Category Archives: Inventory

Inventory: The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace

The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace
Wallace without  the humility or the humanity.
Status: Just say the word.

AS COLLEGE FICTION WRITING GOES, this novel — which began as one of David Foster Wallace’s undergraduate theses — is some of the best you’ll find. But if you know anything about college fiction (and I include graduate workshops in this category as well), you know that’s not exactly praise. Wallace is too enchanted with his own intellect and subversiveness to really tell a good story here, and it all ends up just feeling like unhappiness. Not even sadness. Just unhappiness.

There are some good parts, and at times I found myself thinking, “Wow! That was written by an undergraduate?” But for the most part my reaction was, “Yep. That was written by an undergraduate.”

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Inventory: Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon and Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson

Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon
The dude abides.
Status: Limited release in DC area only.

“INHERENT VICE” IS the Pynchon book I was the least interested in reading, and the one I flat out enjoyed the most.

Late-60s California surfer noir (on weed) is not really my thing, or so I thought.  Even a YouTube video featuring the famously reclusive author speaking as the book’s lead character Doc Sportello, who describes himself as “a private gum shoe…or nowadays more like gum sandal,” didn’t catch my interest. I went to the book reluctantly, and it turned out to be well worth the read.

“Vice” is a shorter novel, and not one of Pynchon’s 500+ page picaresques. The obvious comparison is to “The Crying of Lot 49,” but “Vice” has more substance on its story and more to care about in his characters. Pynchon paints the transition into the 1970s as a lost era of innocent hedonism, a time when the last stragglers at a long party — pushed as far West as they can go, and waiting as long as they possibly can — come up against the hard knowledge that the party is ending. It’s silly, heavy, and at times heartfelt, with plenty of Pynchon’s standard ingredients of odd conspiracies, strangely dangerous rock bands, mysticism, technology and even a little sexual dominance (but just a little).

The man does a really good weird detective novel.

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Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson
> Zero Cool.
Status: Available.

I’VE HEARD NEAL STEPHENSON’S NAME MENTIONED alongside writers like Pynchon and David Foster Wallace a few times, especially in reference to his 1999 novel “Cryptonomicon.” The book is a long, intricately plotted story following an ensemble cast through multiple, interwoven narratives, and Stephenson isn’t afraid of explicit writing about sex, science, violence, history, math or technology. Not to mention that he can also be really funny. The story is less challenging and, ironically, less cryptic than anything I’ve come across from DFW or TP, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun, and Stephenson withstands the comparison.

From its name, its gray on black artwork and the cruciform designs on its cover, I assumed “Cryptonomicon” was going to be about something more fantastical and occult. It’s not; the closest thing to magic here is the card-based role-playing game happening in the background of a meeting between hackers. The hackers in question would likely just be called computer programmers today, but in the late 1990s they were guys who knew how to program UNIX machines to do things the government and corporations were concerned about, or outright afraid of. “Cryptonomicon” is set right at the point when guys like these were gaining legitimacy, and huge paydays, but are still on the fringes of most things having to do with society.  One of the “hackers,” Randy Waterhouse, is working with a number of other eccentrics to establish a data haven on a fictional island in the South Pacific, roughly the equivalent of legally immune Swiss banks, but for information. Other reasons for the project are revealed as events progress.

When we’re not in the late 90s, we’re following a handful of globe-trotting characters during World War II. The chapters alternate between Randy, the American Marine Bobby Shaftoe having adventures in the Pacific theater of the war, a Japanese engineer, a rogue Catholic priest/mercenary, and Allied Forces code breaker Lawrence Waterhouse — Randy’s grandfather and the man charged with deciphering Japanese and German codes, then figuring out how to use them without revealing to the enemy that their codes are broken.  Things gets really interesting when it becomes clear why the various narratives are connected.

“Cryptonomicon” could have stood to lose some pages, and when writing about Bobby Shaftoe, who provides an almost slapstick style of comic relief in some of his scenes, Stephenson let’s his “Catch-22″ influence show a little bit too often. But there’s no place where the story drags, which is saying a lot for a 900 page book.

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In the News: Wolf Hall Sequels

THE GUARDIAN UK IS REPORTING that Hilary Mantel is writing not one but two sequels to her Booker Prize winning “Wolf Hall.”

Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall, her dazzling, utterly absorbing invention of the inner life of Thomas Cromwell, will have not one sequel, as expected, but two. Mantel is now planning a Tudor trilogy: a new novel, Bring up the Bodies, to be published by 4th Estate in May 2012, will focus on the downfall of Anne Boleyn; and a third book will keep the title the author had already announced for the sequel, The Mirror & the Light, and will continue Cromwell’s story until his execution in 1540.

It was roundly agreed that “Wolf Hall” was excellent, including here at TPB.  It’s kind of like a real life “Game of Thrones.” And though it’s no longer available for trade, winter is coming, and along with it, the holidays.  Put it on your list, or treatyoself and get it today for whatever traveling you have to do.

Our original (short) review below.

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Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
Mantel earned the Booker Prize with this one.
Status: Currently seeking reader

“WOLF HALL” IS ALSO SET IN ENGLAND, but takes place roughly 450 years prior to “Black Swan Green.” Henry VIII is pushing through his divorce and remarriage via (re)formation of the Church of England, a process largely overseen by his unlikely adviser, Thomas Cromwell. Despite being at the center of this British lit, Cromwell’s story feels distinctly American: the poor son of an abusive father, he rises to the King’s court through cunning and aptitude. He is respectful but unbowed by title, humane in his judgments and progressive in the democratization of faith that enables King Henry to have what he wants. (N.B: This interpretation may have to do with my current reading on Alexander Hamilton, another impoverished, polymath upstart who found himself the closest adviser to the head of state during another time of tumultuous change.) The story’s episodic structure and the fact that so much happens offstage keeps readers at arm’s length from Cromwell, who is nevertheless an engaging and sympathetic not-quite-narrator.  The effect is important to the overall effort, but is difficult for Mantel to sustain over 600 pages. That’s the worst thing I can say about this book, the second-worst being that when I finished I felt instantly like I needed to read it again right away.

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Inventory: The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach
Why read Moby Dick?
Status: Called

REVIEWS OF “THE ART OF FIELDING” ARE EVERYWHERE, so there’s no need to add another extended solo to the chorus. Simply put, this is an excellent book. It had me up past bedtime turning pages like nothing I’ve read in years.

Harbach writes with an easy depth reminiscent of Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” or Bellow’s “The Adventures of Augie March.” “Fielding” follows in that distinctly American tradition of wildly entertaining philosophical texts, with stories of farmer scholars and noble, soldier poets. It’s a tradition I and many others, including Harbach and his characters, also associate with baseball and it’s athlete philosophers.

There is some flatness in the people, who tend to be drawn from a combination of everyday humanity and the graduate-level humanities of their academic setting, and I have a sense that “Fielding” could have been even better had Harbach packed more into his people and the events that bring them together.  It’s interesting that he didn’t write on and on, since Melville’s expansive and deeply detailed “Moby Dick” is not just an obvious influence, but damn near a character in the story.

Still, it’s hardly a complaint to say — after closing the book and considering how soon you have to be up for work in the morning — that you wish there was more to read.

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Cornucopia: The Hunger Games and Catching Fire

One copy each of “The Hunger Games” and “Catching Fire” are now in my possession. They could be yours, if the odds are in your favor. My thoughts on each below.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Read if you liked The Running Man and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.
Status: Yours if you want it.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

IN A PREVIOUS ERA, a popular young adult character was assured that “Life is a game,” to which he replied: “Game, my ass.  Some game.  If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it’s a game, all right – I’ll admit that.  But if you get on the other side, where there aren’t any hot-shots, then what’s a game about it?  Nothing.  No game.”  Given the chance, Katniss Everdeen, the sixteen year-old heroine of “The Hunger Games,” might have identified with Holden Caulfield’s thinking, though in a considerably more literal way.  As it is, there is no indication that any copies of “The Catcher in the Rye” exist in her district of Panem, “the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America.”  Panem is your standard dystopia: distant future; post-war society; impoverished districts held under the thumb of a shiny, sophisticated and paranoid government.  Suzanne Collins, however, adds some interesting tweaks, most notably (for me anyway) that instead of a bleak post-nuclear landscape, Panem is a grim post-climate change world where instability and scarcity have led to massive bloodshed.

Read the full review.

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Catching Fire by Suzanne CollinsCatching Fire by Suzanne Collins
It’s a deep burn, so deep.
Status: Available

“CATCHING FIRE” IS A CLASSIC second entry in the sci-fi, fight-the-power-trilogy tradition. Whereas in the first round people must begin to resist and reluctant, unlikely heroes must come into their roles, the second must show the battle essentially started, with sides chosen and things at their most grim. The full might and cruelty of the bad guys must be demonstrated and the good guys must realize and be daunted by how hard it is to chew what they have bitten off. In the model of “The Empire Strikes Back,” the middle entry is usually also the best of the three.

“Catching Fire” meets most, if not all of these criteria.

Read the full review.

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I Was Elected to Lead, Not to Read

The Daily Beast looks at the President Obama’s reading list since 2008. Lots of Lincoln and more than one Roosevelt. And I wonder if he liked David Mitchell’s “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.”

(Click the image for a larger version.)

UPDATE: National Review reports on the president’s vacation reading list.

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Inventory: Still Available

SummertimeStrong Motion by Jonathan FranzenGilead by Marilynne RobinsonHome by Marilynne RobinsonThe Young Man's Guide to Late Capitalism by Peter MountfordA Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer EganThe Prisoner and the Fugitive by Marcel ProustFinding Time Again by Marcel Proust

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Inventory: What I Read on My Honeymoon Vacation

Coming to you live from La Pyramide hotel in cloudy Managua, Nicaragua with a run down of what I read in the last two weeks of touring and tanning and general sitting around. Like most beach reads, I will be working through this quickly, and with the possible involvement of rum. My apologies ahead of time. 

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David MitchellThe Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell
Deacachimba
Status: Available soon.

OUR GRANADA TOUR GUIDE, CAMILO, informed us that in Nicaragua the word deacachimba was the equivalent of the American “Awesome!” Urban Dictionary has different ideas, but I am inclined to believe the guy from Nicaragua first. At any rate, David Mitchell’s “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” is deacachimba, in both the awe-inspiring and high-fiving sense. It’s an extraordinary story of love and betrayal and honor, set on a Dutch trading outpost in Japan at the turn of the 19th century. This was not anywhere close to what I expected, and “Thousand Autumns” is one of those books with such a strong plot, where so much actually happens, that my English-major mind is a little troubled with grasping it as “literary.” But it is literary, and anthropological and beautiful and romantic, making it a beach read with genuine credibility for those of us who don’t like e-books because people won’t be able to admire what good literature we read. After reading and not really loving David Foster Wallace’s posthumous and very unfinished “The Pale King” — which, more on soon or Soon — Mitchell’s book made me say to myself: “Now this is what a brilliant writer does.” I am beginning to think he is one of our greats.

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The Help by Kathryn StockettThe Help by Kathryn Stockett
Kathryn Stockett wants to be the first white Toni Morrison.
Status: Not mine to give.

KATHRYN STOCKETT’S “THE HELP HAS,  as I understand it, rocketed up many lists and been beloved by millions and has no doubt incurred the hostility of many others. It is, in my estimation, a really good beach read. It’s a lovable, satisfying book and, despite the assumptions people like me make about popular novels, is not without weight. My primary criticism, however, is that Stockett takes on heavy issues a little lightly. The nearest comparison I can think of at the moment is the movie “It’s Kind of a Funny Story,” which was — to me at least — an irresistibly enjoyable movie about a struggling teen’s redemption-filled weekend with Zach Galifinakis at a mental institution. Not surprisingly, the movie didn’t really address mental illness in all its dismal and difficult complexities. The same is true with “The Help” and race. Stockett knows enough to know that Black and White is not so black and white, but she never dives into the nest of complexities Black and White women must have lived with in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960s. Had she been able to do so, “The Help” might have gone from being truly enjoyable to being downright essential.

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A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer EganA Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan
Jackie is a punk. Judy is runt. They both got disillusioned by the Information Ay-age.
Status: Hey ho, let’s go.

JENNIFER EGAN’S “GOON SQUAD” TRIED TO SOUR ME with opening chapters about a young New York neurotic and an aging record producer whose primary function seemed to be to reminisce about, i.e. name drop, old punk bands. I’m glad I persevered, though, because “Goon Squad” is an exceptional book about aging, identity and remembering. In subtext, the story is about much of what Proust wrote about (Egan quotes him at the opening of the book). In actual text, “Goon Squad” is loosely about music, which is so effective as a vehicle because 1) it is so readily nostalgic for so many people and 2) because it is the form of media that has gone through the most revolutionary and resisted changes as a result of digital technology, a struggle repeated by many of the people in the novel. Egan weaves together the colliding chronologies of a constellation of characters (can you tell the rum is working?) in different chapters, each written in their own distinct style. This is, at times, as obnoxious as it sounds; but for the most part it’s riveting and expertly crafted. Egan even managed to overcome my strong reluctance to predicted technologies of the near future. In a few of the chapters that spin her narrative forward into years that haven’t happened yet, she draws some not so unreasonable logical conclusions from today’s cutting edge gadgets, and doesn’t push the envelope too far in most of her imaginings. A Nine-Inch-Nails song from some uncertain year ahead is called “Ga Ga” in order to appeal to toddlers and infants who can now download songs with the push of  button; this feels a little extreme. Yet, a chapter from the perspective of an adolescent girl in the 2020s is written in some variation of power point slides. Her mother, who we have met before, complains about this kind of writing, and that seems just about right.

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