Whiskey for the Holy Ghost

Whiskey for the Holy Ghost by Edward Mullany (2025) A fascinating, compelling book of very short stories of one paragraph each, most less than a single page. They’re broken up into seven sections (“Writers,” “Drinkers,” “Families,” etc.) though the subject matter might exceed those categories. Personally, I’m tempted to read the book as a novel—straight through—which I did—or even a “memoir”—though there’s no indication that it’s not all fiction. But it feels very personal, intensely intimate, even, though none of the stories are necessarily from the specific point of view of the author, Edward Mullany—and some definitely are not. But I could not help feeling, overall, a portrait of a life, and a way of thinking. The other intriguing thing is the overall style, which sets some strict rules—first and most striking is that each of the 100-plus stories is accompanied by a black and white line drawing—so that the stories are on the right facing page and the drawing opposite it. Nowhere is the artist credited, which leads me to believe not only is it the author, but the drawings are an integral part of the stories—and they really do—with a minimum of line—create distinct feelings. Great drawings! Sometimes they relate directly to the corresponding stories, or their titles, and sometimes they don’t—in any way I can figure. The same can be said for the titles. The other most striking stylistic “rule” is that the sentences are mostly very long with a lot of parenthetical asides that are only set off by commas, so they can be hard to follow, yet they get the feeling of a disjointed and disorganized verbal storyteller. But nowhere is used the dreaded (and my weakness) “em-dash,” parentheses brackets, or italics—so you’re free from those “crutches”—but you have to work a little, for meaning, sometimes. Also, interesting, some of the stories feel slight, unfinished, or without a point, while others are emotionally heavy, feeling like confessions, even—yet they all work together—they really do.

12.17.25

The Haunts of Drowning Creek

The Haunts of Drowning Creek by Manly Wade Wellman (1951) A pretty engaging boys’ adventure about two friends who decide to take a canoe trip along Drowning Creek—a real place, in North Carolina—real wilderness, overgrown trees, cottonmouths, all that—plus the world’s most dangerous animal—humans with gold fever. And indeed, there is a legend of hidden treasure up ahead. The story moves ahead with a deliberate pace—which I really do appreciate. You know there’s going to be some action, but I enjoy the mundane, as well—the depiction of canoeing on along the creek, camping, and making food. There’s some really great atmosphere and occasionally some pleasingly flowery writing. Of course, readers like me who saw the movie Deliverance (1972) (never read the novel!) can’t help being extra creeped out by some of the locals. But—even though there is danger—and some very bad men—the boys meet some new friends along the way—real characters, too—and as the adventure deepens, so do the rewards. And, let’s hope, some lasting friendships.

12.4.25

Shaker

Shaker by Scott Frank (2015) I listened an audio version of this book with a really good narrator (Dion Graham) after I heard the author—screenwriter and director, Scott Frank—on a podcast, and I was inspired by his process of writing it. Also, it seems like he likes a lot of the same stuff I do—so I related, there. It’s a pretty irresistible, addictive “page-turner,” on one hand—and I’m sure not going to either summarize or give away the story, okay? Also, it’s pretty convoluted, with a lot of characters coming and going—including long, detailed backstory sections that—while I’m often not into—I found really compelling—well-written and interesting. As it goes along, the level of violence keeps ramping up—which is saying something, because it depicts a lot of violence from the start—so I came close to putting it down, several times—too much for me. I’m not sure why—I felt manipulated by its over-the-top levels, maybe—or just turned off. But at the same time—I felt encouraged to continue, maybe because my favorite parts were the portraits of the career criminal, Roy—a fascinating, complex kind of half-person—and also, the woman cop with problems—Kelly. The ultimate-villain, Albert, however, I never got over feeling was too much—too much a Hollywood creation. I mean I know there are awful, cliché-humans out there, but I don’t need to spend time with them. Also, the backdrop of seismic activity is… maybe unnecessary? Kind of… all this plus the kitchen sink. That’s a lot of criticism, I guess, for a book I was definitely compelled (audio version, anyway) to follow to the end—and ended up liking.

11.20.25

The Case of the Missing Message

The Case of the Missing Message by Charles Spain Verral (1959) I never read a Brains Benton series mystery—finally found like #4, but then realized that this book, off my shelf, is actually the first in the series. Different author name—but I guess after this first one he used a penname. Also odd, there are only like six books—then a forty year plus gap—and then more, I believe by other authors. It’s a mystery—though probably too close to home for the Benton and Carson International Detective Agency, introduced within (not to be confused with the equally as elusive Carson Street Detective Agency). This book is from 1959, but my edition is from 1966, a “Golden Pleasure Book”—published in London—same size as the Whitman “Big Little Books”—also full of illustrations (not as many—it’s mostly text—but there’s some good ones, by J. Pecnard). It’s first person—a guy named Jimmy Carson (codename “Operative Three”) a regular kid (who turns out to be pretty extraordinary), with a paper route, etc.—who assists his genius (though turns out to be mortal) friend, Brains Benton (codename “X”—no doubt the inspiration behind the Twitter re-branding). I don’t think the “second” guy (Operative Two) was killed or anything, but rather they’re just being tricky about it—though they do find another friend in this book—a young circus performer who needs their help. It’s a pretty standard mystery with a lot of colorful characters, some suspense, odd cars, and lots of animals. We get an introduction to their secret headquarters, which isn’t quite as cool as the Three Investigators’ place, and a bit less believable—but still, I wanted more of that. I hope it’s central to the later books—a personal preference of mine—secret forts, treehouses, hideouts, headquarters—that’s what I’m in for.

11.11.25

Pronto

Pronto by Elmore Leonard (1993) “Why in the hell would you do that?” is a question everyone can relate to—way too much—when considering choices made by humans—the good, the bad, and the utterly incomprehensible. And could be the terrible title of this book, even worse than the actual one, but more apt—though I suppose “Pronto” used in the Italian sense is a better word than our English version. This story is like a mini-catalog of Italian gangster types—meaning, in this case, people involved in illegal activity as a way of living. To what extent they are all clichés, I don’t really know. (You certainly meet plenty of people in real life that you feel are “like clichés”—yet they’re real people!) I feel like if I was Italian, I wouldn’t love the portrayals here, though, probably, I’d also not be thrilled if I was Black, or a woman—with those few depictions. As a hayseed, however, hell yes. That said, the more you appreciate it as a comic novel, which it is, the easier it is to swallow. Every character is made fun of, to some degree, so it’s somewhat fair, in that sense. But then, it is a crime drama, with suspense, violence, and tragic killings. I’ve never read any Elmore Leonard—hard to know where to start—audio-booked this version—the narrator is so entertaining, it was the closest to watching a TV show I’ve experienced though headphones—hard to put it down—really fast moving, and spare, and for the most part, a lot of fun. It follows several characters—sets them up like a mad experiment, with all their shortcomings—and then they mix and clash in expected and very unexpected ways. Hard for me to figure if it’s a guilty pleasure or not—I suppose that would depend on who I’m answering to—and seeing how I’m barely discussing anything with anyone, it’s just me and my conscience.

11.6.25

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You: A Memoir

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You: A Memoir by Neko Case (2025) Neko Case is somewhat mysterious to me, based a few records I’ve heard, and another band she’s in (New Pornographers), and I’ve admired her, so I liked hearing her talk on a podcast (Marc Maron), a lot of which was about this book, an inspiring and harrowing memoir. I realize memoirs are a version of a person’s life, based on memory, but more important, the ability to interpret it in a way that connects with the audience. It’s a work of art, of course, and this is a good one. It pretty much goes chronologically, and then gets more into some ideas and philosophies at the end—which is a good approach, here, because of the hardships she endured early in life—some pretty unique dramas—that I’m not going to give away—same as if I was talking about a fictional story. In fact, if it was fictional, you might find it harder to believe. She grew up in the Pacific Northwest, where I lived for a while (I tried to figure if we might have crossed paths), and her depictions of some of those smaller, backwoods towns are harrowing—as well as her painting the generally haunted feeling of the entire region. I loved it there, and also, I didn’t—and I feel like she might feel the same—glad to get away? Will always miss it? A lot of heartbreak, but also, she met some good people, some of them musicians, and that’s a long road. All the stuff about playing music is interesting and inspirational, and the stuff about touring—which she grew to love—good stories. I think younger people who are interested in music—whether or not they are a fan of hers—could find this book important to them. And also, her musing on animals, and particularly horses, is really moving, to me, and I think would be to anyone with similar feelings and convictions. It’s pretty much at the core of this book.

10.16.25

The Mystery of the Marble Angel

The Mystery of the Marble Angel by John and Nancy Rambeau (1962). The second book of The Morgan Bay Mysteries series (notable because my first ever book report was another book from this series—The Musical Ghost—around Second Grade). It’s one of those books with “Exercises” in back, and vocab words—the mystery isn’t much—but then the word count is 7500 with only 312 different words. The thing about this book (and the series), though, is the art—which is a major inspiration—by illustrator Joseph Maniscalco. First, there’s the cover—the picture extends onto the back—and shows one of the kids at a creepy guy’s door in a long hallway in a rundown hotel. The weird thing is, the same picture (almost) is in the middle of the book, but it’s the reverse angle! It kind of blows your mind! These illustrations are all full page (some two page!), brown and white, movie-like, stills—they look like paintings. Lot of movement and expression, odd angles, inventive, surprising viewpoints on the action. You could take pretty much any one of them, put it in a frame, and hang it in a museum. But then you’d have to destroy the book—which is worth collecting—why? —because of the pictures! And best yet, each of the books, I’ve seen, features some kind of map in front, by the contents—and this one has what looks like a satellite image—from above—of Morgan Bay (of course!)—you can see the blocks and individual houses—and a few of the crucial locations are pointed out. You don’t need this for the story, not at all, but it really gets you in the mood for the book. It’s really excellent. So, I got to thinking, since the story is kind of a letdown—I’d like to take these illustrations and then write my own story, just following the pictures. Great idea! But I can’t figure out how to do that without destroying the book—and I don’t want to, since it’s in my collection!

10.8.25

Zuckerman Unbound

Zuckerman Unbound by Philip Roth (1981) I waded into this one unenthusiastically—I don’t know why—maybe the off-putting title. I can’t think of a worse title—well, there’s plenty (Rabbit Redux, Ratner’s Star, I, Robot) and it’s not Philip Roth’s fault a more famous “Zuck” came along. No audiobook available (to me), so I was reading it at work between angry phone calls. But I zipped through this book (it’s relatively short) and looked forward to it every minute I wasn’t reading it—it reminded me of why I love reading. It’s the return of Philip Roth’s writer protagonist, Nathan Zuckerman, dealing with life—that’s possibly based on the direct experience of the author. The first of these I read was, I believe, the last, Zuckerman in his seventies (Exit Ghost) which I really liked. Most recently I read The Ghost Writer, the first. In this story, he’s dealing with massive, somewhat unexpected, success and uncomfortable notoriety—even infamy, depending on who you ask—due to his sexually and in other ways explicit novel, “Carnovksy”—and you get as weary hearing about it as he does. I probably haven’t ever read anything that made the idea of fame seem less appealing—even harrowing and dreadful—but there’s a part of me that has always imagined this trajectory without even experiencing it. Even though the story is elegantly told, somewhat low-key and measured (which works to great effect, almost like a magic trick), there are some pretty seismic events related, some absolute craziness—and in the event that anyone might be reading my acknowledgement, here, who hasn’t read the book, and might, it would be a disservice to go into any more detail. After you’ve read it, let’s talk about it!

9.30.25

Vineland

Vineland by Thomas Pynchon (1990) Another odd Pynchon journey, for me, which is much more fun to write about than trying to synopsize or critically assess this book (which I don’t do anyway). Over the years, I’d try to read it, abandon it, come back to it, etc., countless times. I always loved the beginning, about Zoyd, who I relate to, but then the story goes to his ex and other characters—and I’d get bogged down. Finally, recently reading it through (at work—an okay read-at-work book!), I had the observation that there is something in the writing style (of this book, not Pynchon in general) that kept disconnecting me—though I’m not critically savvy enough to identify it. Likely, I’d’ve fared well with a well-narrated audio book and just let certain things slide by. Anyway, I did get to the end, and it was satisfying. I had read the rumor that Paul Thomas Anderson’s new movie is roughly based on it (or inspired by it?) so that’s a good incentive. And indeed, there are flashbacks to the time and place of Inherent Vice (2009), and it feels like it could be a semi-sequel to that book, though this was published way before, of course. The story here is set in 1984—so Reagan permeates it throughout (given time, shit can sell like nostalgia, so watch out). And it even feels a little like right now—or even tamped-down right now—at its most paranoid crazy, it doesn’t ratchet-up to our fucked-up times, at present—which is not a criticism, except of our times. On a happier note, I always loved the hardback dustjacket, for some reason—even though it’s just a b&w photo of a hill, on fire, I guess—but, I mean, the whole presentation, too. Maybe it’s just the nostalgia of books—that promise of a world—anyway, reading it hasn’t diminished either the joy of starting it over and over, or staring at the cover—though, sadly, I seem to have lost my dustjacket. It’ll turn up.

9.18.25

The Silver Spoon Mystery

The Silver Spoon Mystery by Dorothy Sterling (1958) I found an old children’s mystery involving secret codes (I’m always looking for those!) and then realized I had this Scholastic Book Services paperback, from two years earlier, by the same author—so I thought I’d read this first—and it turned out to be a satisfying and bizarre mystery about the theft of some antique silver spoons from their library’s historical society display. It ends up being more about ethical and responsible behavior in a difficult situation, but I won’t give away more than that—there’s still a mystery at hand! Solving the mystery is up an entire crew of kids from several tightknit families, neighbors in a particular section their small, suburban town. It’s such a big group it makes Trixie Belden’s gang seem intimate. I’m not going to go over the names and their well-drawn relationships—the story sides with the older girls, for the most part—and one of the boys who’s a mystery story enthusiast. There are some pretty good adventures—the best one being one of the kids’ surveillance trip to the big city. The most bizarre part, however, is about the kids making local newspapers—a good hobby! Except, they have two competing papers, and in an attempt to pull off a “scoop,” some of the girls create a news story about the theft of the spoons (I mean, this is before the crime is committed!) —just making it up! —not fully understanding that they’re doing anything wrong. I’m sure Orson Welles would have been onboard! When the actual crime is committed, mirroring exactly their fictional version, all hell breaks loose, as you can imagine. I wondered for a moment if we were getting into a children’s metafictional realm! Well, there are reasons for it all, which we will see, but in the meantime—a pretty good, head-scratching yarn.

9.9.25

Diamonds Are Forever

Diamonds Are Forever by Ian Fleming (1956) I sometimes engage in the worthless pastime of planning the future of the 007 franchise, but then it occurred to me that I had never read any of the Ian Fleming novels—still haven’t, but I listened to an audio book of this one—very enjoyable! Good narrator (Robert Whitfield), and I liked how it really moved along, but still spent a lot of time on seemingly unimportant (but fascinating) details—also, the characters. The move version is way different (I’m guessing most of them are), but the movie is one of my favorites of the Bonds, despite its considerable drawbacks. Also, I’m writing something (novel) and using the character name, Peter Franks—mostly to amuse myself—because I love how silly that chapter of the movie is. I was happy that the book’s very different version of that early episode is also charming, as is the character Tiffany Case—and I couldn’t help but think of Jill St. John, my first movie star crush. Right from the start, however, the book’s fascinating depiction of the James Bond character gave me a very new idea of him—and I didn’t think about Sean Connery or any of the other film Bonds. Anyway, I liked it, and I might check out more—kind of a “guilty pleasure”—but since I don’t believe in that concept, I don’t know why I said that. A lot of fun, I guess, and funny, as well. Oh, especially the character of Felix Leiter—the versions of him in the movies are many, and very different, but always pretty great—and no exception here.

9.4.25

Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Visitor

Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Visitor by Julie Campbell (1954) The fourth book of the Trixie Belden series, the fourth one I’ve read, and my favorite so far. It’s a real slow-burn mystery, like the others—Trixie overstepping sensible bounds (lucky for us), getting a lot of crap from her brothers and Jim, her girlfriends, the adults, the annoying “comic relief” brother, Bobby, and especially the “Mysterious Visitor”—who we have no doubt is a phony, a criminal, and title character, from the first time we hear about him. What is fun is how it all comes together. New friend “Di” Lynch is introduced and is inducted into the “Bob-Whites” club. She’s as wealthy as Honey, and has even more anxiety—for a while, you wonder if each time we see her it’ll end with a freakout. I love Trixie, of course, but Honey continues to be my favorite character—I love her personality—but my favorite in this episode is Mart Belden—his elevated, exaggerated speech goes to the next level—very funny. These are surprisingly long books, and I like how this one doesn’t rush to a conclusion. The edition I have—one of those Whitman’s with a glossy, full-color illustrated cover (which extends over the spine and on back) is one of the best I’ve seen. It’s a depiction of Di’s large, family house—the “Terrace” with rustic and MCM design—they totally go for it. Trixie, in a bathrobe, is in confrontation with the title character. Blue shaded line-drawing illustrations inside are by Mary Stevens, one of the best.

8..31.25

Modern Massacres

Modern Massacres by Timothy Willis Sanders (2022) I really don’t read a lot of books of short stories (except Jesus’ Son, over and over, ha)—or short stories, anywhere, really, but I like when a book feels like a whole thing, like this one—not that the stories are connected in any obvious way, thematically or stylistically—I guess in the “voice,” of course, though even that’s not that obvious. But it feels like a perfect little book—exactly 100 pages, and a great cover—it’s from Publishing Genius Press. I’d never heard of Timothy Willis Sanders—but I heard him on a podcast (otherppl, where I hear of a lot of writers for the first time) and I liked his interview. It’s funny, the book kind of makes me think of a vinyl record album, for some reason, six songs (stories) per side, as if there’s a center point. I’m not going to summarize them—but some are about childhood (which I’ve been trying to write about)—and some, the time between childhood and being an adult—I wouldn’t necessarily say “coming of age,” because I’m not comfortable with that term, exactly—but I suppose some of these stories could be considered that. Learning hard things about the world. My favorite story is one called “Officer Walter” which is about the narrator’s relationship to that particular cop, who kind of mentors at his school, and then has a questionable relationship with his mom—and then a series of run-ins with the police, involving friends, drinking, drugs, the usual. Each part of the story is a new twist—it kept surprising me—often disturbing, but also mundane—even reassuring to an extent—but sad, too—really back and forth. This is the first one that I’m going to come back to. Stories need to be read over again—like poems—well everything does—but especially stories!

8.26.25

Dirty Money

Dirty Money by Richard Stark (2008) This might be the last “Parker” novel—unless there’s some weirdness like ghost-writer versions—or real ghosts. I’ve picked out a couple to read, kind of at random—not wanting to get hooked in reading the whole series (two dozen or so), but it’d be easy to get hooked! I listened to the audio book, actually—good reader, and that makes it even more addictive. It’s funny, the story starts after a crime (not sure if the heist in question is in an earlier book). Parker and his cohorts have robbed an armored truck—so the story here is trying to deal with a ton of hidden cash with the serial numbers on file—making it “dirty”—I love this setup. Parker is forced to enlist the help of a lot of colorful characters—my favorite is a woman named Sandra—she’s vivid and very strong. All the intrigue comes from trying to get around the authorities, and the potential double-crosses of those involved in the robbery and those involved in exchanging the dirty money for untraceable cash. Also, Parker has to go to great lengths to get a new, fake identity—and that part is fascinating. A lot of the story is of the nuts-and-bolts descriptions of how they carry all of this out. Not that you could learn, from it, to be a criminal, really—it all makes a “regular” job sound easy. Very entertaining, though—it felt like watching a movie with no slow spots and just enough humor. Even if the characters are mostly reprehensible, they’re fun to be around in a fictional realm—even weirdly inspiring—or maybe it’s the writing that’s inspiring. I’d love to be able to write that cleanly.

8.19.25

James

James by Percival Everett (2024) There must be other of retellings of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884), though I haven’t read any, but this one, told from the point of view of the slave, Jim, is by Percival Everett, who takes it further and in crazier directions that I can imagine anyone else doing—with humor, horror, and surreal adventure—it kept surprising me. If you haven’t read Twain’s “Huck Finn” in a while, you might not remember how totally nuts it is—and this book is a worthy retelling on that front. I felt there was a sense of inevitability in exploring the consciousness of Jim (James). He is secretly (in order to protect himself) literate—not just full of wisdom and practical knowledge. His journey is to survive, be reunited with his wife and daughter, and document his existence. The depiction of slavey in the United States, historical or in fiction, is of course horrifying and depressing, and more so when it includes graphic illustrations of torture, rape, and murder—but it’s important to remember this, as it’s a part of who we are. For most reading audiences, in order to stomach the horror, we need some depictions humanity and love to get us through—and stories of beating the odds, bravery, ingenuity, determination, inspiration, and retribution. It’s all in this book—there’s a lot here. My favorite parts are the examinations of the power of language, verbal acuity, reading and writing. Which is also where much of the humor comes in—the confusions inherent, understandings and misunderstandings—incredibly complex convolutions of identity. As they navigate a world with alarming exhibitions of greed, hypocrisy, cruelty, and insanity—along the vibrant Mississippi River—we also get tales of the harsh side of nature and man’s heroic and tragic attempts to use it and control it. There’s enough craziness here for several volumes. It’s satisfying how Everett can combine so many things—satire, experimentation of form, outrage, page-turning adventure, historical asides, regional lore, fraught travelogue, and a Hollywood ending—and why not. We end up loving these characters.

8.13.25

New Hope for the Dead

New Hope for the Dead by Charles Willeford (1985) The second Hoke Moseley novel—can’t believe I’ve taken so long getting around to these. I liked it better than the first one (Miami Blues), though not by much—it’s very different in structure—which is exciting—less violent, and warmer. I mean, in a way it’s a heartwarming book—but on the other hand, it’s brutal and depressing (it’s about homicide detectives, after all). Not depressing, but some grim subject matter, of course. Also, it’s hilarious. Maybe the most impressive thing of all is how the humor has an absolutely perfect tone—not easy to do. In a way, Hoke Moseley is the Miami version of Columbo—he relies on intuition and experience, and sometimes not exactly aboveboard methods—he’s sneaky and manipulative. I don’t approve of the guy, for the most part, and I don’t relate to him, really—but I love him. I’d follow him around on his job endlessly, if that was an option. Besides a central mystery in this book, a non-case that Hoke can’t let go, the main police-related story is that Hoke, and his old partner, and his new partner, are assigned to cleaning up a large file of cold cases—unsolved homicides. Thus the title—and it’s an excellent title. But also, Hoke and his new partner, Ellita Sanchez, are both embroiled in personal dramas that pretty much eclipse the crime sagas. Really, there is some shocking stuff in this book—but it would be an absolute disservice to anyone reading this if they haven’t read the book—just trust me.

8.5.25

Three Stuffed Owls

Three Stuffed Owls by Keith Robertson (1954) I’m a big fan of Keith Robertson, and I read The Money Machine (1969) when I was a kid, and a few times since, but I had no idea, until recently, that it was the fourth book in a series known as “The Carson Street Detective Agency Series”—about two high school age guys in small town New Jersey who solve a few mysteries. I had this book for a while (unread) and didn’t realize that it’s the second book in the series—and also has gotten pricey, due to rarity, I guess. I have an old, discarded library copy. I wanted to read them in order, but it seems the first and third books are impossible to find. Some other Keith Robertsons are pricey, now, as well—though not the Henry Reed books—I think they printed a ton of those. Anyway, this is a fine mystery—not the best I’ve ever read or anything—but very good. You see it coming down Fifth Avenue, a bit, but that’s part of the fun of it. The two kids aren’t geniuses—and their hubris almost undoes them—but they’re also smart and practical. I don’t want to give it all away, of course, but the mystery involves a taxidermist that they befriend, which reminded me of how we had taxidermy classes in our high school, and I do regret, now, not taking them. There’s also a really good storm, a cranky, humorless neighbor, a drugstore with a soda fountain, and a pet pig, obtained by chance, named Mildred, and she’s quite charming.

7.29.25

The Rare Coin Score

The Rare Coin Score by Richard Stark (1967) This is “A Parker Novel” by Donald E. Westlake, writing under the name Richard Stark. Somewhere in the middle of the series—Number 9, I guess. I think I read a Parker book way back, but now I’ve forgotten, so I’m kind of new to the series. I’ve seen several movies based on them—all of them too brutal, but still—I like the idea of a really stripped-down story. I was just thinking about my old coins—I have a few, not well-preserved or anything, and probably worth nothing. But I never get them out, and as far as them being old, I was thinking the ones that were 50 years old when I got them, like from relatives—those coins are now 100 years old! Maybe I should try to sell them. Anyway, this book is probably the wrong place to learn about rare coins. What it’s good for, to learn about, is how people will fuck everything up! It’s a heist, of course, of coins, at a convention at a hotel—so I like the setting. As the story starts gathering the cast of misfits, we get to know them a little, and we also get the setup, as if we are the criminals trying to figure out how to pull it off. Right from the start, I’m saying, no! Abandon this one! Forget it—it’s got bad news written all over it. Of course, no one listens to me, and if they did, there wouldn’t be a book. The character of Parker is pretty off-putting at the beginning, and I was thinking of ditching it after the first few chapters, but as soon as the caper planning started clicking the book started clicking. Parker doesn’t like himself between jobs, either. I quickly got caught up in it, and the rest was irresistible. Nothing really spectacular as far as characters (except for Parker), or the way it’s pulled off, or the language—except for maybe that it’s told in a crystal-clear matter-of-fact way—and there’s a lot of pleasure just in that. Now, I might be hooked—or if not hooked, exactly, curious, certainly, about the series.

7.23.25

Asymmetry

Asymmetry by Lisa Halliday (2018) I think I came upon this book because I was reading about Philip Roth—and the first part of the book is about an older writer, seemingly inspired by Roth, who is having a relationship with much younger woman who is also a writer. I love stories about writers, and I found this one fascinating, even as it made me cringe, but I was hooked. I listened to the audiobook version and the narrator of the first part annoyed me to the point of almost putting it down, but then coming around to it—like a kid first drinking beer—and almost liking the style. Maybe I just got to really like both characters—and it is quite funny. The second part of the book is completely unrelated, except that it’s possibly written by the woman in the first part; I may be misreading that, or it may be terribly obvious—I’m sometimes a bit dense. This part of the book is mostly first person, an Iraqi American man who is trying to visit his brother in Kurdistan but is being detained at an airport for no reason—so it’s confusing and frightening. While in this limbo he reflects on his life in a very straightforward, matter of fact way—and it’s surprisingly compelling and very interesting. I really liked the reader of this section. But also, as he is recounting horrific incidents of violence and war, it’s horrifying. To me, really depressing. I admit that I avoid reading about the horrors of injustice and war—not that I try to act like it doesn’t exist—but I try to protect myself. I find this depressing almost beyond being able to bear it. Is it good for me to open my eyes, more—probably—but I don’t run after experiences like this. The book tricked me into it—and I’m guess I’m okay with that. The third part of the book is an interview with the older writer in the first part. It’s very funny, and I guess illuminates the novel as a whole, somewhat—also, works structurally to close it. All in all, it’s an unusual approach—perfect for a novel. It all worked for me.

7.16.25

Prep

Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld (2005) I decided to research “campus novels” (for undisclosed purposes) though part of what I’ve come across have been prep school stories, like “The Lawrenceville Stories”—and this one. The very first episode in this book is similar to one in Lawrenceville—and, for all I know, every prep school book since time immemorial! The funny thing is, I’ve been working on a story, based on my childhood, with similar age characters—though, in summer before high school. (One of them had attended an Eastern prep school—not part of my experience—and I’m now wondering how off I am!) Anyway, I nearly gave up on this book almost immediately, but I’m glad I didn’t because I ended up really liking it. I’m trying to figure out what won me over. Good writing, sure, but just as much, because the main character, Lee, is so strong—she’s relatable, likable, interesting, and maddening. As for the latter, you just want to shake her, and say—talk to people, communicate, come out with it—but then—if we really remember ourselves at this age (which is maybe not possible) —how paralyzed and inarticulate we were. Which, most people, essentially, remain. So, I can’t criticize her (or the author’s rendition) because that’s how people are. What I do criticize are stories (often screenplays) where people are unrealistically articulate. Anyway, somehow, we follow her through all four years—and it’s—not only not unbearable—it’s a lot of fun. Emotional, sure, and sad, but also funny, and constantly mysterious, yet really very commonplace (in a good way). One other funny thing I had in common, we (Lee and I) both learned something about talking to newspaper reporters at almost exactly the same point in our senior year. Hers is a much bigger deal—a pretty dire situation—the whole story kind of hinged on it. Mine just embarrassing. But still, I saw it coming, and I wanted to tell her, “Never tell a journalist anything!” It’s a harder lesson to learn than you’d think. Also, don’t read reviews. (I was somewhat relieved the author didn’t overtly reveal Lee as the author of this book.) Also, for the love of God, ignore the nasty, miserable fucks on Goodreads. Lee ends up being somewhat more well-adjusted than I was—my final gesture was the double “bird” in the air while walking away. That would have been appropriate for Lee, as well, but she (who had things much harder than I ever did) shows a bit more maturity.

7.10.25