I Am The Messenger

I loved, loved, Markus Zusak's book The Book Thief. It has definitely found its way into my top twenty list. I was thrilled to find I Am The Messenger on one of those "We Recommend" shelves at Borders. Both Messenger and Book Thief are young adult books, but The Book Thief was smartly written, emotionally engaging and just all around fabulous. I figured that Messenger would follow the same rules. Unfortunately, no. While the premise was unique and interesting (a down and out cab driver gets chosen to right some wrongs and change lives in his town with the help of cryptic messages left on playing cards), the writing was simplistic and often trite and the ending belonged to the "say what?" category.

Too bad. Maybe I am judging it too harshly because of my overwhelming fondness for the other Zusak book I've read and the fact that it is a young adult book. Anyway, don't choose The Messenger as your entry into the literary world of Zusak - stick with The Messenger.

Back in the swing of things

Finished two books last week.

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a beautiful book about the course of love from inception, through denial, to final redemption over half a century. I love this author. And although Cholera did not affect me on the same level as One Hundred Years of Solitude, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The worlds that Garcia Marquez creates are gorgeous and somewhat magical.

Favorite passages:
He was awakened by sadness. Not the sadness he had felt that morning when he stood before the corpse of his friend, but the invisible cloud that would saturate his soul after his siesta and which he interpreted as divine notification that he was living his final afternoons. Until the age of fifty he had not been conscious of the size and weight and condition of his organs. Little by little, as he lay with his eyes closed after his daily siesta, he had begun to feel them, one by one, inside his body, feel the shape of his insomniac heart, his mysterious liver, his hermetic pancreas, and he had slowly discovered that even the oldest people were younger than he was and that he had become the only survivor of his generation's legendary group portraits.

But his examination revealed that he had no fever, no pain anywhere, and that his only concrete feeling was an urgent desire to die. All that was needed was shrewd questioning, first of the patient and then of his mother, to conclude once again that the symptoms of love were the same as those of cholera.

...they no longer felt like newlyweds, and even less like belated lovers. It was if they had leapt over the arduous calvary of conjugal life and gone straight to the heart of love. They were together in silence like an old married couple wary of life, beyond the pitfalls of passion, beyond the brutal mockery of hope and the phantoms of disillusion: beyond love. For they had lived together long enough to know that love was always love, anytime and anyplace, but it was more solid the closer it came to death.

And now for something completely different...

In my head, David Cross will forever be synonymous with Tobias, the never nude from my favorite TV show, Arrested Development. I've seen him one or two times on Bill Maher's show and decided to check out his first book, I Drink For a Reason. There were a few things that I didn't agree with him about, and didn't even like reading, but I totally respect his honesty, intelligence and straight-up balls for saying what he believes. There were definitely funny parts of the book - my favorite included the section "Things to Do When You're Bored" which included this gem:

"Next time (and every time) you are in a hotel/motel/Holiday Inn (say what?!), take the Bible and inscribe, 'Best Wishes, [Your Name Here].' Then make notes randomly throughout the book, circling passages and writing things like, "WTF?! Is this for real? Bullshit!" etc."

Other really funny parts included his full-disclosure of his hatred for Jim Belushi and "Ideas for T-Shirts to be Sold at Urban Outfitters" (I would buy 'Look at what I think is interesting!').

Favorite Passage:
I would even say that maybe, just maybe, I love America. Much like the conflicted love one might have for an abusive parent or caretaker with a bipolar condition making them capable of true empathy and magnanimous compassion while meeting out cold, unsympathetic, financial "tough love" lessions. My feelings about my country are in the spirit of caring about a fucked-up friend whose condition you hope doesn't get so bad that they end up on A&E's Intervention.

Hallelujah!

Finals are over. I started up right away with Love in the Time of Cholera by my man Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I've already been told not to expect the same mind-blowing-ness that was 100 Years of Solitude, but I am thoroughly enjoying it. I love the worlds that he creates.

Book Withdrawal

So, I haven't picked up a book that didn't end in -ology since getting off the plane from my trip to Europe. My class readings have taken over my life - as have the always arriving piles of magazines.

Last week, however, I read an entire book from cover to cover in one evening. I was going to the Frames concert at the Vic and wanted to get there as soon as doors open. Since I was going alone, this meant that I would be standing by myself for an hour before music started. I brought the thinnest book I had, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

I like to read in all situations - walking down the street, stopped at long street lights, standing in front of the stage at a rock concert... I'm used to getting strange looks for this. Hey, I have a short attention span, what can I say!

Anyway, I braved the strange looks and read the crap out of my book. It was the first thing I've read by RL Stevenson and I enjoyed it. It felt good to read again. I'm looking forward to my short winter break - I'm going to try and read like a crazy person.

When in Rome

I can hardly believe that in a few weeks I'll be in Rome. Even though I'll only be in the Eternal City for a few days total (before and after my cruise), I still chose to read at least one book about the city for every day I'll be there. Two of my favorites were Four Seasons in Rome by Anthony Doerr and As the Romans Do by Alan Epstein. Written in very different styles and covering different topics, the books were a wonderful complement to one another.


The full title of Anthony Doerr's short travelogue is Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia, and the Biggest Funeral in the History of the World. Anthony's wife gives birth to twin boys on the same day that he finds out he has been selected for a prestigious one-year fellowship in Rome. Talk about everything happening at once. Bravely, the new family decides to make the journey and they move to Rome (a place neither of the parents had been) with six-month old twins for a fantastic adventure. The book captures not only the chaos, awe, confusion and charm that the Doerr's face as American transplants in Italy, but the extra-added bonus of being sleep-deprived parents of infant twins (all the while, one, the author, is there to work on writing a novel). I found the book very poetic and charming. There were historical facts woven into the writing, but for the most part, it was a chronicle of the family's journey and experience of Rome. The author's attempt to experience and grapple with the distinct ways and charms of Italians. The family was living in Rome when Pope John Paul passed away and being able to witness the spectacle, the pilgrimage of millions to Vatican City and Rome must have been an amazing site. Doerr describes it, and everything, with care and love.

Favorite passage: "We came to Rome because we'd always regret it if we didn't, because every timidity eventually turns into regret. But the enormity of what I don't know about this place never ceases to amaze me...Rome is beautiful, Rome is ugly. Something about this city exacerbates contrasts, the incongruities and contradictions, a Levi's billboard ripping on the facade of a four-hundred-year-old church, a drunk sleeping on the tram in $300 shoes...It's like America before coffee was "to go," when a playground was a patch of gravel, some cigarette butts, and an uninspected swing set; when everybody smoked; when businesses in your neighborhood were owned by people who lived in your neighborhood; when children still stood on the front seats of moving cars and spread their fingers across the dash...It's a place where stoplights are open to interpretation, lattes should never be ordered after lunch, and a man is not considered a failure if he's forty years old and still spinning dough in a pizzeria...'Though you are a whole world, Rome,' Goethe wrote in 1790, 'still, without love, the world's not the world, Rome cannot be Rome.' A spring night is a power that sweeps through the crowded sheaves of blooming tulips and pours into your heart like a river."

Epstein's book As the Romans Do was as informative as Doerr's was poetic. Like Doerr, Epstein and his wife and their two sons decided to move to Rome - live the dream of so many other ex pats currently residing in the country. Granted, Epstein's sons weren't infants; it was still a move that took guts (and one that I admire, only because I would wish to one day do it). This book was both a decent piece of travel writing, but a very informative guide for someone about to visit the city. The pages I turned down in this book were notable, not for the lyrical content contained within, but for the helpful tips. Things I learned?

• You will pay more for your meal / drink if you sit down at a caffe, rather than order at the bar and stand like the locals do.

• Good luck making photocopies

• You better ALWAYS have the exact change - otherwise a simple purchase can turn into a three-hour, five-transaction affair

• Public drinking fountains are also called nasones and have some of the most delicious public water in the world (if you can figure out how to drink from them)

• Be prepared to eat late

• Be prepared to eat. Period.

These books were so helpful and really made me itch (even more than I already was) to get to Rome and experience it and its people. It seems like a fascinating cultural experience and I can't wait to try some of my very carefully practiced Italian phrases.

I only wish I had more time! There's always the next trip ;)

When You Are Engulfed In Flames

Is David Sedaris' life more interesting than mine? Or does he just have better powers of observation and the ability to communicate stories in a witty and compelling way? I'm leaning towards the latter. At least I hope so...

I enjoyed Me Talk Pretty One Day and Naked. I didn't think they were either boring or remarkable; they were just plain enjoyable. I got into David Sedaris more after I subscribed to The New Yorker. David Sedaris is a regular contributor and many of his essays (including those in When You Are Engulfed In Flames) are featured within the magazine. One of my residents burned me a CD of him reading his stories at Carnegie Hall. His unique voice and wry emphasis added so much to the work and I got really into him.

I was a little disappointed that I had already read a few of the essays in this book (thanks to The New Yorker). However, I am a sucker for any kind of travel writing and I gobbled up the essays on his life in France and his short move to Japan (to quit smoking). I marvel at his ability to complete capture a moment - hilarious and awkward in its entirety. It makes me want to carry a notebook around in my pocket and start talking to the strangest looking people around in hopes of experiencing half the stuff that Sedaris writes about.

Official Book Club Selection

Audiobooks. Love them or hate them? I used to love them when I was kid. An avid reader even then, I soon realized that there were some activities that were inappropriate for reading: arts and crafts (you need your hands), walking down the street (I've mastered that now) and riding in the car (motion sickness!). I would check out tons of audiobooks from the Wheaton library. Especially ones read by a British narrator. There was something so satisfying about sitting at my desk, stamping away to my heart's content and listening to "The Phantom Tollbooth" on my Walkman.

After a fifteen-year hiatus, I decided to go back to audiobooks. Well, on a trial basis. I listen regularly to "This American Life" podcast and was tempted by the offer of a free book from Audible.com. I picked Sarah Vowell's "Assassination Vacation" because I saw that Conan O'Brien and Jon Stewart had guest appearances on the book. Well, I didn't read the fine print and ended up being charged $14.95 a month (for one month only) as a Gold Platinum Premium member. With that honor came one free book. I wasn't too thrilled with my audiobook experience from Sarah Vowell - it sounded like a book I'd much rather physically read than listen to. So this time, I went for laughs.

I love me some Kathy Griffin. I've watched her show, "Life on the D-List" since it started on Bravo. I figured this book would be a good choice, especially since it was read by her. I was right. Instead of feeling like I was being read to, I felt like Kathy was just chit chatting with me. I laughed out loud a lot of times (definitely good on public transportation...people will keep their distance). I loved hearing about her childhood, her long hard climb to legitimate fame, her plastic surgeries, her failed marriage (he stole her money!) and her inside scoops on other celebrities. It was like one really long episode of the show.

I think listening to the audiobook, in this case, was better than actually reading it. Her wit, timing and impersonations added a lot to the experience. I'm definitely not converting to audiobooks (I canceled my Audible membership) but wouldn't turn another comedy memoir down.

Playing Favorites

I have to be honest. I don't trust someone who doesn't have a favorite book. Myself, I have several. The first book that made the list?

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher

This book has been on my reading list for a few months, so I was really excited when I found it for $3.99 at Borders. It combines two things I love: murder mysteries and historical non-fiction. Whoo.

The murder mystery was intriguing. A savage killing of a young child in Victorian England and everyone in the house was a suspect. Was it a sinister stranger or, as Detective Whicher believed, the calculated actions of an angry family member or servant. Detective Whicher believed that he knew who committed the crime but had no physical proof. Unlike modern whodunnits (and shows like Law & Order) the final solution to the case (which came to light five years after the crime via confession) wasn't a total shocker. If you want a total spoiler, you can read about the case here.

The timing of the events (1860) allowed for Summerscale to explore the evolution of the modern detective and discuss this case's influence on the writers of the day (including Dickens) and the development of detective fiction.

I found this book to be less about the murder mystery than about the evolving methods of detection in the late 1800s and the effect that these efforts had on the general public and literature. It was an interesting read but didn't really draw me in or satisfy me like other historical non-fiction mysteries have (Erik Larson's The Devil in the White City comes to mind).

Short stories

I just finished two compilations of short stories, read at the same time, by two of my most favorite authors ever: Roald Dahl and Dave Eggers.

When I think of Roald Dahl, I don't usually think "nasty and wicked" but these are the words used to describe the mind, and adult short stories, of the beloved children's author (in The Best of Roald Dahl). It was a pretty apt description. The short stories were deliciously dark, witty and just plain odd. My absolute favorite was entitled "Genesis and Catastrophe" and was written in 1959. It is the story of Hitler's birth (unknown to the reader in the beginning) that is chilling in its foreshadowing of tragedy and the unimaginable twists and turns of life.

How We Are Hungry was the only book of Dave Eggers' that I had yet to read. Despite what you might think from this post, I am not a big fan of short stories. Sometimes I get too involved and interested in what I am reading and it is over too quickly. I am always compelled by Dave Eggers' ability to tell a beautiful story. I was not entirely disappointed with the stories in this collection but sometimes longed for more. As always, I was impressed by the author's ability to create vivid characters and landscapes with simple and evocative language. I enjoyed seeing the resurrection of two lovely characters from my favorite Eggers book, You Shall Know Our Velocity! I also thought some of the shortest pieces (some only one and a half pagers) were the most charming. The titles of the stories were lovely too: "Climbing to the Window, Pretending to Dance", "Notes for a Story of a Man Who Will Not Die Alone" and "About the Man Who Began Flying After Meeting Her" were some favorites.

My favorite passage was from "Up the Mountain Coming Down Slowly": "When Rita walked past them she tried to smile faintly, without looking too friendly, or rich, or sexy, or happy, or vulnerable, or guilty, or proud, or contented, or health, or interested - she did not want them to think she was any of those things. She walked by almost cross-eyed with casual concentration."

For readers wanting to get into Dave Eggers, I will still recommend You Shall Know Our Velocity! or What Is the What (tied for my favorites).

Barcelona

I have a new hobby that involves my two favorite things: reading and travelling. In preparation for my fall cruise to the Mediterranean, I have purchased four books on Italy and Barcelona to bone up on my knowledge of the land, the architecture, the people and the customs.

Up first was a 500+ page history of Barcelona. Sadly, I didn't realize that this history ended before Franco and did not really include any twentieth century focus. Anyway, it was still an eye-opener to realize how Barcelona's history is in some ways quite distinct from that of the rest of Spain. I really liked learning about the strong and defiant manner that the Catalans of Barcelona tried to separate and distinguish themselves from Castillian Spain. I was incorrect in my assumption that Catalan was simply a different dialect of Spanish - in fact it is an entirely different language, influenced by French and Latin.

The book made me even itchier to explore the fantastical architecture of Barcelona. And for the first time, I learned about Antoni Gaudi's life - his journey from a confident and ego-centric young architect to a penitent and lonely hermit. I've always dreamed of seeing his Sagrada Familia. It was begun in 1882 and slowly inched its way into the Barcelona sky over decades. In the 1930s during the Spanish Civil War, violent mobs turned their anger towards the Sagrada Familia. During this attack, the crypt was raided and bodies were dumped on the street. In addition, all of the plans, drawings and letters were burned. Gaudi, having passed away in 1926, was not around to share his vision. Construction continued, and continues to this day, but no one really knows what Gaudi's ultimate vision was for his church, nor how he would have finished it.

I'll have to find another source to round out my understanding of the city - I would really like to know more about the Civil War and Franco. I'm definitely getting more and more jazzed up for this trip. I wonder how many books I can bring with me on the boat...

The beginning.

And this shall be my book blog. I had another one that I shared with Shelley and Kate, but that is kind of defunct.

I'm thinking of starting a whole line of ShaBang blogs and products. ShaBang Bites (where I talk about nachos and potatoes); ShaBang Abroad (where I move to another country and do the ShaBang blog there for awhile). Ok, pipe dreams aside...

I love books. A lot. If you know me, you know this. If you've seen my book shelves or my credit card bills, you know this.

I don't like writing book reviews, but sometimes want to talk about books. Especially reactions and favorite passages.

For example: I sat next to a girl on the EL the other week. She was reading the third or fourth Harry Potter book. I was supremely jealous. Why? Because I've already read them and know what happens and have no more Harry Potter to read.

Do you ever feel like that? Like you have read every single writing by your favorite author and crave more but can't get it (especially if said author is kaput)?

I'm hoping to dedicate some serious time to reading this summer while I take a break from grad school.

Let's get ready to rumble.