So, maybe you're curious about what books people are reading right now. I'll start with new fiction. There's a lot of interesting new books out there right now. The book that everyone is talking about remains The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem. Lethem has recently been interviewed in periodicals ranging from Entertainment Weekly to the Paris Review, and the book is the current pick for countless book clubs. Despite the hype, this book is a worthy read, and you'll have something to talk about at cocktail parties. In the category of science fiction for those who don't typically read science fiction comes Quicksilver, the first book in a new series by Neal Stephenson. The book has been out for a week and is already flying off the shelves, most likely to the very same folks who are always telling me how much they love Stephenson's previous novels, especially Snow Crash and Cryptonomicon. Meanwhile, Zoe Heller is nearing breakthrough status with her second novel What Was She Thinking?: Notes on a Scandal, which is about a teacher who carries on an affair with her fifteen year old student. It sounds trashy, but from what I hear it turns out to be a nuanced and moving character study. It's been short-listed for the Booker Prize and is beginning to sell accordingly. Also short-listed and selling incredibly well in England is Brick Lane by Monica Ali. Following in the footsteps of fellow young Londoner Zadie Smith, Ali's debut novel is another unsparing look at multi-cultural London. Finally, another debut, this one is a cleverly wrought time traveling romance by Audrey Niffenegger titled, appropriately, The Time Traveler's Wife. So there you go. A few things to read this fall. Stayed tuned for the next installment: new non-fiction.
We've been discussing the changing nature of the English language a lot here this week (from the rise of public English to the acceptance of "like"), but if there is one thing that's consistent in language, it's the word "huh." Linguists have studied 31 languages that all contain the interjection, making it one of the first universal words.
Though Elizabeth Crane's All This Heavenly Glory is billed as a collection of stories, after just a few, I shifted into novel mode, which was easy to do, seeing as the whole collection is about one character viewed in many snapshots from the age of 6 to 40, Charlotte Anne Byers. Those who who have read Crane before will be familiar with her rambunctious, elbows-flailing prose, in which the dependent clauses become so laden that they at times break free into outlines and lists. The effect of this stylistic departure from standard convention is, miraculously, not at all gimmicky, because a) Crane manages to keep those piled up words from toppling over, and b) it is in keeping with the persona of the character that she has created to inhabit this book. Because All This Heavenly Glory, necessarily, touches upon many trials and tribulations of girlhood and womanhood, it seems likely that it will have the "chick lit" moniker attached to it at some point. So be it. But what this book really is is an unflinching character study of a complicated person. Charlotte Anne is raised on the Upper West Side, comes of age in the 1970s in a family branched by divorce and remarriage, and endures a decade of being lost in her 20's - both geographically and spiritually. She is both foolish and clever, endearing and infuriating, hopelessly falling apart and really good at "having it together." Not all at the same time, of course. Crane tells Byers' story episodically, filled with details and discursions, and though the book threatens to come apart under the pressure of Crane's furiously frantic stylings, she manages to pull together an overarching narrative that is telling and poignant, less - and therefore more meaningful - than the sum of its frenetic parts.
Well, this is awkward. When the National Book Foundation announced its nominees last week for the Young People’s Literature category of the National Book Awards, they accidentally picked a book called Shine by Lauren Myracle when they really meant to pick Franny Billingsley’s Chime.
Recently, while re-reading Out Stealing Horses, I also happened to be rereading Hemingway, and it occurred to me that the two are similar. In Per Petterson's novel, as in many of Hemingway's, characters' lives - like real lives - are deeply rooted in the physical world. Even the narrator echoes Hemingway's narrators, saying at one point, "No one can touch you unless you yourself want them to." Yet unlike many American novels with fully drawn-out dramas, Out Stealing Horses is written in a quiet, controlled manner that offers glimpses of W.G. Sebald. If resonating with the work of either Hemingway or Sebald is enough to make a novel good, Out Stealing Horses, with its echoes of both, is a rare book indeed. Read an excerpt from Out Stealing Horses. More Best Fiction of the Millennium (So Far) Best of the Millennium, Pros Versus Readers
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