Beth's Best Reads of 2011

By now, you all know the drill on this one.  Here's the rules: The books can be any age, but I had to read them for the first time in the calendar year of 2011. No re-reads allowed. The books are listed in a countdown fashion, so my favorite read is at the bottom of the list at #1. I'm also attaching my original review for each book.

2011 was a great reading year, mainly because my friends and family members were suggestion superstars this year, constantly tossing great books my way.  The pickings this year were so good that I expanded my usual list of 10 books to 15 this year. Of course, all these good books made it extra hard to decide what should top the list.  It was especially hard to decide a winner between my top 2 books, but one of them emerged the victor nevertheless.  I hope you enjoy this list, and please be sure to tell me what your favorite reads were this year!

15.  A Month in the Country, by J.L. Carr.  My biggest weakness in fiction is for brief, poetic novels, and A Month in the Country is the perfect example of this type of book.  Carr tells the story of a physically, morally, and emotionally wounded World War I veteran in just a hundred and some pages, but it feels like the stuff of an epic.  What makes this novel so wonderful is the amount of things that go unsaid.  It's what the narrator doesn't tell us that is most devastating, making this one of the loneliest books I've ever read. 

14.  Silk Is for Seduction, by Loretta Chase.  Laugh all you want.  Just as I was losing faith in the historical romance, Loretta Chase's new book swooped in and saved the day this summer.  Marcelline is without a doubt my favorite in a long line of awesome Chase heroines, and her romance with Clevedon is organic and well-deserved.  This is just the first book in a new series by Chase, and if the others are half as good as this one, I will be a very happy Beth. 

13.  I Am the Messenger, by Markus Zusak.  I've made it no secret on this blog that I'm a huge Zusak fan.  His most famous novel, The Book Thief, topped this list last year.  I Am the Messenger is a deceptively simple story about a young man looking to make his life better.  The plot is implausible, but that doesn't matter.  Because this young adult novel is all about what it means to find the courage to change your life.  The narrator, Ed Kennedy, and his friends and family aren't always great people, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve the chance for forgiveness or love in their lives.  I love how non-cynical Markus Zusak is, and I think his streak of humanity is what makes his books so memorable. 

12.  The Family Fang, by Kevin Wilson.  As an unflinching look at the mistakes parents can make in raising their children, The Family Fang can feel a little heavy at times.  Luckily, Wilson finds the humor and warmth in his two protagonists, the screwed-up siblings Annie and Buster Fang.  This novel can make you laugh and wince at the same time, which is no small feat. 

11.  Stranger Things Happen, by Kelly Link.  This book made the list simply for the fact that it contained my two favorite short stories I read this year: "Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" and "Louise's Ghost."  The former is a series of love letters from beyond the grave and the second is an extremely bizarre examination of friendship and jealousy.  I think Link is one of the best short story writers out there, and I really wish she'd hurry up and publish a new book. 

10.  The River King, by Alice Hoffman.  If Neil Gaiman was the de facto master of my 2010 list, then Alice Hoffman has taken his place in 2011.  I went on a Hoffman rampage this summer (see No. 4 below), and even though this isn't her best work, I think it might just be her most evocative.  I've never read a book so deep in mood.  By the book's end, I felt as waterlogged as the drowned boy at the book's center.  Seriously, the pages began to smell like a mildewed dorm room while I was reading them.  Hoffman isn't afraid to go dark, and this book is a testament to her supernatural strengths as a straight-up storyteller. 

9.  A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan.  I was so impressed by the structure of this award-winning novel this summer that I was sure it would place higher on this list.  Unfortunately, it didn't stick with me on an emotional level the way a lot of the books on this list did.  But I still think Egan is crazy-talented, and the construction of Goon Squad blows me away just thinking about it.  The book has some really wonderful and moving chapters, even if it did feel overly clever as whole.  Egan shows just what narrative derring-do can accomplish in contemporary fiction.

8.  My Year of Flops: One Man's Journey Deep into the Heart of Cinematic Failure, by Nathan Rabin.  I've been reading Nathan Rabin's AV Club column on movies that bombed at the box office since my freshman year of college, so I knew I'd eventually pick up the book that came out of those columns.  But what I wasn't expecting was how rewarding an experience this hilarious collection would be.  The first movie Rabin tore apart was Elizabethtown (which just so happens to be one of my least favorite movies ever), and this essay appears at the beginning of the book.  Then, after years of writing his flops column, Rabin rewatched Elizabethtown and found that his life had changed so much for the better that he could no longer mock the film's heart.  The resulting essay from that experience is actually quite moving.  Never in my life did I think the snarky Rabin would make me cry, but he did. 

7.  Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë.  When I read this classic novel back in July, I never thought it would make this list.  I found the whole thing to be batshit crazy.  But you know what?  I haven't been able to stop thinking about Wuthering Heights since.  It features some of the least sympathetic characters of all time - crazypants Heathcliff, bitchy Catherine, annoyingly spineless Edgar Linton.  But the things that come out of these people's mouths ranks among some of the most beautiful sentences in literature, and the book certainly entertained the hell out of me.  Had anyone told me how nuts this book was, I never would have believed them.  I'm glad I finally found out for myself. 
6.  The Marvelous Bones of Time: Excavations and Explanations, by Brenda Coultas.  This strange little book - half poetry and half ghost stories - is unlike anything else I've encountered in recent poetry.  Coultas writes poems about Indiana and its surrounding states using the language of place and time, creating a kind of elegy for the abolition movement in her native Midwest.  The ghost stories in the second part of the book are creepy and elusive, hitting just the right nerves in their brief tellings.  Coultas lurks outside of the contemporary poetry scene, and this outsider perspective does wonders for her work, which is entirely her own. 

5.  A Short Autobiography, by F. Scott Fitzgerald (Edited by James L.W. West III).  Rumors of this book began way back in 2010, and I was literally counting down the days until it came out this summer.  Fitzgerald scholar James West put together Fitzgerald's most personal essays in chronological order, creating the first ever view of Fitzgerald's life as told from the author's own point of view.  This book seems tailor-made for a Fitzgerald fan, and I really appreciate its existence.  The essay "Author's House," a feigned interview between a fictional reporter and a one-time famous writer who is clearly Fitzgerald himself, is particularly heartbreaking and worth the price of admission alone. 

4.  The Red Garden, by Alice Hoffman.  This is one of those books that flies well below the critical radar, which I think is unfortunate.  Alice Hoffman might not be a future classic author, but she creates atmosphere in her books like no one else writing right now.  The Red Garden is immensely entertaining, an unfolding of characters and moments centered on the ficitonal town of Blackwell, Massachusetts.  This series of connected short stories features some really lovely scenes, ones that I've carried around with me since I read the book back in May.  If you're looking for a book that just tells a great story, this is the one for you. 

3.  Crush, by Richard Siken.  Yes, this book has been around since 2005.  But I didn't pick it up to read until this last February.  I should never have waited so long.  This is a truly great collection of poetry.  Violent, erotic, and energetic, the lines in Crush continually knocked me out while I was reading them.  Poems like "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out" feel completely vital to not just contemporary poetry, but to the longer view of poetry as well.  Crush is the kind of book that really exemplifies what poetry is capable of doing. 

2.  The Moviegoer, by Walker Percy.  The second I finished Percy's 1961 novel, I knew it was making this list.  I really, really love this book.  Jack "Binx" Bolling is in the middle of a life crisis just before his 30th birthday.  Unhappy with his womanizing, his constant moviegoing, and his transitory ways, he's forced to reckon with his soul and his lifestyle.  The thing that sets this novel apart from other similar stories is its beautiful writing.  Some of Percy's sentences had my head spinning from their sheer perfection.  The Moviegoer is the kind of short, rich novel that deserves to be savored slowly. 

1.  The Anthologist, by Nicholson Baker.  This short, conversational novel just barely managed to beat out The Moviegoer as my favorite book I read this year.  It won based solely on what it meant to me personally.  Baker's story about Paul Chowder, a poet who agonizes over writing the introduction for an anthology of rhyming poems, is funny and sad in equal measure.  Baker gets into the head of a poet in a way I rarely encounter, and the things Chowder says about poetry are the kinds of arguments poets have been having for centuries.  But whether you're a poetry fan or not, this novel manages to be entertaining in its breezy and fast style.  I read The Anthologist at just the right time in my life, and it's become the best kind of book to read: the kind that becomes a friend.

Back by Popular Request: Zombie-Killin' Literary Characters

Hey everyone!  Remember a couple years ago, when I did my all-time favorite post for this blog?  About characters I would like to help me fight for humanity in a war against zombies?  If you do, then you might've been hoping for a sequel.  And if you're new to this blog, you might be wondering what is up with my zombie obsession?  To the latter, I answer: I have no idea.  And to the former: well here it is!  Five more characters I want to have on my side in the case of a zombie apocalypse. 

Five (More) Characters I Want on My Side in the Coming Zombie Apocalypse

1. Biff Brannon (from The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, by Carson McCullers)  A surprise, right?  But hear me out: Biff is a pretty steady presence throughout this wonderful Southern gothic.  He runs his diner and watches strange things happen all around him, but he seems like he might be capable of the kind of level-headednes that might work in this situation.  Yes, there's all that weird sexual stuff going on there.  Let's ignore all that, shall we?  Give Biff a gun and I bet he could get the job done (as long as shooting people in the head doesn't remind him of a time when his niece actually did get shot in the head).  Also, doesn't every zombie apocalypse feature a scene where our scruffy band of heroes shoots at the living dead from behind a food counter.  We can get that with this guy. 

2.  Bobby Conroy (from "Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead," by Joe Hill, from 20th Century Ghosts)  This choice might seem like cheating since this is a story that features zombies.  That doesn't matter; they're just people in make-up, shooting a George Romero film in Pennsylvania, and Bobby Conroy only comes back from the dead in a figurative sense.  But if you put his ex-girlfriend and her son in harm's way in a real zombie apocalypse, I have no doubt that Bobby Conroy would become the hero he never thought he could be.  So meta!

3.  Ben Mears (from Salem's Lot, by Stephen King)  He's fought vampires, so I think this guy is well on his way to becoming a zombie hunter of the highest order.  Obvious choice, really.

4.  Hareton Earnshaw (from Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte)  What, did you think I was going to go with Heathcliff?  Hells no.  If that guy saw a zombie Catherine stumbling around, he'd be feeding everyone in a hundred-mile radius to her.  Raised largely by the brutal Heathcliff, Hareton has the coldness needed to get the job done.  But if we are to believe the end of the book, he's also developed the necessary pathos to keep his humanity.  Hang those zombies like you hung those puppies, Hareton!

5.  Shadow (from American Gods, by Neil Gaiman)  The least surprising choice, but I don't care.  Shadow is the biggest badass I've ever encountered in literature - haunted and strong, a fighter with a deep sadness.  As soon as I hear even a rumor of a zombie breakout, I'm calling this guy.  It'll be painful for him to kill zombies, with his wife basically becoming one and whatno.  But he'd get over that to help others, I think.  Shadow is nothing if not noble.  And did I mention how badass he is?  Because he's all kinds of badass. 

List Lovers Rejoice!

Book Reviewed: Inventory: 16 Films Featuring Manic Pixie Dream Girls, 10 Great Songs Nearly Ruined by Saxophone, and 100 More Obsessively Specific Pop-Culture Lists, by the writers and editors of the AV Club.

Over New Years weekend, I ended up with a nasty sinus infection. With a high fever and no desire to move, I couldn't concentrate on books with plots or involved writing. Luckily, a friend had just given me the AV Club's Inventory as a Christmas gift just a few days earlier. I could not have read this book at a better time. Lists of bizarre and hilarious pop-culture topics were the perfect thing for my fevered, list-loving mind.

It's no great secret here that I love the AV Club and will read anything they publish. This book actually came out at the end of 2009, but my library didn't have a copy and the big book seemed a little too inconsequential to buy with my hard-earned money. That's why it was a perfect gift: something I'd like but wouldn't buy myself. Inventory is a book for people who know a lot about insignificant things. It's a compilation of lists about specific pop-culture subjects, a collection of the Iventory feature that the website runs every Monday. Lists about things like songs that hate on specific cities, movies too brutal to watch more than once, and books with strange plots make this book a blast to read. Seriously, I had as much fun reading this book as I might have had actually seeing any of the movies listed in this book.

Some of these lists went a bit over my head, talking about bands or foreign films that I have very little knowledge about. But some were just pitch-perfect, making me laugh or think in equal measure. A few of my favorites include "Tell Me a Tune: 26 songs That Work as Short Stories," "Peter Parker Had It Easy: 18-plus Truly Tough Superhero Adolescences," "Superdrunk!: 10 Film Alcoholics Who Sober Up to Save the Day," "Noises Off: 15 Movies with Great Dialogue-Free Scenes," "Night of the Killer Lamp: 22 Ridiculous Horror-Movie Adversaries," and many more. But without a doubt, my favorite list is one that also doubles as the AV Club's memorial to Kurt Vonnegut, "So It Goes: 15 Things Kurt Vonnegut Said Better Than Anyone Else Ever Has or Ever Will." It's a surprisingly moving and wonderful list, one that makes me miss Vonnegut's writing and personality very much. Great job, AV Club! I doubt I've ever read a list that brought tears to my eyes like this one did.


Side Note: Apparently being sick makes me crazy for lists. The other thing that kept me occupied while I was stuck on the couch was VH1's five-part series on the 100 Greatest One Hit Wonders of the 80s. This list kicked some major synth-laden ass. I've been listening to selections from it on Grooveshark ever since.

Beth's Best Reads of 2010

And now for my most anticipated post of the entire year - a look back on the ten best reads of 2010! I love lists and I love ranking books against each other, so it's always fun and frustrating in equal measure to come up with a list of favorite reads. You've probably predicted a good chunk of these, but hopefully there's a few you forgot I even read. Hopefully, something on this list might find its way on your to-read list for 2011.

Here's the rules. The books can be any age, but I had to read them for the first time in the calendar year of 2010. No re-reads allowed. The books are listed in a countdown fashion, so my favorite read is at the bottom of the list at #1. I'm also attaching my original review for each book. Not all of these books are classics or even particularly outstanding, but they all entertained the hell out me in a year when I really needed entertainment. Enjoy!

10. 20th Century Ghosts, by Joe Hill: This short story collection by Hill (Stephen King's son) features some of the most moving stories I've ever read. Some are strictly horror tales, but several others were simply stories about humans being human. "Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead" is a fantastic spin on the zombie tale, where everyone is a living person but finding themselves surprised by their own resurrections. It's a classic tale of regret and redemption. Meanwhile, the story "Pop Art" made me cry my little heart out in its final pages. A moving and beautiful piece on childhood friendship, it surprised me in its surefootedness and emotional complexity. Seriously, if you only read one short story in the next year, make it "Pop Art." It's totally worth every second.

9. Lord of Scoundrels, by Loretta Chase: This was the year I discovered a profound love for historical romance. The sole originator of that love was this book. Considered one of the classics of the genre, it did not disappoint. I'm not sure what makes this book so great, but much of its success definitely lies in Chase's writing, which is witty and charming. Dain and Jessica make an intriguing couple, and the way the book creates such a neat narrative circle in the end made the form nerd in me very happy. This was perhaps the single most entertaining book I read all year.

8. Alcools: Poems 1989-1913, by Guillame Apollinaire (Translated by Frances Steegmuller): The World War I-era French poet Apollinaire has been one of my favorite poets for a few years now, but it wasn't until this June that I got around to reading one his most famous collections. Alcools is compulsively readable, a rare thing for a poetry book. Once I started it, I couldn't stop. Everything here is so strange and beautiful and modern.

7. American Gods, by Neil Gaiman: Gaiman's most famous novel for adults is on this list simply for introducing one of my favorite characters not only of 2010 but of all time: Shadow. Shadow is maybe one of the most perfect creations I've ever come across in literature: a badass who's loyal to a fault, a good guy who can't stay out of trouble. He's amazingly complex, and the scenes where he hangs out in the mysterious town of Lakeside, Wisconsin, are among the coolest passages I've ever read. As a bonus, American Gods became my non-reading brother's favorite book when he read it this summer. He's even talking about re-reading it. Yay!

6. The Hunger Games trilogy, by Suzanne Collins: A three-for-one deal made up of The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay, this young adult trilogy was one of the most flat-out entertaining reads I've ever encountered. I was sucked in from the very beginning. The tale of Katniss Everdeen, a teenager in a ruined, post-war state of government, is violent and extremely bittersweet. The final book featured some of the most pessimistic passages I can remember in contemporary literature. Yet, it's honest and terrible and a truly original reading experience. Awesome.

5. Galveston, by Nic Pizzolatto: Without a doubt, this debut novel by a former DePauw professor featured the best sense of place I encountered all year. The story of a convict and the young woman who travels with him in hiding, it's Southern noir in all its glory. The characterizations are good, the plot is strong, and the writing is incredible. Some of the best descriptions of setting I have ever had the joy of reading.

4. Harmonium, by Wallace Stevens: I spent years hating on Wallace Stevens. He's considered one of the greatest American poets of all time, but I always found him too weird. Well, that's changed. The man is a fucking genius, bar none. His inventiveness with language is playful and profound at the same time. He's a poet that's actually fun to read, and I loved this collection - his first - more than any other book of poetry I read all year.

3. Resurrection, by Leo Tolstoy (Translated by Rosemary Edmonds): Tolstoy is second only to Fitzgerald on my list of favorite writers. He just blows me away every time. This novel isn't one of his most famous, and it definitely has some major flaws, but you can't argue with the way he sets up scenes and cathartic moments. He's a master of quiet devastation, even in the middle of his longest epics. This book, despite all its queasy philosophical inquiries, was a wonderful, wonderful read.

2. Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman: I love love love this book! It was one of my first reads of 2010, and it set the tone for the entire year. It's funny and witty and has some of my favorite characters of 2010, particularly in the love-hating friends Aziraphale (a pretentious angel) and Crowley (a too-charming demon). This book is such a perfect blend of Pratchett's bizarre humor and Gaiman's obsession with mythology that it had to be a winner. Seriously. I could read this book once or twice a year and probably never get sick of it.

1. The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak: It shouldn't surprise any of you that this teen novel takes the lead prize. It's a tearjerker, but it manages to make you cry without being overtly sentimental or treacly. It earns its emotions through its puzzling narrative and strong characters. The figure of Death makes a wonderful narrator, and Zusak uses some fantastic foreshadowing to move his story along. All the main characters have a grace that's admirable and honest. The tale of a girl coming of age in Nazi Germany, it's a book about holding onto humanity in the face of evil, as well as an exploration of the power of language and writing. If you can make it through the end without bawling like a baby, you might not be human. This book is a major accomplishment, and I am so very happy to make it my #1 read of 2010.

Honorable Mentions: Packing for Mars, by Mary Roach; Beyond Heaving Bosoms, by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan; The Help, by Katherine Stockett


Well, I hope you all enjoyed this list. What were your personal favorite reads of the year?

Just Add Zombies: Five Books Re-Imagined

Last year, I celebrated Halloween with one of my favorite posts on this blog: a list of characters who would make great zombie killers. Now, I'm turning to last year's hot literary trend of turning classic novels into horror stories by adding monsters. I'm talking about books like Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I'm not a very big fan of this just-add-zombies trend in publishing, but what the hell, I'm going to try it anyway! So here are five books I've re-imagined by adding zombies. Enjoy, and let me know if you can think of any good zombified books.

1. To Kill a Zombie: Remember that scene in Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingird where Atticus has to shoot a dog with rabies? It's one of the most powerful scenes in an already powerful novel. Now imagine it was a zombie coming down the street towards Scout and Jem. Atticus would regret having to pick up that gun, but he would kill that zombie for sure. And maybe Boo Radley isn't a creep; he's just the one nice zombie in town. He doesn't desire flesh, just love.

2. Zombie Noise: Don DeLillo's postmodern classic White Noise is already a little on the eerie side. The themes of death, fear of death, the absurdity of modern living, and the role of the media could only be heightened by adding zombies. When the book's infamous "Airborne Toxic Event" happens, it could infect the citizens of the super-Midwestern town and make the protagonist's sprawling family a group of extreme survivalists.

3. War and Peace and Zombies: This one's almost too easy. Instead of fighting Napoleon's invading army, the Russian army could wage war against an onslaught of French zombies. All of the book's major scenes could easily encompass zombies. Pierre's continually changing philosophies happen because his opinions about zombies change throughout the book. Prince Andrei dies from a bite in the same drawn-out scenes. Nikolai marries Maria because Sofia's been turned. I'm honestly surprised no one's made this happen already.

4. The Zombie Catcher in the Rye: Holden Caulfied: disillusioned zombie killer.

5. any Faulker novel + zombies: This is embarrassing for a serious reader such as myself. No matter how hard I try and how many of his books I read, I have never gotten into Faulker. Maybe if we add zombies to the mix I might finally find something to like about his books.

Beth's Ten Favorite Short Stories

Apparently, there's been all kind of talk in the literary world about celebrating National Short Story Month. Some writers think that because poetry gets its own month-long celebration in April, then short stories should get the same. And apparently, many are using May as a kind of unofficial short story celebration. So, even though I don't think short stories really need their own month, I've decided to participate in my own way with a brand new list!

I am a big fan of the short story form. A really good short story can have the same emotional punch as a novel or poem, and I often find that my all-time favorite ending lines in fiction tend to come from short stories. Here is a list my ten favorite short stories, in no particular order.

Beth's Ten Favorite Short Stories

1. "Babylon Revisited," by F. Scott Fitzgerald: There's a reason this story is considered the best short piece of fiction written by The Fitz. Fitzgerald really pooled together all his feelings about the end of the celebratory Jazz Age in this one. It's haunting, beautifully written, and humanizes every single character. And the last sentence is a doozy. Soooo good.

2. "A Temporary Matter," by Jhumpa Lahiri: Lahiri is probably the best short story writer of the last twenty years. Her writing is impeccable. If you can read this story about the end of a marriage in the face of tragedy without getting choked up, you might not be human. This story stuck with me for a long time after I finished it.

3. "For Esme - with Love and Squalor," by J.D. Salinger: I've mentioned before how much I love Salinger's Nine Stories, particularly this story. A story about war and peace and memory, it's ridiculously good.

4. "The Sojourner," by Carson McCullers: This story rarely makes it at the top of the list when critics list McCuller's best work, but I'm a huge fan of it. It's got another killer ending line (in fact, the tone of the story reminds me a lot of Fitzgerald's "Babylon Revisited"). I'm not sure why most of my favorite short stories seem to be about men realizing they can't get back their happier pasts, but what can you do...

5. "Pop Art," by Joe Hill: I only read this story a couple months ago, but it's already managed to make my list of favorites. Sure, stories about the loss of a childhood friend are a dime a dozen, but how many of them are about the loss of a childhood friend who happened to be an inflatable person? And how many of them are so wonderfully understated and tragic and wonderful as this one?

6. "Zoanthropy," by David Benioff: There's really no reason why I should like this story as much as I do. Benioff is a good writer, but he's not exactly Hemingway. And then there's all the weird stuff: lion hunters and spying on neighbors and a super-awkward narrator. But for some reason, I enjoy the story so much while I'm reading it that I can't really make myself NOT like it.

7. "The Minor Wars," by Kaui Hart Hemmings: There's really nothing more I can say about this story than I did in a past entry, but obviously, it had to make this list. Like "Zoanthropy," it's one of those stories that I enjoy reading so much it almost hurts. I think Hemmings just hits all the right notes in this one.

8. "Lull," by Kelly Link: This story is quite possibly the single strangest thing I've ever read. It's a story about storytelling, built up around layers of narrative. There's demons and aliens and a kind of haunted house in it, but there's also that beloved theme about wanting to return to an idyllic, if not exactly real, past. The first few pages make me want to write fan letters to Kelly Link.

9. "Murder Mysteries," by Neil Gaiman: Surprise, surprise; Gaiman made the list. Like Link's "Lull," this one is as much about storytelling as it is about anything else. The title comes from its central story about the first murder investigation in heaven, but there's a hell of a lot more than just that going on here. I don't really like heaven and hell and gods and angels entering into my reading life too much, but Gaiman always manages to push all the right buttons. This is one bad-ass short story.

10. Every story in Bring Me Your Saddest Arizona, by Ryan Harty: This is a major cheat since there's eight stories in this collection. Harty's wife, Julie Orringer, is a much more loved author in the literary world, but for some reason, I am more of a fan of this guy. It's probably because this book's stories touch on a lot of my favorite literary tropes - brothers, parents and children, lonely dudes looking to reconnect with their lives; this book has them all. Harty's writing always looks effortless, and his characters break my heart over and over again. The biggest standouts here are "What Can I Tell You About My Brother," "Crossroads," "Don't Call It Christmas," and the extremely gut-wrenching piece about family and robots and death, "Why the Sky Turns Red When the Sun Goes Down." I think everyone should read that last one. It's really quite wonderful.

Well, there you go, everyone. I'm sure I'll be kicking myself for leaving stuff out in the next few days. You can probably check the comments over the next few days to see some additions.

Four Poets For People Who Don't Read Poetry

Poets are an admittedly clique-y bunch. We like to reference other poets and poems in our work, and we tend to stick to pretty academic and art-focused subjects. But occasionally, a really great poet will break out of the mold and become loved by poets and casual readers alike. And if a poet is particularly fantastic, he or she manages to get under the skin of even non-poetry readers. So here are my recommendations for the five poets who might spark the interest of people who don't read or like poetry, including links to the poets' Poetry Foundation pages featuring some of their work.

1. Philip Larkin: I know I constantly rave about Philip Larkin on this blog, and it's for good reason. He's a ridiculously good writer who knows how to play the line between emotional resonance, humor, and a heightened sense of language. He writes about everyday subjects and everyday people because he always saw himself as just another guy, a librarian who happened to write mind-blowingly-awesome poems. Even better (or worse, if you're a Larkin addict like me), he only published four slim volumes in his entire life, so his Collected Poems make for a sweet and satisfying read that won't take longer than a week. If "This Be the Verse" doesn't make you laugh and "Aubade" doesn't stir something in you, I worry you might not be human. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=3940

2. Charles Bukowski: I'm a little wary of suggesting Bukowski, since he's not exactly my cup of poetry tea. But for some reason, a lot of non-poetry-readers love his work. He's super-observant and writes in a conversational style that's easy to read. Plus his work is often so funny or preposterous or perverted that people can't help but be charmed by his down-and-outness. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=924

3. Yusef Komunyakaa: Komunyakaa was one of the first poets I fell in love with. If I had to recommend one book of poetry by a single writer, I wouldn't hesitate to name Komunyakaa's Dien Cai Dau first thing. It's about his experiences in Vietnam, and it reads as beautifully and deeply as Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried or any other war book ever written. It's an absolute must-read for anyone who loves books or humanity. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=3823

4. Anne Sexton: I was a little over-ambitious as a middle-schooler and made Anne Sexton's collected poems the very first book of poetry I read. Yikes - talk about an education. She writes about really angsty subjects: her battle with depression (she eventually committed suicide), sex, and being a woman in a man's world. A lot of people compare her to Sylvia Plath, who ended up being more famous. But you know what? I'd take Anne Sexton over Plath any day of the week. Sexton's a great poet to start with if you are mad at the world and need to find a way to quietly vent. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=6163


I hope this will be a nice starting point for all of you non-poetry people out there. And if you have any other suggestions for good "starter" poets, let me know!

Picnic, Lightning: Ten Books That Make Me Laugh

A couple of weeks ago, I posted my list of ten books that make me cry. So, to make up for that bit of sadness, this week I've decided to share my list of ten books that make me laugh. These are the books that make me chuckle for one reason or another. They aren't all necessarily "funny" books, but they are all written by authors who know a thing or two about being witty.

Picnic, Lightning: Ten Books That Make Me Laugh

1. Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett: What can I say about this book that I haven't said before? It's quite possibly the best example of situational humor I've ever read. Do you know what's funnier than a demon who talks to his house plants in hopes to threaten them into growing faster? Nothing. That's what.

2. Take the Cannoli, by Sarah Vowell: Technically, any of Sarah Vowell's hilarious books could have made this list. But her first book, a collection of charming essays about pop culture and American history and being a nerd, is probably the one that makes me laugh the hardest. Even better, it actually taught me some important tidbits of history. For me, the highlight is the essay "Species-on-Species Abuse," about a trip to Disney World that Vowell took with a friend.

3. About a Boy, by Nick Hornby: The books that are the most fun to read tend to be ones with an even mix of pathos, books with the ability to be funny and sad in a single sentence. Hornby's novel about growing up follows this rule beautifully, with a story that can break your heart in one moment and make you grin like a fool in the next.

4. Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris: Like Sarah Vowell's work, everything David Sedaris writes is absolutely hilarious. But for some reason, of all his books, Me Talk Pretty One Day is my favorite. I don't know if it's because we meet Sedaris's over-the-top brother, Rooster, in this book, or because it contains possibly my favorite Sedaris essay, "Jesus Shaves." I just know this one makes me laugh the hardest.

5. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers: As a teenager, Eggers's popular and award-winning memoir was my favorite book. It's fallen a little bit in rank now that I'm older and a little less charmed by overt cleverness, but I'd still call it one of the best memoirs ever written. It's as sad and smart as its title suggests, but it's also a real tickler at times. The humorous highlights most often come in the interactions between Eggers and his much younger brother. It helps that Eggers writes their funny dialogue with flat-out perfect precision.

6. Lolita, by Vladmir Nabokov: There's a reason Nabokov's oft-assigned novel is so infamous. It takes a really uncomfortable subject - pedophilia - and puts a human face on it. This book is about almost everything - love, loss, life, European vs. American culture - so it's no surprise it's so beloved by critics and lit professors. But few people mention how funny it is. The first handful of paragraphs alone make me giggle. This is actually where I got the title for this list, as narrator Humbert Humbert gives us a short version of his family history: "My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three." It's the kind of humor that makes you feel guilty for laughing.

7. Created in Darkness by Troubled Americans: The Best of McSweeney's Humor Category, by Various Writers and Editors: Before I discovered The AV Club, McSweeney's was my favorite website. Started by Dave Eggers (see # 5), it showcases short pieces displaying a very intelligent and culture-savvy kind of humor. So when the site's editors released this collection, I quickly snatched it up. It did not disappoint. Once again, it's the kind of humor that only certain people feel comfortable with. Like this.

8. Our Mutual Friend, by Charles Dickens: Without a doubt, this is my favorite Dickens novel. It's also considered one of his darkest and most mature. But for some reason, anytime the amazing character of Bradley Headstone comes on the scene, I start cracking up. He's a terrifying psychopath, sure, but his actions are so crazy they border on funny. Honestly, this book probably makes me laugh because I am so appreciative of what Dickens does in it, not because it's actually humorous.

9. The Bald Soprano, by Eugene Ionesco: The first time I read this famous absurdist play, three years ago for a lit class, I continually stopped to read passages out loud because it was so damn funny. It was only after I finished the book and began to write a paper on it that I realized how horrifying it actually was. It's a scrambling of language and sense meant to show our lack of identity and communication. But holy shit, is it amazingly laugh-inducing. Bobby Watson, anyone?

10. Superfudge, by Judy Blume: What can I say? Maybe it's incredibly immature of me, but I can't help but giggle anytime I think of Fudge's myna bird yelling, "Shut up, Stupid!" to everyone it sees.

Bring Him Back: Ten Books That Make Me Cry

Remember how I said this would be a week to celebrate sad books? Well, here it is. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the ways art emotionally affects me. I can easily sit in a movie theater and be the only dry eye in the place, or I can be the girl crying when no one else is. The difference comes in the way emotion is handled by the writer or director or artist. Basically, there is nothing I hate more in art than being emotionally manipulated. If it seems like a scene has been constructed solely to make me weep, I resist it as much as possible. I want my emotion to come from some deep and honest place. I want tear-jerking scenes to come from unexpected moments that make sense to the characters and the plot. Basically, I want to feel something based on what I imagine the characters actually feel as people rather than constructions. I don't like it when the author seems to make me want to feel something. I'd rather that not be his intent at all. I rather like to think my crying might surprise a writer.

Anyway, these are the ten books that make me cry because they are well-constructed, nicely written, and true to their characters' emotional cores. And I might add that, because I cry so rarely over art, if a book really gets me choked up, it tends to automatically become one of my favorites.

Bring Him Back: Top Ten Books Books That Make Me Cry

1. A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving: This one gets me every time, and it's also where we get the title for this list (it comes from the final line, which makes me bawl just by glancing at it). You know from the book's very beginning that the titular character of Owen Meany, the narrator best friend, is doomed. But that still doesn't keep me from crying the entire way through the last 80 pages. In fact, when I read the last chapter for the first time, I was crying so hard in public that a woman stopped to ask me if I was okay. It's not Owen's death or life or otherworldliness that makes me cry. It's the way the narrator, John, is completely unable to overcome his grief even twenty years later. Dead best friends tend to me my #1 fuel for tears, and this book is the primary example.

2. The Road Back, by Erich Maria Remarque: I still remember the first time I read this book. It was a couple weeks for Christmas and I was stuck at home on a snowday from high school. The entire day became a marathon to finish this book. I read the last 200 pages in five hours, and I leaked about 200 tears along the way. The narrator's inability to cope with the fallout of fighting for the German army in World War One is haunting and painful to experience as a reader, and by the time the book comes to an end, you feel like you were right there with him and his former comrades.

3. The Things They Carried, by Tim O'Brien: War books in general tend to make me pretty emotional (part of that whole dead-best-friend thing). But it's not the many deaths or cruelty of warfare that gets me in O'Brien's autobiographical stories. It's the idea that Tim - the narrator and the writer - is using writing to heal his wounds years later. At the end of the book, Tim talks about a childhood friend who died when he was very young and how he made up stories to keep her alive, the same thing he is doing now as a veteran. The book ends with a simple but heartbreaking statement that can make me weep for hours.

4. Gilead and Home, by Marilynne Robinson: I won't keep you too long on this two-for-one. Robinsons' quiet and uneventful writing makes me cry as much as the profound sadness of her characters' lives does. When I read Gilead for the first time this summer, I tear-soaked the library's copy. Then, a couple months later, the final few pages of Home did the same thing. Robinson never manipulates her readers. She's as brutally honest and simple as they come.

5. Bring Me Your Saddest Arizona, by Ryan Harty: This story collection, the first book from a writer who I think has been extremely overlooked in the last decade, might just be my favorite set of short stories out there. Every single story in here is so carefully put together and realistic. I feel like I know everyone in this book. Which is why even the smallest things in it can make me cry. But his most famous short story, the much-anthologized "Why the Sky Turns Red When the Sun Goes Down," is the saddest of them all. If you have ever put even a moment of thought into parent-child relationships OR robots, expect this one to cut you deep.

6. Mystic River, by Dennis Lehane: Trust me, the book is way better than the movie (although I was actually a fan of the movie version). I can make it through the movie in one piece, but when Lehane gets to the big reveal at the end of his novel, I can't help but break down. He does an excellent job of showing how childhood trauma cuts so deep that it can completely destroy the present and future. Great plot, great characters, and a great emotional climax.

7. Atonement, by Ian McEwan: Both the film version (which I actually saw first) and the book make me cry equally as hard. Like The Things They Carried, McEwan's well-loved novel really explores what it means to be a storyteller dealing with tragedy. When I finally cry at the end, it's not because of what happens to doomed lovers Robbie and Cecelia. Rather, it's what happens to little Briony Tallis, who grows up and writes a book that cannot take away from her own horrible guilt. The fact that she can absolve everyone but herself in fictional form is really the emotional core of this book.

8. The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton: Another dead-best-friend book. Admittedly, Hinton is a little bit emotionally manipulative in this book, what with the Robert Frost-quoting and all. But that doesn't take away from how it feels to be a 12-year-old reading the book for the first time and having your stomach pulled out through your eyeballs because of the emotional rollercoaster the book provides.

9. The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman: The other kind of well-worn theme that makes me verklempt is the "child grows up" story. At the end of Gaiman's fantastic children's novel, Bod becomes a kind of "real boy," forced to leave behind everyone he loves and face the world for the first time. Meanwhile the reader realizes that his guardian Silas, a vampire who really shouldn't feel much of anything, is as torn about the leaving as Bod is. Gaiman makes really grown-up emotions accessible to everyone in just a few short pages.

10. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling: Yep, I'm one of those suckers who cried all the way through the battle at Hogwarts. Especially when certain characters die (*cough*FredLupinTonks*cough*). I'm only human, people.

Literary Matchmaking

You can blame it on a mix of Jane Austen, PBS, and Valentine's Day. Although I've never paid much attention to V-Day (my parents don't really celebrate it, so I never grew up with much respect for the holdiay), it's hard to ignore it completely. So I already had love on the mind before I watched the conclusion to Masterpiece Theater's latest version of Austen's Emma. Misguided Emma Woodhouse is the great matchmaker of literature, and even though she is not as clever at it as she might suppose, she's still famous for her romantic machinations. So she inspired this particular list: literary matchmaking.

Here's how it works. I take two single characters who could use a little excitement in their lives from two separate books (often books from different decades, even centuries), and put them together. This is just a tiny list, but it gives you a pretty nice view of my messed-up literary viewpoints. Just call me the match.com of obscure made-up people. Oh, and be careful - spoilers abound!

1. Cecelia Brady (from The Last Tycoon, by F. Scott Fitzgerald) and Gabriel Gibbs (from The Season of Lillian Dawes, by Katherine Mosby): Call this couple "the loveless narrators." Cecelia, the narrator of Fitzgerald's unfinished critique on Hollywood, harbors a buried crush on protagonist Monroe Stahr while watching him struggle as a producer. Gabriel Gibbs, meanwhile, watches the dramatic love story unfold between his genius older brother Spencer and the mysterious Lillian Dawes, even though he is also in love with Lillian. Cecelia and Gabriel are perfect for each other, with their voyeuristic tendencies and unrequited loves. Not to mention that their author-creators have very similar writing styles.

2. Bryon Douglas (from That Was Then, This is Now, by S.E. Hinton) and Briony Tallis (from Atonement, by Ian McEwan): This is a relationship built mainly on guilt. At the end of Hinton's novel, poor Bryon is unable to cope with his regrets over ruining his best friend's life by getting him thrown in jail. And Briony Tallis might well be one of the guiltiest guilt-trips in contemporary literature, destroying the love affair and lives of her sister and her sister's doomed lover. She attempts to redeem herself by writing a version of their story with a happy ending, but it's no real help to her own torment. Hopefully, these two can find some redemption in each other. Also, look at how cutesy-similar their names are! (On a side note: If you haven't read the book or seen the movie version of Atonement, do so ASAP. I'm not sure there's a better or more dramatic depiction of how writers use others to their own advantages only to find it an impossibly painful task. Also, the narrative techniques used are masterfully-done.).

3. Severus Snape (from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling) and Mary Bennet (from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen): I know, I know. It's a stretch. But come on! Two people who act as if it's their duty to bring down everyone around them could not be more perfect for each other. Both of them are so unpleasant, and yet you can't help but feel quite sorry for them as people. Put these two together, and I think you'd be surprised at the chemistry that might explode. It might be a little tense at first; they might even hate each other. But what's that Shakespeare line? "My only love sprung from my only hate," or something like that? Exactly what would happen here, I think.

So what about all of you, readers? Any literary matches you can imagine?

Beth's Top Five Fictional BFFs

Right now, I'm reading Anne Tyler's new novel, Noah's Compass. It's okay so far, but it's centered around a lonely, somewhat self-centered older man. It makes me miss the camraderie between angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley in last week's read, Good Omens. Missing my love of a good literary friendship, I began to think about my favorite friend characters in some great books. So this list is centered around that friend; that wonderful side character who anchors his or her best friend to the world around them.

I must note that I did not include fictional friendships that don't work out, even though that means I had to get rid of some heavy hitters (including John Singer from The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter). Rather, these are the BFFs that make the world better - not worse - for the protagonists.

1. Razumihin (Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoevsky): Admittedly, it's been about seven years since I read C&P, but the thing that still sticks with me all these years later isn't the tortured protagonist, Raskolnikov. Rather, it's his trusty BFF, Razumihin. While reading the book, I was struck by how down-to-earth Raz. was in such a high-brow book. Reasonable and with a much better sense of humor than his friend, I enjoyed the book a lot more when he was around. Also, I always thought his relationship with Raskolnikov's sister was kind of adorable. So there you go. I just called a plot point in Crime and Punishment "adorable."

2. Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison (Just as Long as We're Together and Here's to You, Rachel Robinson, by Judy Blume): I had to include all three friends since they take up a couple books where they switch the protagonist role. Judy Blume was the most formative author of my childhood reading experience, and her depiction of the friendship between these three junior high girls really shows how friendships work at that age. It helps that the friendship between the three reminded me of the BFF threesome I was part of when I read these books more than a decade ago. Also, one of those real-life friends was totally the living, breathing version of the Rachel character.

3. Hand (You Shall Know Our Velocity, by Dave Eggers): Eggers has always written friendships really well, but the relationship between Velocity's protagonist Will and his co-traveler/BFF Hand is probably the best example. Hand can be annoying at times, to both Will and the reader, but he's loyal to a fault and provides some nice comic relief. And in certain editions of the book (there are several, actually), he gets his own 50-page section in the middle where he completely reverses everything we know in the book so far. There's a few lines in this section where Hand goes to clean out Will's storage unit that completely break my heart every time I read them.

4. Bruno (The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss): Nicole Krauss is a deplorably under-valued contemporary writer (and, in my opinion, a much better novelist than her more famous husband, Jonathan Safran Foer, who I strongly dislike). In The History of Love, protagonist Leo Gursky has only one real connection left in the world: his friend from childhood, Bruno. As the book goes on, we learn some shocking things about this friendship that don't at all take away from the poignancy of the friendship between two boys who grow up and become lost, figuratively and literally.

5. "Dill" Harris (To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee): There's really nothing you can say about Dill that hasn't already been said. The epitome of a childhood friend, Dill is loyal and funny and brave. Knowing he was based on Harper Lee's actual BFF as a kid, Truman Capote, only adds to his charm.

Beth's Best Reads of 2009

Well, everyone, it's that time of year when every pop culture website and publication comes out with its Best-Of-The-Year lists. So, here's another one! These are the eleven best books I read this year. They are from all sorts of years and writers, encompassing fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. There were two guiding principles in the making of this list: 1) the books had to be read in the calendar year of 2009, and 2) they had to be first-time reads (no re-readings, which usually make up about half my reading selections in any given year). Reading-wise, this was a great year, and I hope to make next year just as great.

Beth's 11 Best Reads of 2009 (in order from great to greatest):

11. My Antonia, by Willa Cather: When I read this book for an American lit class, I didn't expect to like it so much. I can't really explain why this novel made such an impact, but I think it's because of the way Cather writes so proudly of the prairie and the small town her characters inhabited so many years ago. Not to mention all the sad but earned nostalgia involved, something that always seems to get to me as a reader.

10. The Good Thief, by Hannah Tinti: This book isn't particularly insightful about the human soul or human connections, but it IS fun and entertaining. This American Dickensian tale about a 19th-century orphan and the strange cast of characters surrounding him had me sneaking reads at any available moment, all in the name of some good plotting and a nice central mystery.

9. Men in the Off Hours, by Anne Carson: Carson's book of hyper-intelligent, allusion-heavy poetry isn't for everyone. But the literature-loving student in me adored it. Special props go out to the book's poems about Edward Hopper, Tolstoy, Anna Ahkmatova, and Lazarus.

8. The Rest is Noise: Listening to the 20th Century, by Alex Ross: Okay, okay, so technically I haven't finished this book yet (I'm about 2/3 of the way through), but it WILL be finished by December 31st, and it's such an enlightening, well-written history of 20th century classical music that I had to put it on here.

7. Home, by Marilynne Robinson: Nobody does the domestic, small-town novel like the amazing Robinson. This book, a companion to Gilead, touches upon familal connections in the astute, intelligent, and extremely humane way that only such a fine author could create. Gorgeously-written and paced slow as a snail, it's not a book for lovers of plot and adventure. But by the end, it left me in well-earned, bittersweet, unmanipulated tears.

6. Stop-Time, Frank Conroy: We read this memoir in my final college seminar, and I absolutely loved it. Conroy writes honestly about his hardscrabble, strange childhood, and he does it all without ever feeling sorry for himself or wallowing in misery. Instead, the book is very funny, beautiful, and full of glory and pain in equal measure.

5. Persuasion, by Jane Austen: Based on the recommendation of a major Austen fan who claimed it was her favorite book by the author, this made a wonderful summer read. Slight and charming, it features my now-favorite Austen male character, the upright and romantic Captain Wentworth, letter-writing extraordinaire.

4. Spooner, by Pete Dexter: At first, this novel grabbed me because it was so funny and well-written. But somewhere in the middle, it also became a very honest portrayal of the relationship between a man and his stepson. It's a tribute to Dexter's agility as a fiction writer that he can place a theme of connection in the ways we try and fail to love others smack in the middle of a humorous novel complete with ugly dogs, bar fights, and neighborly disputes.

3. The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman: I read this children's novel during a single weekend this spring just for fun, and I had no idea it would turn out to be such a fantastic experience. Gaiman is an extremely gifted storyteller who writes loving and humane tales even in the midst of ghosts, vampires, and villains. A funny, absorbing, and occasionally heartbreaking read.

2. Philip Larkin: Collected Poems, by Philip Larkin: I've gone on and on about Larkin all year, and it all started in March, when I bought and read his collected poems (of which there is a surprisingly small amount) all in one week. Larkin writes about everything - life and death, love and grief - with equal intelligence, wit, and grace. I recommend him to everyone, poetry readers and non-poetry readers alike.

1. Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson: This is an extremely non-surprising win for those of you who've kept up with my blog since this summer, and there's really nothing more I can say about it. Except this: It's one of those books that made me extremely proud to be human. Absolutely wonderful.


Honorable Mentions: Love Medicine, by Louise Erdrich; Coraline, by Neil Gaiman; The Autobiography of Red, by Anne Carson

Top Five Words of 2009

As you can probably guess, I love words. I love their meanings, the sound of them, how they look on paper. So it's no surprise that every year a handful of words completely absorb me. Here's the five words that got under my skin in 2009. Feel free to add your favorite words of the year in the comments below.

Top Five Words of 2009

1. susurrus - noun: soft whispery sound; There is no question this word is my most beloved of '09. There's so many things to love about it: the way it sounds, the squashed way it looks on paper, the fact that pronouncing it makes it sound like its own meaning - This word rocks! And, to no surprise, I fell in love with it because of the way it was used to wonderful affect in Gilead.

2. litany - noun: repetitive recital, almost like a listed prayer; Given in the right context, this word is absolutely gorgeous. Unfortunately, it tends to be overused as a synonym for a tedious telling of a story or list. That makes me sad; I am totally reclaiming this pretty and sacred word for the purpose of heartbreak and beauty only.

3. eyesore - noun: something unfortunate to look at; This is a word I've heard a million times. But lately, its existence has really gotten to me. I mean, think about it - isn't this a supremely weird term? And yet it's so descriptive and painful and affective. I can't help but like it.

4. fallow - adjective: not used, often used to describe plowed or unused fields; This word also sounds a bit like its meaning when said aloud. I've always thought it sounded like the words "field" and "shallow" thrown together, which is exactly what it means. It's a word that sounds so nice in poetry or pastoral prose.

5. fiduciary - I have to admit I don't actually understand what this word means. It has something to do with trusts and money and blah blah blah. But for such an important-sounding meaning, the word sounds completely ridiculous. It has the sound "oosh" in it!


So there you go, the five words of Beth's year. I hope to incorporate them all at least once this week.

Seven Literary Things I'm Thankful for This Year

In honor of this week's Thanksgiving, I decided to do a list appropriate for the holiday. Here is my list of all the book-related things I am super-thankful for in the year 2009.


1. Marilynne Robinson - I'm not sure any other author's prose has had such an affect on me ever. Her writing is so perfect that it's devastating. Even better, Robinson's three novels - Housekeeping, Gilead, and Home - are some of the finest things I've ever had the pleasure to read. All of them are full of truth about life and cover so many important bases (life and death, tragedy and hope, guilt and redemption). Robinson's the first novelist since I was in high school to have such a profound affect on me as both a writer and a person.

2. The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman - No more needs to be said about this book than I've said here a million times before. I'm thankful this book came around at the time it did because it's entertaining and funny and bittersweet and everything I needed during an emotionally confusing time.

3. Anne Carson interacting with Anna Akhmatova in Carson's "TV Men: Akhmatova" - Probably the most important literary discovery I made this year was my newfound love for women writers. I spent years preferring the work of men, but for some reason, as I've gotten older and realized just how much being an independently-minded woman means to me, I've found that female writers are much closer to my own voice . Being able to read a poem where Anne Carson, contemporary critic and poet, carries on a kind of dialogue with Anna Akhmatova of what it means to be a female writer taking part in a pained society, really meant something to me.

4. This blog's first annual Fitzgerald Week - I don't know about you guys, but I had a blast with September's week-long celebration of my favorite writer's birthday. F. Scott Fitzgerald is The Shit, and I was sooo happy to celebrate his work with fellow readers.

5. Confessing my love for fanfiction - It's been a secret passion for a couple years now, but this summer I finally realized that I could admit I loved reading fanfiction, consequences be damned. I'll say it again: I love fanfiction, especially the Supernatural Brotherhood AU series I mentioned a few months ago.

6. Pete Dexter's prose in Spooner - I wouldn't call Spooner a favorite book necessarily, but man, was it a fun read. I'm extremely envious of writers like Dexter, who can manage to make you laugh and cry with a single simple sentence. He's not the master prose artist or truthteller that Marilynne Robinson is, but at the time I read it, Spooner really took me out of my own life, which is exactly what good fiction should do.

7. Philip Larkin's Collected Poems - How could I call myself a poetry fan without Larkin in my life all this time? After buying his Collected Poems on a lark (heh), I couldn't stop reading it. His stuff is simple and hardly says anything groundbreaking (unlike, say, Rilke, who is ridiculously original), but the way he presents his work through rhythm and meter and heightened language is extremely admirable. Plus, the man knows how to make an emotional gut-punch in his endings like no other.


I hope you all have a lovely Thanksgiving and are thankful for your own literary moments this year. Feel free to share them below!

Zombie-Killin'! Ten Characters I Want on My Side in the Case of a Zombie Apocalypse

For those of you who don't know, my biggest fear in life (after heights and choking) is the possibility of a zombie outbreak. Zombies are scary and, in my opinion, a lot more likely to happen than you might think. But if zombies are one of my biggest fears, then the opposite also holds true: There are few things I love more than some real, honest-to-God zombie killing! While watching the very funny and entertaining movie, Zombieland, a couple weeks ago, I really got into the parts where characters wipe out waves of the walking dead with nothing more than a gun and clever human thinking. It got me thinking. I mean, what would I do if I found myself in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Easy: I'd get a super-awesome team of zombie-killers together to fight our way through the new world order.

Of course, as always happens with me, this led back to books. There are some literary characters I would really really really want on my zombie demolition squad. So who are these lovely and capable fictional folk? I'm glad you asked. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Rorschach (from Watchmen, by Alan Moore): Moore's super-violent, strange, and interesting creation would be the perfect zombie fighter. He wants to defeat evil, and anyone whose read the graphic novel could tell you that he's not afraid to go to horrifying extremes to show someone who's boss. If I were a zombie, all I'd have to do is see his masked face and my head would explode.

2/3. Denisov and Dolokhov (from War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy): Okay, I'm cheating a bit here by including two very different characters from the same book. I've always had a bit of a soft spot for the unlucky, speech-impediment-addled Denisov, but by the end of the book, he proves himself a smart and capable soldier. I have no doubt he can do what it takes to get the job done. Dolokhov, meanwhile, is something of a magnificent bastard. Unpleasant, greedy, and just a plain old jerk, Dolokhov's black heart would never let sentiment or emotion get in his way of killing zombies. Is that his friend Anatole over there munching on some peasant meat? Bam! He didn't even like the guy that much anyway...

4. Allan Woodcourt (from Bleak House, by Charles Dickens): The literal epitome of brave and useful, Woodcourt would no doubt prove useful during a zombie outbreak. He already heals the sick, comforts dying orphans, and marries girls with pockmarked faces. And now, he can add Zombie Killing Machine to his resume.

5. Jordan Baker (from The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald): Yes, I know, I seem a bit obsessed with Jordan Baker. But that girl always comes off as tough as nails, and she can swing a mean golf club. Also, she already cheats at her chosen profession and gets paid for it, so she'd have few moral dilemmas about shooting a zombie Daisy Buchanan in the face. Although by the end of Gatsby, she probably wouldn't have a problem shooting HUMAN Daisy Buchanan in the face either.

5. Captain Wentworth (from Persuasion): Yes, crush-worthy and zombie-war-worthy both. The Bennett sisters might be the zombie-fighting Austen characters to grace Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, but us real Austen readers know that Captain Wentworth is the one to put your money behind. And, you know, if the post-zombie-apocalyptic world required some repopulation, Wentworth would be nice to have around, if you catch my drift...

6/7. Silas and Bod (from The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman): Silas, with all his vampiric powers and desire to protect those he loves, would make a truly awesome adversary for the undead. And Bod, a tough kid who's used to hanging out with the (un)dead, would be a fantastic sidekick, if only Silas would let him. These two have fought off some truly deadly foes in the past (human and ghoul alike), and they could do it again in a heartbeat.

8. Taylor Greer (from The Bean Trees and Pigs in Heaven, by Barbara Kingsolver): Kingsolver is one of the few writers who can create a female character that is rough and tumble without being annoying. Taylor Greer can fight with the best of them, and she is fiercely loyal to those on her side (but if you piss her off, it might take you a while to get back in her good graces). If she became part of your zombie-killing crew/family, you can bet she'd have your back every moment.

9. Otto Köster (from Three Comrades, by Erich Maria Remarque): Truthfully, nearly all of Remarque's characters would make pretty great zombie killers. But Otto always struck me as particularly right for the job. A great friend of the highest order, he watches out for those around him while still being bad-ass. And our crew could always use a sweet car like his, the beloved racer "Karl."

10. Casey Jones (from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles): Okay, so I definitely got this from watching the original live-action movie and not a book, but it's my list, so he stays on it. While watching the movie, a friend told me she thought Casey would prove extremely useful in a zombie apocalypse. She's right. He wants to punish evil (in this case, the evil dead), and like Jordan Baker, he knows his way around deadly sports equipment. One swing of his hockey puck to a zombie's head, and we'd be on our way to winning the war.


I hope you all enjoyed the list. Please sound off below and let me know who'd you want on your side during a zombie war!

What Real Boys Never Live Up To: Beth's Top Ten Most Fervent Literary Crushes

One of the best things about my new job - besides the nice discount on books and the occasional free latte - is that it once again puts me in the land of the living. When I was job-hunting, I spent most of my time alone with only two fighting cats for company. But finally, I am once again taking part in proper social interaction. Of course, this means I am once again thrown in the middle of men I find attractive but unattainable (and occasionally, attractive but unfortunately-mannered). I am prone to the occasional infatuation, but nothing quite lives up to the crushes I develop towards literary characters. It might be unhealthy, but I can't help but constantly fall in love with these wonderful creations. I hope as I present my all-time favorite literary loves, you will spend some time thinking of your own. And who knows? Maybe you have a top-ten list, too...



Top Ten Literary Character Crushes

1. Jax Thibodeaux (from Pigs in Heaven, by Barbara Kingsolver): When I first read Pigs in Heaven about seven or so years ago, I fell head over heels in love with this man, protagonist Taylor Greer's live-in boyfriend. This sensitive rock musician adores his girfriend, writes songs with the aid of Taylor's adopted daughter, and grieves for the many things he has lost. Jax is funny, self-deprecating (well, to be honest, he actually has low self-esteem), and seemingly talented. More importantly, he wants nothing more from life than to be near the ones he loves. It sounds corny, but Kingsolver makes him as imperfect as the rest of us. And I don't know why, but I love the cracks in Jax's character as much as I love the flashes of perfection.

2. Kerry Holiday (from This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald): You might remember this name from my Fitzgerald-related list a few weeks ago. For some reason, I often collect doomed characters as literary crushes, and Kerry is the prototype. From the beginning, it's easy to desire his friendship and attention, with his strong sense of humor and easy-going attitude. Plus, he's as luckless in love as a certain book-obsessed blog writer, so he gets double points. But then, less than halfway through the book, we find out he dies in World War I. And really, I should have known all along from the moment I decided I liked him.

3. Prince Andrei Bolkonsky (from War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy): I admit it seems a little strange to develop a crush on a character from one of the longest and most serious literary achievements the world has ever known. But in the literature class I took last fall where we studied War and Peace, the professor asked the girls in the class (for the purpose of comparing Tolstoy's constructions of different characters) if we found Prince Andrei - handsome, intelligent, restless, and doomed - attractive, we were all quiet for a moment. Then suddenly, one by one, we began nodding our heads and fumbling our words. The professor just smiled; point made.

4. Dan Needham (from A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving): Dan is a lot like Jax in the simple fact that he's a bit of a cliched nice guy. He loves his almost-stepson, narrator John Wheelwright, as if he were his own, and he always stands up for people who need help. Plus, he has red hair and is a bit of a nerd - never a bad thing in my book. So while Dan may not be the most exciting literary creation of all time, he's certainly one of the most decent and loving.

5. Captain Frederick Wentworth (from Persuasion, by Jane Austen): Okay, have you seen the letter Captain Wentworth wrote to his beloved Anne Elliot while only sitting a few feet away from her? Wentworth makes me ask, "Darcy Who?" Check and Mate.

6. Atticus Finch (from How to Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee): That's right. I have a crush on Atticus Finch. He's the most respectable man who probably ever graced a page. I don't care if he's older or too interested in doing what's right to be up for much dating. He represents everything that is good in humanity, and that's what makes him crush-able.

7. Gottfried Lenz (from Three Comrades, by Erich Maria Remarque): Another doomed figure, which seems to be Remarque's specialty. I've actually carried a torch for quite a few Remarque characters, as they often are so full of grief and shock that they bring out all my dumb instincts to hug and make cookies and repair holes of humanity in the wake of World War I. Lenz, however, is never less than charming: funny, intelligent, a lover of poetry and beer. He's a goodtime guy haunted by memories of war, and when he gets caught up in the post-WWI political movements (Lenz is anti-Hitler; he seems to be more of a communist), you know it can only turn out badly.

8. Mason "Mace" McCormick (from Tex, by S.E. Hinton): In my Hinton post from a couple weeks ago, I mentioned that I often fell for her super-responsible older brother types. Mason is probably my all-time favorite Hinton creation. He's torn between taking care of his younger brother and getting the hell out of his home time, possibly through a college basketball scholarship. He worries so much he even develops an ulcer. But Hinton refuses to make Mason particularly sympathetic. His temper often gets the best of him (his first real scene in the book involves him beating the shit out of his little brother, the titular narrator), and he's so serious sometimes that he never looks twice at a girl or a painting or even a movie. But the final few chapters of the book reveal a complex teenager who simultaneously wants nothing more than to take care of his brother and himself at the same time.

9. Scripps (from History Boys, by Alan Bennett): I love History Boys. It's about damaged people doing often horrible things based on what they believe. In one scene, as the teachers and students talk about the Holocaust, several characters voice that it's a situation so far beyond factual comprehension that talking about it in terms of historical "interest" is grotesque. And the play works this out on a much smaller level, with both idealism and cynicism raging war against each other. It ends up as a war that no one wins. And stuck in the middle is amiable, God-fearing, "nice" Scripps. It's hard not to feel bad for a guy who sees everything but is pretty much too weak-willed to keep anything from happening. At the end, when we learn that he might never get to be the kind of writer he wants to be, it feels even sadder than it should. So why do I have a crush on him? I have no idea, but that never stops me when I read the play, watch the theater version, or see the movie.

10. Peter Hatcher (from Superfudge and other books, by Judy Blume): Peter Hatcher was my very first literary crush, way back when I was seven years old. For those of you who don't know, Superfudge was the "book that changed my life." It cemented my love for reading, and when I read it the first time, I knew I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. I wanted to share stories with people who would love them as much as I loved that book. I over-identified with Peter when I was a kid. I thought I had an annoying brother, and so did he. He was smart but largely normal, which I thought I was. We would have been good friends had we known each other. And now, weird as it may seem, I often wonder what he'd be like now. After all, now we'd both be mature adults making our way in the world without our siblings under foot. Hmmm...I wonder if he's single...

" 'Good Old Kerry' and All That Rot": Top Seven Favorite Fitzgerald Characters

To fit with the Fitzgerald theme, this week's list is all about my favorite Fitzgerald characters. Fitzgerald is responsible for creating some iconic American characters (Jay Gatsby, Tom Buchanan, Monroe Stahr, etc.), but he also gives life to charming secondary characters and over-earnest narrators as well. In this list, I will present my favorite Fitzgerald characters, the people with whom I'd love to party on someone's sloping green lawn. They're not necessarily his most complex or necessary creations, but they are all awesome in their own ways.

1. Kerry Holiday, from This Side of Paradise: Here's where this entry's title comes from. Kerry plays a very small role in this book as protagonist Amory Blaine's best friend at Princeton. The gray-eyed, humorous Kerry easily makes friends (all though its his "goodness" that keeps him from getting girls), but he is doomed from the very beginning. He only gets a handful of scenes and he's dead less than halfway through the book, but Kerry makes an impact on a lovelorn reader like myself. And he just so happens to be one of my biggest literary crushes.

2. Tom D'Invilliers, from This Side of Pardise: Tom is Amory's other best friend, and unlike Kerry, he actually gets to live through the entirety of the book. Tom's a lovesick, melodramatic poet when Amory first meets him, but by the end of the book, he's become a bit of a literary sell-out, more cynical and worldly than we ever could have imagined him at the novel's start. In my opinion, his character arc is as important as Amory's. And best of all, Tom is the author of the poem Fitzgerald quotes in the epigraph to The Great Gatsby. It's hilarious how often people mistake that poem and poet for reality.

3. Jordan Baker, from The Great Gatsby: Fitzgerald's most famous novel has an impressively small cast of characters, and Jordan originally appears to be one of the least important. This female professional golfer isn't necessarily likeable - she's rumored to be a cheater, she's surprisingly cynical, and the fact that she's friends with Daisy doesn't do her any favors. But damn if I don't like her spunk! And even more importantly, her doomed relationship with narrator Nick Carraway reveals the levels of disillusionment both characters experience in the face of Gatsby and the Buchanans' wealth. I think Jordan and Nick's break-up scenes is one of Fitzgerald's most poignant, and you can expect to see it quoted here later this week.

4. Cecelia Brady, from The Last Tycoon: It's a little hard to include a character whose book isn't even finished (Fitzgerald died less than halfway through), but I really like Cecelia. She sees everything as the narrator of Tycoon, carefully watching the rise of movie producer Monroe Stahr, and witnessing the obvious trap her father, another rich and successful producer, is clearly planning for him. In some of his notes for the novel, Fitzgerald maps out a tragic path for Cecelia that is even sadder in the wake of the book being left undone. Plus, Cecelia is a huge departure for Fitzgerald: a female narrator.

5. Burne Holiday, from This Side of Paradise: That's right. Another Holiday. Burne is Kerry's brother, and one of the few extremely rebellious Fitzgerald characters. A hard-core socialist, Burne starts some big trouble at Princeton and makes a very interesting foil to the laidback politics of students like Amory, who are more interested in the social aspects of education. Later in the novel, we find out that Burne has been missing for years after school, having possibly gone underground as a communist. You can't help but feel bad for the poor Holiday parents: one son killed in war and another missing on purpose. That is a 20th century tragedy.

6. Nick Carraway, from The Great Gatsby: Nick always makes me ridiculously sad. His disillusionment at the end of the book always strikes me as 20 times more tragic than Gatsby's extravagant life and death. He's just an over-eager Midwestern boy who thinks he finds friends and social stature and even a girlfriend on the East Coast, only to end up going back home damaged and alone. Nick is also a perfect narrator, seeing everything and affected by everything. A great creation that never gets enough credit.

7. Charlie Wales, from "Babylon Revisited": Charlie is hands-down Gatsby's most depressing (yet deserving of redemption) character. A recovering alcoholic and widow, Charlie goes to Paris to talk his in-laws into giving him custody of his daughter again. Charlie wanders lost around a city where he used to be king, now wanting nothing but his family back. This is considered Fitzgerald's best and most famous story, and it's a wholly deserved mantle. Charlie and his tale are absolutely devastating.


Happy Reading, everyone, and enjoy the rest of Fitzgerald Week!

Beth's List of Top 10 Beach Reads

Today, a friend's blog called my attention to a new list put out by NPR on the 100 Best Beach Reads. Obviously, I immediately counted how many of the 100 I had read (21, in case you're wondering). I really enjoyed prowling through the list and trying to figure out why people would want to read certain books on their vacations that most people never attempt in their lives. I actually found out that War and Peace had made the list of 200 finalists. War and Peace! It's one of my favorite books and I still wouldn't make it my personal beach read. The list gives a glimpse into the reading lives of Americans (well, the kind of Americans who listen to NPR anyway), and I found it very interesting.

But, to be honest, my first thought upon seeing the article was simply, "Holy crap, do I love lists!" So in honor of that lovely self-reflection, I decided to make my own reading list today. I decided to make my own beach reading list based on 10 years of family summer vacations spent being a beach bum in Hilton Head, South Carolina. These are the books that I became attached to as someone who loves the ocean breeze as much as she loves book. So here you go, Readers Everywhere: Beth's List of Top 10 Beach Reads.

1. The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald, edited by Matthew J. Bruccoli: Short stories make great beach reads, particularly in the lazy evenings after dinner, and Fitzgerald always reads like a summer night to me.

2. The Season of Lillian Dawes, by Katherine Mosby: I don't know exactly what it is about this book that I like so much. The writing is lovely and the story (about hidden identies, inheritances, and brothers) is solid if not exactly exciting or hugely original, but this book is equally perfect poolside AND when stuck inside the beach house during a storm.

3. The Complete Poems of Theodore Roethke: Poems always read better outside, although I've never understood why. This book includes "The Storm," a great poem about the ocean.

4. You Shall Know Our Velocity, by Dave Eggers: Eggers's conversational style and ability to be emotionally satisfying without becoming cloying or sentimental is perfectly suited for vacation. And this book, although it had me nearly in tears occasionally, was a great escape as it followed two guilt and grief-laden travelers through many adventures and lies.

5. Assassination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell: A perfect vacation book that's part-travelogue, part-history. I learned more from reading this book on the beach than I learned for half a year in my high school American History class, and Vowell is the funniest and most charming writer around, in my opinion.

6. The Perfect Hour: The Romance of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ginevra King, His First Love, by James L.W. West III: A brief, interesting, and sad read about Fitzgerald's first failed love affair. I don't know if it would be interesting to anyone but Fitzgerald fanatics such as myself, but I thought it was an extremely satisfying beach read.

7. Emma, by Jane Austen: I don't know how much of this has to do with the book's charm and how much it has to do with my love for George Knightley. Part of me was hoping he was living in the beach house right next door the entire time I was reading it...

8. Pigs in Heaven, by Barbara Kingsolver: Okay, okay, I admit I didn't actually read this book on the beach (I read it largely in my parents' living room). But it was the only Kingsolver novel not on the NPR list, and because it has always been my favorite book by her, I felt greatly offended. This book is fantastic, and it's home to my biggest literary crush of all time: Jax Thibodeaux

9. Three Comrades, by Erich Maria Remarque: I apologize for this entry, being that it's the most depressing book on this list. But this long, enjoyable, and well-written book about friends and fellow German soldiers after World War I sustained me not only through a rainy vacation week, but the long car ride there and back as well.

10. Sea Swept, by Nora Roberts: That's right. A Nora Roberts book. I confess I do enjoy a good romance every once in a while, especially when I'm somewhere hot, lazy, and with lots of access to winecoolers. Deep down, even an NPR girl like myself is a little trashy.

I hope you enjoyed the list, and I really hope you all have had some amazing beach reads of your own! Happy Reading!