When magic misses the mark

I recently picked up The Alchemyst at Central. It piqued my curiosity because it was all about Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle, who made an off-stage appearance in the first Harry Potter book. I had no idea they were real people or even established mythological figures, so I checked out the book partially to find out which.

My disappointment is probably evident from the title of the post. The story centers around teenaged twins Sophie and Josh Newman, who get sucked into the centuries-old battle between the Flamels and a man named John Dee. Josh works for Nick and Perry (as they've styled themselves in the 21st century) at the bookstore they own; Sophie works at the coffee shop across the street. The battle (briefly) is over control of the Codex of Abraham the Mage, which is a copper-bound book that is part instructional and part prophetic. The Witch of Endor, Bastet, Heckate and the Morrigan all have their roles to play in the tale, as do some less familiar figures, such as the mythological female warrior Scathach.

By all rights, it should've been a compelling tale, but it just didn't have that X-factor. I finished it while I was riding home from a wedding across the state, so I've had plenty of time to ruminate on its shortcomings, and I think it lies with the characters. The Harry Potter books can trace much of their success to its character development. True, there are a few cardboard cutouts in there, but at least they're archetypes. You look at Draco Malfoy and you see the snotty rich kids who used to make fun of your Payless sneakers. You see in Fred and George the class clown that you would've had somewhat of a crush on but could never quite take seriously. Cho Chang was the one you desired without really even knowing anything about. But you just can't warm up to Josh and Sophie, or even to Nick, Perry, Scathach or the others, in any way, shape or form.

The book teems with emotions, but they're shown, not described. You know Josh is hurt and angry because the text says "Josh felt hurt and angry," when showing him slamming the door or kicking a pebble would've conveyed the message. The twins are so passive it's hard to feel anything for them. They get caught up in the saga and continue to essentially do as they're told without questioning it. They're so slow to cotton on to some things that it angers the reader (quick, tell me what you think of an island known as Danu Talis that sunk beneath the ocean in ancient times? ever hear a story like that anywhere else bfore?). You get a bit bored waiting for them to play catch-up, and you've read enough similar books to know how it will all turn out anyway.

Actually, there was one surprise waiting for me at the end. It turns out that the author intends to make this a franchise, and apparently has part of the next book already written. No doubt, the author is seeing dollar signs and a movie deal in his future. Whenever anything new becomes popular, it always spawns a variety of imitators. Nirvana and Pearl Jam had their Candlebox and Stone Temple Pilots, and so the renewed interest in J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and the success of J.K Rowling and Phillip Pullman have spawned much new work in the fantasy genre. But if you're in search of the next Harry Potter, you can cross The Alchemyst off your list of hopefuls.

Promised and Delivered

Nearly every book you encounter comes with gushy blurbs on the back cover, the first few pages, the book jacket, or in all three places. "The best book this year!" "Wildly inventive!" "An astonishing new voice!" Most readers learn to take these with a grain of salt before they leave the primary grades. However, Jonathan Barnes' The Somnambulist actually lives up to its hype, and then some. It really is "inventive and often witty" (Observer, U.K) and it truly does "make the familiar daringly unfamiliar" (Jeff VanderMeer). And yeah, you should "remember the name Jonathan Barnes," as the book jacket itself advises.

The book was terrific, every reader's dream. It is a sort of fantasy/thriller/detective novel set in Victorian London. At the start of the novel, we have our protagonist, Edward Moon, preparing to take the stage for his nightly performance. Edward Moon is a detective and magician, quite past his prime, who performs his nightly show with his partner, The Somnambulist of the title (a mute giant who does not bleed when stabbed). But he longs for the glory days, when he was a fixture of society and a well-known detective. The wish for one last great case has nearly passed into pure fantasy when the last great case explodes into his life with a vengeance. Along the way, there are such jewels as the Freak Brothel and the man who lived backwards. I highly reccommend this one. It's original, inventive and entertaining, with many amazing elements and no small dose of humor. Check it out, if you can find it.

Booking through...err...Saturday

Before the panel this week:

Quick! It’s an emergency! You just got an urgent call about a family emergency and had to rush to the airport with barely time to grab your wallet and your passport. But now, you’re stuck at the airport with nothing to read. What do you do??

And, no, you did NOT have time to grab your bookbag, or the book next to your bed. You were . . . grocery shopping when you got the call and have nothing with you but your wallet and your passport (which you fortuitously brought with you in case they asked for ID in the ethnic food aisle). This is hypothetical, remember….

I kind of don't get this question...wouldn't nearly everyone just go to the airport bookstore and pick something up? Hell, I've done that even when I'm packing a perfectly adequate selection. I'm hoping to never have to face this, at any rate, as I plan to pick a book fairly soon and designate it my "emergency book" to keep in my car. You know, in case I plant my car in a ditch and have to wait for Triple A to winch me out (happened!), or wind up with a long wait for an appointment somewhere (happened too), or wind up staying over somewhere when I didn't plan to (also happened, although that night turned out to be pretty interesting without a book, but anyway). The only hang-up is which book to designate. I'm leaning towards
On the Road by Kerouac, as I'm not terribly likely anymore to need it inside, but still like it a lot. Do any of you have an emergency book, and what is it?

A TBR Vanquished and a decision made

The decision in question? I do like Tom Perrotta. I had found his previous books to be uneven at best. While I had absoultely loved Little Children, Joe College didn't do much of anything for me.

His newest book, The Abstinence Teacher, was terrific. It's smart and funny, and a good critique of the evangelistic movement without being too judgemental or preachy. The central figures in the book are both abstaining from sex, although neither really by choice. Ruth is the Abstinence Teacher in question, and has been divorced (and celibate) for two years. She landed in hot water with the administration after a student baited her about oral sex in class and she was amoral enough to admit that "some people like it." The student was a member of an evangelical church in town and used the comment to cause a huge uproar, resulting in the institution of an abstinence-only sex-ed "curriculum."

Tim is not actually her adversary in all of this, but represents another side of the story. He is, himself, a member of this evangelical church. He's also a former addict who struggles daily with the desire to drink and do drugs again. He misses the wild times, the women, the rock bands he used to play in, the card games, all that stuff. He also misses his ex-wife, who's moved on, and their daughter, who he only gets to see once a week. He married a younger Christian woman who doesn't turn him on the way his ex-wife used to, causing real problems throughout the relationship. A bright spot in his life is coaching his daughter's soccer team. Ruth's daughter plays for the same team, and their lives collide when Ruth catches him leading the girls in prayer after a particularly emotional game.

Unlike the other three Perrotta books I read, this one ends on a hopeful note. There's plenty of sorrow throughout the book: Ruth's palpable loneliness, Tim's feeling of being lost, the pain he causes others, the life that's slipping away from Ruth. There's also some very funny moments. I particularly liked the part where Ruth got sent for a "refresher" in the Wise Choices For Teens program. I definitely recommend this one, especially if you feel the way I do about things like abstinence-only "education" (seriously, remember how well the "Just Say No" campaign worked for drug addiction? see how no one does drugs anymore?) and the way the Christian Right has taken over this country. Get it if you can: it took me several tries at Central before I found it in.

The Unluckiest Man in Upstate New York

The last time I went to the library, I was on a nonfiction tear. After the haul of lackluster novels, I thought I'd try some nonfiction. Then I didn't. I got about a quarter of the way into a book on the Black Dahlia murder and never picked it back up, or any of the other books. While my library sends me increasingly angry emails ("Please return the following at once!") I've been reading an old favorite, Nobody's Fool by Richard Russo.

I first read this book in graduate school and have since come to believe that I've located all of the inspirations in Upstate New York for the fictional upstate New York town of Bath, where this book is set. The geographic location of it -- about a half hour north of Albany near the Northway, in proximity to a wealthier town -- would put it where Ballston Spa is located, its wealthy, tourist-destination sister city being Saratoga Springs. Yet, I think the idea of the economically depressed former tourist magnate came from the haunting town of Sharon Springs further west, with its large, palatial, abandoned mineral bath hotels (I also think some of the inspiration for Disney's Tower of Terror came from here, too). Finally, I think the inspiration for the subplot about the proposed amuseument park came from the expansion and rebranding of the Great Escape in Lake George.

Knowing all of these places fairly well makes me feel an intimate connection with the story, but Russo's characters are so terrific that you can't help but feel that anyway. He has a knack for making them feel both ordinary and extraordinary. They're not "colorful" in a manufactured way, but they seem like real people with complexities, eccentricities, pasts, hopes and dreams. This is a holiday story, starting on the day before Thanksgiving and wrapping up around New Year's. It chronicles the life of Sully -- Don Sullivan, mid-50s, long-divorced, in a long-term affair, renting a flat from his eighth-grade English teacher and working under the table for a local construction magnate and tomcat.

Sully is, at heart, a lone wolf, who's drifted through life largely without strings. That's his own position, and the surface evidence seems to support it. He owns nothing but a beat-up pickup truck. He has no profession. He's been having an affair with the same woman for twenty years, but she's not really his. He has a son from his marriage, but he's not close to him. Yet, the more you read, the more you see how connected he is to everyone in town, and even to the poeple in his own life. By the end of the book, he begins to see this too. You also get glimpses into his past that explain his aggressive avoidance of ties.

This is really Sully's story, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the other principal in this story. Sully's landlady, Miss Beryl, was Jessica Tandy's last role in the film version and a moving character in the book. She's probably in her late eighties, and few fiction writers seem to want to take on writing from the point of view of an elderly character (this book is written from an omniscient point of view). Russo handles it deftly. Miss Beryl struggles with her own mortality and her increasing physical limitations. She struggles with her feelings about her grown son, and whether they represent more of an accurate assessment or are a harbinger of failing faculties. She struggles with her conflicting desires to remain a part of society and her disgust with that same society after having seen a lifetime of it. Empire Falls gets more attention, but this is far and away my favorite Richard Russo book.

Workin' 9 to 5

Work. It's something we all do, or are forced to endure. Pull up any user-driven site on the web, and you'll find it rife with frustrations (mainly petty) about work. From the notes about people stealing yogurt and staplers on passiveaggressivenotes.com to the often more serious gripes about unethical and even illegal behavior that can be found on the Craigslist job forum, they're everywhere.

I used to frequent the Craigslist JoFo, even when I wasn't looking. I realize that this makes me sound like a total douchebag, but I have a sort of sociological interest in working and people's attitudes towards their jobs and co-workers. Some of my favorite books deal with work. There's Studs Terkel's fascinating and fabulous Working (all the more interesting for being over 30 years old and containing interviews with many people whose occupations no longer exist or have changed beyond all recognition). There's the "memoir of a moran" The Working Stiff's Manifesto by Iain Levinson, which is still entertaining despite his refusal to learn. Add to these the novel by Joshua Ferris, And Then We Came To The End.

This book is set in a failing Chicago advertising agency during the late nineties and the first part of this decade. It's about office politics and intrigues in the face of layoffs and impending insolvency. The author uses an interesting device: he writes in the first person plural. We do this, we think that. The book contains an interview with him, in which he explains that his inspiration from this was derived from the new "corporate we." I can relate to that: I've often responded to emails from potential volunteers and talked about how excited "we" were to hear of their interest in "our" organization, and "we" would love their help, and "we" look forward to meeting them. And I think, what the fuck, do I have a mouse in my pocket? Number One, I'm the only who even knows of this person's interest, and number two, I can't honestly think of one co-worker who also may give a shit about it. But I continue to do it.

The "we" also gets at the peculiar group-think that often occurs in offices. At one point in the novel, all of the "core group" in the office becomes convinced that their boss has breast cancer, despite the total lack of evidence. They even spend an entire workday trying unsuccessfully to source the rumor. Yet, they are so convinced that one of them confronts her. It's an effective, well-done device. The only other instance I can think of where such a thing worked so well was in Jay McInerney's Bright Lights, Big City which was written in the second person: You do this, you do that. But that's a post for another day.

The book is funny, but gets at a lot of truths about the modern work environment. The petty power struggles. The ridiculous rules and mores, the little attempts to rebel at them, and the consequences of them. This book has received a lot of critical acclaim, and I agree that it's worth checking out.

Death Takes a Holiday. Library Diva Takes a Holiday. Results below.

OK, so I didn't REALLY take a holiday. I've been right here, working six-day weeks and late nights trying to get the new exhibits up and devoting most of my spare time to doing laundry, paying bills and playing World of Warcraft (level 55 now, bitches!!!). But somewhere in there, I found some time to visit my favorite library and pick some stuff up. I'd heard good things about Christopher Moore, so I got A Dirty Job.

I finished it late last night without ever really connecting to it. File this under "It's not you, it's me:" when you read half a chapter a day, right before bed or while you're standing at Office Max AGAIN waiting for them to finish your large format copies because your wranglings with the large format printer that everyone insists actually works continue to be unsuccessful, it doesn't really make for a comprehensive reading experience. I'm starting to understand why many smart executives go for such trashy books: it's because they're easy. Who knows, amybe that explains the proliferation of reality TV, too: it's for people who've been thinking all day and just want to relax, dammit. But anyway, I digress.

A Dirty Job is the tale of Charlie Asher, a regular joe who runs a secondhand shop. He loses his wife to childbirth, but right before she dies, he catches someone in her hospital room stealing a CD he'd brought her. Turns out, that person was a Death Merchant, who picks up soul vessels from those who are dying or recently deceased, and makes sure they get into the right hands. And now Charlie's one too. You can learn all this from reading the dust jacket, so I didn't really give away much of anything, but I have to say that the exposition on all of this was a little too long. For about sixty pages, Charlie couldn't figure out why all the stuff in his shop was glowing, why people kept bringing him things and then dropping dead the next day, why none of the pets he bought his baby daughter survived, and you're yelling all along: IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE DEATH! This probably wasn't Moore's fault: he had no idea how this novel would be marketed when he wrote it, after all, and probably very little control over the decision.

Premise fiction is hard to get right. At times, the premise here overwhelmed the story. But overall, it wasn't bad. There is a lot of humor in the book, for being all about death and all. There's a lot of outright goofiness too: his daughter has the ability to kill with a word, that word of choice being "kitty"; a fellow Death Merchant is a seven-foot tall black dude named Minty Fresh; stuff like that. Like I said, I was kinda "meh" about the book. I know there are a lot of real Christopher Moore fans out there and I can see why, but I have no strong feelings one way or the other after reading this. I would try another, but wouldn't rush to do so.