So, yes, I've been slacking on the book reviews. Fear not, I have been forging through many a book, including: 
It is a white cake with buttercream icing. And yes, that is dyed coconut for grass. Freaking awesome. I'm very proud of it. The only thing I would change is the writing--I need a different tip that is thick but not a star design. But by the time I realized this last night it was too late and Michael's was closed. Oh well.
I know all one of you who read this have been waiting patiently for me to finish Thrilling Tales so I can write about it, but fear not, I finished it a couple of weeks ago and have actually since finished another book as well. But before we get into the real business of this blog, a quick update on life.
Two weeks ago marked the end of my grad school career (because I’m graduating, not because I’m quitting) and yesterday solidified my 4.0 reign over the Publication Management program. It was a little shaky at the end, but I prevailed and my grade report now hangs with glory on my parent’s refrigerator, where it will remain for the next five years.
Nick recently got a new job, so be sure to read all of his articles on thefreedictionary.com and the freelibrary.com once he starts on Monday. Not only does this mean he no longer has to cover municipal and school board meetings, but also means he can go to Frisbee every week when it starts in June (and carpool! Yes!) and that we are one step closer to achieving item #6 on my Things to Do in 2008 list (Buy a house). We are very close, people! You are invited to the party when we get one (which will be a very small party if this proves to be our only means of inviting people).
McSweeney's Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales, Michael Chabon, ed.
Thrilling Tales promised to bring me all new, never before seen, original stores, and that, by god, it did. All of my favorite subjects were covered: time travel, the end of the world, cats, revenge, true love… wait a minute. Seriously though, the stories were delightfully strange and adventurous. “Catskin” was about a boy whose mother turned into a cat after she died, and then she burned down a house with cats in it, and then sewed him what was essentially a cat-skin hoodie, and every now and then he decided to put the hoodie on and walk around on all fours like a cat. I’m still trying to figure out any metaphors or ssssssymbolism, although it may have just been a really weird story. And I’m all for that! Because I am weird. And because I absolutely love cats, some might say bordering on obsessed (the only thing holding me from plunging into full crazy cat lady status is Nick, and I’m not sure that will prevent me in the future. He has limited me to only having one cat at a time, which I guess I agree with because if I had more than one I’d never get anything done, I’d just sit all day admiring how freaking adorable they are and running around the house with them playing tag). Although I don’t think I would ever sew cat hides together to make myself a little cat jacket. That seems a bit too far.
Thrilling Tales marked the first works I have read by Michael Crichton and Stephen King. I know, very hard to believe that I’ve never read Stephen King, but there it is. And they were back-to-back. The rate at which Stephen King pushes out stuff is amazing to me. It makes me wonder if he actually still enjoys writing, or if it has become so commonplace to him that he doesn’t really even have to try anymore. Because that would be sad. But at the same time, does he really have to try anymore? He’s built up such a substantial platform that I think people will buy his books even if they are crap. Does Michael Crichton still write books? To be honest, I was (obviously) never too interested in either, and I’m not really any more interested now.
I have to say that my favorite story in the whole collection was Nick Hornby’s “Otherwise Pandemonium.” What is it with me and apocalyptic scenarios? I do enjoy them, although I can’t recall reading a book with such a premise. But “Pandemonium” took apocalypse to a different level by adding in a time-travel-y aspect that is really fun and had me frantically turning the pages so I could find out what happens. Not since High Fidelity have I been that engrossed in Hornby’s stuff, and it was refreshing to experience it again. Please don’t disappoint me with another book like A Long Way Down. Seriously, man. Don’t.
And there are still so many other great stories! One about a detective investigating the death/murder of Hitler’s neice/lover. A stream-of-thought-ish recount of a drug epidemic in NYC that included conspiracy theories and apocalyptic scenarios (this was a jackpot other than the somewhat annoying stream-of-thought-ishness which made me feel like I was on drugs). One weird one about a husband and wife who collected salt and pepper shakers and ended up killing each other (I’m still not sure why). A tale about a circus elephant that gets hanged (this had some great twists in it that I can’t give away but made the story have an amazing structure). One war story about a general who escapes and seeks refuge with a girl and her grandmother that I didn’t think I’d enjoy, but did, because it was not only touching but really pissed me off at the end. (Isn’t it great when a book/story really gets an emotion out of you?!) A story about a guy who is working at an archeological dig and the mischief a writer stirs up when she comes to do some research. I could go on and on! They were all great, which is rare in a short story collection (in my experience, anyway).
Dave Eggers’ “Up the Mountain Coming Down Slowly” really geared me up to read What is the What?, the pick for this year’s One Book One Philadelphia, which Nick and I intend on reading at the same time and discuss (in case you had, until now, escaped the fact that we are total nerds, hello, we are!). I am also pumped to one day read You Shall Know Our Velocity!, which Nick picked up for me at a book sale the other day. It goes without saying that I have no business buying or receiving any books at this point, given that my “To Read” shelf is now overflowing onto the already overflowing shelves on my bookshelf and throughout my tiny tiny bedroom. I don’t know where to put them anymore! My box set of hardcover Harry Potter’s that I got for Christmas, thanks to my understanding parents, resides in their family room downstairs, but until the insanely joyous day that I get to move out of my parents house, I have no idea where I am going to start putting all of my loot. In the last month alone, thanks to bargain books and used book sales, I have gotten the following:
You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers
What is the What? By Dave Eggers (I know I already mentioned these two, but I felt the need to include them in order to entirely disclose my what should be shame at buying even more books when I have about 70 unread ones.)
White Teeth by Zadie Smith
Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver
Summerland by Michael Chabon
The Wonder Spot by Melissa Bank
Then We Came to an End by Joshua Ferris
Bait and Switch by Barbara Ehrenreich
And as a gift for being done grad school, Nick bought me a hardcover box set of: Charlotte’s Web, Stuart Little, and The Trumpet of the Swan all by E.B. White, of course. Aren’t the illustrations in Charlotte’s Web and Stuart Little absolutely fantastic? Garth Williams is amazing. They make me so nostalgic for library class in elementary school and that book of ghost stories that I always checked out even though it was really easy to read, with the story about the girl who wore a green ribbon around her neck, which, to the surprise of her boyfriend, Alfred, held her head on. (Exciting! Just found that book: In a Dark, Dark Room and Other Scary Stories.) I also remember really liking the word Caldecott, as in the medal for illustrations. There’s just something really nice about it that makes me feel happy. I think we had a Caldecott winner visit our library once, and I’ve always been happy when surrounded by books, so maybe that’s why. But who knows where my weirdness evolves from, it just does.
A book is always the perfect gift for any occasion. One of my last classes was Book Proposals and I came up with an idea to make a book of gift suggestions for every occasion. Although the flaw of this idea is that most people would probably just browse the book in the bookstore and not buy it, because why would you if it was available for reference in the exact location where you would buy the gift? Perhaps a website instead. But that’s a project for another time. You should buy Thrilling Tales for the adventure seeker in your life. Someone who isn’t afraid to be a nerd or weird or crazy or gremlin, and likes going on long journeys that aren’t predictable.
Up next: My thoughts on Confessions of a Tax Collector: One Man's Tour of Duty Inside the IRS by Richard Yancey
After that: Specimen Days by Michael Cunningham (currently reading)
This is the most disturbing thing I've heard since JesusCamp.
I am almost finished the McSweeney's. Last week of grad school! Weee!
Although it was tough to read, Migraine is definitely one of the most informative books I have ever read, and am thankful that I read it. Since 2002, I have suffered (and I do mean suffered) from migraines, complete with auras, which are pretty much the most terrifying and annoying thing I have thus encountered in life. And how thankful I am that I am in the minority of migraine sufferers who get them! Thanks to Excedrin Migraine, and now some wonder drug that my neurologist prescribed that I take when I get auras that eliminates the migraine, my migraines have been manageable. I would rather not have them, but I guess I don't really have a choice in that.
And that's what an aura is. Mine usually last from 15-45 minutes. They start out at some point in my field of vision and slowly work their way up to the top, and then eventually out of my field of vision. After that my vision is still a little weird, in that I can't look at a computer and (much to the delight of my co-workers) must sit with sunglasses on, and I get a usually mild headache, due to my medicine, and maybe some nausea, that usually lasts about two hours in entirety. Once that is gone, my vision is mostly back to normal. Fun, no? It's much better than before which involved complete incapacitation and throwing up and sensitivity to light, sound, etc., which usually hit a high mark during which I would cry out of pain and complete lack of control. Good times.
Anyway, Migraine really put things in perspective for me in regards to what other migraine sufferers have to experience, and I am so very thankful that I have relatively low-key migraines. Once, during a migraine, I lost feeling in my fingers on my left hand, and was, rightfully so, freaking out. This is actually normal, and can effect your entire arm. Terrifying. Thankfully this has only happened once.
Migraine made my migraines a little less horrifying, but still left me wondering why we don't yet know what causes migraines. I'm pretty sure mine are stress related (my neck/shoulders/back are insanely tight) and therefore my neurologist suggested to seek chiropractic and massage therapy weekly/bi-weekly. No problem! Medicinal massages are by far the best prescription I have gotten in life.
My only problem with Migraine is that it got very medical at times, making it difficult to understand. Also, the entire time while reading it I was paranoid that I was going to get a migraine. I don't know how this could have been helped, but I'm pretty sure the tiny font size didn't help matters. Anyway, a big thank you to Oliver Sacks for making my life a little less scary. I recommend that you gift this book to anyone who gets migraines, even if they think they know everything about them. Believe me, you don't. Plus the pictures are neat.
To-Do List by Sasha CagenFor my Book Proposals class, I was required to sign up for various e-newsletters about publishing (Publisher's Lunch, Publisher's Weekly Daily), including Daily Dose by Powell's, which sends out information about a new book every day. A couple of weeks ago I got a Daily Dose for To-Do List and immediately started freaking out because I LOVE to do lists and somehow have never heard of the magazine or blog that existed before the book. So I raved about it for about twenty minutes at work and then went about my business.
That weekend I was at Barnes and Noble doing a project for Book Proposals when, right next to the escalators, I saw a table with books on it, and there it was. And I squealed. And Nick was embarrassed (per usual). And then I did the next normal thing when I see a book I'm excited about: pick it up and hug it like someone is going to take it away from me. Even though it was $16, even though I didn't have any gift certificates from Christmas, even though I ended up buying the $30 Writer's Market to complete said project and item #1 on my To-Do List for 2008 (seen below)(I also ended up buying Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself to Live. It had been on my to-buy list for years! And it was only $5!), even though I have been horribly cheap/frugal in order to accomplish item #6, and even though I had just gotten 22 new books for Christmas and have about 50 other books on my to-read book shelf, I allowed myself to buy the book. And then read it immediately. And I loved it.
I love the concept, the design, the section introductions, the actual lists, and the type of paper they printed the book on. I really love that instead of just typing out what was on the lists, they actually included images of the lists (as does the blog and probably the magazine). My lists are most often lists of errands I have to run or things I need to buy or projects I need to do at work, and this book opened my eyes to the endless possibilities of lists. I would summarize but I really think you should check this one out for yourselves. It is amazing. You should buy it for everyone, because everyone should make lists! As promised:
2008 To Do List (in progress):
1. Submit 3 pieces of writing to publications
2. Enter a photography contest
3. Read 30 books
4. Bake one cake from Cakes to Dream On
5. Perfect my cheesecake and chocolate chip cookie recipes (testers needed)
6. Buy a house
7. Learn how to make steaks with the yumsy crust/seasoning rub like I had at Bobby Flay's Steakhouse (AC)
Next Up: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl (What? I needed something light after Migraine. Plus my sister is putting on the musical in the beginning of March and I think it's finally time that I read the real thing. Also, this doctor that I encountered in the ER the other night totally reminded me on the crabby teacher and now I'm in the mood.)
I'm a little more than halfway done Migraine, but I have good excuses as to why this one is taking so long: -My very own migraines that grace my existence about once a week -Nick being ridiculously hilarious while trying out for the Olympics -Fancy weddings at the Crystal Tearoom and nights spent at the Ritz Carlton (I would show you my pictures but stupid webshots is down) -Quizzo And one bad excuse that I will soon no longer be making: -Grad school I'll probably finish Migraine up some time next week. I think I'm in the mood for some fiction next.
The Yiddish Policeman’s Union by Michael Chabon
The Yiddish Policeman’s Union (YPU) is set in an alternate reality, much like Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America which assumes that Charles Lindbergh, a Nazi sympathizer, was elected President of the US, only it took me longer than it should to understand what kind of alternate reality. After reading a Publisher’s Weekly review of the YPU, I have come to discover that apparently “Franklin Roosevelt proposed on the eve of World War II, a temporary Jewish settlement had been established on the Alaska panhandle.” This was obviously never followed through with, but Chabon pretends that it did and thus YPU is born. I had understood that there was a large settlement of Jews in Alaska, but I could not have told you why. Was it implied somewhere at the beginning of the book? I have no idea.
What I can tell you is that YPU is a really dense detective story that I would have enjoyed if a) I had an easier time catching on to the Yiddish that was interspersed throughout (which was quite upsetting since I’m the only Irish girl I know who says she’s shvitzing instead of sweating), and b) I paid more attention to the insane amount of rambling details throughout its 400+ pages. Not that I didn’t know what I was getting into. Last summer I had struggled through Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and vowed to finish it during my Pocono retreat vacation. While it ended up being one of my top ten favorite reads of last year, it still required a constant effort to concentrate and get through the heft. I admit I was more interested in Kavalier and Clay’s story than YPU, but I was interested all the same.
Because I like a good mystery. I recently rediscovered this when while visiting for Christmas, Nick’s grandmother was struggling with the puzzle of Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, which is absurdly hard. It took us four hours to get the woman’s dress and arm together. I consider a puzzle like a mystery because you’re trying to find where the pieces it. I realize that this is partly my OCD shining through, but I really needed to get that puzzle together. The last time I checked, it was still sitting unfinished on Nick’s dining room table.
So one morning Meyer Landsman, a detective in Sitka (the Jewish settlement) is awoken by his landlord to investigate a murder that occurred overnight a few floors down. Soon afterwards enters Landsman’s cousin/partner, a half Jewish, half Tlingit (which I actually recognized after reading many books set in Alaska as of late: Into the Wild, If You Lived Here I’d Know Your Name, and pieces of Assassination Vacation, which I believe is the source of my knowledge about the Tlingit people) detective. And then all of these things started to happen and I wasn’t really sure where the story was going, but parts were exciting and made me want to read more, so I continued. And then I got so far into the book that I couldn’t justify giving up on it, so I labored on and forced myself to commit to the back 200 pages and when the plot got resolved it wasn’t very satisfying. And I’m obviously not satisfied with the effort it took to read the 400+ pages when I didn’t really get anything out of it.
This could be for a number of reasons; one being I never really understood the motivations of the characters. Landsman is an absolute mess, having been (relatively) recently divorced from his wife. The only theme I recognize throughout the entire thing is one’s destiny, but even that is weakened by strange plot twists that either happen outside of the pages or I was so distracted with anything else around me (weird people on the train, the depressing man in the neurologist’s office who said he never reads anymore because he has the History channel, Beans (my cat)) that I missed it on the page. It was funny at times but not as often or as intense that its hilarity alone carried the book. I smiled to myself a few times but never broke out into the kind of laughter that leaves my co-commuters reassured that I am, in fact, insane. Hopefully the book that I got for Christmas that Chabon edited is more enjoyable.
Up Next: Migraine by Oliver Sacks
Also, this hilariousness is what the boyfriend has been up to. (Great pic!) And this.
