earlier. He was dreamy, though. That bowl cut got me every time.


6. Who is the most embarrassing celebrity on whom you have a slight crush today?

Lil Wayne and James McAvoy. I’m don't get it either. I guess I'm a woman of many contradictions.


7. What movie that everyone else and his cousin and even his dog has seen have you never seen?

A TON. I’ve never seen The Godfather (or any of its sequels), Schindler’s List, Scarface, Saving Private Ryan, any of the Saw franchise; the list goes on and on. I’ve never seen Dirty Dancing all the way through, nor have I watched all of Pretty Woman, either.

Movies bore me, since I feel glued to the screen for at least two hours and I can’t do anything else while I’m watching it. Movies kinda make me feel like I’m slowly dying, since I’m passively watching minutes tick away while not doing anything productive, like surfing the internet and checking my site stats.

How’s that for a downer?

Anyway.

8. What were you drinking the first time you ever got drunk?

Either a 40 of Old English or bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. I rolled tough back in the day. Maybe that explains my current crush on Wheezy? Hm.



9. Which old re-run will you still pause to watch if you’re flicking through the channels and see that it’s on?

I don't usually watch reruns, because what's the point, really? But I still love Seinfeld reruns, and even some old Buffy episodes when I find them. I love Blind Date reruns, too. I'm sure there's others, but I generally ignore TV and film - the internet is my biggest time-waster.

10. What book/movie/t.v. show that only a fifteen-year-old would think is funny makes you laugh?

Silly movies, like Shaun of the Dead, Super Troopers, Half Baked, etc. always make me laugh. Naked by David Sedaris sends me into convulsions. I'm sure there's been others but it's difficult for me to remember.

One mistake...and nothing else you ever do will matter

Snuff
Chuck Palahniuk

WARNING: PROFANITY AHEAD

For some reason I keep giving this fucker a chance. And I know why, too: Fight Club.

Not Fight Club the book, mind you; Fight Club the movie -- which isn't even the same thing, I know. But a little nagging voice in the back of my head says that the mind who produced Tyler Durden must not be all that bad, so he's gotta produce something else good soon.

WELL I WAS FUCKING WRONG.

I was going to try to review Snuff, Palahniuk's latest abortion, objectively, or at least dispassionately, but it's not going to happen. The further and further I advanced into the book, the angrier I became that I bought this turd.

I HAVE TO START USING THE LIBRARY.

But really: joke's on me, you know? And boy, it's a good one.

Oh, wait: you want to hear a bit about the book, do you? Sure. Here you go: cunt, pussy, money shot, clit, dick, cum, whatever -- those "shocking" terms are pretty much as deep as Snuff gets. And I have no objection to such terms, or to books about the porn industry, or even the porn industry itself, so long as everyone's consenting and all that -- but I DO object to shitty writing, and Snuff's got that in spades.

What's worse, it coulda been so much better. The prose hardly varies from narrator to narrator (Snuff is narrated by four wonderful individuals -- three of whom are waiting in a line of 600 men to gang-bang porn star Cassie Wright), and the characters themselves have all the depth of a wet piece of toilet paper.

However, it matters little that the voice sounds the same regardless of which character is doing the narrating, because the chapter titles tell us which character has taken the helm. Whew! Thanks, Chuck! Otherwise, we'd never have known. Worse than the lack of individual voice, though, is the writing itself, which is just plain AWFUL. Grammar -- what's that? Why write sentences that make sense? Perhaps Palahniuk is simply pandering to the intellectual level of his fans (who must be boys under 16 years of age), and so figures that writing grammatically correct sentences isn't necessary.

In a nutshell: I gotta start selling some of this shit -- maybe I should finally join Bookmooch? I mean, I gotta do something. I'M TIRED OF BUYING TURDS, GODDAMMIT.

Well, now. THIS one put me in a bad mood, eh?

Bibliolatry Scale: 1 out of 6

Sunday Shopping

I decided to splure on some books today (odd, I know; I never do that), so look for these titles at some point soon.

African Psycho, Alain Mabanckou
Elephants on Acid: And Other Bizarre Experiments, Alex Boese
Death by Black Hole: And Other Cosmic Quandaries, Neil deGrasse Tyson
The French Lieutenant's Woman, John Fowles
Then We Came to the End, Joshua Ferris
No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy
Strike Sparks: Selected Poems, 1980-2002, Sharon Olds
The Penguin Book of the Sonnet, Various, Phillis Levin (Editor)

Sunday Sonnet

via The Guardian:


SONNET
by Billy Collins

All we need is fourteen lines, well, thirteen now,
and after this next one just a dozen
to launch a little ship on love's storm-tossed seas,
then only ten more left like rows of beans.
How easily it goes unless you get Elizabethan
and insist the iambic bongos must be played
and rhymes positioned at the ends of lines,
one for every station of the cross.
But hang on here while we make the turn
into the final six where all will be resolved,
where longing and heartache will find an end,
where Laura will tell Petrarch to put down his pen,
take off those crazy medieval tights,
blow out the lights, and come at last to bed.

There was something so pleasant about that phase

Shutter Island
Dennis Lehane

It's 1954 and US Marshal Teddy Daniels heads to Shutter Island, just off the coast of Boston. He and his new partner, Chuck, are assigned to locate a missing person. It's not just any missing person's case, however: this one comes with a twist.

Shutter Island is home to the Ashecliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane, and the missing person in question is Rachel Solando, an extremely violent and delusional individual who murdered her three children. Her escape, however, is right out of a movie: she escaped from a locked room and a hospital full of employees onto the rocky, uneven terrain of the island -- all while wearing no shoes. Repeated searches for Solando turn up nothing, and time is of the essence. A hurricane is bearing down on the island, leaving communication and retreat impossible.

That something is not-quite-right on the island is clear from the beginning. We follow the two Marshals as they investigate the events preceding and following Solando's escape. They face quite a challenge, as well: in addition to the improbable nature of the patient's escape, the Marshals are often stonewalled by the doctors and staff. They know the hospital specializes in experimental treatments, although the nature of these experiments is unknown. Soon the investigation changes from "What, exactly, happened to Rachel Solando?" to "What, exactly, is happening on Shutter Island?"

It takes awhile to unravel the secret, but when the truth came out, I was satisfied. I knew something wasn't kosher, but I didn't see the ending coming, always a good sign. Is the ending contrived, as many have said? I don't think so -- not any more than the usual mystery. I left Shutter Island quite pleased with the experience.

Many argue Shutter Island is the weakest of Lehane's novels (those who say so feel that Mystic River is his strongest), but, as this was my introduction to Lehane, I had no preconceived notions about the quality of his work. I didn't find the plot implausible as many did, since it's clear from the beginning that the hospital deals with experimental treatments; in that context, that which would normally be unbelievable becomes believable (I won't say more so as not to spoil the fun).

In a nutshell: Overall, Shutter Island was an enthralling way to pass a day. It may not be perfect, but it was a fast, thrilling read that kept me glued to my chair until I finished it. I'll definitely read more by Dennis Lehane.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Apt

MAY DAY
by Phillis Levin

I've decided to waste my life again,
Like I used to: get drunk on
The light in the leaves, find a wall
Against which something can happen,

Whatever may have happened
Long ago—let a bullet hole echoing
The will of an executioner, a crevice
In which a love note was hidden,

Be a cell where a struggling tendril
Utters a few spare syllables at dawn.
I've decided to waste my life
In a new way, to forget whoever

Touched a hair on my head, because
It doesn't matter what came to pass,
Only that it passed, because we repeat
Ourselves, we repeat ourselves.

I've decided to walk a long way
Out of the way, to allow something
Dreaded to waken for no good reason,
Let it go without saying,

Let it go as it will to the place
It will go without saying: a wall
Against which a body was pressed
For no good reason, other than this.

New Additions

I've finally done what I've been avoiding for months.

The following links will take you to the culmination of several hours of mind-numbing html-ing: an alphabetical index of authors and an index of titles. You can also find links to these lists above the search box on the right.


Enjoy!


Alphabetical Index of Authors

Alphabetical Index of Titles

No time for OCD

Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity
Kerry Cohen

Like all bibliophiles, I have my pet peeves when it comes to books. One such peeve involves the dust jackets which accompany hardcover books. In general I find them annoying, and never do I read with them on -- they get all flimsy and wonky and they're just generally a pain in the ass. Needless to say, immediately upon reading a hardcover book, the first thing I do is remove the dust jacket and store it atop a bookshelf in my library. Priorities, and all that.

Beginning my review of Kerry Cohen's Loose Girl with a discussion of dust jackets is actually pretty important, and I'm going to tell you why. My copy of Loose Girl arrived in the mail yesterday, and I decided to read just the first page before putting it aside to resume my other reading. That's all it took, however. I was hooked. I read ALL of it in one sitting - and never stopped to remove the dust jacket.

Clearly, that's saying something.

I could throw around the usual adjectives -- compelling, fascinating, gripping -- but I think the fact that I didn't stop to assuage my OCD is a clear illustration of the power of Cohen's memoir.

Cohen was the girl that we all loved to gossip about. She was, to put it lightly, a bit of a slut. Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity is Cohen's attempt to explain her behavior, her all-encompassing need to feel loved that found an outlet only through sex. She doesn't play the "woe-is-me" card -- far from it. She scrutinizes (and, more importantly, owns) her behavior even as she traces its roots in her childhood and in her parents.

Written in the present tense, Loose Girl has an immediacy that allows the reader to feel exactly what Cohen was experiencing in those moments. In fact, her prose allowed (although "forced" is more apt) me to relive all the anxiety and expectation involved with the opposite sex when I was young and insecure.

Over time, Cohen comes to understand the roots of her behavior and what, exactly, she is really seeking in her encounters with men. While the majority of Loose Girl is an unflinching dissection of her loose behavior, Cohen ends on a hopeful note when she finally breaks the cycle of promiscuity and finds strength in herself, not in the attention of men.

In a nutshell: Cohen's memoir is well written and utterly fascinating. All readers (male and female alike) can surely find a piece of themselves in Loose Girl.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

Books don't always have to make perfect sense, you know?

The Book of Air and Shadows
Michael Gruber

I entered The Book of Air and Shadows with a feeling of doom, because it came to me via the same person who gave me both Michael Crichton’s State of Fear and Next. Needless to say, my hopes were low. Still, a free book is a free book, and The Book of Air and Shadows *does* concern Shakespeare, so I decided to keep an open mind and see what this Michael had to offer.

I’m glad I did, because I really enjoyed The Book of Air and Shadows. It’s a little preposterous in places -- and, at times, even downright silly -- but it was nevertheless an enjoyable read. It’s odd that a reader can recognize silliness in a book and yet still find it enjoyable, but that’s what we have here. Allow me to explain.

Usually when reviewing a book, I try to focus on content as opposed to effect -- content is arguably more important, involving as it does such important devices like depth and form and characterization and so on. A book’s effect is much more subjective and less definable, as it varies from reader to reader. What works for one falls flat for another, even as readers of all tastes can recognize the literary merit of a piece. (Case in point: Jane Austen. As far as content goes, she’s brilliant, sure -- but nevertheless she bores me to tears. Sorry, Austen fans. Believe me, I’ve tried to love her. It’s not happening.)

Anyway, this discussion about the difference between content and effect is important because, despite feeling that the content of The Book of Air and Shadows is utterly ludicrous, I absolutely loved every second of it.

The Book of Air and Shadows is billed as a literary thriller, as several characters are involved in a chase for what could be a lost play of Shakespeare’s written in his own hand. Obviously finding such a manuscript would change the literary world forever, so there are lots of car chases, gun fights, mysterious disappearances, and the like as everyone and their mother (literally) tries to be the first to lay hands on the document. Nevermind that the manuscript might not even be real. It could all be an elaborate hoax, and the lines between truth and fiction are further blurred as red herrings are strewn along the storyline and lies pile upon lies.

The story begins as Jake Mishkin, an intellectual property lawyer, hunkers down in a remote cabin, awaiting Russian gangsters to descend upon him.

The gangster in question?

In the meantime, he bears his soul in an effort to come clean not only about his involvement in the Shakespeare affair but also about the sins of his personal life, most of which involve his philandering ways.

Soon, however, the story shifts to one Albert Crosetti, a clerk who works in the basement of a store that sells old and rare books. Crosetti is not enamored of literature, however; he’s simply paying bills until he can make it to film school, as he’s obsessed with movies and the effect they have on our lives. He hopes to make a great movie one day – until a fire in the neighboring building causes him to find an ancient manuscript, a manuscript which alludes to a lost Shakespearean play.

Suddenly Crosetti, together with Carolyn Rolly, his mysterious (and not entirely trustworthy) coworker, finds himself at the center of a literary mystery as he tries to track down the manuscript. Things get dangerous, people start dying, gangsters appear, and the whole situation becomes more than a little improbable. The effect, however, was dazzling, and as preposterous as The Book of Air and Shadows seemed at times, I COULDN’T PUT IT DOWN.

The Book of Air and Shadows was the perfect blend of mystery, thrills, and information, as Gruber bestows tidbits of intellectual law and code-making along the way. We are also given further insight into the politics of Shakespeare's age, which adds further learnin' to an otherwise fanciful read.

In a nutshell: Fun, exciting, and fast-paced, The Book of Air and Shadows is dazzling even if it doesn't always make the best of sense.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars