Poop or get off the pot

African Psycho
Alain Mabanckou

Shh. Listen. Can you hear that?

That's the sound of me tearing through another title in my reading resolution. Woot. Woot. Although, to be fair, this was an easy one: Mabanckou's African Psycho is a slim book at a little over 150 pages.

African Psycho, as one might expect, is the African version of American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. However, unlike Patrick Bateman, who had a thirst for murder and (may have) racked up more than a few bodies, Gregoire Nakobomayo is more a murderer in thought than in deed.

You see, Gregoire wants to kill, but somehow never manages to do so. He wants more than anything to please the soul of his dead idol, the serial killer known as Angoualima. Gregoire visits Angoualima's grave frequently, and imagines the ghost of his idol berating him for his failed attempts at infamy. Vowing to please his idol at last, Gregoire plans to kill his girlfriend by the end of the year.

Murdering his girlfriend will have another important effect than just getting Gregoire in Angoualima's good graces: it will help him be somebody and do something important. Gregoire imagines that murdering his prostitute girlfriend will actually benefit his city in the end.

Unfortunately, it's Gregoire himself who gets in his way. As one might have guessed, our poor narrator thinks too much and as a result does very little. Consequently, African Psycho is a frequently humorous, if not entirely violent, novel.

In a nutshell: Psychological and philosophical, African Psycho is intriguing but not necessarily enjoyable. The disappointing ending prevented it from being a solid four stars.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.5 out of 6 stars

Trying to be a good person, one review at a time

I Never Saw Paris: A Novel of the Afterlife
Harry Freund

Oh, brother. What to say about this book that won't make me sound like an asshole? In the spirit of Christian fellowship (much like the focus of I Never Saw Paris), I'm going to try to say 10 nice things about this book.

1. I Never Saw Paris is part of my 2009 reading resolution.

2. I Never Saw Paris is a really quick read.

3. I Never Saw Paris concerns the immediate afterlife of five people who perish in an accident.

4. I Never Saw Paris reminds us to love one another and to enjoy every minute of our lives.

5. I Never Saw Paris cautions us that every action, no matter how innocuous this action may seem, has a consequence.

6. I Never Saw Paris teaches us that even not-so-admirable individuals have redeeming characteristics.

7. I didn't pay for I Never Saw Paris.

8. . . . .Let's see . . . . . number 8. . . . . .


Okay, I can't do it. I can't quit carbs, I can't run for longer than two minutes at a time, and I can't say more than 7 good things about this book. If I may, though, I'd like to point out some not-so-good things:

1. What could be an intriguing story is undermined by overly simple writing.

2. Cliches abound.

3. I'm a little uncomfortable with the notion that gay men are not truly men, especially when Brett, the gay character, bemoans his being born with the heart of a "softhearted, warm, and cuddly girl" instead of having "a bald head, big ears. . . .and the heart and soul of a man." Alrighty, then. . .

4. Also, the book just kinda sucked all-around. How in the hell did it get so many five-star reviews on Amazon.com??

Look: the book's heart is in the right place, but I just didn't feel the telling was a particularly good one.

In a nutshell: While I may not have enjoyed the book, Freund's point is a valid one: We never know when the reaper will come a'knockin, so stop being a douchebag while there's still time.

Bibliolatry Scale: 1 out of 6 stars

And the winner is...

Congratulations to Olive Kitteridge, the winner of the 2009 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction.

I received Olive Kitteridge as an ARC a year ago, and I was amazed by what was truly an unexpected gem.

Click here to read my review.

No easy answers here

The Book of Revelation
Rupert Thomson

This far in my reading resolution, I've somehow avoided works by those authors whose names appear toward the end of the alphabet. Seeking to balance things out, I picked up Thomson's The Book of Revelation. I was surprised to find this book such a mind-blowing read.

Here's what I knew going into the novel: a man goes out for cigarettes. Instead of reaching his destination, he is instead kidnapped. Obviously, his life is forever changed.

The reality, however, is much, much more unsettling. He is held for eighteen days by three women whose faces are never revealed to him. They abuse, rape, and mutilate him repeatedly during his captivity. And then, without warning, he is released, returned to life.

Except, of course, returning to life will not be that easy.

He becomes obsessed with his captors, intent on finding them and having his revenge. Knowing only their nakedness, not their faces, he goes to extreme lengths to learn whether each woman who has crossed his path is innocent or not. The result demonstrates the effects of violence both on the individual and on society at large.

The Book of Revelation is a simple enough read, but is one that stays with you for a time after it's finished. Be warned that it's disturbing, but quite powerful. I came to care for our nameless narrator and know that -- somewhere, somehow -- he's found peace at last.

In a nutshell: Intense, disturbing, and gripping...The Book of Revelation won't easily be forgotten. The narrator's captivity and abuse is only a small portion of the novel, so readers shouldn't be dissuaded from reading based on this aspect of the novel.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

We are all the same human beings with the same potential to be good

The Blonde on the Train
Eleanor Lerman

My latest review for Pajiba is up, and this time I had the pleasure of reviewing The Blonde on the Train, the latest collection of short fiction from award-winning poet Eleanor Lerman.

The Blonde on the Train is different from my usual reading fare, but Lerman's prose is relatable and enjoyable. You may read my full review here.

In a nutshell: An intriguing collection of stories, The Blonde on the Train reminds us that we're more alike than we are different.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time

Then We Came to the End
Joshua Ferris

Once upon a time, I worked in an office. It was the most depressing, most soul-crushing, most horrible time of my life. The seconds passed like hours, the days like weeks. I often had no work to do, yet had to appear busy (which is more difficult than it sounds, trust me). Everyone was miserable. The only relief came during those ten blissful minutes during which I tramped outside for a smoke break. In fact, even writing these few short sentences is enough to bring this time back in all its depressing glory. That's why I'm surprised to find I liked Then We Came to the End as much as I did. Although it often struck too close to home, it is truly, as The New Yorker said, a "masterwork of pitch and tone."

Then We Came to the End is both comic and tragic, both uplifting and utterly depressing. If you've spent time in an office, you'll understand how this can be so, and so you'll recognize yourself in these pages. If you've never worked in an office -- you're quite lucky, aren't you? -- allow Ferris to take you on a tour of the life that could have been yours. True, such a life is filled with moments of humor (gossip, interoffice intrigue, the occasional anecdote that helps to lighten a day), but it is often filled with moments of pain, as well, as interoffice politics, layoffs, and a general malaise abound.

Then We Came to the End follows several characters who work in an ad agency, but this novel is not so much about these characters as it is about the effect office life has on the soul. To this end, Ferris employs the first-person plural, a corporate We, if you will. This technique doesn't feel old or overdone, and it's a testament to Ferris' skill as a writer that he is able to maintain this voice for the duration of the novel (except for a short divagation to the third person in the middle). I was surprised by how connected I felt to these characters both as a group and as individuals. Although I'm not counting Then We Came to the End among the best books I've ever read, I'm glad I had the experience.

(Note: Because of the monster Drood, Then We Came to the End is the first entry in April's reading resolution.)

In a nutshell: Full of humor and pathos, Then We Came to the End lives up to the hype.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Dan Simmons, I heart you

Drood
Dan Simmons

That's it. I need a Kindle. Like, now. I suddenly feel a need to read everything ever written by Dan Simmons -- and, considering his propensity for the lengthy novel, I'm thinking the Kindle is the way to go.

My introduction to Dan Simmons came with The Terror, a book I fully expected to dislike, seeing as how it involved, of all things, boats. Mention boats and I simply cannot...stay...awa -- zzzzzzzzz. See? It happened again. Except that Dan Simmons makes boats interesting. Compelling, even.

As soon as I learned of his latest novel, Drood, I knew I was in for a similar treat. This time, Simmons turns his well-researched eye to those famous frenemies, Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins. Mr. Billy Wilkie Collins is our esteemed narrator, and a more entertaining narrator -- if not a more reliable one -- couldn't be found. Wilkie's tale will force readers to consider what is real, and what is illusion. While posing that question, however, thrills and chills are encountered in droves.

Just as in The Terror, Drood centers on a real-life event that Simmons then meticulously explores, adding a supernatural twist along the way. The event in question is the Staplehurst rail crash of June 1865, which Dickens survived. On this day, the first seven carriages of the Staplehurst train plunged off a bridge -- only the carriage in which Dickens was riding was safe. Dickens, who aided the wounded and dying immediately after the accident, was never the same after this day.

Simmons uses the Staplehurst accident as the backbone of Drood, injecting the spectral figure of Drood himself into the wreckage of the crash. Who -- or what -- is this Drood? What does he want? I could tell you, Dear Reader, but you'll have much more fun if you find out for yourself.

Clearly, Drood's a pimp --
beyond that, I'm keeping mum

I've heard some claim that Drood is good, but not as good as The Terror. I disagree. I think it's equally as good -- if not better. I loved everything about this big behemoth.

In a nutshell: It's long, yes, but every single page is worth it. Dan Simmons, if we weren't both married, I'd be a' comin for you.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars

Reading Resolution: March Update

I didn't do so well on my reading resolution this month. Why? Two words: LOST and Drood. I've decided to finally -- five seasons into the show -- start watching the former, as they are all streamed for free online at abc.com. The latter is good, but time consuming, especially when one spends all her time watching, say, the first season of an immensely intriguing tv show.

So, alas, my numbers are low.

DuMaurier, Rebecca
Lehane, Mystic River
Moore, Fool
O'Nan, Songs for the Missing

(Don't forget that I also read a great ARC this month, Darling Jim, which doesn't count toward my resolution, but it was so good I couldn't put it down. It's due out in print this month, so check it out!)

RESOLUTION TITLES READ IN MARCH: 4

TOTAL TITLES READ IN MARCH: 5

CURRENT RESOLUTION PROGRESS: 21/88

TOTAL BOOKS READ IN 2009: 22

Sunday Sonnet

SILENCE
by Edgar Allan Poe


There are some qualities--some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evenced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence--sea and shore--
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man) commend thyself to God!

Intriguing but ephemeral

Songs for the Missing: A Novel
Stewart O'Nan

Stewart O'Nan's Songs for the Missing was March's first book in my reading resolution. It didn't rock my world, but I didn't want to hurl it across the room, either. Songs for the Missing is a melancholy, thoughtful analysis regarding what happens to those left behind after a family member disappears.

The Larsen family is thrown into disarray when Kim, their eighteen-year-old daughter, disappears on her way to work one afternoon. Unfortunately, her family doesn't realize Kim has disappeared until the next morning, and it's not surprising to find that leads are few. Kim is happy, popular, and looking forward to college in the fall: she has no reason to runaway. The search expands when Kim's car is found in a nearby town.

This isn't, however, Kim's novel. Instead, the novel zeroes in on how Kim's parents and her younger sister each cope with the crisis. Her father can't stop searching; her mother organizes the media assault and plans fundraisers; her younger sister tries to find her own place in this new, crazy world.

O'Nan's exploration of how a family is irrevocably changed by the disappearance of a core member was intriguing, but its effect faded quickly. Nearly a month after having read Songs for the Missing, I remember it as thought-provoking but ephemeral. I didn't care too much about any of the characters, and felt rather distanced from and apathetic about their plight. The effect was rather like Gloucester's wanton boys playing with their flies: I was interested in their suffering, but not moved by it.

In a nutshell: Intriguing, but not memorable

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

A king knows what to do and does it

Mystic River
Dennis Lehane

I've heard many good things about Dennis Lehane's Mystic River, and I wasn't worried about liking it due to how much I enjoyed his Shutter Island. Ultimately, I found Mystic River to be a riveting, suspenseful read that was a fast addition to my reading resolution.

The novel begins as three young boys are playing on the streets. A car approaches and stops them -- two men are in the car, claiming to be cops. One boy, who lives across town, gets in the car with them to be taken home to his parents; the other two boys are left behind to walk home. As a result of this obviously bad decision (it's immediately clear these men are not cops, despite the fear that blinds the boys to this fact), the lives of all three are irrevocably changed.

The novel then shifts years ahead to their adulthood, as each man struggles to loosen the effect of that fateful day so long ago. While the three are still local, their paths have diverged, and they are no longer the singular unit they once were. That, however, is about to change: a murder soon reunites them, drawing the three together again to confront both the present and past tragedies.

I suspected different people of different things at different points in the novel, and, while I did anticipate a few twists, the overall denouement was surprising and satisfying. I closed Mystic River with a feeling of content -- if not for the characters, then at least for myself. Now I can see the movie . . . at some point.

In a nutshell: Taut, compelling -- nicely done all around.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Manderley!

Rebecca
Daphne DuMaurier

Despite my glee at April's arrival, I'm grumpy. Why? I didn't purchase a new copy of Rebecca, one of the latest titles in my reading resolution. Instead, I bought a used copy, thinking I wouldn't really care about having an old and used one.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. I've fallen in love with this most-amazing book, and now I'm pissed that I don't own a better copy. Also, I'm angry that I totally sucked on this resolution this month. And, not surprisingly, I'm behind in my reviews.

But I digress.

I feel as though I'm the only one who didn't know the story of Rebecca, so a summary probably isn't necessary. If you're one of the few left alive that hasn't raved about this book, allow me a brief recap: our young narrator has just married the man of her dreams: the rich and mysterious Maxim de Winter. Things aren't so peachy, however, after their return to the de Winter estate, Manderley. Mrs. de Winter finds it impossible to run such a large household, and it seems as though she's doomed to fail. Even worse, the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, seems to hate her, her husband seems to be hiding something, and everywhere she turns, she is haunted by Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter who died a year before. You may think you know what's really going on -- but just wait. The suspense slowly builds until the mysteries of Manderley are unveiled in a stunning, surprise ending.

For years, I had heard Rebecca was good, but I didnt realize it was THAT GOOD. I couldn't put it down. I read while working, during eating -- even in the car (hubby was driving, obviously). Upon finishing the novel, I felt engulfed by the sadness one only feels at the end of a rare, amazing book. I could go on -- in fact, I can't say enough good things about Rebecca -- but now that I'm so far behind in both reading and reviewing, I haven't the time. Suffice it to say, if you haven't yet read this novel, do so immediately -- I can't imagine you'll be disappointed.

In a nutshell: Suspenseful, gorgeously written, utterly un-put-down-able -- Rebecca is a glory of a novel.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars