The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

Dear everyone on the planet,

I'd like to introduce you to one of the most original and bizarre books I've read in a long time. I've been blessed that my recent reading has led me down a path of nothing but great books, but this is wonderful on a whole 'nother level. The feeling I get when thinking about this book reminds me of when I first fell in love with Jeanette Winterson's writing so many years ago. The warm fuzzies, the long nights with my book light trying to sneak in just another page before my wife cries that she can't sleep; it's love.

How can I describe Oscar Wao? We have all known him in one form or another, maybe even in ourselves. He's sad, he's obsessed with Science Fiction (to him, those words are definitely capitalized), he's crazy for girls, and he's all of our nerdiness combined into one. I can finally relax and know that there is someone out there, fictional or not, who hands down makes me look smooth.

Combine the walking disaster that is Oscar Wao with the author's obvious devotion to Science Fiction, his meticulous research of the Dominican Republic, and his mere brilliance with spinning a great yarn. What you get is the perfect blend of exactly what turns me on as a reader. Not only me though. Diaz's first book, Drown, cemented him as a "landmark of contemporary literature." I read an interview with Diaz saying that he is the first critically-acclaimed author out of the Dominican Republic. I'm not sure if this is true, but if he is, others have a hard road to follow. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is marvelous and a joy to read. Allow yourselves to get lost in the footnotes, in the fuku, and in the family. While I thought about it, I'm going to resist the urge to give away the ending. It's my favorite part of the book and made me give Oscar a huge hi5 in the sky for becoming one of the bravest characters in contemporary literature.

Congratulations to Junot Diaz for patching together a pretty seamless novel of epic proportions.

American Youth by Phil Lamarche

I've read two essential yet vastly different American novels lately, American Youth by Phil Lamarche and Wounded by Percival Everett. I pull Everett's novel into this piece solely because both books are stellar examples of what American fiction looks like today. Both are stark and brutal. One tangent in recent fiction advocates simplicity and this works especially well for fiction in this country because I believe we have a desire to pull back from it all and take a deep breath. American Youth goes there. Lamarche demonstrates a unique ability to talk about essentially every small town in America and one huge problem. He links the endemic gun control argument to the specific dynamics of a financially depressed small town. No matter where we are, what city we live in, gun violence affects us all, but there is a difference in how it affects rural populations. Lamarche captures this beautifully and unapologetically. After the shooting the main character, already unintentially flawed by his landscape, becomes desperate. What Lamarche does masterfully is mirror this desperation to the landscape and what arrives for the reader is a reminder of all the hidden places in this country and in our hearts.

For more on my take of Wounded, read the next blog post...

Wounded by Percival Everett

Wounded has to go down as one of my favorite novels this year. My previous post dealt with another newer novel, American Youth. Both stand out as quintessentially American novels and both are excellent examples of where the literary canon is heading in this country. Percival Everett's novel, however, emerges from all the others I've read recently in the way he incorporates landscape and humanity. Wounded is about a small ranching town where peace exists just below the surface until violence descends and starts to tear apart the fabric of the town. It seems to me that this novel is a direct descendant of what happened to Matthew Shephard in Wyoming and might not have existed without that, but what's amazing is that seeing those similarities only makes this novel more devastating. Here's what Everett does best. There are so many themes running through the book; race, homophobia, the human race vs. the natural landscape, violence, our relationships with animals, but it would be impossible to pigeonhole the novel any one way. And who would want to? To do so would be to ignore every other element that makes this book beautiful.

Like Son by Felicia Luna Lemus

I'm finally back! After a couple months of forgetting that I love to read, I'm back! All I can do is jump up and down with ecstatic truth. The first book in is Felicia Luna Lemus's second book, Like Son. I scored a copy of this book at the last AWP conference in Atlanta and have been meaning to read it ever since. Why did I wait this long? Wasn't that conference in something like February? First of all, the thing I love best about this is her incredible attention to detail. For instance, near the beginning of the novel, Lemus describes that palm-sized paper-thin red plastic fish you had when you were a kid. Here's the thing. I had completely forgotten about those fortune-telling fish until I got to page 15 of Like Son, but now I'm having ferocious flashbacks and I want a thousand little red fish to tell me everything that's going to happen in my life.

Lemus also has an acute awareness of grief. Unlike how I (and I suspect, most people) suppress grief and bury it under tons of earth and skin, her main character grieves in a way that is palpable and intense. The novel, in fact, is filled with sadness. I'd hunch that it's the emotion that is the driving force beginning to end. There are moments of beauty, of course, and the sections I described to my wife were the ones that screamed classic love story. However, what I connected with most was the melancholy that ran through the pages.

The other aspect worth mentioning, although I'm not sure I can formulate my thoughts well enough to describe it, is the immigrant experience. Part of the main character's connection to the world, his parents, and his past echoes mine. There's something that happens between a first-generation American and his or her family that you can't fully describe; you can only relate. Felicia Luna Lemus captures this incredibly well and even though you sometimes hate to admit that you feel some kind of deep connection to an imaginary character, such is fiction and it's the sole reason why we want more.

My only disappointment was the last page or two. I was so wrapped up in the novel, so consumed, that I expected more from Lemus. All day today, I've thought about whether or not my want is validated. Did i just want more of the novel? Was it that i just wanted to know what happened to Frank and Nathalie? I realized that it was more than that. Lemus's novel is so strong, tight, and substantial. The last chapter loses that. We're built up and then left hanging and the difference (luckily) between this and the Jason Bourne trilogy is that these characters aren't superheroes with an unlimited life span. All in all, her novel is beautiful and of all the things that could go wrong in a fiction adventure, this is pretty minor. The way I see it, if I can get through a book not wanting to put it down, I figure the author's done more than one thing right.

Read the book for all that it is, as well as for the small amount of what it lacks. Disagree with me about the ending. Don't ask me what the ending is though. If you have to, get yourself a red curling little fish and hope it tells you.

Rant on Rant

I'm finishing the last of Chuck Palahniuk's new novel as another missile of a storm comes rolling through and I can't help but thinking that it's perfect. Not only do I love storms, but I loved his new book, Rant. Palahniuk for me is beach reading. This isn't to dismiss his books as light or frivolous, but rather they are candy. I usually fly through them quick enough to hand them off and grab myself a better edition for my collection.

Rant is a fun book. It's set up as an oral history set up in reverse. Many oral histories are told from a singular viewpoint. Rant, on the other hand, takes that singularity and makes it the subject of memory. I've found most oral histories confined to either the traditions of Southern literature or African-American/African studies. This book is neither, but you can see the influences of generations of living oral history in Palahniuk's new story.

What I found most appealing about is the fact that it's in this book that his skill as an author becomes most apparent. Many writers lose tightness in a structure that deviates from standard, but Palahniuk reigns it in. Rant ends up a strangely diary-like beauty that resonates with vision and darkness, but we can't forget that Palahniuk has once again laced that vision with humor. Expect typical urban settings and violence, but fans will agree that Rant delivers more than usual.

Irvine Welsh in town!

We're all recovering from a late night hosting Irvine Welsh at the Highland Inn. About a hundred folks showed up to celebrate the rare appearance of Welsh in Atlanta. Rare, as in the first. Hubcap City kicked off the night with some great music as well. A Cappella Books has some signed copies of his new book The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs (in both hardcover and paperback), as well as signed paperbacks of Trainspotting and his play, Babylon Heights. Visit A Cappella Books for more information on how to grab a copy.

House of Meetings by Martin Amis

Martin Amis arrived on the scene early in the year with a predictably great novel. House of Meetings is an expansive story set against the tightness of Stalin's Russia. This isn't Amis's first foray into depicting this phase of Russian history. His non-fiction work, Koba the Dread, set the stage for his return to the subject and was hailed as a major contribution to the study of Stalin and his regime. Now with House of Meetings, it's as if we can all exhale. His new book is, as typical with Amis, witty and monumental. It tells the story of brothers who, as disparate as any two siblings can be, are linked both through their individual sentences in a gulag and their love of the same woman. Love is tough under these circumstances and after a climax at the House of Meetings between the main character's brother, Lev, and Zoya, the rest of the novel deals mostly with the reconciliation of the nameless main character with himself. He is, quite honestly, a brute and makes no real apologies to the reader. The weakness in the novel may exist in the fact that so much of the book is devoted to his becoming a more humane individual over the years. The problem is that, at least for me, Amis never quite achieves believability in his saving of the narrator. Despite this element, House of Meetings is a gorgeous and devastating novel and ultimately, Amis fans will love it and new readers will become devoted fans.

Sister of the Road/Nabat Series

I've now officially gone from flirting with the Nabat Series that AK
Press puts out to jumping head first into the water. A little while back, I read BAD by James Carr and was completely enthralled by the idea of prison literature. What happens when I don't feed myself what I'm obsessed with at the moment? It fades to black; at least for the time being.
Now, Sister of the Road has put me back on the map. First of all, I love the concept that Nabat is a "series dedicated to reprinting forgotten memories by various misfits, outsiders, and rebels." Way to go AK Press! My girlfriend got pompoms as a gift and I feel like using them right about now. What's even better is a few weeks ago, when I got called to jury duty, I wandered through the shelves to pick something that might get me thrown out of the jury pool straightaway and settled on Sister of the
Road. It isn't that I wanted something obvious...well, I did and almost brought in a Black Panthers photography collection. I ultimately settled on the hobo novel because in the back of my mind, I was sure that I could wriggle out of jury duty all by myself. It didn't work and by the end of day one, when I heard my name called loud and clear I had simultaneously finished the first socialist anarchist hobo novel I've ever read. I can guarantee all you fellowrockstars it won't
be the last. Who hasn't dreamt of the open road? The freedom of the trains? I mean, keep the whorehouses, pimps, and crooks. I'm all about the hobo,Brokeback Mountain style. Innocent and Beautiful. This book was none of that. Set in the early part of the twentieth century, this dense little novel speaks of an age long gone. Basically, she travels from Anarchist commune to Anarchist commune with a whole lot of stops
and a whole lot of trouble in between. We all know communes aren't what they once were. The collective wisdom gained through knowing your government is wrong and uniting against it in nationwide rallies and purpose is at least for the moment suspended. Pulling back because I don't want to stray too far.

Here's my challenge to you. Send my way your favorite forgotten kick-ass female character in the form of a comment to the blog. I don't want any pansies (excuse all the -isms inherent in that statement). I want more BoxcarBerthas and if you need
help even knowing what a Boxcar Bertha is, read Sister of the Road.

Watch out! Your Body is Changing.

What can I say about Jack Pendarvis. Equally so, what can I say about Jack's new book, Your Body is Changing? First off, I'll have to preface this review by stating that I might be the head of the official Pendarvis fan club. The only reason I use the word "might" at all is because he's out there bleeping away on the radar of McSweeney's-type humor. He's a regular contributor for both McSweeney's and The Believer, as well as a zillion other publications.

I'll agree with George Saunders when I say that "there are not many truly funny writers in the world - writers who can make you laugh out loud, make you do that repetitive, mounting-laughter thing, so that you finally have to put the book down and try to catch your breath." I think it's more than that. Jack's the kind of writer whose humor is so dry and so drenched in absurdity that it seems on the verge of snapping from being way too tight.

For those of you who don't know who Pendarvis is yet, quickly get on the bandwagon. This is his second book. His second! There's still time to catch up because before you know it, there will be hundreds of Jack's stories floating around and you won't know where to start. My advice? Fellow rockstars, this book doesn't come out until the end of May! So, promptly go out and buy his first one, The Mysterious Secret of the Valuable Treasure. This will enable you to have the proper catch-your-breath break between the two.

I struggle to not start giving away the plots to the stories because it's the type of the book you should go into openly. Let's just say, when Jack and I were last seen together, we were both rolling around on the ground sharing hilarious favorite moments from his book. Ok ok, maybe he wasn't rolling, but I did get him to laugh at a few great parts of his own book. It reminded me of having one of those great secret story moments when you're laughing so hard no one else can possibly guess why you're crying.

Please, please pre-order this book today. And go buy his first one.

Not Worth Mentioning

Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the healthy eating, but I've read 3 novels in the last couple weeks that have gotten so much praise that I figured them a sure bet. Picture the sound of the WRONG buzzer coming on. If I could only figure out how to write the sound of a WRONG buzzer. My new theory is that if you have a new book and you can get any friend or acquaintance or even a goon from the same publisher to give your book a quote, then by the time it gets to the reader...well, who needs us? You're already made, published. For example, one book was by one of the hottest, hippest gay writers out there right now...someone who was called a genius by gay writers I actually adore, was lukewarm and trite at best. I'm going to take the easy way out on naming these authors and not do it. I'm not a believer of slamming an author or three when I don't care enough about the books to structurally support my claims. So, my fellow rock stars, instead of commenting about new and exciting sleep-aids I have been wasting my time on, know that I will be writing on the magnificent new James Laughlin (auto)biography. It's ammaaaazzzzinnnngg.

My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up

About a month or two ago, I ran into a review of Stephen Elliot's new book on Salon.com. Ever since I read the article, I've had it in the back of my mind to get ahold of this one. So when I attended the Sex Workers' Art Show and found myself standing at the merchandise table staring at the familiar cover, I thought to myself "What? Stephen Elliot is here? Salon.com indirectly made it into the Sex Workers' Art Show?" I promptly bought the book, sat through an amazing performance by a myriad of unique and beautiful performers and promptly went home and read the book. Since I knew I'd love the book, I was already gushing about it to Elliot when I saw him during break. In fact, gushing is exactly the right word since I don't often allow my butch self to go there in public, let alone in private. And I did. In public.

Now, take a deep breath because we're moving onto the book. Listen, fellow rockstars, this book is amazing. I'm going to copy every reviewer when I call it beautiful and raw and honest, but it's true because it's all that and more. I love it when I know something I'm reading is original. I love lots of books, but when I know it's a break-out, I know I'm in the presence of brilliance. One aspect of Elliot's brilliance is that despite the title (and content), you don't need to enjoy BDSM or even understand why someone would to get the emotion behind what makes this memoir so gorgeous. I mean, we have all loved someone and when we love, it's different from all others. Who knows why some of us need our love to come with floggers and rough hands, but even for those who love differently from us, don't think you will get through this book unchanged.

Stephen Elliot is so honest. He could have written a stunning book about BDSM and leather and left it that. Instead, he writes about scenes (sometimes unfulfilling), slips into bottom headspace taking you with him while he remembers the profound and sad moments of his childhood that unapologetically make him who he is. And there you are. You find yourself in a devastatingly tender and isolated moment in Elliot's childhood when you thought you were safe in the arms of his top. Interestingly, by the end of the book you are in the arms of a safe and loving top.

I think it's so rare and the sign of a true author to take you into an area that can be so uncomfortable and so mystical and make it feel like the easiest transition on earth. It's what the best tops do and Elliot has mastered this through his new book.

Down These Mean Streets

I've been meaning to read Piri Thomas' book, DOWN THESE MEAN STREETS for about 5 years. I finally caved in when I saw a used copy for a couple bucks and I'm sorry I didn't read it earlier.

It's so delicious in all sorts of ways and its push-you-up-against-a-wall style won't let you breathe until you finish it. It's harsh, but it has such tender moments that many prison memoirs don't touch. Don't think for a minute that Thomas lets it be about that alone. He talks about growing up in Spanish Harlem with a keen eye to detail. One thing that you can tell is that this book, still in print after 40 years, is that it has definitively been an influential work.

Maybe that influence lies in the weaker aspects of the book (few and far between). I mean, so often one book is influential to a generation of writers and then one of their books is influential and so on and at the end of it all, you get an incredibly dense and stylistically tight book that comes only from a sound brickwork. This isn't to say that Thomas' book is weak. I think it's incredibly strong. It's just obvious that his writing is based on a lack ; his lack of formal education, his lack of resources, lack of means, etc. This is of course, what gives the book its edge. It isn't fiction, it's not pretend.

Piri Thomas gives no apology for his life, but that's exactly what makes this book such a powerful force.

You'll Notice...

that my list at the bottom of the page resembles many lists from many books by many writers. It's as much a list for me as it is for hypothetical you. I don't care that it isn't my original idea.

And the reason why people are fascinated by lists of what people have bought is because we're all such big nerds.

Chin Music Press

If you're looking for something so bright that it's going to make your blog glow, then look at my new favorite small press. The book industry seems to be fighting itself right now to stay afloat. Why did I say seems, it doesn't seem. It is fighting to stay alive. Anyway, one bright star in all this mess is Chin Music Press.

So far as I can tell, they've published 3 books. Wait, let me start at the beginning. A few months back, we had an event with Jason Berry (author of LAST OF THE RED HOT POPPAS)and since it was a dark and stormy night and not a soul was alive except for a few liberal ghosts that haunt Manuel's Tavern, we got to talking about the technical/design aspects of his book that would have gone ignored if a crowd showed. What I like about Chin Music is that in addition to great content, the design staff has it going on. Is it goin' on? All 3 titles so far are stunningly gorgeous and intensely different. Berry's book, to start with, has a dust jacket that unfolds to become a poster of one of the characters. Not only that, but the poster's otherwise blank spaces are filled with wonderful little extras. Once you open the book, you will marvel at the quality of not only the exquisite endpapers, but also every other page in the darn thing. I know what you're thinking, expensive small press book, right? You've never been so wrong in your life. If you go to their website you can see that it's a normal price for an exeedingly above-normal book. Also, if you feel like you don't really want to shell out $25 for the book, you can get slightly-marred combo packages for cheaper than that!

What I really love is the first book they put out, KUHAKU. The design is so good, you can just smell it and you might even want to eat it. Once you're done reading and absorbing every nook and cranny of this little treasure, go to the website and it will explain what all those nooks and crannies mean.

It's like a neverending easter-egg hunt where YOU actually are the one finding all the eggs. Everyone wanted to be that brat.

Also check out DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO MISS NEW ORLEANS?, published by none other than Chin Music Press.

one small thought

I think that if I were inclined to have children and then got divorced and went through a custody battle, it might be easier to give up my kids than my books.

If Nick Hornby Can Do It....

I suppose that a very not-famous person such as myself can write about books. Granted, Mr. Hornby has some clout. But I figure that I have the inside edge of working in the book industry. RATATATHAT is something that at some point, must have some meaning.

Also, in some wierd way I think the following works out to be some great unknown mathematical truth or something.

I know Jack Pendarvis.
Jack Pendarvis has a book of short stories.
One or five of those short stories has been published in THE BELIEVER.
Nick Hornby writes a monthly column on books for THE BELIEVER.
In the "books bought" column of his June/July 2006 piece, he mentions buying Jack's book, THE MYSTERIOUS SECRET OF THE VALUABLE TREASURE.

All this means is that basically all things equal, I must actually live next door to Nick Hornby and my next drink is on him.

I'm not sure about you, but in my head, it makes sense.

And this is all to say that I very much enjoy Hornby's monthly and Jack's smiling face.