Books, You Guys!

I might do a full review once I've digested a bit, but I really cannot say enough how amazing this book was. So, SO good.

This was a reread for me, but it was just as much fun as the first time!

I would have liked to give it 1 star, because it was honestly effing terrible. But my inner 14-year-old won't let me.

It took me two days to get through the last 50 pages of China Miéville's The Scar. Not because I was bored, or because the story was particularly impenetrable, but simply because I did not want the book to be over. I did finish it, however. And for a good ten minutes after the last sentence I found myself staring into space, stunned and cut adrift and wishing for another 50 pages. When I eventually sat down to begin this review, I realized that I had no idea what made the book so amazing.And that's Miéville's magic. His prose is chaotic and distinctly purple. His characters are often under drawn, brought into the story for a few brief moments before being sacrificed under the wheels of the frenetic plot. And yet he rarely introduces anyone who isn't instantly fascinating, and all of the deaths seem to mean something. Somehow, he always seems to make it work.I'm getting ahead of myself.The Scar isn't a sequel to Perdido Street Station, although it takes place in the same world and Miéville includes enough winks to Perdido to keep us nerds happy. The story follows a handful of New Crobuzon refugees and criminals who, after their ship is commandeered by pirates, find themselves press-ganged into a new life in the strange city of Armada. The story is primarily told by Tanner Sack, a criminal and slave who has been offered redemption in a new home; and Bellis Coldwine, a fugitive translator who always seems to find herself near the center of Armada's varied and bloody intrigues. Bellis is an interesting character. She's presented from the beginning as cold and unemotional, an image she seems to put a lot of work into cultivating. Of course, we find that she's not so cold as she seems, but we're still mostly spared from the angst and self-deceit seen in so many "heroes" of fantasy. We're also told almost nothing about her background, and certainly nothing that doesn't pertain directly to the story at hand. She's nearly a cipher at first glance- an impression helped by the book's emphasis on her profession as a translator- but as the story moves she becomes incredibly compelling.And if Miéville gives us so little on the protagonist, the supporting cast is even less detailed. The characters are drawn in broad, impressionist strokes that do more through implication and imagery than lesser writers do with chapters of backstory and description. Every character serves a purpose, and you can generally count on anyone who is introduced by name having an important role to play somewhere down the line.The plot, for all its complications, is tight and quickly paced. As the press-ganged find themselves wrapped in layer upon layer of conspiracy and betrayal, the reader finds themselves handed threads of plot at almost dizzying speed. But just as Miéville only describes his monsters in bits and incomprehensible pieces, he keeps the reader just informed enough to be unable to see the big picture. When he finally does sideswipe us with a revelation, it always makes perfect sense.The economy of plot and characterization give Miéville room to do what really makes his stories special. His world is a mishmash of genres often described as "science fantasy" or, in his own words, "weird fiction". Steampunk airships coexist with elemental magic and Lovecraftian monsters. There are pirates and spies and scientists and wizards, and an impressive variety of original races and settings.Miéville describes all of his creations with obvious glee, occasionally losing control of grammar in his enthusiasm. He makes up for these missteps with his seemingly limitless imagination and energy- the reader hardly has time to be upset about a misplaced comma when pivotal moments and incredible inventions are flying past them on every page.And yet, the world of Bas-Lag is a hard one. There doesn't seem to be any such thing as an innocent man, and ordinary citizens are constantly finding themselves caught up in the machinations of ruthless leaders and unfathomable powers. Much like any good fantasy, The Scar is less about Miéville's lunatic world and more about the way people struggle and adapt and somehow survive. His honesty about the human condition lends a very real edge to the story- it would be hard to accuse him of shying away from difficult topics or showing his readers (or his characters) any undue kindness.All of the things that make The Scar interesting are things that could cause other books to fail entirely. The fact that Miéville has managed to put them together into such an incredibly good read makes him one of the most exciting writers I've come across in a long time, and a refreshing addition to the genre. Whichever genre it is.

Jonathan Lethem's As She Climbed Across the Table is two books in one: a parable about love and obsession, and a sharp satire of academia. It is narrated by Phillip Engstrand, a sociology professor who talks entirely too much. Phillip tells us the story of Lack, a hole in the universe opened by an accident of physics, and of the various academics who find themselves drawn in by it (pun probably intended).Phillip's lover, Alice, is one such academic. She is a particle physicist who is entranced by what she perceives as Lack's personality- that is, his preference for some objects over others, and his seeming rejection of her. As the story progresses her obsession becomes more pronounced and more painful, sending ripples of cause and effect through Phillip and the entire campus as our protagonist tries first to win her back, and then to simply understand.As She Climbed Across the Table was billed in most reviews I read as a satire, and it certainly is. At times, in fact, the satirical elements of the story seemed heavy-handed to me, as though Lethem was just wallowing around and being impressed by his own cleverness. And make no mistake- Lethem is definitely impressed with himself. His writing is showy almost to the point of being irritating, if you're the sort of person who's irritated by that kind of thing. He uses obscure words where perfectly common ones would have been more effective, and his characters occasionally turn into nothing more than mouthpieces for his witty dialogue. When he succeeds he is dazzling, as with some of his subtle reminders that academia always ends up eating itself, and there are enough of these successful moments to keep the reader going. His points are often brought home by the secondary characters, most of whom are more charming and interesting than the protagonist. I was always glad to see Evan and Garth, Lethem's blind Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, make an appearance. I also saw the book billed as a comic novel, but I honestly didn't see it. There are lines and situations that made me chuckle, sure, but they didn't seem to live up to the "laugh out loud hilarious" reviews I'd read. If no one had told me I wouldn't have known that the book was supposed to be comic. Perhaps Lethem didn't know either.The second level of the novel, the part that gets lost, is a story of the people on campus and how they are affected by Lack's arrival. This is the story I thought I was going to be reading when I opened the book, and I ultimately ended up sad when it wasn't there. It covers all the bases- the selfish nature of being in love, obsession, self-image, etc.- but ultimately in what feels like a very shallow way. More than once I found myself wishing that the story was told from Alice's point of view or, honestly, from anyone but Phillip's. But, alas, the book was never supposed to be about this story. It's merely a vehicle for the satire.As She Climbed Across the Table reads very quickly, and for that reason alone I'm not sorry I read it. Had I invested more time, I probably would have been a lot more annoyed. Read it if you enjoy satire more than the average bear, or if you're looking for something quick to fill the space between other books. At the very least it managed to pique my interest in Lethem's other books, and I'm hoping that in his later works he manages to live up to the potential this one showed.

Anyone who's seen an episode of Freaks and Geeks should know what to expect from Paul Feig's memoir Kick Me: Adventures in Adolescence. And maybe that's the problem.Feig is certainly good at self-deprecation, and equally as good at getting to the heart of all of the things that make being a teenager so horribly difficult. Many of short essays that comprise the book hit so close to home that I found myself wincing- who hasn't been terrified of taking their clothes off in the locker room, or can't relate to hours spent agonizing over how best to start conversations with the opposite sex? They're familiar stories, almost comforting in parts- if only for the reassurance that someone else has been there too.But the challenge to telling a familiar story is to make it fresh, and this is where I felt Kick Me fell short. There were quite a few moments that lacked impact simply because I was expecting them, often from the very first sentence of the essay.The humor seemed to suffer from the same issue. A lot of the jokes seemed like I had heard them before- on Freaks and Geeks. There were plenty of turns of phrase and situation that made me chuckle, but very few had me laughing out loud- and a couple even had me rolling my eyes, I'm sad to report.The sections of the book that really shone all seemed to come from Feig's childhood, rather than his adolescence, and I can't help but think that maybe that's a function of having heard too much about his teenage years already. I'd love to see Feig take on some different subject matter; perhaps it would bring some of the life to his writing that Kick Me seemed to lack.It's an entertaining book, but ultimately forgettable. Pick it up if you're looking for something light to read on an airplane or in the bathroom. But if you're looking for gut wrenching, laugh-out-loud tales of teenage woe, watch Freaks and Geeks and give Kick Me a pass.

I'll be honest. More than one person pressured me to read Christopher Moore's Lamb, and the reasons they gave for why I would like it- that it's hilarious, that it gives Christianity a round roasting- were exactly the reasons I wasn't interested.As a former Southern Baptist, I feel like I hardly need anyone to help me see all of the ways in which Christianity falls short. And so much religious humor comes across less as...well, humor, and more as mean-spirited and bitter.Lamb, I'm relieved to say, manages to transcend the cheap shots and deliver a warm, affectionate send-up of the Gospel As We Know It while sneaking in a few lessons along the way.The story follows Jesus and his best friend and staunchest protector Levi-who-is-called-Biff through the notoriously unreported first 30 years of the messiah's life. As Jesus (known here as Joshua) navigates the muddy waters of being the Son of God, Biff journeys with him- learning his own lessons about life and love and often carrying out the morally gray tasks that a Son of God simply cannot, no matter how necessary they may be. We all know how Joshua's story ends, but in this case the joy is all in the journey and not the destination.In fact, the story loses some of its steam once Biff and Joshua make their way back home, with the ending in particular feeling somewhat rushed. Moore doesn't seem to quite know what to do with Biff or with poor Mary of Magdala once they've gotten Joshua where he needs to be, and it shows.Nevertheless, Lamb has plenty to offer. There's a great deal of fun for theology dorks, a few genuinely heart-warming moments, and enough hilarity to keep the reader going through the shakier patches of story; in the end it somehow all manages to pull together to make an excellent read.