Book Report: Scar Culture

Scar Culture
by Toni Davidson

From the back cover:
With the power of the spoken word and the authenticity of a research document, Scar Culture follows the lives of Click, Fright, and their dysfunctional therapist Sad. Using experimental techniques, Sad tries to bring Click and Fright out of the stupor to which they have succumbed from childhood abuse. Tempering the story with the darkest humor, Toni Davidson makes us confront the meaning of being human in this challenge to psychotherapy.


First Paragraph:

Click

I heard the groans first, 17 whistling, chest groans, the familiar rumble of my father's tones, seeping out the cracks in the wooden slats of the hut. I nursed my slight injuries from the fall--grazed skin on my arms and legs, a deeper bruise on my back where my t-shirt had been torn and inadvertently camouflaged and a throbbing head from numerous root thuds--but the grazes and bruises were nothing, I had the resilience of expectation, an incredible, believable shield that was such a strong armour.
Then.




This book is split into 5 parts: Click's story, Fright's story, Sad's story, then the planning and execution of Sad's controversial and experimental form of therapy. Each character's view point is vastly different and unique, which Davidson made excellent use of later on.

The first story is of Click, a boy living in a caravan with his sex-driven and obsessively-compulsively clean mother and his erratic-behaved father, who is suffering the end-phase of some sort of head tumor. Though neither parent is outwardly physically hurtful to Click, the environment itself along with their odd behaviors is certainly enough to screw up his childhood. Click has distanced himself by inventing a 'head camera', with which he takes pictures with his mind during climatic moments of his fear. And when his mother gets him his first and only gift--a real camera--both are used in capturing random moments of Click's life. His story ends after his mother, having enough of her husband's bizzare outbursts, leaves and soon thereafter, the child services agency arrives to separate Click and his father.

Fright's story is much less confusing and much more heartbreaking--the type of story you would expect when dealing with child abuse. Fright and his brother Jake live in an apartment with their mother and violent father. The boys' only source of kindness comes from their mother, and Fright's memories of her are strong. After she is killed by their father, his violence is unleashed and the boys can rely only on each other. Fright looks up to Jake as his older, smarter brother--but Jake's streak of rebellion and protectiveness make him the target for their father's abuse. Before long, the apartment is tranformed into a sort of refuge for drug addicts and perverts, and the boys are secluded to a small room behind a flowered curtain--which they are warned never to go through. After a particularly brutal beating, curiosity gets the best of Fright and with Jake unconscious, enters his father's dark domain. Rape is implied. Fright's story ends when his father drives both boys out to the country, beats them up, then leaves with Jake and Fright is abandoned.

With Sad's adult character comes an adult voice--which is a welcome but less emotional change after becoming accustomed to the boys' thoughts and speech. Sad is a somewhat pretentious therapist, who disdains his fellows at the 'hospital' he works for because they are afraid to break rules, afraid to think outside the box. He views the hospital as a sort of mill that receives damaged people, patches a band-aid over them, and kicks them out again without ever really helping people or getting to the route of their problems. But while his initial motives may be good, Sad is pretty messed up himself. Since childhood, he's been studying the sexual development of himself, his friends, his sister. He kept textbooks instead of porn, and has seen a few therapists himself but even at such a young age, manipulated them. It is slowly revealed that all through his childhood, he tormented his sister just short of actually assaulting her--but she apparently was a willing subject to his studies. And now, they live together and are, in fact, incestuous.

One day, a fellow specialist in 'inter-family sex' contacts Sad from abroad, with grand fantasies of turning the psychology field upside down. He has come in contact with a seemingly-mute boy and wants to do whatever necessary to 'correct' the boy. He urges Sad to follow in his footsteps, to make a name for himself, to stop droning away his life and career and make a difference. Soon thereafter, Sad is informed of two highly disturbed boys that have come into treatment at his hospital, but that no one can make any amount of headway with. These, Sad decides, are the oppurtunities he has been waiting for.

What follows is an ever-increasingly disturbing account of Sad's possession of Click and Fright, now each grown up and extremely unbalanced: Click has been bounced from shelter to shelter, mute and unresponsive to any sort of therapy, while Fright has just been literally scraped from his mattress in the apartment where he has been waiting years for Jake to return, covered in filth and nearly emaciated. Sad is granted access to an unused wing of the hospital, a large empty room where he divides the length into two rooms on either side of a hallway, and each boy--man--is kept in isolation and observed. Sad almost immediately discovers that inside of Click's only surviving childhood possession, a stuffed bear, are rolls of undeveloped film--further proof to Sad that all other therapists are worthless and uninterested. He gives Click a dark room, and before long, Click has hundreds of images stung about his room and is writing captions for each. Fright, on the other hand, constantly mumbles. He is given a tape recorder and Sad listens to the tapes, full of recounts of abuse and longing for Jake, and their mother. Sad does indeed make progress with each boy where no one could before, but the story takes a turn for the worse.

Sad decides to experiment on the men, by recreating their environments from childhood in hopes that the overwhelming shock of it will cause some big breakthrough. This sent a chill of foreboding down my spine and as the story neared climax, each page became harder to read then the last. Sad injects Click and Fright with a drug to keep them asleep while Sad and four other patients build a caravan around Click, and hang a flowered curtain around Fight. During this ever-increasing madness, Sad's sanity becomes even more questionable by his sister's doll-like presence, morphing in age before our very eyes. As Sad loses control, everything around him comes tumbling down as well.

The book is GOOD. It is disturbing and controversial and you'll find yourself forming opinions--strong opinions--and (hopefully) protesting. It is very visual--I felt like I'd just watched a movie. I don't think I've EVER been as involved in a story and concerned for the outcome of its characters. After being in the heads of those two boys, and then seeing what was being done to them, I can't imagine how any reader would not feel something. This book was not afraid to 'go there', and its courage is appluadable. Very strong writing, strong characters, and very real.

Just be warned--you'll be hesitant to visit the psychologist anytime soon.

Five stars out of five

Book Report: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle
by David Wroblewski

From the Jacket
Born mute, speaking only in sign, Edgar Sawtelle leads an idyllic life with his parents on their farm in remote northern Wisconsin. For generations, the Sawtelles have raised and trained a fictional breed of dog whose thoughtful companionship is epitomized by Almondine, Edgar's lifelong friend and ally. But with the unexpected return of Claude, Edgar's paternal uncle, turmoil consumes the Sawtelles' once peaceful home. When Edgar's father dies suddenly, Claude insinuates himself into the life of the farm—and into Edgar's mother's affections.

Grief-stricken and bewildered, Edgar tries to prove Claude played a role in his father's death, but his plan backfires—spectacularly. Forced to flee into the vast wilderness lying beyond the farm, Edgar comes of age in the wild, fighting for his survival and that of the three yearling dogs who follow him. But his need to face his father's murderer and his devotion to the Sawtelle dogs turn Edgar ever homeward.


First Sentence:
A Handful of Leaves
In the year 1919, Edgar's grandfather, who was born with an extra share of whimsy, bought their land and all the buildings on it from a man he'd never met, a man named Schultz, who in his turn had walked away from a logging team half a decade earlier after seeing the chains on a fully loaded timber sled let go. Twenty tons of rolling maple buried a man where Schultz had stood the moment before.


Edgar Sawtelle... where do I begin??

This book is 566 pages of dare-I-say life changing fiction. After months in the top five best-sellers list, I'm sure there are a plethora of reviews out there, better and more efficient than anything I could write. So instead, I'll focus on my impressions.

I'll admit, the size of this hard-cover edition is intimidating. This is a monster of a book and I'm reminded of the movie 'Wonder Boys', in which, near the end, Micheal Douglas's author character Grady Tripp confesses that his novel exceeded one thousand pages because he 'just couldn't stop'. In the beginning, I felt that like Grady Tripp, Wroblewski also meandered excessively, included more than was necessary regarding the history of the land and the in-depth exploration of Edgar's parents and grandparents. Edgar isn't even born until page 30. Still more chapters as he grows and learns to communicate. And all of it is lovely, stunning, moving prose.

But Edgar's father doesn't die until page 122 and a full 200 pages later, he sets out on his own. To shrink this story down to a one line summary of: "After his father's death, a mute boy runs into the woods to live with three dogs"--the blurb accompanying the title in the best-seller charts--is setting some readers up for failure. There is much, MUCH more to this story. This is a book to sink your teeth in, to become immersed in, to savor and enjoy and get lost with. The characters speak to you, the landscapes leap off the pages.

And the dogs.

Wroblewski claimed he wrote the book he wanted to read, a story about a boy and his dog. This is the book I want to write, and loved reading. The kennel of Sawtelle dogs is perhaps the heart of this entire story. These dogs have been crafted with care and respect and honesty and romance, at the same time being both just dogs and so much more.

Perfection is this:

This will be his earliest memory.

Red lights, morning light. High ceiling canted overhead. Lazy click of toenails on wood. Between the honey-colored slats of the crib a whiskery muzzle slides forward until its cheeks pull back and a row of dainty front teeth bare themselves in a ridiculous grin.
The nose quivers. The velvet snout dimples.
All the house is quiet. Be still. Stay still.
Fine, dark muzzle fur. Black nose, leather of lacework creases, comma of nostrils flexing with each breath. A breeze sushes up the field and pillows the curtains inward. The apple tree near the kitchen window caresses the house with a tick-tickety-tick-tick. As slowly as he can, he exhales, feigning sleep, but despite himself his breath hitches. At once, the muzzle knows he is awake. It snorts. Angles left and right. Withdraws. Outside the crib, Almondine's forequarters appear. Her head is reared back, her ears cocked forward.
A cherry-brindled eye peers back at him.
Whoosh of her tail.
Be still. Stay still.
The muzzle comes hunting again, tunnels beneath his blanket, below the farmers and pigs and chicks and cows dyed into that cotton world. His hand rises on fingers and spider-walks across the surprised farmyard residents to challenge the intruder. It becomes a bird, hovering before their eyes. Thumb and index fingers squeeze the crinkled black nose. The pink of her tongue darts out but the bird flies away before Almondine can lick it. Her tail is switching harder now. Her body sways, her breath envelopes him. He tugs the blackest whisker on her chin and this time her tongue catches the palm of his hand ever so slightly. He pitches to his side, rubs his hand across the blanket, blows a breath in her face. Her ears flick back. She stomps a foot. He blows again and she withdraws and bows and woofs, low in her chest, quiet and deep, the boom of an uncontainable heartbeat. Hearing it, he forgets and presses his face against the rails to see her, all of her, take her inside him with his eyes, and before he can move, she smears her tongue across his nose and forehead! He claps a hand to her face but it's too late--she's away, spinning, biting her tail, dancing in the moted sunlight that spills through the window glass.

My heart hurts when I read this passage, hurts with fondness and love and echoes of my own childhood memories, growing up in a family where dogs were integral and natural. Words cannot describe the power of this book... the total immersion as the words draw you in and swirl around you, the images that are so real you'll swear you've watched a movie. But better. Way better.

Edgar Sawtelle is an experience. It wouldn't surprise me if a movie follows, and while I will probably watch it, I know right now that it won't measure up. There is no way to capture all the subtleties, and to try--to bludgeon these nuances into obviousness, or to try and hack away the backstory or filler scenes--would destroy the very essence of Edgar Sawtelle. This book is a masterpiece, a complete world that will linger long after the cover is closed.

(And all that stuff I said before, about the seemingly needless and excessive backstory? Without it, the later events wouldn't be nearly as powerful.)

Five strong stars out of five

Book Report: Electric God

Electric God
by Catherine Ryan Hyde

Book Description:
Hayden Reese once had it all: a wife he loved completely, a daughter he adored, and a son on the way. And then, little by little, his life came undone.
When his son died at birth, the anger Hayden had been supressing ever since the accidental death of his brother could no longer be contained. Little by little, the rage against life and God cost him his marriage, his family and his freedom.
As Electric God begins, Hayden, newly released from jail, is living a marginal life in a remote California town. He has just buried his dog--the thing he loved most in the world--and now finds that he is losing Laurel, the only person with whom he's had a relationship in years. It seems that God is not quite through with him.
But when a figure from his past turns up, Hayden is forced to re-visit and re-evaluate his life. Perhaps at last he might reach an understanding as to why he has been tested so harshly by this seemingly cavalier God.

First paragraph:
Hayden Resse picked his way on foot in the dark, straight uphill into national forest territory, his Jenny dangling heavy on his right shoulder. Still supple she felt, and almost warm. His only little bit of comfort.
In his left hand, the shovel.


This story opens in present-day and introduces Hayden Reese, a quiet cowboy-type man of 50 who is living in a tiny shack on the outskirts of a small town. But despite his normally tame demeanor, Hayden is a man struggling to contain violent outbursts and unreconciled childhood pain. His girlfriend, Laurel, has just gone back to her husband and in typical male fashion, the two men butt heads (fight) when they're brought together. But when Laurel's daughter disappears with her teenaged boyfriend, it is Hayden that Laurel runs to to bring her back. In true chivalrousness, Hayden drives a great distance to retrieve Peg and once he finds her, gets tied up in a rescue operation more dangerous than any of them imagined. Violence once again escapes him, only this time to his advantage. He and Peg return safely but now Peg has developed a case of hero worship and becomes delusional about their relationship. When Laurel's husband discovers the goings on between Hayden and the rest of his family, he puts a stop to it all with a shotgun.

The middle third of this book takes the reader back in time, to Hayden's childhood. It's backstory that reveals the boy behind the stoic facade. Hayden and his little brother Daniel are growing up in a small town, under the emotionally-distant and somewhat cruel disciplinary methods of their father.

"Where's Daniel?"
"I don't know, sir. I haven't seen him since Bible studies."
"You don't know."
"No sir."
"I ask you where your brother is and you just don't know."
"No sir. Sorry."
Hayden stood on the boards of the front porch, eyes trained down to the faded brown paint. His father stood in the doorway, blocking him, one massive shoulder leaning on the door frame. Unrolling a pack of Camels from the short sleeve of his crisply starched white shirt, he shook one filterless cigarette out, lit it slowly with a cardboard match, cupping his hands around the flame. He towered above Hayden while he waited.

Daniel is their father's favorite, and Hayden never can seem to measure up. He is in charge of monitoring Daniel, making sure the younger boy stays out of trouble--to a degree that interferes with Hayden's own personal life. When he gets a shot at a real date, Hayden decides that just this once, Daniel will be okay on his own--a fatal mistake that ruins both their lives. The guilt festers inside of Hayden as he ages, even indirectly affecting his marriage many years later. When Hayden finds his teenage daughter abandoned in the city by her boyfriend after she denied him sex, Hayden snaps. He tracks the boy down at school and the ensuing attack lands him in jail.

The third section of this book returns us to the present day, when Hayden awakes from a coma against the odds, and begins a long journey of recovery. His daughter has returned while he was unconscious, and with her all the old unhealed issues from the past.

The writing is pretty and vivid, (The Arabians ran like they'd just been waiting for an excuse. They threw their heads high and raised their tails into flags, and now and then the broke gait, down into a long, extended trot that covered a remarkable amount of ground.) and displays the flat states and small towns in all their bleak glory. Hayden's personal growth does not come easy, but neither does he come off as helpless or feminine--which pleased me greatly as the story is written by a woman author. Hayden is a ruff and rugged hero, full of inner torment, physical pain, and very strong moral codes.

"There are two different kinds of leaders, my friend. Two different ways to lead. Nobody really knows which kind they are until they're in battle and pinned down, and it's clear there will be losses. Say you're in battle and you have five men under you. And you care for them all. You want that no one should be lost. But you find you have to sacrifice one of your men."
"No good leader sacrifices one of his men."
"That might not be true. Without that sacrifice maybe everyone will die. That man and the others as well. Then what?"
"Nobody should be sacrificed."

He struggles to accept change, and is stubborn, and is at once both the protector and in need of protecting. I enjoyed his character and the moral issues that were presented and worked through--having to use brains instead of brawn, and learning to trust and share himself.

"It's such a mess."
"What is?"
"My chest. I don't even like to look at it myself."
"Can I see?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. You always wanted to keep things from me. Anything you thought I wouldn't like about you. You always wanted to spare me your messes. But it's part of what always kept us apart from each other, I think."
"We weren't always apart from each other."
"In some ways we were."

And the biggest lesson of all:

"Think you can ever forgive me for that?"
"I know I couldn't have at the time. But we're a lot older now. We've had a lot of time to think."
"I'm not sure you can think your way through forgiveness."

Four out of five stars for characterization, transformation, emotion and tone

Book Report: Midget

Midget
By Tim Bowler

Book Description:
A unique and unnerving story about Midget - fifteen years old, three feet tall, and target of his older brother's bullying and cruelty. Midget dreams of buying a boat and sailing away, but people say it'll take a miracle for that to happen. Midget knows miracles can happen, but sometimes they hurt people who get in the way . . .

First paragraph:

The voice hissed into his ear.
"So you managed to sneak out again. And have another little look at what you know you can't have. What a pointless exercise."
There was no need to turn to know who it was. No need to try and run.
No point in running.


On my paperback copy of Midget, there is no book description, only two reviews. The first is from The Horn Book: 'The writing is piercingly direct in this psychological thriller about a physically handicapped boy who, after years of stealth and sadistic abuse by his older brother, finally wreaks his revenge...'

Those four hints had me tossing onto my pile immediately, without further question. After I got it home, I looked at the filing categories and it is listed under: 1. Physically handicapped--fiction. 2. Brothers--fiction. 3. Emotional problems--fiction.

Score.

Midget is indeed about an undersized teenager, though his problems go far beyond his height. Midget (a derogatory nickname that he no longer bothers to deny) also cannot talk, and suffers from some type of seizure and blackout, most often brought on by the presence of his older brother, Seb. Seb is perhaps Midget's biggest problem, with stealthy night attacks and physical abuse and relentless, utterly cruel taunting. The boy's father is unaware of Seb's dark side--a blind optimistic who only sees a devoted, loving older brother and a moody, angry handicapped timebomb. Midget and Seb's mother died giving birth to Midget, and this is a great source of hatred for Seb, who openly vows to get 'revenge' on Midget. The only joy Midget has in his life is the local marina, where he goes to sit and look at the boats and watch the water.

When Midget starts pining for a small sailboat that appears to have been abandoned, half-finished, Seb uses it as fodder for his teasing. However, the foreman of the boatyard notices, and after a time invites Midget for a closer look. The boat has not been abandoned, but is being built by Old Joesph, a rambling old man with a severe heart problem, not long for this world. Joesph has just been released from the hospital and is alive for just enough time to finish the boat and have a conversation with Midget--talking to Midget in a way no one else will, as if he is just a normal boy. Entranced by this crazy old man, Midget quickly forms a bond with the man, and takes his words to heart.

"Oh, I know." The old man held up a gnarled finger, splotched with yellow paint. "You're thinkin' miracles 'as got to be on the outside. Well, they is, eventually. But they start inside. You build 'em in your boatyard--" He tapped his head again. "You see 'em good, want 'em good, believe in 'em good." The ancient face seemed to light up. "Then you launch your miracle boats down the slipway an' they sail into your life."

It is through this advice that Midget discovers something within himself--the power to make things happen. With concentration, he forms a picture in his mind and concentrates on every detail, and when it is complete, it plays out in real life. They are his miracles, and they are the start of something big.

However, the next day, Midget goes to visit Joesph and arrives just in time for some final words and a last breath. Midget feels the loss profoundly.

But Old Joesph, perhaps not as crazy as everyone thought he was, leaves Midget the boat in his hastily-written will. It is a miracle--what Midget has been praying for--and finally, he has a bit of freedom. They are a family of boaters, and no longer will Seb be the golden child of the marina. Together with the Miracle Man (perhaps the only 'male' boat), Midget proves himself an even better boater than his brother.

Between the increasing hostility from Seb, and the increasing power of his mental power, things only get worse for Midget and the climax is tense and cliffy, as there is no easy way out for Midget. And shouldn't all protags be pushed to the limits?

"Remember, some folk are real good at miracles. They can make 'em happen right away." The eyes darkened like wind over the sea. "But there's good miracles an' bad miracles. So make sure the Skipper's 'appy with what you want."

Midget stared down, trying not to believe what was happening. But the voice was growing weaker and he knew it would not be long.
"If you want a bad miracle... 'an you see it good... 'an you believe in it good--then you'll get it. Only somethin' else comes with it."
The old man took a long, slow breath.
"Evil comes with it."

Three and a half stars out of Five

Book Report: The Good Thief

The Good Thief
By Hannah Tinti

Book Description:
Twelve-year-old Ren is missing his left hand. How it was lost is a mystery that Ren has been trying to solve his entire life, as well as who his parents are, and why he was abandoned as an infant at Saint Anthony's Orphanage for boys. He longs for a family to call his own and is terrified of the day he will be sent alone into the world.
But then a young man named Benjamin Nab appears, claiming to be Ren's long-lost brother, and his convincing tale of how Ren lost his hand and his parents persuade the monks at the orphanage to release the boy and to give Ren some hope. But is Benjamin really who he says he is? Journeying through a New England of whaling towns and meadowed farmlands, Ren is introduced to a vibrant world of hardscrabble adventure filled with outrageous scam artists, grave robbers, and petty thieves. If he stays, Ren becomes one of them. If he goes, he's lost once again. As Ren begins to find clues to his hidden parentage he comes to suspect that Benjamin not only holds the key to his future, but to his past as well.


First paragraph:
The man arrived after morning prayers. Word spread quickly that someone had come, and the boys of Saint Anthony's orphanage elbowed each other and strained to catch a glimpse as he unhitched his horse and led it to the trough for drinking. The man's face was hard to make out, his hat pulled so far down that the brim nearly touched his nose. He tied the reins to a post and then stood there, patting the horse's neck as it drank. The man waited, and the boys watched, and when the mare finally lifted her head, they saw the man lean forward, stroke the animal's nose, and kiss her. Then he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, removed his hat, and made his way across the yard to the monastery.


I saw this book 'blogged' in the Kansas City Star and mentioned to mom that it sounded good. Couple weeks later, it showed up in the mail. *grin*

For so long, I've *avoided* female authors because I thought 'they' all only wrote about female protags. Even if a title sounded good, I wouldn't even pick it up if a woman was the author. This book taught me a lesson. Hannah Tinti is a wonderful writer and an entrancing story-teller. I loved every bit of this crazy-charactered, completely unique story.

First off, I will remember this book for its characters. The protag is Ren, a one-handed twelve year old orphan with a bit of a temper, and a narrow mind. While his overall arch is to go from lonely and wanting to independent and confident, the road there is paved with richness and imagery. His progression is very nicely illustrated through relationships with others, and making his own hard decisions. He comes to terms with himself slowly and naturally, and things don't work out perfectly. The story stays organic to itself.

But Ren is certainly not the only memorable character. Each person in this story is unique and lovable for (or despite) their flaws. Benjamin--while not the pure-intentioned 'big brother' he presents himself as--is heart-stealing. He's a thief, but good-hearted. His cleverness is his undoing, always trying to 'get ahead' with less-than-moral schemes while maintaining a genuine caring for those around him. Despite his disappointment at the lies, Ren quickly takes to Benjamin--as did I.

Benjamin Nab put his hands on his hips and surveyed the land as if it all belonged to him. Then he turned back to the boy. "Let's have another look at you."
Ren stood perfectly still as the man walked around him. Benjamin Nab crouched down, then lifted the boy's arm and examined the end of the wrist where the skin was sewn over. Ren waited for the usual signs of discomfort or shock. But Benjamin Nab's face held none of these things. He raised his eyebrows.
"Well," he said, "you have another one, don't you?"

Benjamin has a side-kick, the somewhat shady ex-schoolteacher, Tom, who spends his free time and money in a bottle. Benjamin and Tom are long-time friends, and this relationship is portrayed naturally with nick-names and bickering and concern for one another. As long as the two are together, they will be okay--exploiting Ren's 'misfortunes'--and for the first time Ren feels like part of something.

After having exhausted all their schemes and tricks, the three move to a new town in a stolen wagon (drawn by the mare from the first paragraph, also stolen, of course). It is here that the brass, spunky, nearly-deaf Mrs. Sands is introduced.

They knocked for some time before a woman came to answer. She was taller than Benjamin by at least a head and had broad shoulders, thick arms, and a very long, thin neck. Her face was middle-aged, with bright, quick eyes and a nose with one nostril larger than the other. Her hair was tucked away into a cap and she wore a coarse apron covering a brown dress. A ring of keys was tied to a thick leather belt around her waist.
"WHAT ARE YOU KNOCKING FOR?" she shouted.
"We're looking for a room," said Benjamin.
"I DON'T OPEN THE PLACE TO STRANGERS."
"My name is Benjamin Nab." He held out his hand, using his smile. "There, you see, I'm no longer a stranger."

She rents the three a room and cooks meals for them, and Ren takes to her and her motherly (albeit quirky) ways quickly. He discovers her brother, a midget who lives on the roof and comes down the chimney at night for dinner. He meets the four mouse-trap girls, four teenagers who work at the nearby mouse-trap factory and who stop by each morning for something to eat. And during a grave-robbing mission with Benjamin and Tom, Ren meets Dolly:

The horse began to shuffle. She gave a small kick with her legs that banged against the wood, and Ren suddenly found his voice again. Tom stumbled out of the churchyard and clapped his hand over the boy's mouth, but Ren continued screaming straight through Tom's fingers.
"It's alright," said Benjamin. "Don't move," he said.
In the wagon was a dead man, sitting up with his eyes open. The burlap hung like a hood around his shoulders. His head was square and short and dirty. He was bald.
"I'm hungry," said the dead man. There was mud on his lips.

The Good Thief is a magical story, rich with humor and originality and new people. Hanna walks the line between fantasy and real-world strangeness, and takes the third act to an even higher level with the introduction of some truly nasty antagonists. This story is a wild ride and thoroughly enjoyable and vivid. I will remember this story, and its characters, forever.

Five out of five stars!

Book Report: Timbuktu

Timbuktu
By Paul Auster

Book Description:
Meet Mr. Bones, the canine hero of Paul Auster's remarkable new novel, Timbuktu. Mr. Bones is the sidekick and confidant of Willy G. Christmas, the brilliant, troubled, and altogether original poet-saint from Brooklyn. Like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza before them, they sally forth on a last great adventure, heading for Baltimore, Maryland in search of Willy's high school teacher, Bea Swanson. Years have passed since Willy last saw his beloved mentor, who knew him in his previous incarnation as William Gurevitch, the son of Polish war refugees. But is Mrs. Swanson still alive? And if she isn't, what will prevent Willy from vanishing into that other world known as Timbuktu?

Mr. Bones is our witness. Although he walks on four legs and cannot speak, he can think, and out of his thoughts Auster has spun one of the richest, most compelling tales in recent American fiction. By turns comic, poignant, and tragic, Timbuktu is above all a love story. Written with a scintillating verbal energy, it takes us into the heart of a singularly pure and passionate character, an unforgettable dog who has much to teach us about our own humanity.

First sentences:
Mr. Bones knew Willy wasn't long for this world. The cough had been inside him for over six months, and by now there wasn't a chance in hell that he would ever get rid of it. Slowly and inexorably, without once taking a turn for the better, the thing had assumed a life of its own, advancing from a faint, phlegm-filled rattle in the lungs on February third to the wheezy sputum-jigs and gobby convulsions of high summer.


Timbuktu is a relatively short story that, while taking a bit of time to get started, leaves a fairly deep impression after it's over. While the story is told through a dog's point of view, don't be fooled into thinking this is a simple-minded story. Mr. Bones is (perhaps as all dogs) insightful and intuitive and proves to be a compassionate and honest narrator. He loves his owner deeply and much of the first third of this book is getting to know Willy, the self-appointed Saint of Brooklyn. Mr. Bones tells us what he knows of Willy through memories, both his own and the stories of Willy's mother that date back to Willy's childhood. And while Willy unfolds into a well-intentioned character the reader can certainly feel sympathy for, I felt as if too much time was devoted to a character who dies so soon.

But Willy was all that Mr. Bones had ever known, and the sick man's passing is a profound event. Alone for the first time ever, Mr. Bones must now fend for himself. He heads off in an unknown direction and quickly becomes hungry and weary. After misjudging a group of violent teenaged boys, Mr. Bones befriends the one good-hearted boy from the lot. Henry is an outcast himself, and sneaks Mr. Bones home to live in a cardboard box behind his home. With unfailing devotion, Henry sneaks past his father to deliver food to Mr. Bones, and the two spend much time together in the last days of summer.

Then as all good things must, it comes to an end. Henry's father discovers the dog and becomes infuriated and violent. Henry must send Mr. Bones on his way.

Mr. Bones had only the dimmest idea of what Henry was talking about. The boy was sobbing too hard for his words to be understood, but as the rush of chopped-off sllyables and stuttered phrases continued, it became increasingly clear that this outburst was more than just a passing mood. Something was wrong, and while Mr. Bones could scarcely imagine what that thing was Henry's sadness was beginning to have an effect on him, and within a matter of minutes he had taken on the boy's sadness as his own. Such is the way with dogs.

Once more, Mr. Bones is on his own. He travels north, simply because it feels right, and soon the city turns to fields and Mr. Bones stumbles across a house, where he finds two small children playing outside as their mother tends the plants. Having learned that most people are hostile toward stray dogs, Mr. Bones announces himself delicately and with a sort of knowing calmness.

"My buddy," Tiger said, tightening his grip even more, and although Mr. Bones was gratified to discover that he wasn't about to be devoured by a wild beast, the pressure on his throat was becoming severe enough to make him squirm now. The boy might not have been a real tiger, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. In his own little way, he was more of an animal than Mr. Bones was.
Fortunately, the woman arrived just then and grabbed hold of the boy's arm, pulling him off Mr. Bones before more damage could be done. "Careful, Tiger," she said. "We don't know if he's a nice dog or not."
"Oh, he's nice," the girl said, gently patting Mr. Bones on his crown. "All you have to do is look into his eyes. He's real nice, Mama. I'd say he's about the nicest dog I've ever seen."

Mr. Bones slowly adjusts to this new life--a proper life, some would say--of living on a chain, sleeping in a well-kept dog house, keeping watch over the yard and its wildlife, and stealing in the house when Polly, wife and mother, would sneak him in during her days alone while the kids were at school and her husband at work. Mr. Bones becomes part of the family, survives neutering, and shares a special part of Polly's life.

But then Christmas rolls around and the family leaves Mr. Bones at a kennel before going on vacation. Mr. Bones does not understand, does not eat, and quickly becomes sick. With the last of his strength, he escapes from the kennel as the owners are loading him up to take him to the vet, and Mr. Bones sets out once again--this time to find his family.

The ending is anything but happy.

I felt cheated, and a bit confused, and of course sad. Was this really the only possible ending? Was Mr. Bones's doom spelled out all along, and I missed it? Had he really survived everything before in vain? Maybe it's because the protag is a dog, but this book as hit a sore spot and leaves an ache. Too bad such an endearing character is brought to such an end.

Three out of five stars for 'getting dogs', eliciting reader emotion, and detail

Book Report: An Arsonist's Guide to Writer's Homes in New England

An Arsonist's Guide to Writer's Homes in New England
By Brock Clarke

Book Description:
As a teenager, it was never Sam Pulsifer's intention to torch an American landmark, and he certainly never planned to kill two people in the blaze. To this day, he still wonders why that young couple was upstairs in bed in the Emily Dickinson House after hours.

After serving ten years in prison for his crime, Sam is determined to put the past behind him. He finishes college, begins a career, falls in love, gets married, has two adorable kids, and buys a home. His low-profile life is chugging along quite nicely until the past comes crashing through his front door.

As the homes of Robert Frost, Edith Wharton, Herman Melville, and Nathaniel Hawthorne, and even a replica of Henry David Thoreau's cabin at Walden Pond, go up in smoke, Sam becomes the number one suspect. Finding the real culprit is the only way to clear his name—but sometimes there's a terrible price to pay for the truth.

First sentence:
I, Sam Pulsifer, am the man who accidentally burned down the Emily Dickinson house in Amherst, Massachusetts, and who in the process killed two people, for which I spent ten years in prison and, as letters from scholars of American literature tell me, for which I will continue to pay a high price long into the not-so-sweet hereafter.


Obviously, this is book you'd have trouble reading half-asleep. Long, witty sentences dominate much of the narrative, and if you can keep up, you'll enjoy the humor. Even the title is an attention-grabber--be prepared to do some explaining if reading this in public. Clarke is an expert at sarcasm and far-fetched situations, and this odd little story turned out fairly well.

The protag is a pretty normal guy, who is just trying to get his life back on track after a huge detour. Fate, however, has sniffed him out and seems determined to send poor Sam straight back to jail. Not long after completing his sentence for the Emily Dickinson fiasco, the homes of other authors start to burn down. Suspicions rise, and Sam is desperate to clear his name. His parents have disowned him, but he crashes their house anyway after the son of the two that died in the Dickinson fire shows up on Sam's front step, wanting revenge. Soon Sam's father shares a secret--a box of letters that were addressed to Sam while he was in jail, letters of support, letters of request that he burn down other author's homes, even sighting the reasons (motives). While his wife slips away to another man and his parent's nighttime antics continue to confuse him, Sam begins his own hunt for the real New England arsonist.

Sam is the deepest of all the characters, and has a few endearing, insightful moments--that unfortunately, kicked me right out of the story as the words echoed in my head.

"What are you thinking?" Anne Marie said finally. There was a weary, sighing quality to her voice, which I took for simple human fatigue, but which might have been resignation. I wish I'd paid more attention to Anne Marie back then, but I didn't. Oh, why didn't I? Why don't we listen to the people we love? Is it because we have only so much listening in us, and so many very important things to tell ourselves?

**

When I was a boy, I would read those postcards and know exactly why my father was doing what he was doing: he was taking a stab at greatness, that is, if greatness is simply another word for doing something different from what you were already doing--or maybe greatness is the thing we want to have to that other people will want to have us, or maybe greatness is merely the grail for our unhappy, striving selves, the thing we think we need but don't and can't get anyway.


Good writing, but is lacking that intangible 'heartbeat' that makes this a truly wonderful story.
Two out of five stars

Book Report: Setting the Lawn On Fire

Setting the Lawn On Fire
By Mack Friedman

Book Description:
Setting the Lawn on Fire, the first novel by critically acclaimed writer Mack Friedman, trails its narrator through his obsessions with sex, drugs, art, and poison. Ivan, a young Jewish boy from Milwaukee, embarks on a journey of sexual discovery that leads him from Wisconsin to Alaska, Philadelphia, and Mexico through stints as a fishery worker, artist, and finally a hustler who learns to provide the blank canvas for other people’s dreams. The result is a new kind of coming-of-age story that sees passion from every angle because its protagonist is every kind of lover: the seducer and the seduced, the pornographer and the model, the hunter and the prey, the trick and the john. In the end, Setting the Lawn on Fire is also something rare—a fully realized, contemporary romance that illuminates the power of desire and the rituals of the body, the brain, and the heart that attempt to contain our passions.

First paragraph:
It's the first day of school, third grade. Where are you? Are you there? Do you remember the leaves starting to change, the breeze cooling hips under shorts? Were you looking down at your new shoes? I looked up on my way to the bus, saw a boy.

I bought this book because I thought the premise looked promising. I usually love solo-journeys of a man's self-discovery, and this looked quite interesting.

However, a month after having read it, I can not remember what it was about.

Ivan, the protag, summarizes his childhood with moments of sexual awkwardness, hinting to his future blossoming as a homosexual. His mother is physically absent (dying shortly in), and his dad is the absent mentally. Ivan deals with his confusing puberty by secretly nurturing his inappropriate fascinations: he sneaks into local libraries late at night and ferrets out reference books on male adolescence, then cuts out the pictures for his own private collection.

Then, the summer he turns twenty, Ivan moves to Alaska to work as a fisherman. He lives in a tent with a few other guys, working grueling, laborious jobs for minimum wage, often times going without work and just barely keeping themselves fed. The writing is fresh and descriptive, and the sights and smells were not hard to imagine.

But the events of this story are somewhat disjointed--or at least time has corroded my memory. Ivan's secret fetish is growing worse, and after he returns home he uses the gym locker room to pick up older men--and fails. Frustrated, he eventually places an add in the paper's back page, and is quickly contacted by a homosexual pimp, who immediately puts Ivan to work. But instead of living out his fantasies, Ivan's self-torment is only compounded and soon drugs enter the picture. The ending provides a quiet, heartbreaking moment of truth and realization in unexpected form, bringing this somewhat reckless and grandiose journey to a gentle close.

I wasn't expecting what I got, I'll say that much. This book is very liberal and unafraid, delving into one character's most private acts and thoughts, and then running with them to the end. But the writing is good--really good--and I have to admit the events on these pages are unique. Setting the Lawn On Fire is short and a quick read--which works really well for this particular story. A lot is crammed in between the covers, and, once I refreshed myself, I remembered exactly who Ivan was, the images I'd formed came trickling back one by one.

That's gotta say something.

Two and a half stars out of five