Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk

This was the first David Sedaris book I've ever read. I had heard that he was, um... quirky, but jeez.

I recognize that not all authors appeal to everyone, and that a reader might not love every single thing an author has to offer, but I wish I hadn't chosen this Sedaris offering first because I'm now a little nervous about sampling his other works. I read this because his writing has been praised, but I can't pretend that I liked this one just to be cool.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is a collection of short stories with animal protagonists, living human-type lives and dealing with human-type problems. Thank God the stories were short, because I don't know that I could have read more than a few pages of his prose.

Each story was weird. Each was equally depressing. I totally get that Sedaris was making observations about the human condition, and in a way, the stories were quite reminiscent of Aesop, but sweet God, man - did you have to be so disgusting?

The story that stuck with me most featured a crow talking to a ewe about child-rearing. The crow seems to be enthralled with the ewe's lamb and how content it seems to suckle from its mother. The crow commiserates with the ewe about children and how difficult it is to relax when one is so consumed by motherly love and that damn protective instinct. The crow talks about how she meditates to relax, convinces the ewe to do the same, and while the ewe is experiencing another plane of existence, the crow pecks out the eyes of the lamb in order to feed her own babies.

What. The. Hell.

Again, allegories. I KNOW. I get it. But it doesn't mean that I have to enjoy it.

The illustrations are by Ian Falconer, of the famed Olivia books. The drawings are an amazing addition, and as weird as some are (there is one of a hippo's anus), they really do make the book whole. Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is an imaginative, interesting, intentionally creepy (?), brilliant work. And I hated it.

The Magicians

How to describe The Magicians? Calling it a "Harry Potter for Adults" would be underestimating its power and creativity. Perhaps a cross between Harry Potter, The Narnia series, and a typical college experience would be more appropriate. With more than a few hangovers.

Quentin is bookish, at the top of his class in high school. His best friends are as nerdy as him, and they all have grand plans for their futures at university. But everything changes when Quentin is transported to a hidden school, masterfully passes a (seemingly) ridiculous entrance exam, and is admitted to Brakebills Academy. A school for magic.

Magicians is gritty. It feels true to life. Lev Grossman satisfyingly describes his teenage characters truthfully, without holding anything back. Yes, teenagers swear. Yes, teenagers have sex. Teenagers rebel against authority, go through an apathetic stage, and perhaps have a moment of awakening.

I really wanted to love this book, and for the most part, I did. But while the first two thirds of the story were wonderful, the last third fell short. It was trying way too hard to be something else (namely, Narnia), and became extremely predictable. While creative, I felt like there were too many similarities. I've since read that Grossman was paying homage to books from his youth, and I think that's wonderful, but there is a little too much of that going on for my liking.

The sequel, The Magician King, was just released. Just because Magicians didn't meet my expectations, Grossman is simply too talented to ignore. I'll be reading his second outing.

The Devil In the White City

Erik Larson crafted a page turner in The Devil in the White City, chronicling the construction and production of the 1893 Chicago's World Fair while interspersing the narrative with fascinating accounts of one of America's first serial killers.

After the brilliant display of the 1889 Paris World Fair, the idea that the United States would host the next fair was laughable to the world, and even to most of America. The unveiling of the Eiffel Tower was deemed one of the most incredible feats in architectural history, and consensus was that the U.S. would never be able to match that feat, let alone surpass it. How would a lowly industrial city ever pull it off?

Daniel Burnham and John Root, the Chicago Fair's architects, were determined to wow the world and to prove their critics wrong. They assembled the best and the brightest designers, landscape architects, performers, and visionaries and fought forced budgets and the powers that be to bring their collective dream to life.

As for outdoing Gustave Eiffel, they brought George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr. to Chicago. He had an idea about a large wheel.

But something sinister was lurking, just at Chicago's edge. A madman, putting his devious plans into motion.

H. H. Holmes was an attractive, charismatic man. He charmed women, left long-suffering creditors at ease, and was an extremely successful businessman.

He was also a psychopath.

Armed with facts, while sometimes forced to imagine himself in the minds of Holmes's victims, Larson brings the reader along the path of a deviant mass murderer as he charms his way into women's pocketbooks and legacies before murdering them in cruel and sickeningly imaginative ways. After skirting his debtors for years and murdering countless numbers of people, Holmes is finally brought to justice by a tireless detective.

I was sure that I was going to skim the sections about the World's Fair and devour the parts about H.H. Holmes. I'm weird about the macabre. Much to my surprise, the entire book was amazing!

Larson's accounts of the conception, planning, development, and construction of the World's Fair were intriguing, and his writing style ebbs and flows in a way that I found myself devouring every word. I am looking forward to reading his next book - In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin.

The fact that there are sixty people ahead of me on the library waiting list should tell you something about Larson and his skill in creating a pager-turner!

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon

I read lots of Stephen King in middle and high school - it was all part of my King/Grisham/Crichton phase, which died out after about a year when I discovered Jane Austen. You know, as you do.

Recently, a suggestion on the internets brought me to The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. I had no idea that this book even existed, and now I've read it twice. It's that good. I read it again specifically so that I could review it here. People! Read this book!

Trisha McFarland is nine years old, and she is lost in the thick woods of Maine. The child of a recent divorce, her mother had planned the day trip (one of many, recently) as a way to occupy Trisha and Pete, Trisha's older brother. While hiking with the two of them on a three-mile portion of the Appalachian Trail, Trisha falls back - mostly, she has to pee, but she was tired of their constant arguing.

Instead of backtracking, she decides to follow what seems to be a parallel trail, assuming that it will loop around and she'll be able to rejoin her family.

It was the worst mistake of her life.

Trisha is soon too deep into the woods to realize she's lost until it is much too late. She has a small lunch in her backpack, along with water, a bottle of pop (I suppose it would be soda to her, since she's an East Coaster...), and a poncho. Most importantly, she has her Walkman, and she realizes that she can listen to the radio broadcasts of her beloved Boston Red Sox and their closing pitcher, Tom Gordon.

She makes poor decision after poor decision, but as she hears mention of her disappearance on the radio, she imagines the hundreds of people forming search parties. She guesses that she'll be rescued in mere hours.

She's wrong.

As the days and nights pass, Trisha looks deep inside for survival, and Tom appears to help guide her on her way. Together, she feels she can and will survive. But what happens if he disappears?

This book touches on so much more than survival and instinct. It's about family and family dynamics, friendship, and hope. But mostly, it's about the power of the will.

Of course, it wouldn't seem like a Stephen King novel without a little supernatural freakiness, and it has that, too. Whether Trisha's visions are real or hallucinations is for the reader to decide.

Bridge to Terabithia

In a quest to read popular childhood books that I overlooked at the time, Bridge to Terabithia called to me. And thank goodness that it did - I can't believe that I went thirty years before reading such an incredible book.

One of the most beautiful and haunting coming of age tales I've read, Bridge to Terabithia follows the strong friendship of Jess Aarons, a self-described "weird kid" with a talent for drawing and the misfortune of being the only boy in his family, and Leslie Burke, an imaginative, kind-hearted child of "hippie" parents who moves to the area just before the school year begins.

As Leslie and Jess enter the fifth grade, it's clear that she is different. She beats all of the boys in a foot race on the first day of school and later naively reveals to the entire class that she doesn't have a television, sparking ridicule by most and a protective instinct in Jess.

Jess is completely annoyed by Leslie at first, her having ruined his plans to be the fastest sprinter in the school, but cannot deny that she has an incredible spirit. With her imagination and his steadfastness, they create a world of their own in the woods near their homes. Leslie bestows the name Terabithia and within it, they rule as kind and queen.

Together, they face problems both inside and outside of Terabithia. From marauding attackers to the school bully, they work as a team. A snap decision and seemingly selfish act leads to tragedy and Jess soon realizes how much he has grown since meeting Leslie.

It's a fast read, being that it's a juvenile book, but its lessons and themes resonate strongly. I can't even imagine how I would have dealt with this book if I had actually read it when I was ten years old. I'm guessing that I would have been absolutely gutted. And I'm guessing that I would have loved it just as much as I did twenty years later.

The Descent

"If there can be a historic Christ, why not a historic Satan?"

The Descent is many things: adventurous, scary, philosophical, religious, and hopeful. At the same time, it can be a little slow, a little depressing, and sometimes predictable.

The narrative begins with several related stories, set all over the world. A group of climbers are stranded in a cave after a surprise snowstorm... A nun stationed in Africa discovers a proto-human species and hears whisperings of a being called Older-Than-Old... In Bosnia, something is stealing massacred bodies from mass graves...

...with grisly results.

It is soon discovered that humans are not alone on Earth - that is, they may no longer be the dominant species. In fact, there is a massive underground system deep under the crust of the planet, developed by human-like creatures over millions of years. They are rarely seen, but are vicious. The few people who have escaped from their clutches are irreparably harmed, both physically and psychologically.

There have been sightings of these creatures over the centuries, but they soon begin to journey to the surface more often than ever before. Given the scientific name Homo hadalis and nicknamed "hadals," the world is soon forced to accept the fact that humans are not alone. The idea that aliens would come from below rather than above is shocking.

The story focuses on several main characters, or groups of characters. Some are seeking Satan- not just pure evil, but an actual, embodied King of Hell. Armed with the belief that "He" exists, then it's only natural he can be destroyed.

Additionally, some are looking to conquer this underworld and make it a military stronghold (because of course they are). Scientists are hoping to discover new plants, animals, insects, and resources. And one woman is attempting to pinpoint the beginning of language.

Lastly, the hadals. What do they seek?

With so many variables and storylines, one might think that The Descent is just too much. Luckily, Long weaves these stories simultaneously, allowing his characters to grow from their predetermined "identities" into so much more. The differences between the humans and hadals seem immense at first, but seem to diminish as the novel progresses. Long's grasp of the human condition is eerily accurate, which is also a little depressing, to be honest.

The Descent is a good book. It's not great, and that's mainly because of long periods of nothing happening. But it was very different from books I normally read, so it was fairly refreshing for me. It has something for everyone at some point (adventure, horror, romance, philosophic wonderment, etc.), but that might not be enough to get through the whole thing.

**I don't know if this novel was an inspiration for the film of the same name, because I haven't seen it, but there are many similarities in the plots (or at least, from what I read at imdb).**

Blood, Bones, and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef

In her satisfying memoir, Blood, Bones, and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef, Gabrielle Hamilton invites the reader into not only her New York City restaurant, Prune, but her entire life. In fact, this memoir is just as much a story of family as it is of food.

BB&B is divided into three sections: Blood, her adolescence, wild teen years, and her start in the food world; Bones, the structure that led her to where she is today - college experiences, travel, opening her restaurant; and Butter, her life as a restaurant owner, head chef, wife, and mother.

Hamilton is driven by food, but not just because she enjoys cooking. The thought of cooking - preparing, eating, sharing, and providing - is what makes her a chef. She wants customers at Prune to feel as she felt when traveling across Europe and Asia - hungry and alone - to feel as deliriously happy as she did when she encountered people who took pity on her, fed her, and gave her a place to rest.

Hamilton's planned, multi-year "disappearance" in Europe is a tale that could stand on its own, but its inclusion in BB&B is just part of what makes her book so delectable. Overall, BB&B is more about family than anything else. Hamilton's relationship tales - with her parents, her siblings, her friends, and her husband and children - are peppered throughout the book and are so complementary to her narrative, that's it almost immediately obvious that she holds an MFA in creative writing. Her descriptions of food make you not only hungry, but leave you yearning for whatever it is that she's describing.

Her strained relationship with her divorced parents clearly marks her life trajectory, cements her choices, and pushes her to be an adult long before she is ready. She makes decisions that will change her life, and some of her choices are absolutely perplexing to the reader.

Personally, I had a bit of a problem with the final third of the book. While I loved reading about her summers in Italy with her husband's family, some felt a little too personal. I almost felt like I was eavesdropping on very private feelings and conversations. But since Hamilton was clearly writing a memoir - not just a chef's memoir - every word is important.

Let the Right One In

Oskar is a lonely kid. Overweight and bullied at school, he's allowed himself to fall into routines just to avoid the daily beatings and constant humiliations from his peers. Strangely macabre, he collects newspaper articles about murders and reads stories about Jack the Ripper. Living in a manufactured town that seems to be forever stuck in a loop, people go about their business, their routines, letting each day end and the next begin the exact same way as the day before.

But as several grisly murders make the community, routines are chucked to the sideroads, and the community is forever wary of what lies in the darkness.

Oskar soon befriends Eli, a girl who has moved into his complex. She's a little weird, though. He never sees her during the day, she never seems to be properly dressed, and she... smells horrible. But she's nice to him, which is a welcome and desperately sought form of affection.

With an intertwining cast of colorful, perfectly constructed characters, they are all somehow touched by Eli. Oskar benefits the most from his friendship, growing into his own confidence and making adult decisions that will forever change his life.

This is a chilling, haunting book, and a welcome twist to the vampire genre. However cliched those adjectives are, they are the absolute best ways to describe John Ajvide Lindqvist's novel. On the one hand, a sweet coming-of-age tale, on the other, a vicious attack on the dangers of complacency, Let the Right One In is one of the best books I've read in years.

Winter's Bone

Winter's Bone is bitter and loving, heartwarming and cold, terrifying and uplifting. I liked it and I hated it.

Ree Dolly is a strong woman. At sixteen, she is already the head of the household, unceremoniously tasked with the care of her two young brothers and a near-catatonic mother. Deep in the Ozarks, she has learned at a young age what it takes to survive in near poverty. After leaving school to run the family, she has had enough hardship in her sixteen years. And now that her father has run off - again - she's the closest thing to an adult figure.

On a crisp morning, the sheriff appears at the door with sobering news. At the time of her father's last arrest for the manufacture of crystal meth, he posted bail and fled. His court date is approaching, and if he doesn't show, the family is going to lose their home. It seems that he put up the house as collateral, with apparently no thought of what this would mean for his family.

Residents of the Ozarks are all distantly related, and though being related by blood is supposed to "mean something," Ree discovers that there are many secrets that need to remain hidden.

Ree embarks on a dangerous journey to locate her father, entering areas in which she is violently not welcome. She's told to mind her own business, and slowly comes to terms with the fact that her father may no longer be alive. Caring less about her father's fate than the livelihood of her mother and brothers, she encounters the worst sides of the human spirit and the antithesis of family. While some show her kindness, Ree is deemed dangerous and her search soon escalates into a fight for the truth. And survival.

While bleak, Winter's Bone still manages to have hope. The reader is never sure of Ree's fate, and suffers with her. Daniel Woodrell has delivered a powerful novel that keeps the reader engaged, always wanting to learn more, no matter how painful and horrible.

Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

I remember catching episodes of No Reservations on the Travel Channel and thinking, "Wow. Anthony Bourdain is a dick! I sure like him." But if people see him as cocky, it sure seems that he's earned it.

The more I learned about food and cooking over the years, the more I wanted to read Kitchen Confidential. Anthony Bourdain is a "celebrity chef" now, due to this book (originally published in 2000 and reissued in 2007 with a prologue), but after graduating from the Culinary Institute of America, he toiled in kitchens all over the world for years before scoring several "big breaks."

Kitchen Confidential follows Bourdain from his start of his career in a restaurant on the New England waterfront, to his current position at executive chef at Brasserie Les Halles in NYC.

Along the way, the reader is treated to stories and anecdotes of what really goes on behind the kitchen doors in restaurants - from no-star eateries to Michelin-rated establishments. Many stories are hilarious and self-deprecating, others make me nervous to eat out at all.

For example, never order fish on Mondays, never order a nice cut of meat "well done," and never stiff your server. Trust me.

Bourdain acknowledges the many, many mistakes that line his career path, and the reader is privy to his descent into alcoholism, drug use, and other addictions. He's not alone in the restaurant world, apparently, and the lives that chefs lead are definitely not your typical nine-to-fives.

My favorite parts of Kitchen Confidential are those when Bourdain gets technical - explaining how and why professional kitchens are designed, how the sous chef and line cooks operate and set up his/her station.

Actually "his/her" is misleading. Very few women are found in kitchens, due to the rampant misogyny and crassness. Those who can handle it are legends.

Bourdain loves his choice of career, and it's obvious. He is writing, first and foremost, for the people in the industry - the ones who will "get it." It's a love letter of sorts. Laced with cocaine.

(Kitchen Confidential was a short-lived television series starring Bradley Cooper. It's actually quite good, but FOX pulled the plug after 13 episodes. Full episodes are available at imdb.com.)

Bad Monkeys

I bought Bad Monkeys because of the cover.

Okay, I had it on my wish list already, even before I saw it at the store, but really, the cover made my decision for me. I mean, look at it - it's pretty cool.

(For some reason, my exact paperback is not coming up in any image search, which is strange, but it looks like this is the one you can find now.)

Also, google gave me this gem...

...which is absolutely beyond awesome.
(Click to enlarge for hilarity.)

Anyway, the Bad Monkeys cover is kick ass, and just like studies have found that women buy more wine bottles with animals on the label (of which I am also guilty), I buy books with sweet covers.

But seriously, what a fun book!

Jane Charlotte is in jail. She was arrested for a murder that she committed and admitted as much. So why is she in the psych ward?

A very patient psychiatrist sits with her, day after day, to get to the bottom of her story. She claims to be a member of a secret crime-fighting organization - I'm sorry, an evil-fighting organization - called the Bad Monkeys. Meaning, she and other chosen few rid the world of exceptionally evil people. People that, alive, have been determined to be more of a harm to society than if they were dead.

The story is clever while never letting the ridiculousness of the plot waver. It is strong and proud in its ridiculousness! For example, Bad Monkey operatives kill using special guns that don't fire bullets. The MI-gun gives the victim a myocardial infarction, while the NC-gun kills the victim with natural causes. In fact, while the plot is completely out there, the novel takes a bit of a 1984 turn and causes the reader to wonder if organizations like this could exist.

I love Ruff's writing style. It's dry and funny, but also intelligent and insightful. Jane is a snarky, troubled, complete bitch of a character, and yet you just can't help but like her.

As the therapist tries to pull information from her, bit by painful bit, we learn more about Jane's past: her childhood, her drug-filled existence, and the organization that has given her life meaning.

The reader cares about Jane and wants her to succeed - every twist of the plot is juicy and entertaining, and the finale is worth the short read (227 pages). The revealing conclusion actually got a ecstatic "HA!" out of me. Bad Monkeys is a quick, enjoyable, unpredictable read.

The Historian

It took me some time, but once I got into The Historian, I didn't want to stop reading. Each time I closed the cover, I had the urge to read just one more chapter (I gave in on more than one occasion, and it didn't stop at one chapter). The story was so riveting that I seriously sat at work and contemplated what little white lie I could concoct just so that I could leave early and crack the cover once again. I suppose I could have brought it to work, but it is a bit of a monstrosity -- and in hardcover! Besides, I slack off enough as it is - adding a good book to the equation would be very bad.

I've read a little fantasy (mostly Terry Brooks), Philip Pullman, and, of course, the Harry Potter series, but that's about as dark as I've gotten. I've never read Anne Rice, so the whole vampire genre was new to me. I don't think that this would really fit into that group, however, as it is more about the historian himself (or herself, depending on the character). Kostova grabbed me right from the start with her descriptions of these historians as well as librarians, and I found myself remembering the rather recent days of researching in a dark library or a dusty archive. It is really the thrill of the chase - wanting to find something that you just know is out there, but haven't quite discovered the best path.

Finding the correct path in research is the heart of this book. At the risk of making this sound like the dullest book ever written (I know that many people find the idea of research tedious at best), it is a thrilling, suspenseful novel that rarely drags - an impressive fact at 656 pages.

It is a story of a young American girl living in Amsterdam with her father: a loving, caring man, concerned only with her well being, and just as overprotective as any father, really. With him gone on a diplomatic trip, she discovers a book while snooping around in his study. Along with the mysterious book and hidden from view for years, she also finds yellowing letters addressed to, "My dear and unfortunate successor." Soon after, while traveling with him in Eastern Europe, she confronts him with her find, and he slowly weaves a painful tale set twenty years in the past. A tale of his search for his graduate school mentor in the darkness of Europe's past: A search for Dracula.

Kostova is a brilliant scribe, and I never once found myself skipping ahead or skimming paragraphs - something I am wont to do while reading, especially when the book weighs half a ton. Probably a remnant from my own days as a history student. (She's also a fellow alumna!) I loved her writing style and her ability to recognize when detail was necessary and when to hold off. Her intimate knowledge of historians and their quirks comes from direct experience, and her descriptions of those archives and libraries made me want to renew my reader's card at the Library of Congress.

Oh, and I did encounter a slight problem in that I couldn't read The Historian too late at night, or I would end up having to watch something mindless before I could even think about going to sleep.

But I like to be frightened, and I think that I am not alone in this feeling! One only has to look to Stephen King's sales figures to see our desire and need for our hearts to race and our brows to sweat. Perhaps the most chilling part of Kostova's carefully woven tale was the reader's realization that Vlad Dracula - the Impaler - could be alive today.

The World Without Us

Long, long ago, I caught an episode of a show on The Discovery Channel (or the like - I really don't remember), about what will happen to the world once humans are gone, and I was absolutely intrigued. And then I magically had a gift card, I saw this book, and the rest, as they say, was history.

I have been blabbing in people's faces for months now about the awesomeness of this book, even though I was reading it extremely slowly. Usually, I speed through books, but for some reason, The World Without Us became part of my morning and evening commute, and was something that I looked forward to. I read it in doctor's offices and while eating lunch, but really, I treated it as something to be savored.

The author, Alan Weisman, is a brilliant writer. A journalist by trade, he writes about scientific and historic subjects with such interesting prose, that you are excited to learn!

God, I am such a nerd.

But honestly. It does not drag. It does not assume too much about its reader. It does not preach about global warming and recycling. Instead, it merely explains what will happen to this planet once humans are wiped out. He theorizes on what might cause a worldwide holocaust, but never really settles on a direct cause -- this is just fine with me. The possibility that the destruction of Homo sapien would be the result of more than one catastrophic event or disease is much more likely.

Weisman opens the book with a chapter about the Biolowieza Puszcza, a half-million acres of forest between Poland and Belarus. What makes this forest special is that it is the oldest surviving "old-growth, lowland wilderness." Once, all of Europe looked like this forest - something resembling what the author describes as what you might imagine as a child when someone read Grimm's Fairy Tale aloud. What happened?

People happened.

Weisman explores areas of the world that many will never see: Manhattan before people, and the biodiversity it once championed; the town of Pripyat, devastated by the Chernobyl disaster in 1986; atolls in the Pacific, teeming with more predators than prey; Olduvai Gorge and the cradle of civilization - what would have happened to this planet had humans not evolved?

The book is fascinating and uplifting, but always in the background is a dark, looming, depressing idea: Humans have changed and damaged the Earth in ways that may never be undone. The pollutants in our atmosphere, the radioactive waste we've buried underground - we may have ruined this Edenlike planet with our goals of technological advancement.

And yet, it's strangely satisfying to know that eventually - hopefully - it won't matter.

I originally thought that this book might be a bit dull, a bit too scholastic. But the reason that it succeeds is because of the clear, concise, interesting writing. Weisman hits it out of the park with this book.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from The World Without Us, a reminder that nothing is constant, that everything is liquid, and what we've built will one day be erased from the Earth:

"The upheavals and pressure will change it into something else. Just like trees buried in bogs a long time ago -- the geologic process, not biodegradation, changed them into oil and coal. Maybe high concentrations of plastics will turn into something like that. Eventually, they will change. Change is the hallmark of nature. Nothing remains the same."

The Book of Lost Things

David's mother has succumbed to a long illness, leaving David alone with his unimaginative father. Long before he has left his own mourning process, his father remarries and there is a new baby on the way. After moving into his stepmother's ancestral home, David feels more and more like a stranger.

His mother had long ago introduced him to books, teaching him that without David reading their words and turning their pages, they can't exist. David's new bedroom is filled with books that belonged to a boy who mysteriously vanished, and though he wants to know more, he can't bring himself to be civil enough to his stepmother to even have a conversation.

And he's not sure, but he's pretty sure that he can hear the books talking to him, calling to him.

Feeling more and more alienated from his father, stepmother, and new half-brother, David retreats to his books and into his mind. Never a totally healthy child, he experiences strange seizures that leave him unconscious and drained. He acts out against his father and stepmother, refusing to speak and accepting punishment for his bad attitude.

On one fateful night, as German planes fly low in the London sky, David is drawn to the large garden by what he swears is his mother's voice. He soon finds himself in a world of knights and monsters, sleeping maidens and dangerous trolls. His only salvation seems to be an ailing king who clings to The Book of Lost Things, his most prized possession.

Connolly deftly and magically transforms fairy tales - the old tales we all learned early in life - into scary, mind-blowing obstacles. David is faced with opposition from The Loups, creatures who are half-human, half-wolf. The Loups fear that David could mean their destruction, and ferociously hunt him across the land. This amazing tale is one of love, fear, growth, and acceptance. It's about facing those fears and learning to accept what you cannot change.

Connolly's writing is so deliciously descriptive that found myself reading paragraphs more than once. Not because I didn't fully understand what I had read, but because the words seemed to flow off of the page and become real. And I wanted to experience them again and again. Take this sentence, for example:

"On more than one occasion, David, in his urge to explore the darker corners of the bookshelves, had found himself wearing strands of spider silk in his face and hair, causing the web's resident to scuttle into a corner and crouch balefully, lost in thoughts of arachnid revenge."

Arachnid revenge? How awesome is that? I loved this book. I hope you do, too.

The Graveyard Book

In The Graveyard Book, wordsmith Neil Gaiman explores the trials and tribulations of Nobody Owens, a boy raised in a graveyard. So it's a classic coming-of-age tale... in a graveyard. With a title like The Graveyard Book, this book has the potential to be macabre and disturbing, but is instead uplifting and encouraging, engaging the reader and cultivating a strong, heroic character toward his eventual adulthood.

Late one night, a man named Jack murders an entire family - save one. The entire family was to have perished that night, but a small child wanders out of the house on his own and toddles into the nearby graveyard. The ghostly residents soon realize that the child must be protected, and conceal him from Jack.

Over the years, "Bod" learns from the multi-generational and historical graveyard denizens. His closest teacher and confidant is Silas, a mysterious being who seems just a little different from the rest of the ghosts. Silas is appointed as Bod's guardian, and sees that Bod always has food to eat, clothes to wear, and books to read. But mostly, Silas is to keep Bod safe, for it is clear that the man, Jack, will be returning someday.

This was my first foray into Neil Gaiman territory, and I'm very glad that I finally took the chance. I love his writing and his imagination, and the story was hypnotic. Because it is a Young Adult book, the storyline and its parallels were a little obvious (The Jungle Book), but the twists and turns were not.

It's a quick and enjoyable read, and while I found the ending to be a little bittersweet, it nicely brings Bod out of adolescence and into the rest of his life.

The Unlikely Disciple

When I was in high school, my cousins bought tickets for the three of us to see the band Jars of Clay. They're a Christian band, but I liked them for many other reasons - the songs were catchy and they didn't seem to have a super-religious overtone. But wow. We were in for a surprise. The "concert" ended up being a evangelical come-to-Jesus kind of thing with a multitude of bands intercut with preaching, testifying, and singing, and when Jars of Clay finally emerged, they only played five songs.

What made it really strange to us, though, having grown up just as Christian as everyone else (so we thought), was that everyone around us seemed to know the various prayers and hymns. "You know the song! Sing along!" And everyone around us would be belting out lyrics, one arm raised to the ceiling and the other on the heart, and the three of us glanced at each other, confused. Left out.

Then people began running down to the stage to be "saved," and we decided that it was time to leave. We were worried that someone would notice that we were different and try to convert us. Try to get us to be... saved.

It wasn't until recently that I finally understood that event.

When I put The Unlikely Disciple on hold at the library, there were nine people ahead of me on the waitlist. And now that I've finished it, I understand why. It is a best-seller because the author experienced first-hand what it was like to enter the evangelical Christian community as an outsider, and the book was received so well because the author chose to learn why these people tick rather than writing a tell-all mocking them.

Kevin Roose, a student at Brown University, enrolled at Liberty University for one semester with the goal of learning more about a community of people with beliefs far from his own. Founded by the controversial evangelical minister, Jerry Falwell, Kevin immersed himself in a completely new lifestyle for months. He joined the choir at Falwell's church, he made good friends, he learned to follow The Liberty Way, and he even dated a bit (of course, hand-holding was as far as he could go physically, or he could run the risk of paying a fine and earning demerits).

What he discovered at "America's Holiest University" was that the students, staff, and faculty were, for the most part, very good people who truly believed in Jesus, the Gospel, and spreading the word of God. And getting through college.

Oh, and finding a spouse, of course.

But Liberty University had policies that made Kevin shake with rage, especially their deeply-held rule against the teaching of evolution and the criminalization and immorality of homosexuality. Professors were carefully chosen by the administration, and anyone who threatened to overturn the set curriculum was dismissed.

Once in a while, at one of the tri-weekly convocation sessions, someone would be "saved." He or she would accept Jesus and pledge to live his or her life in service of the Lord. And it would be the talk of campus. The whole thing was somewhat interesting, until it was revealed that only those who were "saved" would be accepted into Heaven. Your religion didn't matter - Catholic? Methodist ? Baptist? Sorry! You're going to Hell.

Unless you get the call to serve the Lord, of course.

Roose writes very, very well. The book flowed more like a work of fiction than an autobiographical account, and it was almost impossible to set down. Roose maintained his journalistic integrity, but peppered his account with his own thoughts and opinions, making the narrative even richer. The fact that he was very deeply opposed to many of the things that occurred on Liberty's campus made it more than an interesting read - one had to wonder if he was ever going to snap.

And there was always the chance that he would be discovered as an outsider.

I highly recommend this book. I would especially encourage those of you with a more liberal mindset to consider picking it up, as it really gives humanity and truth to a group of people who, I think, are mostly misunderstood as crazy, religious zealots.

Had I read a book like this before going to that concert years ago, the whole experience would have made much more sense. I wouldn't have been as confused (and frankly, scared), and perhaps I would have been able to enjoy myself more.

But I probably wouldn't have gone down to be "saved." I'm a hell-bound Catholic, after all.

Three Bags Full: A Sheep Detective Story

George is a good shepherd. Not a great one, according to his sheep, but good. Raising them only for wool, he seemed to really care for his flock, giving them names like Othello, Miss Maple, and Mopple the Whale (Mopple was quite large), and reading to them from books of all genres.

The sheep liked the romance novels - the ones where the heroines all seemed to be named "Pamela" - but it was the detective stories they really loved.

The detective stories were gritty and real, and followed a distinct pattern. These were the stories that really came in handy the day they discovered George lying on his back in the meadow, an old spade stuck in his torso.

Set in the quaint Irish village of Glennkill, Three Bags Full follows George's flock as they attempt to solve the murder of their shepherd.

There are obstacles, of course, including the attempted murder of other townspeople, visitor to town, and the reappearance of one thought long, long gone.

What a fun, clever read! The sheep are amazingly worldly, due to George's stories and life lessons, but hilariously clueless on humans and the human condition.

What makes this book almost impossible to put down is that the plot doesn't race along at breakneck speed. It simply can't. George's sheep aren't humans, so they don't think like humans, and this is one of the things that I appreciated the most about Leonie Swann's novel. The sheep didn't immediately understand why humans did what they did, why George was put in a box in the ground, and who this "God" person was.

Swann weaves a tale of intense small-town corruption - a town with no secrets, where everyone knows everyone else's business, and the slightest bit of gossip can ignite into the largest scandal.

I adored this book and absolutely fell in love with its woolly, inquisitive characters.

Intuition

Intuition, a novel by Allegra Goodman, is about a world I have never experienced: the world of a cancer research lab and the quest for a cure. Goodman creates wonderfully real characters, and as flawed as they are, you still like them. You still want to know more about them.

Sometimes authors let their characters be pulled along by the story, as if their inclusion is merely a passing thought. With some books, the characters are so one-dimensional and predictable it's as if the author believed the story to be good enough without significant character development.

Not so with Intuition. And that is its predominant strength. Goodman's writing is a close second.

Intuition follows the lives of several post-doctoral students toiling away in a cancer research lab run by two eminent researchers. Some have more success with their experiments than others, and jealousy, pride, and ahem... intuition come into play.

Cliff is struggling with his assignment. The virus he had been injecting into the test mice was doing nothing to cure their cancer. He is aware that his appointment at Boston's Philpott Institute is in jeopardy, but he can't imagine not doing research.

His girlfriend, Robin, a fellow post-doc at the Institute, understands his pain. Her research interests have been pushed aside while she is expected to conduct experiments for the good of the lab and she is frustrated. Her life is research - it's what she's good at. She's working on getting better at her personal life.

And then we have Marion Mendelssohn and Sandy Glass. Sandy, the head of the Philpott, is a brilliant oncologist, though a bit headstrong. Marion, his colleague and professional partner, is more collected and inquisitive. These two characters have everything and yet nothing in common. They work together quite well, and are, at first glance, stereotypical opposites. But Goodman doesn't let that happen. She created a beautiful partnership in Mendelssohn and Glass, and doesn't allow them to evolve into parodies even when faced with crippling negativity.

The plot is actually quite simple: Cliff's experiments start to get positive results and Robin is seemingly jealous. What follows is a whirlwind that no one expects. The ending is perfect.

Goodman writes so well. She equalizes the most trivial processes and specific scientific terms with her descriptions of the human experience, bringing the reader to a level footing. By explaining the scientific jargon - but not treating the reader like an idiot - she is able to make every sentence interesting and important. A story that could have drowned in terms is enhanced by her style. Her extensive exploration of cancer research, lab environments, and post-doctoral attitudes just enhances the book's quality.

Goodman introduces a good number of secondary and tertiary characters, and you can't help but enjoy each and every one. She allows each to be more than just background - they all enhance the plot.

Intuition was languishing on my bookshelf for over a year. I am so glad that I finally gave it a chance.

The Book Thief

"I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both."

-The Book Thief's narrator, Death

I'm not really sure that I will ever be able to adequately describe my feelings for The Book Thief. If I consider the impact this book has had on my life and the ways in which I live and love, it's easily one of the top three books I have ever read.

As a World War II historian, I know full well the horrors of war. And unlike many of the people in my collegiate courses who more interested in the battles and strategic decisions that propelled the bombing of cities and attacks of naval bases, I studied the sociological and cultural implications of those on the Home Front.

I read memoirs and newspaper articles. I read accounts of life in Germany, Poland, Great Britain, and Austria. I read about rationing and bomb shelters. I read survivor's stories of the brutality and inhumanity of the concentration camps. I read about Jewish children, saved from certain death and sent to live with foster families in Great Britain, who never saw their parents again.

But even reading the true accounts of what ordinary people experienced on the European Home Front could not have prepared me for this electrifying story by Markus Zusak.

How can you simultaneously love and hate a book? How can you crave each word, each upcoming sentence, yet curse those words for making you cry? Brilliant, thoughtful, imaginative writing has the power to do these things. It is strong enough to keep the pages turning, even when the reader knows what lurks around the next corner.

For Liesel Meminger, life has changed drastically. Her mother has made the decision to surrender Liesel and her brother into foster care.

Her brother doesn't last the train ride.

Near her brother's freshly dug grave, Liesel notices a book, lying in the snow. At the last possible minute, she snatches The Grave Digger's Handbook. This single act of thievery will define her young life.

She arrives on Himmel Street, in Molching, and meets her foster parents. Rosa Huberman is a large, foreboding woman, strict from her first words to Liesel and quick to insults. Her contrast is her husband, the kind, warm-hearted Hans, who takes an instant liking to Liesel and teaches her to read the beloved books she steals.

The Book Thief is the story of a young girl who learns her life lessons far too early on. Living in Hitler's Germany exposes her to more than injustices; her life in Molching reveals the true nature of people.

Early on she learns that the punishments reserved for the pure of heart are sometimes worse than those doled out to those who consciously act improperly. Early on she learns that secrets are more valuable than rewards. Early on she learns that love can't always conquer all.

It's... kind of heavy.

What I loved and yet hated about this book was the unpredictable nature of its storyline. If you know anything about the Nazi regime and why good people failed to do right, more often than not, you'll be surprised. Sometimes the surprise will be pleasant. Mostly, it won't. I loved that I was wrong about the conclusions of certain storylines, but hated that their alternates were even more difficult to accept and understand - for the mere fact that I wasn't expecting them, and wasn't prepared for the emotions that poured forth.

Zusak's writing is absolutely brilliant and completely engaging. Every word has its purpose, and that is one of the central themes of the story - the power of words. I was so impressed by the creativity and originality of the oft-told story and the ways that Death, the narrator, dealt with... well, death.

As I devoured each word, I continually wondered how The Book Thief had been designated a young adult novel here in the United States (in other countries, including the author's native Australia, it was marketed as an adult novel). I thought that the subject matter was extremely advanced, and the details were much too intricate for a young person to comprehend.

But then I thought of myself at fourteen, reading books far ahead of my grade level and while I didn't fully understand parts of books, I was able to use the clues in the text to understand the author's message.

Most reviews state that The Book Thief should be reserved for sophisticated teens and adults. That sounds about right. However, I urge you to avoid reading any online reviews, as they generally give away every single important storyline and their results.

This is a book that will be in my mind for a long time to come.

Rant

I'm not really sure where to start with this one. Have you seen Fight Club? Or better - have you read the book? If you answered "yes" to either of those questions, then you are fairly aware of the nature of Palahniuk's imagination and originality. Or insanity. I'm not sure. If not, then I highly recommend opening your mind to his prose. Start with this book!

Rant: An Oral History of Buster Casey tells the title character's biography using oral history interviews. Palahniuk introduces characters by their own narratives, one by one, and as the reader learns more and more about them, from their own interviews and those of others, he becomes fully entrenched.

The only character we never hear from directly is Rant himself, as he is dead. Or presumed dead.

As usual, I am wary of giving away too much plot for fear of ruining your own reading experience. I would feel awful if I deprived you of any sharp intakes of breath or any exclamations of incredulity.

But really, the main reason that I am having such a difficult time with this review is because Rant is a colossal, amazing, ridiculous mind fuck. And I mean that in the best possible way.

By blending science fiction and what we consider to be the "normal" human experience, Palahniuk created a world that seems completely plausible. And terrifying. The reader simply accepts that some of the citizens in this United States are "Daytimers," while others - the more undesirable lot - are "Nighttimers." Throw in a rabies outbreak, ports, "party crashing," and a healthy dose of fear, this mandated class-based society begins to unravel with even the threat of infection.

The real star of this novel is Palahniuk's writing. I even stopped to write down some of the best lines. When describing one of the characters as pretty, he wrote, "...the pretty you only look when you love the person taking the picture." I think that I mulled over that one sentence fragment for five minutes. Think about it - what a great thought.

This form of storytelling, the oral history, might be slightly unusual when reading fiction, but is not new. Palahniuk's writing is fluid and powerful, and its strength comes from the fact that the characters are "interviewed" after the true story has already happened. There are mini cliffhangers peppered throughout the text that found me flipping through the pages as quickly as possible, and never once did the story falter. Palahniuk cleverly included a "disclaimer" that easily explained away any inconsistencies in the text by explaining that oral histories may have contradictions because people remember their pasts differently than others.

But I never really noticed contradictions.

All of the "interviews" are mostly with people who knew Rant best: his family in Middleton and his "big city" compatriots - fellow Party Crashers. Additionally, we hear from anthropologists, epidemiologists, historians, and government officials. Because of Rant's actions, he's become both an urban legend and a hero. A boogeyman and a role model. He dared to question the status quo and for that he is both feared and revered.

Other reviewers have read Palahniuk's work before. I have not. They were not nearly as enthused as I was after finishing Rant, but still praised his work. I saw a lot of Fight Club in this novel, with an alternate reality and a secret otherworld, and they were similar enough that it helped me to understand the story. I'm sure that some readers might be annoyed by the similarities, but I found them refreshing. I do wonder, however, if this is the format followed by the majority of Palahniuk's novels.

The complexity of Rant is only palatable if one opens his mind to the possibility of a very different world. Allow yourself to be completely absorbed by this world and let go.