Best books of 2008

This year was kind of interesting as far as a "book plan" goes. My original plan back in January was to read 100 short stories, and not worry so much about the novels. Last year I read 52 novels and felt pretty damn good about it. This year, I read just over twenty. Of course I also read about ten textbooks, so I think my word count balanced out well...

Anyway, here are my favorite books I read this year, in no particular order:

Ian McEwan's The Cement Garden McEwan slid under my radar for a very, very long time. I can’t even really remember where I first heard of him—though it was a few years ago. He is who I go to when I don’t want to mess around…when I need a book that I know I will love. The Cement Garden is a short novel—probably novella territory—but what it lacks in length it makes up for in psychological suspense. The novel shows what can happen to kids when there is a total lack of adult supervision, how they live their lives, and it does so in breathtaking prose. No word is unnecessary, yet the novel is rich and full. It is, at its core, a survival story of a family who must continue to endure when its foundation is shaken.

Ethan Canin's America America It’s still a book I want to reread since I’m almost positive I didn’t catch everything in it the first time. Canin’s plots, prose, and style keep me returning to him as often as I can. While this novel was a tough read for me, it’s not one I’ll ever forget.

Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why Teen suicide is really hard to write about. Really hard. It can come off as trite, as lecture, as completely false. Rarely does an author come along who can present it as it really is. Thirteen Reasons Why is a young adult novel, but it really should be read by everyone who knows a teenager. I loved it because it didn’t shy away from the icky, dirty issues that teens have to face every day, nor did it over-dramatize or cheapen them.

Stephen King's Just After Sunset: Stories This is sort of a cheat because I’m technically reading it now, and won’t finish it in 2008 unless I seriously apply myself in the next 2.5 hours. But, so far, I’m hugely loving it. I think King is in something of a writerly crisis at the present time, something I’ll comment on more in my review, but a Stephen King story is a Stephen King story, period. And this collection is long overdue.

Carolyn Parkhurst's The Dogs of Babel: A Novel The premise of this book is simply brilliant: a man’s wife commits suicide and their dog is the only “witness”. Man—a linguistics professor-- doesn’t quite believe the suicide, so he tries to teach the dog to speak English so that he can find out what really happened to his wife. There are a few subplots that add a lot of layers to what could have potentially been a dangerously simple story. But, the full effect of all aspects of the story combined with the pacing and timing make it a memorable novel.

Mitch Albom's Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson I may be the last person on the planet to read this book. I finally bit the bullet and read it this summer following the death of a friend due to ALS. I vowed that I would read it quickly and not cry. I think what this book taught me the most and what I’ll remember about it is that a memoir doesn’t have to cover someone’s entire life. Sometimes it’s okay to just tell the story that matters. It’s okay to tell the what and contemplate the why without needing to teach or give any answers. Sometimes, there aren’t any answers.

Stephanie Meyer's Eclipse (The Twilight Saga, Book 3) I love this book. I loved the first two in the series, and I loved the final fourth book. I love them so much I’ll reread them in 2009. And, though everyone who thinks they “really know books” turns up their nose at this series, I think it’s brilliant. Not well written, mind you; I will never say that Stephanie Meyers’ writing is anywhere close to good. But, this novel (and the others in the series) scratched me right where I itched, in a place that hasn’t been touched since my V.C. Andrews and Beauty and the Beast days.

E.R. Frank's Wrecked Another young adult novel, Wrecked is the most interesting for its perspective. It takes the side of a teen driver who kills another teenager in an accident. The girlfriend of her brother, no less. The novel works between past and present, as most good young adult novels do, to give readers not just a solid plot, but rich characters who are not soon forgotten.

Sherman Alexie's The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian This book had me both laughing and crying within the first ten pages. Alexie has an amazing way of teaching readers about Native American tribes and traditions without being preachy, martyr-like, or acting like he’s on the History Channel. The novel centers around a narrator who transfers from the Reservation school to a “white school” in a nearby town. His angst and confusion about his identity are staples of adolescence, but because he is also Native American, the angst and confusion are spun in an entirely different direction. And it’s an entertaining read.

Stephen King's Duma Key: A Novel This was my most highly-anticipated read of the year. It ended up being completely different from what I expected, and more of an acquired taste than I thought it would be. Stephen King needs to decide if he wants to be a literary writer or a genre writer; he’s good enough to do either, but when he tries to combine them it doesn’t work. Duma Key is a mix of literary and genre fiction, and my initial feelings after I finished the book were as mixed as the writing; now I’m thinking that, like several other novels, I may need to go back and reread it.

Eyes, start your engines...

For a variety of reasons (none of which need mention here) I am home today from work. So, the plan is to read all day. I have a pile of things that need to be read, that have been bugging me with their "read me!" stares and moans, and now it's finally time.

The first order of business is to finish Breaking Dawn by Stephanie Meyer. I'm going to miss these books. They're compulsive and addictive, and I really wish there were about a hundred more.

Next I'm going to finish Peace Like a River by Leif Enger, and write my review for MinnesotaReads (which today contains, ironically, a mildly scathing review on the first Stephanie Meyer book). I've been reading Peace Like a River for a hundred years. I like it every time I open the book...but I never seem to have a lot of energy to open it.

Finally I want to read Kelly Link's "Stone Animals." This was recommended to me by my quite-amazing former writing teacher, Dale Gregory Anderson. I have no idea what it's about except that it's strange, weird and good. Sounds like my type of story!

I also have a yoga philosophy book that I should be reading and I want to start a new book that I'm quite excited to begin. But...we'll go with first things first.

Ethan Canin's 'America America'

Jodi blogged about Ethan Canin's new novel America America a bit ago and, based on her euphoric reaction combined with Ethan Canin reading tonight at Magers and Quinn, I decided to move it to the top of my reading queue.

America, America was a journey. That's the best way I can describe it. Not a "trip" journey, but a journey of the self where you go through an experience and you end up someone different at the end than you were when you began. Like the main character, Corey, I began America, America as a child, naive in the ways of journalism and politics. As he grew up, so did I. There are definite shades of The Palace Thief, echoes of corruption and power, who has the power and who REALLY has it, and the idea that the relationships we have aren't always the relationships we imagine we have. And while Corey was feeling his way through his life, I turned page after page, balancing my own assumptions with what was truly happening. I had to check my expectations fairly early on, because part of the art of Canin's novel is that we are all children when we begin this book. Everything you think you may know, everything you expect, will eventually be turned on its head.

True, there are parts where Canin plays "coy" as Jodi describes in her review, a serious charge to level against a writer. So much so, in fact, that I very nearly put the book down twice. Once when he used the sentence "In the distance, a dog barked" (a sentence so writer-workshop-cliche I actually gasped when I saw it) and again when I picked up on what I thought was a coyness and im-ed Jodi saying "If __________ happens I will not go to the reading." She said "Oh." And, of course, I was right.

But the most rewarding journeys are the most difficult to endure. There are places along the way where you want to stop and say 'forget it.' Either because you're scared and you know it or because you're scared and you're hiding it by pretending to know it all. My readiness to put down Canin's novel is how I sometimes want to handle hard journeys---stop immediately and go back to my comfortable life. I didn't, and thank God, because I would have missed out on one hell of a ride. America, America scared me because of how good it is. How real the characters are, and how, though somewhat predictable in parts, very true the events are. It's a fine line for the writer between what "rings true" to the reader and what is "I've seen this before." Canin mastered that line, though I didn't see it right away. Why did some characters and plot points seem familiar? Not because I've seen them in literature before--because I've seen them in LIFE before.

America, America is not light summer reading. It's a book that will change you. It will change how you see politics, how you see the news, and how you see the class system that thrives in our great country. It will change how you see love, family, and devotion to the people who fall somewhere in between those two. It is a long journey--bring your water--but also bring your camera because the view at the top is nothing short of spectacular.

Short Story #4: "Something Amazing" by Elizabeth McCracken

Way back when in January of 2008, I announced Book Plan 2008...and then promptly left it for other endeavors. But, I sat down with the new issue of Zoetrope: All Story the other night and read "Something Amazing" which is, in fact, just that.

Elizabeth McCracken's story touches on several plots, several characters, without landing on any of them; yet the story feels finished and complete and whole. One of the things I liked about it was that, stylistically, I thought it meshed well with the likes of Charles D'Ambrosio and Kevin Brockmeier. It's sort of a ghost story, sort of a family tragedy, sort of a cautionary tale. Ultimately, the family the reader is concerned about doesn't end up being the family in trouble. The ending of the story is, as Alison McGhee says an ending should be, inevitable. It's somewhat surprising, somewhat unexpected, but after reading it, it's a real world ending.

McCracken's prose is descriptive, tight writing. There's an element of personal journal, some reporting, and poetry.

The soul is liquid, and slow to evaporate. The body's a bucket and liable to slosh. Grieving, haunted, heartbroken, obsessed--your friends will tell you to cheer up. What they really mean is dry up. But it isn't a matter of will. Only time and light will do the job. Who wants to, anyhow?

Best keep in the dark and nurse the damp. Cover the mirrors, leave the radio switched off. Avoid the newspaper, the television, the whole outdoors, anywhere little girls congregate, though the world is manufacturing them hand over fist, though there are now, it seems, more little girls living in the world than any other variety of human being.

I plan to check out some more of McCracken's work; I'm particularly interested in her novels. For now, though, I'm treasuring the morsel of her work featured in the Spring '08 issue of All Story.

How I did:

Gary asked how I did on my list from yesterday. Because I decided to make it a weekend endeavor, I waited until tonight to post the results. Please note that tonight is not done, and I'm still plugging away on a few of the list elements. I think that I did okay--not great--on my projects.

1. clean the house
Result: I cleaned the kitchen and unearthed roughly half of the dining room table.

2. walk the dog
Result: Done. We went for a lovely walk and then Gats got a lovely "undercarriage" bath.

3. study for histology lab test
Result: Failed miserably here. I didn't touch it. 20 point quiz on Wednesday...yikes.

4. finish death/dying project
Result: I did 3/4 of the project. I need to proofread my responses to the essay questions and fill out my funeral planning questionnaire. Maybe I'll save that until I take that damn histology quiz--I'll need a funeral plan for that.

5. take chapter 3-4 accounting test
Result: Done. Scored a 92%.

6. do chapter 5 accounting work
Result: I read the chapter and started on the assignment. I'll be doing more work on this one tonight.

7. grade CPC Poe essays
Result: Didn't touch them. Well, that's a lie: I moved them from my gym bag to my school bag to bring back with me tomorrow.

8. Run 4 miles
Result: Didn't do it. Plain and simple. Are you surprised?

9. do laundry
Result: Still accomplishing this one. It will be done before I go to bed.

10. go grocery shopping for next week
Result: Yep!

11. mail books for bookmooch
Result: Yep!

12. go to school and print histology slides
Result: Decided that tomorrow would be soon enough to print out the slides. God forbid I'd make the trip and then have to actually study for the quiz.

What I did instead:
1. Watched six hours of Big Brother.
2. Had a thai massage and hit up a Yoga class
3. Waited and waited and waited for an email from a friend. Still waiting.
4. Read a few chapters in Eat, Pray, Love
5. Cooked some fabulous jalapeño chicken
6. Stood in my kitchen and did the twist while waiting for the chicken


All in all, I'd say I accomplished quite a bit!

A little warning, if you please, dear Mr. King

Last night I was knocked slightly off-kilter when Jessie grabbed Blaze by Richard Bachman/Stephen King and said, "Hey, what's this about?". I looked at it, took it from her, began turning pages, read the back, read the inside flap, and finally gave up. "I have no idea," I said. "I don't think I've read it." As I allowed the shock of the idea that an unread King book has sat in my house for God-knows-how-long, I remembered that Duma Key was sitting on my front step, freshly delivered from Amazon.

Today after Jessie left, I cracked open Blaze and began to read. As I did, flickers of familiarity came over me and I realized that I had, in fact, read this book. Though it bothers me that I cannot remember the book, it's a consolation to know that I read it in a day. I'm not becoming addle-brained.

The unease stuck with me, though, as I cracked open Duma Key. That same tone of familiarity was sticking in my head as I read the first few pages of the first chapter. I kept thinking "I've read this. I KNOW I've read this." But of course that would be impossible, since the book has only recently come out.

Then I read this line: "It was what happened to Monica Goldstein's Jack Russell Terrier, Gandalf" on page 20. And I remembered. Monica Goldstein's Jack Russell Terrier, Gandalf, met an untimely end in a battle with a mustard colored Hummer in King's story Memory, which appeared in the summer 2006 issue of Tin House. I read it and it maintains its place in my world as the most emotionally horrific story I've ever read.

I was not prepared to re-read the most emotionally horrific story I've ever read, sitting here on a Sunday night when my ex-boyfriend got married yesterday and my favorite neighbor stopped over today to say goodbye because he's moving away. I was looking forward to some good old-fashioned horror. So please, Mr. King. Stephen. May I call you Stephen? Please, when you're going to repeat a story that is downright psychologically damaging, a story where a Jack Russell named Gandalf might as well be a Cavalier King Charles named Gatsby, a story that I vowed to never read again even though I loved it so, please give me a little warning. I don't need a phone call or a personal note or anything, but maybe something along the lines of "First chapter published as Memory in Tin House Vol 7 No 4"....think about it next time, would you? This Constant Reader would appreciate it.

Just as an aside, I'm on page 35 of Duma and, even with the emotional scarring, it's promising to be one Hell of a book. Pick it up, yeah?

Like a little ray of sunshine...

Erica and I popped over to Barnes and Noble last night so that I could pick up my anatomy flash cards, and what did we see? A "between the numbers" brand new Stephanie Plum book! It took me all of ten seconds to get it into my hot little hands, and tonight (after I did my homework, of course), I read it cover to cover.

A little dose of Stephanie Plum can do a girl wonders. Seriously.

Short Story #3: "Pop Art" by Joe Hill

I can't seem to tear myself away from this book. "Pop Art" is a science fiction story about a boy and his best friend, Art, who is not a real boy but, rather, an inflatable doll. But Art thinks, speaks (well, he writes) and feels.

The story reminded me a bit of Ryan Harty's "Why the Sky Turns Read When the Sun Goes Down," one of my favorite stories. What I like about it, and about Pop Art, is that the story is science fiction, but it isn't. It's real people in a different world from the one we're in. Same feelings, same issues. There's no consideration in either story about "why"; it's understood that Art is an inflatable boy. He sits in class, gets bullied, needs to avoid dogs and pencils, but no one ever says "why is he inflatable?".

In his introduction to the collection, Christopher Golden says about "Pop Art": " 'Pop Art' is transcendent. The single best short story I have read in years, it brings all of Joe Hill's abilities to bear in a few short pages--the weirdness, the tenderness, the complicity." I couldn't agree more. It's difficult to say much about the story specifically because it's so tightly written that to describe one scene begins to unravel the mystery of it and it's unfair to future readers to do that. Very simply: read this story. Even if you're not a sci-fi fan--especially if you're not a sci-fi fan. It's literary fiction, through and through.

Short Stoy #2: "20th Century Ghost" by Joe Hill

I'm continuing with the short story collection 20th Century Ghosts by Joe Hill, and the second story ("20th Century Ghost") was as brilliant as the first story, "Best New Horror."

In "20th Century Ghost," Alec is the elderly owner of an old-school movie house. The movie house is, of course, haunted. The ghost is a young woman who died of an anurysm in the theater during the last few minutes of The Wizard of Oz during its inaugural showing. Alec has seen the ghost and knows when others are telling the truth about whether or not they've seen her. The story is being told at the current moment because Alec is on his last working legs and the fate of his movie house is in the balance.

Typical ghost story, right? Yeah, pretty much. Except, like with "Best New Horror," Hill adds his special touch to the traditional stories we've all grown up with and managed to turn "20th Century Ghost" into a beautiful, sensitive, original story. Certain passages in his work simply take my breath away.

Then in one shot he has turned sideways to face the seat to his left. He has been joined by a woman in blue. He is leaning over her. They are unmistakably kissing. No one around them pays them any mind. The Wizard of Oz is ending. We know this because we can hear Judy Garland, reciting the same five words over and over in a soft, yearning voice, saying--well, you know what she is saying. They are only the loveliest five words ever said in all of film.

I mean, are you kidding me? A collection that has me shaking and, literally, throwing the book in the freezer in one story has me sighing wistfully with tears in my eyes in the next...Joe Hill, if you're not careful the address for I Am What I Am may change to joehillsgirl.

Short Story #1: "Best New Horror" by Joe Hill

If you ever wondered where Stephen King would be after having the road of horror paved for him by, well, himself, Joe Hill is your answer. He's also the answer to whether or not the "apple falls far from the tree": it doesn't. Hill is King's son, and his writing is an homage to his father unlike any other. I'm sure he hates being compared to his dad, but come on, that's what he gets for mentioning Carrie in the first ten pages of his story.

And his story. "Best New Horror" is the first story in his collection 20th Century Ghosts, and it's so unassuming and welcoming that the reader doesn't realize she's rattled out of her skin until it's too late. Hill breaks rules here: not only is the story primarily about writing, horror no less, but the narrator is a publisher of a collection of horror journals. And the story is one we've seen in countless movies and read in countless tales of terror since, um, his dad. And yet... Hill uses everything that we know about spooky people, spooky farmhouses, single men with homes smelling of "manly pancake batter", not to condescend to us, but to trick us into thinking that we've read his story before. We haven't. We haven't read his story, or the story within his story, ever before, and it's a hell of a way to open a collection.

I'm not sure why I thought I could read a scary story at night, this close to bedtime, but now I've gone and done it to myself. This book is going into the freezer before bed.

The unveiling of Book Plan 2008 and one resolution

I've been thinking a lot about this year's book plan and how it's going to fit in with my new obligations. It's very important to me that I find a way to balance teaching, college, reading and writing, as well as continuing to lose weight and become healthier. To that end, I've decided not to slam myself with a huge wall of resolutions like I normally do, and I've also decided that, though the number 100 is important to me, it's not possible for me to devote the time to novels that I have in the past.

Book Plan 2008:
Read 100 short stories in 2008. I am a short story writer, and I should read a lot more stories than I do. I think that by reducing the quantity of reading I'm expecting of myself but keeping with what should, theoretically, be my favorite genre, I'll be successful.

Resolution #1:
Quit smoking. For real. I took my first drag on a cigarette on my thirteenth birthday. That means I've smoked for over half my life, and I'm only thirty-one. Unacceptable. I know that I have the strength to do it; I need the desire to do it. I think I have it....at least today I do. And, I can't think about never smoking again; I have to think about not smoking today. Today only. And I can do that.

Book Plan 2008: A Preview (and a panic attack)

So I was at Half Price Books with Erica last night picking up some anatomy study guides and a few other fiction books when the realization hit me: starting January 14, I may never read a book for pleasure again. When will I have time to read? Three college classes combined with a teaching overload? Nevermind that I haven't been a student in ten years, and when I was that student ten years ago I was an average student at best--and in science and psychology, two of the classes I'm taking--I was below average at best.
The formula stands at about 3 hours of studying/homework for every one hour of class, and from what I remember of college (ten years ago, yeah?) that's pretty accurate. So, I've got nine hours of class. That's 27 hours of studying (I think that's the sum total of study time I spent in college) combined with those 9 class hours for a total of 36 hours of class/studying. OH, and the 40+ hours of the teaching thing. How many hours are in a week? *calculating* 168. And, I need to sleep; I'm in my 30s now. So let's take away 56 hours for sleeping. Okay, so that's 168-56=112 - 40 hours of work = 72 - 36 college/study time = 36.
I have 36 hours a week to do my own thing. Okay, that's actually not so bad. Could someone check my math on that please? That gives me approximately five hours a day to eat, pee, watch Seinfeld, read, write, do yoga, hang with friends, play with the dog, etc.

I am so dead. I'm so dead they're going to have to bury me twice. That's from a movie, I think. So, enjoy Book Plan 2007 while it's here, folks. Next year there isn't going to be any 100 books in a year plan...I think I'll try for one. Book. For pleasure. One book for pleasure.