Getting Back to Business

Although I’ve been reading a LOT, my last few books weren’t really blog worthy.

I finally read Burr in the interest of completing the Gore Vidal American history series, and although it was slightly interesting, it was what it was. A book about Aaron Burr. There were some new insights on Washington, who apparently was a super crappy general, but I honestly have nothing more to say about it. The duel with Alexander Hamilton really wasn’t that saucy.

Then there was Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, which was good fun, especially for the Halloween season. Basic plot here is that vampires are everywhere in America, and they are responsible for the murder of Lincoln’s mother. This spurs a lifetime dedicated to vampire hunting. Vampires, apparently, are also the cause of the Civil War, as they align themselves with slave owners in order to have a buffet of victims without fear of criminal action – provided they pay for them first. And, of course, John Wilkes Booth was a vampire, too. Fun, but that’s really all there is to say about that.

But now, it’s time to get serious again with Zeitoun, by Dave Eggers.

Now, I can’t say enough about Dave Eggers and my unending well of adoration for his work. Although I can take or leave his fiction, he is the most gifted memoirist in the history of the genre. I’ve been raving about Eggers since A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – which is on my all-time personal favorites list. And if you find that self-indulgent (which you should because it is…brilliantly so), What Is the What is far more restrained and beautiful, with none of the self congratulations. It is just an amazing, rich personal story of a Sudanese immigrant who had to go through hell and back to escape a brutal civil war only to find himself in a refugee camp for the better part of a decade, waiting for a chance to immigrate to the United States.

Closer to the tradition of What Is the What, Zeitoun tells the story of a Syrian American building contractor and his family (with the surname Zeitoun), who are living in New Orleans when Hurricane Katrina hits. For my part, I’m pretty tired of the endless parade of Katrina sympathy stories and, frankly, of New Orleans for continuing to bellyache about it six years after the fact. But this book is not about bellyaching. It’s a simple narrative of what happens to this family – there’s no screed against Bush, no winks to the “heckuva job, Brownie” or the “just tip the wing” comments. There’s no commentary about the Superdome. No complaining about the Army Corps of Engineers.

There’s no mention of these things, because they were never seen by the Zeitoun family.

What they did experience was a city that became completely flooded in the days after the storm so that the most reliable form of transportation became a simple aluminum canoe. In the wake of this devastation, Zeitoun sees no emergency responders or public officials. His only encounters with “help” are a couple of National Guard fan boats, who merely blow by Zeitoun in his canoe even though there are dozens of desperate people in the area in need of assistance. In the absence of any “official” response to the neighbors who remain trapped in their homes, Zeitoun starts making the rounds, rescuing elderly or infirm residents by himself or with the help of neighbors. Zeitoun even takes to helping the area’s abandoned animals, feeding his neighbors’ dogs with his own freezer full of meat.

After about a week of this community-organized assistance, Zeitoun is at one of his rental properties with a few friends who have also been helping out in the neighborhood. Out of nowhere, the property is raided by a makeshift band of law enforcement officers packing machine guns. Zeitoun and his friends are all imprisoned in an outdoor kennel-style jail hastily constructed by convict labor on a Greyhound parking lot. The charge? Terrorism. And with no evidence against them, they are held for over a month, without rights, a court arraignment, lawyers, or even phone call to tell someone, somewhere that they have been incarcerated.

The human rights issues aside, the book is most effective when detailing the totally screwed up priorities Americans had at the time of the storm. Or at least elected Americans, because the city’s residents seemed to have their hearts and minds in the right place.

What other conclusion can there be when you learn that the responders who came to New Orleans, under the auspices of helping help storm victims, spent their first days after the destruction building a new prison facility, before providing any food, water or medical aid? How much of what we heard about looting, baby rapes and roving gangs of murderers was exaggerated to fit within a salacious and sensational pre-determined storyline that would “sell” in white suburbia: That poor black people in New Orleans, faced with bad circumstances, would quickly devolve into post-apocalyptic banditos until the city looked more like Mogadishu than the United States? Obviously, officials went to New Orleans with that idea in mind first, and wild media reports kept adding fuel to the fire. And in a climate like that, what’s surprising isn’t that Zeitoun was arrested – it’s that more Zeitouns weren’t.

In the Garden of Beasts, or Gee, That Sounds Familiar

It’s an overused and much abused cliché in modern America to compare anyone that disagrees with your point of view to a Nazi. I’m not about to do that. But after reading In the Garden of Beasts, I can’t help but compare the environment that allowed brown shirts and thugs to take control of a modern world power with our own.

The first parallel is economic. At the time the Hitler government first assumed power, Germany was a busted economic engine, and as the book points out, the U.S.’s primary concern when it came to diplomatic relations was gaining assurances that the Germans would continue to pay off debt held by American bankers. Hitler represented a hope to Germany – a hope for jobs and growth. All of which he achieved … by declaring war on the world.

The second is social. As we all know, Hitler almost immediately sought to build a new Germany by declaring certain people enemies of the state. And although we’re certainly not sending anyone to concentration camps, there was a Presidential debate this week where the notion that an uninsured individual should be locked out of safety net medical care to die was soundly applauded. That charming salvo was followed up by a diatribe on vaccinating women to prevent cervical cancer.

In essence, it has now become ok and socially acceptable to express hateful racism, sexism, classism and a slew of other negative “isms” in public, on TV. Provided of course that it’s associated with “getting America back on track.”

To fail to notice this disgusting downturn in the public discourse is to fall into the same trap our government did when dealing diplomatically with Hitler. In the Garden of Beasts details the daily life of the first American ambassador to Hitler’s Germany. At first, we didn’t particularly care for the Nazis’ social policies, but did believe a new Germany was blooming, and that a basically good thing was happening under the new regime. We ignored all the early signs and sloughed off despicable behavior because we thought ultimately it would subside and economic prosperity would take its place. We were so very wrong.

Similarly today, we let shameful applause lines go without broad public condemnation, saying it’s just a sign of the times or the byproduct of our economy. And that’s true. But just because we’re in a financial pickle is no excuse for a lapse in morality.

And we are talking about morality, embodied in a rhetoric shift that warrants greater scrutiny. Think for a minute how some characterize the notion of “entitlement.” Entitlement is a bad word whenever a foreigner or person of color accesses the social safety net. In those cases, we’re fostering a culture of “hand outs” and creating a “nanny state” when people really should be taking care of themselves. But whenever an English speaking white person accesses the system, entitlements become a reflection of our poor economy and job losses. And Medicare is sancrosanct. So, it’s ok for some of us to use and need the safety net, but not others?

I point out this fact because it was once unthinkable that America could ever resemble Germany in the 1930s. But we’re there. In fact, we’ve gotten so drunk at the Tea Party that complete insanity now looks moderate.

Oh, the Humanity! - Best Disaster Books

With the great quake of 2011 behind us, and everyone gearing up for Hurricane Irene, I thought I’d recommend some good disaster-related fiction for my dear readers, in the event that you want to curl up with one of these tales while you wait for impending doom to pass.

Shipwreck

Life of Pi, by Yan Martel – Pi and his family are zookeepers, who pack themselves and the animals off to sea for a new life in a new country. But soon enough, their ship sinks, stranding Pi on a small evacuation boat with a zebra, a hyena, an orangutan and …a Bengal tiger. You can imagine the results. Or can you? Because the novel isn’t very clear cut. Was Pi really on a boat with animals? Or is the story just a child’s imaginative way of processing disaster? Deciding pretty directly correlates with your view on religion.

Hurricane

Stormy Weather, by Carl Hiassen – Set against the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew, Stormy Weather is hilarious, proving once again that nothing good comes out of Florida. Featuring a fentanyl addicted ex con named Snapper who’s running an insurance scam (or set of scams, to be more accurate), and a cracked ex-Florida governor known as Skink who’s trying to make a point about the Everglades, everyone in Stormy Weather has an agenda. And there actually is a point. Haissen is sarcastic as hell, but there was a ton of profiteering going on after Andrew, and someone needed to paint the picture.

Pandemic

The Stand, by Stephen King – We all know the plot by way of either the novel itself or the now-classic TV miniseries. But decades after The Stand was published, it still stands alone as one of the best novels showing the fear and the very real potential effects of a global pandemic that kills off more than 90 percent of the population. Say what you will about a show down with the devil, but the larger point of the book is to show that people break one of two ways in a disaster – they either try to rebuild or they try to take it all down.

Nuclear attack

Swan Song by Robert McCammon – Basically The Stand, but after a nuclear explosion destroys the entire nation. No devil, per se, but there are some sadistic bastards running around, with the added disadvantage of being sick and deformed by nuclear fallout. Sad thing about this novel is that the focus is on how there is no preparation for this type of attack. Those that burrowed underground to avoid the “Big One” were subsequently entombed there. And those that weren’t have to spend their lives struggling to find basic necessities in a wasteland, competing for resources with roving, murderous gangs.

Plane crash

Lord of the Flies, by Robert Golding – Another one we all had to read in high school, but with good reason. Look around. Are we sure we’re not living in a place free of adult supervision? Because things certainly look to have gone native out my window. To this day, Lord of the Flies is a great source of debate, underscoring some fundamental political divisions in our country. Are we born bad and just have a thin layer of society standing between civility and a flash mob? Or are we made bad over time by society’s injustices?

Breaking Up With Anthony Bourdain

I was a fan of Anthony Bourdain.

I read Kitchen Confidential over a decade ago, and immediately was hooked. Memoir is such an indulgent genre, one that by its very nature lends itself toward self-congratulation. But Kitchen Confidential was different. It struck just the right balance of hilarity, self-criticism and insight. In fact, in the canon of great memoirs, I’d put Kitchen Confidential right up there with Elie Weisel’s Night. The subjects couldn’t be more different, but Kitchen Confidential is every bit as unforgettable and cautionary– when’s the last time you ate out and ordered fish on Wednesday? Point made.

I also enjoyed A Cook’s Tour, the basis for Bourdain’s subsequent TV shows, which also used to be fabulous. I loved Bourdain’s humor, his pirate-y crassness, his unapologetic on-camera smoking, his ascerbic tongue. I also loved his in-your-face presentation of how the real world works – and, by extension, eats. It was a breath of fresh air.

It is because I loved Bourdain so much that I am about to rip him a new one.

He broke the rules.

Like a spouse who gains 100 pounds after having children, or one that suddenly discovers some culty religion 10 years into the marriage, Bourdain has changed. And I don’t particularly care for the new Tony.

I call this the Billy Joel effect. Remember when Billy Joel got married? And what happened to his music? If you’re like me, you remember and adored The Stranger and Glass Houses, and then it’s all a bunch of acapella 80s schlock and commercial jingles. No one wanted to hear Billy Joel sing songs of contentment. His draw was that he was a funny looking malcontent who drank too much, made an ass of himself and documented his self-destructive tendencies in song. We could, in short, relate.

And I believe the seeds of Bourdain’s destruction similarly lie in his new life as husband and father. So this screed was a long time in the making.

Sin #1 took place on No Reservations – the Washington DC episodes. Bourdain has been to DC twice, and both shows are criminally negligent. The first was total cliché, with Bourdain exploring how DC is a city of haves and have nots. Of power brokers, and the desperately poor. Gee, no one knew about that, Tony. Great show! And where does he eat in DC, for the 10 minutes of the show actually devoted to food? Fucking Chadwicks. That’s not a typo. He ate at CHADWICKS! Followed by two places in Arlington – not DC. He does pop over to Mini Bar, which is worth a segment, and eats crabs at the waterfront. But, I’m sorry … CHADWICKS!

The second episode is oh-so-preachy and dedicated to exploring the racial divide in DC. Again, how lazy and obvious? And what are the two great marvels of black cuisine featured on the show? Ben’s Chili Bowl and … wait for it… Busboys and Poets. Did anyone working on this show spend a millisecond actually researching DC? Ben’s has already been on every food/travel show known to man, so it was an obvious choice. But Busboys and Poets? Not so obvious, for obvious reasons. It’s a terrible place! It’s not known for its food, just its heaping portions of pretention.

No references in either show about what makes DC fun or unique. No mention of our diverse immigrant culture, particularly Hispanics. No discussion of our thriving punk scene – and this from a Ramones fan! In an episode devoted to questions of race, go-go – black DC’s self-invented musical genre - is not explored. Nor are places like Colonel Brooks, where upper middle-class black and white eat together in a racially mixed northeast neighborhood. No Komi. No Kaz Sushi Bistro. No Salvadorian food. No DuPont farmers’ market. No. That would have required actually talking to someone who lives in DC and eating somewhere other than a strip mall in Arlington.

Sin #2 was the Haiti episode, where Bourdain sucks off Sean Penn for having the “courage” to live in a tent until all the sins of post-colonialism can be righted. And this is done with a straight face. Sean Penn, who can buy and sell the entire nation, is choosing to live in that tent – almost solely for the purposes of enhancing his wanton narcissism. It’s not brave, it’s bragging rights. “You sent a check to the Haiti relief fund? Well, I went there and lived in tent! I’m better than you! I care more deeply.”

Sin #3 is the subject of this post, Bourdain’s latest book, Medium Raw. This is a hot mess of a “book,” part memoir, part enemies list and part cutting room floor essays from the show. Clearly capitalizing off the Bourdain name, Tony’s editors have become very relaxed, agreeing to publish the disorganized, random musings from an ex-chef with the greatest job in the world. Ability no longer matters. Just throw his picture on the front cover and collect the checks – Tony will be kicking it in Sardinia.

And that’s why I’m pissed. Because he has the greatest job in the world. He… gets… paid… to trot about to exotic ports of call, eat fabulous food, drink like a fish and write about it. So, when you phone it in for a book like Medium Raw, what does that say? You can’t even be troubled to do a job that most people, myself included, would kill for? Are you experiencing my tooth gnashing anger yet?

The problem is that Bourdain has become everything that he once criticized with such aplomb in Kitchen Confidential. He’s become lazy. And he’s buying his own publicity. He has no right to fight with celebrity chefs anymore – he’s just as bad. He just whores for the publishing world as opposed to developing his own line of frying pans.

That’s why it’s positively insulting when Bourdain anoints “heros and villains” of the food world in Medium Raw – without even a passing thought to the irony implicit in demonizing people for exactly the crimes he committed with this lazy, self-indulgent, piece of crap book.

And what’s the point of fighting with Food Network stars anymore? Once it was charming because Tony wasn’t one of them - they were the “other.” But now, The Travel Channel, which carries No Reservations, is owned by the Food Network! He IS a Food Network star. He’s been on Top Chef, seated right next to Tom Colicchio, whom he busts on in the book. What level of cognitive dissonance is required to ignore that? What hubris to think you’re still somehow above it all?

And yet, he continues. This week, waging war with Paula Deen. Say what you will about Paula’s food. Personally, I won’t eat it because I’d be better served nutritionally with a box of Hamburger Helper. But at least she’s not out there calling people assholes for the unthinkable act of earning a living exactly the same way she does.
 

I’m not against making fun of Food Network stars, but prefer it be done by those with the credibility to pull it off. Like the creators of South Park, who nailed it with one Cartman impression of Gordon Ramsay – “Rustic. Simple. Beef Wellington. You can’t COOK, get out of my kitchen!” It’s not nasty. It’s his own words. The comedy writes itself.

And with Medium Raw, Bourdain has made himself a joke. And not just any joke. A joke that he himself wrote, but doesn’t seem to get.

A Feast for Crows: The Weakest Link

No Tyrion, no John Snow and no Danerys. Boo-urns on all that.

Without the most compelling characters in the Song of Ice and Fire series, A Feast for Crows falls flat, and underwhelms after the intensity of A Storm of Swords.

Most of the characters in Crows are minor, and even the main cast is just…well, floundering about. Nothing too terribly interesting happens to Arya in this installment, Samwell spends most of his time on a boat, Brienne wanders around hopelessly looking for Sansa and Jaime goes to Riverrun. Ummmm. OK.

Probably knowing that Crows was not going to live up to the expectations that nearly everyone had after reading A Storm of Swords, George R.R. Martin does provide some bombshells toward the end, including an interesting new truth about Dornish loyalties, Brienne’s sad but faithful end and a bad turn of fate for Queen Cersei.

In fact, without the Cersei chapters, Feast would have been a total waste of time. Well, maybe not total, as the content in this book is setup so you have context for the good stuff that’s supposed to go down in A Dance with Dragons. But Cersei definitely does save this book from being only mildly interesting, and makes it much better.

So, what’s Cersei’s deal? As a narrator, you learn that Cersei is every bit as awful as the other characters would have had us believe all along. She’s been relentlessly plotting and scheming since Game of Thrones, but she’s always had her brothers Jaime and Tyrion and her father Tywin to serve as backstops, keeping her out of hot water when her plots go awry. But Jaime’s fed up with Cersei now that he’s grown a conscience and learned that some of her betrayals were at his expense, and her father is dead. It was only a matter of time before her duplicity bit her in the ass.

Cersei careens from one awful miscalculation to the next. She’s completely paranoid, seeing machinations everywhere. And she’s incredibly self-congratulatory and believes her counter-plots are outsmarting everyone. But the reality is that she’s not as shrewd as she believes herself to be, and she ends up making enemies rather than elevating herself to unquestioned power. In quick succession, Cersei totally screws up Kings Landing and the Lannisters' hold on it, appointing a pathetic counsel to serve as King Tommen’s advisors, stirring up feuds within her own family, turning to shady and dishonest people to form her inner circle and creating a new army of religious zealots not answerable to the Iron Throne. All of which plant the seeds of her own doom.

So, there was that.

Bottom line is that it’s been pretty well documented what happened in the creative process to create both Feast and Dragons – the number of characters and the enormity of the events in Westeros got too big and too complicated, requiring a single book to be split in two. And Feast is basically all the less interesting chapters of Dragons, made into a stand-alone installment.

The result is a book that is clearly transitional. But one that also must be consumed to truly “get” the entire series. Think of it as the broccoli on your plate that you have to eat before you can have dessert.

Books You Just Can’t Read in Public

I do a fair amount of reading in public – in line, on the Metro, at bars or restaurants. But there are some books that you just can’t read outside your house – for a variety of reasons. Below is my list of books that you should just leave on your nightstand.

Sperm Wars – Now, I can’t say enough great things about this book. It’s written by an evolutionary biologist, and I learned mountains about the science that underpins reproductive choices. And about how many of those choices aren’t choices at all, but are instead primordial impulses hard wired into our genetic code. I made the mistake of reading this in public and it was a constant nightmare. Men everywhere see a woman reading a book called Sperm Wars and think it’s some sort of invitation. C’mon, guys! I’m trying to learn something here. I’m not a pirate hooker, and I’m not out looking to be topped off with your seed.

American Psycho – Another fabulous book that has a lot to say about the greed and decadence of the Reagan era. That said, some scenes are so violently graphic that at one point, I had to get off the Metro on my way to work because the book was making me physically ill – I almost whorfed on a packed red line train. You need to be close to your bathroom when you get into this book. The rat scene in particular would make any sane person lose their lunch.

Mein Kampf – Any student of history needs to read this book. But especially in this era of economic woe and flash mobs, reading Mein Kampf out in public is red meat for the anger mill. No one wants to be called a Nazi and start a race riot, so just keep this book to yourself. I have not read this book in public, but it is in my house – I was, after all, a history major in college. Even having it on your shelves at home is a controversial choice. I can’t even begin to describe some of the debates I’ve had over this one.

Fear of Flying – I hate talking to people, especially during my morning commute with a train full of strangers. But when you read Erica Jong in a public space, invariably some 50+ year-old Angie Dickenson type will want to chat your ear off about the zipless fuck. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t care about your opinions and I especially don’t want to discuss sexual politics with strangers. Write a letter to Gloria Steinem, ladies. She’s more likely to be interested than I am.

A Storm of Swords: Wow, Ya’ll!

My “Summer of George R.R. Martin” is in full swing, and I have been spending my time avoiding the sweltering heat wave with A Storm of Swords, the third book in the Song of Ice and Fire series.

Without a doubt, Storm is the best of the books to date (although if reviews are to be believed, A Dance with Dragons is supposed to be even better). It’s all the best elements of the previous books rolled up in a tight, amazing package. Like in Game of Thrones, Martin proves once again that he’s not afraid to murder beloved characters, including major narrators. And from Clash of Kings, we get some incredibly suspenseful battle scenes between the kings contesting for the throne, including one of the most elaborately planned, vengeful and bloody sneak attacks of the series.

Danerys, Tyrion and Jon Snow continue to be the most interesting, elaborate and well-developed characters, but Arya Stark experiences the most intense journey in Storm (literally and figuratively). Arya’s been on the road since her father’s murder in Game of Thrones. Since then, she’s been enslaved, held for ransom by two different bands of outlaws and murdered five adult men directly and two by proxy with a “hired” assassin (all of whom had it coming, by the way). Arya’s completely lost in Westeros, operating all on her own– she’s had to blend in with so many groups and hide her identity from so many people that she bears no resemblance to the noble Starks any more. With multiple aliases she’s adopted along the way, she’s become a savage lowborn outlaw herself, with no name, no home, no money and no family to call her own.

Storm also brings us new central narrators, including Jaime Lannister. By far the most interesting new voice to add to the tale of Westeros, Jaime is a shining example of the complexity of character development in the series. In one book, Jaime goes from an uber villain who pushed Bran Stark out of a window and savagely battled Robb in the Riverlands, to a…well, a sympathetic sort of guy. Things go quite poorly for Jaime in Storm, giving him some humility and tempering his personality so that he is able to care about people other than himself and his sister, Cercei.

By exposing readers to Jaime’s point of view, we learn of his 16-years of guilt over breaking his oath to protect the Mad King, and the mitigating circumstances for Jaime’s killings, which no one ever bothered to learn in their zeal to paint him as a self-serving murder machine. But, in the end, poor Jaime is really just a pawn. His father has tyrannical control over almost all his “official” actions of duty, while Cersei controls the rest by using his love of her as a weapon of cruelty.

Which brings me to the remaining Lannisters: Tyrion and Lord Tywin. Like Jaime, Storm puts Tyrion to the test. He was horribly disfigured in the Blackwater battle at the end of Clash, and now that his father Tywin is back in town, he’s been relegated back to steerage class. There’s no recognition for all he did as the King’s Hand, and instead, Tyrion suffers constant insults and debasements. Why? Because his father, Tywin, is one of the most evil sons of bitches in fiction. Why is Joffrey an insolent, toxic and cruel little boy? Tywin. Why is Jaime so twisted, guilty and emotionally crippled? Tywin. Why is Cercei such a malicious viper? Tywin. Why has Tyrion been tortured and japed at his whole life? Tywin. In the pantheon of bad dads and downright awful people (Darth Vadar, Ryan O’Neill, Jack Torrence, John Phillips, the Great Santini) Tywin tops them all. But fret not, dear readers, because Tywin gets his comeuppance in one of the most emotionally satisfying chapters of the series.

While Game of Thrones was all about power, and Clash was all about protecting turf, Storm of Swords really focuses in on villainy. Villains aren’t born in Westeros, they’re cultivated, either by family or circumstances. And sometimes, whether the actions are vile or not just depends on your perspective – and on who’s telling the tale.

More From the Summer of George R.R. Martin: A Dance With Dragons Sets the Publishing World Afire!

You heard it here first, dear readers. As I predicted a few months ago on this blog, George R.R. Martin is the new toast of the literati. Largely due to the success of the HBO series A Game of Thrones, Martin's 5th book in the Song of Ice and Fire series, A Dance With Dragons, has become the most anticipated book release since Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Want proof? Just check out this story about brisk book sales of all the Ice and Fire books in the New York Times. Or this write up, complete with a customized cartoon in The New Yorker. Or this assessment in the Onion's AV Club. In fact, The Onion seems to heart GRRM so desperately that three... that's right, count 'em, THREE...of this week's lead stories are about the fantasy sensation sweeping the nation. In addition to covering the brisk book sales, they've also covered Martin's blog, and written about how to geek out with his collected works. And you know things have gotten out of hand when the book launch makes it into Time, which dubbed Ice and Fire "the great fantasty epic of our era." CAUTION: If you click on the Time link, be sure you've read A Feast for Crows. I started reading the article and had to stop after I read a HUGE spoiler. I'm still kind of angry about it, to be honest, as I'm still working through A Storm of Swords.

And it's not just book sellers loving Martin right now. HBO owes him a big debt, too, as Game of Thrones walked away from the Emmy nominations with a slew of nods, including best dramatic series.

So, if you're one of the unfortunates that hasn't gotten the memo, this is the new hotness, America. Get your Ice and Fire copies now, because at more than 1,000 pages per book, it's going to take a while to catch up.

The Summer of George R.R. Martin

After Game of Thrones, I quickly started tearing through A Clash of Kings, the second of the George R.R. Martin series.

When we last left Westeros, Dany had hatched some dragons, King Joffrey held the Iron Throne and everyone else was at war to take it from him. Clash of Kings picks up from there, with five different factions fighting for control of the realm: The Starks of Winterfell; the former King Robert’s two brothers, Renly and Stannis; King Joffrey and the Lannisters; and Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. Oh, and Dany is planning to come back to Westeros with her dragons to reclaim the throne her father lost.

The biggest bombshells happening in this installment concern Stannis, who’s hooked up with a bizarre cult priestess and gotten religion. Problem is that the priestess’s god is a malevolent one, who’s given her the power to give birth to creepy shadow demons that can go out and kill people. And she kills three during the course of her travels, including Stannis’s own brother, Renly. Meanwhile, Theon Greyjoy, who’s been a foster child of the Starks since the age of 10 and a trusted friend to all of them, turns traitor, joins in his father’s bid for the realm and ultimately invades Winterfell.

Most of Clash of Kings is set up – everyone’s preparing for the ultimate throw down, recruiting alliances and getting armies in place. So, the bulk of the book wasn’t as exciting as Game of Thrones. But that all changes once the fighting starts, and the last 300 pages are a real roller coaster.

Not only does Theon take over Winterfell, but everyone’s under the impression that he’s killed Bran and Rickon. I say under the impression because the youngest Starks actually do get away and are hiding in the family crypt. But Theon can’t look like he’s been outsmarted by two kids aged 9 and 4, so he finds some villagers, kills them and covers them in tar and pretends they are the Stark children.

Later, after a shadow demon kills Renly, Stannis takes over his army, calls his fleet from Dragonstone, and launches a major invasion on King’s Landing to unseat Joffrey. And what a battle that turns out to be! Akin to the Helm’s Deep fight in the Two Towers, this is a fight of epic proportions.

Tyrion the dwarf and uncle to Joffrey has developed some interesting ways to protect a city with nominal armed forces, including raising a harbor chain across the bay to trap Stannis’ fleet, which they then destroy with wildfire, sort of a cross between Napalm and Jagermeister. The fire spooks The Hound, Joffrey’s vicious bodyguard, who takes off without a trace in the middle of the fighting. Tyrion has to take over The Hound’s command, and gets himself slashed and nearly killed in the fighting – not by Stannis’s men, but by one of his own. And finally, when the battle starts going poorly for Tyrion, his father shows up with a massive army to rout Stannis.

Similar to Game of Thrones, we’re left with a lot of questions by the end. Who ordered the hit on Tyrion? What’s going to happen to Stannis now that he’s been soundly beaten? How will the Starks retake Winterfell and get the Greyjoys back in line? Where’s The Hound and what will he do next? How freaking long is it going to take before Dany gets to Westeros?

Hopefully, we’ll get those answers soon, as I’m already 200 pages into A Storm of Swords. It truly is the summer of George R.R. Martin!

Room – The Collector meets The Road

I hate when I finish a book in the middle of a long trip. But this time, it was rather fortuitous, because at the BWI Hudson News, I spied a copy of Room, which was on my “to read” list based on the write up in the New York Times.

And it did not disappoint.

Room is the story of an intense mother/son bond in one of the most horrific situations imaginable. The residents of the 11 X 11 room are Ma and a small boy named Jack, the book’s five-year old narrator. Ma has been living in the room for seven years, held prisoner as a sex slave by a sadistic monster known to Jack as “Old Nick.” Jack is the terrible byproduct of that imprisonment.

But somehow, mother and son have managed to make a living hell palatable. Even though he’s trapped and can never go outside, Jack’s days are highly structured, with times set aside for exercise, play, reading and crafts. And the two have actually created a unique world with just the basics in their environment. Jack grows attached to things like all children do, but his things aren’t Transformers or GI Joe action figures, they’re more basic items like a remote control, a snake made out of strung together egg shells and the living room rug.

As Jack reaches his fifth birthday, Ma decides that long-term, the room is not going to be a suitable environment for a growing child, and she hatches a plan for escape. This for me was the most intense part of the book, because the plan involves Jack getting rolled up in the rug and playing dead so that Old Nick will take the “corpse” outside for burial. The entire plan hinges on Jack being able to free himself, jump from a moving car and getting help to free his mother. And this is tough because Jack has never been outside and doesn’t know the environment, has never spoken to a single soul other than his mother and is very young and completely terrified.

Miraculously, he succeeds.

Now the challenge is adapting to life in the real world, outside of the room. Jack’s never been in the sun, doesn’t know what grass is, has never been to a shopping mall, doesn’t understand the concept of family and has no idea how to relate to people other than his mother. Meanwhile, Ma is traumatized and clinically depressed after her ordeal, and the family has trouble even accepting Jack considering who his father is.

Much like The Road, Room is a story about the strength of the parent/child bond, which grows stronger and more intense given the magnitude of their circumstances. In fact, in Room, there are points when the bond becomes inappropriate, as evidenced by Jack’s continued breast feeding. But that was basically their only luxury in the room – one another and their ability to express affection.

Game of Thrones – It’s Not Just on HBO

So, I don’t have HBO. But, my husband’s been raving about Game of Thrones for years, and I knew the series would generate a lot of hype, so I decided to check out the book for myself.

Game of Thrones isn’t just a single 800 page tome. It’s one of four, soon to be five, fantasy novels by George R.R. Martin. And from what I can tell based on clips and recaps of the show that I’ve seen, the TV series is limited to the first book of the same name, and has stuck faithfully to the plot – no surprise since the author was an advisor.

If you haven’t read the book, I will give a caveat. The first 80 pages or so are ponderous. Martin goes right into the tale from the perspective of the Stark family, a wealthy lordship that controls the area of Winterfell in the north of a fictional country named Westeros. It takes a while to get interested in them, because the Starks, as the name would suggest, are rather austere and, frankly, pretty boring. Mostly, you just get introduced to the father, Ned; the mother, Catelyn; and their children Robb, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Rickon and the illegitimate son, Jon. About the only interesting thing that happens in the opening of the book is that the children find a dead wolf and a litter of orphaned wolflings - one wolf for every child. So, there’s some heavy handed symbolism going on with the wolves. Which also happens to be the family crest of the Stark family.

Shortly after the wolves are adopted, we learn King Robert of Westeros is coming to Winterfell – his chief advisor, known as his Hand, has been killed and Robert is coming to offer the job to Ned.

Snooze, right? Symbolic wolves and a job offer? But soldier through those 80 pages, dear readers, because as soon as King Robert arrives in Winterfell, we learn in pretty short order that his wife, Queen Cersei, had a role in killing the previous Hand. Later, Bran Stark catches Queen Cersei getting it on with her brother (yes, that’s right, brother!), so the two push the child off a castle tower, crippling him, but failing to kill him. This leads to a separate attack on Bran by an assassin hell bent on cutting his throat, which is barely thwarted by his mother and his wolf.

So, with incest, child murder, conspiracies and intrigue, you get amazingly hooked on the story. In fact, it’s like crack cocaine from that point forward, with a different bombshell going off in every chapter. Who ordered the second attempt on Bran’s life? Is someone trying to kill King Robert? Are the King’s heirs really his? Who should succeed the throne once Robert is finally taken out? How can Queen Cersei get Ned out of the way so that her bratty son Joffrey can assume power unquestioned?

These are all incredibly compelling story lines that converge in interesting ways, keeping readers turning the pages voraciously. But these plot points take a back seat to the stories of two of the most interesting characters in fantasy fiction, a dwarf named Tyrion Lannister and Danerys Targaryen.

Tyrion is the unloved brother of Cersei, who shuns him due to his physical deformities. But Tyrion has managed to survive his family’s scorn and plenty of others in Westeros who would take advantage of his physical weaknesses, generally by outsmarting them. He’s accused of ordering the hit on Bran (although we never learn that’s the truth, as the information comes from an unreliable source), which prompts Catelyn Stark to kidnap him and put him on trial – a trial by combat that he miraculously wins (albeit by proxy). On his way home, Tyrion is ambushed by barbarians, whom he convinces not only to save him, but to join him in battle against the Starks under his own command. The interesting thing about Tyrion is that nothing is a given with him. He’s incredibly complicated, and at different turns is as likely to turn against his family as he is to fight for them. Tyrion understands that when you play the Game of Thrones, it’s best to look out for yourself, and worry about other people and settling scores later. And this goes double if you’re a dwarf.

Danerys Targaryen is one of the two surviving heirs of the previous kingship, which was overthrown by King Robert. Danerys left Westeros as a baby, and has since been living in exile with her sadistic brother Viserys, who sells her to a Mongol-type King named Kahl Drogo. But rather than bemoan her fate, Danerys embraces it, learning to love Drogo as well as the power that comes along with being a barbarian Queen – and does it without losing her humanity. She identifies with and helps save women from abuse, she is kind to her servants and ensures they are treated fairly and she abides by new cultural customs out of respect for her new found people, something her brother never got the hang of. Danerys goes from being a child in the beginning of the book to a fully forged woman Queen who inspires loyalty and earns her place as someone worthy of a proper throne – perhaps even the throne of Westeros.

Although you sound like a Dungeons and Dragons nerd or a LARPer if you speak about Game of Thrones in public, there really is something to these books. Frankly, I find Tolkein incredibly dull and could never get into Lord of the Rings, but Game of Thrones is truly addictive. In part, I think it’s because the themes that make the novels interesting aren’t really driven by fantasy. At the end of the day, the book is about power – who has it, how you conspire to get it, how you retain it – which in my mind makes it much closer to Shakespeare than Baggins.

The Caine Mutiny, or Who Moved My Strawberries?

All avid readers are also second-hand bookstore junkies. It’s the best way to support the habit of continually tearing through books. I regularly visit a few, stock up on months’ worth of reading material and gradually slog my way through each one. Up this month? My 50 cent copy of The Caine Mutiny.

Although I have seen the film version of Caine many times, this is my first reading of the novel. And it’s better. For one thing, you can imagine Keefer as a royal jackass when you’re not seeing Fred MacMurray of My Three Sons. Even though MacMurray appears in the film in full naval uniform, it’s hard to get past the benign, suburban cardigan image, which totally ruins the effect. And Captain Queeg is no Bogart wearing tuxes, running Rick’s Café and undermining Nazis. He’s a simpering, paranoid hot mess.

I won’t belabor the plot, because so many people know it. Queeg is the new commander of a minesweeper, and he’s incompetent. He doesn’t know how to sail, he’s afraid of combat and he sweats small stuff like the status of the crew’s shirt tails while not noticing major issues like the cutting of a tow line. And he really loses it over strawberries, launching a major investigation into a missing quart of them during a combat mission.

The aforementioned Keefer notices Queeg’s shortcomings first, and devotes nearly all his energy into poisoning the crew into disloyalty and rebellion. Which makes Queeg more paranoid and more incompetent. But when push comes to shove and the crew decides it’s time to give Queeg the heave ho, Keefer gets weak at the knees. He wants the captain gone, but he doesn’t want to assume the risk associated with taking a stand and undermining a commanding officer – that’s going to have to be the job of the ship’s second in command, Maryk.

The interesting aspects about Caine are its subtleties. Is Queeg that bad of a commander, or are the men making him weak through repeated acts of disloyalty? Could Queeg have gotten better over time if his officers guided him toward what was really important and helped him succeed? Would the men have rebelled had Keefer not stoked the flames? Is Keefer a victim of Queeg’s incompetence or a villain who sabotages him for sport?

It’s not cut and dry because all those questions could be answered in multiple ways. Queeg has a lot of problems and he’s a bit of a jerk, but with a little bit of effort from a few of the officers, his pain in the ass factor could have been minimized. Or maybe not…no one tries to help Queeg, so we’ll never know whether he was salvageable.

Guilty Pleasures: The Twilight Series

Yes, I read all four of the Twilight books. And, no, I’m not sorry - I actually liked the series. Not to the point of being obsessed like the Twilight dad on the recent episode of Parks and Recreation who handcuffs himself in Leslie’s office to get the books placed in the Pawnee time capsule, but certainly to the point of being entertained.

There’s been a lot of flack about the Twilight books, not all of it undeserved. The main character, Bella, is total milquetoast. Have you ever met a teenager that never drinks, parties or does anything more interesting than (occasionally) go to a movie (all of which were completely age appropriate…no R ratings here!)? Even if you live in the most remote spot in America, no one is that boring – except maybe the Mormons who had a heavy hand in the morality behind the book.

True she’s got the inherent drama of dating a vampire and being best friends with a werewolf, but still. A teenage girl would have girl friends that help her smuggle makeup and tarty clothes into school so she can change into skankwear without her parents knowing. She would have a sleepover every now and again where the ladies sneak out at 10 pm to meet up with boys with cars, booze and cigarettes. Something! If you never push the limits of parental authority, how can you even really be a teenager?

And some of the books were better than others. Twilight, the original, really did get you hooked, and had a taut plot line. Boy meets girl, boy is strange and mysterious, girl is intrigued, boy turns out to be vampire. Cool! Plus, there was the thriller element, with a stray vampire coming to town, taking a shine to Bella as a meal and stalking her. Good stuff. And that vampire employed some pretty good tricks that were suspenseful and fun to read.

New Moon, however, blew taco chunks. The overwhelming majority of the book features Bella brooding and flirting with teen angst suicide because her vampire broke up with her. Bad message – you don’t flirt with death because your boyfriend is gone, and it’s not OK to romanticize depression, Stephanie Meyer. I don’t care if he is her “spirit husband,” or whatever the Mormons call it.

And the last book was just downright creepy. The werewolf “imprints,” aka finds his marriage partner and spiritual soul mate, on Bell’s baby. Yes, a baby. Stephanie Meyer wants us to believe it is true love. I’d call it a lengthy prison sentence. Eeew. And the overall series ending was incredibly weak. The Volturi are supposed to be hell bent on destroying the vampire clan, resorting to any cheap trick possible to justify murder. But in the end, we’re supposed to believe that vampire case before the Volturi was strong enough to convince the corrupt leaders that they were wrong? What?

But still, the books are worth reading. They only take a nanosecond to plow through, so it’s not a hefty time investment. Each book does have its moments, and it’s worth it to have a working Twilight knowledge, if for no other reason than to be in on the joke the next time there’s a reference on 30 Rock.

When Keepin’ It Real Goes Wrong

Sometimes, I venture into the canon of literature to keep it real. Gots to get my learn on so I can make informed judgments in my reviews, after all. But sometimes keepin’ it real goes wrong.

As some may know, I’ve been desperately slogging through the Modern Library’s top 100 20th century novels list since it was published in 1999, and I only have nine left. Now granted, it’s taken 12 years and I haven’t finished yet, but in my defense, to call the list a top 100 is somewhat deceptive, dear readers, since quite a few of the novels on the list are trilogies or quartets (Studs Lonigan, USA, the Alexandria Quartet, Dance to the Music of Time, Parades End, to name a few). And one of the remaining tomes is Ulysses, which would take anyone the better part of a decade to complete.

That said, I continue to soldier on, albeit slowly, with my latest foray into the list, The Ginger Man by J.P. Donleavy. The basic premise is an ex-pat American named Sebastian Dangerfield is living in Dublin and “studying” at Trinity College. Studying is in quotes because Sebastian spends the bulk of his time boozing and avoiding work, which has led to mountains of debt and constant capers to hustle cash, usually from women he’s bedding or trying to bed. And there you have it. That’s about all that goes down.

Allegedly, Dorothy Parker thought the book was hilarious and a groundbreaking example of comic writing. I thought it was the book version of The Pogues’ “Fairytale of New York,” just far more forgettable. (Note, there’s good reason to link the book to the Pogues, since another of Donleavy’s books is called the Fairy Tale of New York and is the basis for the song. Which also leads me to believe that Donleavy is a one trick pony with a consistent theme of Irish drunkenness running throughout all his works.)

In parts, it could be amusing, particularly scenes of Sebastian ducking and hiding from a former landlord who’s been stiffed on months of rent. And I also rather enjoyed parts where Sebastian knicks furniture and other odds and ends from the furnished apartments he rents to sell them at the pawn broker for enough scratch to get wasted. That was sort of punk rock. There’s also a scene where Sebastian’s plumbing fails and tears through the flooring, causing his morning deuce to fall on his wife’s head one level down – if you’re into the more ribald potty humor thing.

As with every book list, the Modern Library has hits and misses. There are some works that I have absolutely loved, but would never have sought out were they not on this list – Portnoy’s Complaint, An American Tragedy, Zuleika Dobson, Ragtime, Scoop and the Prime of Miss Jean Brody are all shining examples. At the end of the day, The Ginger Man falls squarely into the category of mildly interesting, but totally unmemorable. But it has some good company on the list. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell you a single plot point from The Heart of the Matter, Pale Fire, The Death of the Heart or Sons and Lovers, even though I know I read them. But at least it wasn’t as painful as I, Claudius, The Wapshot Chronicles or A Bend in the River, all of which were sheer torture to slog through. And there’s still Ulysses to get through.