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The Bookshelf
Benutty’s Book Review: The Graveyard Book
Apr 18th
(Neil Gaiman, 2008)
You may or may not already be familiar with some of Neil Gaiman’s other works — most likely with Coraline or Stardust, both of which were made into films — but I wasn’t when I came across his critically acclaimed and much-awarded children’s novel, The Graveyard Book. I mean, I’d heard his name before and his books had been recommended to me — 3rin tried to get me to read American Gods once — but I’d never really paid much attention. I’ve had quite an itch for fantasy stories lately though, going so far as to rent Twilight: Eclipse from redbox (ack!, I know), so when I came across this story on wikipedia I knew I had to read it.
The Graveyard Book tells the tale of a boy, Nobody Owens, who, after the murder of his family, is orphaned and then adopted by a community of ghosts in his town’s graveyard. An archetypal coming-of-age story, Nobody’s adventures are fueled by a thirst for knowledge and a desire to experience life to the fullest. But life doesn’t come easy for a boy raised by the dead. Nobody (Bod for short) is kept guarded within the gates of the graveyard because, for him, life beyond the gates, among the living, is dangerous; the man that murdered his family is still looking for him and only the magic and protections of the graveyard can keep him safe.
Endearing, tenderly haunting, and soon-to-be made into a movie!, The Graveyard Book is well worth the few days it’ll take to read. With hints of Dante’s Inferno and Lemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate Events, this book is perfect for any reader, especially those with even an ounce of interest in children’s fantasy.
Notable excerpt:
“Yes.” Silas hesitated. “They are. And they are, for the most part, done with the world. You are not. You’re alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you’re dead, it’s gone. Over. You’ve made what you’ve made, dreamed your dream, written your name. You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished.”
Benutty’s Book Review: The Maltese Falcon
Mar 16th
(Dashiell Hammett, 1930)
Most of you probably know of The Maltese Falcon because of the Oscar-nominated film it was made into like a hundred years ago. And you probably think that’s all there is to it. Well, you’re wrong. It was a book first, piglets. Written by Dashiell Hammett, The Maltese Falcon is one of the most well-known detective stories; it tells the story of Sam Spade, a private detective in San Francisco, hired for mysterious reasons by a couple of mysterious characters from out-of-town. Like most detective stories, it’s a pretty easy read — y’know, not-so-deep themes, a just-for-fun attitude, and rather basic symbolism (i.e., Sam’s last name is Spade because he’s “sharp” and “devilish”). The most interesting things about the book, and definitely the only reasons why I’d recommend it to any of our readers, are: 1) the setting of San Francisco, and 2) the comparisons to be made between Sam Spade and Don Draper. Most of the book takes place in the financial district of SF — around Bush & Grant (close to where there is now a street named after Dashiell Hammett!) — so it’s fun to read about places you can easily imagine because you’ve been there. And Sam and Don are similar in the sense that they’re both those “heroes” that you love-to-hate and hate-to-love — y’know, never making the right decisions, always taking advantage of women, and being selfishly devious, but so sexy because of those things and absolutely nothing like Nick — so you love them.
Because it’s such a quick read, I recommend it to anyone that reads contemporary crime drama or has an interest in film noir because it really did set the standard for both of those things.
Notable excerpt:
“I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been through it all before and expect to go through it again. At one time or another I’ve had to tell everybody from the Supreme Court down to go to hell, and I’ve got away with it. I got away with it because I never let myself forget that a day of reckoning was coming. I never forget that when the day of reckoning comes I want to be all set to march into headquarters pushing a victim in front of me, saying: ‘Here, you chumps, is your criminal.’”
Benutty’s Book Review: By Nightfall
Oct 22nd
(Michael Cunningham, 2010)
I have to start with the fact that Michael Cunningham is my favorite author; I completely adore his previous novels Flesh and Blood and Specimen Days, as well as the one he’s most notable for, the Pulitzer Prize winning The Hours. His new one, By Nightfall, contains a lot of the elements that made the others endearing — the AIDS-afflicted gays, Manhattan, dramatic older women with a flare for style, and a sexy undercurrent of forbidden love. Cunningham’s style is to pull heavily from his own influences (Woolf & Whitman were some of his previous muses), but here he steps beyond literary art and looks to visual art for inspiration. By Nightfall centers around Peter Harris, a middle-aged art curator in New York City who struggles with a need to “measure up” — trying to find the next big artist, rebuilding a broken relationship with his daughter, saving his addict brother-in-law, and moving past the death of his older brother, among other things. Surrounded by the problems of the people in his life, Peter needs to find a way to address his own and it is in this struggle that Peter begins to analyze the depths of beauty and art, and the ways that each is ever-changing and dependent on the eye of the beholder.
So I’m a little biased and love this book simply because it’s a Cunningham, but I’d be a liar to say I wasn’t slightly disappointed with it. The plot of the novel, when present, is slow-moving and the ruminations on beauty & art become repetitive. The writing even becomes a little bit annoying during a few awkward asides where, as a reader, it isn’t clear whose voice is speaking to us and from what angle, is it Peter or Cunningham who has become burdened with insecurities of worth? It might not be far-fetched to guess that By Nightfall is actually a mask for Cunningham’s struggle to live up to the prize-winning name he’s made for himself. Is he really just asking us to forego immediate judgment on the value of his art, delaying any critique of each book’s individual beauty until they have withstood the test of time? Should we even care if we won’t be around to take a second look at it centuries from now? Whatever the answers, By Nightfall has its moments of tenderness, thoughtful intellect, and intrigue that make it as lovable as anything else he’s written, putting it in its place as a part of a larger body of work, artful in its collectiveness.
Recommended for fans — like a risky album from your favorite musician you’ll only enjoy it if you’re familiar with their other work, but don’t expect it to bring in any new admirers.
Notable excerpt:
Remember, how often the great art of the past didn’t look great at first, how often it didn’t look like art at all; how much easier it is, decades or centuries later, to adore it, not only because it is, in fact, great but because it’s still here; because the inevitable little errors and infelicities tend to recede in an object that’s survived the War of 1812, the eruption of Krakatoa, the rise and fall of Nazism.
Benutty’s Book Review: A Death in the Family
Aug 22nd
(James Agee, 1956)
Wow. I can’t think of a book I’ve read recently that could even dream of standing up to this one in greatness. Tinkers comes close — and is actually probably heavily inspired by Agee — but, let’s be real. I mean, this shiz was simply amazing. A semi-autobiographical story of how a small family in Tennessee copes with the death of one of their own, A Death in the Family is heartbreaking from the very beginning. Told through the experience of most of the novel’s characters, Agee’s writing is magnificent in the way he weaves in and out of each character’s inner & outer dialogue. In one moment we know what a character wants to say, and in the next we see him say something entirely different out of social grace. In the minds of the two children we are able to understand the confusion of an adolescent who must learn what death is, while also dealing with typical childhood problems – sibling rivalry, school bullying, and parental appreciation. In the adults we learn of their religious and/or atheistic justifications for death, and how simplistic either explanation of life can actually be. A character-driven novel, A Death in the Family is moving & universal; Agee’s characters are inspiring, and his talent for description top of the mark.
I just can’t recommend this book enough. But if you pick it up, have a sympathetic heart because it’s not an easy read emotionally.
Notable excerpt:
“Joel, I know that God in a wheelbarrow wouldn’t convince you,” his sister said. “We aren’t even trying to convince you. But while you’re being so rational, why at least please be rational enough to realize that we experienced what we experienced.”
Benutty’s Book Review: Tinkers
Jul 21st
(Paul Harding, 2009)
Winner of the 2010 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, Tinkers is the story of a man on his deathbed, falling inside himself to recount the memories of his childhood that involve his epileptic father. While sweet in its examination of the trials of life and death, Harding’s simple writing style also gives way to a haunting & melancholy tone. The metaphor of the universe as a clock — we as ants marching across a face of time that we can only wonder at the immensity of, while below us, unknowingly, gears and mechanisms spin and turn, guiding the meaning our lives — is beautiful in its simplicity. A lot like Cunningham’s The Hours, Tinkers brings together a small cast of characters (this time men) who discover fear, regret, and helplessness in a regressive movement of time through memory. Harding has a great ability to describe in a new way the universal curiosities of all of us — those about nature, disease, fatherhood, and life & death.
I can’t recommend this book enough. I absolutely adore it. It’s simple, heartbreaking, life-affirming, and magical. Perfect with a glass of white zin, a shawl, a brooch and a wood-burning fireplace. Don’t finish it while in public. You’ll want to let yourself cry it out and relish in the sweet & depressing emotion of it!
Notable excerpt:
Your cold mornings are filled with the heartache about the fact that although we are not at ease in this world, it is all we have, that it is ours but that it is full of strife, so that all we can call our own is strife… rejoice that your uncertainty is God’s will… and part of a greater certainty… be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world…
Benutty’s Book Review: The Woman Warrior
Jun 20th
(Maxine Hong Kingston, 1975)
I was first introduced to this book in my sophomore year of high school and, although hating it at the time, have found myself to have had a favorable idea of it throughout my more literarily mature adult life. I’ve only recently returned to it as part of my office’s book club and am pleased to realize that the romanticization of it in my head wasn’t without merit. I like it as much as I had convinced myself I had!
Kingston diverges interestingly from the typical Asian-American literary style by using what her mother calls “talk-story,” to speak to ideas of womanhood rather than focusing on the now cliche frustration of fitting into America as an immigrant, as seen in any one of Amy Tan’s boring novels. Talking story creates a hybrid fact/fiction story for Kingston that all at once includes the story of Fa Mu Lan, her mother’s own life, and lessons enveloped in Chinese tradition but stamped with American ideals. Although at times sleepy and seemingly endless, The Woman Warrior is a gem for its use of metaphor, fierceness, and simple tale-telling.
Recommended to anyone with a taste of cultural lit and/or feminism.
Notable excerpt:
“What’s the matter with her?”
“I don’t know. Bad, I guess. You know how girls are. There’s no profit in raising girls. Better to raise geese than girls.”
“I would hit her if she were mine. But then there’s no use wasting all that discipline on a girl. When you raise girls, you’re raising children for strangers.”
Benutty’s Book Review: I, Claudius
Apr 5th
(Robert Graves, 1934)
The epitome of a great work of historical fiction, I, Claudius, is as much a soap opera as it is a piece of historical fact. Full of political intrigue, treachery, debauchery, humor, and philosophy this book follows the reigns of Ancient Rome’s first three emperors — Augustus, Tiberius, and Caligula — as told by the fourth emperor, Claudius, who miraculously escaped the many bloodbaths that felled his more unlucky relatives. Although the story focuses on the men of this time, the women truly are the most interesting characters — namely Livia (who must have inspired Atia of the HBO series Rome) because of her mastery of manipulation and her desperate and indiscriminate acts of violence toward anyone who stood in her way. Graves is a historian known by me mostly for his translations of ancient texts, like The Odyssey, and is surprisingly witty here, finding a creative way to bring history to life. It’s not really a page-turner — being at times hard to remember who’s who or to differentiate one act of violence from another — but if you are looking for something to pick up for an hour or two every other day then try this one out. I recommend it for anyone with a moderate interest in history & politics, and definitely for anyone that loves nasty bitches murdering their sons and then demanding to be named a goddess!
Notable excerpt:
She reminded me that she had never contrived a murder which might be held to benefit her directly and immediately. She had not, for instance, poisoned my grandfather until some time after being divorced from him, nor had she poisoned any of her female rivals… Her victims were mostly people by whose removal her sons and grandchildren were brought closer to the succession.
Mami Goose Presents: Honeyrella
Mar 30th
Once upon a time there was a wealthy man who owned a drag bar in The Castro. He had made most of his money there, through the performances of his oldest and most experienced Drag Queen. Honeys came from all over The Castro and beyond to see her perform — they would dance the night away while she lip-synced to their favorite tunes. She was a beautiful Queen, and had become fond of one of the boys who worked on odds and ends at the bar. She took him under her wing and taught him all she knew.
Then one day the Drag Queen fell ill, and was told she would soon die. She called her to side the boy, and upon her deathbed, said to him, “My Princess, I have been your Drag-Mother, teaching you all that I know. But now is the moment when my star will fade and yours must begin to shine. Take my gowns, and my heels, my wigs and my makeup and use them always. Go to the wealthy man and offer yourself as my replacement. Be fabulous and the Honeys will tip you well and you will become famous.” And then she died.
The boy returned to the bar immediately, but did not find the wealthy man alone. He was with a new Drag Queen, who at her side had two boys of her own. These boys seemed feminine and beautiful on the outside, but on the inside were manipulative and ugly. The wealthy man said, “Boy, this is my new Drag Queen and with her are her Drag-Daughters who she will teach and prepare for their own careers. Consider her your new mother, and them your new sisters, who shall run the bar for me while I am away on business.”
The next day the man left, and then began very evil times for the boy. The Evil Drag Queen took the boy from his normal duties and made him tend bar day and night by himself, doing whatever the Honeys who patronized the bar asked of him. And so for months the boy mixed cocktails and wiped tables tirelessly and with little pay, for all his earnings were returned to the Evil Drag Queen. And after the bar closed the boy was told to sleep in the bed of a different Honey each night to please him. And any money he earned there must also be given to the Evil Drag Queen. And after sleeping with the Honeys the boy would return in the morning smelling of their filth, and because of this smell the Ugly Drag-Daughters called him Honeyrella.
One night at the bar the wealthy man announced that the Producers of a reality show would be holding a gala the following evening to cast one young Drag Princess in their upcoming competition to find the next Drag Queen superstar. The Evil Drag Queen brought the Ugly Drag-Daughters onto the stage and pronounced them the most likely at the bar to be chosen by the Producers so they would attend the gala and no one else. And although he wanted to go to the gala very much, Honeyrella would not be allowed, for the bar still needed tending that evening.
Honeyrella in his sadness retreated to the bathroom and began to weep in the mirror. But next to his reflection he saw that of his Drag-Mother. And the image spoke to him, asking him to make a wish on her reflection. And so he wished for the chance to attend the gala, and before his very eyes appeared an invitation addressed to him. He looked up into the mirror to thank his Drag-Mother, but her image had disappeared. And Honeyrella realized that even with an invitation he would not be permitted to leave the bar unattended. And so he sulked on back to work.
But Honeyrella’s luck continued, for the next evening no Honeys came into the bar, for all Honeys of The Castro were at the gala to see the Producers. Honeyrella took this as another sign from his Drag-Mother and quickly changed into her best gown, and slipped on her most golden heels, and decked himself out with all of the fixings that made the Drag Queen the best that she had been. And with these things and the invitation the new Drag Princess raced to the gala.
At the gala all eyes immediately turned to Honeyrella, who was now the most beautiful of all the young Princesses in attendance. The Producers, whose gaze was for a while stuck on the Ugly Drag-Daughters now turned to Honeyrella. One Producer approached her and begged her to perform. And perform she did until the Ugly Drag-Daughters approached the stage, and recognizing Honeyrella for who she was grabbed at her gown and tore it to shreds. In shame, Honeyrella ran from the gala so quickly that one of her heels came off, but she did not stop to look back.
The next day the Producers came to the drag bar looking for Honeyrella, but, seeing only a meager boy tending bar, were very confused. They asked the boy if they had seen a beautiful Drag Princess around, and held up the heel Honeyrella had left behind. And before the boy could speak the Ugly Drag-Daughters emerged from a door, each proclaiming to be the one they were looking for.
The Producers had each of the Ugly Drag-Daughters try on the heel, but to their disappointment the heel fit neither, for one had too big of feet and the other had too small. The Producers said they had been to every drag bar in all of The Castro looking for the Princess that took their breath away at the gala, and now at this last bar they still could not find her. All hope was lost. The evil Drag Queen complained, urging the Producers to let her daughters try on the heel again, and as she had the attention of one of the Producers, the other felt a tap on his shoulder.
Standing behind him was Honeyrella, decked to the nines in the glamorous dress from the gala, a flowing wig, and astounding makeup. And on one foot was a golden heel, the match to the one in his hand. In awe, he knelt down and slipped the heel onto Honeyrella’s foot, and it fit perfectly. And just then the wealthy man walked in to see for the first and last time, the gorgeous face of Honeyrella in drag, the Princess who would go on to become the next Drag Queen superstar and who would live gayly ever after!
The End
Benutty’s Book Review: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass
Mar 3rd
(Lewis Carroll, 1865)
What’s great about Disney is that they dumb down stories so much that when you get a chance to examine the original text for yourself you find that you can enjoy it in a whole new way, creating your own picture of the characters and the story independent of theirs. Not that I don’t love the cartoon version of Alice in Wonderland because I do, but I was surprised by how much more to the story there is than Disney presented. For me, the Alice books are about growing up and what is lost in doing so. Alice dreams (or perhaps she doesn’t!) herself into a world where she doesn’t belong and where what is true in her England isn’t necessarily true anymore. Within Carroll’s Wonderland there is no linear path to life, where one event will lead seamlessly into another adding meaningful experience upon meaningful experience. Instead life is made up of a series of oftentimes unrelated events, by conversations you never fully understand, with others you can’t reason with, and all in a world quite literally unpredictable, foreign, and ever-changing. Some of the best parts — and indeed mostly what the entire two books are about — are the conversations Alice has with other characters where she has trouble following their reasoning because she’ll say something colloquial or idiosyncratic to her world and they’ll take it for the literal face value. Like when describing how to make bread, Alice mentions needing flour but the Queen asks where you pick the flower. I caught myself laughing out loud a couple times because it’s funny to see how retarded some of the things we say must seem to someone who would need to translate them word for word.
Although I enjoyed reading these two books, I would recommend not reading them straight-through together. The books really are just a series of chapters where Alice has a conversation with a new character about another weird topic, so it’d be fine to just read a new chapter every now and then for a good laugh, or to simply remind yourself how fun it must have been to be a curious child with a simpler view of the world.
Recommendation: 50/50
Notable excerpt:
“Who did you pass on the road?” the King went on…
“Nobody,” said the Messenger.
“Quite right,” said the King. “This young lady saw him too. So of course Nobody walks slower than you.”
“I do my best,” the Messenger said in a sullen tone. “I’m sure nobody walks much faster than I do!”
“He can’t do that,” said the King. “Or else he’d have been here first.”
Benutty’s Book Review: Things Fall Apart
Feb 10th
(Chinua Achebe, 1959)
I’ve been a part of a book club at my office for about 6 months now, and of the books we’ve read in that time, this is by far my favorite. What stood out most to me was the struggle of the main character, Okonkwo, — who I can’t help but think may have inspired, if only a little, Star Trek’s Worf — to stabilize the ever-teetering relationship between the voice of what he calls his chi, or personal god, and the will of the grander gods that his culture pays tribute to. The battle of choosing when to fight openly against personal disgraces and when to relinquish responsibility to one’s faith is at the very heart of this story. Add to that themes of masculine vs. feminine, the nature of violence and fear, and the politics of cultural and religious homogenization and you’ve got yourself a masterpiece, honey!
Beautifully written as if transcribed word-for-word from the mouth of a tribal African orator yet through the mind of a Greek poet, I think everyone can find something to appreciate about this book. So read it you crazy bitches!!
Notable excerpt:
A man who calls his kinsmen to a feast does not do so to save them from starving. They all have food in their own homes. When we gather together in the moonlit village ground it is not because of the moon. Every man can see it in his own compound. We come together because it is good for kinsmen to do so.