The Last Good Day: Antediluvian Tales by Poppy Z. Brite

Antediluvian Tales by Poppy Z. Brite

During my baby doll dress-wearing, 'zine-swapping, poetry slamming alterna-teen days, I was aware of Poppy Z. Brite, and though I'd never read one of her books, I did not like her. Part of this can probably be attributed to my teenage disdain for the goth aesthetic, but looking back, I think I was mostly just jealous that someone not that much older than me was already so successful and driven as a writer.

And then, ten years later, I was assigned to review the Courtney Love book Dirty Blonde, and picked up Brite's excellent biography for background research. Reading it, I realized that I hadn't given Brite a fair shake. So, I picked up her trio of Rickey and G-Man books, Liquor, Prime, and Soul Kitchen, and by the time I was through with them, not only was I shamed by my youthful rush to judgment, I had a new favorite author.

I love everything about Brite's writing. I love her dark humor, her lovably debauched, soul-searching characters, and her insights into the restaurant business and tantalizing descriptions of food. I love the way she writes about New Orleans. I love her range as a writer, and though it sounds a bit melodramatic to phrase it as such, her integrity to her craft.

Everyone in New Orleans was impacted by Hurricane Katrina, to understate it by a mile. And as the city rebuilds (or doesn't) and as people move back (or don't), it's clear that New Orleans will always be New Orleans, but it won't be like it was. Though it's only a small part of the social fabric, it's interesting to see what that means for writers and artists like Brite, whose work has always been so rooted in the city.

Antediluvian Tales doesn't spell out what that means for Brite, but in her introduction, she makes it clear that things are going to be, will have to be, different:

"After the events of 2005, though, I couldn't see pairing stories I'd written before the flood with those I'd written after; for better or worse, my life, my outlook, and, necessarily, my work has changed forever... Whatever else they may be, the stories in this little collection now seem almost impossibly innocent to me."

The characters will be familiar to those who know Brite's fictional universe. Five of them are about the Stubbs family, and two about the author's ambiguously gendered alter ego, Dr. Brite, coroner of New Orleans. However, their arrangement is eclectic. Although Brite includes an appendix which allows the stories to be read chronologically, the stories are arranged in the order she found most pleasing.

Though I liked them all, the Stubbs family stories are the strongest in the collection. Brite struck gold when she created this family, a sort of Yoknapatawpha County, NOLA-style (i.e. all the pain without any of that pretentious, beholden-to-the-past southern stoicism, which isn't as dignified as it's cracked up to be).

Standouts include "The Feast of St. Rosalie," where G-Man's lonely, divorced sister considers the connection with her beatific namesake, and "The Devil of Delery Street," a comically sinister story where the Stubbs family is haunted by a ghost that's both malicious and attention-starved. The collection also includes a nonfiction piece, "The Last Good Day of My Life," where Brite contemplates a day she spent birdwatching, eating, and adventuring in Cairns, Australia shortly before Hurricane Katrina. It's one of those seemingly insignificant, yet rare and perfect days, the kind that Brite says, "you probably only get a half-dozen or so in a lifetime, and that's if you're lucky."

And then days after that perfect day, life changed forever. While memories of that trip helped her get through much of 2005 and 2006, she's also found that since then, she has trouble leaving the city now. Brite says, "Until I overcome this, there will be no more truly good days no matter where I am. No more cassowaries or mudskippers... No more adventures except maybe the kind you're forced into. No more coming home."

However her work may change in the future, I'm glad that Brite found a home for the stories in this book. It's a slim, yet wonderful collection that ends one chapter in a writer's career, but leaves the door open for a great deal of exciting and much-anticipated work. It's also worth noting that Brite's future Rickey and G-Man books (she has planned three more for the series) will have a different, though as yet unspecified publisher. In "The Last Good Day of My Life," Brite alludes to an editor who attempted to exploit her Katrina experiences. Though I'm not sure about the particulars here, Brite ended her relationship with Three Rivers Press shortly after the publication of her last novel, Soul Kitchen.

Silly editors. Don't ever ask a southerner to exploit anything about their southern-ness, natural disasters included. Haven't they ever listened to "Outfit" by DBT?

Brave New World: Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

"Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth."

Lahiri's third book begins with this lovely and apt epigraph from Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Custom-House," and sets the tone for a collection of short stories that feels familiar, yet more troubled and troubling than her previous work.

Many of Lahiri's touchstones are present in Unaccustomed Earth -- Bengali brides who make their peace with life in Boston and its suburbs, sullen teens dragged to India for summer vacations, arranged marriages, mixed marriages, and the conflicts present in each. However, these plot points feel lived-in, not tired. And while Lahiri's characters tend to go through similar life experiences, this is a very different book from Interpreter of Maladies and The Namesake.

The title story is the first, and my favorite of the eight collected here. It involves a woman whose recently widowed father comes to spend a week with her and her son in Seattle. During his visit, she comes to realize how much she needs him, just as he's realizing that he doesn't want to be part of another family.

Another stand-out is "Only Goodness," a story about a woman who quietly puts together the pieces of a successful life in the shadow of her screw-up younger brother, and her opportunity to welcome him back into the fold.

The three intertwined stories in Unaccustomed Earth, "Once in a Lifetime," "Year's End," and "Going Ashore," follow the lives of Hema and Kaushik, who meet as children and are brought together again years later. These stories have been singled out as the collection's high point, and while I agree that they are the most emotionally complex and searing thing that Lahiri has written, their bleakness keeps me from thinking of them as "favorites."

It seems silly to write at length about a book that's been so widely and well-reviewed in recent weeks, particularly when I agree with the bulk of those reviews. Fans of Lahiri's previous books will be pleased with Unaccustomed Earth; however, they should be prepared for stories that are less warm, less likable than her previous work. These are stories that deal with the pricklier, more unpleasant sides of marriage, parenting, growing up, and growing old. Still, it's good to see that a remarkably talented writer isn't standing still, but forging ahead into undiscovered, if hostile, countries.

Broads, Dames and Twists No More: A Hell of a Woman: An Anthology of Female Noir

A Hell of a Woman: An Anthology of Female Noir, edited by Megan Abbott

If there's one thing in this world that I'm sure of, it's that any project with Megan Abbott's name on it may as well be stamped with the damn Good Housekeeping Seal. Well, maybe -- if that Seal was sepia-toned and smeared with a few bloody fingerprints, and if the woman throwing it into her shopping cart had dark circles under her eyes, and a few darker secrets behind them.

The noir world is scattered with the corpses of pretty young things, femme fatales, and brassy, boozy hellcats, mostly portrayed in thin, played-out sketches, mostly by men. Abbott's work (Die a Little, The Song Is You, Queenpin) has consistently turned these stock noir caricatures on their heads, and the exceptional work collected in A Hell of a Woman does that, and then some.

The section headings that situate the collection's 24 stories draw upon these character types ("Minxes, Shapeshifters and Hothouse Flowers," "Housewives, Madonnas and Girls Next Door," "Gold-Diggers, Hustlers and B Girls," "Working Girls, Tomboys and Girls Friday," and "Hellcats, Madwomen and Outlaws); however, if you think you know these women, you don't. The greatest joy of this collection is watching each author defy conventions of the genre, and create characters that are fresh and unique, yet quintessentially noir.

The book's contributors are a varied bunch, from critically acclaimed veterans like Sandra Scoppettone, Ken Bruen, and SJ Rozan to relative newcomers like Lisa Respers France and Sarah Weinman; however, there's nary a dud to be found. I found myself lingering over each story, and thinking about them, sometimes uneasily, as I fell asleep.

Particular standouts include "Blue Vandas" by Lynne Barrett, a terrific Hollywood whodunit about bit actresses, bigshot producers, and a lowly gardener who learns more about the seedy underbelly of show business than she'd bargained for. If you're a fan of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, you owe it to yourself to check this one out.

"Cherish" by Alison Gaylin, the story of a mentally ill movie theatre usher and her unhinged obsession with a movie star is unforgettably disturbing, and made more so by its knockout twist of an ending.

However, the book's best plot twist comes in Donna Moore's "Bumping Uglies," about a purse snatcher who discovers a murder plot in a Prada handbag. When she decides to blackmail the purse's owner, things get delightfully nasty.

And then just when it looks like the fun is over, there's more. The book's appendix includes 36 odes to the women of noir -- actresses, characters, and authors. There are some well-known inclusions like Phyllis Dietrichson, the iciest blonde ever to hatch an insurance scheme, and Patricia Highsmith, but also some obscure and overlooked gems, such as noir writers Delores Hitchens and Helen Nielsen, both of whom I'm now eager to track down.

Busted Flush Press has a real winner in A Hell of a Woman -- it's simply one of the strongest, tightest fiction collections I've read in a very long time.

Best New Horror: 20th Century Ghosts by Joe Hill*

20th Century Ghosts by Joe Hill

I reviewed Joe Hill's Heart-Shaped Box about a year ago, and thoroughly enjoyed it. But 20th Century Ghosts is even creepier, darker, deeper, and better.

Usually I don't gush about collections of short stories -- they make me fidgety and impatient. While I'll give a novel a few chapters to lure me in, if a short story doesn't grab me on the first page, I ditch it. I only ditched one story in this collection, "Pop Art," and it's been so universally praised and singled out in every review I've read that I'm willing to chalk it up to a lapse of judgment on my part.

These stories run the gamut from the titular ghost story to surrealist gore, real life horror, and touching explorations of family relationships, and there are too many standouts in the collection to mention individually without spending all night on it.

My favorites in the collection included "The Black Phone," about a kidnapped boy trying to escape from his captor's basement, and "Last Breath," about a curator of dying breaths, and one family's varied reactions to his strange collection. Appealingly offbeat is "Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead," about two high school sweethearts reunited while working as extras on the set of George Romero's Dawn of the Dead. And the title story, about a small town movie theatre and the ghost girl who selectively visits its patrons, is hauntingly beautiful.

There's not a dud here, and I can't wait to see what Hill does next.
___________________
* The post title refers to the lead-off story in the collection, a skin-crawling little ditty reminiscent of that X-Files episode, "Home," as well as to the book's general awesomeness.

Happy Roald Dahl Day!

While on our honeymoon in England, Potts and I picked up a collection of Roald Dahl's short stories to read on the train from Falmouth to London. We came upon one story that involved a beekeeper, his wife, and their frail infant daughter. The baby refuses to eat until the beekeeper comes up with a very creepy plan to make her gain weight. And to this day in the Potts/McCoy household, one of us need only utter the title of this story to make the other break out in shudders: "Royal Jelly."

So here's to the works of Roald Dahl, skeeving out children and adults alike for over fifty years, in the best way possible.

From The Witches:

"Grandmamma," I said, "if it's a dark night, how can a witch smell the difference between a child and a grown-up."
"Because grown-ups don't give out stink-waves," she said. "Only children do that."
"But I don't really give out stink-waves, do I?" I said. "I'm not giving them out at this very moment, am I?"
"Not to me you aren't," my grandmother said. "To me you are smelling like raspberries and cream. But to a witch you would be smelling absolutely disgusting."
"What would I be smelling of?" I asked.
"Dogs' droppings," my grandmother said.
I reeled. I was stunned. "Dogs' droppings!" I cried. "I am not smelling of dogs' droppings! I don't believe it! I won't believe it!"
"What's more," my grandmother said, speaking with a touch of relish, "to a witch you'd be smelling of fresh dogs' droppings."
"That simply is not true!" I cried. "I know I am not smelling of dogs' droppings, stale or fresh!"
"There's no point in arguing about it," my grandmother said. "It's a fact of life."

To celebrate Dahl Day yourself, take a quiz, use the word 'gobblefunk' in a sentence, or read up on Dahl's short stories for adults. And check out "Royal Jelly." Eek.

In other news, not everyone is happy about Roald Dahl Day.

"You Think You Deserve That Pain, But You Don't"*

No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July

The disproportionately talented Miranda July has a flair for creating scenes of cringe-inducing awkwardness between characters. In her first feature film, Me, You, and Everyone We Know, it's hard not to look away as the film's damaged and lonely characters try to connect with one another, yet their hearts are so genuinely good and trusting, it's also hard not to root for them.

In No One Belongs Here More Than You, July's characters are equally damaged, lonely, and looking for human connection; however, they are far less cuddly than July's film creations. There is the sense that most will never find the love they seek, and some may not even deserve it. This is off-putting and unsettling, though not necessarily a bad thing.

July demonstrates an impressive range here in the types of stories and characters she is able to write. Less impressive, however, is her narrative voice. Whether the character is a young woman or an old man, the voice is the same - clipped, detached, and willfully precocious. For some characters, such as the love-addled teen turned sex worker in "Something That Needs Nothing," this voice works admirably, but some others just don't ring true.

Still, July can tell a story, and even old, frequently-told ones are fresh in her hands. "Mon Plaisir," a story about a new age couple that attempts to rekindle their failing romance with haircuts, meditation, and background acting, is both affecting and funny, and "The Swim Team," my favorite story of the bunch, is a poignant little slice of perfect.

If you like...: the stories of Lorrie Moore, Amy Bloom, or Mary Gaitskill, this book is for you.
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* a line from Me, You, and Everyone We Know, in reference to uncomfortable footwear

Forget it Jake, It's Koreatown.

Of the various mythical versions of LA out there, my favorite would have to be Noir Angeles. I don't know if it's the suits, the architecture, the snappy patter, the combination of glamour and seediness or what, but I'm a sucker for anything set in the first half of 20th century Los Angeles. If it features morally ambiguous protagonists cast adrift in a sea of bad choices of their own making, better still. If somebody wakes up in a Mid-City flophouse with an armful of junk put there by a loved one who needed them out of the way and out of an alibi? Gravy.

Happily, Akashic Books' Los Angeles Noir brings the bleak in spades, in stories that take full advantage of the staggering sprawl of the Southland to work out traditional noir themes in new settings. As Denise Hamilton - editor and contributer of a nasty little tale of marital double-crossing in San Marino - puts it in her introduction to the book: "L.A.'s just a noir place."

Better still, in the stories of Los Angeles Noir it's a bunch of noir places; the authors in this volume are all over the map, from Mullholland Drive (in one of my favorite stories in the book) to East LA, with side trips to Commerce, the Valley, and the Belmont Shore. It expands the fictional geography of Noir Angeles in a way that's been done on film and television but less often in print, and for that alone it's worth picking up.

Not every story in the volume hits the mark but those that do hit it right in the small of the back. (Gary Phillips' "Roger Crumbler Considered His Shave" knocked my socks off and stole my shoes.) And LA residents will likely get a morbid kick out of seeing bodies pile up in familiar places, especially since they'll probably all be torn down and replaced with condos in fifteen years.**

All in all, Los Angeles Noir is a long overdue and worthy entry into the noir canon. And it's chock full of local writers, to boot! Everybody wins (except the characters).

The birthplace of noir is all growed up, and it grew up mean.

--------------------
* Neal Pollack's writing style, for instance, doesn't gel so well with the overall tone of the collection, aiming for hardboiled homage but coming up poached. (This may just be my current frustration with McSweeny's Entirely Too Precious And Ironic Internet Concern rearing its cranky head, I suppose.) And I'm not sure that Hector Tobar's otherwise excellent "Once More, Lazarus" really fits the bill as Noir Proper (tm), but these are minor quibbles.
** I must confess to cackling with joy when the HMS Bounty, the official watering hole of TBIFY, made an appearance.

Oddly, Not So Clever and Twee That It Makes Me Sick

Via Jeremy, the greatest book website EVAR.

That is all.

G.I.F.T. Challenge: 1 Naughty, 3 Nice

Carl at Stainless Steel Droppings has issued a Christmas challenge which I could not resist. A Yankee living in Los Angeles needs all the help she can get to fortify her Christmas spirit. The challenge is as follows: partake of 4 Christmas-type things, including movies, novels, short stories, poems, traditions, and memories, then post about them. Here's what I came up with:

1. Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas by Russell Hoban, illustrated by Lillian Hoban
As a child, this Jim Henson Christmas special was one of my very favorites, but I only learned recently that it was actually adapted from a children's book by Russell Hoban, the man responsible for another of my childhood favorites, Frances the Badger. The illustrations are adorable with with the power of a thousand suns, and the story has a hint of Gift of the Magi about it, so all the elements of a perfect Christmas warm fuzzy are right here. Plus, the book contains the completely unexpected and awesome-for-grown-ups line: "We never had much even when Pa was alive, what with him being a traveling man."

2. "The Birds for Christmas" by Mark Richard (in Charity)
"Fuck Frosty," Michael Christian said to me. "I see that a hunrett times. I want to see "The Birds," man. I want to see those birds get all up in them people's hair. That's some real Christmas TV to me." This story of two hospitalized, abandoned, and unloved boys who want to watch a Hitchcock movie on Christmas Eve is a downer, but incredibly memorable and affecting.

3. "Christmas is a Sad Season for the Poor" by John Cheever (in The Collected Stories of John Cheever)
A story of Christmas hospitality gone horribly awry. I hadn't read this story in about ten years, and realize now that much as I like Cheever, his writing is better when it's about the disaffected and alienated upper classes.

4. A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote
Several years ago, I went on a huge Truman Capote bender. Read every book and biography I could get my hands on. And as interesting as it was to read about his exclusive parties and hobnobbing with Manhattan socialites, I'm partial to little Truman's early years, when he lived in Monroeville, Alabama, raised by a flock of eccentric maiden aunts. Two of his best stories draw a little from this period of his life. One is "The Grass Harp," and the other is this one. A genuinely touching story about the friendship between a little boy and his elderly aunt.

Bonus: a family tradition since I was wee - the viewing of A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott. Accept no substitutions.

The Sweet Science

Rope Burns by F.X. Toole

When I read F.X. Toole's author bio, it made me feel a little sheltered and unaccomplished. Check this out: "F.X. Toole was born in 1930. Having worked as a bullfighter, professional boxing "cut man," taxi driver, and saloon keeper, Toole published his first book of fiction at age 70. He died in 2002, before seeing his short story, "Million Dollar Baby" become an Academy Award-winning film."

The man man made Hemingway look like a hare-lipped file clerk.

The stories in Rope Burns are equally tough and gritty, without being sordid. A good boxing story can never be sordid, because boxing has honor, and even if the other guy has you bleeding from the eyes, it's still not okay to rabbit punch him. The way that the trainers in Toole's stories teach their boxers the code of the fight is inspiring without being cheesy.

Toole's protagonists are always the good guys, and whether they're wearing the gloves, sealing up the cuts, or shouting advice from the corner, they're facing off against a ready-made villain, the opponent. There are lots of ways to be a boxing hero, and just as many to be a boxing villain - when you have those dynamics going for you, sometimes you don't even need much more in the way of a plot. Three rounds of boxing can pack in as much high drama and character tension, and as many plot twists as Macbeth.

While "Million Dollar Baby" may be the book's well, million dollar baby, my money's on "The Monkey Look," a clever story about a "cut man" who gets even. Also good is the title story, a novella about a trainer struggling to beat dirty odds and get his fighter to the Olympics.

If you liked...: The Pugilist At Rest by Thom Jones or Friday Night Lights by H.G. Bissinger, this book is for you.

Little Mary Sunshine

Bad Behavior by Mary Gaitskill

There's a line in High Fidelity, "It's not who you are, it's what you like." It's strange to think that in a book, or in life, you encounter someone wearing a trench coat or reading Bust magazine, or listening to Phil Collins, and expect that to tell you something about them.

Mary Gaitskill doesn't realy operate this way. As a result, you wind up with snowflake sweater-wearing junkies and shy, homely masochists, which takes a minute or two to wrap your head around. She doesn't do this in a Desperate Housewives kind of way that seeks to uncover the seedy underbelly of normal domesticity. Instead, she's interested in the complexity of human desire, and the way that it becomes obsessive, violent, and/or isolating. Not the way it can become these things... the way it does.

The James Spader/Maggie Gyllenhaal film, Secretary, is loosely adapted from a story of the same title in this collection. Reportedly, Gaitskill was not at all pleased by the adaptation - she thought it was too cute and sweet. Compared to the story itself, boy howdy, it is; however, I think she's a little too hard on the film. I liked the sweetness, and thought the film needed it. But you will find no such sweetness in Gaitskill's stories.

I wouldn't want to read her everyday, but sometimes it's interesting to wallow around in the dark places of the human psyche, and hardly anyone is better at writing about it. Her stories have a kind of voyeuristic appeal that allows readers to be interested in her world and her characters without necessarily being able to relate to them or even understand them.

She's not for everyone - I think a good litmus test for determining whether you can finish a Mary Gaitskill book is Six Feet Under. If you find this show horrifying and depraved on a fairly regular basis, best to avoid her.

If you like...: the matter-of-factness of Joan Didion or the urban nightmares of Bret Easton Ellis (but without the sensationalism), this book is for you.

Books You Can Read 100 Times: Part 2

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

I first became aware of Jhumpa Lahiri when I read her story, "Sexy," in the New Yorker back in 1998. This incident also stands in my memory as the last time I enjoyed reading anything in the New Yorker.

"Sexy," the story of a young white woman's affair with a married Indian man, and what she realizes about it after she is forced into an unexpected day of babysitting is an excellent, perfectly written story, yet it is not the best one in this collection by a long shot. Other standouts include:

"A Temporary Matter," wherein a doomed couple share a few scheduled moments of perfect honesty during the last week of their marriage

"Interpreter of Maladies," wherein a wretched American family takes a trip to India and breaks an old man's heart

"This Blessed House," wherein a Hindu couple moves into a house where the previous owners have left behind a wild and ludicrous assortment of Christian icons

and most especially, "The Third and Final Continent," wherein we meet the book's only happy couple and a delightfully crazy old woman

Number of years I've been re-reading this book: 6

If you like...: books about the second generation immigrant experience (and Lahiri's novel The Namesake is another terrific one) or books about unhappy couples permeated with a certain sad sweetness, this book is for you.

A Week of Southern Lit, Part 5

The Old Forest and Other Stories by Peter Taylor

The Goods: Peter Taylor is kind of like Woody Allen. Hear me out. If you want to learn about the customs and rituals of educated, upper class New Yorkers, Woody Allen is your go-to guy. And among writers who lay claim to a certain time, place, and people, Peter Taylor is the undisputed authority on the world of wealthy Memphians in the 1930s and 40s.

One might ask, are stories about the trials and tribulations of stuffy cotton brokers and their spoiled families really filling some void in the literary universe? And to that, I reply, perhaps you've heard of a broad named Jane Austen...

The title story centers around Nat Ramsey, a well-to-do young man who is very complacently about to wed an appropriate girl and embark on a soul-sucking career in the family business. In Nat's social circles, it is common for men to carry on flirtations and friendships with girls who stay in boarding houses and frequent juke joints, in many cases, right up until their wedding days.

Nat is involved in a minor car accident with one of these women the week before his wedding, but before the police arrive, she runs away into the Overton Park forest and disappears. Suddenly, the situation becomes delicate, as Nat's boring future, his fiancee's honor, and the Ramsey family name all hang on finding a woman who does not want to be found before his wedding day.

Nobody does the Southern novel of manners better than Peter Taylor. If you liked The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy, or any story where a woman can find herself shamed, ruined, or wholly undone with the flick of a fan, this book is for you.

A Week of Southern Lit, Part 2

Welding With Children by Tim Gautreaux

Big Bad Love by Larry Brown



The writings of Tim Gautreaux and the late Larry Brown are not so different on the surface - both write about the day-to-day struggles of lower and working class Southerners, both write with humor that is dry and wry, and both seem to view the writerly world of retreats, fellowships, conferences, and readings as one big circle jerk.

The major difference is that Gautreaux's stories leave you believing that humanity is basically decent and capable of redemption, and that even if you're a complete fuck-up there's a social network in place that will either save you from yourself or prevent you from hurting anyone else too much.

He once said, "No story is interesting unless it deals with matters of values. Or else you end up with nothing but a slew of New Yorker stories, all nihilism and meaningless pauses."

On the other hand, after reading Larry Brown, you will believe that all people are only about two paychecks and a failed relationship away from being capable of pretty much anything.

Larry Brown once said that after a year in therapy, his shrink told him, "Maybe life isn't for everyone."

If you like Larry Brown, you might find Tim Gautreaux sentimental, and if you like Gautreaux, you might find Brown's work to be sloppy and misanthropic. I love them both, and find myself returning to their stories whenever I'm in the mood for reading, but nothing on my bookshelf looks good.

If you like...: Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison, the short stories of Flannery O'Connor, or The Moviegoer by Walker Percy, one (or both) of these books are for you.

Vietnam for Valentine's

What am I doing for Valentine's Day? I'm watching The Deerhunter. This is partly because Netflix is apparently 'throttling' me, and partly because I want to.

The Pugilist At Rest by Thom Jones

The Goods: A collection of gritty, uncompromising, and richly drawn stories populated by haggard, war-torn anti-heroes, amoral assholes, and pitiful suckers. Thom Jones writes primarily about Vietnam, epilepsy, and boxing, and if you're very very lucky, he writes about them all at the same time.

If you like...: unflinching and horrifying stories about war and what it does to a person, like The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, or books written with swagger like The Liar's Club by Mary Karr, this book is for you.