Book 17: The Best American Short Stories 2007

The Best American Short Stories
Edited by Stephen King

Another year, another Best American collection, again spectacular and, according to my inexpert view, likely deserving of its title. This collection is strong throughout and, though certain stories necessarily rise above others, all are worth at least a preliminary glance. A couple are inferior but all of the stories in this collection are at least interesting and will reward readers for their time and efforts. King's influence could be acutely felt throughout the collection, as it included several more fantastic stories not normally encountered in the "literary" pantheon, but his presence is not overbearing and the collection maintains an excellent balance between realism and fantasy. The stories in this collection have a broad range of focus and theme but all attempt to get at an underlying truth of the human condition, more often than not in brilliant and unforgettable ways.

Highlights of the collection include John Barth's "Toga Party", which brilliantly sketches the slow decline of old age and a far more responsible approach to it than many would expect. The story is dreary but somehow celebrates life at the same time. William Gay's "Where Will You Go When Your Skin Cannot Contain You?" is a terrific, although slightly confused, portrait of an unsympathetic ruffian who becomes utterly tragic. The story hits all at once in its last final lines, a summation that does the story justice by making the plainly obvious absolutely inescapable. In doing so, it avoids the curse of many overbearing authors and moves the story to a higher plane. "Sans Farine" by Jim Shepard, "Wake" by Beverly Jensen, and "Findings & Impressions" by Stellar Kim all impress as well, taking the extraordinary and making it normal, with unforgettable characters and interesting new perspectives on seemingly routine events. "The Boy in Zaquitos" is undoubtedly present due to King's intervention (coming from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction) but should be read by anyone and everyone willing to believe in the horrors of globalization and the terrible toll espionage can take on its agents. The absolute best story in the collection, however, is Roy Kesey's "Wait", at once moving and uproariously hilarious. I laughed out loud throughout the entire story as a normal delayed flight scenario degenerates into all-out civil war and meteoric destruction. Just when the doomed passengers seem to find some release, some hope of departure, a new and unexpected delay strikes; the story follows this simple formula yet somehow it never gets old. Kesey's unlimited imagination and careful balance of raw emotions with fantastic events create an incredibly hilarious but insightful story. This collection contains more gems than an ordinary short story collection should, with its good stories undoubtedly the cream of the crop and its mediocre offerings still a cut above the rest.

Grade: A

Book 16: The Godfather

The Godfather
Mario Puzo

I have never seen the movie based on this book, but given its gripping story and characters, it is no wonder that The Godfather's adaptation is hailed as one of the best movies ever. Puzo's novel gets occasionally sidetracked but stands up as a solid work of Mafia fiction, a clever blend of film noir with genuine family drama, romance, and subtle hints of the American Dream. The Godfather is a big city fantasy gritty and realistic to the core, successfully alternating between surprisingly touching sex scenes, run-of-the-mill business meetings, and scenes of incredible bloodlust and horriffic, but never off-putting, violence. Puzo is an incredibly skilled writer who draws on his refined and realistic characters and thoroughly intense portrait of the New York underworld to create a gripping novel with real literary merit despite its pulp intentions.

The novel opens with four diverse stories of men who have come upon misfortune and who are going to ask their shared Godfather for favors. This approach is the absolute best way to begin the sprawling epic narrative of Vito Corleone, alerting readers immediately to his immense power and his intricate value system that relies on such favors and friendships to retain that power. Puzo is at once subtle and blunt; it is obvious that Corleone is a powerful Mafia Don but the narrative itself waits to include violence, immediately setting its delicate balance. Puzo's restraint is remarkable; though his pacing is off a bit and the novel cluttered with unnecessary side stories, he knows when to shock and when to draw back. The gory details of sex or murder never overwhelm the narrative and thus should not put off readers too much. The restraint in this regard is remarkable.

Unfortunately, the novel's only flaws come from overuse of this restraint. While details come back often enough to ensure that nothing in the novel is pure fluff, some of Puzo's timing is woefully off and makes the book a bit unbalanced at times. The history of Don Corleone, for example, is gripping and intimidating but comes in the awkward middle of the novel, truly belonging perhaps to several other breaks in the story but only breaking up the heretofore effective speed of the narrative. Similarly, details about certain Italian terms are included where they are not necessary at all and create false leads. Most ineffective is the narrative's play on time and space. Though Puzo skips backwards effectively at crucial points in the narrative, other temporal anomalies are simply awkward and ineffective. The most egregious offense is Albert Neri's backstory, an entire nested chapter that is illuminating but comes during the novel's climax. Puzo is otherwise a master of third person omniscient narrative and makes excellent choices; his story is a bit muddled but not less intriguing or worth reading because of a few simple errors.

In fact, The Godfather utilizes the most appropriate third-person omniscient voice that I can recall. It is absolutely crucial that each individual story be followed in this manner, and the use of an absolutely detached narrator only cements the novel's presence as a family epic above any other suitable genre (all of which, incidentally, it excels at). The story throughout is gripping and it is a testament to Puzo's talent that main threads do not get lost in all of the book's many crevices and tangents, though they are plentiful. The book is a sprawling family drama above all, a Mafia-centered fantasy wonderfully packed with interesting characters and possessing a subtlety suitable to the workings of Don Corleone himself. Despite the fact that it may be considered "pulp fiction," Mario Puzo has put quite a lot of talent and hard work into The Godfather, making it an unforgettable book of utmost quality. Excellent for a summer read and enjoyable all-around, The Godfather is a well-written American epic and a modern classic.

Grade: A

Book 15: Hiroshima

Hiroshima
John Hersey

What an exceptionally sparse, yet moving book. Hersey went to Hiroshima a year after the devastating nuclear bomb strike of August 1945 and interviewed several victims of the blast, producing this shocking and matter-of-fact account of the strike and its immediate aftermath, giving modern readers and contemporary readers alike an intricate picture of the havoc wreaked by this inhuman monster of modern warfare. Hersey succeeds mostly because he does not sentimentalize the victims or their plights: his prose is straightforward and journalistic. Hersey knows to sit back and let the events unfold in the reader's imagination, and his restraint makes the book effective despite its dry, jounalistic tone. Throughout the small book there are hints of interweaving stories but these threads are never forced and are left to unfold as they will and, despite the book's focus on six individuals, those people are well-connected and provide a seemingly comprehensive glimpse into the horrors of the world's entrance into the new nuclear era.

Hersey wisely begins without much backstory or elaborate set-ups. He simply presents his six main characters as they were precisely when the bomb was dropped, a stark shift from everyday life to the depths of psychological horrors beyond the normal imagination. Hersey does an excellent job of capturing the frantic sense of confusion in his rapid shifts between the interviewees and their situations; though this makes the narrative confusing for the reader, the narrative is effective because each story is sufficiently individual and social to fit within the greater scope of the work. Hersey traces the victims through the immediate aftermath and then swings wide to look at the months after the bombing; this transition is a bit awkward and inconsistent between the individual stories but nonetheless offers appropriate senses of both closure and enduring effects. Hiroshima may not be a particularly exciting or sentimental story of a nuclear bomb strike, but it is a deeply moving piece of journalism that should be read by any and all even considering the potential benefits and hazards of using nuclear weapons. Despite its focus on a culture entirely removed from our own, it is not hard for modern readers to find their own colleagues and family members among Hersey's starkly rendered characters: Hiroshima is a testament to the horrible power of human imagination and, without falling victim to overarching pronouncements on human nature, retains a power in and of itself to comment on the human condition. This book is an exercise in minimalism entirely appropriate to its subject and is thus entirely successful.

Grade: A

Book 14: The Sleeper Awakes

The Sleeper Awakes
H.G. Wells

I have always been interested in time-travel narratives, and H.G. Wells, being one of the preeminent fathers of science fiction, has naturally thrown his hat into the ring. Unfortunately, his predictions of the future have not aged well, though they are sometimes remarkably accurate and show an interesting glimpse of what life was like while he was writing. The Sleeper Awakes, while not a bonafide classic of science fiction, nonetheless presents an intriguing look at the year 2100 that reflects as much on his own time as on our own (which is almost precisely in between Wells's own time and the novel's imagined future). Useful for its vision, Wells is often unclear and the narrative often cluttered, alternating too infrequently between long passages of description, which often become boring and tiresome, and action that often occurs far too quickly to be followed by the reader. Wells has intriguing ideas, but is ultimately unable to combine them with a gripping plot to form a successful book; the pacing is, frankly, terrible, but the book is far from horrible.

The main thrust of Wells's story is the continuing and changing education of Graham, the protagonist who awakes in a foreign world to find that, due to interest and investments on his behalf, he is absolute owner of the future London. Unfortunately, the audience is as clueless as Graham and any subtle hints are entirely missed in the confusion. There is something to be said for experiencing this disorienting future alongside the unfortunate lost soul, but throughout most of the first half of the novel there is no hint of a coherent plot or landscape; everything is muddy and the vertigo experienced by the reader is entirely unpleasant. To top it off, much of this section is devoted to descriptions that end up going nowhere, with almost no plot to hold the reader's interest and justify further reading. Thankfully, the second half sees a spurt of action and connects many of the loose threads from the first half of the novel, but unfortunately these are explained to Graham and he has almost no sense of discovery. For an ultimate ruler, he has strikingly little power and insufficient psychological depth to carry the book.

The reason the book is not a total waste, however, is its predictions, which offer interesting insights into both the 1890s and the historical trajectory of the present. Sure, we don't have single person monoplanes, but modern readers must remember that Wells wrote The Sleeper Awakes a few years before the historic Wright Brothers' flights at Kitty Hawk; what Wells does predict is a sense of open-air combat and dogfighting that remains relevant, though less so, today. This prediction, along with visions of feeding tubes and babble machines (almost literally "talking heads"- sound familiar?) presents a realistic view of our own world and is remarkably prescient, even for a 1921 revision. Wells hit the nail right on the head regarding the population migration into cities and away from rural areas; though he did not forsee the sprawling suburbs of the middle class, he accurately assumed great shifts of people that reflect not only the physical reality of modern urban/suburban spaces but also communities on the Internet and the general sense of globalization that we live with. More interesting than his technology, perhaps, is Wells's vision of future politics. Though, thankfully, we have not seen a resurgence of slavery, the urban underclass today is arguably enslaved by the modern capitalist system. Wells is far from a Marxist and the politics of his novel end ambiguously, but his view of the natural extension of capitalism cannot be ruled out as a viable possibility. Unlikely, maybe, but there are traces of modernity in this fictional system that pits the people against a tyrant ruling "in their name". Most shockingly, this scenario was made full flesh in the Soviet Union under Stalin, and is not impossible under the increasingly top-heavy American capitalist system today.

Overall, then, The Sleeper Awakes is trapped between two extremes: its writing leaves much to be desired and sputters only to suddenly fling the reader along at full speed, but its actual content is relevant and intriguing. The pacing is uneven and ragged, leaving the reader often as lost as Graham, which is not necessarily to the novel's benefit. On the other hand, Wells has proven his credibility in predicting future trends. This book is illuminating for its visions of the future of yesterday and that future's relationship to our own familiar world. Anyone interested in futurology or Victorian visions of today would be interested in this book's raw predictions, though the plot leaves a bit to be desired. Politicians would be wise to read this book in good faith, and Wells carefully treads the line between Marxism and capitalism in his politics. The book ends in an ambiguity that is not frustrating but amazingly appropriate, ensuring that The Sleeper Awakes is at least relevant and interesting to niche audiences.

Grade: B

Book 13: Angels in America

Angels in America
Tony Kushner

I was worried at first about reviewing this epic work, mostly because it is a play and I tend to stick to prose. Upon reading it, however, I found myself fully engrossed by the plot and characters, all of whom are intricately interesting if lumped into certain categories and occasionally insufficiently developed. Angels in America is nothing if not ambitious, but occasionally it reaches too high and sacrifices realitic plot lines or dialogue (even for a fantasy, some of it is a stretch) for sheer wonder, which often leads to confusion and requires the re-reading of several passages. Indeed, if I had not seen the HBO adaptation immediately upon finishing the play, many of the crucial plot points and character interactions would continue to elude me. Kushner's work is well-executed and gives an interesting glimpse into modern America, but it is lacking in a few crucial ways.

Kushner centers on the AIDS crisis as a turning point for America, a hinge upon which the door of the Millennium is about to swing shut. The main characters are introduced economically and, especially through Kushner's liberal use of description, get a good sense of who they are. All of them are at a breaking point and each scenario is realistic and heartwrenching as relationships fall apart. The play's dialogue is usually believable, though some rants (such as Louis talking to Belize in a diner) seem entirely out of character and, while adding important thematic depth to the play's dismantling of modern America, are out of place and annoying. Despite some extraneous matter and rampant stereotyping (all gay men do not call each other "girl"), each character is fully realized and many develop incredibly throughout the play, which traces its set of coincidental encounters very carefully and in a straightforward, often funny, manner. Kushner's characters are three dimensional, vibrant, and are the major reason that the play succeeds.

It is when the Angel of America enters that things get a bit muddy. While I am no opponent to fantasy elements, the Angel is done clumsily and is often too Biblical without adequate preparation. While the central problem facing America is old news (think Nietzsche), it is handled with originality and fits within the scope of the play, which pits the conservativism of Angels and, well, conservatives, against the inevitable tide of change and progress. The play unfortunately misses the mark and spends too much energy condemning Ronald Reagan and his brand of conservatism; while AIDS is at the center of the play it is largely ignored thematically and becomes just another disease. The play could almost be about cancer and retain crucial elements. Ultimately, Kushner is a bit too forward with his personal political opinions and does not forge them into something useful for understanding his characters or the play's relationship to America.

Certain elements of the play, such as Joe Pitt's inner struggles, are at once brilliantly depicted and utterly ignored; on one hand, we see him grow and fail to grow. On the other, there is no indication of what is going on within his head. These flaws embody the main problems with the play. Humor is misplaced and awkward: "Millennium Approaches" (the first half) is far more serious than "Perestroika" and the tone change does not make any sense, as their events overlap. Kushner alternately adopts postures of deepest gravity and strange, ironic humor, which do not mix well in this particular story. The play is interesting and certainly isn't bad, but ultimately it is a bit too pretentious and tries to do too much. Kushner underestimates the power of subtlety and, though introducing wonderful ghosts (Ethel Rosenberg is fantastic) and a fairly well-conceived extended metaphor, aims a bit too high to be truly great. This play deserves revisiting, as my experiences with the miniseries prove, but as a first-time reading experience it disappoints.

Grade: B

Book 12: Motherless Brooklyn

Motherless Brooklyn
Jonathan Lethem

Even after considering this book in class, an exercise that usually raises my opinion of a book, this book is still simply mediocre. It has its high points and its low points and definitely shows that Lethem has talent and is comfortable with a film noir, grimy New York City feel. When all of the pieces of the book come together, however, none stands out and shines. Motherless Brooklyn is interesting and mildly engaging but nothing jumps off of the page. It will not lodge itself irresistably in your consciousness, nor will it inspire rage at pretention or sheer inability (neither of which factor in at all). The book in this sense achieves the almost impossible: it simply exists.

Lowpoints of the novel come, unfortunately, with its plot. While Lethem's take on the traditional story of orphans finding a father figure in a brutal world is engaging and interesting, it isn't strikingly original. The fact that four Brooklyn orphans become henchmen for a small-time mobster and generally shady figure is hardly surprising and follows conventions. The plot plods along at a reasonable pace, again continually interesting but never achieving the thrilling feeling of a chase; though the book's first car chase is incredibly well done and creates a page-turning chapter, its more climactic second chase is, again, merely on display. This is the main problem with the novel: though it is, at heart, a mystery story (albeit with a strong emphasis on character rather than plot, which is fine), Motherless Brooklyn simply lacks the intrigue that belongs in the genre. There is nothing wrong with defying conventions or stretching them. However, when a reader encounters a certain type of novel it can't hurt to carefully consider when to break form and strike new territory. The mystery's strongest selling point, its incredible tension and continual turning of the screws, is missing by the end of the book. Even when Lethem does include a genre-satisfying piece (more specifically, the wrap-up that explains all), it is befuddled and doesn't clarify the events of the story. Life is complicated, but such a simple and, let's face it, predictable outcome at least warrants a clear explanation.

All this aside, the novel does provide some excellent insights into the human condition; its strong sense of character is almost unrivalled to the point where it feels unfair to judge the book's plot at all negatively. Lethem's main chracter, Lionel, is living with Tourette's syndrome and, even better, he narrates. The glimpses we get into Lionel's stuttering, stream-of-conciousness mind (both through his narration of thoughts and out loud) are illuminating and familiar to those whose brains have ever made rapid, almost untraceable connections. Lionel gets a bit corny when talking about his relationship to Frank Minna, his father figure, but he is always engaging and is endlessly fascinating. Despite the fact that he is cut almost whole from stereotypical cloth, he comes alive and piques interest in his story. His words seem real and his outbursts come naturally.

What's unfortunate about the book is that the story of Lionel's journey and detective work doesn't do justice to his account thereof. His syndrome defines him, helps him, and hinders him, but though it is seamlessly integrated into the story, the plot remains stagnant. Twists can be seen from miles away and never reach toward satisfying conclusions. This is terribly unfortunate coming out of a writer with such undeniable talent. Brooklyn comes alive in this novel so much that I feel I have been there even without visiting. The supporting cast, though relegated to flat background in most cases, are at least interesting for their expected and unexpected reactions to Lionel- stereotypical or not, they allow the reader to experience Lionel from the outside, at least temporarily. Lionel is one of the most original narrators I have yet encountered. Rather than sentimentalizing Lionel's challenges, Lethem allows him to simply live with them, an illuminating experience that makes the novel worth reading despite its lack of excitement. Motherless Brooklyn is ultimately a novel comprised of individually excellent parts that never quite cohere into a whole. It is neither a must-read nor a waste of time. For a few hours of entertainment and perhaps some moments of self-reflection, readers can do much worse.

Grade: B

Book 11: Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories

Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories
Rynosuke Akutagawa

This is a sadly unknown collection of stories, wonderfully eclectic and incredibly insightful. Though inextricably married to their time and place (interwar Japan), Akutagawa’s stories provide vivid, beautiful settings and explore deep human truths that exist far beyond Japan. The sheer variety present in this collection is a testament to his talent, sadly abridged by his suicide. Though the stories vary in quality, each is intriguing and raises interesting questions about the human condition and about the ways in which we justify the darker sides of human nature, themes that Akutagawa unapologetically explores. It is no surprise that an author whose work includes the story "Hell Screen" is concerned with depravity and a strange fascination with death. The organization of this particular volume, which is split into four distinct thematic sections, highlights Akutagawa’s shifting perspective and the shadows that haunted him as he contemplated his own approaching end.

The first section of the book is easily its weakest. Stories such as "The Nose" and "Dragon: The Old Potter’s Tale" are merely revamped fairy tales and have a certain didactic air. The latter is almost an exercise in stereotype and is quickly forgotten, though "The Spider Thread" easily belongs to this category of glorified morality plays without becoming overbearing or stereotypical. The other stories in this section, "Rashomon," "In a Bamboo Grove," and "Hell Screen," defy this classification and are interesting despite what they may owe to contemporary Japanese folk culture. The first is subtle and easily sets the tone for the remainder of the collection, dark but startlingly accurate, a vision of humanity that, despite its gruesome subject matter, refuses to be separated far from a happier life. "In a Bamboo Grove" is an exercise in perspective that reads as a factual account of various testimonies; its views on subjectivity must be derived by the reader. The story, if we call it such, is fully engaging and explores fundamental truths without being for a second didactic: it demands response, but only implicitly. "Hell Screen" is the other standout in this opening movement, and it foreshadows some of the pitch black content awaiting in further pages. A remarkable character study, the story becomes a meditation on art while retaining a distance that allows the reader to examine its contents at will.

Other stories in this collection are equally disturbing despite their variation, and almost every one is a knockout. "Horse Legs" retains Akutagawa’s fondness for the fable while adding an interesting twist, a fantasy for sure but with a degree of realism in its narrator that makes it compelling despite its clear disregard for reality. Akutagawa utilizes interesting and engaged first-person narration throughout to create a unique blend of fantasy and reality that, despite definite fantastic elements, seems utterly realistic. His gift for entering the minds of his narrators and portraying the world as they see it so vividly renders their Japan that no story seems out of place. Even the overbearing narrative missteps in some of the early fables and later autobiographical compositions are forgivable when factored into the validity of the stories’ contexts.

What is most striking about this collection is that, despite its complete other-ness from modern America and its easy substitution of imagination for reality, Akutagawa’s stories feel so powerfully real and resonate so clearly today. This particular collection of his work is continually engaging and traces an interesting arc by presenting its stories in roughly chronological order, with thematic separation. The notes provided help with extra contextual points that aid a modern reader’s understanding, but are not so overbearing as to promote a specific reading of a particular story. The collection is remarkably round and consistent despite a few early missteps, and its latter self-consciousness is easily forgivable in the context of the author’s depression and downward spiral. Akutagawa unapologetically reveals the dark recesses of the human soul in new and surprising ways throughout his stories, and his talent and insight certainly warrant a revival of his writings in the English-speaking world.

Grade: A

Book 10: Middlesex

Middlesex
Jeffrey Eugenides

Though I’d read this book before, there were a lot of surprises upon re-reading it (especially so soon), and a second reading of Eugenides confirms his talent as one of the most brilliant American writers working today. Where other authors may struggle to knit together disparate narratives, Eugenides shines and creates an interwoven subtext. There are many techniques deployed in this book that, theoretically, should sink it. Instead, each potential pitfall adds to the sense of epic as the book transcends time and is, in many ways, a fine example of The Great American Novel.

Take Cal, the narrator, for example. Cal is intersex, meaning that he possesses both male and female genetalia. Instead of saving this surprise for the corresponding moment in Cal’s own history, Eugenides explains the novel’s secret right off the bat. No plot point is spoiled, however, and the narrative sails along easily, always sure where its headed but with surprises throughout. It is a mystery to me how Middlesex is filled with such intrigue page in and page out: Cal very pointedly narrates from the present, but it continually remains interesting how he got there. Cal’s self-consciousness also illuminates rather than degrades the text. His pointed observations about his own past (including commenting on the likelihood of his birth as his parents delay their lovemaking) are hilarious and inject the text with verve necessary to such a sprawling work. Cal keeps the novel’s scope under control while continually expanding it to include approximately 80 years of direct narration (with gaps, of course).

Additionally, Eugenides uses Cal’s differences appropriately. While the book obviously deals with gender problems and the ultimate debate about the relative influence of genetic and societal determinism, Cal’s unique perspective is used to subtly undermine other themes that permeate the text. The racical history of Detroit and the Stephanides family’s own struggles to become white are interesting parallels to Cal’s shifting between and embodiment of both genders. The comparison is never forced but provides interesting intellectual fodder. That is the fundamental power of Middlesex: it at once hits its readers over the head while challenging them to probe more deeply, promising results without becoming pretentious. Cal is likable and surprisingly easy to relate to (full disclosure: I was once a teenage girl and I’m somewhat familiar with the Detroit area since college).

The story itself is gripping and embodies the American experience without trying too hard, which is shocking considering the almost extraneous insertion of the great immigration story of Cal’s grandparents. The book’s chronology begins not in Detroit but in modern-day Turkey, a faraway world at once achingly familiar and strikingly foreign to Cal, but it sets up its characters so fully and so convincingly that, for a while, it doesn’t matter that their history may have been tangential to Cal’s in a more conventional novel. The sense of urgency with which Cal traces his family history is imparted also onto the reader, who happily recreates the bustling Detroit of the automobile’s heyday and postwar suburbia. Eugenides moves between settings and characters with alarming ease and includes enough rich detail to make each stage of Cal’s genetic history inevitable within the novel’s framework and thematically relevant to Cal’s own struggle for identity.

Eugenides employs stock characters (the worrying foreign grandmother, the cantankerous ex-Navy man) and injects them with life and, of course, history so that they transcend their stereotypes and become those real people upon whom stock characters are based. There are no flat characters and no real stretches of the imagination- even Jimmy Zizmo’s remarkable transition seems appropriate to his consistently slick modes of operation. Likewise, the book is at once preachy and endearing, its platitudes fitting in within their context and gaining power from their placement.

It’s impossible to hate this book for its ambitions, which are great and somewhat pompous. Quite simply, Middlesex succeeds. It imparts its lessons by giving them while explaining them clearly in context. This is due in no small part to Cal’s outstanding narration: his ability to reflect on his own experiences makes the novel come alive and, by book’s end, it seems highly likely that there is a Calliope Stephanides inhabiting the world somewhere at this very moment. Cal is real and his story gains traction because he presents it so self-consciously and is so involved at every step of the way. The story is engrossing precisely because it is framed. From Lefty and Desdemona’s dubious choices in the mountains of Turkey to Cal’s budding romance with Julie Kukuchi, Middlesex holds back nothing and takes absolutely no prisoners. This is a real history of Detroit and a gritty look at the ways in which we define life. Oh, yeah. It’s narrated by an intersex character, certainly not an afterthought but a fact that informs the novel without overwhelming it. Eugenides is simply superb.

Grade: A

Book 9: The Best American Short Stories 2006

The Best American Short Stories 2006
Edited by Ann Patchett

Like any collection of various authors and works, this anthology has its highs and lows. What's most surprising is the fact that so many of the so-called "best stories of 2006" are, in fact, rather bland. Though each story has its merits, the collection suffers from a lack of evenness across the board. Some stories leap off of the page and others fade to black as middle-aged soul searching. The collection could have benefited from some thoughtful organization, as well. Though Ann Patchett's notion of the fairness of organizing by last name (in reverse) is well-utilized in larger or more theoretical collections, here it only makes the stories a muddled mass. She has already gone through thousands of stories to select the best; she may as well assign an order to them, perhaps betraying a bit of her own reaction. The collection jumps radically from story to story; occasionally, two like-minded stories will show up next to each other, detracting from their novelty as their similarities overwhelm the reader. Instead of evoking fairness, this lack of meta-consideration bogs the collection down and makes Patchett seem lazy and her choices more arbitrary than they must have been.

The stories themselves, however, are often brilliant and almost always entertaining. "The Ambush" by Donna Tartt and "So Much for Artemis" are the best representatives of the nostalgia set, each revealing something about childhood that is often difficult to articulate and adding verve to an era before my own time. Thomas McGuane's "Cowboy" is a brilliant exercise in voice and point of view, enticing and rewarding once the reader gets the hang of the language. Likewise, Alice Munro's "The View from Castle Rock" transports readers across space and time to an unconventional (yet sufficiently representative) immigrant experience with ease, surprisingly relevant and consistent within its setting. A late great in the collection is "The Casual Car Pool" by Katherine Bell, a story that may suffer from breadth of scope but which nonetheless is fascinating in its look at modern interaction between strangers.

Patchett, though wimping out at the end, has done a good job choosing a broad set of excellent stories to represent 2006 in this storied series. Though the stories can be unnecessarily ambitious (Ann Beattie and Harry Mathews try far too hard in "Mr. Nobody At All"), each one has something to offer the discerning reader. Time will not be wasted in browsing this collection, though it does encourage sporadic jumping around instead of one collective reading experience.

Grade: A-

Book 8: Neuromancer

Neuromancer
William Gibson

This book was my introduction to cyberpunk and I have to say, despite some limitations with this specific book, the setting was absolutely electrifying and absorbing. Gibson's gritty future unfolds in front of the viewer's eyes, a complete panorama of swirling neon in a vision shockingly close to the future we currently inhabit. Neuromancer's characters are compelling and flawed, vividly portrayed despite the book's reliance on heavily confusing and twisting plot elements; Gibson undoubtedly is a man of vision but, like Chiba City and The Sprawl, his vision often becomes unnecessarily cluttered and confusing to the uninitiated.

Neuromancer is, at heart, a cyber-thriller about fast paced crime and the underworld of a depressingly seedy future. The setting feels real and the focus on grime over glitter is a compelling one. Cyberpunk simply would not function without its "punk" element, and this book brings it in force. From the first page, the reader identifies with a thief, an underground addict who operates on shady morals but who clearly follows his own moral code. Case is realistic and undoubtedly more exciting to follow than any middle-class denizens of this world, who remain aloof and only pop in for brief bouts of hard-hitting social satire. Gibson rounds out his basic setting with a strangely realistic vision of cyberspace, an alternate reality that can interact with the real world but which represents a different reality altogether. Its similarities to the modern Internet are uncanny, and technology in the book is explained thoroughly without long-winded technical specs or obviously planted dialogue. The technology, like the world, simply leaps off of the page and constructs its own reality.

What is unfortunate is that the book is somewhat limited by its too-intricate plot twists. The action of Neuromancer is fast paced to match its setting, but far too often the reader is lost in the dust, struggling to keep up amongst the jargon and Case's own misunderstandings of technology. Even after finishing the book, I am confused as to why certain characters took certain sides. The book has a feel of constant grasping, as if something has been missed that would provide the key to understanding. Gibson's world is so real and so jarring that it is possible that the ratio of setting to plot is simply too equal, and my own reading focused too heavily on the former. Regardless, Gibson's reluctance to state the obvious occasionally works agaisnt him as concepts take too long to settle in and become familiar, often long after they become crucial to the events unfolding.

Overall, Neuromancer is unmatched in providing a realistic and intriguing setting. This vision of the future is as fully realized as one can hope for, including its very real links to the present (both 1984 and 2008). Despite their occasionally elusive nature, the characters are compelling and would be at home in further examinations of their lives. Molly Millions is especially well-realized and occasionally overshadows Case, the novel's obvious main character. Reading this book is an enveloping experience that creates a desire to experience the setting, a feat accomplished only by the most nuanced literary visionaries. Despite Gibson's notorious lack of knowledge about computers, he is spot-on in his visions of technology and the future of not only computer systems but also plastic surgery and perhaps politics and business as well. Though Neuromancer is often confusing and cluttered, it is worth reading for the scope of its vision alone. I suspect, too, that its plot will settle a bit on a second reading; the book is so full that there is almost too much brilliance to take in on the first time around.

Grade: A-