Book Report: And Even the Rats Clapped

And Even the Rats Clapped
By David Argue

One Word: Don't.

This book looked so right up my alley:

"Dean had been in therapy since he was eleven, and had been clinically diagnosed by a sherry-glassful of experts as agoraphobic, claustrophobic, scared of heights, scared of depths, scared of Johnny Depp, Johnny B Goode, Johnny Weismuller and Barbara Streisand. In fact, there was nothing he wasn't scared of--Dean was an omniphobe, and a grumpy one at that."

This book starts entertainingly enough. First sentence:
"Dean didn't want too much from existence: a day in the sun, his feet in the wet cement outside Grumann's Chinese Theater, fifteen minutes of publicity, or at least a couple of minutes of decent television to help him endure the mundane hours of his tortured existence."

We find Dean in a cab, on the ride of his life. The writing is overly dramatic very long sentences, which quickly moves from humorous to annoying.

"Dean's eyebrows looked like a seismographic read-out and his erratic mind performed tortured circus rat tricks as he tried to fathom the depth of his predicament."

I don't even understand that. What the hell is a tortured circus rat? I spent an entire two minutes trying to figure it out.

At the end of the first chapter, Dean is at last dropped off outside his apartment. The story becomes entertaining again as Dean, whose DNA structure lacks the component necessary to be recognized by sensors on automatic doors, tries to get inside the building. He tries using a cat, then a dead pigeon--all the while being laughed at by the security guard who is watching from inside. This scene was written well, and I laughed.

But then it plummets. Once inside his apartment, Dean transforms in to a duck with breasts and red high heels. I continued reading, certain that things would turn serious again when Dean suspected his anti-psychotic meds had been tampered with. But instead, the grim reaper shows up at the front door.

And then, this:
"The door chimed 'Material Girl' again, insisting he respond. Dean didn't want to answer the friggin door! But it occurred to him that if he didn't answer the door, the book stopped here. Following to a T the author's uncompromising demands, Dean tried to slow the wheel by standing still, which didn't exactly work."

Are you kidding me? Is this for real? The 'wheel', by the way, refers to a giant exercise wheel (like for mice) that Dean has in his apartment and uses as a means to calm himself.

This book makes no sense and becomes a mockery of itself. I don't know what Argue was trying to accomplish here. I've read more coherent stories written by ten year olds on fanfiction.net. I mean seriously, how did this make it to print? Argue has a wild sense of humor, and I want to love him for it, but if he continues to write novels while tripping on acid, then I'll stick with Terry Pratchett.

I've officially abandoned this book.

Book Report: Fighting Ruben Wolfe

Fighting Ruben Wolfe

By Markus Zusak

Cameron and Ruben Wolfe are brothers. Close brothers. ‘Boondock Saints’-style close. Cameron is the thinker, Ruben is the vocal one. They are perfect in all ways brothers are: they tease each other, they protect and defend each other, they love each other (though they will never say it aloud). I fell in love with them instantly.

First sentence: “The dog we’re betting on looks more like a rat.”

The story starts at the dog track, where teenaged Cameron and Ruben coerce older men to place bets for them. They are balanced, maybe slightly naïve. At home, their father has lost his job due to a work injury and can’t find another. Their mother is working overtime, and it’s showing. Their older sister works as much as she can, but her alcoholism is starting to get in the way. Their older brother has a steady job and can’t understand why their father won’t sign up for welfare. Zusak writes as Cameron, and it’s the most memorable I’ve read in a long time, probably since ‘Edgar Mint’.

“I ask the questions at home when we eat our dinner with Mum pouring out the soup, and Sarah eating it politely, and Dad eating more failure with his meal. Putting it in his mouth. Chewing it. Tasting it. Swallowing it. Digesting it. Getting used to it.”

Cameron and Ruben begin their journey as they come home from school one day, after Ruben got in a fight over their sister’s honor. A man is waiting for them in front of their gate. "Can we talk inside?" he asks.

"Well, for starters," Rube answers, "who the hell are y'?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," says the stranger. "I'm a guy who can either change your life or smack it into the ground for bein' smart."

The brothers decide to listen, and thus begins their season of self-discovery. They are drawn into the dark, seedy ‘Fight Club’-style world of underground boxing. Fifty dollars for a win, tips (if any) for a loss. They are given gloves and shorts and told their first fight is in a week. Ruben, as predicted, does well. He wins every fight, and is soon a crowd favorite. Cameron is not a winner, but he has heart. The crowd loves his tenacity. But with each fight, Ruben begins to change. He is becoming colder, more distant, and it unsettles Cameron in a familiar way. As their journey progresses, both boys struggle to figure out who they really are, and what purpose they serve.

The emotion in Zusak’s writing leaves me in awe. His fresh, poetic narrative is visually strong and so very sharp:

“My heart falls to my ankles, the van takes off, and Rube and I walk home. I kick my heart along the ground. I feel like crying, but I don’t. I wish I was Rube. I wish I was Fighting Ruben Wolfe and not the Underdog. I wish I was my brother.”

The dialect is distinctly Aussie, distinctly brothers, and the words echo from the pages.

“Hey Rube, are you awake?”

“Whatta y’ reckon? I’ve only been in here two lousy minutes.”

“It’s been longer than that.”

“It hasn’t.”

“It has, y’ miserable faggot. And tell me—what do you want, ay? Can y’ tell me that? Whatta y’ want?”

“I want you to switch the light off.”

“No way.”

“It’s only fair—I was in here first and you’re closer to the switch.”

“So what? I’m older. You should respect your elders and switch the light off yourself.”

“What a load of bloody—“

“It stays on then.”

It stays on for ten minutes, and then, take a guess. It’s me who switches it off.

“You suck,” I tell him.

“Thank you.”

I really, really enjoyed this book. It was a quick read, but it has heart. Amazon rates it as a '13 and up' book, but I don’t know if a teenager could appreciate the depth and talent within these pages. Zusak has created a true work of art, and I’m salivating at the thought of a longer novel by him.

Five our of Five stars for excellence in every field.

Book Report: The Tattoo

The Tattoo

By Chris McKinney

"A book about the sins of the fathers.' . . . A gritty, troubling book."-The Honolulu Advertiser

"The other Hawai'i, the one tourists never get to see."-Ian MacMillan

"Ken Hideyoshi is the new guy in Halawa Correctional Institute. He's tough looking, a hard case, observes his cellmate Cal-the mute tattoo artist of the prison, a wife murderer. SYN, a gang symbol, is tattooed on his hand, and he has a Japanese emblem inscribed on his left shoulder. He asks Cal for a tattoo on his back, in kanji script, of Musashi's Book of the Void.

While he is being worked on, he tells Cal his life story, a tale of hardship and abuse. Motherless, he was raised by a distant father, a Vietnam War veteran, in the impoverished hinterlands. In his teen years he hung out with the native Hawaiian gangs and was drawn into the Hawaiian-Korean underworld of strip bars and massage parlors. His ambition and proud samurai spirit seem, inevitably, to lead to his downfall."

First paragraph:

‘After breakfast, Cal was led to the doors of Module C. He took off his clothes and put his hands against the wall. He then let his hands fall and spread his ass-cheeks. After a few seconds, he turned around and faced the small, compact frame of Sergeant Miranda. He lifted his testicles. Cal watched the other guard, Officer Tavares, go through his clothes. After the routine inspection, Tavares tossed him his underwear, shirt, and pants. Cal glanced at Tavares’ huge tattoo-covered forearms. More than me, he thought.’

The Tattoo opens with an eye-opening, gritty look at life inside a high-security Hawaiian prison. Cal, the facilitator of the story, is in for murdering his wife and is now a lifer, an existence made more miserable as the ‘whipping boy’. He is beaten by both guards and inmates alike, sometimes because he is white, sometimes because of the swastika tattoo on his arm, sometimes simply because he is there. Cal’s throat has been sliced and now he can no longer talk. No one can hear him scream.

But his silence has also worked in his favor. He’s become the prison psychiatrist, never able to breach the doctor-patient trust. Willing or not, he listens to the stories of the other inmates, only able to reflect inwardly. Cal is also a master tattooist, his raw talent making up for the crude materials. It is these two traits that provide a modicum of peace and respect in his otherwise unbearable life.

This story is not about Cal, however. In the first chapter, Cal gets a new cellmate, a half-Japanese, half-Caucasian monster of a man named Ken. When Ken learns that Cal is a talented artist and a first-rate physiatrist, he removes his shirt, gives Cal an intricate design, and so begins the real story.

In The Tattoo, the past is the present and the present is italicized. Long stretches of Ken’s flashbacks dominate the story as we follow his life from an abused child through his teenage years and into adult and parent-hood. Broken only by short periods of jail life, the majority of this story takes place on the run down countryside of Hawaii.

McKinney created a raw, honest story with dialect that echoes from the pages and characters that test the reader’s comfort level. Ken’s father is a constant source of hatred and one of the most three-dimensional characters I’ve ever read:

‘Listen. You come home beat up, das ok. But next time you come home like dis and I hear you neva fight back… You gonna have to deal wit me instead of dose little fuckin’ punks at school. You see, dis is why I hard on you, even when you was smaller. Life is fuckin’ tough and you gotta be tough, too. So wheneva I seem mean to you, rememba I stay building your character. You tough you no need worry about shit. If you can eat bullets and crap thunder, goin’ show you respect. Your grandfadda taught me da same ting when I was one kid.’

This story is a disquieting journey through one man’s life as he survives on a steady diet of hate and violence. As he suffers more and more at the hands of his father, Ken begins to change. He recognizes how the hate is changing him, but he embraces it. He thrives on it. He becomes confident, maybe arrogant, and reckless. He pushes the boundaries, enjoying the thrill of the chase and the taste of blood. The Tattoo explores how Ken, a man rooted in hate and violence, walks the razor-thin line between socially acceptable and not. Can evil ever be justified?

I really enjoyed this story and its originality. I learned much about Hawaii and its native races, about different ways of living, and about how events alter a human’s perception.

Five out of Five stars for a gripping, colorful examination of the human psyche and for the details that made this unforgettable

The Goddamn Bus of Happiness

Book Report: The Goddamn Bus of Happiness

By Stephen Laszczuk

‘The novel traces the life of the main character, Mico, and his relationship with his best mate, Couper, who works in a funeral home and often scatters the excess remains along his driveway. His girlfriend Nina, stuck in an inane job at a service station, adds balance to their mad world. A narrative embedded in the subculture of street life, The Goddam Bus of Happiness reveals how three young people must address certain truths about themselves which they continuously try to avoid.

Their journey begins when Mico discovers that his sixteen year-old sister, Janey, is not as naïve as he had thought. While Janey is running away from home and in with Couper, Mico finds himself entrenched in a life consumed by beer and hazy hangovers. When Couper looses his job, he asks Mico to help him rob the funeral home. Alas, having money has tragic consequences and leads to a wake-up call of just how important life really is. The Goddamn Bus of Happiness is full of intense raw energy as the characters search to get their lives back on track, out of the gutter and back on board that ‘goddamn bus of happiness’.

LOVED this book!

First paragraph:

‘A freak deep breath swells my lungs like post-accident airbags. The dull ache in my chest sharpens to an invisible stab. I wince and swallow foul residue. Stare through an all-too-familiar haze at my parent’s front yard. Their garden gnome is still smiling, though now he’s missing an arm.’

Laszczuk had my attention from first glance. I mean, who can resist a title like that? I do love a sense of humor, and this book is full of it. The chapters are titled and in the beginning, reading almost as a collection of connected short stories. But as it picks up speed, this Bus becomes unstoppable.

Not that’s you’d want it to, of course.

Mico, the protag, is a jobless twenty eight year old who spends his days sleeping or at the local bars with Couper, his best friend. But Mico is much more than the loser he appears to be. He’s empathetic, as when he worries for his girlfriend’s chronic stomach pains, and loyal, as when he stands for his little sister when it discovered that she is the object of a local pervert’s attention. This book is the story of Mico’s self-discovery, of a character discovering what really matters, and it is just as moving as it is hilarious and raunchy. The boughts of introspection resonate loudly:

‘ The way I see it, there’s only so many fates to go around. There’s a few good ones and a few bad ones and either you get dealt one you don’t. Some people end up as rock stars, successful crayfisherman or teachers who are remembered by their students for decades. Other people end up drowning in their own soup, being trampled by runaway bull elephants or murdered by serial killers. The rest of us remain eternally unnoticed, like extras in a movie, until we waste away. Sure, I’d rather remain unnoticed than have my skull crushed by rampaging pachyderm, but that’s not the point. The point is that I don’t think I have a choice.’

Mico’s voice and his story are fresh and unique, and the entire cast of characters is real and unforgettable. ‘Bus’ is a story of both loss and discovery, and ultimately, of growth. The very personal experiences Mico goes through are fascinating but have deeper undertones, and the reader is able to take away a little something from each chapter. This is another one of the handful of books I would rescue from my burning house.

Five out of Five stars for personal, spunky narrative and character growth

I am The Cheese

Book Report: I Am the Cheese

By Robert Cormier

‘Imagine discovering that your whole life has been a fiction, your identity altered, and a new family history created. Suddenly nothing is as it once seemed; you can trust no one, maybe not even yourself. It is exactly this revelation that turns 14-year-old Adam Farmer's life upside down. As he tries to ascertain who he really is, Adam encounters a past, present, and future too horrible to contemplate. Suspense builds as the fragments of the story are assembled--a missing father, government corruption, espionage--until the shocking conclusion shatters the fragile mosaic.’

I started reading this book somewhere between Brisbane and Rockhampton, because I’d finished ‘Angel’s Rest’ and had no more books of my own. Caroline had just finished this one and handed it over, so I read it.

I enjoyed it, and loved speculating about what was happening, especially towards the end. In alternating chapters, Cormier switches between present-tense first person narrative of his young, mysterious protag, Adam, and documentary-style conversations between ‘A’ and ‘T’—Adam and a psychiatrist. Each chapter lends more understanding to Adam and his journey, both during his bike ride and his therapy sessions. It’s the slow unraveling that hooks the reader and keeps them reading, and guessing.

While some of Cormier’s descriptive phrases may be now tired and unoriginal by today’s standards (‘the wind like a snake slithering up my sleeves’), he did an outstanding job illustrating character and emotion.

‘Something hits my arm as I eat and I look down at the floor and see where the piece of popcorn has landed. Another piece arrives, barely missing the chowder. Like in school, when the wise guys threw spitballs. I don’t look at the troublemakers and I concentrate on my chowder. I blow on the chowder to cool it off. I remove my father’s package from the other chair at the table and put it on my lap. For safekeeping. I hear the popcorn guys giggle. You can tell them a mile away, the wise guys. I had recognized them as soon as I stepped into the place. They are everywhere in the world, in schools and offices, in theaters and factories, in stores and hospitals.’

The correct interpretation of this book is something to be discussed and debated, and I like that. It’s the kind of story that will offer something slightly different to each reader, and I like that too. Caroline and I talked about it and neither of us are convinced we are right, as the other’s speculations are just as plausible as our own. This book is an excellent model to learn from, both as a writer and as a person, and blends both introspection and forward mystery as no other book I’ve read.

Four out of Five stars for emotional realism and for not giving the reader all the answers

Angel's Rest

Book Report: Angel’s Rest

By Charles Davis

‘At the start of Davis's beautifully written debut, 11-year-old Charlie York leads an idyllic life in the shadow of Angel's Rest, a mountain in the Virginia Alleghenies "so high the earth's caretakers took breaks on the peaks before they came down to help those in need of God's assistance." Then, one late afternoon in 1967, Charlie's father is killed by a shotgun blast and his mother is arrested for murder. Put in the care of Lacy Albert Coe, an old black man, Charlie hears the music of Coe's many stories as he tries to understand the hate that fills the people of rural Sunnyside, Va. Charlie vacillates between wanting to escape on a raft like Huck Finn and wanting to know the truth behind the tragedy. Was it an accident? Or was his mother guilty of murder? Or was the killer really the reclusive Korean War veteran, Hollis Thrasher, who had been seen walking from their house that afternoon? In his painful search for answers, Charlie leaves childhood behind and gains an unparalleled understanding of courage and love.’

I bought this book from Cargo Largo, thinking it was more the type of quiet, painful book that Caroline would like. I put it in my carry-on bag when I left the states and started reading it on the way to Cali—and really loved it from the start.

First paragraph:

‘People said he was crazy. He’d come down from Angel’s Rest a couple times a week and folks cleared the sidewalks when he passed. Hollis lived alone in a tar-papered shack halfway up the mountain next to the reservoir. Most of the town was scared of him. I was, too, even before Daddy died and rumors started floating all over town. For as long as I can remember, my mother told me to stay away from Hollis Thrasher. I asked why, she gave me her most severe look and said nothing. I once asked Dad about Hollis, too, got the same look, and he said I’d better leave that poor feller alone.’

I found Davis’s writing style very smooth and kinetic—the words pull you along in an easy, comfortable pace. He managed the voice of an 11 year old boy very well: not overdone but still simplistic and characteristic of an easterner. Great dialogue throughout.

Each character had great depth, as well. This was a story of the protag, Charlie, discovering a secret from his recent past—an event that unfolded slowly through the present events. Each character was unique and none were un-likeable. In fact, the ‘sidekick character’, Lacy Coe, was my favorite (as I so often do like the sidekicks more than the protags). Lacy is a gentle old black man who Charlie knows through his father. Lacy has always been in the background of Charlie’s life, until current events merge their lives and a heartfelt alliance is formed. Through his stories and actions, Lacy leaves many lasting impressions with Charlie—and with the reader.

Something about Charlie bothered me towards the end, and I think it was his melodrama. Every time he became upset, he threw up and tried to run away—behaviors that might became predictable and annoying even though I’m sure they were meant to elicit reader sympathy.

I do admire the way Davis was able to change scenery—about halfway through the book, Charlie is relocated from Virginia to the Maine, near the Canadian border via one very long car ride, and Charlie’s observations through the window create pleasant images:

‘After climbing that hill, we went down the other side of it and in the low spots Hollis drove careful around clumps of seaweed washed up in the road. We passed a place called Smiley’s Campground that was closed and sat on the edge of a beach half-covered in snow, and then through a place Hollis called Pawtuckaway Harbor. It looked like an old western town in the movies to me, except all of the buildings were white and on the other side o the road spread a huge ocean with foam blowing off the waves into the air.’

I enjoyed this story and the memorable characters. The reader will be able to figure out what’s going on long before Charlie does, which I think attests to the innocence and realism Davis has breathed into his protag. The ending of this story reads with a weight of bittersweetness that will resonate within you long after you’ve closed the cover.

Four out of Five stars for writing real people and making me care about them.

Book Report: Dearly Devoted Dexter

'Dexter, your friendly neighborhood serial killer, is a police department blood-spatter expert who, in his spare time, kills people. Not just anyone, you understand--he only kills other killers, people whom he believes deserve it. Is this because Dexter really has a heart of gold? No, he's a monster (he is the first to admit it), but at least he tries to steer his evil into productive channels. In the second of Lindsay's alliteratively titled thrillers (following last year's Darkly Dreaming Dexter), Dexter's nemesis, Sergeant Doakes, is getting a little too close for comfort, and there is also the matter of a psychopath on the loose. When Dexter's two problems eventually link up . . . well, what's a well-meaning homicidal maniac to do? Dexter, the cheerfully sociopathic crime fighter, is one of mystery fiction's most original, compelling, and oddly endearing heroes.'

First Sentence:
"It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul."

What a character! I know Dexter is coming to basic cable, but he belongs on USA, where 'characters are welcome'. Dexter is truly one of a kind; a Jeckyll and Hyde of modern day. Blood Splatter expert by day, dark-angel avengilist by night, this story is a touch Boondock Saints and a touch something truly original. The action never stops, not even to breath, as scenes interrupt themselves and the plot keeps boiling. Plus with Dexter's awesome sense of humor, this makes for one book that truly deserves all the fame it's gotten.

I enjoyed the fast pace, the personal first-person-POV, and the violence and honesty Dexter represents.
Five out of five stars for entertainment and thrills.