Wide Eyed by Trinie Dalton

I got this book when I worked for Utne magazine and only read the first story before I determined that it was necessary to send to my best friend. I knew she would love it, and was not as compelled to read the book as I was last week when I visited her and noticed the book on her shelf. I read it on the airplane home and was completely smitten. It was simple and weird and magical and I wished I could write a book just like it. When I finished it a few hours after I began, I didn't want it to be over. I was not through with her magic.

Male of the Species by Alex Mindt

If I was going to judge this book, not only for its cover (a bad photo of a tree with the sunlight filtering through its branches) but for its title, Male of the Species, I imagine that I usually wouldn't even consider picking it up. For the most part, I read books by women. I don't think I need an explanation for reading what I am drawn to. This book is written by a man, and as far as I can tell, it is about men, almost solely. Really, it appears to be centered around the theme, not necessarily of father hood, but fathers themselves (though after reading a bit of it, this theme does not stand for the whole book, but at least a portion of it). The one story in the collection that I have almost finished is about one son's quest to set his father up with the recently divorced neighbor. An uncle also features prominently in the story. Some of the dialogue is humorous, even witty. And it isn't a book to make you think, which is exactly what I was searching for the moment I picked it up. A few stories into the book, I'll probably get bored and stop reading. But my mood will most likely change and I might find myself on my couch this evening finishing the rest of the book.

After going home to read more of this book last night, I determined that it wasn't a pleasant read at all. The pervasive attitude of the stories disagrees with me. As expected, the book is very masculine. This is not always a negative thing. But in this case, I want to say that it is. The book is masculine in a broad-disrespect-for-life sort of way, an I see the world my way and my way is correct sort of way. This is the dark side of masculine--basically a fuck-you attitude to the world riddled with pervasive selfishness. A few stories into the book, I stopped, finding myself growing more and more disgusted with the characters. The one story I did appreciate, was titled The Artist At Work.

O.(h) Henry

Last week, my prize book find was an advance reader's edition of the O. Henry Prize Stories 2007. Thus far, it has certainly lived up to its promise. Though a few of the stories don't appeal to me, each one is particularly well crafted. The language is inventive. The plots are riveting. The stories are diverse and capture something about humanity and the essence of narrative. Among the stories featured in the collection is one by one of my favorite authors, Christine Schutt. I do have to say, though, that her style no longer seems as riveting as it did upon first discovering her work. Because her writing is driven by language over plot, it is easy to weary of. Alice Munro's story in this collection, as always, has a keen sense of place and of history. It is interesting, and pleasant to read. There are plenty of other stories that caught my attention as well.

Varieties of Disturbance by Lydia Davis

It would probably be more educational to read a sociological study, but reading this book is the next best thing as it is crafted with sociology and "scientific method" in mind. I never considered certain academic styles to be literary devices before, but Lydia Davis reveals that they can work as such (while providing a nice framework for an alternative plot-line). Breaking free of standard plot is the thing Davis does the best. The stories in this book of very short fiction range from a few sentences to several pages long. Style is elevated above character development. The stories often read like sociological or psychological studies. Some are like snipets of a conversation you might overhear on the bus. This is a highly unusual book.

I Think of You by Ahdaf Souief

These stories are about family, belonging, estrangement, and loneliness, and ultimately about being a woman and an expatriate. Souief conveys a sense of aloneness that can only come from someone who understand what it feels like to be a foreigner, not only in one's chosen country, but also in one's own family. The stories in this book are all about women, mostly mothers, living abroad. Some are Egyptian women living in England and others are English women living in Egypt. The words convey color, and sadness while remaining overtly simple.

Literary Old Ladies--Alice Munro

I received a few book recommendations yesterday from a connoisseur of literature penned by old ladies of a particular generation. She expressed the fact that these authors all write in a style indicative of their age, and gender. There is something quaint, subtle, and richly complex about stories written, in this case, by Alice Munro, which I discovered upon checking her book Open Secrets out of the local library.

At first, I was unaccustomed to the style that reminded me of some of the short stories I read in a college English class dedicated to the literary form. These days, I usually read fiction that is more contemporary or more experimental or avant-garde. But oftentimes, these stories, if they are not focused on language in a way that transcends plot, fall short of my expectations. The characterizations are often shallow and lacking in complexity. But Alice Munro stories come from a hand versed in the literature of a different time, when plot mattered and simple realism was placed on a pedestal.

My friend was right. Alice Munro writes beautifully about normal country folk with complex personalities.

Ben Greenman Picks Up Literate Boys

I am almost certain that Ben Greenman is straight, so he isn't the one who actually picks up literate boys. It is the act of reading his stories that enables a certain degree more flirtation with boys with literary proclivities than might otherwise take place. Yesterday, I took his forthcoming book of short stories, A Circle is A Compass and a Balloon Both down to the local hipster coffee haunt for the afternoon. The man sitting across from me on the coffee shop's couch reading On The Road was intrigued by the plain, flourescent green cover on my galley copy of the book. He didn't seem to take much interest in the adorable girl sewing stuffed, felt creatures who was sitting in the chair next to mine. He wanted to know about the title of my book. "I was curious," he let on, "about your book." I humored him. I humored him for much longer than I am used to doing when a stranger approaches me. "Is it good?" he asked. "It's weird," I responded. I told him a little bit about the stories. "One story is about a time when everyone is a pop singer. But everyone is only allowed to record one song." He thought that would be a good thing, not being much of a pop-music man himself. Then he told me about his job. Since I had interviewed for a job at his company, we talked about that for a little while. After some time, he asked for the inevitable: my phone number. I am not accustomed to giving my number to boys. So when I receive a request like this, I freeze enough to provide the digits to my pursuer. But this is a passive agressive way to go about the whole situation which can be thought of as follows: boy meets girl in coffee shop. She is pretty; therefore, she must like boys. Boy talks to girl and asks her many questions, beginning with one regarding the title of the book she is holding firmly in front of her face. Girl talks to boy; therefore, she must be interested in him. Boy asks girl for her number. Girl gives number to boy. Boy leaves. Girl knows she won't return boy's call. What I have determined is that to be open to other people's conversation, and to broadcast a certain level of social or romantic availability is to broadcast it to everyone. Unfortunately, one cannot be particularly discriminating. Attention is attention. And sometimes all it takes is an obscure book to get some.

A Circle is a Balloon and Compass Both by Ben Greenman

I anticipate that this book is going to contain a plethora of very odd stories. The flourescent green galley is sitting on my desk. I read one of the stories. It was about a spy/assassin doing a job in an airport. I thought the stories were supposed to be about "human love" so I was quite perplexed when I happened upon this particular story. But drawing upon the fact that the introduction is written somewhat sarcastically by the author's second grade art teacher, I wasn't about to take my first reading of the book particularly seriously.

Twin Study by Stacey Richter

I never thought I would be sitting at my kitchen table on New Year's day reading story after weird story just to pass the time. It was a beautiful day, but crankiness had descended over me like a cliche cloud, so I picked up the book on top of the pile in my living room and began to read over a cup of coffee. The book was called Twin Study (Perseus, 2007), the title story of which detailed a weekend in the life of two adult indentical twins who were participating in scientific research about twins. The twins hated the fact that they were so alike yet so different, and this became clear over the course of the story. One of the highlights is when the "bad twin" claims a "found pug" dog that doesn't belong to her. The most amusing story had to be "The Cavemen in the Hedges," a story about a couple who are faced with an invasion of proto-humans in their suburb. The cavemen in the story are fond of shiny objects and anything pink or girly. For some reason, the woman in the story needs a caveman in her life in order to loosen up a bit. The story about the rock-star teenage girl named Shane was also great. There were a few stories that I chose to skip owing to the fact that the seemed slightly disturbing. The book, that officially comes out sometime this spring (April, I believe) made for an amusing day of reading, after all.

-->More information at Library Thing.

Florida and Other Wonderous Words by Christine Schutt

I was supposed to be Christmas shopping yesterday evening when I strolled into my local bookstore. I thought I might check out Amy Sedaris' new book on entertaining guests. But it was apparently nowhere to be found. Instead of pursuing the book into the hidden areas of the bookstore, I perused the new hardbound fiction. Then I moved on to the general fiction shelf where I was promptly drawn to look for one of the elusive books by Christine Schutt, my current author-obsession. Since discovering her book A Day, A Night, Another Day, Summer last Summer, I have asked every literary-minded friend and acquaintance if they have heard of her work, and as of yet, no one has. I like that she remains my literary secret, though a secret she is not considering that her book Florida was nominated for a National Book Award. It was this book that I came across yesterday. And I couldn't resist the temptation to buy it for myself, though I really did have intentions of buying things for others. But really, I want to share Schutt's work with everyone and no one. I want to share it with everyone because I want them all to experience her work like I have. But I am hesitant to share my knowledge of this author's magnificent prose because I know that most people will not have the same riveting experience that I did upon first discovering her work.