This Week in Books, 3rd Ed.

TBR had a relatively easy week.

After driving back from St. Louis, where TBR attended a lecture and signing by the great Welsh writer, Jasper Fforde, it was time to actually start reading his latest book, Early Riser. So far, it's a good one, dealing with a world in which humans hibernate during the winter months (well, most of them; this is about those who don't).

First though, TBR had to finish up All the Light We Cannot See, which took a while -- not because it isn't good (spoiler alert: it is) -- but because of its subject matter. It's a tough book to read.

As for next on the list,TBR is looking forward to reading  The Bees, about a resistance movement in a beehive. Seriously. Listen to this blurb:

 "Then (Flora) finds her way into the Queen's inner sanctum, where she discovers secrets both sublime and ominous. Enemies roam everywhere, from the fearsome fertility police to the high priestesses who jealously guard the Hive Mind. But Flora cannot help but break the most sacred law of all, and her instinct to serve is overshadowed by a desire, as overwhelming as it is forbidden."

Sounds delightfully weird, doesn't it?

TBR stayed out of bookstores this week, so did not buy any more books. But the need-to-buy list is getting lengthy, and TBR is feeling a bit antsy and a growing desire to add to the stack. Must resist. The Stack needs to shrink, not grow.

Book Review: All the Light We Cannot See

All the Light We Cannot  See, by Anthony Doerr

This is a book about war.

It's about the worst of war: The bigotry, the poison, the death. It's about the dirty business of war: The propaganda of hatred. The killing of one's humanity. The destruction of  innocence.

But it's also a book about redemption, about saving one's humanity, about overcoming fear and ignorance, and about accepting grace from your better angels.

In this book, we meet two players from World War II: Werner Pfennig, a German teenage boy living in an orphanage, who has a flair for electronics and mathematics, and the slightly younger Marie-Laure LeBlanc, 12 in 1940, a blind girl living in Paris with her father. Each has a cast of characters coming in and out of their lives. For Werner, it includes his sister Jutta, as smart and enterprising as he is, who simply cannot accept Werner's gradual assimilation into the Nazi regime, and his roommate Frederick, a sensitive boy and bird watcher who is considered too weak for the Third Reich. For Marie-Laure, a reluctant member of the resistance in Saint-Malo, France, where she is forced to flee, it includes her father, Daniel LeBlanc, who has dedicated his life to teaching her to survive in a sighted world, and her Uncle Etienne, a WWI veteran with lingering mental problems from that service, who strives to overcome his fears to protect Marie-Laure.

It also features a strange blue diamond, the Sea of Flames, said to be blessed and cursed, that becomes the focus of the lives of several characters in the book.

The story is told, in alternating chapters, from the perspectives of Werner and Marie-Laure. Their lives and experiences eventually intersect and intertwine, coming to several emotional encounters as the book reaches its climax.

Doerr won a Pulitzer prize for this novel, and it is easy to see why. It is sometimes a hard book to read, but ultimately, is worth the time and effort.

This Week in Books, 2nd Ed.

It's been a busy week at the TBR blog. I've finished a couple of books, bought a few more, and just returned from St. Louis, where I attended a book signing.

< One book read-and-reviewed came from a friend (it was a good book, though, so no conflicts), and the second > came after seeing and reading a play.

Still, the TBR Stack expanded, after I strolled into a local used bookstore -- in the case, Half Price Books -- and found three books I had to have. Two of the three already were on the TBR list, so that did not expand too much.

The finds included Mr. Fox, by Helen Oyeyemi. Her latest, Gingerbread, which is recommended reading for Black History Month, was not available, but her first novel was. Also put in the stack was The Woman Who Died a Lot, the (as of now) final book in the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde. The Bees, by Lline Paull, has long been on the TBR list. It is literally about in-fighting in a colony of bees.

Now we get to the high point of the week: A visit to St. Louis to hear Fforde speak about his newest novel, Early Riser, and have him sign a copy. Fforde talked about developing and writing his stories, starting with a "narrative dare." This time around, it was to "write a thriller in world where humans have always hibernated." So that's what he did.

"Fantasy is the sandbox of fiction"

The author and me

Book Review: Fences

Fences, by August Wilson

I went to see this play this weekend at one of my local theaters, and loved it. But I figured I missed a few things, so I asked my daughter -- the real theater nerd in the family -- if she had a copy of the play. She did. Of course she did. It's her favorite play by her favorite playwright.

It's also a Pulitzer prize winner.

So I read it, and picked up a few things I had missed. More importantly, as I am learning to read plays, I discover it is easier to do so once you have seen the show.

This is outwardly a simple play, shown in a stark  format. Even the stage directions are sparse. All the scenes are in the bleak and dusty yard of the main character. This is a play that depends on its writing for its impact.

It is the story of Troy Maxson, a black sanitation worker in Pittsburgh in the late 1950s. Troy is bitter about how life has treated him because of his race. He is particularly angry that his baseball days -- he was a power hitter and one of the top players in the Negro Leagues -- coincided with the ban on African-Americans playing in Major League baseball. He especially hated when he was told he simply came along too early.

"There ought not never have been no time called too early," he shouts at one point early in the show.

The story revolves around Troy's relationship with his family and friends. It explores how his past -- including the racism he experienced and continues to experience -- influences his thoughts and actions. It's a remarkable play by a remarkable author.

Book Review: Wine in the Sand

Wine in the Sand, by Jim White

I am generally not a fan of stories of wars or memoirs of soldiers. I never served in the military -- too young for Vietnam, too old for anything else -- and quite frankly didn't miss it. I'm not sure I could have survived. I tend to avoid violence and consider myself mostly a pacifist.

So I looked at this book -- a tale of White's time in the Air Force during Desert Storm -- as a kind of adventure, feeling I could read it with an open mind because I know the guy who wrote it.

And you know what? I liked it.

White is kind yet cocky, laid-back but intense (he once finished an unofficial triple Ironman, with the support of many friends, because he wanted to), friendly, generous, and witty. So is his book.

What I expected from a memoir of war was lots of heroics, ramped-up violence, gung-ho feats of daring-do, cynicism of the highest order. It's none of those -- OK, there is just the teensiest bit of sarcasm -- but instead it's chock full of tales of guys just trying to survive the best way they know how, trying to do an impossible job, and looking for the best in themselves and others.

It's a weird little book: Short chapters (I like; it makes for quick reading), no page numbers (didn't like), strong, explosive writing, and black-and-white Polaroid pictures.

See? I do know the guy.
 And Karen Minzner,
who took the cover photo,
is a great photographer.

White writes of his involvement in the lead up to Desert Storm -- his unit of fire fighters was one of the first sent to Saudi Arabia after Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. He writes of their survival and new experiences in a strange land. He writes of skirting the edges of military rules and regulations, and of driving hours through the desert to find his true love. The book is mostly one of good times. Even when he gets serious about three-quarters of the way through, he finds the positive.

The absolute fear of dying violently during a SCUD missile attack? Hey, it's just an extended version of the Fourth of July fireworks, with a little homemade wine on the side.

So, about the title. Is it a play on "line in the sand," which President Bush used to defend the initiation of the Gulf War? Or was it used because Wine on the Desert was already taken?

I need to know.

This Week in Books, 1st Edition

Apparently, this is a thing with book bloggers: You write about what books you've just read, are reading, and what you plan to read next. I'm not always that scheduled -- often I just go to my TBR stack and grab what looks interested.

But hey, I'll play along. Maybe I'll make this a permanent feature.

My week in books. 

First off, as one can tell by my latest review, I have just finished, for the second time, Stephen's King's Elevation. As Lawrence Welk would say, "It's wunnerful, wunnerful."

On my current reading list are two books. One is the Pulitzer-prize winning, All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr. It's a book set in and before World War II, and contrasts the growing up of a blind French girl and a orphan German boy with a knack for electronics. So far, so good. The second is a Gulf War memoir, Wine in the Sand, by a buddy of mine, Jim White. It's as wild as the war (apparently) was.

As for what comes next, I'm not sure. It might be Music Love Drugs War, by Geraldine Quigly, a novel about growing up in Northern Ireland during the heart of the Troubles in 1980. Or is might be Jasper Fforde's latest, Early Riser, about a human society that hibernates in winter. Bonus for me: I am going to see Fforde speak and sign my book at Left Bank Books in St. Louis next week. Yippee!!

Book Review: Elevation

Elevation, by Stephen King

I read this book last year, but I never got around to writing a review of it. Which is a shame, because I liked it so much. So I figured I'd write a review now.

So, of course, I had to read it again.

Right? I mean that would be only fair. Right?

It is even better the second time around.

This is an unusual Stephen King book, yet it's the ultimate Stephen King book. Great characters in a great story, with a little supernatural sprinkled in, as a cook throws in a few handfuls of salt to enhance the food. As The Washington Post put it, King writes "about real people tested by unreal situations."

Yet, except for the main character's unexplained weight loss, the book explores all-too-real situations: Prejudice in its classic form, privilege in not recognizing that prejudice, and understanding and overcoming that prejudice and privilege.

And for a writer whose books often top 1,000 pages, this is a shorty -- weighing in at a mere 146 pages.

It deals with a middle-aged white guy -- Scott Carey, a web designer -- who is unexpectedly dropping weight. He lives in Castle Rock, Maine, a setting of several of King's novels. In addition, Carey -- and the town -- is dealing with his new neighbors, a lesbian couple who opened a vegetarian restaurant. Carey has not gotten off to a good start with the women, who have not gotten off to a good start in the small, conservative town.

For a short novel, it's packed with  characters and issues.

As an added attraction for me, it's also about the glories and benefits of running. Indeed, I could go so far as to say it's a book that elevates running to a spirituality that allows us to explore the beauty and structure in the world.

A key part of the book occurs during the running of a 12K Thanksgiving race. I won't say more to avoid spoilers, but suffice to say that King goes into a lot of detail about a runner's thought process during a race. And he gets it right: The anticipation at the start, the camaraderie of the runners, the excitement of taking off and running alone while surrounded by like-minded people, the torture of the hills, the strategic battles in your head, and the exhilaration of reaching beyond yourself, embracing the suck, and accepting the joy of the run.

"Scott thought of how he'd felt running down Hunter's Hill, when he'd gotten his second wind and the whole world had stood revealed in the usually hidden glory of ordinary things -- the leaden, lowering sky, the bunting flapping from the downtown buildings, every precious pebble and cigarette butt and beer can discarded by the side of the road. His own body for once working at top capacity, every cell loaded with oxygen."

Did I mention that King is my favorite writer?  He's one of the best. The above paragraph, along with many others, is a reason this has become one of my favorite Stephen King books.

Book Review: Six Foot Six

Six Foot Six, by Kit de Waal

This is a strange book. Weird even.

It's short. Just at 80 pages. It's simply written.

But it's good. Really good. The unadorned writing complements the minimalist nature of the book, which tells a basic narrative: How kindness and understanding allow a person to positively affect another. As the story grows, so does its structure, its writing, and its literary heft.

It's about a tall kid and a working man. The kid, celebrating his 21st birthday, is around 6-foot-6, depending on which shoes he is wearing. He's mentally disabled, the result of a beating from his father. The guy is older, an independent construction worker skirting on the edges of legitimacy. He's in hock to a vaguely organized crime boss, who threatens him with bodily harm if he doesn't finish the job he's working on and come up with the money he owes. He has until 7 that night to pay up.

The man hires the kid to helps him out.

The result is a tale of a man and a boy, of different backgrounds, working together to solve a problem, and improve each other's lives.

It's good. It's really good.

Book Review: The White Boy Shuffle

The White Boy Shuffle, by Paul Beatty

I felt uncomfortable when I started reading this book.

I bought it because I had read Beatty's award-winning novel, The Sellout, which in 2015 won the Man Booker Prize and the National Book Award. The White Boy Shuffle is his first book, written in 1996.

It concerns Gunner Kaufman, the blackest white surfer dude in Santa Monica. Kaufman is a novelty in his hometown, being the only person of color in his neighborhood and on the beaches. He regales his friends and classmates with his blisteringly funny stories about his ancestors.

But it's the telling of those stories that make me uneasy. Yes, Beatty is black, and he has the right to write about African-Americans, their history, and their culture in whatever way he pleases. And he does, using racist epithets, tropes, and colorful language. It was hysterical. And I laughed. But I felt horrible doing so. As a white man, I cannot simply and easily share his use of such racial terms, and I probably should not admit I laughed out loud more than once at his doing so. But at least I looked around to make sure no one saw me chuckling.

Anyway, Kaufman's mother thinks he is losing touch with his blackness, and to remedy it, she decides to move the fatherless family to a black neighborhood in Los Angeles. A poor, crime-ridden, ghetto neighborhood in South-Central L.A. There, his first visitors are two police officers, who demand to know which gang he's in. When he claims none, the cops reply that because he's a free agent, they'll be watching him.

Also watching him are the gangs in the 'hood, who promptly beat him up for talking to the cops.

Eventually, he settles in, trading his surfing skills for the basketball court, and honing his poetry. He becomes widely popular, and when asked to speak at a demonstration, reluctantly does, turning himself into a self-described Negro demagogue.

Widely funny, sometimes somber, often outrageous, White Boy Shuffle is an intense novel addressing questions of race, class, and identity that are as relevant today as they were 24 years ago.