Wednesday, December 31, 2014

2014 in Review

Best Books
1. Grasshopper Jungle, Andrew Smith
This novel was the best thing I read all year--a really touching, precise, painful examination of teenage sexuality and the end times. It put Andrew Smith on my radar, and I'm so glad: I read three of his books this year, and none of them was like the other. I'm eagerly anticipating the two books of his scheduled for 2015, which promise to be equally as wacky and true.

2. The Bone Clocks, David Mitchell
A masterwork from the master. David Mitchell is the king of voice, and he explores six different ones in this book with such dexterity and grace that you'd swear he is actual a cabal of writers using a pseudonym--each character breathes and blinks and batters you with their pure, imperfect humanity. Perhaps it's a little heavy on the sci-fi battle toward the end, but I didn't mind. I'd follow David Mitchell anywhere.

3. The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender, Leslye Walton
This is the saddest, most beautiful book I read all year, the story of a girl with wings and love and loss. Magical realism at its finest in a delightful showcase. A word that gets tossed around too often when reviewing books is "lush," but it's definitely one of the words I'd choose for this book, along with "delicate," and "glittering." A stunner of a book.

4. The Riverman, Aaron Starmer
Childhood, secrets, love, and fear--Starmer can conquer them all. This is the first in a trilogy (and I've already read the second!), and it's potent book that scared me and made me feel old and young all at once. I can't wait to finish this group of books, which is simultaneously like learning and remembering. This book wins "most likely to crawl up your nose and inside all your organs to haunt you forever."

5. Man V. Nature, Diane Cook
Short stories that thrilled me and chilled me and mined me for all of my deep, personal inside feelings. I have read few short story collections as good as this one, with every story a total knockout victory.

Graphic Novel Super-Review

I have a tumultuous relationship with graphic novels: the first time I picked one up was in 2010, after years of speaking out against them. My first was Watchmen, which I thought was good but not that good. I continued and found some that I really loved, most which weren't serial comics: Habibi, Blankets, Asterios Polyp, Stitches. At the end of the year, I basically threw in the towel, convinced that I had read every good comic that there was to read.

Each year, there would be a graphic novel or two that piqued my interested, and I'd read it: Sailor Twain (Mark Siegel), Daytripper (Fábio Moon and Gabriel Bá) and Building Stories (Chris Ware) stand out, but it was much quieter on the visual narrative front for me. 2014, however, saw a redux in graphic novels for me; I became obsessed with reading them again, starting new series and revisiting old ones. Since it's hard for me to muster up more than a paragraph per book, I thought I'd collect some of the highlights of my year here:

Graphic Novels
Ant Colony (Michael DeForge)
This is my favorite graphic novel of 2014. DeForge takes us into an ant colony to share with us the struggles and turmoil of ants. Of course, they're more than ants: they're sentient, aware of the true-life weirdness of what it means to be an ant. They question the authority of their queen, they ponder existential questions, they have hopes and fears and dreams and sex. I have really fallen in love with DeForge's art style, which I imagine is frequently compared to Chris Ware's--that must get tiresome for him. It's lots of solid blocks of color and simple shapes, and I don't know how to properly express that I love how much it adds to the overall book. This is a treasure.
My rating: 5/5

The Southern Reach Trilogy (Jeff VanderMeer)

This book is the first in a trilogy, one that centers on Area X. It's a mysterious, quarantined area that we don't know much about. Every so often, the government sends in an expedition, people of various professional backgrounds to scope out the land to report what's inside the territory. Unfortunately, almost all of the expeditions end badly, with everyone shooting each other or disappearing under unknown circumstances, reappearing in their homes several months later, and dying not long after.

Annihilation takes us on the twelfth expedition to Area X; there are participants this time, all women: a psychologist, an anthropologist, a surveyor, and our narrator, the biologist. We never learn any of their names, and maybe that's part of the point. The biologist's connection to Area X is particularly interesting: her husband was a member of the previous expedition, the one where they all disappeared and showed up at home without an explanation before dying of a brief illness. She's become obsessed with the world her husband died for, so much that she volunteers to go in, too.

What she finds is in turns horrifying and fascinating. The book gets pretty fantastical pretty quickly, but the images that VanderMeer makes for us are beautiful and frightening all at once. I don't want to go into much detail because everything about this book is atmospheric: it's important to let the unease creep into your bones and fill you with discomfort exactly as the author wants.

My only criticism of the book is that it gets a bit trapped in itself toward the end. It's a short book--only about 175 pages--which is a perfect length to do the kind of narrative exploration that VanderMeer wants to do while his characters are doing a physical exploration of Area X. Nonetheless, the narrator kind of collapses in on herself toward the end and I struggled to follow along, but it's clearly an intentional choice and one that I applaud even if I couldn't understand it fully. I'm very much looking forward to books two and three.

My rating: 4.5/5

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Yes Please (Amy Poehler)

At random intervals, I read a comedy humor memoir thing (Hyperbole and a Half; Let's Pretend This Never Happened; Bossypants) and I feel compelled to make the disclaimer that "this isn't the type of thing I normally read I'm not sure exactly how to review it." I don't think it will ever not be a true statement, and I find myself wanting to say the same thing for this review. Yes Please is Amy Poehler's book. I have been looking forward to it all year. It's another case of high expectations and "meh" results. Blerg.

As I have said before, I have a hard time evaluating humor books. How often should I be laughing? Is the book a failure if I don't laugh "enough?" I didn't laugh out loud very often during this book--I'm not even sure I laughed aloud at all. If that were the only criterion by which I judged, this book would have been a failure. But clearly it wasn't, because I read all the way through relatively quickly.

What I will say I enjoyed about this book is what I enjoy about most memoirs: the gooey insides. There is something attractive to me about books filled with real people's inner lives, and I want to stress here that the "something" has nothing to do with celebrities or tragedy. I don't need convincing that celebrities are "real people just like us," because they are obviously not, so that's not the attraction. I don't want to exploit people's very sad and very real problems (AKA sad porn), either.

I just like reading about people's interior lives. I don't need sordid details or emotional appeals, just odds-and-ends details about what others are doing with their time. In that regard, Yes Please is very good. Poehler does a great job of spreading her net far and wide, gathering lots of stories from her whole life; she doesn't focus too heavily on her comedy roots, on her SNL-and-after stardom, or her list of celebrity friends. I felt like I was reading a diary that was meant for public consumption, and that's the best feeling.

So what didn't I like? For one thing, the book was messy. It's divided into three very loose thematic sections ("Say Whatever You Want," "Do Whatever You Like," and "Be Whoever You Are"), none of which felt very cohesive. That is, the arrangement felt randomized and arbitrary. Chapters within each section were all over the place--more than once did I feel lost while reading. It happened first in the opening chapter: she talks about her earliest encounter with improv, as Dorothy in an elementary school production of The Wizard of Oz.