Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, by Mary Roach

(pb; 2003: science/non-fiction)

From the back cover:

"Stiff is an oddly compelling, often hilarious exploration of the strange lives of our bodies postmortem. For two thousand years, cadavers -- some willing, some unwittingly -- have been involved in science's boldest strides and weirdest undertakings. In this fascinating account, Mary Roach visits the good deeds of cadavers over the centuries and tells the engrossing story of our bodies when we are no longer with them."

Review:

The above book blurb describes Stiff the way I would: it's (mostly) interesting and always informative, with some laugh-out loud (but respectful) quips. Like Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, it's a standout -- in a good way -- book.

My only quibble about Stiff is that certain chapters held no fascination for me, namely: "Dead Man Driving" (where Roach writes about car companies using corpses to measure the effect of car crashes on human bodies); "The Cadaver Who Joined the Army" (where Roach reveals U.S. military ballistics testing on corpses); and portions of "Holy Cadaver" (where Roach talks about historical medical and religious professionals who, among other things, have sought the physical location of man's fictional "soul"). Bear in mind this minor complaint is a reflection of my lack of interest in these subjects; Roach, in order to be thorough and reflect the interests of other readers, practically had to include these bits. (I only mention this personal quibble so certain readers who share my reading tastes may be forewarned.)

This is a memorable and informative read -- definitely worth owning.

Shotgun, by William Wingate

(hb; 1980)

From the inside flap:

"Baptist's Fire was a stormy little town all along, wtih gunfire from bitter Tennessee feuds spilling down Main Street since the 1890s. It was no place for a city slicker to visit, let alone start buying up, and that's what Mr. Cam seemed to be doing. And by the time some of the townspeople realized what was happening, they were too involved -- or too scared -- to do anything about it.

"Lou's pa didn't like it. Didn't like gassing up Mr. Cam's big black Cadillac and being polite to his bodyguards, and didn't mind saying so to the stranger whose broken-down car had to be pushed into the gas station. His name was Hardacre and that was about the only thing they found out about him, even though he stayed with them while the parts for his car were on order.

"Having Hardacre around made Lou nervous. But the strange thing was that it seemed to make the tough Mr. Cam nervous too, especially when he found out that Hardacre didn't scare. Whether provoked or moving swiftly on his own, the stranger was equally capable with his fists or his gun.

"Who was he? And to whom did he owe alleigance? Perhaps Baptist's Fire would never know, but when the dust had settled -- and Lou's shameful secret was bared -- the town and its inhabitants were changed and shaken."


Review:

Wingate employs a structure Jack Schaefer used in his classic -- in the truest sense of the word -- 1949 novel, Shane (which later became a 1953 film), except this time it's a fifteen-year old girl (Elsa Lou Colson), not a young boy (Robert "Bob" Starrett), who narrates the story. The daughter of an ornery gas station owner (Jedemiah "Jed" Colson), "Lou" tells how a stranded, quiet stranger (John Hardacre) refuses to be pushed around by a bullying land baron, who's also an exiled East Coast mafioso (Sam Camazza, aka "Mr. Cam").

The local police, led by a quirky Sheriff, Barton Haskins, aren't any help to Hardacre: they're on Camazza's payroll. So, of course, it's up to Hardacre to make things right -- as much as he can, given the situation.

More than a modern-day knock-off of Schaefer's lean, mean Western, Wingate infuses his characters with complex, relatable personalities, especially "Lou" (who, in comparison to Bob Starrett, is a runaway chatterbox), and the action is vivid and riveting -- especially in the last twenty pages, when I couldn't put the book down, even though I had writing of my own to do.

Solid, singular read, this. Shotgun reads like the bastard mating of Schaefer's Shane and David Morrell's novel First Blood.

Check it out.

#

Shotgun, retitled Malone, became a loosely-linked theatrical release on May 1, 1987.

Burt Reynolds played Richard Malone (a cinematic stand-in for John Hardacre). Cliff Robertson played Charles Delaney. Kenneth McMillan played Hawkins. Cynthia Gibb played Jo Barlow (a cinematic stand-in for Elsa Lou Colson). Scott Wilson played Paul Barlow (a cinematic stand-in for Jedemiah "Jed" Colson). Lauren Hutton (who also starred in the films Gator and Paternity with Reynolds) played Jamie. Tracey Walter played Calvin Bollard.

Harley Cokeliss directed, from a script by Christopher Frank.

Choke by Chuck Palahniuk

(pb; 2001)

From the back cover

"Victor Mancini's a medical school dropout with a problem. He needs to pay for elder care for his mother, who's got Alzheimer's. So he comes up with the perfect scam: pretending to choke in upscale restaurants and getting 'saved' by fellow diners, who, feeling responsible for Victor's life, offer him financial support.

"Meanwhile, he cruises sexual addiction recovery workshops and spends his days working at Colonial Dunsboro, where his stoner colleagues are sentenced to the stocks for any deviation from the colonial lifestyle. Oh, yeah, and he's desperate to find the truth of his paternity, which his addled mother suggests may be divine."


Review

This is one of Palahniuk's finer novels, joining the ranks of Fight Club, Lullaby, Rant and Snuff.

The jigsaw-puzzle, factoid-laden structure is everpresent in any Palahniuk work, but the happenings of Choke, shown through the first-person POV of Victor Mancini, are less jigsaw-y and factoid-oriented. Rather, the focus is on Victor's dysfunctional, falling-apart life and his strange, crazy pseudo-family -- there's Denny, Victor's slovenly, rock-collecting, sex-addict best friend; there's Ida Mancini, Victor's Alzheimer's-afflicted, crazy jailbird mother, who doesn't even recognize him anymore; there's Dr. Paige Marshall, Ida Mancini's doctor, who says she can help Ida get better, if only Victor will have sex with her (the doctor, not his mother); and there's Cherry Daiquiri (aka, Beth), a stripper, Denny's girlfriend-of-sorts.

All of these characters figure prominently into Victor trying to push through the fourth step of his twelve-step Sexaholic Recovery program (listing and righting all of own's past sins, if possible), and his increasingly desperate attempts to pay for his mother's nursing-home care.

Thematically, this shares recognizable elements with Fight Club, and most of other Palahniuk's works. There's a mention of masturbating near a pool intake valve (which brings to mind the pool masturbation scene of Saint Gut-Free in Haunted).

The main thing that sets Choke apart from most other Palahniuk novels (aside from Diary and Snuff) is how warm (emotionally-speaking) and relatable Victor Mancini is. Less nihlistic than Tyler Durden (Ida Mancini ably fills that Palahniuk-recurrent role) and other like-minded Palahniukian characters, he's just a normal person -- like most of us -- trying to muddle his way through life as smartly as possible, with a minimum of fuss.

Great, fast read. Check it out.

#

The film version is set for a September 26, 2008 theatrical release. Sam Rockwell plays Victor Mancini. Anjelica Huston plays Ida Mancini. Kelly Macdonald plays Paige Marshall. Brad William Henke plays Denny. Bijou Phillips plays Ursula. Jonah Bobo plays "Young Victor" (Victor as a boy).

Clark Gregg (who also directed and wrote the screenplay for the film) plays Lord High Charlie.

Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox, by Eoin Colfer

(hb; 2008: sixth book in the Artemis Fowl series)

From the inside flap:

"After disappearing for three years, Artemis Fowl has returned to a life different from the one he had. Now he's a big brother, and spends his days teaching his twin siblings the important things in life, such as how to properly summon a waiter at a French restaurant.

"But when Artemis's mother contracts a life-threatening illness, his world is turned upside down. The only hope for a cure lies in the brain fluid of the silky sifaka lemur. Unfortunately, the animal is extinct, due to a heartless bargain Artemis himself made as a younger boy.

"Though the odds are stacked against him, Artemis is not willing to give up. With the help of his fairy friends, the young genius travels back in time to rescue the lemur and bring it to the present. But to do so, Artemis will have to defeat a maniacal poacher who has set his sights on new prey: Holly Short.

"The rules of time travel are far from simple, but to save his mother, Artemis will have to break them all. . . and outsmart his most cunning adversary yet: Artemis Fowl, age ten."

Review:

Artemis, Holly Short, Foaly, Mulch Diggums and No1 (a demon who first appeared in Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony) are thrust back into collective action when Artemis's mother (Angeline Fowl) mysteriously contracts an antiquated fairy disease, fatal to humans as well. They travel back in time, to eight years prior, to try and alter the past and the future, in order to save Angeline.

Their primary foe this time out is Opal Koboi, a megalomaniacal scientist-fairy, who appeared, or is mentioned, in earlier Artemis adventures. She is joined by Damon Kronski, a dim-bulb, wealthy spokesman for the controversial Extinctionist movement, which takes dark delight in procuring and executing animals that are on the verge of extinction.

As in previous Artemis adventures, the semi-predictable story is solid, seeded with good characterization, humor and painless (for the reader) morality lessons. All of this, coupled with its familiar, adrenalized pace, left this reader nearly-breathless and wanting more.

Read this series!

Followed by Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex.

Eva Moves the Furniture, by Margot Livesey

(pb; 2001)

From the back cover:

"On the morning of Eva McEwan's birth, six magpies congregate in the apple tree outside the window -- a bad omen, according to Scottish legend. That night, Eva's mother dies, leaving her to be raised by her aunt and heartsick father in their small Scottish town. As a child, Eva is often visited by two companions -- a woman and a girl -- invisible to everyone save her. As she grows, their intentions become increasingly unclear: Do they wish to protect or harm her? A magical novel about loneliness, love, and the profound connection between mother and daughter. . . fuses the simplicity of a fairy tale with the complexity of adult passions."

Review:

Everything about this book worked for me: the characters, changing and deepening over time; the prose, spare, enchanting, and emotionally veracious; the interweaving of past and present -- and how the former creates the elements of the latter.

Check this out.

Me of Little Faith, by Lewis Black

(hb; 2008: non-fiction)

From the inside flap:

"What do we believe? And for God's sake why?

"Those are the thorny questions that Lewis Black, the bitingly funny comedian, social critic, and bestselling author, tackles [in this book]. And he's come up with some answers. Or at least his answers. In more than two dozen essays that investigate everything from the differences between how Christians and Jews celebrate their holidays, to the politics of faith, to people's individual search for transcendence, Black explores his unique odyssey through religion and belief.

"Growing up as a nonpracticing Jewish kid near Washington, D.C., during the 1950s, Black survived Hebrew school and a bar mitzvah (barely), went to college in the South during the tumultuous 1960s, and witnessed firsthand the unsettling parallels between religious rapture and drug-induced visions (even if none of his friends did). He explored the self-actualization movements of the 1970s (and the self-indulgence that they produced), and since then has turn an increasingly skeptical eye toward the politicians and televangelists who don the cloak of religious rectitude to mask their own moral hypocrisy.

"What he learned along the way about inconsistencies and peculiarities of religion infuriated Black, and in Me of Little Faith he gives full vent to his comedic rage. black explores how the rules and constraints of religion have affected his life and the lives of us all. Hilarious experiences with rabbis, Mormons, gurus, psychics, and even the joy of a perfect round of golf give Black the chance to expound upon what we believe and why -- in the language of a shock jock and with the heart of an iconclast."

Review:

The description on the book's inside flap is accurate. Black's humor stems from his cogent, well-written, and often-hilarious outrage at those around us who brazenly disregard the rules/facts of logic and good social behavior, in, as it says in the book flap, "the language of a shock jock and with the heart of an iconclast." Those who are religious and easily offended should not read this book, because it'll just tick them off. (Black also offers this warning in the beginning in Me of Little Faith.)

Thankfully, Black doesn't just come across as a funny jerk. His ideas, humor and personal experiences are shot through with some of the finer elements of humanity: humility/acceptance of his limitations and knowledge, cogent reasoning, and warmth for those around him.

Check it out, if you're not sensitive/close-minded about religious matters, and not afraid to enjoy some truly dark-ish humor.

Bedford Square, by Anne Perry

(pb; 1999: nineteenth book in the Charlotte & Thomas Pitt series)

From the back cover:

"The freshly dead body sprawled on the Bedford Square doorstep of General Brandon Balantyne is an affront to every respectable sensibility. The general denies all knowledge of the shabbily dressed victim who has so rudely come to death outside his home. But Superintendant Thomas Pitt cannot believe him. For in the dead man's pockets he finds a rare snuffbox that recently graced the general's study. He must tread lightly, however, lest his investigation trigger a tragedy of immense proportions, ensnaring honorable men like flies in a web. Pitt's clever wife, Charlotte, becomes his full partner in probing this masterpiece of evil, spawned by an amorality greater than they can imagine."

Review:

June 1891. Several men in relative power (but not a lot of wealth) are being blackmailed via defamatory letters by someone who isn't making traditional blackmail demands (money, or political votes). One of these men is General Brandon Balantyne (who also appeared in Callander Square and Death in the Devil's Acre). That's not Balantyne's only problem: he's just had a murdered corpse dumped on his front doorstep, with a personal item of Balantyne's stuffed in the corpse's jacket pocket.

One of the other men being blackmailed is Assistant Commissioner Cornwallis, Pitt's immediate boss (who first appeared in Traitors Gate). While Pitt delves into Cornwallis's blackmail situation, Samuel Tellman, Pitt's right hand man (who, progressively, with every new book, gets increasing amounts of point of view time), sets out to discover who dumped the body on Balantyne's front steps -- and if that person is the same person who's blackmailing Balantyne and the others. Inevitably, Pitt's and Tellman's investigations dovetail into one case, one that has a tragic, though not completely unsurprising, finish.

Excellent reading, as are all the Pitt novels. Check them out.

Followed by Half Moon Street.

The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis

(pb; 1941)

From the back cover:

"The letters of the infernal Screwtape, a senior devil from a highly organized, computerized Hell, deftly instructs his nephew Wormwood, a junior demon, in the artof winning over a young man's soul -- not by a sudden fall into mortal sin, but by the routine and undramatic temptations of daily life.

"The Screwtape Letters takes us into a world that is immediate, familiar, and amusing, and so exposes the true nature of evil. . . and the very real devils in all our lives."

Review:

Lewis, through the fictional demon Screwtape, dryly skewers the vanities of mortal men, Christians and non-Christians, while exposing chinks in the spiritual armor and methods of both men and God, aka "the Enemy".

A must-read for anyone who's interested in Christianity, or just looking for a worthwhile satire. My only nit about this effective, word-taut work is that near the end of the 93-page novella Lewis/Screwtape begins to repeat his clever observations, albeit in a different form. A few chapters could've easily been trimmed from this; that said, this is one of my all-time favorite satirical works.

Check it out.

Followed by Screwtape Proposes a Toast.

No One You Know, by Michelle Richmond

(hb; 2008)

Review:

"All her life Ellie Enderlin had been known as Lila's sister. Until the day Lila, a top math student at Stanford, was murdered, and the shape of their family was changed forever. In the aftermath of her sister's death, Ellie entrusted her most intimate feelings to a man who turned the story into a best-selling true crime book -- a book that devastated her family and identified one of Lila's colleagues as the killer.

"Twenty years later, Ellie is now a professional coffee buyer, an inveterate traveler who is incapable of trust. In a chance meeting with the man accused of the crime, she comes into possession of the notebook filled with mathematical equations that Lila carried everywhere. Stunned, she will return home to San Francisco to explore the mysteries of Lila's notebook and begin a search that will lead her to a centuries-old mathematical puzzle, to the motives and fate of the man who profited from their family's anguish -- and to the deepest secrets even sisters keep from each other. As she connects with people whose lives unknowingly intersected with her own, Ellie will confront a series of startling revelations -- from the eloquent truths of numbers to confessions of love, pain, and loss."

Review:

The plot and themes of No One are so similar to that of The Year of Fog that comparisons to the earlier novel are inevitable. In both novels, the main protagonists travel between San Francisco (their home city) and Central America (in No One, Ellie Enderlin travels to Nicaragua; in Year, Abby Mason travels to Costa Rica). The reason? They're both on the trail of a long-gone family member: in No One, Ellie's searching for clues to the identity of her sister's killer, as well as "proofs" that will help her know her sister (Lila), and herself, better; in Year, Abby's looking for her kidnapped child (Emma), who's thought dead by the rest of her family.

I only mention this because it's an obvious comparison, and one I wish to dispel: while the plot and structural elements are similar, their dynamics are varied. Ellie (in No One) isn't as desperate as Abby (in Year) -- losing one's sibling, while traumatic, is dissimilar to losing one's only child; the attendant emotions of both traumas have distinctive traits and questions. Also, Richmond has shuffled around their structural elements: No One begins in Nicaragua, while Year begins in San Francisco/the Bay Area; it's not until later in Year that Abby's quest leads her to Costa Rica. As if that weren't enough to differentiate the two characters, Ellie's and Abby's personalities/journeys are unique to each of them.

Richmond once again shows her love of San Francisco/the East Bay by mentioning city-specific locations that I, as an East Bay resident, recognized -- as in Year, No One's locales are both tourist-friendly and local-cool/friendly.

Emotional without being excessive, plot-true without sacrificing the characters' emotional quotients/elements, and all-around well-written, this is a superb follow-up to The Year of Fog.

Pick this up.

Rollin' with Dre: The Unauthorized Account, by Bruce Williams with Donnell Alexander

(hb; 2008: memoir)

From the inside flap:

"As Dre's confidant and the problem-solver to a stable of artists and others who came to know him as 'Uncle Bruce,' Williams was either there when the action went down or close enough to feel the hollowpoints whiz by: Dre perfecting the gangsta era's signature sound displayed on his highly influential The Chronic and its Snoop Dogg-helmed follow-up, Doggystyle; getting out from under Death Row Records, the label Dre co-founded with impresario Suge Knight; launching the careers of Eminem, 50 Cent, and The Game.

"Williams lays it out in black and white, from dish on Tupac Shakur's chaotic rise and fall to the deadly feud between The Row (formerly Death Row Records) and the East Coast MCs and bigshots, from Suge's legal battles to Dre's reconciliation with Eazy-E before E's untimely demise from AIDS, from the hard-won 'overnight' successes of Snoop and Eminem to what it was like rollin' with giants and legends-in-the-making -- and living the life (and bearing the burdens) as a bona-fide master of the game."

Review:

Engaging, solid read. Williams, a former soldier and former prison guard, comes off as a smart, level-headed individual who found himself befriending, and later working for, Andre "Dr. Dre" Young, who, while a genius DJ/producer at the mixing board, was disconnected from the day-to-day realities surrounding him. . . realities that Williams dealt with, on Dre's behalf, for fifteen years. These realities ranged from setting up parties, to chilling out "wilding" (out of control) friends and business associates. One business associate Williams was careful not to offend, but not kowtow to, was Marion "Suge" Knight, the shady, drug-dealing thug who ran the record company Death Row Records; Knight's strong arm tactics later wound Knight up in a prison. Williams also dealt with less volatile personalities, like rapper/lyricist The D.O.C. (aka, Tracy Curry), Tupac (who, less volatile than Knight, adopted the wild attitude of those around him), 50 Cent (aka, Curtis Jackson), The Game, and Eminem (aka, Marshall Mathers, a sensitive mostly-nice kid with a sharp tongue).

In between the gangsta-tale telling, Williams (with Alexander's help) sketches in changes in his own life, about how he went from being wowed by the opulent lifestyle of the rappers (but not the rappers themselves -- bear in mind, Williams had dealt with tough guys in the military and prison) and being a playa of women, to meeting his wife, Vivian, becoming a responsible, happy father of three, and becoming an L.A. club co-owner (with his wife).

He also talks about his friendship with Dre, how it waxed and waned over time. Williams, however, never talks bad about Dre, aside from being sad about opportunities that Dre and other promising friends/rappers lost when Dre dropped the ball in certain business and personal situations. Mostly, Williams, who never comes off as self important -- he shows himself as a witness to events, not a major player -- just seems grateful for the experiences and people around him who helped him get to where he is today: that's a large part of what makes this such a good read, besides the tight editing and the occasionally salacious tale-telling.

Good read, this. Check it out.

'F' is for Fugitive, by Sue Grafton

(pb; 1989: sixth book in the Kinsey Millhone mysteries)

From the back cover:

"Everyone knew the kind of girl Jean Timberlake was -- ask anybody in the sleepy surf town of Floral Beach and they'd say Jean was wild, looking for trouble. But she certainly wasn't looking for murder. She was found dead on the beach seventeen years ago, and a rowdy ex-boyfriend named Bailey Fowler was convicted of her murder and imprisoned -- and then Bailey escaped. Now, private eye Kinsey Millhone steps into a case that never should have closed, in a town where there's no such thing as a 'private' investigation."

Review:

Millhone's investigation of Jean Timberlake's murder takes a lot of sordid turns, as she works her way through a cold-case that, seventeen years later, still incenses the citizens of the small town where it happened; those incensed are pissed for different reasons, as Millhone finds out, flurries of deceits (some petty, some deadly) dancing around her every investigative step.

Grafton's tight writing and thumbnail-sketched, effectively-rendered characters -- as well as Kinsey's wits and semi-quirky sense of humor -- carry the tale once again, however. The killer's identity was obvious (to me, anyway), but the scene where the killer is revealed made me think of one of the more chilling scenes in the 1978 film Halloween.

Good story, as usual, with characters who are memorably shady, and/or memorably human. Grafton's writing keeps getting better and better.

Followed by 'G' is for Gumshoe.