#50 - "Shadow in the North" by Philip Pullman

When I started reading this book, I wondered why I had even bothered picking up the second book in the Sally Lockhart Trilogy by Phillip Pullman. It's not that Shadow in the North (1986) was bad, but the story was taking awhile to get started and it felt a little disjointed and forced. However the story picked up about halfway through and damn if Pullman didn't just suck me right into those characters' lives and make me care about them. He has a way of sneaking up on you, bringing adult themes into young adult novels that hit you harder than you would anticipate. And now I remember why I picked up the second book in the first place and why I will soon read the final novel. These novels might start a little slow and I still prefer Pullman's Dark Materials Trilogy, but they're still worth reading.

A number of years have passed since the first book of the trilogy and now it is 1878 in England and Sally Lockhart has studied at Oxford and started her own financial company, both quite unorthodox for women of that time. Fred and Jim, who were introduced in the first book, have become friends and started their own private investigative firm. Circumstances surrounding a client of Sally's as well an enigmatic magician who Jim meets draws them into a new mystery in need of solving. In addition, the burgeoning relationship between Sally and Fred, begun in the first book, has hit some rocks because Sally is not sure how she feels about Fred and is wary of giving up her independence.

The end of this book certainly made up for its slow beginning. There are a number of characters that I enjoyed reading about in the first book whose absence goes unexplained in the second, which I found kind of annoying; but this was perhaps understandable with so much passage of time between the two stories. And maybe the characters will make a reappearance in the final book. I just happened to notice that Shadow in the North is available on Netflix; it is classified as "television." While I read the book, I was thinking it would make a good movie, but I have no idea who made this version of the story, or if it's good, and I'm kind of afraid it will ruin the images in my mind.

#49 - "Alex and Me" by Irene M. Pepperberg

I needed a break from Lincoln, which has turned out to be just as detailed and politically dense as Founding Brothers, so I picked up Alex & Me (2008) by Irene M. Pepperberg. I was drawn to this book for a couple of reasons. Most importantly, as an animal lover, I think animal behavior and animal cognition are fascinating. I've read and seen pretty much everything I could find on Jane Goodall and the chimpanzees she studied in Africa. She's an amazing woman who I admire for her humanity, temerity, and contributions to science. But I know very little about how other intelligent animals think or possibly communicate with each other and with humans. I vaguely remember seeing an African Grey parrot on television accomplishing tasks I had thought impossible for a bird. The impression that parrots in general, and African Grey parrots in particular, were very intelligent animals was imprinted on my brain that day. And having read the book, I now think the parrot I saw on television must have been Alex. I wish I could see that footage again.

Irene Pepperberg, having just received her theoretical chemistry doctorate, decided that what she really wanted to do was explore intelligence and communication with African Grey parrots; so in 1977, she went to a pet store and the owner grabbed a random (domestically bred) African Grey from a cage. She called her new parrot Alex, and he became her co-worker and study subject for the next three decades. Alex constantly surprised critics and Pepperberg alike as he consistently proved his intelligence and communication abilities. Alex could "label" a certain number of objects, fully understanding their meaning and use the labels in communication. He learned numbers and even learned concepts such as "bigger" and "smaller." Pepperberg could put a number of objects on a tray and say "how many blue?" and Alex could say the correct answer. Even more telling, Pepperberg could put the arabic number 7 on one side and three blocks on the other and ask which was bigger. Even though the blocks look bigger to the eye, Alex would still say that the number 7 was bigger. He was that smart.

Pepperberg's book is definitely written for the layperson. It is short, easy to read, and free from scientific jargon. She tells quickly of some of the difficulties she had in finding funding and lab space for her project, and then short anecdotes about Alex, his behavior, and what he accomplished. Alex certainly had an alpha personality. He could be difficult and bossy and liked to order new student research assistants around. It was fun to read about him. The downside, though, was that I would have liked to have a little more scientific and background information. I know nothing about parrots, or any kind of birds for that matter, and any previous studies that may have been done with them. I also would have liked to know a little bit about how the intelligence of parrots and African Greys correspond to other animals; and whether African Greys' habitats and behavior in the wild might predispose them to more successful communication with humans. Apparently Pepperberg did write a more scientific book of her work with African Greys that might be helpful in this respect.

Alex died unexpectedly and prematurely in 2007. There's no telling what else he might have learned if he had been able to continue. But one of Alex's enduring lessons was to challenge our preconceived notions of animal, especially bird-brain, intelligence. Before Pepperberg started working with Alex, a couple of scientists tried training an African Grey and failed, deciding that parrots were simply too stupid. What they never considered was the possibility that they had not figured out a way to clearly teach and communicate with the parrot. Ignorant scientists are often more dangerous than ignorant laypeople, since the public often listens to "science" as if it's inherently rational, unbiased, and infallible. Scientific consensus well into the 1970's was that animals did not think at all. They felt no emotions; they merely reacted instinctively to stimuli around them. This position was rabidly defended, and all for the egotistical belief that only homo sapiens were capable of thought, communication, and tool-making. This same egotism led at different times to the declaration that the sun revolved around the earth and that women shouldn't run marathons because it could make their wombs drop. All knee-jerk reactions stemming from scientists' perceived superiority and ingrained biases. I think sometimes we're better off relying on our own common sense.

#48 - "Fire and Ice" by Julie Garwood

Fire and Ice (2008) by Julie Garwood was a nice little break from the history kick that I've been on recently. I didn't have to think and the pages just flew by, wasting some time and entertaining me. I don't know what it is about these books. I know exactly what's going to happen in the end (if not the precise means), yet I just can't put them down.

The plots of these stories are always a wee bit far-fetched and ridiculous, but this one works within the parameters of the story. To put it in its most basic terms: a small-newspaper reporter in Chicago and an FBI agent hook up and presumably live happily ever after. What keeps them apart for a very small time is the fact that he is an FBI agent and her father is a renowned white-collar thief, which has made her unappreciative of law enforcement; but this is just a small speed bump in the face of their overwhelming attraction to each other. And then there's the mystery of who is trying to kill our poor heroine and what happened to the subject of her last story who ended up dead in Alaska.

I can't help but compare Fire and Ice to Twilight. Sadly, for Stephenie Meyer, Julie Garwood wins out on writing ability and characterization. Even the minor characters had at least some kind of dimension, and they were all more likeable. I guess Meyer succeeded in having a more intractable and interesting problem keeping her lovers apart. Being an immortal "monster" and always wanting to kill your true love is a real problem. Garwood barely even bothers to make the whole FBI thing much of an issue, just gives them enough time to get attached to each other, which I kind of appreciated.

I think that I accept the predictability and unreality of these books when I otherwise wouldn't because of some kind of comfort in the wish fulfillment of the stories. I've realized I have no patience with this kind of storytelling when it's from the male perspective. One of the few books I stopped reading in the middle was some badly written novel about some guy wreaking vengeance for some reason or other and ending up with the woman. I couldn't stand it, and I assume that's how others who don't relate to the fantasy of the story would think of Fire and Ice, but I still enjoyed it.

#47 - "Founding Brothers" by Joseph J. Ellis

Founding Brothers (2000) by Joseph J. Ellis was a book I found because Sarah Vowell and Assassination Vacation got me all interested in the history of our presidents; so I decided to read some more on the subject. And after some digging around in the library, Founding Brothers looked pretty interesting, even though I wasn't quite sure what I was getting into.

In Founding Brothers, Ellis looks back at the founding of the United States by looking with great detail at six separate times in its early history, which he hopes can lead to some generalizations about how our country was formed. His theory is that the people instrumental in creating our country were performing a grand experiment. No revolution had successfully formed a Republic in the past and they didn't know if they would succeed or how it would work. Ellis tries to dislodge the comfort of looking back at history through our hindsight of knowing that the Constitution has weathered the years, that slavery was abolished, and that the United States became the most powerful nation in the world. At the time, all that was up for grabs. In most revolutions, once the people successfully fight off their common enemy, their major differences of opinion quickly split them apart once again and violence erupts, which the United States managed to avoid. Ellis seems to argue that this was because the founders of our country were just a small group of men who knew each other well and used their trust and personal relationships to avoid the floundering pitfalls that might have torn the country apart before it even got its footing.

The six chapters include: the duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr; a dinner with Jefferson, Madison, and Hamilton where a deal to allow Hamilton's financial plan to pass in exchange for the location of the capitol on the Potomac was finished; the discussions on slavery in the new Congress in the 1790's; Washington's farewell "address" to the nation when he voluntarily stepped down from office after two terms; Adams's subsequent presidency with his political foe Jefferson as vice-president; and finally, the extensive letter-writing discourse between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson that renewed their trust and friendship.

What was most striking about this book was how Ellis describes the "intentions of the founders." It's something that we still argue about all the time today. And Ellis suggests that their intentions were just as diverse and varying as ours are today. Whether it was the question of slavery or the role and power of the national government, for the most part, they just agreed to disagree and made the Constitution vague enough that it could be accepted.

I thought the most interesting chapters were the ones on the duel between Hamilton and Burr and Congress's deliberation on slavery. I had never read about the duel in so much detail, and it is just shocking to me that the Vice-President of the United States and one of its most important political leaders (with a wife and seven kids) would run around like juvenile kids with too much testosterone and shoot guns at each other over some name calling. Can you imagine if that kind of thing happened today? Anyway, Ellis uses this as an example of the one exception where violence broke out among the founders (and also because it's an interesting story).

The other really interesting chapter was the discussion on slavery in Congress. Some northern states wanted to abolish slavery. South Carolina and Georgia were vociferously opposed to any kind of interference with their livelihood and loudly declared their staunch arguments to Congress as well as threats of secession. Virginian leaders like Madison hypocritically tried to reconcile his position that slavery was an abhorrence, but at the same time opposed anyone messing with the economic interests or "property rights" of his state. The arguments of the extreme southern states embarassed him, but Madison couldn't write clearly or articulately when trying to describe his convoluted position. What happened in the end was that Congress decided they would ignore the issue of slavery. It was too big a problem, too entrenched in the South, and they were afraid to confront it. Ellis brings up the question, though, of what would have happened if Congress hadn't avoided this issue. Would it have torn apart the nation? Could we have avoided the Civil War?

I learned a lot from this book, and on the whole it was detailed and interesting. However, it did become a bit of a chore to read. I'm not a huge fan of politics, so the long-winded discussions of who disliked who, the power struggles, and who started leaking information to someone else because they couldn't tell them in person, got a little tedious for me. And Ellis certainly had his own perspective. He was obviously not a huge fan of Jefferson and I don't know enough history to know how accurate his portrayal of these men were. But I'm not sorry I read it; I learned a lot.

#46 - "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer

First things first. Even though Twilight (2005) by Stephenie Meyer is technically over 400 pages (even though the word/page ratio makes it read much faster), it unfortunately can't count for the 5K because I started reading it on the 13th. Plus the book I'm reading now is only 250 pages, so I've pretty much forfeited any chance at meaningfully participating in the 5K. But that's okay, my main goal is just to hit 50 books by the end of the month.

"My name is Bella Swan. Don't you get it? Bella because it means beautiful in French. And Swan because I was kind of like this ugly duckling back in Phoenix, but now that I've moved to the Northwest all the guys at my new school are totally into me. They follow me around and carry my books and the attention is, like, totally embarassing. My mom is my best friend in the whole world. I only came up here to live with my dad because she's super flighty and married this younger guy and doesn't want to live with me anymore. But I email her every once in awhile. When I'm not too busy. Because she's my best friend. I have some new friends at school, too, but they're all kind of boring and only care about boys. I just pretend to care, but I don't really like any of them. My new school is so easy. I've already read all the required books and done all the assignments because I'm so smart; I don't even know why I have to go anymore. But there is this boy, Edward, in my class who is beautiful, and even though he sometimes acts like he hates me, I can't stop thinking about him. Oh my, I've figured out that Edward is a 100-year-old vampire who came back to high school and we are in love and we are meant for eachother like real-life soulmates. I mean, we both read a lot and even own some of the same cd's. I guess it's kind of dangerous because he always has this strong urge to kill me, but he's also super protective of me, so I think it will work out in the end. Edward just needs to make me a vampire, so I don't get all ugly and old because that would be embarassing."

I wasn't sure if I was expecting to be pleasantly surprised or disappointed when I finally read Twlight, but it turned out to be pretty much as people said. On the whole, this book is not well written. Even the main characters are at most one dimensional, the plot is simple, and the writing can be very repetitive. But, it was also a book that was easy to read. I never wondered if I would be able to finish it, and I didn't find it offensive. (I was afraid I might run into some non-subtle preaching about the role of women and/or religion in society). Once Edward was introduced, I was propelled on by a curiosity of what vampire powers he had, and once things finally got a little dangerous, I even kind of got into the story. And Bella really gets less annoying the more time she spends with the vampires. And now I've been drawn in. Perhaps I'll be disappointed in the end, but I want to find out if and/or how they stay together.

Things I like about Twilight: The shiny, black book covers are appealing, simple and well designed. The guy who plays Edward in the movie (even though I haven't seen it) is awfully cute and...let's see, seven years younger than me...legal!

#45 "In the Heart of the Sea" by Nathaniel Philbrick

I figured In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex (2000) was going to be a good book. After all, it had won the National Book Award, and they don't give those awards out to just anyone. I just wasn't sure about the subject. I guess I'm always up for a good survival story, but whale hunting? the real-life story that spawned Moby Dick? I don't have anything against Herman Melville, but I've never been particularly interested in whale hunting or Moby Dick. For some reason I've always thought of it--and still do, actually--as a book for old men. So it was with some ambivalence that I picked it up, but once I started reading my doubts vanished, and I was quickly drawn into this well-told and fascinating story.

In 1820, the Nantucket whaleship Essex, after 15 months at sea, was rammed and sunk by a sperm whale. Twenty men were left thousands of miles from land with only three small whaleboats to take them across the ocean to safety. As the reader, you know that only eight of the twenty men survive. And because you hear the story from the mouths of two of the survivors: the first mate, Owen Chase; and the fifteen-year-old cabin boy George Nickerson, you know that these two will make it, but the rest of the survivors are unknown until near the end. I found myself in the middle of the book playing with numbers, trying to figure out if all three whaleboats could have found safety with only eight survivors.

Perhaps even more interesting than the actual descriptions of the men's time on the boat, (this was necessarily a little repetitive: they were hungry, thirsty, the weather was bad/good, etc.) was Philbrick's description of the Nantucket whaling community and the different aspects of whale hunting. In the 1820's Nantucket was the premiere whale-hunting community. In a time of economic depression, the island was thriving. The men of the island were often out hunting sperm whales for as much as two to three years at a time, coming home for only a few months before heading out to sea again. The women were left to run the island, often becoming widows at an early age.

The specifics of whale hunting were also fascinating. An incredibly dangerous, violent, bloody fight out on the open sea with a generally peaceful, but giant mammal in its element, made all the more interesting by many of the men's pacifistic Quakerism. And even when the whale was dead, the hard work had just begun. The men had to tow the whale back to the ship, cut away all of its blubber, and boil and barrel it on the ship. This job was incredibly backbreaking, dirty, bloody, disgusting, smelly work that went on for days. It was hard to even read about.

Philbrick didn't glorify any of the aspects of the hunt or the people who lived and worked on the Essex. You can tell that he feels some sympathy for the powerful and majestic sperm whale, as he does for the people whose livelihood depended on the sperm whales' death. He also doesn't shy away from some disturbing facts regarding the differing treatments between Nantucketers, "off-islanders," and the blacks on board. Philbrick calls this story a tragedy because even though it is rather miraculous that there were even eight survivors, there were a number of times when, if a different action had been taken, things might have turned out better. This book was surprisingly captivating and powerful, with an insightful and personal look into this tragic adventure, and I would recommend it to anyone.

#44 - "Assassination Vacation" by Sarah Vowell

Assassination Vacation (2005) is another one of those books that I first heard of through the many other Cannonball Readers who have reviewed it. I like history and Sarah Vowell sounded like a unique writer, so I was happy to throw it in my queue.

Vowell is a liberal, young, history buff and in Assassination Vacation she discusses the assassinations of Presidents Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley as she travels around the country visiting all of the historical memorials and museums that hold any evidence of the killings. Her books are chock full of interesting anecdotes and stories and was an entertaining read. Vowell's obvious love of history is evident and she quickly and thoroughly convinced me of how little I know about our past American presidents.

I don't want the rest of this review to sound too negative because I really did like this book, but something kept me from really connecting with it. The main problem I had with this book is that it seemed, on the whole, superficial. Historically speaking, there were a lot of interesting stories, such as how Robert Todd Lincoln was at or near the assassinations of Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley, but there wasn't much depth to them. And especially in the Lincoln section, I felt like she was jumping around a lot. When I read history, I like to imagine things in my head. I am most interested in people, their personalities, the differences in the society of the past, and how people lived back then. I like to delve into these past worlds in great detail and get a really good idea of what things were like. I think that's why I enjoy reading biographies so much. I like getting the entire, personal story. But in reading Assassination Vacation, I was constantly frustrated because I felt like I was missing something and I was always looking for more information. Granted, the fact that Robert Todd Lincoln was nearby for all three assassinations is an interesting little factoid, but by itself it tells me almost nothing about the people or the history of the time.

This same problem also bothered me throughout other aspects of Vowell's book. Assassination Vacation is not a dry and objective rendering of what occurred in the past, but a personal trip that Vowell takes as she travels around the country, but I never felt like I got enough information to be able to truly relate to her. She spouts out partisan Democrat soundbites (which didn't particularly bother me since I generally agree with her), but she doesn't give herself enough time to explain or defend her positions. And if she is going to make a connection between the Imperialism of the early 1900's to our "War on Terror" today, I wish she'd really dig in and make a comparison instead of just mentioning it in a paragraph. But I guess if you look at it another way, this book was utterly successful in piquing my interest in history. I now have a new fascination with the history of the secret service (Vowell never discusses presidential protection or the lack thereof) and all those American presidents I can barely remember or never learned about in school.

#43 - "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides

“I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960, and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974.” And with that, Middlesex, the story of Calliope, or Cal, Stephanides and her family begins. I first became interested in Middlesex (2002) by Jeffrey Eugenides after reading a fellow Cannonball Reader Review. I love the different books I’ve been exposed to through these reviews. Sure, Middlesex is a book I might have eventually found on my own, and I do seem to be reading a lot more vampire and fantasy novels than usual, but I still appreciate that my literary interests are expanding.

Cal Stephanides is now an adult, living in Germany, and looking back on the history of his family and his adolescence to help him figure out what made him what he is and to see where he came from. He starts the history of his family with the story of his grandparents who lived in a tiny village in Asia Minor and ran away to America in order to seek refuge from the Turks in 1922. He follows his grandparents as they travel to Detroit, set up their lives in the Greek-American community, and have children. And then Cal follows the story of his parents, then subsequently the story of the third generation—himself and his brother.

But this is a lot more than just a story of a family. Each and every character becomes a real person, fascinatingly filled out and believable. And this story is told by Cal, who highlights some of the small details of the lives of his parents and grandparents that irrevocably made him what he was. The story is beautifully and sensitively told with detail that fills out the locations and communities. The first part of the book consists of an escape during war, a love story between Cal’s grandparents, and the travel and life of immigrants making a life in the United States. The second part of the book is the story of the second generation in America—how Cal’s parents relate to their own parents and their Greek heritage—as well as how they fall in love and build a life together. The third section of the book is the story of Cal, or Calliope as she is born. This is mainly a coming-of-age story that is utterly relatable, but made even more dramatic by what the reader knows about Calliope.

There is a lot of built-in suspense throughout the book as Cal lets some details slip—such as the fact that he was born a girl; but then you still want to find out what exactly he is, how he found out, and how he felt about it, that keeps you turning the pages. Some of these longer, epic novels tend to lose steam as they near their ending, but this book was the opposite. I thought I knew what was coming but was continuously surprised. The night before I finished this book, I couldn’t get it out of my head and started dreaming about what was coming up next. And even after I finished, Eugenides left enough suggestion of the rest of the story of Cal’s life that I wanted more. There is definitely a sense of whole lives lived out in this book, and I thought it was amazing. One of the best that I’ve read in this contest.

Tangent (spoiler?): I was so curious about Cal’s brother’s name (Chapter Eleven) when he was first introduced, and I was sure it was going to eventually be explained, but then it never was. It’s funny, though, that by the end of the book, I’d gotten so used to it and was so distracted by the other goings-on, that I’d almost forgotten about Chapter Eleven’s name. But now I’m thinking that the grown-up Cal must have started calling his brother by this nickname sometime in the period after the novel, when Chapter Eleven brought down the family business.

#42 - "What I Did for Love" by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

I'm not sure why I have such an affinity for the romance genre. I generally don't even like romantic comedies unless they're really well done...or I have a crush on one of the actors. Yet I can enjoyably suck up a romance novel in a couple of readings without any problem. Of course, there are only a couple of romance authors that I'll actually read, but I'm still surprised by how addicting I find them. I guess they're kind of like candy: not much more than sugar; pretty unhealthy; they make you feel nauseous if you get too much; but every once in awhile, a delicious and distracting guilty pleasure. And What I Did for Love (2009) by Susan Elizabeth Phillips was a pretty satisfying little bit of escapism.

I may as well go ahead and admit I've read most of Susan Elizabeth Phillips' books and enjoyed them. And I looked up to see when her next book was coming out and put it an early hold on it at the library so I could get a copy quickly and early. (I feel like I'm making some deep, dark confession here.) And I'll admit that the characters and plot are just one big cliché, and I knew exactly how everything would turn out before I even started reading, and the characters are incredibly unrealistic, fantastical caricatures. But sometimes it's nice to sink into a world where a woman just happens to run into the best-looking, sensitive, perfect man who is her "one true love," which becomes apparent after they have hot sex, he gives up his playboy ways, and figures out that he is in love with her. This is one story where everything will turn out all right. I often find the endings a little tedious and repetitive, but there's really no other way to end these kinds of books, so I forgive those parts.

What I Did for Love takes place in Hollywood. In a plot eerily resembling real life, the main character, Georgie York, a famous actress from a much beloved television sitcom is left alone when her husband, a famous action star named Lance, leaves her for Jade, a co-star in his latest film. And just to make the connection a little more clear, Lance and Jade altruistically travel the world, doing good deeds for the world's needy. Georgie is left fending off the paparazzi and trying not to look pathetic. But then she goes to Vegas, runs into the old co-star from her show, Bram (and with a name like that, you know he's got to be "the one"--oops, spoiler!), and they end up getting drunk and married. They decide to pretend the marriage is real for awhile in order for both of them to salvage what they can of their respective reputations.

There is no question that Susan Elizabeth Phillips is a romance writer. She follows the formula without exception, but there are a couple aspects of her books that make hers better than most others. Her characters are likable and feel real emotion. Everyone's felt the sting of rejection or loneliness and Phillips' characters do as well, and in relatable ways. Phillips also often has interesting secondary characters (that inevitably meet a happy ending as well) that create a little community for her story. But probably most important, she doesn't take herself or her story too seriously. The badinage between the characters is always entertaining and funny, and I rarely get bored or want to skip ahead. Phillips builds her own little world in her books and then takes you into her enjoyable and happy fantasy land.

#41 - "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers

I must have been at least somewhat conscious of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers when it first came out in 2000. I was reminded of it recently and it sounded so familiar, and then when I picked it up in the library I knew I had at least flipped through it at a bookstore or seen it somewhere. Yes, maybe I should have read this book eight or nine years ago when it was the #1 National Bestseller, almost winning a Pulitzer, and when I was the same age as Dave Eggers at the beginning of his memoir. But I can be kind of clueless, sometimes completely oblivious to what is popular or well-known until it's already blown over. Most of the time I feel I just accidentally stumble on books, music and movies that I like, and then I worry about all the others I haven't found yet.

I searched this book out on a whim at the library, and it looked so interesting that after a moment of perusal, I was sucked in and had to check it out. The author, Dave Eggers, tells the story of the time he spent in Berkeley and San Francisco in his twenties after his parents' death. Dave Eggers is only twenty-one and finishing up college when his mother and father die of cancer less than five weeks apart. His mother had been sick for quite awhile but his father's cancer and death is more sudden and unexpected. Dave's family now consists of his older brother Bill, his older sister, Beth, and his much younger brother Chris (who goes by Toph and is only seven-years-old). Beth, Dave, and Toph move to Berkeley where Beth goes to law school and Dave and Toph live together. Dave struggles with his own past and upbringing, dealing with the death of his parents, raising Toph, and figuring out what he's going to do with his life--and all straight out of college.

Just the story of the two brothers' lives after the death of their parents is tragic and fascinating. When I think of my maturity level when I graduated from college and the amount of pressure Dave Eggers must have been under, I do not understand how he managed to cope. But Eggers brings much more than just a straight re-telling of his personal tragedy: he is funny. The mundane but often hilarious details of his life and conversations as well as his random daydreams, and self-deprecating and often self-conscious statements that break into the middle of scenes add an entirely new dimension to the narrative. I was amused to find Egger's rating on the sexual orientation scale graphically depicted on the copyright page along with his height, weight, and haircolor.

But there's also more to the story than a simple recounting of the years with some tongue-in-cheek. Eggers sensitively explores why he's even writing a story about his parents, his life, his friends. He wants to be powerful and important, to be well-known, and he often imagines himself as such. Is he just using his parents and some of his friends' stories to gain fame or is there a greater good coming from this? Is the story helping him deal with his parents' death? Most of the time when Eggers is challenging himself he does it through the dialogue between himself and another person: his brother or a friend. I could see myself easily being annoyed by this technique, but Eggers manages it so well that I found it a creative and interesting way to enlighten the reader about his inner thoughts.

One thing bothered me a little while I read the book, and even though I feel a bit like the politically-correct police here, I didn't want to ignore it. Eggers was constantly pointing out the black man, black woman, or interracial couple in his life. Sometimes I was a little surprised and I wondered why he felt the need to mention that some neighbors of his, that were in no way a part of the story, were an interracial couple. Maybe he was just trying to show the difference between Berkeley and the very affluent, very white town where he grew up? Eggers also uses the phrase "run like an Indian" in places throughout the book, and it grated.