This is the third and final selection from "jumpstart on January," as I will be saving two selections for the assigned month (beginning in less than a week). All clear? Great. In the meantime, I just finished The Doll's House, the second of ten in the collected Sandman graphic novels by Neil Gaiman. When the first in the set was assigned, a couple of month's back, I mentioned that I liked the potential of the story and characters more than the story and characters themselves. This is often true when it comes to the beginning of a series of books or television shows. I wondered, at the time, whether I'd enjoy reading on in the Sandman series.
I did. This second book begins with a fully developed title character, which provides the story with a strong foundation to build upon. The story that is built, of a woman named Rose Walker who may be a vortex, is often dark, sometimes demented, and always dreamlike. Gaiman's interplay between reality and dreams and his questioning of whether reality is any more "real," is deftly done. Having long despised the "it was all a dream" device as a copout, I was pleased to see Gaiman imbue it with real meaning. This book made me both afraid and excited to go to sleep. It made me wonder what I might dream and ready to get started.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Unvarnished New Testament
Based upon a radical and startling premise, Andy Gaus' Unvarnished New Testament asks "Why not present the New Testament simply as it appears in the original Greek?" The result is something inviting and invigorating, a refreshing look at familiar (for me) texts. What Eugene Peterson works to capture in his translation, The Message (sometimes succeeding and sometimes miserably failing), Gaus captures with far more consistency and accessibility. Peterson's "updated" language is so "current" as to be dated, while Gaus' language is simple, but never reads as slang. Written in the form of paragraphs, with the numbers removed, Gaus' translation is a reminder that this text was meant to be taken in large chunks more than individual verses, and challenging the reader to dig the way the would into any good book. I read it Matthew to Revelation and discovered a translation that I will most certainly be revisiting and recommending. I would like to see The Unvarnished New Testament made more readily available to the general public. In the meantime, it is worth making the effort to find.
12-25-11
Have decided to leave the rest of January until January. And so, my current list is as follows:
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving
- The Sense of An Ending by Julian Barnes
- Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
- Today's New International Version of the Bible
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Kester's Best of 2011 (Revised and Expanded Edition)
Earlier today, I posted my Top 10 for 2011, followed by five honorable mentions. Then I promptly remembered two others that were too good to leave out. So. Now. Again. In order:
- Pulphead by John Jeremiah Sullivan
- 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
- Galore by Michael Crummey
- The Sense of An Ending by Julian Barnes
- Crimes In Southern Indiana by Frank Bill
- Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
- The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
- The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht
- Townie by Andre Dubus III
- Zombie Spaceship Wasteland by Patton Oswalt
- Chinaberry Sidewalks by Rodney Crowell
- The Geeks Shall Inherit The Earth by Alexandra Robbins
- The Pastor by Eugene Peterson
- The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss
- The Cat's Table by Michael Ondaatje
- The End of Everything by Megan Abbott
- Zone One by Colson Whitehead
- The Visible Man by Chuck Klosterman
- Reamde by Neal Stephenson
- The Informationist by Taylor Stevens
Kester's Best of 2011
These are books published in the U.S. in 2011 that were read by me in 2011. If your pick didn't make the list it a) wasn't published in the U.S. in 2011, b) wasn't read by me in 2011, or c) wasn't one of my ten favorite books. Now, in order:
- Pulphead by John Jeremiah Sullivan
- 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
- Galore by Michael Crummey
- The Sense of An Ending by Julian Barnes
- Crimes In Southern Indiana by Frank Bill
- Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
- The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
- The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht
- Townie by Andre Dubus III
- Zombie Spaceship Wasteland by Patton Oswalt
Saturday, December 17, 2011
12-17-11
What Should Kester Read? selections (jumpstart on January)
- The Doll's House by Neil Gaiman
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
- A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving
- Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me
Second up in the "jumpstart on January" What Should Kester Read? queue is Martin Millar's Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me. Knowing nothing about the book or the author, my going in expectations were as close to neutral as you can get. My feelings coming out were anything but.
I want to be careful how I word this, because I don't want to seem to damn this book with faint praise. The fact is, I loved this book. As coming of age stories go, this and Blankets are the two best I've read this year. But what's great about this book is that Millar isn't going for anything spectacular; by not attempting to do anything particularly literary, Millar succeeds in doing something really great.
Too many "classic" fictional memories of adolescence lean heavy on angst and less on heart. You get the sense that any serious tale of high school remembrance requires a main character who might commit suicide or murder his classmates at any second. But most of us don't remember high school that way. We remember feeling strongly about almost everything, particularly music and the opposite sex, but in more of a confused and fuzzy stomached way and less with the angsty and angry. We remember high school the way Millar's narrator does, so that, even though the events take place in Glasgow in 1972, they feel as familiar to me as Chicago in 1993. For me it was Nirvana and not Zeppelin and the girl's name was Kelli and not Suzy, but the story is the same. It's sweet and sad and just a bit (but never overly) sentimental, just the way growing up was. It's lovely, and I loved it, and I think that you will too.
I want to be careful how I word this, because I don't want to seem to damn this book with faint praise. The fact is, I loved this book. As coming of age stories go, this and Blankets are the two best I've read this year. But what's great about this book is that Millar isn't going for anything spectacular; by not attempting to do anything particularly literary, Millar succeeds in doing something really great.
Too many "classic" fictional memories of adolescence lean heavy on angst and less on heart. You get the sense that any serious tale of high school remembrance requires a main character who might commit suicide or murder his classmates at any second. But most of us don't remember high school that way. We remember feeling strongly about almost everything, particularly music and the opposite sex, but in more of a confused and fuzzy stomached way and less with the angsty and angry. We remember high school the way Millar's narrator does, so that, even though the events take place in Glasgow in 1972, they feel as familiar to me as Chicago in 1993. For me it was Nirvana and not Zeppelin and the girl's name was Kelli and not Suzy, but the story is the same. It's sweet and sad and just a bit (but never overly) sentimental, just the way growing up was. It's lovely, and I loved it, and I think that you will too.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
12-15-11
What Should Kester Read? selections (jumpstart on January)
- The Doll's House by Neil Gaiman
- Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me by Martin Millar
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
- A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving
- Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
Fables Vol. 1: Legends In Exile
If it seems unfair to judge a comic book series by its initial efforts, that's because it is. Writers and artists are still fleshing out the characters, figuring out the arc, finding out how things work and where things are going. But it's also next to impossible to begin a series anywhere but at the beginning. Which is where Joe started me with my first "jumpstart on January" What Should Kester Read? selection; Fables Vol. I: Legends In Exile by Bill Willingham.
What I loved about Legends In Exile is what will keep me reading Fables, the premise and the characters. The premise is that the fable and fantasy characters of yore have been exiled to live in our 20th century reality. Those that are able to assimilate and adapt live a sort of undercover existence among us "mudanes," while those that would stand out more (talking pigs and such) live on a secluded farm away from probing eyes. King Cole is the figurehead mayor; his assistant, Snow White, is actually running the show; her ex, Prince Charming, makes trouble among the "mundanes."
Legends In Exile is mostly about setting up the premise and introducing enough characters to keep us interested, particularly Snow White's hard-boiled detective, Bigby Wolf. Where it loses me is in setting up a mystery for Wolf to solve that isn't that interesting and ends rather stupidly. The entire case feels flimsy, like it's being made up as it goes, and that's because it is. Like I said, Willingham is still figuring out what this is.
That said, what it could be is brilliant. While I didn't love Legends In Exile, I believe in the Fables enough to keep reading.
What I loved about Legends In Exile is what will keep me reading Fables, the premise and the characters. The premise is that the fable and fantasy characters of yore have been exiled to live in our 20th century reality. Those that are able to assimilate and adapt live a sort of undercover existence among us "mudanes," while those that would stand out more (talking pigs and such) live on a secluded farm away from probing eyes. King Cole is the figurehead mayor; his assistant, Snow White, is actually running the show; her ex, Prince Charming, makes trouble among the "mundanes."
Legends In Exile is mostly about setting up the premise and introducing enough characters to keep us interested, particularly Snow White's hard-boiled detective, Bigby Wolf. Where it loses me is in setting up a mystery for Wolf to solve that isn't that interesting and ends rather stupidly. The entire case feels flimsy, like it's being made up as it goes, and that's because it is. Like I said, Willingham is still figuring out what this is.
That said, what it could be is brilliant. While I didn't love Legends In Exile, I believe in the Fables enough to keep reading.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
12-14-11
Given that I have too long book club books to read for January and the time to read more around the holidays, I've decided (with Joe's permission) to get a jumpstart on Joe's January picks. Given that I'm jumpstarting, I'm also rule-bending a bit and allowing myself to continue with what I'd already been reading. Come January 1st, I'll be allowed only remaining January selections (I'm intentionally saving Little Big and Once and Future King for January), book club books, the Bible, and one book of my choosing for every selection already finished. Clear as mud? Good. As long as it makes sense to me. Here's where we stand as of today:
What Should Kester Read? selections (January come early)
What Should Kester Read? selections (January come early)
- The Doll's House by Neil Gaiman
- Fables Vol. 1: Legends In Exile by Bill Willingham
- Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me by Martin Millar
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
- A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving
- Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
Mr. Vertigo
My fifth and final of Danny's What Should Kester Read? picks is Paul Auster's Mr. Vertigo. Not sure what I was expecting with this book, but this wasn't it. This was better. Much better. Auster's writing is hit and miss with me, but this one is a hit, for sure.
There are a lot of nice surprises in this book and I don't want to reveal too much. In a way, it's a story about America during the 20th century by being the story of a boy coming of age into a man and then aging into an older man over the span of that same century. As a result, it feels like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Natural and Philip Roth's Zuckerman novels and David James Duncan's The Brothers K. It's magic and it's Hollywood and it's gangsters and it's baseball and it's WWII and it's the Ku Klux Klan. It's the kind of book the Coen brothers should adapt into a film. It's a knowing wink and a sad smile. It's jaunty and joyful and winsome and wild. It's the kind of story that doesn't get told much anymore, because it takes place in a time since the Civil War and before the cellular phone. It's lovely and I loved it and I think that you will too.
There are a lot of nice surprises in this book and I don't want to reveal too much. In a way, it's a story about America during the 20th century by being the story of a boy coming of age into a man and then aging into an older man over the span of that same century. As a result, it feels like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Natural and Philip Roth's Zuckerman novels and David James Duncan's The Brothers K. It's magic and it's Hollywood and it's gangsters and it's baseball and it's WWII and it's the Ku Klux Klan. It's the kind of book the Coen brothers should adapt into a film. It's a knowing wink and a sad smile. It's jaunty and joyful and winsome and wild. It's the kind of story that doesn't get told much anymore, because it takes place in a time since the Civil War and before the cellular phone. It's lovely and I loved it and I think that you will too.
Monday, December 12, 2011
12-12-11
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Mr. Vertigo by Paul Auster
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
- A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving
- Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
The Stars My Destination
My fourth book to review in this month's What Should Kester Read? will, undoubtedly, be my favorite. I have yet to finish the fifth and final book (Paul Auster's Mr. Vertigo), but, while I am enjoying it very much, it can't compare to Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination.
Gully Foyle is the last remaining survivor of the Nomad, a merchant spaceship attacked in the war between the Inner Planets and Outer Satellites and left adrift in space. He struggles to survive a six month wait for rescue, only to have his distress signal ignored by the spacecraft Vorga. Left to die, Foyle's fight for survival transforms into a mission of vengeance.
Gully Foyle's story borrows on themes from The Count of Monte Cristo and then expands them into a highly original sci-fi adventure. Many of the tropes that are now common within the genre were first explore by Bester in this book. Not only that, but Bester writes a great sentence as well as he tells a good story. "The old year soured as pestilence poisoned the planets," is just one example. Full of twists and turns and more than a few surprises, this is what good science-fiction aspires to be. This is what good fiction of any genre aspires to be; complex characters, stunning set pieces, and an epic tale brilliantly told.
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
My third book to review in this month's What Should Kester Read? is B. Traven's The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Interestingly, this is the second book this month to have been adapted into a film that I love. However, while The Neverending Story proved far superior to its film version (though the film will continue to hold a special place in my nostalgic ol' heart), The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is no better and no worse than The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Which is to say that the book is an excellent book and the film (I now discover upon reading said book) is an excellent adaptation.
Three down-and-out gringos meet by chance in a Mexican city and discuss how to overcome their financial distress. They set out to discover gold in the remote Sierra Madre mountains, riding by train into the hinterlands and then surviving an attack by bandits. Upon discovering the treasure they seek, a mine is dug, gold is extracted, and greed produces paranoia, as one of the men, Dobbs, begins to lose his trust and then his mind, filled with a desire to possess the entire treasure for himself.
Care to guess whether that's a synopsis of the book or the film? The answer is, of course, yes. John Huston's award for Best Adapted Screenplay was well deserved, right down to the "Badges?!" exchange. But he'd have had no story to adapt without the brilliant B. Traven. This is a classic tale of how the love of money really is the root of evil and why Gordon Gekko was wrong when he said, "greed is good." Read the book. See the film. The order is unimportant. Whichever you get to first will be your favorite, but you're bound to love them both.
Three down-and-out gringos meet by chance in a Mexican city and discuss how to overcome their financial distress. They set out to discover gold in the remote Sierra Madre mountains, riding by train into the hinterlands and then surviving an attack by bandits. Upon discovering the treasure they seek, a mine is dug, gold is extracted, and greed produces paranoia, as one of the men, Dobbs, begins to lose his trust and then his mind, filled with a desire to possess the entire treasure for himself.
Care to guess whether that's a synopsis of the book or the film? The answer is, of course, yes. John Huston's award for Best Adapted Screenplay was well deserved, right down to the "Badges?!" exchange. But he'd have had no story to adapt without the brilliant B. Traven. This is a classic tale of how the love of money really is the root of evil and why Gordon Gekko was wrong when he said, "greed is good." Read the book. See the film. The order is unimportant. Whichever you get to first will be your favorite, but you're bound to love them both.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
12-3-11
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Mr. Vertigo by Paul Auster
- The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
- The Treasure of the Sierra Madre by B. Traven
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- Light In August by William Faulkner
- Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
The Neverending Story
The Neverending Story is a film that I saw for the first time as a young boy, a story about a boy my age and my type; quiet and shy and timid and scared. A boy who'd like to be strong and courageous, but doesn't see how that would ever happen. And then the boy discovers a book full of adventure and gets so caught up in it as to become a part of it. This was my kind of movie. Even as a grown man, it still is.
The Neverending Story is the book that the film is based on, though I didn't know the film was based on a book until I began working at BookPeople. I wondered if the book could be as great as the film, but worried that it couldn't possibly and put off reading it as a result. Then Danny assigned it to me and there was no avoiding it.
Thank goodness. Everything that is great about the movie is even better in the book, which previous experience with book to film adaptations should have convinced me already was so. In both cases the story is about reality, fantasy, escape friendship, imagination, and story itself. And that's enough. But in the case of the novel, that's only half the story. Literally. The book reaches its halfway point at the same place the movie ends. After that, the book goes on to also be about power, free will, individuality, isolation, grief, choice, growth, change, meaning, memory, identity, and love. It is the second half that fleshes out the first and makes the entire story far richer than the film's first half offering.
Let's be clear, I still love the film. But it simply fails to tell the whole story (or never attempts to, the result is the same) and the whole story, in this case, is brilliant. Where the first half is about the wishes and fantasies of a young boy, the second half is about what happens when those fantasies come true and why young boys (especially timid boys who long to be strong) ought to be careful what they wish for. The second half is coming of age story, it's about how real strength and courage cannot (and should not) come easy, it's about how betting older and bigger doesn't count for much if we don't get wiser as well. It's an amazing tale that I wish I had discovered at a young age and am glad to have discovered now. It is a story that I look forward to reading with my young son.
Then we'll see if he still likes the movie.
The Neverending Story is the book that the film is based on, though I didn't know the film was based on a book until I began working at BookPeople. I wondered if the book could be as great as the film, but worried that it couldn't possibly and put off reading it as a result. Then Danny assigned it to me and there was no avoiding it.
Thank goodness. Everything that is great about the movie is even better in the book, which previous experience with book to film adaptations should have convinced me already was so. In both cases the story is about reality, fantasy, escape friendship, imagination, and story itself. And that's enough. But in the case of the novel, that's only half the story. Literally. The book reaches its halfway point at the same place the movie ends. After that, the book goes on to also be about power, free will, individuality, isolation, grief, choice, growth, change, meaning, memory, identity, and love. It is the second half that fleshes out the first and makes the entire story far richer than the film's first half offering.
Let's be clear, I still love the film. But it simply fails to tell the whole story (or never attempts to, the result is the same) and the whole story, in this case, is brilliant. Where the first half is about the wishes and fantasies of a young boy, the second half is about what happens when those fantasies come true and why young boys (especially timid boys who long to be strong) ought to be careful what they wish for. The second half is coming of age story, it's about how real strength and courage cannot (and should not) come easy, it's about how betting older and bigger doesn't count for much if we don't get wiser as well. It's an amazing tale that I wish I had discovered at a young age and am glad to have discovered now. It is a story that I look forward to reading with my young son.
Then we'll see if he still likes the movie.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
12-1-11
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Mr. Vertigo by Paul Auster
- The Neverending Story by Michael Ende
- The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
- The Treasure of the Sierra Madre by B. Traven
- Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway
- Light In August by William Faulkner
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
Lone Wolf and Cub, Vol. 1
The myth goes something like this; violence can make the world better. Violence isn't pretty, per se, but it can be heroic, admirable, sexy, and even beautiful. Violence brings order from chaos, fixes what's wrong, puts things to rights. It's the myth that allows us to do violence that we might not otherwise be able to bring ourselves to do. We aren't madmen, after all, we want out violence to have a degree of rightness, of justice. Now, just because something's a myth doesn't necessarily make it a lie, but this one often is. And we know it. But we like violence. So we imbue it with meaning.
There's a great line in the film Grosse Pointe Blank when John Cusack's character, a professional hitman named Martin Blank, is accused of being a psychopath and responds, "Psychopaths kill for no reason, I kill for money." It's funny because it's the kind of logic that only makes sense to a hitman; most of us in the audience think you'd have to be a psychopath to kill people for money. But what Martin Blank makes us wrestle with is why his work as a military assassin was legitimate while his work as a paid professional somehow isn't. It's good for us to have to think about.
Koike and Kajima's Lone Wolf and Cub: The Assassin's Road is the story of an assassin and his young son. The title character's mindset is much like Martin Blank's, though he hardly needs money to make his excuse. He kills. Fortunately for him, more unfortunately for his victims, he lives in a time and place that accepts this; father and son cut a bloody swathe through Edo-Period Japan.
What's interesting is the way in which the myth of redemptive violence is utterly absent. In general, Lone Wolf's victims are "bad guys," but that's beside the point. Lone Wolf kills. He often uses his son as bait in order to lure his victims in. When this is pointed out as irresponsible, he dismisses this questioning of his parenting skills. A wolf cub is still a wolf, after all. Lone Wolf isn't an angry man, but he is almost always looking for a fight; the way a lawnmower's only happy when it's mowing a lawn. He wouldn't know what else to do. When his son intentionally urinates on a stranger and the stranger demands an apology (a perfectly acceptable demand), Lone Wolf opts for a swordfight instead. Violence makes sense in the world of Lone Wolf and Cub. Violence is what is. They don't need a hero story to make it pretty.
And that, for me, is why the story works. Or, better said, why the action works; there's very little plot development and it's about as necessary as the plot development in porn. Lone Wolf and Cub is a series of action sequences held together loosely (almost flimsily) by plot. Plot isn't the point. You came to see this guy fight. He's more than happy to oblige.
Some would argue that the violence in Lone Wolf and Cub is objectionable in a way that, say, the violence in some Clint Eastwood films is not, those who require the myth of redemptive violence. I would tend to argue the opposite. There's something less offensive about the violence of Lone Wolf and Cub; it's more artfully rendered than a Tom and Jerry cartoon, but it's just as pointless. We like to see anvils dropped on heads. We like to see assassins with swords. Better to have this violence in a story so void of morality that we don't mistake violence for something beautiful.
So, did I enjoy Lone Wolf and Cub? As a story, not really, but that's not the point. As a series of action sequences it works, absolutely; I abhor violence in real life, but I like to watch a samurai swing a sword. And I appreciate the fact that Koike and Kojima don't try to sell me the violence as something good; something to be emulated, celebrated, or admired. My sense is that the authors' intent is to show the absurdity of the violence, by pursuing it relentlessly. There's no point to any of it, it seems almost arbitrary, and so honor and glory don't enter in as much as a need for money and taste for blood. The authors are saying something about violence and it isn't nice. I would be shocked to discover that things take a more heroic turn, unless the character of Lone Wolf experiences an epic transformation. The way the authors are going now, my guess is that this series wraps with Lone Wolf (and, maybe, Cub) coming to a bad end. If there's a message to be had here, it's that violence, for all its appeal, always ends badly.
There's a great line in the film Grosse Pointe Blank when John Cusack's character, a professional hitman named Martin Blank, is accused of being a psychopath and responds, "Psychopaths kill for no reason, I kill for money." It's funny because it's the kind of logic that only makes sense to a hitman; most of us in the audience think you'd have to be a psychopath to kill people for money. But what Martin Blank makes us wrestle with is why his work as a military assassin was legitimate while his work as a paid professional somehow isn't. It's good for us to have to think about.
Koike and Kajima's Lone Wolf and Cub: The Assassin's Road is the story of an assassin and his young son. The title character's mindset is much like Martin Blank's, though he hardly needs money to make his excuse. He kills. Fortunately for him, more unfortunately for his victims, he lives in a time and place that accepts this; father and son cut a bloody swathe through Edo-Period Japan.
What's interesting is the way in which the myth of redemptive violence is utterly absent. In general, Lone Wolf's victims are "bad guys," but that's beside the point. Lone Wolf kills. He often uses his son as bait in order to lure his victims in. When this is pointed out as irresponsible, he dismisses this questioning of his parenting skills. A wolf cub is still a wolf, after all. Lone Wolf isn't an angry man, but he is almost always looking for a fight; the way a lawnmower's only happy when it's mowing a lawn. He wouldn't know what else to do. When his son intentionally urinates on a stranger and the stranger demands an apology (a perfectly acceptable demand), Lone Wolf opts for a swordfight instead. Violence makes sense in the world of Lone Wolf and Cub. Violence is what is. They don't need a hero story to make it pretty.
And that, for me, is why the story works. Or, better said, why the action works; there's very little plot development and it's about as necessary as the plot development in porn. Lone Wolf and Cub is a series of action sequences held together loosely (almost flimsily) by plot. Plot isn't the point. You came to see this guy fight. He's more than happy to oblige.
Some would argue that the violence in Lone Wolf and Cub is objectionable in a way that, say, the violence in some Clint Eastwood films is not, those who require the myth of redemptive violence. I would tend to argue the opposite. There's something less offensive about the violence of Lone Wolf and Cub; it's more artfully rendered than a Tom and Jerry cartoon, but it's just as pointless. We like to see anvils dropped on heads. We like to see assassins with swords. Better to have this violence in a story so void of morality that we don't mistake violence for something beautiful.
So, did I enjoy Lone Wolf and Cub? As a story, not really, but that's not the point. As a series of action sequences it works, absolutely; I abhor violence in real life, but I like to watch a samurai swing a sword. And I appreciate the fact that Koike and Kojima don't try to sell me the violence as something good; something to be emulated, celebrated, or admired. My sense is that the authors' intent is to show the absurdity of the violence, by pursuing it relentlessly. There's no point to any of it, it seems almost arbitrary, and so honor and glory don't enter in as much as a need for money and taste for blood. The authors are saying something about violence and it isn't nice. I would be shocked to discover that things take a more heroic turn, unless the character of Lone Wolf experiences an epic transformation. The way the authors are going now, my guess is that this series wraps with Lone Wolf (and, maybe, Cub) coming to a bad end. If there's a message to be had here, it's that violence, for all its appeal, always ends badly.
What Should Kester Read In December?
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Lone Wolf and Cub, Vol. 1 by Kazuo Koike
- Mr. Vertigo by Paul Auster
- The Neverending Story by Michael Ende
- The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
- The Treasure of the Sierra Madre by B. Traven
- Light In August by William Faulkner
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Blankets
The fifth and final selection from this month's What Should Kester Read? selections was Blankets by Craig Thompson. If there has been a more widely recommended book among my circle of friends over the past 5 years, I cannot recall it. Cp-workers, church members, college buddies, all shocked that I still hadn't gotten around to reading Blankets, all sure that it would quickly become one of my favorite novels of all time.
So, let's get this out of the way. It didn't. Which is not to say I didn't enjoy it. I did. I really did. But the way people talked about it, I was sure it was going to be about far more than it was and that it would touch me far more deeply than it did. That said, I dug it. This book only disappoints due to unreasonably high expectations. If you're expecting it to edge out Infinite Jest or The Brothers K, it didn't come close.
But I really did like it. Here's what I liked. I liked the art. Thompson knows how to make use of his medium better than any of this month's selections (or at least as well as Essex County). Using pictures to tell a story means that the writer can show instead of tell, time passing can be inferred by the reader, if the writer trusts us enough to simply imply it. The transitions between towns or seasons are captured within a few wordless frames. This is why we read graphic novels. Thompson understands that.
He also understands that our ability to fill in the blanks doesn't only apply to pictures, but to words as well. Without specifically spelling out certain events, Thompson hints at them and, by keeping them always slightly hidden, tells us something about fear and anger and secrets. Even the sweetest moments of this story are haunted and without Thompson ever having to tell us that they are.
As far as a story of first love, this is about pitch perfect. This is how it feels to be young and in love, especially when the world doesn't simply go away just because you wish that it would. In some ways, I might have enjoyed this even more if I had gone in expecting it to be a high school first love story. It tells the kind of story it's telling about as well as that story gets told (I honestly can't think of a better perils of growing up/awkwardness of being a teen/loveliness of being in love story than this); I wanted it to be about something more. Still, leaving the reader wanting more means you did something right more than it means you did something wrong. Blankets is a great story, beautifully rendered and brilliantly told.
So, let's get this out of the way. It didn't. Which is not to say I didn't enjoy it. I did. I really did. But the way people talked about it, I was sure it was going to be about far more than it was and that it would touch me far more deeply than it did. That said, I dug it. This book only disappoints due to unreasonably high expectations. If you're expecting it to edge out Infinite Jest or The Brothers K, it didn't come close.
But I really did like it. Here's what I liked. I liked the art. Thompson knows how to make use of his medium better than any of this month's selections (or at least as well as Essex County). Using pictures to tell a story means that the writer can show instead of tell, time passing can be inferred by the reader, if the writer trusts us enough to simply imply it. The transitions between towns or seasons are captured within a few wordless frames. This is why we read graphic novels. Thompson understands that.
He also understands that our ability to fill in the blanks doesn't only apply to pictures, but to words as well. Without specifically spelling out certain events, Thompson hints at them and, by keeping them always slightly hidden, tells us something about fear and anger and secrets. Even the sweetest moments of this story are haunted and without Thompson ever having to tell us that they are.
As far as a story of first love, this is about pitch perfect. This is how it feels to be young and in love, especially when the world doesn't simply go away just because you wish that it would. In some ways, I might have enjoyed this even more if I had gone in expecting it to be a high school first love story. It tells the kind of story it's telling about as well as that story gets told (I honestly can't think of a better perils of growing up/awkwardness of being a teen/loveliness of being in love story than this); I wanted it to be about something more. Still, leaving the reader wanting more means you did something right more than it means you did something wrong. Blankets is a great story, beautifully rendered and brilliantly told.
Buddha, Vol. 1 and Palestine
Well, it was bound to happen. I'm sort of surprised it hasn't happened sooner. Regardless of the generally good taste of my friends, co-workers, and blog-followers, there was bound to come a book or two that I didn't enjoy. In fact, two books. In a row. The third and fourth picks from this month's What Should Kester Read? selections.
I came to Buddha with a personal bias that made for an enjoyment barrier. I don't love manga. And Tezuka is the king of manga. Astro Boy is Tezuka. Speed Racer isn't Tezuka, but might as well be. Which is fine, but it's so distinctive that I end up seeing Speed Racer even when I'm supposed to see the boy who will be the Buddha.
The story doesn't help. Not the story of the Buddha, but Tezuka's take on it. Unless I'm missing something, it's just the classic myth writ "cool" for a new audience. The time and place are right, but the vernacular is updated to the tastes of a 12 year old boy. It's like Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet in reverse. And it doesn't work. It makes the myth less mysterious. It makes it seem like an episode of Astro Boy, starring everyone's favorite action hero, the Buddha.
Palestine I also disliked, but for different reasons that are more difficult to pin down and articulate. It wasn't that I didn't like the art and it wasn't that I didn't like the story, which seem like the main factors in enjoying a graphic novel. This had more to do with layout and form. If Palestine were a film, I wouldn't blame the screenplay, I'd blame the director. The whole thing feels shot wrong, or maybe just not shot in a way I like. Either way, I didn't like it. I'd actually have preferred to have read it as a straight piece of reporting and not reporting in a graphic novel format.
What's sad is that both stories, in different hands, would have made for excellent graphic novels. The story of the Buddha, especially, I would still love to see done as a graphic novel, but done better. Unfortunately, most folks who have read Buddha don't share my opinion of it and won't be clamoring for someone else's take.
Fortunately, my fifth and final selection was better. Blankets.
I came to Buddha with a personal bias that made for an enjoyment barrier. I don't love manga. And Tezuka is the king of manga. Astro Boy is Tezuka. Speed Racer isn't Tezuka, but might as well be. Which is fine, but it's so distinctive that I end up seeing Speed Racer even when I'm supposed to see the boy who will be the Buddha.
The story doesn't help. Not the story of the Buddha, but Tezuka's take on it. Unless I'm missing something, it's just the classic myth writ "cool" for a new audience. The time and place are right, but the vernacular is updated to the tastes of a 12 year old boy. It's like Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet in reverse. And it doesn't work. It makes the myth less mysterious. It makes it seem like an episode of Astro Boy, starring everyone's favorite action hero, the Buddha.
Palestine I also disliked, but for different reasons that are more difficult to pin down and articulate. It wasn't that I didn't like the art and it wasn't that I didn't like the story, which seem like the main factors in enjoying a graphic novel. This had more to do with layout and form. If Palestine were a film, I wouldn't blame the screenplay, I'd blame the director. The whole thing feels shot wrong, or maybe just not shot in a way I like. Either way, I didn't like it. I'd actually have preferred to have read it as a straight piece of reporting and not reporting in a graphic novel format.
What's sad is that both stories, in different hands, would have made for excellent graphic novels. The story of the Buddha, especially, I would still love to see done as a graphic novel, but done better. Unfortunately, most folks who have read Buddha don't share my opinion of it and won't be clamoring for someone else's take.
Fortunately, my fifth and final selection was better. Blankets.
11-17-11
Personal Selections
- Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut
- The Orphan Master's Son by Adam Johnson
- A Partial History of Lost Causes by Jennifer Dubois
- The Postmortal by Drew Magary
- A Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
- Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi by Geoff Dyer
- Light In August by William Faulkner
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Preludes and Nocturnes
The second selection read in this month's What Should Kester Read? was Neil Gaiman's Preludes and Nocturnes, a compilation of the first eight comic books in his Sandman series. When I read this month's first selection, Essex County, it was because I expected to like it the least. It ended up being one of the best graphic novels that I have ever read. Preludes was my second choice, and for similar reasons. I am not a Neil Gaiman fan.
And yes, before you ask, I read American Gods. Yes, I also read Neverwhere. Yes, Good Omens too. No, none of them did it for me. I don't hate Neil Gaiman. I just sort of "meh" Neil Gaiman.
But I like this. I didn't at first, but I'm used to not liking a series at first. Ever seen the original Seinfeld? Yeah, I didn't like that either. It takes time for a story to find its direction and a character to find his voice. That's true of some of my favorite stories and it is true of Sandman. But by halfway to two-thirds into Preludes, Gaiman is hitting his stride. When you consider that there are 75 total issues in this series (10 collected works), you realize he's got a long way to go. Which means he's got a lot of time to do a lot with this story. Or to blow it. Which he could. I thought I was going to like American Gods too.
For now, at least, I am very much enjoying Sandman. It's just the right mix of dark and comic, it's wry and weary title character the perfect blend of lights and darks, as shadowy as the story he finds himself in. It feels weird to say a story this dark is "fun," but it is. I'm having fun with this story and this character and I am looking forward to reading more.
Fortunately for me, my forward thinking friend and co-worker, Joe Turner, has already picked book two, The Doll's House, as one of his five What Should Kester Read? selections for January. I'm pretty sure I can wait until then.
The fact that I'm not completely sure should tell you something. This series will hook you. It certainly has me.
And yes, before you ask, I read American Gods. Yes, I also read Neverwhere. Yes, Good Omens too. No, none of them did it for me. I don't hate Neil Gaiman. I just sort of "meh" Neil Gaiman.
But I like this. I didn't at first, but I'm used to not liking a series at first. Ever seen the original Seinfeld? Yeah, I didn't like that either. It takes time for a story to find its direction and a character to find his voice. That's true of some of my favorite stories and it is true of Sandman. But by halfway to two-thirds into Preludes, Gaiman is hitting his stride. When you consider that there are 75 total issues in this series (10 collected works), you realize he's got a long way to go. Which means he's got a lot of time to do a lot with this story. Or to blow it. Which he could. I thought I was going to like American Gods too.
For now, at least, I am very much enjoying Sandman. It's just the right mix of dark and comic, it's wry and weary title character the perfect blend of lights and darks, as shadowy as the story he finds himself in. It feels weird to say a story this dark is "fun," but it is. I'm having fun with this story and this character and I am looking forward to reading more.
Fortunately for me, my forward thinking friend and co-worker, Joe Turner, has already picked book two, The Doll's House, as one of his five What Should Kester Read? selections for January. I'm pretty sure I can wait until then.
The fact that I'm not completely sure should tell you something. This series will hook you. It certainly has me.
11-10-11
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Blankets by Craig Thompson
- Buddha, Vo. 1 by Osamu Tezuka
- Palestine by Joe Sacco
- Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi by Geoff Dyer
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
Thursday, November 3, 2011
11-3-11
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Blankets by Craig Thompson
- Buddha, Vo. 1 by Osamu Tezuka
- Palestine by Joe Sacco
- Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman
- The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
- Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi by Geoff Dyer
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
1Q84
"It feels like I'm experiencing someone else's dream."
So speaks Aomame; one of the two main characters in Haruki Murakami's newest book, 1Q84.
The year is 1984, and Aomame is a professional assasin who takes a shortcut to her latest job, only to find that she may have stumbled into a different world, altogether. It is a place she begins to call 1Q84 ("Q is for 'question mark.' A world that bears a question.") Finding her way in this new world is only the beginning to finding her way out. In the meantime, she must discover why it is that she is there.
Meanwhile, an aspiring young writer named Tengo is persuaded to secretly ghost write a novel called Air Chrysalis. it is a novel which contains a world with two moons and spirits known as "the Little People." As Tengo rewrites this world, he finds himself slowly drawn into it.
Fans of Murakami's fiction know that to read his stories is to enter into a dreamworld of sorts; the twists can be confusing, the characters confounding, their decisions complex. But we go along for the ride because we trust that Murakami will get us safely (if not unscathed) out the other side. 1Q84 can be placed alongside Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Hard-Boiled Wonderland as some of his best work. It is strange and sad and thrilling. It feels like you're experiencing someone else's dream.
So speaks Aomame; one of the two main characters in Haruki Murakami's newest book, 1Q84.
The year is 1984, and Aomame is a professional assasin who takes a shortcut to her latest job, only to find that she may have stumbled into a different world, altogether. It is a place she begins to call 1Q84 ("Q is for 'question mark.' A world that bears a question.") Finding her way in this new world is only the beginning to finding her way out. In the meantime, she must discover why it is that she is there.
Meanwhile, an aspiring young writer named Tengo is persuaded to secretly ghost write a novel called Air Chrysalis. it is a novel which contains a world with two moons and spirits known as "the Little People." As Tengo rewrites this world, he finds himself slowly drawn into it.
Fans of Murakami's fiction know that to read his stories is to enter into a dreamworld of sorts; the twists can be confusing, the characters confounding, their decisions complex. But we go along for the ride because we trust that Murakami will get us safely (if not unscathed) out the other side. 1Q84 can be placed alongside Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Hard-Boiled Wonderland as some of his best work. It is strange and sad and thrilling. It feels like you're experiencing someone else's dream.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Essex County
The first book I tackled in this month's What Should Kester Read? was Jeff Lemire's Essex County. Like last month's selections; Sara's five picks for November are all graphic novels. Unlike last month's selections, Sara's five picks are less familiar to me, none more so than Essex County. I went in with no sense of whether this would be funny, gory, mysterious, or what.
What is was was as honest and heartfelt a tale as I have read in some time. I'm not sure why this graphic novel doesn't get more attention (at least from the folks I'm in conversation with), because it's a reminder that a graphic novel can be just as literary and rich and rewarding as standard novels. It was sad without being maudlin, it was sincere without being sanguine. It was what I expect Blankets to be when I read it for the first time, later this month. It was a truly human story. It was proof that real doesn't equal cynical or jaded. It's a beautiful piece of work.
And that's just the story and the writing of it. The art is the other element and it is perfect. Sparse and simple and subdued. Much of it feels like pencil sketches lovingly rendered, but never "fixed." Pages go by without a word being written, a reminder that the great storytellers know when to show instead of tell.
In case you missed it, I loved this book. I started with it, figuring that it would be nothing special and I'd just get it out of the way. Now I worry that the rest of the month won't measure up. I was saving Blankets for last, sure that it would be my favorite. Essex County makes me far less sure.
What is was was as honest and heartfelt a tale as I have read in some time. I'm not sure why this graphic novel doesn't get more attention (at least from the folks I'm in conversation with), because it's a reminder that a graphic novel can be just as literary and rich and rewarding as standard novels. It was sad without being maudlin, it was sincere without being sanguine. It was what I expect Blankets to be when I read it for the first time, later this month. It was a truly human story. It was proof that real doesn't equal cynical or jaded. It's a beautiful piece of work.
And that's just the story and the writing of it. The art is the other element and it is perfect. Sparse and simple and subdued. Much of it feels like pencil sketches lovingly rendered, but never "fixed." Pages go by without a word being written, a reminder that the great storytellers know when to show instead of tell.
In case you missed it, I loved this book. I started with it, figuring that it would be nothing special and I'd just get it out of the way. Now I worry that the rest of the month won't measure up. I was saving Blankets for last, sure that it would be my favorite. Essex County makes me far less sure.
11-1-11
What Should Kester Read? selections
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Blankets by Craig Thompson
- Buddha, Vol. 1 by Osamu Tezuka
- Essex County by Jeff Lemire
- Palestine by Joe Sacco
- Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman
- The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
- Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi by Geoff Dyer
- The Unvarnished New Testament by Andy Gaus
What Should Kester Read? selections
- Blankets by Craig Thompson
- Buddha, Vol. 1 by Osamu Tezuka
- Palestine by Joe Sacco
- Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman
- 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
- The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
- Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi by Geoff Dyer
- The Unvarnished New Testament by Andy Gaus
Friday, October 28, 2011
10-28-11
Fiction
- 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
- Essex County by Jeff Lemire
- A Partial History of Lost Causes by Jennifer Dubois
- Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson
- Into The Silent Land by Martin Laird
- The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson
- Still by Lauren Winner
- The Unvarnished New Testament translated by Andy Gaus
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