Trust Dave's taste? Here's what he's picked in the past!
The Alcoholic by Jonathan Ames and Dean Haspiel
Just like a Long Island Iced Tea, this book is not for beginners and not for kids. But it is also, like the aforementioned, unbeatable. The Alcoholic is Jonathan Ames’ first—hopefully not his last—foray into the graphic novel world. Teamed with award-winning artist Dean Haspiel, Ames tells the life story of “Jonathan A.,” who, we might assume, is a fictionalized version of himself. (Perhaps thinly fictionalized? Just a guess.) The book covers Jonathan’s rocky adolescence, his sexual misadventures, his romance with alcohol, his numerous heartbreaks, his Kerouacian ambitions, his shattered love, his close relationship with his aunt, and the horror being orphaned just out of college. How this all fit in under 200 pages is still not something I can wrap my head around. Half of it is profoundly amusing, the other half is frighteningly real. There are some things, as humans, we don’t like to talk about, for fear of coming off as pathetic or freakish, but Ames spills it all out without hesitation, and Haspiel captures it all impeccably with his poignant illustrations. This probably isn’t the best graphic novel to start off with if you’re inexperienced with the medium, but it is one of the best you’ll find on the market. Drink it up.
978-1-4012-1056-4 | $19.99/$22.99C | HC | Vertigo | September 2008
The Downhill Lie by Carl Hiaasen
Upon hearing what this book is about, there is no way I could’ve not picked it up. Am I a golfer? No. But I used to try. For me, this slim green volume is a cautionary tale—a lesson I must remember for when I’m bored and fifty. Like me, Carl Hiaasen gave up the game of golf early in life. He was done at age 20. I was done at around age 15, after overshooting the 17th green four consecutive times one sunshiny day in Northern Michigan and nearly destroying a sand rake. I must say, I haven’t looked back. Hiaasen, however stupidly, did. This book is the chronicle of his experiences returning to a “ruinous sport” after more than 30 years. This is the funniest book I’ve read in a long time, its one-liners, truisms, ruthless self-deprecations, and its 496 synonyms for “struck the ball badly” causing me some embarrassing snorting moments on the subway. This tremendously well-written book is a must-read for any golfer, former golfer, or any star-crossed soul considering becoming one. Not that I’m bitter.
978-0-307-26653-8 | $22.00 | Knopf | HC | May 2008
Samedi the Deafness by Jesse Ball
I’m
at a bit of a loss as to what to say about Samedi
the Deafness. I can say that Jesse Ball wrote it. I can say
that it’s a book. But I feel that if I attempted to plot-summarize,
my blurb would end up running down and covering up someone else’s
cartoon, and no one likes it when that happens. I also can’t very
well compare it to another book, or even two or three other books. All
this Kafka-meets-Cussler-meets-Danielewski business tends to not make
any sense. I found it in the Original Voices section when I visited
Borders. They certainly got that right.
Not only did this book make me think, but also kept me so engaged that
I read it faster than any novel since Angels
& Demons four years ago. One can tell that Ball began writing
as a poet. His words have a rarely achieved economy to them, and he’s
managed to write the most beautiful love-scene I’ve ever come
across. (And I’ve “come across” Toni Morrison.) This
is a must for anyone looking for an original.
978-0-307-27885-2 (0-307-27885-9) | $12.95 | Vintage | TR (Available Now)
Postcards: True Stories That Never Happened edited by Jason Rodriguez
Ever found
a folded-up, trampled-on, mud-soaked note in the middle of the Target
parking lot? Did it say something like “See u at 5:00. Bring your
sponge!”? And did you find yourself really wanting to know who
the intended recipient was, the purpose of this recipient’s early-evening
rendezvous, why in God’s name he or she needed a sponge, and if
they’d actually remembered to bring one? If so, or if something
close to that has happened to you, I may have a book for you. Postcards
is a collection of graphically told stories inspired by real found postcards.
Editor Jason Rodriguez has unearthed them from who-knows-where and passed
them off to different artists, who, using their individual styles, have
postulated on the stories behind them. Conceptually brilliant and perfectly
executed, this book brings the reader into the midst of the creative
process, allowing him or her to see how the artists draw on misspellings,
handwriting, initials, or idiosyncratic phrasings in order to generate
a heart-breaking, shocking, or triumphant graphic tale for our enjoyment.
This is a must for anyone interested in graphic storytelling…or
in nosey speculation.
978-0-345-49850-2 (0-345-49850-X) | $21.95/$27.95C | Villard | HC (Available Now)
How to Become a Famous Writer Before You're Dead: Your Words in Print and Your Name In Lights by Ariel Gore
I’ve read my share of writing advice. I’ve subscribed to Writer’s Digest and Poets & Writers, read writing guides, checked out books from the library on how to get published, perused condescending writerly-ambition websites, and never before have I encountered anything like Gore’s personal, unpretentious, and at times even self-deprecating voice. Instead of removing herself and writing yet another cold-glass how-to book, she takes a refreshing humorous-narrative approach. Simply put, she’s just really good at giving advice. By merely sharing anecdotes and allowing us to draw from them what we like, she builds a rapport with her audience and manages to avoid coming across as authoritative or patronizing. And she swears a lot. And she’s silly. And she’s real. However, the book also gives us the firm talking-to we need, setting up common excuses (I’m too old; I’m too young, I don’t have a degree; I’ve lived kind of a bland life, etc.) and shooting them off the fence one-by-one. “See?” she says, “You can. Now get going.” An analogy: If the writing world were a farm (yes I know it should be “be,” the present-tense subjunctive, but see Chapter 34 “Relax the Rules”), she’s not the ol’ farmer. She’s the rooster. Her book does the all-important job of waking up the life that’s already “in the yard.”
978-0-307-34648-3 (0-307-34648-X) | $13.95/$17.95C | Three Rivers Press | TR | March
The Sunset Limited by Cormac McCarthy
Okay, so it's dark. But that's what you get when you dig. Prolific and widely heralded novelist Cormac McCarthy has been digging for decades now, and, following in the moist, shadowy ruts of his recent novel The Road, his new book, The Sunset Limited, also refuses to merely skim the topsoil. Without a moment’s hesitation, McCarthy delves into his weird plain-language profundity, grinding steadily at the resin surface of the world's oldest and toughest question of “why exactly are we here?” He does so in a spare and poignant way, using only a dialogue between two nameless foil characters: an exhausted, depressive professor and a humble, slow-talking ex-con, who, in their quests for a middle ground may just inadvertantly carve out a canyon too wide to shout across. I like a book like this because it makes me think.
They say an unexamined life is not worth living, and McCarthy's words—bearing the weight of Shakespeare and the immediacy of Updike—always compel examination. While I do recommend sequentially sandwiching this book with a couple of toes-in-the-sand, pastel-colored novels, I still consider it essential reading and required contemplation. Just embrace it. Read it sitting on a damp tile floor in low light with a storm outside. Read it in a house of mirrors. Read it on an empty screeching subway car in the middle of the night as the train jerks and the lights flicker. Alone and silently, begin. It's a very short book, but its effect as a catalyst to commonly ducked-under introspection can last as long as you'd want, or as long as you'd let it. McCarthy, you'll find, has somehow fitted this, the slimmest book on the shelf, with a caliber wide enough for a life.
978-0-307-27836-4 (0-307-27836-0) | $13.95 | Vintage |TR | October 2006
