Book Report: About the Author

By John Colapinto

'About the Author'

From Publisher's Weekly:
'Cal Cunningham, the engaging, "panther-thin" protagonist of Colapinto's intrepid first foray into fiction (after his nonfictional debut As Nature Made Him) is an author with writer's block, struggling to acquire the "monastic absorption" needed to pen his autobiography and be freed from a meager existence as a bookstore stock boy. His dreams of success are further dashed when reclusive law student-roommate Stewart presents a brilliant short story he's written, and after some digging on the sly, Cal discovers a scandalous, novel-length manuscript recounting the sordid details of his own womanizing life. When Stewart is killed in a biking accident, a resentful, envious Cal adopts the manuscript, Almost Like Suicide, as his own and courts Stewart's old girlfriend Janet, too. Aided by flawlessly rendered literary agent Blackie Yeager, who sells the novel for millions, Cal lands a monetary and media windfall. Eventually moving to New Halcyon, Vt., to marry Janet, his perfect if duplicitous life is interrupted by the arrival of a stranger claiming to have Stewart's laptop computer containing the original manuscript; Cal's messy, disastrous comeuppance, involving blackmail and murder, takes over the second half of the novel.'


First sentence:
"For reasons that will become obvious, I find it difficult to write about Stewart. Well, I find it difficult to write about anything, God knows. But Stewart presents special problems."

For some unknown reason, I misled myself into believing that this book would be like 'Secret Window', so for the first one third of the story, I believed that temporary antagonist 'Stewart' was only Cal's imaginary friend. But as the story spiraled deeper and deeper into Cal's guilt and good fortune, I re-read the blurbs on the back and realized there were no mind-games. This story is a straight and colorful adventure including drunken binges, lesbian foreplay, blackmail and murderous intentions. In the course of over a year, Cal goes from being a poor, lowly want-to-be writer to owning a house in the country, with millions in the bank and movie deals pending. It's all come to him because he stole his dead roommate's unpublished novel--but he rationalizes the plagiarism by telling himself that the story is ultimately his; events that happened to him, merely transcribed by Stewart. And because no one knew Stewart had even written it, the script was free for the taking.

Except one person did know--the morning he died, Stewart mailed a copy of the book to his old girlfriend, asking her to critique it. In a panic, Cal races to Vermont and easily--TOO easily--lifts the package before Janet even knows she had it. High on his successful criminal-ism, Cal now sees no hurry to rush back to his cramped apartment. He asks out the lovely Janet, to which she agrees, and soon they fall in love and marry.

Just when everything seems picture-perfect, Les shows up--a one night stand from months ago who has in her possession the laptop she stole from Stewart before vanishing into thin air. And what should be saved on said laptop, but a copy of 'Almost Like Suicide', written by Stewart. Cal, desperate to save his reputation, marriage, and humility, caves to Les and gives her the money she demands, riding on very thin hope that they can live as parasite and host for the rest of their lives, peacefully.

But as Les demands more and Cal becomes more and more desperate, things fall apart. Unfortunate for Cal, but great reading for the audience!

I liked this book. Cal has a sense of humor, though not overly so. He is a worrier but cunning, always trying to stay one step ahead. For everything that happens to him, he calculates a way out. Most of all, I loved how he justified every single unjust thing he did. Nothing was his fault, he did nothing wrong, he could and would live happily ever after. These were thin delusions of course, but exactly what guilty parties cling to so they can sleep at night.

This was written in first person and at about the three-forths mark, things become present-tense as everything beforehand has been written by Cal as a memoir. It takes on more of a diary-type tone, hurried and insecure as the pressure becomes tight. After the climax, the pace slows again and we learn that the entire book, 'About the Author' was written as-is by the protag as a memoir.

And there are movie deals pending.

Colapinto did an outstanding job creating a smooth story out of what could have easily been disjointed and confusing. I even noticed that as the story progressed, 'Cal's' writing improved--conveying ever-so-subtlety that if he'd only sat down and wrote, instead of scheming up ways to not write, all his troubles could have been avoided. Very good lesson.

The only problem I had was that I felt that at any point, I could have set this down and forgotten about it. I'm not sure why I felt that way. The events were tense and logical, always escalating. The characters (well, Cal, anyway) was interesting and honest. The writing style, while starting off bland, developed and became quite good. The imagery was clear. The dialogue real. This was just a long story, perhaps too long for my tiny attention span to grasp. But that is no fault of the author's.

Three and a half stars out of five for plotting and accurately portraying the insane, eff*ed up psychology of a writer.

Book Report

Curves and Bends and Cars That Wont Come Fast
by Brian Fleming

This is the first collection of short stories I've read, despite my interest in writing them. I'm unable to think of an idea that provides any feeling of completion in two thousand words--and, I have nothing of interest to even start with.

But Brian Fleming showed me how it was done. 'Curves' is a collection of stories with one common theme: the search for happiness. Each story revealed a different character in a very different sort of journey, most of them left unhappy at the end of their exploration. The book opens with an incestuous story of three children left to their own devices during a long summer of hormones and lake-side talks--leaving a lasting impression and an incredibly high standard for all the following pages. Then there was the story of the slut who left her one-night stand alone in the apartment, then, after returning to find him gone and the place untouched, emptied the house herself and dumped every possession on the curb out front. There were stories of fathers and sons, lovers and fighters, all of varying race, religion and temperament. Each was unique, each felt authentic and lived, and for each, the pain was real.

Morals and lessons are not spelled out in this book. As with all rich food, you must read slowly and take time to reflect and digest. I'm not even sure what some of these stories were trying to say, if anything at all. The words capture flashes in time, usually at some monumental or debilitating time in the character's life. Although glossy and broken into bite-sized bits, each page is drenched in emotion and Fleming proves that incredibly good things can come in small packages.

Four out of Five stars for gritty, moving storytelling and characters who never find happiness.

Book Report: Gravity

Not only is Gravity by Scot Gardner Australian fiction I pulled from a bargain bin in Melbourne, it is also teen fiction! Good luck finding this book, my fellow Americans. Amazon has one copy for $42.

"Saturday night. Nowheresville.
And Adam Prince has had a gut full.
He knows every face in Splitters Creek, and in his eighteen years has explored every dream job and future on offer. He wants more than a job at the local sawmill, and so much more than his cracked family can give.
Adam needs to escape. To run.
To find a future worth dreaming about.
But no matter ho hard he runs there are some things that will never let him go."

First sentence:
"Win, lose, or draw, there's always Saturday night."

This story opens with Adam, the protag, disgusted by the familiar bar setting around him. He leaves, and against better judgment, starts to drive home. He never makes it.
A car crash is the inciting event, the catalyst that sends Adam out on his own and into the world he's always wanted to see. He's been bound to Splitters Creek by his family: his mentally damaged older brother and overly-religious father, all of them having been abandoned by their mother who is now living in the city. Adam wants to find her, to find out why she left, to ask her to come back.

To my surprise, the story had lovely hints of 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape'. Adam is unflinchingly generous. He takes it upon himself to help where ever he sees it's needed: taking care of his brother, taking care of his brother's young son, helping clean up a mess of paint in a hardware store--which ends up earning him a job. Though he wasn't planning on getting one, he takes it, partly because of his attraction to a female coworker.

Through his job he also meets Harry, a young guy about the same age who invites Adam home for drinks. They become friends, and Adam ends up sleeping over when things don't go so well with his mom. Through Harry and his sister, Adam experiences the city's bars and clubs and women, and over the course of a few days, discovers that the grass isn't always greener. His experiences cause him to mature and figure out what he really wants and needs. He keeps trying to talk to his mom and finally, after a week, they come to a heartfelt understanding.

Just in time for bad news from home.

Simon, Adam's brother, has gone missing.

The end of the story feels complete. Adam has changed, along with several other characters. Truths are discovered, grudges are finally let go. There are losses, and there are promises. Adam has discovered himself.

I give this book Five out of Five stars for memorable and logical characterization

Book Report: Five Oranges

Five Oranges by Reilly Graham

Status: Abandoned five pages in due to 'head jumping' and too-thick Irish dialect.

Sorry, but I got lots of other books to read. No time to struggle through a book I can't understand.

Book Report: Buzzed

Buzzed by Michael Witheford


First paragraph:
'Go to buggery then, 'Money Quest'.
You're not going to call. I know that. You know that. I'm not in the mythical barrel from which you allegedly extract the names of the lucky contestants who appear on your show--contestants who I could quite comfortably thrash on any night of the week. I was never in there, was I? Barrel my arse, frankly.'


Paul Hetherby is a hilariously cynical 35-year old man, suffering the hardships of being unemployed, heading up a struggling, unknown rock band, and a dismal love life. The start of the story sees him end a relationship with Janine, after she sleeps with a coworker. Although he'd been wanting to break it off with her for some time, the news still hits hard and his self esteem suffers.


But then Paul gets a bit of good news: after 8 years, the popular quiz show 'Money Quest' would like to have Paul appear on the show. This is the answer to all Paul's problems. He's strategize and practiced obsessively, and is confident he can win. With a suit borrowed from his successful brother and blessings from his mother and friends, Paul steps onto the TV set.


He hadn't planned on Rachel, though. When the attractive young woman wins the tie breaker by half a second, Paul is numb. His dreams are crushed. The filming ends, and Paul heads back to make up and forces a 'congratulations' when he sees Rachel there. Before he knows what he's doing--and with nothing left to lose--he asks her out for a drink and to his surprise, she agrees.


The rest of the story shows how Paul regains his confidence and finds true happiness--and then loses it. This is a memorable story of love and loss, of discovery and letting go. Witheford wrote his character as only a man can--simplistic and yet oh-so-complex, blundering yet endearing: a real and 3-dimensional human being.


And that is what impresses me the most about 'Buzzed': Paul is a multi-faceted character. With his girlfriends, he is the boyfriend: in love, gentle, caring, appeasing. With his bandmates, he is a rocker: proud of his rag-tag band, at home in the spotlight, a drinking partier. With his family, Paul is the son and brother. At home with his cat, Paul is himself: slightly manic, obsessive, insecure, poor, and at times, depressed. I felt that I really connected with Paul as I watched his mannerisms change to play the part. This is guy behavior. This is normal behavior, and I could relate.


Borrowing clothes from his brother:
"Can I borrow some clothes for TV?" I venture tentatively.
"Um… like what?" he frowns.
"A suit. Two suits."
"I've only got four."
"Four! That's a shopful. Armani?"
"Four," he says again.
"What?"
"Four. I said four."
I'm lost…oh…I get it. "I said Ar-ma-ni, not how many. Ha."
"Oh, right. Ho ho." No particularly amused. "Target, actually."
"Fine. Hand them over."
"You can only have one. Can't you wear jackets and shorts? No one sees your legs."
"They do when I go to get my prizes."
"So, it's decided then. You can't lose. You're invincible."
I nod.
He smiles. "I could beat you."


At a party:
For a moment there is silence, then Wilky throws his head back and howls. Everyone looks around. I stare down the neck of my bottle.
Ah, Rick. Thank God. Saved.
"Rick, this is…"
"Wilky, man. The pleasure's mine."
"So they tell me," says Rick.
"The Doors, man," urges Wilky. "The Doors."
Rick stares at Wilky with instant distaste. "Yeah. Stripped pine. Very tasteful."
"Rick," I say, "call off your dog."
"Got a minute?" says Rick.
No, I want to stay here and learn how this guy build the pyramids with a box of Lego and two tabs of acid.
"Yep, I do got a minute." I smile at the man in the hat. "Urgent business, nice to meet you. Take it easy."
"You too, man," and off he staggers.
"Send my regards to The Grateful Dead," Rick calls out. "Night Jim Bob."


On first date with Rachel:
"You said you did some bar work?"
She nods. "Weekends at Bar 72. Saturday's called 'Pineapple'."
I think I might have been there once. "That's the one hidden off Flinders Lane?"
"Yeah, you know it?"
"I went there once. The music was fantastic. Lots of filthy rock and roll."
"Must have been a Saturday," she nods. "It's like an anti-disco on Saturdays."
"Yeah, some guy played a whole side of The Who Live at Leads the night I went." I pull chunks of ice out of my drink--there's enough in it to sink the Titanic. "Yeah, I was in heaven when I stumbled onto that place."
"When was that?" Rachel asks. "Maybe I was working."
Maybe she was. But barmaids can by so… distant. So intimidating. Rachel isn't like that.


I give this book five out of five stars for character depth and emotional development.

Book Report: 1988

1988
by Andrew McGahan

"McGahan takes Generation X down under, and the results are surprising. Set against the horizon of sea and sand in the remote Cape Don, quirky nihilism seems charming, if misguided. The stage is set for a twenty-something Heart of Darkness: Gordon and Wayne flee Brisbane for the promise of work and the hedonism of isolation--a weather station in a crocodile-infested swamp on a remote spit of land. Every three hours they have to make a weather check, a sure recipe for madness. As the tension mounts, McGahan diffuses it with humor and alcohol. Gordon never faces his dark heart, but he does endure a bad hangover. A refreshing twist, 1988 is not just an anti-Generation X novel but an anti-novel, where all our expectations are funneled into the desert, where they dry up and evaporate."
-Amazon.com

I started this book on the plane, after having been thoroughly disgusted by 'Rats', and was immediately calmed:


"There was an argument in Chinese outside my door. It happened often and in many ways I was beginning to hate the language. I rolled over and considered the digital clock. Nearly midday. Time, maybe, to get out of bed. I lat and listened for a while, looking down at my white round belly. It was hot in the room, a stale air of sweat and old sheets. The morning asthma weighed in. I groped around for the Ventolin, found it, sucked in the drug. Outside the voices rose, fell, moved along the hall, came back again. Maybe it wasn't an argument. Maybe it was just a loud discussion."


I have nothing but glowing comments for McGahan's superbly crafted novel. This is the story of people--of real, flawed, living characters who speak and think and act for themselves. The protag, Gordon, is a character I could identify very closely with. I was able to find an almost uncanny truth to his method of thinking. He cares about things more than he wants to, wants to do the job right, takes it all seriously even though he hates it. William, the slacker and pot-smoking artist who got them the weather job in the first place, calls Gordon a 'control freak'. Gordon can't understand why it makes him so angry when William doesn't do his share of the work--after all, they both hate the job and want to leave. It was only temporary anyway. In between weather checks, they drink and smoke. The island is untamed and empty: no people, no views, just them and a dilapidated old house. Gordon takes up smoking for something to do. They get drunk every night. By the end of the book, Gordon realizes he is, in fact out of control.

The writing is masterful. This is a story of slow, torturous boredom for the characters--and yet, the psychological deterioration and tension is palpable. Emotion bleeds from the pages. I was constantly guessing at what events were to unfold--usually wrong, but fascinated nonetheless. The subtlety of this book is the best I've ever read: the motifs and nuances fit like interlocking jigsaw pieces. Everything fit. The end is somewhat inconclusive, but yet, it's acceptable. It's a story to reflect upon and discuss. It's a story to read twice.

Five glowing stars out of Five for a gripping, raw character journey set in the most boring of places--but creating a story that's anything but.

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.