Thinner, by Richard Bachman

I'm always a little confused by authors who use pseudonyms but are also like, "I am totally this person," so people will read their books. Like I've cataloged a few books that are authored by NORA ROBERTS (writing as J.D. Robb) or... someone whose name I forget where her author bio is like "This Person is the pseudonym of That Other Person." Why are we bothering with the pseudonym, then?

All this is to say that I didn't actually realize this was a Richard Bachman book until well after I started listening, because everything I looked at was all STEPHEN EFFING KING all the time. It is also to say that when people know they are reading a Stephen King book it is a little weird to hear the narrator talking about how it's like he's in a Stephen King book, but according to my friend Cory this is not an unusual thing to happen in a King novel. I don't know if that's good or bad.

Aaaaanyway the novel. I had actually thought this was a short story, because the plot — a heavy guy gets cursed to become thinner, which is cool until all of a sudden he can barely eat enough to survive — did not seem like a story that could be sustained over 10 hours(!). And indeed, there were a few parts where I was like, "Okay I get it let's move it along now?"

But on the whole the story was delightfully horror-ful. It starts with a guy, Billy, who's like, "That creepy gypsy guy was creepy. Why did he say 'THINNER' at me?" And then he's all losing weight, and you find out that the creepy gypsy guy said that because Billy ran over the gypsy's daughter who ran out into the street and so he was found not guilty of manslaughter or whatever except that then it turns out that maybe he wasn't quite so not guilty after all? And maybe the gypsy isn't only targeting him? But Billy is a lawyer, so he's gonna fight back, even if he has to drive all the way up to Maine (you knew Maine was in here somewhere, didn't you?) to find these gypsies and bitch at them. Because that's really what it boils down to.

And really, the driving up I-95 bit could have just been completely excised from the story, because I really do understand that gypsies are creepy, and also why is it that everyone is like "Man, I haven't seen a gypsy in like 25 years" and then at the EXACT SAME TIME like "Oh, gypsies. You know how they roll." Do you? Are you sure?

But the whole cursing aspect is interesting, and Billy's visits to the other afflicted-types are quite creepy, and the ending is the only possible ending I would have accepted for Billy so it's fine that it's pretty well telegraphed. Also, I knew I liked Joe Mantegna, the audiobook narrator, from his work on the teevee, but seriously that man can read a book. He did some fantastic voice work to the point where I was sometimes like, "Isn't Joe Mantegna reading this book? Who is this guy? That is Joe Mantegna? Are you sure?" I think he should probably read every Stephen King book, because he can make with the spooky and terrifying. Maybe he should do a version of The Turn of the Screw! How much would it cost to commission that?

Recommendation: On the whole, I enjoyed my ten hours with Stephen and Joe. Especially Joe. And while I think the novel should be much much shorter, I do still think it's worth a read if you're in the mood for some gruesome.

Rating: 8.5/10 (bonus points for Joe!)
(RIP Challenge, What's in a Name Challenge)

V for Vendetta, by Alan Moore

...Interesting. That's how I would describe this book. I love the movie version, which I've watched at least once a year (on Guy Fawkes Night, natch) for the past several years, and this year someone reminded me that it was, you know, a graphic novel first, and maybe I should read it? Yes, maybe I should. So I requested it from the library, and it took forever to arrive, and then I renewed it a couple of times, and then finally I says to myself, "Self, you've gotta just read this thing. Go." So I did. It took a while, largely because I started a job in the middle of it and I'm still working out how to read print books (I listen to audiobooks at work) on my new schedule. But I read it and it was interesting.

The story is this: There's a dude, and he's called V, and he dresses like Guy Fawkes, and he blows some stuff up, and you're like, cool. He is blowing stuff up because he lives in a fascist state run by basically Big Brother, with help from a computer, so we've got some good dystopian tropes in there. At some point, he saves a girl called Evey from some police-type people who are going to do terrible things to her, and she sort of becomes his apprentice. Also, the fascist state does not like V and is hunting him down, and slowly learning his backstory (which is kind of nuts) in the process.

The book is actually quite different from the movie — and this necessarily is how I have to approach this review — with more creepiness in V's backstory and seedier government officials, and actually much less blowing stuff up, which is disappointing but understandable for the medium. I quite liked all of the extra things I learned about Larkhill, where V was imprisoned, because it made V make more sense, but much of the stuff I learned about the government officials (they're corrupt! promiscuous! ne'er-do-wells!) was rather tedious. More creepy smiling masked people, please!

All in all, I did like the novel, but it won't top my yearly dose of explodey things any time soon.

Recommendation: Definitely read it if you've seen the movie, or if you generally like dystopia and intrigue in pictorial form.

Rating: 8/10
(A to Z Challenge)

The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho

Before we get into this review, I must make a slightly rambling confession about how terrible I am at challenges this year. I quit two earlier this year for lack of caring, promising myself I would instead focus on the challenges I wanted to do. But somehow this Orbis Terrarum one just completely fell off my radar. It was looking like I would fail, but then I discovered that there were a few foreign books that I hadn't counted, them being from places like Canada and England, but even then I still needed one more. So I grabbed this book in audio form, intending to listen to it on the trip to Cleveland, but then I didn't, and then all of a sudden it was practically the end of November (the ending date for the challenge) and I was like, "Noooo I'm going to faaaaail," but then I found the book in print form at the library and I was like, "Yaaaaaay I'm not going to faaaaail," and then I read this in a few hours because it's rather short and finished the challenge with probably two hours to spare.

Ahem. What you should take away from that story is that I did not spend as much time with this book as one really ought to. It is strange and slightly difficult to follow at times, and while I think I understand some of what the book was trying to say, I am positive that I don't have it all. I think this is one of those books that you need to read several times before you can stop only pretending to know what it's about.

After reading number one, though, I can safely say that a major theme here is that everyone has something they need to do, and not terribly many people ever do that. The story follows along with a Spanish shepherd as he has a strange dream, finds out that the dream means he should go to the pyramids in Egypt and find a treasure, and then sets off to do that. He gets stopped several times along the way and thinks, "Ah, perhaps this thing that is not finding treasure is what I am really meant to do, I should just chill here for the rest of ever," but always something pushes him on to his goal, and he eventually makes it to the pyramids and also learns how to become the wind, which is a pretty cool trick, I'd say.

This theme is interesting, because at first when the concept of a Personal Legend (this thing you need to do) came up, I was thinking it was along the lines of following your bliss or doing what you want to do rather than what others want you to. But that's not it at all — there are many times when the shepherd knows exactly what he wants to do, but if it's not finding that treasure then something happens or someone talks to him to change his mind. So that's rather disappointing, because I'm sitting here not even knowing what I want to do, let alone knowing what strange path has been carved out for me that I ought to go seek out to find true happiness and fulfillment. Scratch disappointing, that's downright depressing!

But another interesting thing that Coelho touches on is that people get even more depressed if they figure out what it is that they ought to be doing but for whatever reason, actual or mental, are unable to do it. So I suppose I could be feeling worse right now!

This is definitely a book that I will read again sometime, and probably will tell other people to read so that they can talk about it with me.

Recommendation: For those with some time for deep thought and at least a passing interest in philosophy.

Rating: 8/10
(Orbis Terrarum Challenge, Support Your Local Library Challenge)

See also:
[your link here]

Pass me yours, if you've got 'em.

Matilda, by Roald Dahl

Oh, Matilda. This was my first-ever Dahl book, and in fact the only one I'd read until reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory this January. Good thing I bought that boxed set, so I can catch up!

Anyway, I read this in fifth grade as part of the not-yet-awesome Project Plus gifted program in my elementary school, and it was pretty much the greatest thing we did all year, or at least the most memorable. What smart 11-year-old doesn't wish for super powers beyond just being good at math and reading? Not me, that's for sure. I tried for weeks to move pencils and whatnot off of desks before realizing that my life wasn't quite crappy enough for making magic happen.

If you haven't read Matilda, I highly recommend it — it's the story of an incredibly precocious girl whose parents couldn't care less about her, who ends up at a school with a terrible headmistress but a wonderful teacher who helps Matilda realize her potential, both in school and in a bit of magic.

Of course, if you have kids of your own you might want to keep this out of their hands for a while, because Matilda isn't a little angel... she is very good at exacting revenge on those who make life difficult for her. At the very least, make sure that your peroxide and superglue are well hidden for several months after any nearby children read this book!

Recommendation: Excellent for precocious children, or former precocious children, or people who like to read about precocious children. Now precocious doesn't look like a word anymore.

Rating: 10/10
(Flashback Challenge)

See also:
Book Nut

Pass me yours, if you've got 'em.

The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood (4 July — 5 July)

I was on vacation at the beach for four days last weekend and brought only two books with me. A serious mistake! I was done with them by the morning of the third day. Luckily, Scott's family are voracious readers as well, and the beach house (which they own) was stocked with books. While I could have read A Very Naughty Angel (no really, I did find such a book on the shelf!), I chose to go with something a little deeper. I had been meaning to read The Handmaid's Tale anyway, so good job, me.

Let me just start with this: this book is disturbing. Seriously disturbing, in that way where the premise seems implausible but then you start to see how it could maybe be plausible and then you think it might be a good idea to rally against a cash-less society because it could lead to you becoming a handmaid. Yeah. Think 1984 or The Stepford Wives if you've read them. Disturbing.

All right. So this book is, as you may have guessed, about a handmaid. But in this (disturbing) dystopian world, a Handmaid doesn't do, you know, maid things. See, the American birth rate has dropped below a replacement rate, partly because pollution is causing "shredder" (deformed) babies. So a Handmaid is brought in to a household when a Wife can't provide her high-ranking husband with a child, because children are very important, unless they're girls. Once a month, the Wife sits behind the Handmaid as Mr. Man-pants does his thing, and the Handmaid hopes beyond hope that Mr. Man-pants's man-parts work and that she gets pregnant and that she never gets sent away to the Colonies as an Unwoman who gets to clean up toxic waste. Also, women aren't allowed to read or own property, and Handmaids don't even get to use their own names.

It takes a while for the story to get that far. Atwood sort of eases the reader into Offred's (read: of fred's) world, interspersing the dreary present with the past that looks suspiciously like America in the 1980s (when this book was written) and the interim in which Offred is taken away from her life and her husband and child. I wasn't thrilled with the first few chapters, but since I knew better was coming I held on, and then the book got really good and really, you know, disturbing.

Rating: 8.5/10
(My Year of Reading Dangerously Challenge)

Audiobook Round-up

I got back last night from a week-long camping trip in Alabama, which was awesome. Less awesome is all the internet catching-up I have to do!

Because of the twelve-hour drive, I decided to collect a bunch of audiobooks from the library's fancy-pants online trove of such things. Scott loves them, but I'd never given them a real try. Now I have, and... well. I was right — I can't focus on an audiobook to save my life. So. No ratings (or even decent reviews) for these until I read them proper, but here's the list of things I listened to in the car last week.

Dave Barry's Greatest Hits, by Dave Barry (22 March)
This is a 1988 collection of Barry's columns, which shows in all his talk about Reagan as president! I like Barry, so I enjoyed listening to this hour-long book while I tried to stay awake (we left home at 6am!). Bonus points for having John Ritter as a narrator.

More of Dave Barry's Greatest Hits, by Dave Barry (22 March)
I can't seem to find this listed anywhere but fancy-pants online troves of audiobooks, so this is possibly audiobook-only. Unsure. Anyway, this is the 1996 collection of awesome columns. Still entertaining. Still narrated by John Ritter. Still capable of keeping me awake, if not listening properly.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde (28 March — 29 March)
I knew the general idea going in, of course — Dorian Gray has a painting that ages while he stays young. That turns out to be a gross over-simplification of this novel, which deals with heavy themes of morality and ethics and deception. Grey likes his painting at the beginning, but as it ages and the bad things he's done show up in it he comes to loathe it. And his loathing of it has him doing even more bad things that show up in it. And all the while he has an angel-friend telling him how good he is, and a devil-friend spouting off ridiculous (even to him) notions of how the world works. I definitely enjoyed this book, but I will have to go back and read it to pick up on the hour or two I missed of it!

(Support Your Local Library Challenge)

Pillars of the Earth, by Ken Follett (19 October − 27 December)

Good job, Alison! I finally (finally!) finished this book, which, as you can see, I've been working on for two months. Now, obviously, I've read maybe a few other books since I've started this one, so two months is not terribly pathetic, but it certainly feels like I've been reading this forever.

Pillars of the Earth tells the stories of a whole bunch of interconnected people — Tom, whose life goal is to be master builder on a cathedral; Phillip, a monk in a small cell who hopes to make his priory strong; William, whose marriage to a girl called Aliena is called off by the girl herself and who decides to take revenge on, well, everyone; Aliena, who vows to right the wrongs done to her family; and Jack, who loves Aliena from the moment he meets her. It's all set over many years in the 1100s and brings in a lot of history, like the fighting between King Stephen and Empress Maud and later the murder of Thomas Becket.

It's really very good. The problem I had with it is that it's just so long! At 983 pages, it's definitely the longest novel I've ever read. I just could not focus on it for more than an hour at a time when I started it, so I relegated it to my at-work bathroom reading since the book is surprisingly small and easier to fit in my bag than many of the books I read. Hooray mass-market paperbacks.

Brilliantly, though, and as I would have hated had I read this more quickly, Follett spends more than a few sentences of the novel reminding the reader what has happened in the past. I caught myself a few times going, "Oh, right, Ellen did curse that fellow at the beginning of the novel!" and such.

You should read this if you have a few months to spare, or a long weekend with nothing to do.

Rating: 7/10

Misery, by Stephen King (4 October — 12 October)

My second book for the RIP Challenge... I'm a little bit behind in getting to four, but I think I can make it yet, as I've just started two challenge-appropriate books.

Misery is about an author called Paul Sheldon who gets into an horrific car crash and wakes up as the ward of a nurse, Annie Wilkes, who just so happens to be Paul's self-proclaimed "number one fan." Unfortunately, her love of Paul — and his series of popular fiction novels about a woman called Misery — coexists with a fragile mind that isn't prepared to let Paul go any time soon. She also has a bit of a mother mentality — when Paul does something bad, like, say, kills off Misery or tries to escape his captor, he's in for a world of hurt, both mentally and physically.

I very much liked this book. At first, I wasn't sure it would really classify as an RIP Challenge book, as there wasn't anything particularly scary or gory about the storyline, just a crazy lady keeping an author hostage. But when it started getting creepy, it was creepy. I was constantly stopping in the middle of a paragraph, looking at my man, and yelling, "This woman is CRAZY!" Let's just say I'm glad I'm not popular enough to be kidnapped any time soon.

Rating: 8/10