I can’t believe how long it’s been since I last did a book post – apparently my last one was in February, so now I’m playing catch-up.
(This post contains affiliate links: book titles are linked to my Amazon Affiliate ID.)
* This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz. A series of short stories centered around the life of Yunior, a Dominican American young man living in Jersey – a womanizer, a cheat, a lover and a fighter, an asshole with a tender core. I found it irresistible the way Diaz played with my sympathy and my revulsion for Yunior, as he loved and lost and lost and lost. The juxtaposition of his depth and insight and loneliness with his shallowness and frequent contempt for women felt honest and real. Of course now I have to go find and read the rest of his work, including the Pulitzer Prize winning novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.
* A Girl Is a Half-formed Thingby Eimear McBride. A very strange book whose stream of consciousness narration begins in the womb, with a fragmented and grammatically chaotic writing style, following the thoughts of a girl through her terrifying childhood, and through her tumultuous and heartbreaking adolescence. I was not surprised to read that the book was inspired by a reading of James Joyce’s Ulysses, which I haven’t actually read myself but I’m familiar with its style. A lot of people find A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing completely unreadable, and I understand why, though I was compelled to see it through and in the end I did find its story to be haunting and provocative. But I am still pretty baffled by the style of it – MY thoughts aren’t that disjointed and chaotic even at the worst of times, so I am not sure why this was the way to tell this tale, except maybe to distance us a bit from the horror and pain of it. Does that sound like a recommendation? I think few people would enjoy this one, but give it a try if you’re looking for something wildly experimental.
* Paper Townsby John Green. This YA novel is very John Green, so if you like John Green, you’ll like Paper Towns. What I enjoy about Green’s books is how well he captures that particular way that adolescence beautifully straddles self-centered, banal fixations and worries, and the biggest deepest questions about humanity and the meaning of life. I agree with the criticism some have made that all of his male narrators are kind of the same, but I’m not too bothered by that as I see the character as a teenage everyman and that works for me. In relation to his other books – THIS MIGHT BE MILDLY SPOILERY – I liked that Paper Towns did not employ the use of a dramatic tragedy to make its point; it was a little anticlimactic but still satisfying.
*Mud Seasonby Ellen Stimson. A memoir about city-slickers from St. Louis who move to small town Vermont and make themselves over as country folks, with mostly disastrous results. Stimson has a folksy sense of humor that sometimes made my teeth hurt, but she dropped enough F bombs into her tale to keep me going. Though she was self-deprecating and played her many failures for laughs, I couldn’t help cringing at how much she and her family behaved like bulls in a china shop in their new hometown – disrupting their peace with their fancy home renovations, buying the general store and running it into the ground (!!!), taking in farm animals with no clue how to care for them, and all the while looking down her nose at the locals. As a girl raised in a small tourist town myself, I often wanted to shake her silly. But I think it’s a fun read for New Englanders and others who can relate in one way or another.
* The Perks of Being a Wallflowerby Stephen Chbosky. This is an older YA novel, published in 1999 by MTV Books (?! who knew) and later made into a movie, which I haven’t seen but now would like to. I have to say I was deeply confused by this book and did not know what I was meant to make of Charlie, the teenaged narrator. He’s not just a wallflower, he’s extremely quirky at the very least – at times astoundingly immature and clueless, at other times implausibly insightful and mature. I could not decide whether Chbosky was writing a wildly out of tune version of what an adult thinks a high school freshman is like, or perhaps a dead on first person view as an autistic teenager??, though autism was never once mentioned. Near the end, an intimate conversation between Sam and Charlie nearly redeemed the entire book for me. I might have to reread sometime.