did not finish: Upgunned by David J. Schow and Cosmopolis by Don Delillo (audio)

Just very briefly here, because I didn’t get very far into either…

David J. Schow was the screenwriter of The Crow and Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning. These credentials are not terribly meaningful to me, not being a fan of horror movies, but they did give me some hope. Upgunned begins with the perspective of a semi-celebrity photographer of the scuzzy, scummy upper crust – drug-addled anorexics and the like. He is kidnapped and forced at gunpoint to take blackmail photos of a local politician. And then the perspective shifts to the man behind the gun.

The plot premise was mildly interesting to me – I can get into a good thriller regardless of framing elements if it’s done right – but the writing and characters didn’t hold up. I found both early characters a little bit cartoonish and overdone, the society in question was just a little too sickening for my taste, and the writing did nothing to redeem it. Nancy Pearl would be disappointed as I quit just 48 pages in, but I couldn’t motivate any further than that.

This DNF review is based on a galley sent to me by the publisher. Many thanks!

I have fond memories of Don Delillo from his amazing White Noise (and also my buddy Jerko is a big fan and I value his opinions). But Cosmopolis didn’t hold up. (And to be fair, Jerko specifically did not recommend it.) I made it maybe an hour in, which I think should count as 50 pages, if only just. 🙂 The story of Eric Packer’s billionaire troubles while wending his way through the city in his limousine (as pictured on the cover) failed to make me feel anything deep. Delillo’s trademark tone of detached despair is there, but the writing feels a little stilted, a little overdeveloped. Mostly though, I just couldn’t get interested in Packer’s fate.

Am I a little disenchanted and difficult-to-please these days? Hey, it’s possible. We all go through those phases. I will point out, though, that I attempted these two DNFs within a week of reading my two most recent additions to the Best of 2011 list: 11/22/63 and The Home-Maker. So maybe everything else pales in comparison. 🙂 At any rate, I’m sure there’s more outstanding reading right around the corner, and I hope the same for you as well!

Suite Française by Irène NĂ©mirovsky (audio), trans. by Sandra Smith

Pagesofjulia earlier published a guest review of this audiobook by my father. He did an excellent job of telling the backstory, so I’m just going to quote him here.

Much of the impact derives from knowing the author’s own story and how the book came to life. Born 1903, she was a Russian Jewish immigrant to France (1918), converted to the Catholic Church (1939), published numerous works of renown before the war (including one brought to film), was denied French citizenship in 1938 due to Jewish heritage, and has since been criticized for being a self-hating Jew. She was in the course of writing this work as events unfolded, expecting to create a novel in 5 parts. She finished two parts, was denounced by French collaborators and deported to Auschwitz where she died within a month. Many more of her writings were published since the war. But her daughters retained this notebook manuscript, keeping it unread until 1990 due to anxiety over the expected pain of reading her wartime “journal” – only then, before donating the pages to an archive, did they realize what powerful words those pages held. Written 1940-42, it was published in 2004, acclaimed, translated and read internationally.

(I don’t know where he gets his info from, but his write-up appears to agree with what the rest of the interwebs tells me.)

The backstory does indeed increase the impact of this story for me. For one thing, knowing that she wrote without knowledge of how the story ended makes some of her predictions and judgments especially poignant.

I think the most remarkable aspects of this book for me were the beautiful writing, and the tone of dry humor. See my Teaser Tuesday and Book Beginnings posts featuring this book for a few snippets I appreciated. The poetry flowed so naturally and yet painted such lovely pictures, without ever feeling forced. And as for the tone – NĂ©mirovsky does not spare the French, particularly the upper classes. While they are “victims” of the Nazis, they don’t read as sympathetic characters most of the time; see again that teaser post above for some of her cutting satire (and it goes on from there). The Germans sometimes come across more sympathetically, which I found interesting and not entirely expected. It’s easy to denigrate the Nazis, right? But NĂ©mirovsky gives us a truth: these were all just people, elementally.

Perhaps the point that drove NĂ©mirovsky’s story home for me the most – that is, both Suite Française and her own real-life story – was the ending of the book. NĂ©mirovsky’s daughter chose to publish as one book the first two in an intended series of five novels (so says Wikipedia). She also left behind the outlines of the third part. But in effect, this book ends very abruptly to me, leaving many threads unresolved. The abruptness of the ending was of course made more stark for me in audio format – I’m walking along, listening to the book on my earbuds, and then, nothing. What? Is that the END? I had gotten so engrossed in the story – worried about Bruno, wondering what Lucile would do next – that I’d forgotten the similar plight of the author herself (in that her future was being torn apart and eventually her life ended by the same forces at work in the book). So the cutting off of her work in progress ended up telling the same story for me that her book tells within its pages. I found that very powerful.

Suite Française has an interesting story to tell, both between its covers and without. It is beautifully written, humbling, stark and poignant. The same Wikipedia page (above) calls it “possibly the earliest work of literary fiction about World War II.” It’s really something, and you should check it out. But beware unintended cliffhangers.

book beginnings on Friday: Suite Française by Irène NĂ©mirovsky

Thanks to Katy at A Few More Pages for hosting this meme. To participate, share the first line or two of the book you are currently reading and, if you feel so moved, let us know what your first impressions were based on that first line.

I hope you’ll forgive me for using this audiobook for this week’s Teaser Tuesday as well as today’s Book Beginning; it was just too good not to use. I love this beginning.

Hot, thought the Parisians. The warm air of spring. It was night, they were at war and there was an air raid.

Lovely. And sad.

What are you reading this weekend?

Black Mask (audio)

Classic hard-boiled crime stories from the historic and genre-defining pulp magazine Black Mask, in a beautifully performed audio collection.


Black Mask magazine (1920-1951) was a defining force in the pulp-magazine genre of hard-boiled detective stories, and this collection offers five representative pieces for the first time in the audio format. The excellent spoken performances are a rare treat, especially when finding stories of this vintage is in itself a challenge. The masters of the genre are represented in this collection, including Dashiell Hammett, under a pseudonym. Don’t skip the introduction, either: it’s a worthwhile and informative history of pulp magazines, the detective/crime genre, a number of classic authors, and Black Mask in particular. Each story has its own short introduction as well, adding to the value of the collection.

“The Phantom Crook” takes on organized crime in order to free a damsel in distress from blackmail. A case of arson and apparent murder is not what it appears. Another blackmail case threatens to take advantage of a well-meaning but bad-tempered newspaper photographer. A drunken reporter tails a detective into a warehouse district in pursuit of a crook. And in the final tale, a Florida private investigator named Sail, working off his boat, investigates a case of sunken treasure while the bodies stack up. In each story, the gritty, taut suspense is reinforced by an appropriately gruff audio performance.

Black Mask has released a total of three collections of short stories. The following two promise more of the same: dark, suspenseful, character-rich crime drama. Readers of the modern hard-boiled detective/P.I. genre owe it to themselves to check out their roots in these fine examples of detective-noir classics.


I wrote this review for Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Teaser Tuesdays: Suite Française by Irène NĂ©mirovsky

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just open your current read to a random page and share a few sentences. Be careful not to include spoilers!

I am listening to Irène NĂ©mirovsky’s Suite Française on audio, and finding it absolutely delightful. It’s taken me a while to follow up on Pops’s recommendation (see his guest review here), but I believe you’re right, Pops, this one is worthwhile. I had some trouble choosing lines to share with you because so many are so beautiful. Now, this is a longer-than-usual teaser, but you might agree it’s worth it for the wit:

She was proud that she kept her servants for a long time. She insisted on looking after them when they were ill. When Madeleine had had a sore throat, Madame PĂ©ricand herself had prepared her gargle. Since she had no time to administer it during the day, she had waited until she got back from the theatre in the evening. Madeleine had woken up with a start and had only expressed her gratitude afterwards, and even then, rather coldly in Madame PĂ©ricand’s opinion. Well, that’s the lower classes for you, never satisfied, and the more you go out of your way to help them, the more ungrateful and moody they are. But Madame PĂ©ricand expected no reward except from God.

I am amused. What are you reading this week?

The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

I have heard that this was an important, well-written and interesting autobiography. I don’t recall where I heard it, but I made a note and it stuck in my head. So I found the audiobook and gave it a try.

What I learned was a more detailed version of what I knew: Benjamin Franklin was an interesting, hard-working, thoughtful man who helped shape our nation’s history. He was an indentured servant, a runaway, a businessman, an entrepreneur, a diplomat, a politician, an inventor, an author, a militiaman, a scholar and a philosopher, and a father. He invented many items, large and small, that improved the everyday life of people in his time, showing an intelligence and curiosity about how things work that I admire. He was also instrumental in beginning both a school (which became both the University of Pennsylvania, and a free school for poor kids) and a public hospital in his adopted hometown of Philadelphia. He did a lot of good things and had some interesting ideas. He was a moralist, and wrote tracts in which he espoused a “right way” of living.

The style of his autobiography is unfortunately stiff and pompous, though. I think that perhaps the narration of my Mission Audio edition didn’t help. The language in which this book was written is necessarily dated and sounds odd to the modern ear; but if today’s actors can make Shakespeare palatable, for gosh sake, you’d think they could have found a narrator who would bring Franklin to life, too. Instead they went with a sort of whuffling, sedate, staid voice that emphasized not this senior statesman’s timeless wisdom and accessibility – which I think might be there, hidden in the text – but the distance from which he speaks. The long pauses and bombastic tone went a long way towards ruining this experience for me.

I didn’t enjoy this autobiography at all, which was a disappointment. Actually I’m not quite sure why I finished it (Husband asked, and I couldn’t answer); maybe I had that much faith in the long-lost recommendation, or maybe I was just mesmerized by the monotonous narration… I didn’t even get the consolation of learning new bits about Franklin. I came away with the same vague notion of who he was and what his legacy was that I’d started with. For educational purposes, I actually got more out of the “timeline of his life” appended at the end than I did out of the bulk of the book. I feel that the autobiography itself was probably flawed, in that it leans towards anecdotes of little consequence, moralizing, and self-congratulations. But the narration was the final straw. Unfortunately I cannot recommend this book; and if you do decide to seek it out (in which case, let me know if it goes any better for you!), for the love of Dog, avoid the Mission Audio version.

Teaser Tuesdays: The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just open your current read to a random page and share a few sentences. Be careful not to include spoilers!


I’ve chosen you a teaser today from Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography, which I’ve heard repeatedly is worth reading.

I disliked the trade [his father’s, of being a tallow-chandler or candle-maker], and had a strong inclination for the sea, but my father declared against it; however, living near the water, I was much in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to manage boats; and when in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was commonly allowed to govern, especially in any case of difficulty; and upon other occasions I was generally a leader among the boys, and sometimes led them into scrapes, of which I will mention one instance, as it shows an early projecting public spirit, tho’ not then justly conducted.

He then goes on to explain that, needing a wharf to fish off of to keep their feet out of the mud, he and the other local boys – at his urging – purloined some building supplies from a nearby construction site and built themselves a stone wharf. They do get caught.

The Man Who Smiled by Henning Mankell (audio)

My experience with Scandinavian thrillers is very limited, and no, I have not read any Stieg Larsson. Henning Mankell is reputed to be a standard of the genre that Larsson dominates these days. I was curious and hoped to find a new thriller/mystery author so I picked up this audiobook.

Mankell’s serial character, Kurt Wallander, is a detective in the Ystad police force in Sweden. When the book opens, he’s on leave, trying to recover from the experience of having killed a man – justifiably, in self defense, but still. He has just decided to retire permanently when an old friend, Sten Torstensson, appears, begging Wallander to look into his (Sten’s) father’s death. Gustav Torstensson’s death was ruled accidental – a car crash – but Sten believes he was murdered. Wallander refuses to rejoin the police force – until Sten is killed just weeks later. This convinces our detective, and he comes back to work to investigate the two deaths, and the crimes that spiral on from there.

I am not terribly impressed. The case is rather convoluted, but not convincingly so; I am not enraptured by the twisting threads of guilt and intrigue; I am not held on the edge of my seat. The investigation of the crime is drawn out; many pages pass in which relatively little happens. I was impatient at some point to get the thing over with, especially since the reader knows who the bad guy is from the beginning, thus killing the suspense. (Sometimes this is done well, but not here.) Wallander is somewhat developed as a character, but I felt that we were told more than made to feel his trauma, his personal demons, the difficult family relationships he struggles with. (I’m willing to allow that it might help to read the whole series, or to read in order. But then again, I feel that any individual novel should stand alone, too.) There was a certain amount of… well, it sounded like whining to me.

One detail I struggled with: I know that guns are far, far less prevalent in Scandinavia than they are here in my native USA (and my native Texas in particular). But I still have trouble believing that a Swedish police officer, when approached by a man brandishing a pistol – not aimed at him, and with assurances that he means well – would faint. This and other details felt unrealistic to me and took away from my ability to get lost in the story. That, or the Swedish police are wussies?

In one of the final scenes we supposedly learn all the details and backstory and tie up the loose ends, but the explanation of all those loose ends wasn’t convincing to me; it felt unfinished. And forgive me for being jaded – maybe I’ve been exposed to too much hyper-violent stateside crime drama – but Wallander’s deep shock at the depravity of the crimes in this story felt a little bit extreme to me. Again – this is a police officer? Is this really the worst he’s ever seen by an exponential factor?

Sorry for being harsh, Mr. Mankell; I understand you have a devoted following. But either I missed something, or I need to steer clear of Kurt Wallander in future.

The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood (audio)

Margaret Atwood is a master of world-building. This was a great experience: disturbing, thought-provoking, funny, frightening, and completely real.

In The Year of the Flood, we check in with Toby and with Ren, both weathering out the aftermath of the “waterless flood” that seems to have almost entirely wiped out humankind. We’re also treated to a series of flashbacks to their lives before the flood. In that dystopic world, the CorpSeCorps rule a sinister corporate/business/police state, and the Gardeners preach the gospel of the flood to come and their own brand of “green,” vegetarian, wacky Christianity. Toby was an Eve in the Gardeners, and Ren, a former Gardener, was a sex worker in a high-end club. I don’t want to say much more about plot; the constant discovering of new surprises was very special and I want to preserve that for you.

One of the unique aspects of this audiobook was the songs that accompanied the sermons preached by Adam One, the Gardeners’ leader. For one thing, various narrators are employed, which is always interesting; Adam One has his own narrator, so we hear his sermons in his own voice. I found them creepy, but the hymns were creepier still. Music on an audiobook is a great use of the format, and one I’m mostly unfamiliar with. In this case, they helped set a tone that I found overwhelmingly… disturbing. I’m a little alarmed by organized religion to begin with, and pretty sympathetic to vegetarian-hippie-feel-good systems of thought; but this combination of the two was definitely a little bit cultish and perverse. There is an eerie other-worldly feeling to the pre-flood dystopia. And then of course, our flashbacks to that world are interspliced with tidbits of the lonely experiences of Toby and Ren in the frightening new world, where liobams (lion-lambs) and rackunks (raccoon-skunks) run wild.

And speaking of creepiness, can I mention this? One character is a refugee from Texas, which was made unliveable by a hurricane, which of course wins prizes for believability but the flip side of that coin is it’s a little close to home, Ms. Atwood! She does paint an alarming picture of the-world-as-we-know-it, but different.

There are several qualities that make this book special and remarkable. Toby, Ren, Zeb, and Amanda are all such real and fully-developed characters; they live and breathe. The pre-flood world of the CorpSeCorps and the Gardeners is both fantastic and wild and foreign and also startlingly close to home; this may very well be what we’re headed towards, you’ll think as you read/listen. It, too, is well-developed, fully-realized, frighteningly realistic and possible. The pacing of the story builds the tension perfectly; new tidbits are discovered at just the right moments; the tension grows. At the start of the story, we meet both Toby and Ren, each in her respective hiding place and suspecting she’s the last living human on earth; as the flashbacks unfurl, we learn how each ended up where she is. The jumpy chronology adds to the disjointed feeling the book inspires. It’s really just masterfully done. And the audio was extremely well done, too.

I don’t feel I’ve done this book justice. I don’t want to say too much; but maybe too I’m just not up to the task. I recommend Atwood and, as Valerie pointed out, you should read Oryx and Crake before this one as it is a sequel of sorts; although I think it is very satisfying on its own, too. (I did read the former but have mostly forgotten it…) I also want to direct you to Kerry’s review, also of the audiobook, as she did a great job. (Maybe I’m just having trouble following her!)

This is a creepy-crawly, perfectly executed story about the dystopian future we might be headed towards, and the audio is A+.

The Broker by John Grisham (audio)

It’s been a few years since I read any Grisham. (As a kid I remember repeatedly rereading The Client and loving it.) He may not be a genius of proper “high” literature but he can be relied upon for a solid legal thriller every once in a while. In fact this one was rather short on the legal part, more of a proper thriller with elements of international intrigue. It made for a great road trip “read” for Husband and I.

Joel Backman was known as “The Broker” in his former life as high-powered Washington, D.C. attorney, lobbyist and power broker. He had connections, he had the big firm, he had the BIG money, and he was known to be rather unscrupulous in the pursuit of the mighty dollar and his clients’ victory. But when the story opens, he’s six years into a prison sentence, serving in isolation. The outgoing president is convinced by the CIA in the final moments of his presidency to pardon Backman – but not for his own good. The CIA is still trying to answer all the questions relating to the Backman case, and they hope that upon his release, they’ll get to sit back and watch who assassinates him, thus resolving a question of national security.

I’ll leave the international espionage parts vague for now – I could spend all day trying to detail this fairly complicated case. If you go check out this book yourself it will all be explained. For now you should know this: Backman is shipped overseas by the CIA and set up with a new identity as Marco Lazare, an Italian raised in Canada and thus just now furiously studying the Italian language. He eventually ends up going on the run, escaping his CIA handlers, dodging possible assassins of a variety of nationalities, and fleeing back to the US to blow the cover off the security concern involving spy satellites and jamming software.

The techies among us will, I daresay, be dissatisfied with the tech details of the case; I think it’s fairly simplistic and a little dated by now. But if you can put this aside (it’s not sci fi, after all), it’s a fun story of intrigue. We have to wonder along with Backman/Marco where the threat is coming from, who he can trust, and what he should do with the information he carries. What he once hoped to make a fortune off of now endangers his life, and The Broker for the first time is concerned with Doing The Right Thing rather than Making The Buck. The greatest sort of plot development is in Backman/Marco’s growth from The Broker into a decent human being.

Husband was disappointed that there wasn’t more blow-em-up gore and bad-ass action (in other words, Backman is no Jack Reacher). But this is just a slightly different kind of book, that’s all. I found it engrossing and entertaining; it did its job. It’s light reading but as such, I thought it was successful.