Font this

Recently, The Millions posted a thought-provoking piece by Garth Risk Hallberg, who discussed the effect of the font on the text he's reading. I've noticed myself that some newer publications have chosen more modern, funky fonts than the usual standbys. Hallberg finds some font choices distracting, and I happen to agree, although I'm hard-pressed to name a title now when it matters.

Still, Hallberg raises some interesting points, and I'd like to know your thoughts.

Specifically, I'd like you to answer two questions: (1) As a reader, do you find uncommon fonts distracting? and (2) As a writer, which font do you prefer to use?

Boundless Love

The Dragonfly Secret: A Story of Boundless Love
Clea and John Adams

I’ve never before reviewed a children’s book, so when I had the opportunity to read The Dragonfly Secret, I couldn’t resist. I didn’t know that The Dragonfly Secret was a follow-up to an earlier book, The Dragonfly Door, but it didn’t matter. The Dragonfly Secret stands easily on its own and is a great story for children, especially those who have recently lost a loved one.

The Dragonfly Secret follows Lea, a dragonfly, as she plays in a garden one day. Lea is surprised by the presence of a young boy, who spends some time playing with her. Soon, he gives Lea a task that only she can complete. Lea is puzzled by his request but eager to do what he says, especially since he tells her that she will help with a secret.

The boy and Lea at play

Lea is not quite sure how she will complete the boy’s vague requests, but soon two adults arrive in the garden who are connected to the boy’s tasks. She is able to follow his instructions – with surprising results. Lea learns that that the boy’s special requests had an important purpose and that her role was an integral one.

The Dragonfly Secret is a perfect story for all children, but especially those who have recently lost a loved one. The story comforts children by assuring them that life goes on. Just as importantly, The Dragonfly Secret is neatly told and never difficult to read. Furthermore, Barbara Gibson's beautiful illustrations (one of which you can see above) heighten the beauty of this book. These illustrations are colorful and alive, but never jarring or overly complicated.

In a nutshell: Easy to read with bright, colorful pictures, The Dragonfly Secret is a story that offers comfort as it entertains.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Look at tomorrow, not yesterday

Months and Seasons
Christopher Meeks

Who hasn't effed up royally? Cut off your nose to spite your face? Who hasn't done the one dumb thing you told yourself not to do? If these scenarios do not apply to you, then, well...piss off. But certainly you're familiar with disappointment, fear, loss?

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, Months and Seasons is worth a read. The characters who populate these stories are all quite diverse, and yet they all share one important trait: whether they know it or not, they all face a crossroads in their lives.

Many of these characters can only blame themselves for the problems currently facing them, but all of them -- even those at the mercy of fate -- can control how they react to their problems. And while the problems facing these characters are as diverse as their personalities, they all, generally speaking, respond similarly: that is, they go on. (That's not to say that they "go on" in the best possible way, but such is life. These characters, just like people, do not always make the best decisions.)

There’s Tutti, a seventeen-year-old teen whose divorcing parents have shipped her off to summer camp, despite her age. Then there’s Hugh, whose wife wants a child – even though he's less than ready. In another, a talented playwright loses his home to fire, and still another sees several characters facing potentially fatal illnesses.

Just as the problems facing Meeks' characters vary from story to story, so too does his writing style -- something that highlights Meeks' talents as a writer. I particularly enjoyed that the narrative voice truly changed to reflect the change in point of view and narrative voice, and upon beginning a new story, I believed I had encountered a different storyteller than the one who came before. Equally important is the fact that these stories vary in tone; some are serious, while others are more humorous. My favorite narrator was Frank Philo, the troubled narrator of “The Holes in my Door,” a deft little tale that allows the reader greater insight than is bestowed upon the narrator.

With the exception of the eminent playwright, Months and Seasons does not recount the lives of famous or otherwise "grand" individuals -- these are everyday people, caught up in the months and seasons of their lives. These are flawed characters, and not all of them are likable, but readers can learn a little something from each of them.

In a nutshell: Deftly written, not a word in Months and Seasons is wasted; these stories recount tiny moments of glory in even the most ordinary of lives.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

SONNET MACABRE
by Theodore Wratislaw


I love you for the grief that lurks within
Your languid spirit, and because you wear
Corruption with a vague and childish air,
And with your beauty know the depths of sin;

Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,
And virtue dies in you slain by despair,
Since evil has you tangled in its snare
And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.

I love you since you know remorse and tears,
And in your troubled loveliness appears
The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:

I love you for your hands that calm and bless,
The perfume of your sad and slow caress,
The avid poison of your subtle kiss.

The best is yet to be?

The Development
John Barth

My latest review has appeared over at Pajiba, and I thought some of you might just be interested enough (or bored enough, here on a Friday) to head over and read it.

This time I read John Barth's new collection of short stories, The Development. You may click here to read my review.

In a nutshell: Quick, entertaining, and, oddly enough, moving -- even though thoughts of dry, elderly poon did make me feel a little icky inside.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6

Filling leisure intelligently

Bertrand Russell said that "To be able to fill leisure intelligently is the last product of civilization, and at present very few people have reached this level."

At first I automatically lumped myself in with the proud and few, as I spend much of my leisure time reading. Then I remembered how many hours I waste perusing Oh No They Didn't! and realized that perhaps boasting about my highly evolved nature was a bit premature.

Readers, I'd like to hear how you spend your "intelligent" leisure time -- apart from reading good books and Bibliolatry, of course. How do you fill leisure intelligently?

Sunday Sonnet

Here is the second part to last week's sonnet.

II. AND AFTER
by Hugh Cuthbert


Where all was Eden, all is Eden-less.
The Garden vanished--earth and sea and sky,
The sunbeams, flowers--even as you and I
All sundered stand in stricken loneliness;
The tangled Paradise a wilderness
Of ordered isolations! The great soul,
Which made of all things one harmonious whole,
Shredded to serve the fragments which caress
The separate being they curse! Nought but the Gate
Remains--fronting our Life as day by day
It seeks the happiness it cast away
To snatch a venomed knowledge. Alas! stern fate--
To find its own discarded innocence
Become a flaming sword to drive it thence.

Snakebox Surprise

I was pleasantly surprised yesterday upon receiving a thoughtful email from none other than Kim Powers, star of Wednesday's post about his novel, Capote in Kansas.

Kim was kind enough to enclose some photographs of the real snakeboxes that Capote constructed toward the end of his life. He found these pictures in the online catalogue of Bonham's, the auction house which is selling some of Capote's things.

Hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

A mind of winter

I recently subscribed to The New-York Ghost, a free newsletter that, every once in awhile, arrives via email. The most recent offering contained a poem by Aimee Kelley that I couldn't help but save and reread again and again. I post it here, which is hopefully not a violation of some sort.

At any rate, if you like what you see, you can subscribe (it's free) to The New-York Ghost by sending an email to newyorkghostATgmailDOTcom.



Dick Cheney’s home is only visible
in winter. Those months he sits
underground dreaming

of camouflage, tree leaves, and heavy
boughs. He weeps, stain on his pocket
square. Upstairs his wife

plays piano, completes paint by
numbers, one after another, each brighter
than the last. She neglects

the housekeeping, waves over her
tea at tourists outside in this, her favorite
season. Below, he wanders

by flashlight, running a finger across
lids of preserves, opening orange, never
strawberry. Sitting on water

drums, potable, he eats astronaut
ice cream, testing how slowly he
can chew. He hears snow

falling on his driveway and melting
in a moment. To have a mind of winter,
he thinks. A breach.

—Aimee Kelley

Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor

Capote in Kansas: A Ghost Story
Kim Powers

Today, I have the pleasure of hosting the latest stop on Kim Powers’ Virtual Book Tour for his novel, Capote in Kansas.

Capote in Kansas recounts the odd friendship between Truman Capote and Harper Lee. After the success of both of their novels, the friendship between Capote and Lee fell apart. Rumors abound (no thanks to Capote himself, as Powers posits) that Lee’s success owes more than a little to Capote’s efforts, and Capote has become obsessed with fame and celebrity, to say nothing of his obsession with drugs and alcohol.

Capote in Kansas begins as Capote, addled by booze and pills and haunted by the ghosts of the Clutter family (the victims Capote detailed in In Cold Blood), places a late-night phone call to his old friend. Lee, who hasn’t spoken to Capote in years, is forced to remember both the ups and downs of their friendship, which spanned their childhood in the South to their adulthood in the public eye.

Capote in Kansas is less a literal ghost story than a psychological one. The Clutter ghosts allow both Capote and Lee to return to their respective pasts and ponder where they went wrong, although Capote, numbed as he is, is less introspective than Lee. As Capote's instability increases, he begins constructing bizarre boxes, which he then anonymously sends to a disturbed Lee.

With Capote in Kansas, Powers, currently a writer/producer at ABC’s Primetime Live and a winner of both Emmy and Peabody Awards for his 9/11 coverage for Good Morning America, offers a fast-paced read that never drags. Although I could quibble about his tendency to overindulge in short, one-sentence paragraphs, I found his pacing perfect and the storyline gripping. Furthermore, I learned fascinating details about both of these authors, neither of whom I knew much about besides their most famous works.

In his end note, Powers explains how he blended fact and fiction, and I was surprised to read that some of the more fantastic elements of Capote in Kansas (such as the "snake boxes" constructed by Capote towards the end of his life) were, in fact, true. If you would like to read the first chapter of Capote in Kansas, simply click here; to visit more stops on this Virtual Book Tour, just click here.

In a nutshell: Intriguing and informative, Capote in Kansas entertained me at the same time it educated me about two pivotal American authors.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

I. BEFORE
by Hugh Cuthbert


All the world was Eden once, you know,
And Paradise was ours everywhere;
No jealous hedge joy's limits to declare,
No sullen wall our Garden-bounds to show;
No thorns did then beneath the roses grow,
And winter's blast was as a dream-love's kiss--
A lightsome rapture; every task a bliss
Sweet-laden as the air where lilies blow.
For I was all of Eden to you then,
And you were all of Paradise to me,
And each in other all the world were we,
Till, drenched in golden love-light, we again
Love-lavish, flung its spell o'er everything,
And Nature's self lay 'witched within the ring.

Favorite literary villains

In lieu of a review (I'm swamped over here), I offer you a link I've been sitting on for awhile.

The Telegraph has compiled a list of the 50 greatest villains in all literature -- a subjective list, as all such lists are (including the last one, which involved those classics not to read before you die).

Go here to read the full list; then, consider your own favorite villains.

Some of my favorite literary villains are Dracula, the nurse from The Turn of the Screw, the pigs from Animal Farm, HH from Lolita (some may argue Quilty is the true villain but this is my list, dammit, so step off), and Montresor from Poe's story "The Cask of Amontillado."

So, my question to you: Who are your favorite literary villains?

Almondine, I love you

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle
David Wroblewski

My latest review for Pajiba has appeared, and this time I read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, Oprah's latest book club pick. I heeded her advice and deliberately ignored the book jacket; as a result, it wasn't long before I found myself in awe of the story that followed.

You may click here to read my review.

In a nutshell: Not perfect, but close enough for me.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Sunday Sonnet

GLUT
by Gerald Stern


The whole point was getting rid of glut
for which I starved myself and lived with the heat down
and only shaved oh every five days and used
a blunt razor for months so that my cheek
was not only red but the hair was bent not cut
for which I then would be ready for the bicycle
and the broken wrist, for which—oh God—I would be
ready to climb the steps and fight the boxes
with only nothing, a pair of shoes, and once
inside to open the window and let the snow in
and when the fire was over climb down the icy
fire escape and drop the last twenty
feet with notebooks against my chest, bruises
down one side of my body, fresh blood down the other.



(sonnet courtesy of poets.org)

everyone's a little to blame for everything

Who by Fire
Diana Spechler

I'll be upfront and say right away that I didn't expect to enjoy Who By Fire as much as I did. When I read the cover blurb, I expected a story that bordered on trite, another run-of-the-mill story of a family torn apart by tragedy and reunited through misadventures.

Who By Fire may be the story of a family torn apart by tragedy and reunited through misadventures, but to write it off as being trite or run-of-the-mill is to do a disservice to a truly wonderful novel. I received a review copy in the mail and expected to consider reading it (as I often consider books given to me to review) a chore that distracts me from my "real" reading. I read the opening pages and was immediately shocked.

I did not expect to be so captivated.

Before I knew it, my school work fell neglected, my bookbag unopened. (That's what early starts are for, anyway...right?) The spooky read that had been so entertaining me lay forgotten on my nightstand. More surprising still, I found myself reading despite husband watching hours of television (at high volume, of course), but so engrossed was I that I tore through the novel without even looking up. The next day in school, I read while my students wrote an essay, even though that time would have been more productively spent marking papers. It didn't matter. I had to know what was going to happen.

I finished Who By Fire in record time, surprising for a review copy I hadn't even planned to enjoy.

Now that you know it enthralled me, I'll tell you a little about it -- but beware, however, that it truly transcends summary, for the blurb on the back of the book didn't come close to doing it justice. Here, I'll even copy it here:

Bits and Ash were children when the kidnapping of their younger sister, Alena — an incident for which Ash blames himself — caused an irreparable family rift. Thirteen years later, Ash is living as an Orthodox Jew in Israel, cutting himself off from his mother, Ellie, and his wild-child sister, Bits. But soon he may have to face them again; Alena's remains have finally been uncovered. Now Bits is traveling across the world in a bold and desperate attempt to bring her brother home and salvage what's left of their family. Sharp and captivating, Who by Fire deftly explores what happens when people try to rescue one another.

But Who By Fire is more than this; it's both poignant and yet laugh-out-loud funny, informative and yet entertaining. Spechler tackles what tears a family apart as well as what brings them together, what drives people to religion and others away from it. Simply put, however, Who By Fire is a wonderful novel that doesn't need to be classified in any of the above ways.

Who By Fire shines for other reasons as well. As someone woefully ignorant about Judaism, I found the passages concerning Ash's life incredibly informative. Never did Spechler bore the reader with unnecessary details, and informative details were deftly woven into the storyline so that they blended seamlessly, without seeming plunked in or heavy-handed. The character of Bits also attests to Spechler's talents as a writer, for Bits, a character that could so easily fall into cliche, remains fresh, dynamic, and entirely life-like. However, the honor of being my favorite character has to go to their mother, Ellie. She brought a warmth and humor to the novel that propelled me onward, as I often couldn't wait to reach the next chapter she narrated.

If I had to nitpick, I might argue that the novel's end is too neat and tidy, but I'd be lying if I said I wanted it to end any other way. After reading about these characters for so long, I'd come to truly care for them, and the ending left me satisfied and content. Although such an ending probably wouldn't happen in reality, I wouldn't have been happy if Who By Fire ended any other way.

In a nutshell: Who By Fire is immensely readable, surprisingly profound, and totally enjoyable. I look forward to Spechler's next endeavor.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars