Used Books Blog

Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs is an over-the-top memoir that walks the tightrope line between magnetism and repulsion, between curiosity and the desire to know more and the impulse to shout ‘too much information’ and cover your ears while loudly singing ‘la la la’.

There’s a lot to like in Burroughs’ writing and in areas you feel like you’re making a connection with the author, that it is a true memoir. The topic of whether a memoir is ‘real’ has been a hot topic lately. Starting with James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces, bouncing off of David Sedaris and now squarely on Augusten Burroughs, the idea that memoirs are factual is highly subjective. In fact, reality is highly subjective which is why two memoirs of the same event could be and most likely are very different.

So, I don’t ding Burroughs for writing through the filter that is his mind and experience. All good writers do this and no one should be surprised at the differing views on a subjective experience. But is it evocative and effective for the reader? I’m still inclined to believe that fiction is a better proxy for relating real life experience than the memoir format. I definitely subscribe to the axiom that there’s more truth in fiction.

I enjoyed most of Magical Thinking, though being a Sedaris fan it’s difficult not to draw some comparisons between the two. And I’d choose Sedaris hands down. I find Sedaris to be more steady and even in his most shocking, there’s something … else going on that anchors his text.

Burroughs starts out strong, with back-to-back winners about his childhood with ‘Commercial Break’ and ‘Vanderbilt Genes’. These are quirky, insightful pieces that are both hard and tender at the same time. He scores again with ‘Debby’s Requirements’ a very interesting story about relationships and work life balance. ‘Holy Blow Job’ walks the line but works; ‘Ass Burger’ is another gem and isn’t at all what you think it might be about. Finally, ‘Life Cycle of the North American Opossum’ and ‘Magical Thinking’ are both excellent vignettes. See, there’s a lot to like!

But then there’s ‘The Rat/Thing’ which is just a bit too ugly and drawn-out. It was clearly traumatic, but honestly, I don’t want to hear about it. I’d cozy up and ask an exterminator to tell me his greatest hits (pun intended) if I wanted this type of story. There’s also ‘I Dated an Undertaker’ which is more shock-and-awe, and feels like a poorly done Six Feet Under spin-off.

There are references to a very disturbing childhood and a laundry list about his love life and personal habits which make him seem quite shallow. In some ways, reading Burroughs is like hanging around after a fire or a train wreck. You’re interested in seeing how it all turns out and asking officials how it happened. But you don’t do this in real life, instead you move on and give people their space and feel better for doing so.

Burroughs shines when he doesn’t grandstand and when he’s not over-seasoning his text with shock value. At times he presents himself as a card-board cutout, when what I really want is his real-self invested in the pages. All at once, Burroughs complains and promotes this type of over-sharing shock-value material with his reference to Dr. Pepper. I won’t relate the details here since the story will attach itself to the drink for a long time. I can’t help but flash on the topic when gazing into the drink case.

I recommend Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs but only for those with an iron-cast stomach.

Wasp by Eric Frank Russell is the first in what I’m calling a Retro Review. These are books that I’ve read in the past instead of recently and are most likely older books that aren’t currently in popular circulation. I’m also using the cover art for the edition I have on my bookshelf. Thank you to the Denver Science Fiction & Fantasy Book Club from which I sourced this image.

The artwork was a big reason why I picked this out ages ago when I was in my teens. My dad had - still has - a large collection of science-fiction paperbacks in the basement. So, when I wanted something to read I’d go down and leaf through the musty books looking for something interesting. I’d often look for some of the names I’d come to rely upon: Heinlein, Laumer, Aldiss. But I could also be persuaded by a cool looking cover. Wasp was appealing (particularly the finger print font) and the quick teaser got me to open up the book and trudge up the stairs to start reading.

Wasp is about “intergalactic guerrilla warfare” and is based on the idea that small things can have big effects. The analogy is about how a wasp, “under half an ounce … killed four big men and converted a large, powerful car into a heap of scrap.” Furrowing your brow on that one? The scenario is that the driver is stung by a wasp and loses control of the car and crashes.

We follow James Mowry - reluctant hero - who is recruited as a wasp in the war between Terra and the Sirian Empire. Mowry is dropped on the planet Jaimec after undergoing training and surgery to blend into the humanoid Sirian population. What transpires next is a taut, but darkly comic look at psychological warfare.

After 9/11 and with terrorism such a buzz word, Wasp has been revived, discussed and debated. I’ve read Wasp twice and just can’t get myself lathered up about it being too close to home. Newly minted critics feel it’s a bad example. The thing is, most of what Mowry does is psychological warfare and not outright terrorism. Mowry creates a mythical rebel organization, places stickers and decals on storefronts, writes menacing letters and places fake wire-tapping devices in high-profile government buildings.

Wasp is about how to use communications to create paranoia and fear. In that way, I find it extremely relevant and interesting. But to tell the truth, each time I’ve read Wasp I simply fell into a reverie of rooting for David against Goliath while marveling and chuckling at the way in which Mowry went about his business. Russell’s Wasp is far more like reading one of Laumer’s Retief novels - a fun, yet intelligent, winking at the reader space opera.

It’s only after enjoying the tight plot line and too cool Mowry that you might connect the dots to present day geopolitics.

Perhaps the title of O.J. Simpson’s If I Did It should be Will You Buy It?

Barnes and Noble has already decided not to stock the title, while Border’s will stock it but “will not promote or market the book in any way.” Though, clearly the media controversy will do the promotion for the book.

The Current Events editor at Vizu thought this was a good topic and ran a poll that asked the following question:

How likely are you to buy OJ Simpson’s “If I Did It” book when it hits stores?

The results (with over 100 responses and counting) indicate that 4 out of 5 polled will ‘definitely not’ buy the Simpson book. I’m guessing Barnes and Noble may have done similar research and decided that the potential demand (low) wasn’t worth the potential consumer backlash (high).

However, what people say and what they do are often very different. I’m guessing there would be a big difference between action and deed surrounding Nicholson Baker’s Vox. Usually I’d say that anything that gets folks to read is a good thing, but I’m hoping this goes into the remainder bin right away.

What about you? Will you buy Simpson’s If I Did It?

It’s time again for the Used Books Blog quotation contest. Last month’s contest was won by Chris Tozer of Cat’s Cradle Booksellers, who correctly identified a quote from Ghostwritten by David Mitchell.

This month I’ve plucked another quote from the ocean of literature available in hopes of keeping you up late racking your brains and thumbing through your bookshelf for the answer.

When she started kindergarten, he began to hang the sign on her door every morning, in the form of a single word. At first it was a game for her, to wake each morning with great excitement and see what waited on the door. Early on, the daily sign reflected his expectations and aspirations in the first words of English he had so resolutely taught himself upon his expatriation from Japan to the United States: EXCELLENT. AMBITIOUS. DETERMINED. SUCCESSFUL. Only as the years went by did the sign on the door monitor both her fall into trivial girlish adolescence and the commensurate, steady deterioration of his approval, branding her life with the ways she let him down: DISAPPOINTING. LAZY. SILLY. FAILURE.

Think you know? Simply leave a comment and identify the title and author of the quote. Thanks for playing and good luck!

Whale Season by N.M. Kelby aspires to be a Carl Hiaasen-like romp. This Florida tale is populated with quirky characters, film-like dialog, and a pretty standard humor-crime-drama plot. (What is that? ‘Drimor’?) It’s good summer reading, that reaches - and fails - to be more.

There’s nothing wrong with N.M. Kelby’s Whale Season - except that she’s in the shadow of Carl Hiaasen. I like Hiaasen. His work is straight and tight, slick but not overly so. His characters seem real enough and the insight provided isn’t forced. The goal is to entertain, not to challenge the reader to higher thinking or to arrive at some epiphany. This is where Whale Season loses it’s focus.

Kelby walks the line between beach reader and a more introspective read. The plot revolves around a serial killer who passes himself off on Jesus, who lands in the tangled lives of Dagmar, Leon, Jimmy Ray, Trot and Carlotta. Dagmar and Leon are divorced and there is real tragedy in their background. Carlotta is the new girl in town, and is dating Leon, much to Trot’s chagrin. Thing is, Trot and Leon are best friends. Jimmy Ray is a blues musician, and Buddhist with a penchant for sage quotes, who has taken Dagmar under his wing, and vice versa.

Jesus as serial killer moves things along and it is Leon who turns into the central character of Whale Season. It’s here that he recalls his childhood, fraught with conflicting emotions about his family’s now closed alligator tourist attraction, and his recent family life with Dagmar. Here’s where Whale Season misses in my opinion.

There’s good stuff here that could be developed into a rich and vibrant story about Leon, a ‘Rabbit’ Angstrom type character of Florida. Instead, you only get small bits and they collide strangely with the tone of the rest of the story. Ditto the death koans that Jimmy Ray employs in his dialog. It’s interesting but seems like it belongs in a different book.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Whale Season. It was a good breather between heavier books. I simply think there are far better summer reads. Whale Season is a fast food book that’s using whole wheat buns, soy cheese and organic lettuce to obscure the real meat at the center.

A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby is a novel about four very different people who unexpectedly meet on the top of a high-rise building on New Year’s Eve. Great rooftop party perhaps? No. As the title might give away, all four found their way to the roof to commit suicide. Sounds depressing, but if you’ve read (or seen) any of Hornby’s work you’ll know that it will be a (dark) comic romp.

Sure enough, A Long Way Down is a hyper-glib rim-shot of a novel that uses humor to explore the topics of loneliness, desolation and loss. Nearly all of Hornby’s work has a dark, troublesome theme residing at its core. His work is about how people find their way in the world, how they deal with hardship, how they … manage, which at times seems tough at best and impossible at worst. Laughter seems the best medicine.

Hornby has a bit of real-life experience to draw upon in this arena, given that his son is autistic. It’s tough for me not to read some of that background into his portrayal of Maureen, a middle-aged single mother with a severely handicapped son who keeps her housebound most of the time. The difficulty of that love shines around the wit of the words like an aura. You can’t help but feel it there.

The three other characters are Martin, a scandalized daytime tabloid star; JJ, a rock musician who believes his life is his career and his career is finished; and Jess, a young foul-mouthed girl without an emotional filter who lives in the shadow of her missing older sister. None of the four jump from the roof that night. Don’t worry, that’s not a spoiler! The book is about how they get on. It’s about how they band together and continue to live, despite their differences and despite any real fairy tale ending.

I like Hornby’s work and picked him up when High Fidelity was in paperback. I find it notable that his work translates extremely well to the big screen. While High Fidelity the movie was good, About A Boy the movie may be better than the book given the great performance by Hugh Grant. Speaking of Hugh Grant, it might be a stretch but the character of Martin seems like it could be loosely based on the scandalized actor.

A Long Way Down also covers some of the same material as Douglas Coupland’s Eleanor Rigby and there are similarities in wit and tone. However, the plot and format of A Long Way Down is somewhat formulaic. And even the interplay and dialog, while funny, doesn’t quite encapsulate the book. In the end, it’s a mood and a determination of life that is extracted.

It feels good, and at the end of the day that’s what most of Hornby’s work seems to wish upon the reader.

More and more movies seem to be based on books. I take this as a good sign in many respects, but I often wonder if people are actually reading these books. Did everyone read Ludlum’s Bourne Ultimatum before scurrying to the theater last weekend to see Matt Damon? (As an aside, could the careers of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck be any different?!) Now, I haven’t seen the newest Bourne, but then again I rarely see things in the theater now that I have a toddler. However, I haven’t read any of the Bourne series thus far, and can’t see myself doing so prior to seeing the latest installment.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t see the merit in reading a book before seeing the movie. There are a number of books that you simply must read before you see the movie. It would be a crime if you watched Breakfast of Champions before reading the book. Actually, it might be a crime to simply watch that movie. Look at what Kevin Costner did to David Brin’s The Postman … if you can. And what of any of the Philip K. Dick movie translations?

There are some movies which can stand on their own, that you wouldn’t need to read the book to enjoy. The House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus, III jumps to mind, but I’d be one of those who would annoy theatergoers and say ‘but the book was better.’ I’d be right though.

So as the editor of the lifestyle category for the Vizu network, I ran a poll that asked the question: If based on a novel, do you like to read the book before seeing the movie?

• 45% said it would depend on the book/movie
• 31% said yes
• 19% said no, they’d just see the movie
• 5% said no, they’d just read the book

I was pleased that only 19% said they’d just see the movie, and think it bodes well for the continuing power of the written word. Out of nearly 500 responses, 4 out of 5 indicated that they would read or consider reading the book before seeing the movie.

I’d fall squarely in the ‘it depends’ category since I wouldn’t read a Grisham before seeing a movie adaptation, but would certainly read Everything is Illuminated prior to seeing that film. I’ d like to see Jarhead, but won’t until I read the book. Some, I won’t even see the movie because I don’t want the version I’ve created in my head to be in any way changed. A recent example of this would be The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

So let’s get some chatter going, what movie adaptations would you never see? Which ones would you need to read the book prior to seeing the movie?

You Suck by Christopher Moore is funny, dead funny. That’s a bit of a joke since the main characters are vampires. This is actually the sequel to Bloodsucking Fiends, so we are reacquainted with Jody, the hot red-headed vampire and Thomas C. Flood, a sexually charged, slightly nerdy Indiana native who came to San Francisco to be a writer and now finds himself a vampire instead. Like all of Moore’s work, the plot is quick and snappy, the descriptions vivid, the dialog crackling and the satire first-rate. And while I enjoyed You Suck, it felt a bit like paint by numbers.

I couldn’t help but think that this was something Moore just came up with in between new material. It felt like the product of fans pestering him for a ‘what happened next?’ scenario, leading to a supercharged week of caffeine induced writing. The beauty of most of Moore’s work is that he creates these believable but ludicrous worlds that are rich in surreal nooks and crannies and populated by a side-show like zoo of characters. None of that is on display in You Suck because all that good stuff has already been developed.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still a few characters who rise to the occasion, including Abby Normal, an attitude laden Goth-like teen who gives the fuzz all they can handle, a hooker who is entirely blue and a shaved cat named Chet. See, if you haven’t read Moore before you’re already thinking this is one crazy dude - and you’d be right! Moore is not for the feint of heart, easily offended or politically correct. Everything is in play and nothing is sacred.

For one reason or another the following quote stuck in my head and still makes me smirk.

“Oh, someone made a comment about his cape being gray when we first got here, so he went home to redye all his blacks”

You’ll do your fair share of chuckling and smirking with You Suck, but dive into his other books for the full-on treatment.

Moneyball by Michael Lewis is not your typical sports book. Indeed, as I read the back of the book now, I notice that it’s classified as Sports/Business. I’m a sports fan, but haven’t ever gotten into sports books. I watch enough sports (my wife is quick to point that out) so I couldn’t see really doubling up and reading about it too. I’ve read a few bicycling books including the fantastic The Rider by Tim Krabbe. I also read and enjoyed Seabiscuit. (I caught a bit of the horse racing bug when I lived down in San Diego and took a shine to the Del Mar Fairgrounds.)

Moneyball is another fringe sports book, and is more business, numbers and statistics than sports. That, in a nutshell, is the plot of the book. Lewis follows the Oakland A’s Billy Beane as he brings rational, fact-based decision making to baseball. Now, let me preface the rest of my review by saying that I like numbers and statistics. Segmenting a database? Sounds fun to me! Running baseball statistics through a regression analysis? I’m intrigued! Now I’m not saying that you need to like numbers to enjoy Moneyball, but I think it helps.

It also helps that the A’s are one of my local teams. Living in the Bay Area you have the A’s and the Giants. I like both, but force my hand and I’d go with the A’s, even more so after reading Moneyball. I’d heard about Moneyball but just didn’t think I’d really dig a sports book. A former colleague at Alibris (now at Linden Labs aka Second Life) said I’d definitely like it. He sat in the cube next to me and clearly understood that this was a perfect blend of sports and numbers.

Sure enough I sped through this book - 4 round-trip sittings on BART - and was amazed that numbers weren’t used more in evaluating baseball talent. How could all these teams simply trust their gut? How could they see potential in a guy and ignore what was in black and white? How could they ignore the numbers because they didn’t look like a typical ballplayer? The idea that past performance indicated future performance was slightly foreign to many of the ‘old school’ baseball executives.

There’s another layer in the book, about the mental part of the game, about expectations and confidence and how they all get warped by the sport of baseball. And yet another about the ex-jocks and hangers-on in baseball who are threatened by the ‘nerds’ who bring a greater amount of clarity and accountability to their profession. Lewis was wise to include these more human elements so that the nuts and bolts of OBP and why walks were so valuable and stolen bases over-rated don’t overwhelm the book.

If you have any interest in how the A’s continue to win with one of the smallest payrolls, or enjoy reading about people who introduce a disruptive force in an old and inefficient system, then read Michael Lewis’ Moneyball.