Archive for Book Review

A Brief and Wondrous Novel by Junot Diaz

October 25, 2009 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged , , ,

Oscar WaoGenerational novels that span one family’s history can go one of two ways; they can be intriguing and provoking as a reader draws parallels between each family member’s story, or they can be incredibly, horrendously dull.

Which was my main concern when I picked up The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz. There’s only so many different relatives a person can read about before they’re skipping through to the end of the book. But Díaz is a master of his craft. Though this story is not just about Oscar Wao, the stories about his other family members all play into one explanation for why Oscar is the way he is.

And what is Oscar? According to narrator Yunior de las Casas, a boy who dates Oscar’s older sister and becomes inexplicably tied up with in her family’s life, Oscar is the square of all squares. Oscar is an obese nerd who lives for RPGs and writing hundreds of pages of sci-fi novels full of chiseled heroes and galactic battle. He can write and speak Tolkien’s made-up Elvish language, and is constantly making allusions to protagonists from fantasy novels.

Oscar, in addition to holding infinite geekdom, is a Dominican with no game. Which, Yunior insists, is completely unheard of.  No game is an understatement; picture yourself at the height of puberty, burning with a crush on the girl who sits next to you in history class and all you can do is stutter and stare at your shoelaces.

That is Oscar’s love life, perpetually. And try as he might to break out of this cycle of rejection and self-loathing, he never seems to be able to do so.

But readers come to learn that this unfortunate helplessness to change may not be Oscar’s fault. In fact, Oscar’s whole family seems riddled with the worst of luck, a fact that the more superstitious Dominicans attribute to a fukú, or curse, that was put on Oscar’s grandfather and has followed the family from the Dominican Republic to New Jersey.

Readers learn about the life of Oscar’s older sister Lola, and how she must overcome her hatred of her aggressive, browbeating mother to take care of Oscar and persevere with her life. They read about Oscar and Lola’s mother, Belicia Cabral and her rugged childhood in the Dominican Republic from her abusive early years to her growth into a woman under the watchful eye of her aunt during an era of tyranny under the Dominican military dictator Rafael Trujillo.

And Díaz introduces Abelard Cabral, Belicia’s father who dared to hide his daughters from Trujillo’s hungry gaze and kicked off the fukú that ruined his family.

This isn’t just the story of a family’s history. This is a history lesson about an entire country during the era of a brutal dictator. The Dominican Republic spent from 1930 to 1961 under the reign of Rafael Trujillo, a President turned military dictator who was best known, as described by this story, for his numerous spies and his reign of violent killings throughout the nation.

Trujillo’s reign takes a central role in the lives of Belicia and Abelard, and it is through these stories that a reader comes to see the horrors of living under a dictatorship years after Hitler was brought down. Throughout the story Yunior compares Trujillo’s associates with the evil beings associated with Sauron’s reign in The Lord of the Rings.

And through Yunior’s narration his own motives are revealed. How, despite his promiscuous tendencies, he remains in love with Lola for years as Oscar’s life unfolds.  Yunior reaches out to Oscar as a favor to Lola, but even after he has thrown in the towel on trying to salvage her younger brother, his feelings for her never diminish.

Things seem hopeless for young Oscar Wao. But a fukú can always be overcome. And after a trip back to the Dominican Republic Oscar begins to understand that he may need to make his own last stand to finally find love and break his family’s curse.

From the descriptions of life in New Jersey to the intricately crafted expositions of the Dominican Republic over 60 years of change to the biting narration of Yunior complete with nerdy literary references to the completely startling but reticently persuasive idea of a family curse, Diaz has created a novel that will keep you on your toes and rooting for the underdog. But don’t just take my word for it. I mean, he did win the Pulitzer.

–Liz

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Writer Blossoms with The Flower Poet

May 18, 2009 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged , , , ,

flowerpoetIt’s very easy for writers to fall into the trap of writing about writing. Whether you’re Stephen King or the nasally girl in the advanced composition class sophomore year, you can very easily turn your protagonist into a conflicted writer/poet/artist with ease. And for everyone involved, books about writing can get pretty obnoxious.
What makes the difference is how you handle the story. Stephen King pulled off Misery because, even though the story was about a writer, the plot focused on Paul Sheldon’s actions as a person. Sure, he had to write a book or get dismembered and murdered, but most of the plot was about Paul Sheldon trying to get the hell out of the crazy lady’s house rather than his internal struggles about his writing.
Though Apprentice to the Flower Poet Z. is a far cry from the bloody, gruesome tale of Misery, Debra Weinstein’s manipulation of her poet narrator, Annabelle, is comparable in skill. Though the whole plot of the story focuses around Annabelle’s poetic endeavors, her reactions as a person is what makes her story shine.
This story has some of the pretenses of a literary The Devil Wears Prada. Annabelle, in school on a coveted poetry scholarship, is assigned assist Z., the school’s most prominent and renowned poet. Annabelle is thrilled; Z. is one of her favorite poets, and the chance to work with her seems almost too good to be true.

And, as most opportunities of this fashion go, it is. Sure, Annabelle is charged with helping Z. with some of her typing and research for her famous flower poems, but she must also prepare for Z.’s parties (which she isn’t invited to), take care of the house while Z. is writing (apparently no one in the family is capable of buying hand towels), and buy presents for the man Z. is having an affair with (some other pretentious poet). Annabelle’s family, schoolwork and love life (well, somewhat) are thrown to the wayside as she struggles to maintain Z.’s daily routine.

And as Annabelle juggles all this, she starts to notice something: Z. isn’t quite the legend she has been perceived as. The famous poet is jealous of a young, new faculty member and tries to have her dismissed. Annabelle has to look up key elements for Z.’s poems that one would assume Z. would already know, given that she is perceived by the world as “The Flower Poet.” But in fact, Z. can barely write at all anymore, and has no qualms about taking advantage of Annabelle to keep her poetic title.

Weinstein adds a great deal of imagery and honesty to the story by adding poetic elements throughout, but she maintains her success with the story by focusing on Annabelle as a person. The girl is burned out, in the midst of her first intense sexual relationship, and has to balance her devotion and love for Z. with the truth of how wretched her poet heroine really is.

I don’t have a very solid understanding of poetry, which made it difficult to gauge the true level of Weinstein’s facetiousness at times. By understanding, I mean figuring out the difference between what’s good and god-awful. In the poetry workshops Annabelle describes, I found my palm connecting with my face in exasperation, particularly during segments that involved a girl named Meg Cross, who only wrote poetry about crosses. But throughout the book other professors and writers praise Cross for her poetic themes.

Clearly, Cross was meant to portray terrible poetry. Now, the problems I ran into came when reading some of Z.’s poems, or others listed through the book. I thought some of those were miserable as well. Do I not understand the delicate art of poetry? Or, like all writing, are some terrible pieces just glorified arbitrarily?

Some of the characters vanish from the story rather abruptly near the end. I’m curious about the missing lover, the waning poetry instructor and Z.’s husband. Though Weinstein’s gaps may leave a little disappointment, the absences don’t effect my overall perceptions of this book. It’s a good read.

Poetry confusion and character gaps aside, Apprentice to the Flower Poet Z. was an enjoyable story and a solid start to my summer reading. The best part of this book? Annabelle’s enthusiasm about poetry made me want to write again. Which is really the true test of writing about writing. Bravo, Weinstein. It’s back to the desk for me.

 

-Liz

 

 

 

 

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J.K. Rowling Makes Miniature Magic

December 30, 2008 · Filed under Book Review

tales-of-beedle-the-bard1I am now okay with admitting that I was with Harry Potter from his very beginning. I was his age at the outset of his adventures, and I felt like we were growing up together for a few years.I went back and read the first three books over and over again while waiting for the fourth. My blood ran cold when people started dying and I would argue with the rest of my family over who would get to read each copy first. And though my overall interest waned at the end of puberty, he’ll always have a place in my heart.

So when my mom bought my sister The Tales of Beedle the Bard for Christmas, the book inevitably caught my eye. One morning when she was out I snagged her copy and stowed away in my room for an hour to see what this new Rowling creation was all about. And as much as I want to say I’ve grown out of these wizard stories, this short book of magical tales still held me enthralled.

The whole idea of the book was that it was a collection of fairytales mentioned in the last Harry Potter novel. This particular edition was allegedly rewritten by Hermione Granger. In an added twist, Rowling finished each tale with notes that “were found” in the desk of Albus Dumbledore after his death. Strewn throughout are additional footnotes for clarification by Rowling herself.

The fairytales themselves are simple and cute. They could be any fairytale you read when you were young if you take away the fact that all the characters are expected to use magic. “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot” is the story of a bitter son who must learn a lesson from his dead father via magical cauldron. “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” and “The Tale of the Three Brothers” are stories of wizards and witches who, while on travels, realize the values of being good and fair. “Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump” is the story of the of a king who thinks magic can be learned through force and bribery, but is set straight but his secretly magical washerwoman.

“The Warlock’s Hairy Heart” was the most off-putting of the fairytales. Along the lines of the Grimm’s originals, blood and violence and the intrinsically bad person are the staple products of this story. The story end with the death of an innocent young lady, which is always disturbing, but even more so in little kid fairytale fashion.

Each story has its own basic moral ending. What makes it worth reading for older age groups are Dumbledore’s analysis of each story. His insights change the entire tone of a couple of the stories. A simple story about helping your neighbor is transformed into a controversial political statement about the magical world interacting with the Muggle world. These endnotes are both entertaining and nostalgic for someone who has already read through the Harry Potter series. Even in these short notes Dumbledore’s character shines through.

The neatest part of these books is that all the proceeds benefit children charities. Rowling originally handwrote and published seven copies of the book that were auctioned online. These proceeds, which were over several million dollars, were given to the Children’s Voice Campaign. The proceeds from the general sales go to the European charity the Children’s High Level Group, which offers housing and food for children who are living in orphanages.

All in all, The Tales of Beedle the Bard is a neat little book. Even if you aren’t 100 percent sold on the idea of this book, it’s worth the cash to check out. You’ll be rejuvenating your own Harry Potter fervor, and helping out a good cause, too.

-Liz

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The Alchemist Strikes Gold

December 27, 2008 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged , , ,

alchemisdtWhen I borrowed The Alchemist to read last week, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d remembered the hype of the short read by Brazilian author Paulo Coelho, but didn’t know for the life of me what is what about. So I did something I rarely do; I skipped the inside flap and dove into the book without any idea what I would be reading. And I wasn’t disappointed.

The Alchemist is the story of Santiago, a self-made shepherd boy who is attuned to the world around him, who seeks the interpretation of a reoccurring dream by a Gypsy woman. After so obscure directions from the woman, Santiago meets an old man in a village who changes the direction of his life. Santiago decides to sell his flock of sheep and travel in search of his Personal Legend, which is the true path God has laid out for him to follow. The boy leaves his old life in Spain and journeys through the desert toward Egypt.

Along the way the boy runs into some hang-ups, but remains undaunted. He knows that he will reach his goal in time, and along the way learns how to immerse his soul into the world around him and listen to the omens in his life. On meeting an alchemist in the desert, the boy learns the last of what he needs to go to seek the treasure waiting for him on the other side of the desert.

Though this book was published in 2006, Coelho has created a story that reads like a spiritual fairytale. Think of any story from Arabian Nights combined with your favorite childhood story that had a happy ending. Santiago’s life is a depiction of what anyone can do to be happy with life.

The simplicity of this book gives the reader the opportunity to focus on the life themes the shepherd’s quest presents. Coelho has written a tale about choosing a path that is right for you and following it no matter what challenges arise. The belief in signs and omens as being hints left by the world to help you on your journey is a reassuring thought, and one that will even the only vaguely spiritual can get behind.

And the lesson that you can only be truly happy by following your heart is one every person has been taught since kindergarten, but is a message typically lost somewhere during puberty and now rekindled by this book. Santiago is reminded of this again and again as he contemplates settling down during periods of the book where he feels mostly content. Despite how happy he is at the time, his heart will not settle unless he is seeking his own Personal Legend.

But it is the intertwining spiritual themes Coelho writes about that really make this story. Santiago is a Christian who interacts amicably with Arabs in the Muslim lands he travels through. Very often the boy and those who help him speak of following a true path laid out by God that only he can find for himself, which is a belief that correlates with any number of world religions. And the Gypsy woman who reads his dream and the alchemist he meets in the desert add an element of the occult to the boy’s travels.

None of these religious traditions Coelho writes about are touted as better than the other. Rather, they are almost interchangeable as various characters in the story speak about their lives and how God has been the central figure in all they have accomplished. The all believe that with faith and God and personal resilience, anyone can achieve his goals.

It’s this comforting optimism that seeps through Santiago’s journey and stays with you after the book is closed. Coelho has created a literary outlet that is both an enjoyable read and subtle way to bolster your faith in yourself and in what the world has to offer.

–Liz

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Tackle The Watchmen with Caution

December 20, 2008 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged ,

watchmenAfter taking on Blue Pills: A Positive Love Story, the lesser known of the two graphic novels on my reading list, I decided it was time to sit down and see what this Watchmen business was all about. Friends of mine had been raving about it for weeks, and with this movie coming out soon there was no better time to check it out.

And I see where my friends are coming from. However, after a first read I’m not sure I’m as excited about getting on board as they are.

Part of this problem is my own personality. I am a sunny, upbeat person. The Watchmen is a predominantly gloom and doom book. The novel relies dually on both the animations and the writing on each page, and I forget to look at the graphics while I’m reading. This ran me into several plot snags throughout the story, and I had to backtrack to figure out what I’d missed.

Like I said with Blue Pills, graphic novels are a really neat, interesting medium, The Watchmen even more so since it relies more heavily on the pictures. If you’re looking for something different to read, I’d totally suggest this book. I don’t know much about the visual arts, but from what I can see the animations are phenomenal.

As far as the plot goes, I’ve got mixed feelings. The dialogue is well-written. The plot is dark, and much more complex than I had initially presumed. However, certain elements of the story seemed to bog down and obscure the main point for me. For instance, I kept having to pause and sort out the two separate generations of costumed heroes talked about through flashbacks. And I thought the excessiveness of the love sub-plot between the Nite Owl and Laurie a.k.a the Silk Spectre.

But the main chunks of the story, once sorted out, are page-turning and well executed. The addition of supplemental documents as chapter breaks brings a lot into the story I wouldn’t have realized until the story was over. The history and subsequent disintegration of the league of costumed heroes and the political tensions involved bring a strikingly realistic aspect to the lives of these masked men and women. The book also brings in the elements of some of these superheroes fighting in Vietnam and changing the outcome of the war, something I never would have imagined reading about when I picked this up.

The personal lives of the characters are explained thoroughly, and are for the most part fairly grisly. There were parts of this book where I physically balked while reading it and had to put it down and do something else for a few minutes. Even my beloved Stephen King hasn’t given me chills like some of the ones I had while reading the bloodier scenes of The Watchmen.

This is a dark read, and not for the faint of heart. I have no idea what to expect with this upcoming movie release. But as far as the book goes, pick it up. Just make sure you have a nice light, happy follow-up book to read afterwards.

–Liz

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Klosterman Successfully Killing Himself to Live

December 17, 2008 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged ,

killing-yourself-to-liveI’ve had a writer’s crush on Chuck Klosterman since my friend bought me a copy of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs four years ago. This collection of essays arrived in my life pre-David Sedaris infatuation, and I was taken with Klosterman’s writing style, his seemingly nonchalant music references (both blatant and subtle) and his biting sense of humor. Klosterman fell of my radar for a couple years once my mom brought home Me Talk Pretty One Day, but I’d known of Killing Yourself to Live‘s existence for a few years, and finally sat down to see what else this rock writer had to offer.

Killing Yourself to Live us the story of Klosterman’s internal struggles with the notion of his life and own mortality as he takes a solo, two-week road road trip across the country to assemble a story for Spin about various locations where rock stars met their untimely ends. The book fills in Klosterman’s gaps around the rock star story with explanations of why he loves the music that he does, why he can’t let go of the women he has been intimately involved with, and how he has become who he is today.

Klosterman’s thoughts as he makes his way across the country are full of women. Three, to be exact. These three ladies have become the footholds of Klosterman’s love-life over the past several years, and his thoughts about them are constant. He relates them to music, he compares them to each other, he even imagines the exact conversation they would most likely have if they were all in the car together with him.

This is an aspect of the story that makes me a little fuzzy. And it’s not Klosterman’s fault. I’m not one to call out gender differences, but for much of the time I was reading this story I was nodding my head and thinking, “Ah, it all makes sense now. I totally get why (insert male friend’s name) is totally into this book.” Klosterman is the champion of all musically-minded, internally emoting men with nerdy tendencies and a partially obsessive, partially awkward approach toward women. His ability to write about these insecurities and call himself out is why so many guys like him.

But as a girl, I feel like I can’t relate to some of what he’s saying. And maybe it’s just a personality difference, and it just so happens that many of my guy friends can align their personalities with his. Or maybe his characterization of women and relationships, from the intimate to the casually interactive, are a gender difference that I am receiving insight on for the first time.

Despite my inability to properly empathize with Klosterman during those particular aspects of the story, I don’t feel my reading has been seriously hindered. His musical nostalgia toward everything from the 604 CDs in the trunk of his car to his love and devotion to KISS to his parallelisms with his friend’s death and the Replacements is both original and intriguing. His self-deprecating descriptions of his demeanor when stoned or failing to hit it off with a lady make you want to simultaneously laugh and pat him on the back in wincing sympathy.

And Klosterman’s writing style is dynamite. His alternating use of internal monologue juxtaposed with particular incidents of his road trip bring out the full finesse of this story. His conversations, both past and present (present being as of the road trip) bring out the best and worst in Klosterman and the people around him. He doesn’t skimp on these portrayals of the people in his story; you’re getting the full spectrum. And his discussions of death border on obsessive, trite and poignant, depending on what page you’re on.

This is the second book I’ve read this month that has been written by a journalist in conjunction with a story he was been commissioned to write. And what I’m slowly discovering is that journalists spend as much or nearly more time thinking about themselves as they do their subject matter when covering these long, extended stories. In Thomas Goltz’s case, he spent a good deal of his book writing about his internal struggle with his own morality as a warmongering journalist.

Though Klosterman’s dive into his own mind may not seem as so significant initially, his perceptions, unlike some of Goltz’s, are ones that are more tangible to an everyday reader. People reading this book can relate to broken intimacy and paralyzing fears about dying. And Klosterman’s portrayals of both make these situations a little easier to cope with.

At the end of the book Klosterman relates a conversation he had with his friend Lucy Chance about writing this story.

“Chuck,” said Chance, “please don’t write a book about women you used to be in love with.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s exploitive. And narcissistic.And a bit desperate, because it makes you seem like someone who can’t let go of the past.”

Chance had a point. But though Klosterman flirted dangerously with all these lines, he didn’t cross them. And though this story may be overwhelmingly about his relationships with three women, the ground Klosterman covers with this book makes up for these indulgences. Killing Yourself to Live is a story of music, love, death, and what really makes a person figure out who he is. And though we may not get the road trip or such a momentous soundtrack, Klosterman’s journey is one that we all will take, and that’s what makes it worth reading.

-Liz

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Chechnya Diary: Not Just a War Story

December 15, 2008 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged , ,

chechdiaryI’m not one for nonfiction. However, I work in a library, and while I’m reshelving books I occasionally come across a misplaced memoir or biography that catches my eye. I have a lot of trepidation when sitting down to start a non-fiction book; facts and dates get blurred in my head, and the details of a conflict are lost on my short-term memory. But a few weeks ago I came across Thomas Goltz’s Chechnya Diary, a memoir about Goltz’s time as a war correspondent during the war in Chechnya in the early-to-mid ‘90s, and 20 pages in I knew I had found something incredible.

I will attempt to give some very abridged background, although the above-mentioned statements means that the particulars are still hazy in my mind (frankly, if you’re interested, I’d suggest looking up some background info on the conflict yourself – hooray Google). As the Soviet Union began to collapse in the early ‘90s, Chechnya took up arms and began its attempt at secession.

And the Russian army fought back mercilessly. From Goltz’s account, Geneva Convention policies were violated, then-president Boris Yeltsin’s “cease-fires” were stated for show and ignored by his military and thousands of Chechens were killed in the resistance.

Goltz went into Chechnya on assignment in February 1995 to capture footage about the Chechen resistance and the “Chechen spirit” alive in these rebels. He went looking for action: bombed out buildings, intense gunfire and a story that would sell on television networks.

After a look into the absurdity at Russian and Chechen checkpoints (places where bribery ran rampant and anyone could get access to any location with the right money), Goltz’s guides plant him in Samashki, a place that, at the time, was far away from any of the intense battles Goltz was looking to film.

At the outset of his time in this town, Goltz is furious. He feels stranded and cut off from any good story fodder, and is left to sit around idly as the war rages around him.

Or so he initially believed. Goltz’s time in Samashki progresses, he becomes acquainted with the local resistance fighters, particularly the leader of the town’s resistance, Hussein. He sees Hussein as a man looking to take back the land that belonged to his forefathers after the Russians had come through and trampled on the traditions and history of the town. He films the life of the town, the everyday ordinariness of it, and in stark contrast films the firefights with the resistance fighters as the Russians draw in around the city.

He escapes the town right as the Russian military is about to come down on it, and returns later, horrified, and shoots footage of what will later be referred to as the Samashki Massacre. He also discovers that the contract he had presumed he had with the company he was filming for has pulled their support. Goltz is alone with his story.

With his footage, Goltz captured a world that freezes the heart of anyone with a trace of humanitarianism in them, and one that is also full of dread for an aspiring journalist. It’s the not the danger that’s distressing; It’s the apathy. Goltz put his soul into collecting this war footage, to the point that he considered himself a comrade of those killed in the Samashki Massacre, and it turned out that nobody cared.

“We want picture of the dead, not allegations from the living!” he quotes one nameless editor as saying as he tried to pitch his story. Until Goltz had obtained footage of the charred bodies strewn through the town, news channels across the map wanted nothing to do with his stories of the “Chechen spirit” or the horrors the survivors had spoken of. These news stations were looking for stories with an entertaining, albeit horrifying, element that would strike viewers visually. It didn’t matter what was happening in Chechnya without the feed to accompany it. And even after he gathered some interest from American news station, the Oklahoma City Bombing wiped out any thoughts of some foreign war taking up time on the nightly news.

Goltz’s frustration and rage is apparent through much of his book. Though he began his story as one of the thousands of war correspondent’s just looking for a story with explosions and gunfire, he discovered his true conflict was that of whether he should care about the story for the story’s sake, or for the people he was filming. And that’s something that scares me about wanting to be a journalist every day.

As much as this story is about the Chechen resistance, it captures every aspect of the moral factors in this crisis. Goltz speaks about grunt soldiers on both the Russian and Chechen sides sitting around talking about their childhoods together while their commanders negotiate a peace settlement. He writes about missing dead, stolen as collateral for later trading purposes, and where the line can be drawn between shooting a story and being the story, and what happens when nobody shares the same level of compassion as you.

Goltz captures his own personal darkness as well. His devotion to Hussein is evident from their first encounter until the closing of the book. His devastation at his inability to reenter or gather any information about Samashki as it was bombarded is shown through the repeated nights he drank himself into a stupor. On his return to the States he became withdrawn from his family and friends as he tried to force someone, anyone, into taking an interest in his material and recovered from spending an extended amount of time in a war-zone.

Goltz has written a memoir that damns the media and the Russian military while simultaneously creating a heart-wrenching war story that redefines the heart-wrenching war story by accompanying his humanness with his initial professionalism. Readers go through Goltz’s transformation as he questions the validity of his job and seeks to make others care about the plight of what he deemed “his war.” If you’re looking for an intense, reflective read for the upcoming weeks, go track down Chechnya Diary in your biggest local library today.

–Liz

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Blue Pills: A Positive Post

December 7, 2008 · Filed under Book Review

blue-pillsThis semester I took an English course called The Literature of the AIDS Pandemic. It’s pretty self explanatory, and, for the most part, was thoroughly depressing. We watched about eight or nine movies and read at least that many stories about the different facets and perspectives of those affected by AIDS. Not the most chipper way to start my Tuesday and Thursday mornings, but I did learn a lot. And to my surprise, I even discovered that some of them were not only kinda happy, but really, really neat.

Enter Blue Pills: A Positive Love Story, the graphic novel of a man who is dating a woman who is a HIV positive mother.

Yes, you read correctly. A graphic novel. Now, I haven’t had a chance to get my hands on The Watchmen just yet, so I know next to nothing about this medium. But the last thing I was expecting on my reading class was a what I had (pre-reading, of course) presumed was a shoddy, glorified comic book. Boy, was I mistaken.

Frederik Peeters has created something much broader than a story about AIDS by recounting his initial relationship with his HIV girlfriend and her HIV-positive son. He has written, and drawn, the story of a relationship that hits the rocks right from the start – something that doesn’t need an AIDS factor to draw in a reader. Everyone has been here in some or another, torn between perusing a difficult relationship or just turning tail and running for the hills.

Fred takes the high road in this situation, and we see not only the medical challenges of his dating situation, but the emotional ride of his girlfriend, Caiti, as she struggles with the mortality of both herself and her child, and all the guilt she associates with it.

It’s an interesting subject to try to portray through images, for sure, but Peeters handles it masterfully. The sketches are simple but moving, and at times even laugh-inducing as character Fred has an internal discussion while riding on a woolly mammoth. Readers both read about and see him sweating it out in the doctor’s office after the couple’s condom breaks one night, and watch as he tries to explain who he is to Caiti’s son throughout the book.

The impact of seeing the sketches while reading the words isn’t lost; scenes of Caiti’s son having to take handfuls of pills and questionable-looking cocktails are just a little more heart-wrenching with the added visual element.

But what is most amazing about this book is the Fred and Caiti’s ability to function nearly just the same as any other young couple. This graphic novel takes the stigma of HIV/AIDS and turns it on its head; here are two people in love, and though the disease still appears as a hassle, their love-life, sex and otherwise, is not dramatically effected. At one point in the story Fred is walking with a friend and the friend questions how good his sex life can be if they always have to rely on a condom. Fred scoffs at this statement. What difference does a fraction of latex make on his relationship with his girlfriend?

This story is one that really questions everyone’s paranoia at the disease, and is a healthy reminder to everyone that just because someone is HIV positive doesn’t mean he or she is a pariah.

Blue Pills doubles as an upbeat look at a serious issue and a love story that you can read – and watch – along with happily.

–Liz

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Hornby Not Falling with A Long Way Down

December 2, 2008 · Filed under Book Review · Tagged , ,

alongwaydown I always pick up a book by a well-published author with a twinge of fear in my gut. This one, I think to myself, this one is going to be the book that ruins him for me.

No longer will I be able to roam the pages of half.com or the shelves of Barnes and Nobles searching for the newest release. Because, unlike bands, once it’s over it’s over for me when it comes to a flat-lined book. I don’t enjoy it, but I can understand a sophomore slump like the Fratellis’ Here We Stand or Bloc Party’s Weekend In the City. I am willing to shell out the $10-$13 to give these boys another try when the next album rolls in.

But my loyalty to an author, though equal in strength, is much more sensitive when let down. When I read a disappointing book, it’s not just an hour worth of songs that have failed to deliver. It’s days of becoming acquainted with a character and seeing his story through to the end, no matter how angry I become with the plot. And it’s a trip the writer can’t refund me for if the book turns out to be a lame read.

So it came as an ultimate relief when I finished up Nick Hornby’s A Long Way Down, my third bout with this Brit fiction master, and wanted more from him when I was finished. In fact, my stomach had settled with the second two sentences of the first page, as told by former news anchor/accidental pedophile Martin: “Of course I can explain why I wanted to jump off a tower block. I’m not a bloody idiot.

And no, it didn’t just make me giggle because he said “bloody idiot.” Well, okay. Maybe a little. But I’ve spent a semester reading novels where nearly every protagonist is dying of AIDS, so a lighter read was definitely on tap. And Hornby’s ridiculous, dry wit hit me at the perfect time.

A Long Way Down is the story of four somebodies who are at the end of their collective ropes and independently decide to throw themselves off the top of Toppers’ House (a building synonymous with suicide) in London on New Year’s Eve, never expecting that they might not be the only ones with this hardly original plan. Martin has lost his job and his family. JJ, his girlfriend and his band. Maureen has spent 20 years taking care of her invalid son and Jess is at present a heartbroken teenager whose mood changes by the second. The four run into each other and, after comparing their reasons for jumping, decide that maybe tonight isn’t really the best night for such morbid plans.

They leave the roof, but inadvertently turn themselves into a suicide quartet. The four deal with unwanted spotlight and continue to tally up reasons to jump as they spend time trying to get to know each other, and start to realize that, in spite of their suicidal tendencies, they really have nothing in common. As the inspiration of banding together starts becoming more chore than help, the four continue to cling to each other as desperately as they can while they each try to salvage what’s left of their lives. Because none of them wants the others to be all they’ve got.

The book has a fairly happy hokey ending, but not in a magnificent turn-of-events style. The four know they are going to be okay, but the book closes with subtle moves toward an upswing, not a ticker tape parade. Hornby doesn’t beat you over the head with the moral of his story, but it is apparent nonetheless.

A Long Way Down is a light, optimistic read that still retains Hornby’s sardonic humor. Which, I guess, really makes it like the other Hornby books I’ve read. The kind of book that will make you laugh, grimace and smile, all without the stomachache. At least, until I go to pick up newest release Slam.

–Liz

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