#40 - "Dead Until Dark" by Charlaine Harris

I have a feeling I'll be reading a lot of vampire books this year. Not my usual genre, but I just can't seem to get away from them, and they all seem to be part of some large series. Dead Until Dark (2001) by Charlaine Harris looks like it's book one of eight. And then I guess I should just admit I have Twilight on hold at the libary. I couldn't help myself anymore; it was everywhere. It's probably sad that the Denver Public library has more copies of Twilight and a longer wait for them than I've seen for any other book, but I am trying to withhold any opinion until I read it for myself.

Anyway, I was initially interested in Trueblood, the new HBO show created by Alan Ball. I really liked Six Feet Under and figured this new show had to be good as well. I was all ready to put it on my Netflix queue. Then I heard other Cannonballers discussing and generally recommending the books that created the basis for the show and that's how I found Dead Until Dark.

Sookie Stackhouse is a young waitress in a small town in Louisiana, near New Orleans. Her parents are dead and she lives with her grandmother a couple miles away from the bar where she works. Sookie struggles with what she calls her "disability." She can read minds, a fascinating talent to be sure, but one that is incredibly distracting and difficult for her. Sookie Stackhouse's world includes vampires, a recently legally recognized but still often stigmatized group of society. But vampires had never ventured into Bon Temps before, preferring to stay in New Orleans. Until Bill the vampire comes into the bar. And then women start turning up dead. Generally these women are are young, uneducated, with menial jobs, and some kind of connection to vampires. Women exactly like Sookie.

This book was a fast read: light, entertaining, funny, and often thrilling. I enjoyed reading it and am now, for better or for worse, on the hook for reading the rest of them. Sookie is a likeable character, independent and funny. She is someone who has avoided and put her guard up around men because of her telepathy, but as soon as the book starts every man and vampire in the vicinity is lusting after her. There is also the never-gets-old struggle between whether Sookie should choose the bad boy or the loving, dependable boy. I almost felt like I was back watching My So-Called Life with Jordan Catalano (sigh) and Brian.

But let's talk for a minute about the main theme of the book: vampire sex. And what I mean is human women having sex with vampires. At first it sounds pretty thrilling. Vampires have some kind of mysterious powers, so the sex is apparently really good. And vampires are incredibly strong and powerful and at least Harris's vampires most often just take a little blood at climax, rather than killing everyone they're with. That all sounds kind of fun, and even the biting your neck sounds kind of hot. But then I started thinking about the reality of having bite wounds all over your neck. Or would the vampire keep biting in the same place if you were with him more than once? Once I imagined the pain of teeth sinking into a newly healed wound, ugh, that doesn't sound so hot anymore. And vampires apparently often feel cool to the touch. I wouldn't want to lay next to something that felt like a dead fish. Not so sexy anymore. But as long as you don't think about it too hard, it's still kind of hot.

And I guess that brings me to one little thing about Sookie's character that occasionally bothered me. Considering the entire book is full of sex, often weird and disturbing kinds of sex, Sookie can be kind of judgy. She's innocent and often "tries to look modest," and in one scene she's reading the minds of people at a bar and says with disgust, "These people are boring. All they're thinking about is sex." Considering the entire book is about sex, and that's all that's on her mind as well, I found that a little harsh and hypocritical. I think if you're going to write a titillating book full of sex, you should just own up to it rather than try to have it both ways by knowingly including the sex and then denouncing it. It's like that holier-than-thou attitude of Dateline when they do that show about catching child molesters on the internet. Most of the show is spent simply recounting every sordid thing the molester said and proposed to the pretend child in as much detail as is legally allowed. It just exploits the disturbing idea of sex with children more than it helps protect children.

#39 - "Crime and Punishment" by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I guess there are many reasons to read Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment (1866). It’s a classic novel that’s been famous for over a hundred years, translated and read throughout the world, with unforgettable characters, an exciting murder plot, and timeless issues of family, responsibility, poverty, absolution, and more. But Crime and Punishment has been in the back of my head as a to-be-read book for a much simpler reason. You see, I have a very vague memory of introducing myself to some guy during college. And after I said my name, his response was, “Like the prostitute?” “...???” “You know. From Crime and Punishment.” I actually knew nothing about Dostoyevsky’s selfless and angelic Sofia Semionovna, or Sonia, from Crime and Punishment at the time, but I was intrigued that a character with my name was bandying about in classic literature as a prostitute and I knew nothing about her. So many, many years later, I finally did something about it.

Dostoyevsky wrote a complex, layered, and intricate story in Crime and Punishment, which centers around a young, impoverished Russian student by the name of Rodion Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov is selfish, alienated and angry and decides to murder a mean, old pawnbroker woman, rob her and thereby improve his life. He is not a stupid man, but I have to say, this is not one of his better ideas. Admittedly he’s under a lot of pressure. He’s run out of funds and had to leave school. He had been doing some tutoring but it wasn’t making much of a difference and he could see the hopelessness of his situation. In addition, his mother was barely getting by and getting deeper into debt by the second, and his proud and intelligent sister was about to sell herself into marriage with a prick because of their desperate straits. He manages to rationalize that the old woman is a “louse,” a blight on the world that no one will miss, and if he takes the money he can change his life around and make many more positive differences in the world.

In a very anxiety-ridden chapter, Raskolnikov follows through on his idea. It doesn’t go exactly according to plan, but Raskolnikov does manage to get away. However, his life does not change for the better as he thought it would. Raskolnikov is plagued by fears, insecurities, madness, and fever. A 19th Century Russian Columbo is playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse. His mother and sister come to St. Petersburg for his sister’s marriage. Another man follows Raskolnikov’s sister to St. Petersburg to make a bid for her. And Raskolnikov also manages to get wrapped up in the haunting drama of another family, the Semionovna’s. Sofia Semionovna, or Sonia, is the eldest daughter of this family, forced into prostitution by the ineptness of her drunken father and poverty in order to provide for her father’s second wife, Katherine Ivanovna, and Katherine’s three girls. Sonia is a very haunting character, helpless and often scared but completely selfless and devoted. She is the one character that Raskolnikov can really talk to, and she basically manages to bring Raskolnikov back into the fold with her goodness.

What I liked about this book: The plot was generally unexpected, interesting, and fast-paced; and the characters were clearly written, well-defined, and often unforgettable. From the first page of Crime and Punishment where Raskolnikov is trying to sneak out of his apartment without being spotted by his landlady, I could relate to him. (It’s not that I don’t like my landlord or that I’m behind in rent, I just don’t want to discuss my current unemployment with him). There are some truly haunting scenes about the poor in St. Petersburg and the suffering and hopelessness they endure. I was almost brought to tears by a dream of Raskolnikov’s where a rowdy group of drunks beat a weak, old mare to its death. There is no question that Dostoyevsky is a powerful writer. I kind of wish I had read Crime and Punishment in a class where we would discuss and write about the various characters and their actions, why they acted a certain way, and what it means. There’s definitely a lot going on.

What I didn’t particularly care for: In some ways, Crime and Punishment can be seen as Raskolnikov’s journey back to God. According to the Translator’s Preface and the Introduction, Sofia Semionovna’s name means “divine wisdom.” Sonia is the agent who brings Raskolnikov back to God after he lost his way. Now, I’m not sure if this is exactly what Dostoyevsky was getting at, but on the whole, I don’t really buy into his whole theory. I don’t think you have to accept God to be a good person and denounce murder, even though there might be rational reasons for that murder. I also don’t think you have to accept God to be a good person. And it’s impossible to dislike a character as sweet and selfless as Sonia, but she is incredibly and frustratingly helpless and inactive. How can she be any kind of role model? Her father is a drunk, forcing his eldest daughter into prostitution for survival; yet she still gives him money whenever he asks and whenever she has it. Then she follows Raskolnikov wherever he goes even though he often treats her horribly. She meekly accepts whatever circumstances those around her throw her into and does nothing to change her situation. There are many interesting and strong women characters throughout the novel, and I’m not sure if Dostoyevsky was holding Sonia up as someone people should aspire to be or someone who is almost beyond human, but she did bother me sometimes. I was also bothered by some casual but insidious anti-semitism that was sprinkled throughout the novel that I couldn’t quite ignore or excuse.

And although I am a little disappointed in my namesake because I know I will never be like her (really, the character I most liked was Avdotia Romanovna, or Dunia, Raskolnikov's sister), I'm glad I finally read something by Dostoyevsky and made it through Crime and Punishment.

#38 - "The Ruby In the Smoke" by Philip Pullman

Every young adult book I can think of has an orphan as the protagonist. This includes Harry Potter, Lyra (kind of) in Pullman's Dark Series, Liesel Meminger from The Book Thief, and Sally Lockhart from the latest young adult book I recently picked up, The Ruby in the Smoke (1985) by Philip Pullman. I would guess the appeal of orphaned heros has something to do with tweens' and teenagers' strive for independence and such, but now I'm curious if I can think of any young adult books that have main characters with parents playing an actual role in their lives. Not offhand.

I read Philip Pullman's Dark Materials Series when my cousin recommended it, and I loved it. It was dark, exciting, intricate and incredibly creative, so I decided to read some more of Pullman. The Ruby in the Smoke is an earlier book of Pullman's and the first novel of another trilogy; it's an action/adventure/mystery set in London in 1872. Sally Lockhart is an unconventional sixteen-year-old girl who is living with her mean and bitter relative because her father recently died abroad a ship in the East. She gathers around a number of interesting supporting characters around her as she attempts to discover the mysteries surrounding her past and her father's death.

I don't feel very strongly about this book. It was a fun read and an interesting story. I liked the characters and I wasn't bored, but it didn't seem as magical or elaborate as The Dark Materials. I've gotten attached enough to some of the characters that I'm a little concerned about some of them, though; and I'm definitely going to finish the rest of the series.

#37 - "Eats, Shoots & Leaves" by Lynne Truss

I first thought that Eats, Shoots & Leaves (2003) by Lynne Truss would be too short for Cannonball Read, but when I spotted it in the library, it measured in at a surprisingly wordy 204 pages (not even including the Foreward and Preface). Eats, Shoots & Leaves has been on my radar for awhile, but I was recently reminded of my lack of practical grammar and punctuation knowledge while reading Consider the Lobster, which included David Foster Wallace’s essay on grammar and usage. Some of my more obsessive compulsive tendencies would naturally put me more in the more “stickler" cateogry, but a general lack of formal grammar learnin’ often leaves me guessing as to what is correct, what is not, and what can be left up to my discretion.

Eats, Shoots & Leaves was a rather fun and informative book. The running theme is Truss’s love of the English language and the importance of punctuation in communicating fully and clearly through writing. Truss illustrates the necessity of punctuation through a couple of examples, including:

A woman, without her man, is nothing.

A woman: without her, man is nothing.

Truss then goes on to explain the history, basic rules, and general guidelines for some punctuation marks, including: the period (or in England, full stop), comma, apostrophe, colon, semi-colon, dash, exclamation mark, italics, and the ellipsis. Truss even manages to fit in a little rant against emoticons near the end. Now, I don’t have any particular interest in the history of punctuation, but there is just enough here to give some kind of context for how writing has developed throughout the centuries.

Truss writes in a friendly, engaging, and often amusing manner that made this book easy to read; she manages to go over the main rules without being pedantic, monotonous or boring. This book is certainly not thorough enough to use as a grammar or punctuation reference, but it was an entertaining way to refresh my memory on some of those pesky punctuation rules. Probably most important, though, is Truss’s call for society to defend the importance of clear, thoughtful writing and not to surrender to the wayward pressures of lazy e-mailing and texting habits but to continue to pursue the quality and subtlety of the English language made possible through punctuation.

#36 - "Planet India" by Mira Kamdar

I decided to read Planet India (2006) by Mira Kamdar directly after reading The White Tiger, which is now one of my favorite books. With my interest in India at an all time high and my actual knowledge at incredible depths, any book would probably have been informative, but Planet India was also one of the books listed in the Reader's Guide for further reading at the end of The White Tiger, so I picked it up. And I was immediately transported back to my undergraduate days where I was enjoying life and majoring in International Relations. Now that I have matured and evidently turned all cynical and apathetic when it comes to news and politics, finding most of it propagandic in nature, it's been awhile since I've really studied and thought about other countries, their relationships, and their effect on the rest of the world, preferring to stick my head in the sand rather than contemplate how we keep screwing up. But India is an incredibly complex and fascinating country. I feel like I could read about India, its history, its people, religions, clashes, poverty, etc. forever and still have something to learn. Planet India was probably a good first step on this journey, giving a pretty comprehensive overview of the major issues India faces today.

All books reflect their author's biases, hopes, and political leanings, and Planet India is certainly no different. Mira Kamdar currently lives in New York, but she spent some time in India when she was growing up and still has family in India. She is a Senior Fellow at the World Policy Institute and has provided expert commentary for CNN International News, the BBC, and NPR. She identifies and is proud of India and has a generally liberal outlook, all of which is clear from her writing.

Planet India begins by discussing the importance of India to the world, especially with the recent technological boom that has money from all over the world, including the United States, flowing into the country. India is the world's largest democracy with growing purchasing and political power. Not only is India an important location for outsourcing cheap labor, but also selling American goods to a newly-funded, young Indian population that is ready to spend. Kamdar discusses the business side of Italy by interviewing many prominent Indian business people. I found this section of the book to be the most difficult to read. I am always more interested in social and human stories than the tales of companies and the billions of dollars they are making. In addition, I felt that Kamdar often made unsubstantiated statements or opinions, most often without enough explanation and sometimes highlighting her nationalism. Sometimes these statements, I think, are more what she wants India to become, but this isn't always clear. For instance, Kamdar says that Brazil gained wealth but wasted that opportunity by letting the wealth disparity increase instead of bringing up the country as a whole--unlike India. Of course, just a couple pages later, Kamdar says the wealth disparity in India is increasing as well. I certainly got the impression that the first section of the book was a little inflated with pride for India and some optimistic bragging, which sometimes made it hard to get a clear picture of what life is actually like for the people there.

Kamdar certainly does not ignore the poverty in her country, though. She talks about the slums and the construction workers, basically homeless, who live in tents or under tarps right next to the glamorous and luxurious apartments, malls, and offices they are building. Kamdar discusses the incredible problems of the farmers who live in the 600,000 villages throughout India, including the rash of suicides that coincided with the hopelessness of dealing with: debt, failing crops, a starving family, and having no way out. She also mentions the water crisis, the lower status of women in society and its effects, various environmental crises, enormous rates of poverty and illiteracy, castes in India, government corruption, hate and violence between Hindus and Muslims, as well as recent, violent terrorist attacks. I certainly would have liked more information on these social issues, but there is only so much you can fit in one book.

I could probably continue writing about this book and the goings-on of India forever and still want to write more. Kamdar convinced me of the importance of India as a growing power in world relations as well as influence in America as the Indian-American population increases. I am now even more interested in reading about the social history of India and maybe getting some other opinions on what India needs to do to successfully deal with its crises and if it can be successful at educating, providing basic needs, and finding jobs for its many, many citizens that currently live in poverty with few, if any, opportunities.

#35 - "The Spy Who Came In From the Cold" by John Le Carré

Apparently I've been missing out on "the best spy story" ever by not reading The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (1963) by John Le Carré. Fortunately that has now been remedied. I'm not sure I've read any spy books written before 1963, so I am not in a position to judge if this book was an important turning point for the genre, but I have to admit that on the whole it was pretty good.

Alec Leamas has been working for British Intelligence since World War II, and in Berlin during the Cold War for over ten years. He's disillusioned, cynical, hard, and alone. The book begins with Leamas watching from the guard station as his last agent in East Berlin is shot and killed at the checkpoint between East and West Berlin, only yards from safety as he tries to escape. A cruel and relentless man in East Germany named Mundt is primarily responsible for the loss of Leamas' agents, and after Leamas returns to England, his superiors offer Leamas a final mission: to take out Mundt. Along for a part of the story is a young, somewhat idealistic woman named Liz who falls for Leamas. At first I found her helplessness and lack of direction and backbone kind of irritating, but by the end of the book she redeems herself by growing into her own and becoming the conscience of the story.

From the very beginning, the plot is filled with unexpected twists and turns. I spent a lot of the book feeling kind of confused, having a couple possible scenarios in my head of where Le Carré was going, and wanting to read on to see what would happen. I felt the first twist was a little contrived, but the rest were pretty satisfying, and Le Carré managed to keep me wondering until the end. The best thing about this book, though, is that Le Carré doesn't glamourize his protagonist or the spy profession. Instead, he unveils a world of confusion, danger, shadowy characters, and moral ambiguity. The spying game is often a clumsy bureaucracy where people's lives are traded with impunity and often for very little in return. British Intelligence didn't have any problem sacrificing some individuals for their causes. But it's ironic that Communism is the paradigm that allows for individual sacrifices. So, what were they really fighting for? I'm guessing this question was even more resonant with readers during the Cold War when the book was first published, but it still rings true today.

#34 - "The Reader" by Bernhard Schlink

I picked up The Reader by Bernhard Schlink after seeing another Cannonball Reader review of the novel. German is technically my second language, so if I had been truly ambitious, I would have read it in German. Fortunately for me, I'm not that motivated and the English version was just fine. And now that I read it, I'm not quite sure what I thought of it. The Reader is definitely a thought-provoking and powerful story that touches on questions of morality, blame, and atonement. I appreciated that it was well-written, and I was glad I read it, but it doesn't quite make my favorites list.

The story is told from the point of view of Michael Berg and begins when he is a fifteen-year-old boy living in Germany. When he is sick on his way home from school, Hanna Schmitz, a thirty-six year old woman, helps him. Once Michael has recovered he returns to Hanna to thank her for her help, and from there a sexual relationship develops. Later in Michael Berg's life he finds himself a spectator to her trial for murder. This book is pretty short and it's probably best that you know as little as possible before reading it, so you can view the characters without any preconceptions, but the relationship and the trial constitute pretty much the whole plot.

I appreciated how Schlink managed to tell such a straight, simple story with so many layers of gray and questions of morality. Although it might be easy to simply condemn Hanna for sexually preying on a fifteen-year-old, I could sense there was a story and force behind her actions that did not excuse her behavior but might have explained it. This is even more explicit during the trial, in what I thought was the strongest section of the book. Hanna is on trial for a horrible crime and she is probably guilty. But at the same time she is weak and naive and losing because she was a part of a system that she couldn't avoid. And now that the system has changed she doesn't know how to work within it, and she's become a scapegoat despite the real guilt of many others. You can't help but feel sorry for her. Some of Hanna's worst actions were her failure to act, and what makes this book even more intriguing is that Michael Berg, the other defendants, the other witnesses, and a large section of society in this novel, are also guilty of failing to act.

The third section of the book I did not find quite as powerful as the second section. Maybe I just didn't connect enough with the characters to really care about them, but it's probably the third section that keeps this book from being one of my top favorites even though it is so well-written. I'd definitely recommend it, though, and I hope the movie does it justice.

#33 - "Yes Man" by Danny Wallace

Yes Man (2005) by Danny Wallace was another one of those books on display at the bookstore that caught my attention. I think the first time I noticed it I didn't even know there was a movie coming out, but the idea sounded interesting enough, so I put it on hold at the library. And now that I've read it, I can say I enjoyed it; it was a quick, fun, and entertaining book.

Danny Wallace is a twenty seven year-old English bloke living and sometimes working in London. His girlfriend has recently dumped him and he's feeling down, staying in a lot, and neglecting his friends. He decides that he needs to change his life around and as another "stupid boy project" decides to embrace the idea of being a "Yes Man." He vows to say yes to every favor, request, suggestion, and invitation. He first tries out his new philosophy for just a day but quickly decides that one day is not long enough to make any lasting changes and subsequently promises to say "yes" to everything for the rest of the year.

This book was easy to read and consistently entertaining. I found myself laughing out loud more than once. What's even more suprising to me, considering how much I enjoyed reading it, was that looking back, Danny doesn't actually do all that much. Many of the funniest parts of the book come from Wallace's superior storytelling abilities and not necessarily from the action. Danny travels, he takes some drugs, he goes out more, he gets a lot of credit cards, and has to deal with spam e-mails, but nothing he does is really extraordinary.

And that is true for Danny's philosophy as well. One of the blurbs on the cover of the book say, "[o]ne of those rare books that actually has the potential to change your life." Now, it's definitely fascinating to think, "what would happen to me if I said 'yes' to everything?" Or, "Hmmm, maybe it would be helpful to try to be more open to new ideas, experiences, and people." But it takes about two seconds before deciding that saying "yes" to everything is a horrible idea that pretty much guarantees a waste of money and time on things of little interest to you. Sure, once in awhile you might meet some captivating person at a party that you thought would be a bore, but some of the random shit Danny did was truly pointless. And the lesson Danny learns, that saying 'yes' is good and can have unintended, life-changing consequences, while saying 'no' is also important, is already self-evident to a vast majority of the population. But Danny Wallace is a likeable character and a gifted storyteller, and I had a good time reading about six months of his life.

As far as the book's move to a movie, I find it difficult to imagine a good movie coming from this material. I can easily put Yes Man and Marley and Me into the same category. Both were enjoyable books that made me laugh out loud. Nothing truly extraordinary or especially meaningful happens in either book, but it's the charisma of the storyteller and his relatable, humorous story that catches readers and draws them along. Now, I haven't seen either movie, but it sounds as though the film makers were not able to translate that to the screen. I also have an incredibly hard time with Jim Carrey as the main character. Maybe I'm just a fan of accents, but the whole account was a lot funnier when I imagine the narrator as a young, English bloke. This might be because the humor is more stereotypically "English," often understated and satirical. And Danny Wallace played it pretty straight and sincere throughout the book. Jim Carrey just does not seem like a good fit for this character. Oh well, doubtful I'll ever watch the movie anyhow.

#32 "The Best American Short Stories" ed. by Salman Rushdie

I'm pretty sure I came across The Best American Short Stories (2oo8) when I was browsing in the bookstore one day. I rarely read short stories, so I figured this book might be a nice change of pace and expose me to some new writers and writing styles that I've been missing. The 2008 edition of this series is edited by Salman Rushdie and consists of twenty short stories by twenty different authors. There are also short notes from the authors at the end of the book, which were helpful in getting the authors' reasons and inspirations for their stories. I haven't read any of Rushdie's books, but I've certainly heard of him, so I figured I could trust him to pick out some short stories for me to read.

I think I've decided that I'm not super excited about the short story format. There's no question that all the stories I read were good and many were moving and thought provoking. And I plan on reading the 2009 version of Best American Short Stories. I also appreciate how difficult it must be for writers to create characters and stories that mean something with so few words. On the whole, though, I think I prefer the depth and length of the novel, mainly because once I get invested in characters, I don't like to lose them again so quickly.

So, in the interests of time and space, I think I'll just mention some of my favorites stories. These were not necessarily the best written of the bunch, just the ones with the most relatable characters and stories that really spoke to me.

Child's Play by Alice Munro - This was probably my favorite story in the entire book. Munro managed to create full, believable characters and describe a life-changing event and its effects throughout their lives in one short story.

The King of Sentences by Jonathan Lethem - Two aspiring writers seek out their favorite author. This story made me laugh out loud, and was the one I had the most fun reading.

Puppy by George Saunders - One of the more complex and intriguing stories. Explores how people view themselves and how others view you all within the framework of a relatively disturbing tale.

Quality of Life by Christine Sneed - This one I found disturbing simply because of some parallels between the protagonist's life and mine. It was weirdly too personal at the beginning and kind of made me think about what I want to do with my life.

Missionaries by Bradford Tice - An interesting story. What I agreed with most was Tice's statement in the notes that, "[o]ne of the cheerless realities of organized religion, in my secular opinion, is that often its spokespersons, the advocates of faith, end up seeming like used-car salesmen, while the truly devout go voiceless." His story reflects this belief.

Some other notable stories include Admiral by T.C. Boyle and Man and Wife by Katie Chase, which both still have me thinking. I also enjoyed the characters, especially the main character in Virgins by Danielle Evans. The main character was likeable, strong, and understandable, even when she might be making mistakes.

#31 - "Consider the Lobster and Other Essays" by David Foster Wallace

Well it was bound to happen. Of course it's not possible for me to read only books that I love. And David Foster Wallace's Consider the Lobster and Other Essays (2006) broke my mini-streak of fantastic books that I've been reading lately. Consider the Lobster consists of ten essays of varying length on a myriad of subjects from porn to politics to literature. And although I really enjoyed some of his essays and insights, a rocky start led me to nearly abandon this book entirely.

I'm not even sure how I came to pick up this book, and when I started it I didn't know what to expect--knowing nothing about David Foster Wallace or having read anything by him before. So, it wasn't until I started writing this review that my curiosity led to a quick google search. And that's when I found out that not only did he teach at my alma mater, Pomona College, beginning the year after I graduated, but he also recently committed suicide. After pushing through to the essays I could relate to and actually enjoy, the news of his death I find especially sad because by the end of the book I had changed my initial negative impression of Wallace to someone who was sensitive and intellectually honest and with a unique perspective on some aspects of our world. It's too bad that there won't be anything more from him.

The first essay, Big Red Son, is a pretty long essay on the 1998's Annual Adult Video News Awards show held in Las Vegas and the cause of my initial negative impressions of Wallace. I started this essay pretty optimistically, assuming it would at the very least be interesting/entertaining/eye-opening. But after about fifteen pages, I started wondering how an essay on hardcore pornography could be such a drag to read. Wallace's apparent attitude towards his subjects also began to grate on my nerves. I felt that Wallace shifted between condescending and picky corrections of the porn industry's spelling and grammar errors and a fascination with the event--much like how an adolescent boy might react to seeing his first Playboy magazine. When Wallace discussed a "Mr. Vince Vouyer," of the porn industry, he "(sic)"ed him, and then "(sic[ed him], again)" the next time he wrote about him. This drove me crazy. Not only did I feel like Wallace, obviously a smart man, was simply making fun of those not as intelligent as him, but how can he sic someone's made up porn name? Can't they spell their made up name any way they choose? My other problem with this essay was the extensive footnotes that were obviously done on purpose, but I found them incredibly distracting and annoying. Wallace had footnotes to footnotes in tiny type and would go on forever, and which I consistently resented.

My impressions of Wallace did not improve considerably through the next couple of essays, and it wasn't until I reached Up, Simba that I really started to relate and like Wallace and his writing style. Up, Simba is a detailed account of Wallace and his thoughts as he follows the McCain campaign trail in South Carolina in 2000. Given that this essay was written eight years ago, it's surprisingly timely with the recently defeated McCain at its center and pertinent questions regarding the cynicism and show of politics today juxtaposed with our wish to really believe in someone. Wallace obviously admired McCain's forthright and honest persona, but he couldn't allow himself to trust that McCain was for real. I enjoyed reading about life on the campaign trail as well as Wallace's impressions of McCain, and I appreciated the relative lack of footnotes.

A couple other essays that I really enjoyed included Consider the Lobster and Host. Wallace follows a right-wing radio talk show host, giving the reader an inside look into the business as well as questioning where the media and news businesses are heading. Once again, Wallace goes a little crazy with the footnotes, this time putting them inside boxes located all over the page, but even though they were often interesting, I found them equally distracting. Consider the Lobster is a short essay about the Maine Lobster Festival, which digresses into a discussion about what a lobster feels when it is boiled alive to a short comparison with how other animals are slaughtered. As a vegetarian, I always appreciate it when non-vegetarians stop and think about where their food comes from. The hypocrisy of people who eat veal without a second thought but denigrate hunters for their "inhumanity" drive me crazy. I respect that hunters know exactly where their food comes from, and would be grateful if more people took the time to honestly reflect on the factory farms and suffering that their eating choices often entail and then make informed decisions rather than letting willful ignorance guide their way. Wallace never tells people what they should think about lobsters, but he brings up some honest questions about the consequences of our culinary choices that started to bother him at the Maine Lobster Festival. I appreciated his thoughtful honesty on the subject as well as his insight that he brought to some of his other essays. The more I read, the more I liked him, so by the end of the book my initital negative impression was almost completely erased.