Jul 22, 2016

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, by Ken Kesey

Let's be honest, most people will think of the Jack Nicholson movie upon hearing this title, not Kesey's unique novel. I haven't seen the movie but do intend to soon; I'm curious how this story is told on screen.

You'll sometimes hear the phrase "unreliable narrator." This book is told from the first person perspective of a very tall half-Indian man who lives in the psychiatric ward of a hospital in Oregon; the others call him Chief Bromden, or simply Chief, and he's cultivated the belief that he is both deaf and dumb. He is neither, and understands far more than he ever lets on, but he is also, quite definitely, crazy. The Chief calls the outside world the Combine - people enthralled by the Combine are part machinery and live very sanitized, regimented lives. Within the ward, the Combine's greatest weapon is the Big Nurse, Miss Ratched. Her name gets thrown around a lot in pop culture, and from that context only I thought she was some kind of yelling, spitting, terrifying beast of a woman. While she is terrifying, she is none of those other things. Quiet, patient, always with a smile frozen in place, with a perfectly starched uniform: Miss Ratched is the pinnacle of passive aggression, and rules the ward (including the aides and the doctor) with an iron, milk-white fist.

Into this, Randle McMurphy is thrust. Fresh off the fields doing hard labor, McMurphy loves two things most in this world: gambling and screwing. Through the entire novel, it's unclear and unknown whether McMurphy pretended to be crazy in order to get off work duty, or whether he is actually insane. He shakes up the ward in a myriad of ways, and a battle of wills takes place between him and Miss Ratched.

It's a heartbreaking book, really, witnessing these men who so very much want to get better be systematically undermined by the Big Nurse and contemporary psychology's rather tenuous understanding of the human psyche. Group therapy is anything but therapeutic, as Miss Ratched uses the hour to break down and shame her chosen target, even having his fellows report on him and try to analyze him themselves. McMurphy, disruptive though he is, breathes life back into these broken men. Now, of course, we understand that listless days, group analysis (without the addition of group support), and electroshock therapy are quite the opposite of what most mentally ill patients need. The Chief might be crazy, but he is still a man, Kesey is telling us, still a human being with human needs. Being crazy doesn't mean he shouldn't feel happy or fulfilled. This book is indeed a classic, much deserving of that label.

Jul 13, 2016

Gumption, by Nick Offerman

Ron Swanson. No mere sitcom character, this man has become an icon, a legend of masculinity, libertarianism, woodsmanship, and terseness. Offerman, who plays him, has a similar dry sense of humor and is a well-known woodworker, but there end the similarities. Offerman, despite being comfortable hunting an animal with a gun, is also a pretty damn liberal guy. Ostensibly, this is a book about twenty-one Americans who Offerman believes has his most valued trait: gumption. Gumption is a grouping of characteristics - passionately caring for something, perseverance in the face of difficulty, kindness and love for all human beings, tenacity and a painstakingly-curated skill. His list includes early presidents, artists and woodworkers, comedians, and writers. Some are obvious (George Washington and Theodore Roosevelt), some are surprising or at least lesser known (Yoko Ono, Wendell Berry).

The prevailing theme through these histories and discussions are Offerman's very strong feelings about kindness and human decency. He's made no secret of his predilections and beliefs, many of which he set out in his first book, and he's not shy to press his point. Christians who disapprove of gays and transgenders get a fair chunk of his wrath, as do racists, sexists, and bigots of all kind. He's preaching to the choir, though, as the vast majority of people who pick up his book will probably agree with him. Still, it's nice to have someone respected and well-known stumping for the values I also believe in. Plus the book is fun! I learned a lot and Offerman's humor throughout make this a quick, enjoyable read. Well done, Mr. Offerman.

The Clasp, by Sloane Crosley

I'd call this book "literary chick lit." It was a fun vacation read, but probably not something I would have read otherwise. Drawing from and built around Guy de Maupassant's tragic short story, "The Necklace," The Clasp follows three friends from college and their incredibly awkward not-quite-love triangle. Themes of alienation from one's society as well as the people one was closest to at a particular time in life will resonate with most young-ish people, and Crosley does have a wicked sense of humor to go along with it. Though it features two male main characters to one female, I doubt many men would enjoy reading it, with its references to pop culture and central story line around jewelry. My only major complaint is that the eponymous clasp, as well as the real plot of the story, don't actually start up until about 150 pages in. So while it's fun and funny up until that point, it also leaves one wondering exactly when the action's going to start, and then it's a bit surprising when it finally does. But overall this was a fun read, good vacation fare for sure.

Jul 10, 2016

Crooked Heart, by Lissa Evans

I tend to avoid World War II novels because of their ubiquity and ubiquitous depressing nature. But with the well-deserved success of All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr and this positively lovely, totally enjoyable novel by Lissa Evans, WWII literature seems to be turning a new leaf. Like the former, a monumental bestseller, Crooked Heart features a pair of quirky protagonists who exist at the borders of the war. Where Doerr's wonderful novel is heartbreaking and touching, Evans' is funny and touching. We all know I'm an anglophile, and Crooked Heart contains a healthy dose of that British humor I love so much.

Noel, a ten-year-old boy, lives with his godmother in London, with no other living relations to be found. Mattie is brilliant and eccentric, traits her godson either comes by honestly or learns from her, or perhaps both. But dementia begins to set in just as the Blitz looms over the horizon, and Noel is left effectively alone in the world. Evacuated to St. Albans along with the rest of his class, he is picked up by Mrs. Sedge, who is quite a character herself. Born of mean circumstances and never able to get herself out of them, Mrs. Sedge supports her mute mother and lazy son by means both honest and not so honest. The addition of an evacuee means a little extra cash and food rations, and that's that. Not exactly taken with each other, Noel and Mrs. Sedge eventually find their equilibrium, in between various capers.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, funny and refreshing and realistic. Mrs. Sedge and Noel are described delightfully, easy to picture and populate in one's mind and, though far from perfect either of them, utterly charming. This is a little gem of a novel, and would make a great book club read as well.

Jun 27, 2016

Love in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, by Judd Trichter

My biggest complaint about this book is the copy editing. Misspelled words, incorrect words used, sentences that don't quite make sense - was this book copy edited at all? Surprising for St. Martin's Press, usually a solid, reputable publisher.

That being said, the book is good, an interesting, unique idea performed, for the most part, well for a first novel. Eliot is in love with Iris. Eliot is a heartbeat, a human being with a belly button and a pulse. Iris is an android, with an outlet for a navel and a red fleck in her eye, a flaw from the factory production line that she has embraced and replicates in all her artwork. Their love is forbidden, with radicals on both sides of the fight taking lives brutally. Then Iris disappears, and Eliot must work alone to find her scattered parts since no one cares about a single missing android. Things get a bit ridiculous at times, very action movie-like, and it's fairly predictable, but I like the ingenuity of the concept. I hope Trichter continues working on his writing, and look forward to watching the ass kicking movie this particular book will inevitably turn into.

Jun 22, 2016

At Night We Walk in Circles, by Daniel Alarcon

This is a thoroughly enjoyable novel, and though interesting in format, I don't have much else to say about it. "At Night We Walk in Circles" is about a young man, Nelson, and the journey he takes with a legendary guerilla theater group through their much-changed South American country. We soon realize that this novel is a transcript of sorts, that our narrator is another young man who is interviewing anyone he can find that is at all connected to Nelson to get at Nelson's story. The writing is very good, with a tinge of South American insouciance. I liked the conceit, where the novel reads in a traditional narrative but with dashes of the interviews peppered liberally throughout. It's a commentary on acting and actors, among many other subjects, and how one can be subsumed by a character so completely as to lose oneself. This would make an excellent book club read, as there's little to offend anyone's sensibilities but many aspects that would provide rich discussion topics. Plus I just love the title!

Jun 6, 2016

The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, by Terry Pratchett

After that last essay compilation, I needed something mellow to kick start my brain. Cue the ever-wonderful Terry Pratchett! Maurice is a very special cat: he can talk, and so can the Clan of rats he's convinced to work with him to bilk unsuspecting towns out of their gold. Oh, plus there's the stupid-looking kid who can play a mean pipe. You see where this is going? Add in a precocious girl with a head full of stories, some rat catchers with malicious intent, and some seriously philosophical musings by rodents, and you get a pretty damn enjoyable romp through fairyland. Always a pleasure, Sir Terry, always a pleasure.