Deliver Me from Nowhere

Deliver Me from Nowhere by Warren Zanes (2023) The subtle of this book is: “The Making of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska.” Before talking incessantly about myself (which is the way these “book reports” seem to go) I wanted to say that this is a great book that might appeal to beyond Bruce Springsteen fans. Of course, Springsteen fans are a large swath, and that group might be into this book the most, but others who it might appeal to are people interested in the creative process, people into songwriting, music making (and recording, in particular), and people interested in American culture from this period. Also, people who like stories of someone going against the grain—doing something odd, passionate, and surprising. And there’s also a mental health element—part of the saga most interesting to me. As a huge star (not me, Springsteen—particularly where and when I grew up), I kind of dismissed him—not my thing—after only his third (huge, Born to Run) record—but then came around, a few years later—after seeing him live—which turned me into a huge fan. At the same time, though, I was moving against all that was mainstream, and I remember well when the Nebraska record came out, and how a few friends and I were fascinated by it—and then even more so when we found out how it came about. This book is a great reminder of that, and if you don’t know the story, it’s here in depth. One of the more inspiring sagas involving a bigger than life star, as far as I’m concerned (because the bigger than life part doesn’t generally interest me—but the work does). Also, a good reason to go back and re-experience the record. And one more thing, the book made me aware of Springsteen’s autobiography, which I might now read—it sounds intriguing.

9.24.24

Riddler

Riddler by Henry A. Bamman and Robert J. Whitehead (1967) This is the 2nd book in the “Checkered Flag Series”—which are from Field Educational Publications, schoolbooks for young readers—I’m not sure of the age—I probably thought I was too old for them when I first read them, but now I’m 64, still reading them—so does it really matter? The one thing you’re not old enough to do is drive, when you might read these in school—but anyway, they stuck with me. Since I’m writing something about a road rally, I was trying to find some old books for inspiration—and I read this one while on vacation at my brother’s house—it’s specifically about a rally where there are riddles that reveal the next checkpoint, and then the teams are to get there in an indicated time—not too slow, but also not too fast. Of course, there’s some element of mystery and wrongdoing going on, involving one of the contestants, for increased drama. Good car stuff—I think each of the books focuses on different cars. I used to love cars. When I was a little kid, I wanted nothing as much as (after I became resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to get a horse) a Stutz Bearcat, for some reason, and one book of the series is called Bearcat. The other nice thing about these books are their distinctive checkered flag covers, and the excellent, stylized, somewhat impressionistic illustrations by James Andrews. Which is maybe one of the reasons my brother collected them. It really is worth owning the books for the illustrations alone.

9.17.24

Silent Partner

Silent Partner by Jinny McDonnell (1972) This is a “Kim Aldrich Mystery” (Number 2 in the series) from Whitman Publishing—it’s got a great cover (by Arnie Kohn)—the cover sold me! Kim in a pink sweater, in distress, looks like we’re in an old castle—a dripping candle in the foreground. 1972 worried me (I generally prefer much older kids’ books) but then I thought—there might be some interesting, specific, cultural references (there weren’t). Oh, the other thing, the book’s former owner, age 14, dated it (6/10/74)—which means she and I are almost exactly the same age. Also, I bought this last June—exactly 50 years since she owned it! I wish I liked it more—but I got through it. Kim (another main character with a dead mother) Aldrich has a knack for finding trouble, and this ski trip to the Alps is no exception. I’m afraid detailed description of skiing leaves me cold—but if you like that kind of adventure, and a bit more mature (Kim is about this far from gettin’ busy, in spite of being a Christian) romance and mystery (a few grisly deaths), you might also be able to endure every last detail of Kim’s anxiety-ridden internal monologue. I still liked her, but I guess I might have preferred her in a culinary adventure, or something. Her co-stars are pretty interesting—and in fact, there’s a basic, integral, twist—that I’d be doing a prospective reader an enormous disservice to reveal—so I’ll leave it at that—there’s a pretty intense and quite imaginative setup.

9.10.24

All Fours

All Fours by Miranda July (2024) For people up to a certain age the title will evoke sexual positions. People older than that, perhaps, will think of searching for that thing they just dropped that has entered another realm. It’s a good title—you remember it. There was a funny bit in The First Bad Man (2015) that cracked me up so much I still think of it occasionally and laugh (I’m not going to say what it is, since that never comes off, out of context). So I was hoping Miranda July would write another novel, and I hope she writes more. I was concerned though—I’d heard some things in advance (I try not to do that)—it was about menopause, and it was about dance—not my most relatable subjects. Actually, knowing nothing about menopause, I thought, maybe this is my other-than-Wikipedia chance. It’s something I’d have liked to talk to my mom about before she died—but add that to the list of missed opportunity regrets. I glanced through the book, another thing one should not do. That “Don’t judge a book by its cover!” expression really means don’t glance though, reading bits here and there, because a book—at least the linear narrative kind—is a collection of one word after another—in order! I guess I (sometimes) glance through to give myself the excuse to move onto something else. I’d also heard there was a lot of sex—something else I’m not comfortable with—though I’m certainly okay with it (after all, I endure Philp Roth)—and lately, really prefer sex to any type of violence. Also, I did see this graph of, I guess, hormone cycles of men and woman—and I thought: graphs? But this led to a subtle joke—MJ’s unique sense of humor—but I won’t give it or anything else away! I feel like it’s a weakness of mine to want to read about people like myself—with similar interests. But I guess it’s nice to expand a little—it helps when there’s something to hold on to—and in this case it’s humor as much as anything. Also, the character’s eccentricity. It’s first person, but the protagonist (a couple decades younger than me) is feeling old—so it’s also a kind of midlife crisis book—my favorite! The character is nameless, I guess—and her friends and husband don’t refer to her by name, and her non-binary child probably calls her mom. She’s an artist—but since it’s not entirely clear what her “projects” are, you might naturally defer to MJ’s projects—and her seemingly putting equal importance on all art forms, including, maybe, grocery shopping. Even though she comes off as a bit scattered, her past (offscreen) success seems justified when you witness her “new project” with herself at the center—seemingly chaotic—but frighteningly impressive in its intensity and improvisatory focus. I did actually think a little bit if Cassavetes—and in particular, Gena Rowlands’ characters (this was just before she died). Another thing that kept me going is—I just wanted to know—what was going to happen, like a mystery. Should be part of all books, maybe (it’s not), but whatever way you get there, you want the reader to care (and I did). I’m not going to reveal more, except to say, for me, I think this will be a memorable book—and some of those will be the best kind of laughs.

9.3.24

Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself

Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip with David Foster Wallace by David Lipsky (2010) A memoir about meeting David Foster Wallace—on assignment for Rolling Stone, during the Infinite Jest book tour—so I guess that was 1996. It’s a transcript of taped (good old cassette tapes) conversations they had over a five day or so period, concluding the book tour—as well as David Lipsky’s commentary. This came out following DFW’s death in 2008—so there’s that sad edge to it—and Lipsky’s extended section of the time from this interview until the death is respectful and illuminating. I don’t remember when this book came out—I would have been immediately interested—but I do remember the movie that was based on it—The End of the Tour (2015)—which I went to. I had mixed feelings about the movie—l’ll see any movie about writers—and I thought the actors were really good—but ultimately, I felt weird about it. I mean it’s hard to say what DFW would have thought about it, but if it was me (I mean, imagining that I was him, and I was dead), I would have been mortified. And who knows if you can be mortified after death or not. So, I didn’t search out this book, then, but now that I came upon it, I wished I’d read it earlier. Or maybe this is the time. It’s been long enough since I read Infinite Jest that I wonder if I could read it again. It was some experience. Anyway, Lipsky’s approach to this book, as an odd kind of friend, and a writer, and a journalist—I felt it was sensitive and respectful, and loving. Also, very funny, and entertaining. Plus, there’s a lot about writing, of course, and that’s my favorite stuff. Also, a lot about fame. There’s also stuff about the cultural climate, and technology, and discussions kind of predicting the problems with the internet and social media. The DFW character he constructs—not totally reality, of course—but the taped conversations—you do get the feeling of both of them, intimately, as people you’d like to be friends with. There’s the tragic side of it, since Wallace is dead, but also a reminder that his writing is still with us—so that odd, interesting person is still with us. Form other stuff I read, articles, and fiction, DFW always reminded me of a few different friends---no one totally enough to be too uncomfortable—but an odd mix of maybe a dozen or more friends from the past. But enough so that—well, I never felt like I knew him, so much—but I do relate to him, quite a lot. And I continue to find him inspiring.

8.27.24

The Mystery at Lilac Inn

The Mystery at Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene (1930) This is the fourth Nancy Drew volume (original text)—first time I read it—but it’s the biggest bummer of a ND I’ve read yet—even though it seemed promising (about a jewel theft) and centered on a restaurant (Lilac Inn). It starts with Nancy stopping at this roadside restaurant for luncheon. With Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books, there are three things I really read them for: food, weather (usually some kind of storm), and nautical mishaps. This book has all of those, but the mystery isn’t very clever or compelling. There’s no point in giving it away, so I won’t go into details. I mean, it is a little baffling, for a while, but the solution is uninspiring. I guess I also read them for the mystery. Oh, and another reason I read these old versions, before rewrites, is that they sometimes have odd elements and weird humor. The oddball details in this one, however, involve Nancy’s observations of women who she’s interviewing to fill in for housekeeper, Hannah, while she’s out of town. Part of Nancy’s negative reaction to the applicants is based on their race and nationality, and the way it’s handled in the writing is in itself racist. It’s bad enough that no one was going to fill Hannah’s shoes, anyway. And why can’t Carson just clean up after himself? It’s not like he needs to take care of Nancy. Anyway, I couldn’t help, while reading this book, to consider what I’d do if I had children. I wouldn’t want them reading this book, I guess (even though, in general, I’d rather they read the original versions). I suppose if I had kids, I might steer them toward more contemporary books—the ones that are more inclusive of a variety of people. But then, once they got old enough, I suppose we could discuss what’s troubling about some of the older books—so they could take them for what they are, while not being all right with the problems. But at what age do kids have that level of sophistication? I guess that’s part of raising kids, figuring that stuff out. Until then, I guess I’m considering this an adult oriented book, because I’m not throwing this or any other book away.

8.22.24

Doppelganger: A Trip Into the Mirror World

Doppelganger: A Trip Into the Mirror World by Naomi Klein (2023) A book heavy with dire real-world subjects and complex ideas (complex, but not hard to understand, at least on some level)—it starts out with the humorous “crisis” of author Naomi Klein’s consternation with being often (over the years) confused with author Naomi Wolf. Partly due to the similarities of their names, but also because of the common ground of their interests and politics—at least at one time. A confusion that is maddening for Klein, now, since Wolf’s seeming reversal of beliefs and most recent fame as a conspiracy theorist and anti-vax spokesperson. Naomi Klein expands on the concept of doppelganger, in myths, movies, and literature, and extends it through her concerns touched on this book—from conspiracy theories, the pandemic, politics, cancel culture, capitalism, social media, autism, religion, antisemitism, Zionism, fascism, history and human conflict, and the climate crisis. I’m probably forgetting something… there’s a lot here! If it sounds hard to take on, well, she helps a lot by clearly covering one thing at a time, and her approach is personable and positive—with a lot of focus on herself, her stake in everything, including her own shortcomings. She comes off like the friend you’d like to have, and in that way allows you at least the possibility of hope. I learned a lot, that’s for sure, and it got me thinking in other directions. I feel like I could go through the book again. I will admit to listening to an audiobook version, read by, weirdly, Naomi Wolf! That’s a joke. It’s read, very well, by the author. I wanted to get to it, this book—and through it—sooner than my slow, slow reading would allow. I feel like audiobooks are never as thorough a delivery system as reading is, but I can always listen to a book read twice, in half the time. I can imagine listening to this again (and/or reading it)—for her personable, somewhat odd—sometimes poetic, sometimes eccentric—take on all of it—but really deep and sane insights. A lot to learn and relearn. Some comfort. Sanity through clarity, at least a bit of clarity, and increased understanding. It could be a companion through rough times—rough times, now, and rougher times ahead.

8.15.24

Norwood

Norwood by Charles Portis (1966) I read this one because the two books I read by Charles Portis last year have partially, possibly, inspired me to write a “road” story, and when I was looking up other “road novels” for inspiration I came upon this, his first book. The danger is that you might emulate, too much, someone you’re inspired by, but then… there are more dangerous things in life. This is a relatively short book about a brief, transitional episode in the life of Norwood Pratt, an ex-Marine who has a less-than-intense ambition to be a country and western singer. Everything he does is a bit half-assed and off-kilter; he makes some bad choices and doesn’t necessarily follow things up, but he’s still the hero of this book because you’re along with him. If you choose to keep reading (and for me, the reading was compelling, effortless, and fun), you’re implicated, even when you know better. There’s an ill-advised trip to New York, and then back to “Ralph, Texas” (near Texarkana), and some great characters along the way, including Grady Fring the Kredit King and Edmund B. Ratner, the world’s smallest perfect man. There was a movie made based on this book, which you can watch on YouTube, but I’d recommend the book over the movie because what’s special about the book is the subtleties of language, the balance of smart and stupid, honorable and reprehensible—rather than the plot. The movie (which is both too close and too different from the book) has some charms, in its own way, but I didn’t even watch it all because I’d rather re-read the book—because its sense of effortlessness is inspiring to me, as writing.

8.1.24

Red Harvest

Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett (1929) This is a crazy book—tremendously influential on other books and movies. Miller’s Crossing is the one that really comes to mind, though I think they borrowed even more from Hammett’s The Glass Key—which I still haven’t read but will soon. I saw a notice that someone is working on a film version of this book—so I’m looking forward to that and hope it’s good. I had read Continental Op stories, years ago, but no Dashiell Hammett since then, for some reason. The first-person main character here is the Continental Op (who is never named, I don’t think, otherwise)—and he is not a good person, but he’s smart, effective, pretty fearless, and funny—dry sense of humor. Kind of despicable and admirable at the same time—at least you relate to him, even if you don’t always approve. His job here is taking on a wee bit of corruption in a town called Personville (affectionally known as “Poisonville”)—ha! He lies, manipulates, is ruthless and coldblooded—but he’s up against people worse than he is. A great cast of characters—the money-grubbing Dinah Brand is the best—I actually got to like and care about her. Dan Rolff the “lunger,” “Whisper,” Lew Yard, MacSwain, and Charles Procter Dawn—ha, that guy! I feel like I’m talking about colorful nuts at a drunken party. Most vivid of all was Noonan, the police chief, just the sleaziest. My favorite is the Op, himself—because you kind of hate him as much as admire him. My reaction is like Eddie Dane’s in Miller’s Crossing (sorry to come back to that again)—“Up is down, black is white.” It’s an easy book to read, and worth a re-read, or several. Lots of great dialogue and slang of the time, yet the story feels totally contemporary.

7.11.24

There’s Always This Year

There’s Always This Year by Hanif Abdurraqib (2024) Book is subtitled: On Basketball and Ascension. A great book in a lot of ways—first of all, inspiring, to me, from a writer/writing perspective, as what is possible to do with the written word. As with the best writing it feels like direct communication from brain to brain. (Or heart to heart, or hand to hand.) It’s particularly exciting to me because it’s boundary-less—memoir, and essay, and poetry—you could just call it a book if you wanted—can we do without the categories? It’s personal, very specific, and revealing, but also there’s something universal about it. A meditation on basketball (with LeBron James as the center) is the framework, and that’s seen through Hanif Abdurraqib’s relationship with the game as a player, a fan, and Ohioan. But ultimately, it’s about the author’s growing up, his love for his community, but also hardships and tragedy, and his grief and anger from violence. Specifically, police killing Black people in his community, and the country, and the ongoing racism in U.S. cities, including, his home, Columbus. Along with the tragedy and anger, this book deals with, there is also a joyous and even spiritual outlook that feels necessary for survival. For the reader, it’s all equally as powerful. For me, a specific reader, there is the humor and oddness that I relate to, as well. I had never heard of Hanif Abdurraqib, though he’s got a half dozen or so previous books. I heard him on a podcast (Otherppl)—got my interest—first of all in ways I do relate and don’t relate. I used to be a huge basketball fan—but grew away from it. (Probably more to do with TV than basketball.) And I’m from Ohio (I’ve lived in both Columbus and Cleveland) but moved away, so I’m interested to hear about a writer who stayed/is back in his hometown. And other things got to me, as the book went along, like him talking about having dreams about his mother, who is deceased—and that was right after I’d been having dreams about my mom (died in 2008), which were freaking me out. There is lot to this book, and I mean a lot—and I’d like to recommend it to everyone I know (even those who don’t know a basketball from a pumpkin). Even those who don’t care about the formally inventive writing that is this book—though I think anyone would appreciate the musicality of his writing. But first of all, he’s got a voice that you care about, and want to listen to.

6.30.24

Sky Castle

Sky Castle by Arthur Northup (1932) I never heard of this author, but this book has an intriguing title and cover—just an illustration of guys spying on a house—but I like the artwork. Also, it says: “A Thrilling Newspaper Mystery.” That got my attention. It’s a relatively short book but it moves right along. Two newspaper reporters, Tad and Bob, get an assignment to canoe down a stretch of the Mississippi River and send back writeups about their adventures and some history of the region. Their ultimate goal is “Sky Castle”—a cursed and haunted and abandoned river outpost where it’s rumored a cache of river pearls are hidden. On the way, they have a lot of adventures (including losing their canoe!) and meet some interesting characters, all of whom warn them away from Sky Castle. Meanwhile, some copycat reporters from a rival newspaper are mirroring Bob and Tad’s trip, trying to scoop them. It’s got a little humor, too, this whole book. One thing I liked about it is that, even though it’s fast paced, it also takes its time and lingers on the characters they meet—with lots of description of the places, food, and weather. Also, it doesn’t labor to stretch out the conclusion—that’s not the entire point of the story. It’s kind of like those old Westerns, it ties up the final action quickly and with ease.

6.13.24

Traveling Sprinkler

Traveling Sprinkler by Nicholson Baker (2013) I wouldn’t normally jump right into the next book of a series (I guess you could call this a two-book series), but after enjoying The Anthologist (2009) so much, I thought, why not. Like I said, the narrator, Paul Chowder, reminded me of an old friend—and I felt like, if not now, maybe I’d never get around to seeing what he’s up to next. I had especially liked his discussion of poets and poetry I know nothing about. The funny thing is, in this book (in which he’s working on his own collection, to be titled “Misery Hat”) he talks about his love for Yukon Jack (no!) and smoking (he even tries smokeless tobacco!) and he makes his foray into strong cigars sound enticing. (A few years back, I had a similar flirtation with cigars, until one of Kinky Friedman’s messed me up so much, I was afraid I had a mini-stroke.) He also buys a guitar at Best Buy and starts writing songs, then gets deep into recording and sampling software—all of that—while talking about his former love, the bassoon. So, I’m thinking—go back to the bassoon!—but of course, that’s not practical, but still… Eventually, I was struck by the odd thought, might Baker be trying to turn us against the loveable Paul Chowder? I definitely felt an escalating alienation—but was that just me? What if I was really his friend? I’d love to meet him for breakfast at The Friendly Toast (I’ve visited Portsmouth, NH, and would move there right now if I could find a job and reasonable rent). Would I tell him, you’ve gotta just get over Roz—what’s past is past—that getting back together obsession is not healthy. But then, when he tells me about that guy she’s seeing… well, maybe you’re right, Paul. I won’t give away the further events. One wonders if we’ll see the Chowder Trilogy? I don’t think so, but I might not be able to resist it.

6.8.24

The Golden Spur

The Golden Spur by Dawn Powell (1962) One of the later Dawn Powell books—maybe it’s her last novel—set in New York, I suppose in the Fifties—the cultural references are mostly fictional, I think, as are the “famous” characters. Though, I seem to remember a mention of “Hamburger Heaven”—did I imagine that? I can’t find it. I remember a “Burger Heaven”—wait, I already went through this, last time I read Breakfast at Tiffany’s (which I think was published not long before this book). Maybe “HH” here is “B at T” reference?! Okay, after spending a few fruitless minutes running into paywalls, and Google’s lowest-common-denominator-itis, I’m fed up. I’ll just have to read both books again (which is no chore, at all). This book was very funny. It could have been written yesterday, rather than at the time I was born—but the way it’s dated is nothing but charming, because it’s also remarkably contemporary in attitudes—and, I guess, tone—and I’d have guessed wrong if I’d had to guess. It’s about a young guy from Ohio, named Jonathan, whose mother had lived in New York years before and made a lot of acquaintances. After her death, Jonathan goes back to the city with the thought of making a life for himself there. I can relate to this, of course, being from Ohio—where a lot of people, it seemed, when I was younger, felt the need to try their luck in NYC. In Jonathan’s case, though, fueled by stories from and about his mother, he has the idea that he’s going to find his real father—who no doubt was one of the men his mother had been friends with—and more than you’d think! The home base for his quest is a tavern in the Village called the Golden Spur. It’s a great setup for a book. Jonathan is just clueless enough to slide by a lot of resistance and not be too affected by things not going his way—or in some cases, going too well. As the pieces start falling in place in this oddball odyssey, it gets weirder and funnier by subtle degrees—satirizing just about everything—artists and the art scene, writers, actors, real estate, and “respectability.” I don’t want to give away some of the best, oddest, wrinkles—they are really the joy of the book.

5.28.24

No Country for Old Men

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy (2005) I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get through Blood Meridian (1985), as good as it’s supposed to be. It’s difficult and brutal. I keep saying I’m going to stop watching movie violence (and reading it, as well), but it’s everywhere. I don’t need to be reminded of the that side of humans. Still, I have a weakness for it, and this book is very entertaining along with being upsetting. I kind of wish I’d read it before seeing the movie adaptation (2007), for obvious reasons. I read, somewhere, that this book started as a screenplay—and knowing that, it seems obvious, because a lot of (main character) Sheriff Bell’s part is told through what is essentially voiceover—so you also get his background and philosophy. Besides that, it’s a highly entertaining action story—which doesn’t mean it’s not brutal, upsetting, and unforgiving. Another odd observation I had was that I found the principal men characters oddly compelling, in spite of my differences with them as far as morals, codes, politics, backgrounds, and probably every cultural preference besides a love of coffee. I guess it’s interesting to watch how each of these men go through life—which is not easy for any of us. I suppose you can learn something from just about anyone—though maybe this just amounts to a kind of “able-guy” porn. What I got here is the wisdom of going about both everyday tasks and life changing misadventures equally, treating everything with equal weight, and performing each activity with deliberate calm and careful movements—rather than jumping ahead with a herky-jerky nervousness, which often leads to ill-advised choices and accidents. Besides that, there’s also some poetry, especially near the end—which is a nice way to end such a book. An odd part that stood out to me was Bell’s brief story about a stone water trough that someone had carved with a hammer and chisel—the impression that made on him as a kind of promise. But it’s hard not to think of it as the idea of making something that might last—whether or not there is any reward—in the face of what otherwise might seem like hopelessness and defeat.

5.19.24

Mystery at Shadow Pond

Mystery at Shadow Pond by Mary C. Jane (1958) I always thought “Mary C. Jane” sounded like a pen name—I finally looked her up—Mary Childs Jane—perfect name for a children’s author. These Scholastic Book Services paperbacks from the Sixties are surprisingly easy to find, considering a lot of people must be nostalgic for them, as I am. I buy one occasionally and have several Mary C. Jane books—but this is the first I’ve read—a really good mystery. It starts out remarkably slowly for such a short book—but I like that—very old-fashioned feeling—takes a while to establish everything—and there are quite a few characters. The main one, a young girl, is smart, but not unbelievably clever. It takes her awhile to clear up—with the help of her brother and a new friend—a satisfyingly deep mystery. Her brother has built a crude robot (pictured on the cover)—a modest, believable project for a kid around 1960. The new friend (whose mother is deceased—that particular detail, once again) is a smart kid and introduces them to an interesting local writer character—a very cool, young man. There’s also a mysterious, miserly neighbor, some very sketchy visitors, a kind of mythic dead grandfather who has potentially left a secret, some missing letters, a lost cat, a lame, loveable horse, and some exciting bad weather. This book has it all, or enough at least, and the ending plays out as deliberately as the opening. I’m definitely going to consider, now, reading my other Mary C. Jane books.

5.16.24

The Divorce

The Divorce by César Aira (2010) I’ve read three or four books by César Aira—I find these short books irresistible as books—inspiring objects that I love. Because I’m an idiot, I’m attracted to really short, small books, and ridiculously massive, long, heavy ones—while finding 300 page novels and short story collections much less attractive (I can’t quite say off-putting). Also idiotic is that I didn’t write anything about this book immediately after finishing it—some time ago—and now, looking over it, I may as well be trying to extract messages from concrete. Let’s see—a guy’s meeting someone at a café—and at the moment some water is accidently dumped on a guy on a bicycle—several stories are launched simultaneously. Of course, we can only get to them one after the other. The one I remember liking most is about a woman with no business experience successfully running a company by using this mysterious “manual” and nothing else—which made me think about all people in power or important positions—and what their days might be like, and how many of them might be getting by with a version of paint-by-numbers or the Cub Scout handbook—or who knows? I’m sure there were a lot of ideas in the book that made me think of seemingly unrelated topics—I just wish I’d written my thoughts down. One funny observation I recall is that it felt like these were actually short stories, but he was using this weird device to present them as a novel—but if so, why? It’s still very short as a novel—and he’s published books of short stories. Well, anyway, I liked this okay, but least of the books of his I’ve read—but still, I’m looking forward to reading the next one I get my hands on.

5.11.24

The Botany of Desire

The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan (2001) As inspiring as I find this book, I like to imagine if I’d encountered it while in high school (a quarter-century before it was written) and wonder if it would have altered my career trajectory. (I don’t just mean botany, or science—but history, as well, even philosophy.) Its subtitle: A Plant’s-Eye View of the World, indicates how it expands its specific subjects to an overview of our very existence. I read it a few years back, but returning to it recently—as inspiration for writing a fictional story with “desire” at the core—reminded me how much fun the book is—maybe one worth going back to occasionally. I believe some PBS show was based on it—haven’t seen it—but I imagine you could get a lot out of that was well. It’s about the evolutionary relationship between humans and plants—taking the intriguing slant that the plants are equally in charge—if not more so. For someone like me who occasionally likes to consider humans as the bottom of the scale (trees at the top—or maybe even rocks), the book leads to further thought. He’s got a great approach—starting with four basic desires (sweetness, beauty, intoxication, control)—and expands those ideas with the stories of the apple, the tulip, cannabis, and the potato. He takes a particularly personal approach to each—involving his own garden. Each section could be its own book (and the book could be expanded to every recognized desire—or even every known plant). It says a lot for his choice of subject matter, though, that I’m unable to pick a clear favorite—or even one I wasn’t as into as the rest of them. I don’t smoke weed, I’m through with apples, list tulips among my least favorite flowers, and can’t stand French fries—but after recently rereading this book—I’m currently excited about nothing as much as those four subjects.

4.28.24

Rupert Piper and the Dear, Dear Birds

Rupert Piper and the Dear, Dear Birds by Ethelyn M. Parkinson (1976) The sixth of seven Rupert Piper books (the first was 1958 and the last 1979—only one I haven’t read yet). This is the weirdest yet, in a way—it gets really deep into observations of birds—some pretty intense stuff, actually—but it never feels like the overall story suffers due to an agenda. At its heart is still a humorous satire about Rupert Piper and his best guy friends, their families, and the small town. I did start to feel a little uncomfortable with the way the similar aged girls are kind of—not only left out—but not loved as much, by the author, as the boys. But her books are always primarily about young boys—and so that’s where the point of view is going to lie. I’m pretty sure Ethelyn M. Parkinson didn’t have kids of her own. I’d be curious to know what she was like. Probably someone’s most fascinating aunt. Anyway, this book is kind of an extended, comic, meditation on intentions versus actions. The boys initiate the “Boys’ Bird Haters Club of America and Wakefield” (their town)—complete with dedicated notebooks in which to record the bad habits of birds—and secret badges that each has a photo of a local, bird-hunting cat—concealed on back. Ultimately their goal is to let the people know all their negative observations of birds. It’s a long game, extending over several seasons, and in order to keep up their complex ruse, they are forced to take odd jobs to raise money for bird seed and other bird amenities—both to maintain their fabrication as bird lovers—and to get close enough of compile “the goods” on the creatures. Naturally, you see the boys’ transformation coming down Fifth Avenue (depending on your age and/or sophistication)—but that’s okay—it’s just as enjoyable, or more so, knowing the kids are going to come around to bird loving. There’s a lot of characters—local oddballs—including a really well-drawn, local, busybody. The ending almost falls into the classic court case climax—that kind of drama—with speeches, and minds being changed. It’s all very good.

4.23.24

The Anthologist

The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker (2009) The saga of a relatively unsuccessful poet struggling to write the introduction to an anthology of rhyming verse—is an almost absurdly hilarious, and inaccurate, synopsized hard sell to a publisher who is interested (as they all are) in selling books. Who’s going to pay $25 for that book? Well, fortunately fans of Nicholson Baker. I’d call myself one, but I forgot about him for a while. His book, The Mezzanine (1988) made such an impression on me that he’s never been far from my thoughts, even though I’ve admittedly not followed his career very closely. I recently heard about this new book of his, about drawing, which sounds like my cup of tea—so I looked at what else I might have missed, and tried this one, which I loved. It’s narrated by “Paul Chowder” who has a voice and demeanor I was immediately drawn to. He reminds me of some older, smarter friends I’ve had over the years who indulged my cluelessness and taught me a lot—enriched my life, as well as amused me. Much of this book is about poetry, and the more you know about that subject, the more you might get into it—but I’m weak in that area, but never mind. It’s also about a guy whose girlfriend has left him, and he’s trying to find his way—we can all relate to that (or should be able to). He’s kind of a contradictory combination of know-it-all and fool, kind, yet exasperating—easy to laugh at, and also laugh with. Personally, a guy I wanted to spend time with. I think there’s another book with him at the center, so I might read that one, too.

4.13.24

Fairy Tale

Fairy Tale by Stephen King (2022) Another story with a kid whose mother is dead. Can someone direct me to a good essay about why this is so prominent, from Nancy Drew to this book and about half of them in-between? The poor moms! I don’t know why I’ve struggled to connect with Stephen King books—after all, his memoir is my favorite book On Writing. This one was great fun—but the longer the protagonist wore on me, the less I liked it. Maybe just because he’s a 17-year-old regular dude. There are other troubling things—the focus on virility, beauty, bravery, and gun lust—which I guess is just the real world (as well as a lot of fairy tale world)—but still, the author is inventing this world. But, overall, the tale of the other world is so vivid I felt like I was there—S. King is the guy you want on the other side of your campfire. Maybe books are like friends—it’s hard to say why you connect, or don’t connect—and harder still to say why you grow apart. But I have respect for all books, same as all people—at least the ones whose foundation isn’t hatred. As you might expect with this title, it’s constantly self-referential, something that sometimes bothers me and sometimes delights me—I guess depending on how it’s done—same with the constant allusions—I’m more receptive the ones I know. Too lazy to go back and revisit most of the fairy tales, or the Bradbury that I missed. Speaking of which, my favorite Ray Bradbury is that most grounded in the everyday—and I also liked the calmly drawn-out and fascinating regular world first half of this book, most. On the other hand—there’s nothing I like more than a story about a deep, mysterious hole, or well—no disappointment there. And I can use a happy ending once in a while, as well as the love of a dog, and a reprieve from senseless tragedy. Though, I’ve got to say, I would have covered that well with more than concrete and sheets of steel. There are probably people out there looking for it right now. And some of them are sequelists.

4.2.24