Book 53: Memento Mori

Memento Mori
Muriel Spark

Above all, what really makes us human is the fact that we must eventually die, despite what current science wants us to think, and it is this inescapable fact that Muriel Spark investigates in Memento Mori. Spark takes us into midcentury London and the world of the rapidly declining; the elderly are an often unseen piece of society and it's interesting to have a novel full of them, particularly as they approach their own deaths with candor and a lack of grace usually reserved for the young. Spark reminds us throughout that the older among us are still inherently human, and though it's quite funny that a woman in her seventies takes to blackmailing her acquaintances, there is a hint of the tragic that isn't fully explored in this lighthearted tale. Its characters are rich and compelling, almost universally over the age of seventy and vibrant while tackling the challenges of older, slowly betraying bodies. Spark's novel lacks a bit of coherent plotting or any real sense of movement, but it certainly does not lack for charm. The novel turns on a mysterious crop of phone calls reminding the characters that they must die, but instead of really probing their reactions the novel has the characters resume their daily lives, perhaps overreacting at times but behaving normally. Perhaps this is the point- that at a certain age even the disturbing reminder of death can only phase so much. Nothing much happens at a leisurely pace, but the novel is enjoyable enough due to its hilarious and well-portrayed cast. Though Memento Mori centers on and contains plenty of death, it teems with a lively spirit and is a refreshing look at an often ignored facet of society.

Grade: B+

Book 52: Little Brother

Little Brother
Cory Doctorow

With a title that so blatantly riffs on Orwell's masterpiece of paranoid dystopian literature, I knew I would like this book, not to mention the fact that it was up for a Hugo and has received praise across the board. Billed as YA but appropriate for any skeptical and thinking reader, Little Brother is a chilling version of a society not too far removed from our own that rapidly sees the glorious technology of the Information Age turned against it by a careless Department of Homeland Security on the march to remove suspected terrorism; their solution, of course, is to treat everyone like a terrorist. Doctorow can be incredibly heavy-handed at times, but what Little Brother lacks in subtlety it has in philosophy and heart- Doctorow goes to no lengths whatsoever to hide his views and this prominent display is uncompromising, powerful, and absolute. Doctorow perhaps misses an opportunity to show the power of dissent and critical thinking by including it in his book, but his resort to absolutes in his future of absolutes is an interesting and compelling choice when viewed in the context of the book's atmosphere. Also interesting is this book as a clear arifact of the Bush era; while it's obvious that intrusive technology is not going away and while it's as obvious now as it was in 1793 that privacy is a pivotal concern for a free society, the president and his advisors are definitely approximations of Bush & Co. and the attitude of America directly following the 9/11 attacks. That we can recognize the novel as a relic of this era also says something about the current tone in America.

Getting back to the content itself, Doctorow has created a compelling future with direct links to technologies being invented and refined now; once readers recognize that "arphid" is simply a linguistic shortcut for RFID, the future of Little Brother seems a whole lot closer. The book's main character, Marcus, is a steadfast 17-year-old who grew up with technology and the Internet and who illustrates the ways that tech-savvy can be used for good, evil, and good thwarting evil. The technology described in the book is compelling and understandable for a relatively unfamiliar reader; adults a bit older than me may have trouble following, but teenagers and twentysomethings should be able to key into the novel's mentality easily and fully. The plot is fast-moving and action-packed, with some tough scenes of torture and tender scenes of a teenager's first mind-blowing love affair. The book's only contruction fault other than it's heavy-handed tone is its deus-ex-machina-style conclusion, which is thrilling and convenient and, sadly, seems a bit optimistic (which just says more about the depth of this vision of San Francisco and perhaps my own sensibilities). Though Marcus is, in many ways, extraordinary, he grapples with the philosophical ambiguity inherent in taking on the DHS and also provides a view of life in the new future from the viewpoint of a largely normal teenager; though Marcus is a gifted hacker, he recognizes and taps in to the potential of his generation to create real change. Little Brother is, in this way and coupled with its afterword essays, a rallying call to the kids of the Bush years and a tangible reminder that relinquishing freedom for security ultimately gets one neither.

Grade: A-

Book 51: The Library at Night

The Library at Night
Alberto Manguel

I don't get much spare time to read these days, since school has started in full force, and it's strange that I decided to read this book about, of all things, libraries. What Manguel has done in The Library at Night, however, is unique and offers fresh perspectives on libraries and the different functions they can have. The Library at Night is a kind of history of libraries mixed with philosophical ruminations about what libraries are and what they mean to individual users and to humanity at large. Manguel has taken a look at libraries from a variety of viewpoints, addressing their historical aspects as well as their embodiment of the human condition; as pretentious and academic as that sounds, however, there is a lot of thought and sincere love behind this volume that shines throughout. Beginning with an examination of "The Library as Myth" and the ideas that have created and maintained libraries throughout human history and moves through his categories in a distinct and meaninful order. There is no mistake that The Library as Power" follows "The Library as Space" and "The Library as Order"; all of these chapters examine libraries in human contexts and taken together can form a kind of argument about the myriad uses of libraries across and throughout human history. Also interesting is the direct juxtaposition of "The Library as Survival" with "The Library as Oblivion", each of which examines the power of libraries to preserve history and serve as a reminder as to what is lost; not coincidentally, these are followed by a fun look at imaginary libraries, which combine aspects of both survival and oblivion in their peculiar half-existences.

It is refreshing that Manguel resists the urge to make a hard and fast argument and instead allows his topics to mingle freely with one another, just as in "The Library as Order" and "The Library as Chance", which are not coupled directly but which provide interesting contexts to their own surroundings: this is exactly the kind of chance that Manguel describes in these chapters and, surely, they would acquire a different meaning read in the opposite order or with more space between them. This is not to say, however, that The Library at Night succumbs completely to a darkened, chaotic principle: it is obvious that its chapters, though standing enough alone to be interesting quick reads in and of themselves, should be taken together to construct a narrative of the life of libraries. It is no accident either that the book ends with "The Library As Identity" and "The Library As Home", arguably two of the most important themes the book touches upon and themes that will resonate deeply with readers who presumably care enough about the function of libraries to pick up this book in the first place. Manguel's soft and fluid prose guides the reader through a theoretical history of libraries through examples that exemplify the theme of a particular chapter; these are wonderfully balanced between the obvious (Alexandria as "Myth", national libraries as "Identity") and obscure (Aby Warburg as "Mind").

The Library at Night has, at its heart, a love of the library both as an idea and as an institution, extoling the virtues of all kinds of libraries, however small or large. Vanished libraries exist alongside the vast national libraries of Europe; Alexandria appears next to the recently looted Iraq National Library and State Archives and the vanished Jewish volumes from the Holocaust. Manugel mentions his own library a few more times than necessary, but he always relates his personal experience to the theme at hand and his rare vanity is eclipsed by his transparent devotion to his subject matter. With flowery writing that accomplishes precisely its point, Alberto Manguel adds an air of mystique to the concept of the library in many of its incarnations. The Library at Night is sure to please library enthusiasts amateur and professional, those steeped in library history and theory and those who simply go to their closest local repository for the latest Dan Brown. The Library at Night is a loving testament to the idea of the book and should be added to libraries large and small thorughout the world.

Grade: A

Book 50: Microserfs

Microserfs
Douglas Coupland

It's been a while since I've read a Coupland book, and I think that it's good to get them in reasonably spread out doses; while his sense of time and place is absolutely impeccable, his books can feel a bit repetitive and listless. This, I think, makes Microserfs a perfect read for this, my first full week of classes in graduate school. There is a general sense of listlessness amongst Dan (the narrator of this computer-based journal) and his comrades, but Dan has a fundamental sense of what is important, expounding on complex and important philosophical ideas in between describing hilarious anecdotes regarding his work at Microsoft and, later, a friend's start-up in Silicon Valley. Coupland's indisputable strength is his ability to firmly situate his characters in their era and have them become both representative and starkly individual; these are not hasty stereotyped sketches though each character showcases a different facet of 20somethings in an era not quite out of Windows 3.x. Coupland uses his characters to define different aspects of the newly forming dot-com bubble and increasingly wired Internet age, not only on a group of young coders but through the eyes of Dan's parents as well, both of whom seek meaning and relevance in an increasingly digital world. Coupland's gifts are displayed in dazzling technicolor in Microserfs, which is by turns funny and poignant, but which never tries too hard at either and which ends up doubly successful at both. The book isn't too plot-heavy, but it is engaging and will keep readers laughing and thinking as they, too, ponder life in a new, dawning age.

Grade: A

Book 49: The End of Mr. Y

The End of Mr. Y
Scarlett Thomas

There is so much to say about this book, but it's quite hard to get at its essence and properly review it without giving too much away, I think. The End of Mr. Y is an incredibly philosophical novel that can beat you over the head with its own cleverness at times, but which ends up being quite satisfying in both the philosophical quandaries and the story it presents. Thomas is easygoing with her difficult science concepts and if her narrator Ariel is a bit stuck-up at times, it only fits her character and isn't grating or annoying to the reader. Ariel is quite a compelling woman, flawed enough to make the story seem genuine but not so much as to turn the reader off completely; sure, she plays fast and loose with vile language, but this style of writing fits the character and allows for an interesting juxtaposition with some very heavy science material. The science in this book does require readers to think, but is presented lightly enough to be accessible and in quantities that fit the plot of the book and allow a critical reader to keep up with a little mental jogging. The book is not perfect, of course, and some plot elements seem unneccesary and/or undeveloped, while others take up far too much room in repetition. The book does brilliantly conceive of different ways to view reality and evokes its images beautifully while probing the mind of a unique and compelling heroine. The End of Mr. Y is not a book for those who simply wish to sit back and absorb a book; the intricacies revealed by Ariel's trips to the mysterious and wonderful Troposphere raise questions about the nature of science, language, religion, and reality itself. To say more would diminish the power of this book and the sense of wonder one has when embarking on its journey for the first time. The End of Mr. Y is an interesting commentary on science, literature, and the nature of reality that will reward enterprising readers and that only rarely sacrifices its story for its philosophical purposes.

Grade: A-

Book 48: The Best American Mystery Stories 2006

The Best American Mystery Stories 2006
Edited by Scott Turow

2006 brings (brought?) yet another full plate of intriguing mystery stories in this annual anthology, which is quickly becoming a favorite quick read of mine. This year comes complete with some standouts and though their stars shine quite brightly, a couple of the stories herein don't quite live up to the promise of the book or the mediocre offerings from other years. Several stories, however, were wonderfully conceived and brilliantly executed, no doubt ranking among the top stories of the year regardles of genre. Joyce Carol Oates's "So Help Me God" double-dipped with The Best American Short Stories this year, and it's obvious why with her evocative tale of small-town life, the kind of story that starts out slow but changes you in a way that you don't realize until you've finished the last line. Likewise, Karen Bender's "Theft" is appealing to the litfic crowd with its take on how Alzheimer's affects the career of a lifetime swindler. "Peacekeeper," Alan Heathcock's offering, is a bit slow and doesn't quite connect its strands fully, but its atypical chronological sampling and tale of tragedy and natural disaster should also appeal to a wider readership.

There are, of course, many stories that are simply fun; these are the stories I love, the ones that ask us to sympathize with society's devils as they prey on people just like us. It's also refreshing to realize the humor that the mystery genre can offer, both slapstick and a little darker. Laura Lippman is quickly becoming an annual favorite with me, and "The Crack Cocaine Diet" is absolutely hilarious throughout, though tragic in its way. Her ease of voice and despicable characters can't help but please and her plot moves along at a zippy place along with her zippy language. "Improvisation," a final story from Ed McBain, has at its heart a far darker kind of humor, but I couldn't help but love its evisceration of acting hopefuls through quick twists and turns of plot that are never unnecessary and always keep the reader happily on one's toes. "McHenry's Gift", by Mike Maclean, and Sue Pike's "A Temporary Crown" each exemplify in their way the delight of the mystery genre and its clean conclusions. Each has an ending perfectly suited to the story as each leaves the imprint of a smile; stories like these are simply a joy to read. Also appealing and exemplary are the stories that grab you immediately and drag you in their conclusions to strange and distant places: "Born Bad" by Jeffery Deaver is a weak example, William Harrison's "Texas Heat" a bit better, and Andrew Klavan's "Her Lord and Master" the best of the lot; each has a lovely twist that showcases the strengths of the plotty nature of the crime story.

The Best American Mystery Stories 2006 is a wide-ranging collection of mysteries that show the vast variety within the genre, of voice and subject matter and everything in between. There are straight-up comedy routines (with a hint of cynicism; these are, after all, crime stories), litfic-type "moment of revelation" stories, stories that exploit experimental and novel narrative techniques, nostalgia-heavy trips to the great crimes of the past, and not a single traditional detective story. As a fan of the traditional Sherlock Holmes model, however, I found that I didn't miss the presence of similar characters in this book; instead, The Best American Mystery Stories 2006 celebrates the diversity of the mystery genre, a diversity that should please even the pickiest reader. What's so compelling about these stories is the way in which readers can relate to the criminals, the way that we root for the bad guy protagonist of "Ringing the Changes" despite the fact that he is a very seedy character and the kind of guy we detest in CSI or Law & Order. I think literary crime stories have a kind of freedom in which we can be on either side of the law or in which the sides don't even necessarily exist. The Best American Mystery Stories 2006 is worth a look for its authors' willingness to probe the depths to which we will sink, to reveal surprising facts and mysteries about human nature not quite possible without seeing the darkest faces of humanity.

Grade: A

Book 47: Columbine

Columbine
Dave Cullen

Though I was only 13 when the famous Columbine shooting occured, but I remember watching on TV as kids evacuated the school, hands on their heads, and I certainly remember the fallout. The tragedy has been eclipsed by the September 11 attacks, which dominated my high school experience, but the Columbine tragedy still weighs heavily on the American psyche and comes back to haunt us occasionally. Dave Cullen takes a look back on the events of that day and their effects on the community of Littleton, Colorado and the survivors of the horror. His account is always engaging, thoughful, and touching, and he delivers the story straightforward and with an entirely appropriate amount of embellishment. Columbine is thorough and factual but is also easy to read; Cullen has a gift for narration and knows exactly how to present his material. The book is careful throughout but does not hesitate to point blame where it can be found, though the suspects are far from likely and Cullen takes on the challenge of correcting the misinformation we have come to rely on.

Columbine relies heavily on actual evidence released in the ten years since the event, as well as interviews, and it is clear that Cullen has treated the evidence and interviews carefully and skilfully; he doesn't have an agenda, and seems to be genuinely concerned with correcting the falsehoods rapidly spread in the wake of the disaster. The narrative is split between the events of and following April 20, 1999 and the gradual evolution of Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris from troublemakers to murderers. Cullen relies extensively on the boys' own writings to paint a likely picture of the duo's dynamic and places appropriate blame on Jefferson County law enforcement officials without becoming self-righteous or overly lenient. The key to this book is its balance; Cullen occasionally shows a hint of compassion to the murderers (especially Dylan), but this comes from a careful reading of the evidence. Cullen doesn't excuse Dylan's behavior, but interprets his journals in such a way as to explain and more fully implicate Eric as a psychopathic mastermind hellbent on destruction and chaos. These chapters alternate with chapters describing the effect on the survivors, the victims' families, and the community at large. The swift changes can be a bit jarring, but they also give the book a weight and emotional depth appropriate, subtle, and touching, just perfect for its subject. Columbine is an excellent example of the right book at the right time and a proof to all doubters that nonfiction can be written with grace; Dave Cullen has tried to do right and set the record straight, and Columbine is a testament to the power of journalism done right.

Grade: A

Book 46: Gold

Gold: The Final Science Fiction Collection
Isaac Asimov

Isaac Asimov is one of the undisputed giants in science fiction and even with my recent fascination with the genre I haven't read a lot of his work. Starting here at the end, I've decided that I need to seek out more of his writings, and certainly as soon as possible. Gold is an astounding collection of Asimov's last uncollected short fiction and a series of essays recycled from magazine editorials or book introductions. Within, Asimov explores the boundaries of science fiction and expounds upon the art of writing in general and while he does seem a bit pompous at times, the man was a member of Mensa and was one of the most prolific authors ever. He has a leg to stand on. Gold opens with a collection of short stories, most of which function as well-delivered jokes and puns. While "Hallucination" is fairly weak, several of the other long tales are quite moving. "Cal" opens the collection and speaks to the trials and tribulations of the writer, as does the charming "Fault-Intolerant", possible now only from someone of the pre-computer era. Stories such as "In the Canyon", "Good-bye to Earth", and the excellent, if obvious, "The Nations in Space" take common human problems and deal with them in science fiction contexts, proving the strength of the genre. Most effective, although a bit drawn-out, is the Hugo-winning "Gold", a meditation on the power of art and the rewards of stretching ones boundaries; not only is it an excellent story in its own right, it also speaks to fans of genre work and the truly original. You also have to love the slight swipe at Shakespeare.

Though Asimov's stories aren't masterworks of characterization and often go to entirely expected places, his essays reveal that his primary concern is to grapple with difficult ideas, making his literary baseness more understandable and forgivable. His essays on different aspects of science fiction and writing in general reveal a wry sense of humor and a devotion to the oft-maligned genre, casting light on its formative years and speaking to its evolution beyond space-based stories and into the New Wave and beyond. Most of the essays are rather specific, originally appearing as book introductions or magazine editorials, but each speaks to a facet of the genre with easygoing prose and revealing insights. Asimov is particularly interesting when discussing his own experiences and work, and though essays like "The All-Human Galaxy" and "The Robot Chronicles" are a bit self-indulgent, they provide interesting insight into his own work and make the ignorant reader thirst for more of his excellent ideas. Gold is an excellent all-around volume that fans of science fiction, no matter how familiar with or new to the genre, should read with pleasure and ease; after all, Asimov is constantly looking forward and we can hope indeed, as he does, for the Golden Age ahead.

Grade: A-

Book 45: A Universal History of the Destruction of Books

A Universal History of the Destruction of Books from Ancient Sumer to Modern Iraq
Fernando Báez

First of all, this book is incredibly depressing reading for bibliophiles, but that is hardly the author's fault and, in fact, Báez is to be much credited for his striking account of the history of the wanton disregard for knowledge and freedom that would, ironically, likely seek to destroy his own book. The introduction to this volume explains its aims and does a good job introducing some of the reasons Báez believe lie beneath the desire to burn or otherwise destroy books and the inherent knowledge they contain; though these themes only return intermittently, their initial appearance grounds the book and provides the thoughtful reader with some academic context. Báez has chosen a traditional chronological/geographical approach to the material that works where it is obeyed but, as with other bibliographic histories I've read, becomes quite confusing when the numbers are needlessly fudged; Báez devotes enough separate chapters to nonpsecific causes (natural causes, fictional book destruction, and so on) to warrant a separate section of their own and more in-depth treatment that would have wrapped the book together nicely.

Likewise, Báez also succumbs to that all-too-familiar and easy vice of library historians and occasionally presents little more than lists of libraries and volumes destroyed, placing them in context but failing to make any sense out of the chaos. What is perhaps the best contextual chapter that deals directly with a specific chronological and geographical pattern of destruction is that on the early obliteration of native American cultures by the invading Spanish just post-Columbus. This chapter attempts to explain the motives of the book-destroyers as well as the gravity of the disaster and the sense of loss of these priceless artifacts. Báez achieves in this chapter a kind of gravity he grasps for all too obviously in most of the other chapters and while they are moving and convey a sense of deep cultural loss, none hits so close as this tragic history. The chapters on the monastic zeal of the Middle Ages and the fascist regimes of mid-century are excellent as well in dealing with the motives of those who destroy books, though Spain and Nazi Germany receive far more and better attention than the Soviet Union and China. Most disappointing in the entire volume is the attention given to the recent war in Iraq and the looting that has accompanied the American invasion and occupation; though Báez wraps his whole book up neatly by ending at the very place where books (and therefore libraries) began, his political bias is a bit too brash and the focus far too heavy and long for a period so short and so recent. Báez is to be commended for the scope and readability of his Universal History of the Destruction of Books, which is brilliant and thought-provoking where it delves into the motives of those behind the fire and those who write about destruction, ironically, in books of their own. A Universal History of the Destruction of Book is worthwhile reading though it lacks some context and is a largely sap-free overall look at such a depressing, but necessary, topic.

Grade: B+

Book 44: Soon I Will Be Invincible

Soon I Will Be Invincible
Austin Grossman

In a world where superheroes are real, it's incredibly difficult to step away from the shadow of the impossibly bright Watchmen, and though Soon I Will Be Invincible has some failures of its own, it does an excellent job of positing a modern-day superhero populace that is quite distinct from the caped crusaders of its predecessor. Grossman is to be commended for the ideas behind this book, the way he has initially constructed his world and his development of an X-Men-like theory of the superhero, where heroes are made by industrial accidents or the hands of men. Likewise, he deploys deft narrative skill in alternating the narrative between the world's most evil and most brilliant supervillain and that of a young cyborg just joining a recently rebooted superteam set on finding one of their own. Grossman thinks out the powers he gives to his superheroes and villains and it is obvious he has put serious thought into developing an extensive set of extras, often mentioned only briefly enough to prove to the reader that, yes, a human with those powers was conceived. This unfortunate sense of bravado pervades the book at times and leads to unnecessary and boring info-dumps, perplexing because they seem to have nothing at all to do with the narrative world.

While it is not unusual to construct an alternate history with superheroes, or one with aliens (who show up in this novel, to no small amount of reader confusion), one simply cannot just throw these elements into the World As We Know It and expect it to turn out the same. The book is alternate history, kind of, but it's more like our exact world except, wait, there were superheroes in it. I mean, it isn't necessary to take the heroes to the Vietnam War, but it's naive and jarring to expect that there were no major changes after it became obvious to the world that superpowered humans existed; you'd think at least the popular culture references, while cute, would change after the tenth time Dr. Impossible tried to take over the world. It is here that Grossman's book fails, utterly and completely; this is a shame because the book itself is interesting and fun. The heroes and villains are compelling and Dr. Impossible is amazingly rendered in 3D prose that puts the reader firmly in his corner, only to switch sides when almost-as-compelling Fatale plays narrator for a chapter. Sure, Grossman relies on some over-used cliches (the cyborg has an identity crisis, the villain was unpopular in high school), but these and the main support characters are interesting and do the job.

Even the plot of the book is different and intriguing, owing mostly, I think, to its unconventional narration. Readers are placed in the awkward position of rooting for both Good and Evil but are moved smoothly from one side to the other; I was personally rooting for Dr. Impossible but there is still a part of me that wants to be sure Fatale ends up okay as well. Dr. Impossible is, in fact, quite the nuanced character, and his constant insistence on taking over the world becomes a moving mantra about the power of perseverence instead of mere evil designs. I quite like him, in fact, but he alone cannot carry the book. The magical gimmicks are hastily and clumsily portrayed, though a few relics and technologies function well and seem to belong in this world; most impressive and coherent are the origin story for hero CoreFire and Dr. Impossible's latest Doomsday Device, which are hilariously over the top and straight out of Bond. The actual physical fights are the most believable elements, with the superheroes squaring off and showcasing their powers for the camera, as well as a particularly moving sequence in which Dr. Impossible conceives the best possible prison for each Champions member. The problem is that the world is too inconsistent and there are far too many extraneous elements: why the mysterious magic and the alien hybrids? Where are the aliens now? Why is the world exactly as we know it though it has been shaped by magical devices throughout and superheroes since at least the 1940s? These problems, along with some shoddy and clumsy writing, plague the narrative and, while the book is fun, it is far from well-written. Soon I Will Be Invincible means well and nails some elements while failing spectacularly at others; it is a novel of great ideas and a great climactic act but too little overall thought to be even fairly good.

Grade: B-