ljbwell's 2011 challenge

New year, new challenge. Just squeaked through with 50 in 2010, so hoping for a repeat in 2011. We'll see...

1. I Kill Giants by Joe Kelly, Art & Design by JM Ken Niimura (300 p., graphic novel, Titan Edition)

First, a quick note on the Titan Edition. It includes behind the scenes info & interviews with Kelly & Niimura, various preliminary sketches of the characters and key items - like Coveleski - from the book, and more.

I had yearned for this one for awhile, after seeing it in a bookstore and then trying to avoid reading too much about it. Graphic novels are a recent thing for me, starting with Maus about 5 years ago. I've picked up several more along the way where the story felt like it took a back seat to gorgeous artwork.

Not so with I Kill Giants. Yes, the artwork is very good, but the story is what drives this graphic novel.

I Kill Giants is about a 5th grader, Barbara Thorson, on the outside and more or less proud of it. She's got spunk - she stands up to a motivational speaker/dad at her class's career day; she holds her own with the principal; she's a decently-respected D&D dungeon master. Barbara also declares proudly that she finds, fights and kills giants. She carries Coveleski, her powerful Norse giant-slaying hammer, everywhere. But being different also makes her the target of bullying. No one believes she is a giant killer, and she is brought in to meet with the sympathetic school psychologist. We begin to wonder, what are the giants she is so determined to slay...

This is a wonderful story without being saccharine. Barbara has depth - she's bold, she's independent, she's lonely, she's afraid, she's angry. She lashes out when pushed, and is alienated from the one friend she makes. The artwork highlights right away Barbara's outlier status - poking out from above a book in the back of the classroom are a pair of rabbit ears.

I don't want to give too much away, and would caution against reading too much about it - let the story and the hints of what is going on unfold and be reminded of everything a graphic novel can be.

2. John Henry Days by Colson Whitehead (389 p.)

My penultimate book of 2010 was by Whitehead, and now my 2nd of 2011 is also by him. I'll try and hold off on my 3rd one for a little longer, but that could prove difficult.

John Henry Days weaves together several threads through several different periods in American history. The central, present-day story revolves around J., an African American journalist junketeer - i.e., he covers pretty much any PR junket if there's free food, drink, travel, and receipted expenditures (legitimate or otherwise) to be had. In fact, J. is chasing a junketeer record for most consecutive days of these press events. He has agreed to cover the release of a stamp commemorating John Henry in a new folkheroes collection. The unveiling will take place in Talcott, West Virginia, where the legend of John Henry - a railroad worker, he challenged and beat a steam drill, then promptly collapsed and died - supposedly happened.

But the book flows from J.'s story, to that of Pamela, the daughter of a John Henry memorabilia collector in West Virginia to negotiate the sale of his collection; Alphonse Miggs, the stamp collector specializing in train stamps; John Henry himself; and others from c. 1870 - present. The others all have ties to the legend that has built around John Henry, such as the African American academic researching the ballad of John Henry in the 1920s, different musicians and their relationship to the ballad, & the young middle-class African American girl who buys John Henry ballad sheet music.

In short, this is a story of struggle and fate. Of striving for more and being broken by it. Of always having to prove yourself. Of trying to make a name for yourself, to stand out in the crowd. The two main events (John Henry's challenge in 1871-ish and the more present day celebration of John Henry Days in West Virginia) serve as brackets to the other stories and together build a lyrical, compelling journey through various eras in American history.

3. World War Z by Max Brooks (342 p.)

My 3rd from my SantaThing secret santa. I'd only started hearing about it lately and was really happy to get it.

WWZ delivers what it says on the cover: an oral history of the zombie war. The narrator travels the globe interviewing people about their experiences in the pre-, during, and post-zombie apocalypse. Initially meant to produce a dispassionate UN government report, this book then recounts the personal narratives eliminated from the report.

WWZ is at its best when it feels like it could be used in an IR lesson or to teach wargames & battle strategies (successful and not). It is weakest when it feels like reading a video game. While heavily bent towards an American perspective, there are several non-US interviews, which lend more depth and breadth to the book. There are fun & interesting details throughout - like who has come out strongest in the aftermath, and how different countries respond to the crisis.

All that aside, I really enjoyed WWZ. It is a *very* different take on the zombie craze from Hanteringen av odöda (Handling the undead), which explores the psychological effects of reanimation on the living.

If you have the stomach for zombies (and there are some detailed descriptions), this is a very entertaining read.

4. Shadow Pass aka The Red Coffin by Sam Eastland (357 p.)

This was my first Early Reviewers read, and I was thrilled to get it. Now that I've done it one, I'm definitely hoping for more in the future.

The Red Coffin is set in 1939 in the Soviet Union. Stalin is in power and the threat of war with Germany looms large. Inspector Pekkala, a Finnish-born officer previously loyal to the Tsar, has managed to survive the government change and is now a trusted inspector for Stalin. Stalin brings Pekkala in to investigate the death of the designer of the USSR’s new secret weapon, the T-34 tank (or Red Coffin), a supertank meant to crush the Germans in the increasingly inevitable conflict.

This review is based on an uncorrected proof, and so I will forgive the spelling & consistency errors that I expect will be edited in the published version. I was drawn in from the start, enjoyed the characters, and was interested in the setting. The use of historical characters, such as the Tsar and Tsarina, Rasputin, and Stalin, is fun. There are flashbacks to Pekkala’s past which overall help explain who he is and how he ended up where he is now. That said, the flashbacks sometimes come so frequently that they interrupt the flow of the story, and doing them in italics seemed like overkill. In addition, similes are overwrought and overused. Some of the characters also do very sudden 180s, and even 360s. Pekkala also seems to be able to stand up to Stalin (and previously to the Tsar & Tsarina) in unlikely ways, though he does recognize that this could change at any minute at Stalin’s whim. I was really enjoying reading The Red Coffin up until about the final 80 pages, where the events & implausibility just got silly, even annoying. However, if you don’t expect too much from it, The Red Coffin is an entertaining page-turner of a summer read.

5. The Gargoyle (499 p.)

I read this for my book club. I wouldn't have read it otherwise. I don't feel any better for having read it, nor that my earlier back-jacket assessment was all that off. I seem to be in a minority.

The narrator gets into a fiery car crash which leaves him on the brink of death from the resulting burns. He was an incredibly beautiful man physically, but has had a difficult past which has led him from one addiction to another. While recovering in the hospital, he starts getting visits from the mysterious Marianne Engel. She takes care of him and recounts stories of romance through the ages - including their own. Gasp.

It just didn't work for me. I never felt the bond between these two characters; if anything, found myself more interested in the sub-characters around them; and never felt like the narrator learned much. The historical stories seemed obvious, and again, didn't have any emotional effect. I also dislike what feels like a cop out literary device to have the narrator say from the start, 'Gee, whiz, I'm not really a writer and don't really know what - or why - I'm doing this, so if this comes out wrong, it's not my fault. I just felt the need to write it all down'. I wish he'd saved me the trouble, then, of having to read it.

6. Confessions of a Justified Sinner by James Hogg (244 p.)

I had never heard of this book until I saw it mentioned here on LT on a list of the best Scottish writing. I was immediately drawn to the gothic story and exploration of evil.

Confessions is written in 3 parts. The first two parts recount more or less the same story from different perspectives. Part 1 is told by a narrator, and then part 2 by the titular justified sinner. The 3rd section then comes back again to the narrator.

The story opens with an older laird's marriage to a young, strictly Calvinist bride who abhors her new husband. They soon live apart - he living primarily with a friend/housekeeper and she with the Reverend Wringhim, also a devout Calvinist. The exact nature of both these relationships is questioned (both by the reader as well as the characters themselves). The wife has 2 sons, George & Robert, the 1st of which the laird acknowledges as his own, the 2nd of which he completely denies and leaves to be raised by the mother. The brothers do not know each other, until Robert shows up at a sporting match and begins to heckle and haunt his 'sinful' brother George. The narrator's tale then follows the subsequent events leading from this meeting.

The 2nd part, the confessions, is written by Robert. We see his perspective on events, including his upbringing. We also meet his mysterious friend, who will only give the name Gil-Martin, whose unnerving ubiquity and ability to change appearance rattle Robert. Is Robert mad? Is Gil-Martin the devil? What does Robert's descent say about Calvinist faith?

This book was a welcome treat. I've been in a reading slump lately, and feeling very negative about reading. I got out of this what I'd hoped to get from Turn of the Screw and didn't, plus some: good gothic horror, a devilish Satan, a descent into madness, occasional dabs of Scots language, and also a fair amount of humor (the wedding & days after, plus Robert's initial belief that Gil-Martin is the Czar of Russia come to mind). Fantastic.

Apparently the turtle was an apt choice for this year...

7. St Kilda Island on the Edge of the World (non-fiction, 196 p.)

My reading group decided we wanted to do some non-fiction and someone suggested this one. It was a good choice. Since moving to Scotland, it's been fun to introduce more Scottish literature into the mix. This time, I got to include Scottish non-fiction.

St Kilda is a remote island even beyond the Outer Hebrides. Until its evacuation in August 1930, it was inhabited by a small population. In fact, after 1697 when its population was about 180, its numbers never really grew beyond about 110. Two key events destroyed the population in ways it found difficult to recover from - one was a massacre at the hands of thieves, the other a decimation from smallpox. Together with a generally difficult and isolated way of life, the population struggled, especially in later years. It was challenging to sustain itself, much less have any form of export economy - especially when the products from local birds (feathers, oil, salted meat) were no longer desirable on the mainland.

This book includes geography, geology, history, photographs, primary sources, and more, all woven together into a fascinating story about the island and its people, flora (such as it was) and fauna. Accounts of outsiders coming to St Kilda and their effects and influence on the island are as interesting as those of islanders' experiences off the island.

My main criticism is that the final chapter gets a bit wanderingly philosophical. Also, while Maclean describes both the hardships of living on the island, as well as the aforementioned hits to its population, just how many men died in day to day work on the stacs feels glossed over.

This is a fascinating work for anyone interested in remote populations and the effects of the outside world on their way of life.

8. The Evil Garden by Edward Gorey

(aka Eduard Blutig's 'Der Böse Garten' as translated by Mrs Regera Dowdy with the original pictures of O Müde)

This is my 2nd Early Reviewer book. In looking through my LT library, as well as through these threads from years past, it is no secret how much I love Gorey's works. Kid you not, I did a dance when I found out I'd be getting to review The Evil Garden.

For as big a fan as I thought I was, apparently there are gaps in my knowledge. The Evil Garden appears in the one Amphigorey collection I don't have, and I hadn't come across the story anywhere else over the years. So it was with great anticipation that I sliced open the shrinkwrap to revel in a new (to me) Gorey creation. From the slightly ominous plants against the vignetted green backdrop on the cover, you know you're in Gorey's darkly humorous world. Told in rhyming couplets - a common Gorey style - this is the tale of an outing to the Garden. Entry is free, but odd things inevitably befall the various members of the group - remember, this is Gorey. There are odd creatures, carnivorous plants, mysterious sounds, disappearances, and a bit of screaming & swooning. Each couplet is paired with one of Gorey's trademark crosshatch ink drawings. Without giving too much away, there's the baby being carried off, the daughter watching somewhat impassively at the aforementioned carnivorous plant at work, and a back-of-the-hand-to-the-forehead at various other events.

This is an excellent addition for anyone who collects Gorey's works. And if you know anyone with a vivid imagination, an oddly skewed funnybone, a touch of Victorian drama & Georgian-through-flapper fashion sense, do them a favor and introduce them to the world of Gorey.

9. Huset på Arlozorovgatan (250 p., Swedish)

I'd begun reading this one awhile ago, left it after around 50 pages, and am now going through a finish-what-I-started phase.

Told in shifting perspectives, these are the tales told by the residents of a house, divided into apartments, on Arlozorvgatan in Tel Aviv, Israel. There's Assaf, the well-know poet whose marriage may not be as solid as he thinks; the aspiring poet, Yair; Nathan, sex-starved and willing to do anything - including pretending to be Hasid - to get with a woman; and Yisraela, the Ethiopian widow. They lead very separate lives, but eventually their stories intersect. Oh, and there's also a story woven in about Arlozorov, the real man after whom the real street is named.

Nothing new, and books like Ensemble c'est tout did this meeting and weaving of lives much more effectively. I'm guessing Nathan's desperate attempts to sleep with a woman are meant to be humorous, but some of the things he does are just weak or unpleasant. The stories are so chopped up I never felt like I really got to know or care about any of them. In the end, I was glad I finished the book, but don't feel like it broke any new ground or left a lasting imprint.

10. Deaf Sentence by David Lodge (320 p.)

Finally. A novel that snapped me out of my reading slump. Deaf Sentence centers around Desmond Bates, a retired linguistics professor who is going deaf. His wife runs a successful interior decorations store, his father stubbornly refuses to leave his London home to live up north closer to Desmond, and he is increasingly frustrated with the effects of his hearing loss.

The most pronounced result of his deafness is that, after nodding, smiling and vaguely agreeing to things he can't hear during a conversation at a party, he gets unwittingly roped into informal dissertation advising by a (potentially unhinged) PhD student at his former university.

For the 1st 2/3 or so this is a laugh-out-loud novel. It does become more serious at the end. This is a novel about academia, family, & aging. Lodge captures each of these with wit and wisdom.

With all that is going on in higher education in the UK these days, Lodge hits it spot on. In describing a former colleague Bates says, "He's probably too busy attending meetings, and preparing budgets, and making staff assessments, and doing all the other things that professors have to do nowadays instead of thinking."

As a linguist, Bates analyzes his hearing loss - the difficult words to understand, the sounds that are dropped, the confusions. Deaf/death becomes a common theme throughout, and more pronouncedly so at the end.

I was sympathetic to a lot of aspects of the book. My main criticism is that some of the threads get dropped and then revived again. But overall, sharp, funny, wry observations on family, academia, aging, life and deaf, I mean death.

11. The Discovery of France by Graham Robb (458 p., non-fiction)

Yes, it took me forever to read. My brain just wasn't in non-fiction mode for me to throw myself into it all at once. That said, this is a wonderful book. It is accessible without being dumbed down, filled with interesting tidbits without being chaotic or overwhelming. He meanders through France and brings the reader right along with him. Robb explores the history and geography of France beyond Paris. It focuses primarily on post-Louis XIV through WWI, but also dips into Gaul and the present.

Not only does Robb delve into the lesser-known regions of France, but also focuses on less ordinary topics. There's the Interlude entitled 'The Sixty Million Others' about the domestic and wild animals that were so integral to society and the economy. Maps, languages, touring and exploring France, migrant labor, the tribes of France, and more are all examined. Excerpts from travel guides and diaries are priceless - straight out of 'Room with a view'. From one such post-Revolution, turn of the 18th-19th century guide come phrases such as 'Postilion, a man has just climbed onto the back of the coach. Make him get down' and 'I believe the wheels are on fire. Look and see'. An enjoyable, intelligent, if sometimes dense read.

12. The Artist is a Thief by Stephen Gray (282 p)

I had picked this up at Barter Books in Alnwick (great used bookstore in a converted train station) as my 'I've got no idea if this will be any good, but I'll give it a shot' book.

When Margaret Thatcher Gandarrwuy's, a famous but reclusive Aboriginal artist, latest painting is revealed, it has been slashed and marred by the phrase, 'The artist is a thief'. The art center manager claims this is part of the piece, but there are doubts. Aboriginal art itself is threatened to the core. Jean-Loup Wild is brought in to investigate the finances. On his first night in Mission Hole, there is a murder. Jean-Loup is a newcomer to a community suspicious of outsiders, and he struggles to sort out the situation, the murder, and his own past.

I never felt absorbed by this book. Some of the art world machinations were interesting, but overall it didn't grab me.

13. And the Land Lay Still by James Robertson (674 p.)

A beautifully written novel that is also timely for the upcoming Scottish Parliamentary elections. It ranges from around WWII to present day, with Scotland and Scottish political history as important threads throughout. The Stone of Destiny is a recurring character in the book. It follows different people throughout this timespan, starting separately and slowly weaving their threads together - the photographer living in his father's shadow, the alcoholic former journalist and spy, the Pacific theater war vet and his aloof and elusive friend who simply disappears one day, and more - each with a constellation of other characters around them. Very highly recommended, not just for those interested in Scotland.

And the Land Lay Still sounds like a great book for Scotland in my Book Around the World challenge. Thanks for the review.

Thanks for stopping by! Yes, definitely do give And the Land Lay Still a go. It'll be interesting to see what others think of it.

14. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire (495 p.)

Another book club read. Wicked is the story of Elphaba, aka the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz.

This one just never kicked in for me. Maybe I expected something else - more of an alternate telling of events with some backstory, as opposed to mostly (meandering then leaping) backstory with Dorothy only appearing around p. 400. Maybe I should have reread the Wizard of Oz to appreciate or recall better which characters in Wicked are from the book and which ones are complete inventions. Maguire makes sudden and convenient leaps, not just in timespan, but also in content - including that Elphaba is somehow suddenly the WWotW (or Glenda being the good witch, or the sister being the WWotE, etc.). Uneven, patchy, and just didn't hold my interest.

15. Eye of the Red Tsar by Sam Eastland (453 p.)

OK, I've done this a bit backwards. After reading the 2nd of the Inspector Pekkala crime novels for Early Reviewers, I decided to go back and read the 1st. While the 2nd can definitely be read as a stand-alone, it did help fill in a few details to have read the 1st.

This one sets up Pekkala's being brought in from the Gulag in order to investigate the deaths of the Romanovs and find their lost treasures. Pekkala had been employed as the 'Emerald Eye' for the Tsar; this gave him free rein in investigations. Stalin sends for Pekkala, convinced he knows where the Romanov fortunes are hidden. The flashbacks are useful (though similar to the 2nd book, they can come over-frequently and the italics seem unnecessary).

Yes, much of the premise is unlikely - that someone so tight with the Romanovs would then be given the same level of trust by Stalin & the Soviets. Still, it is a perfect book for summer, or for anytime you are willing to overlook the holes and imperfections in favor of a quick, entertaining read with an interesting setting and historical backdrop.

16. The Idea of Perfection by Kate Grenville (401 p.)

This one is a loaner that's been sitting on the shelf for about a year. I finally decided to give it a go.

The Idea of Perfection takes place in Karakarook, Australia. An old bridge is due to be torn down and rebuilt, which has divided the town into opposing factions - those in favor of the new plans and those opposed to getting rid of the traditional old wood bridge. Douglas Cheeseman is the divorced engineer sent to report on the bridge. Meanwhile, Harley Savage is in town to collect traditional items to set up a new museum. After 3 marriages, she prefers to remain aloof. There's also a somewhat random thread involving the bank manager's wife and the local butcher.

This novel was fine, if fairly obvious. Old vs. new, traditional vs. modern, building bridges, bridging the gaps & misunderstandings, reaching compromise/meeting in the middle, etc. etc. From the moment the stray dog shows up and Harley goes on and on about how she has no desire to form bonds, ('I'm dangerous' - both to herself and others, she insists), it's pretty clear where this book is headed. Between the bridge; the dog; and a bracing, cleansing, near-drowning swim, the metaphors are not subtle ones. Not bad, nothing really groundbreaking.

17. Le Magasin des Suicides by Jean Teulé (French, 157 p.)

I picked this up based largely on the title and description (black humor & a comparison to Monty Python - how could I go wrong?). This was very much up my alley. Part Addams Family/Munsters, part Monty Python skit, clever idea.

Set in the future in la cité des Religions Oubliées, for generations, the Tuvache family has owned and run Le Magasin des Suicides (Suicide Shop). Yup, they sell everything needed to off yourself in whichever way you want to go, and guarantee success. They advise customers which products to buy based on how they want their death to be, and even help tie the knot in a noose so nothing can go wrong. The family consists of parents Mishima and Lucrèce and their 3 children Vincent, Marilyn and youngest Alan (yes, where Vincent & Marilyn are more obvious, Alan's name does get explained).

And Alan smiles. He's optimistic. He's ruining the store.

There is much about this slim novel that I absolutely loved. It is quite dark and quite funny. It has its faults. The ending is what the ending has to be, and it veers away somewhat annoyingly from what I love so much about the early part (which, in a book that is only around 150 p., does detract), but overall - if the subject matter isn't a non-starter - a great little read.

18. What Ho, Automaton! by Chris Dolley (156 p.)

This was another Early Reviewers book, and my 1st foray into the world of electronic books (I chose .PDF).

What Ho, Automaton! actually contains 2 stories: the eponymous What Ho! and also Something Rummy This Way Comes. It is a humorous homage to P.G. Wodehouse's Wooster & Jeeves, along with nods to Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot, combined with steampunk touches.

What Ho! introduces us to Reggie Worcester and how he encounters Reeves, a very human-looking automaton. Something Rummy continues their escapades with the two trying to find why the year's debutantes are disappearing. Needless to say, there's some cross-dressing.

Typical to the Wooster & Jeeves stories, Reeves is clearly the brains of the operation. He advises Reggie and must help get him out of a variety of pickles (often involving women who think Worcester has proposed marriage). Typical to steampunk, in addition to various automata and some steam-driven gadgetry, Queen Victoria is a scientific marvel.

What Ho! is a fun, light, quick read. It won't challenge your little grey cells (or even necessarily stick in them), but it will entertain them and give them a good laugh.

#20 That one sounds really interesting and has been added to my library wishlist!

Hi Rebeki! Thanks for dropping by. It is definitely quirky - probably a better idea than the execution (pun intended), but a fun, quick read.

19. The Art of Pho by Julian Hanshaw (112 p., graphic novel)

Ack, the touchstones...

In any event, the book:

Little Blue is dropped off in Vietnam and makes his way into Saigon. Here he starts his own Pho cart, which leads him into other directions in his life.

The illustrations are wonderful. There are lots of little details - to the point that it might not hurt to have a magnifying glass to pick up on some of them. The story is an interesting one, but just doesn't hold together. It makes sudden, jarring jumps, and also comes off heavy on some of the introspection and dreaminess.

On the other hand, there are also good looking recipes (though as a vegetarian, not a slew I can take advantage of) and info about local dishes and flavourings. That the book is based on Hanshaw's own time in Vietnam is clear. Aside from the food information, there are other travel writing elements to the story.

Despite its flaws, I do recommend it - but maybe give it a go from the library.

20. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski (c.600)

Edgar Sawtelle is born mute. He can hear, but for reasons unknown cannot speak. He learns his own version of sign language to communicate not only with the people around him, but with the special breed of 'Sawtelle dogs' his family has bred, raised & trained for generations. When one tragedy befalls, Edgar eventually leaves the farm, accompanied by some of the dogs. He ultimately returns in/for the final 'act'.

The novel has strong allusions, the main one being to Hamlet, and also The Jungle Book. The book felt so beholden to the allusions that the characters' actions didn't always make sense. Here, Edgar seems to veer from angry to trusting to paranoid to calm in ways that don't always hold together. He is well-developed as an incredibly intelligent child - smart, observant, linked in to the dogs, etc. - but then acts inconsistently. Whereas with Hamlet you always get that he can't act, with Edgar you're not quite sure why he isn't able to do so. In addition, while we are told again and again how special the dogs are, and what goes into the breeding decisions, it often doesn't come across in action as much more than their being reasonably clever and well-trained dogs. Oh, and there are ghosts.

I suspect this is a book I'll find myself thinking more about over time, and can think immediately of a few people I suspect will really enjoy it, but its flaws and inconsistencies keep it from being a favorite.

21. Grandville Mon Amour (104 p., graphic novel)

The 2nd of Bryan Talbot's Inspector LeBrock graphic novels, set in a steampunk post-Napoleonic Britain & Paris (aka Grandville) where Britain has battled for its independence from the tyrannical France. The characters are anthropomorphised animals (LeBrock is a badger, his boss a ram, his sidekick a rat, a madam in Paris is a hippo, etc.). Mad Dog Mastock, a former anarchist guerilla leader and vicious killer of prostitutes, has escaped prison and the guillotine and headed to Grandville. His spree continues, but is there more going on this time? Of course there is...

I actually think this one was better than the first and thought the story was more coherent. Once again, the illustrations are lavish and gorgeous. Talbot brings to life the richness and sumptuousness of the period, has wonderful steampunk visuals, and his sense of lighting is fantastic.

22. Hicksville by Dylan Horrocks (264 p., graphic novel)

This is a graphic novel that requires attention. There are stories within stories, different comics within the stories, dreams and magic. A journalist for a comics magazine goes to a remote New Zealand town, Hicksville, to write a story about their homegrown and now famous cartoonist. Instead, he encounters taciturn hostility any time he mentions the cartoonist's name. The story shifts between this and the lives and pasts of other Hicksville residents.

This is a comic book for comic book lovers. There are even two dream libraries that appear. It is an homage to the art form and the (lost) creativity. Hicksville criticises the suppression of individuality and celebrates some of the genre's lesser-known cartoonists. I must admit, I'm a relatively recent convert to graphic novels, and not well-versed in the comics - especially not superhero comics. As a result, it was more challenging to discern references to real characters vs. fictional ones. Well-worth sticking it out.

23. Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde (436 p.)

After having a tough time in the beginning keeping straight who was who and trying to sort through some of the hierarchies and workings of Fforde's society, I got sucked in. Fforde once again creates a clever dystopic satire with lots of 'wink-wink' humor (e.g., Greys named Dorian and Jane).

Society is divided by those who can see color, and how much of which. Greys are at the bottom rung - they comprise the labor force and are treated poorly by those further up the ladder. Eddie Russett, a young red soon due to take his Ishihara - the test to reveal your color and color strength - narrates. He is sure he's a pretty prominent Red. He and his father arrive in East Carmine in the Outer Fringes, where his father is to be the new Swatchman (think color doctor). When Eddie meets Jane (a grey), Tommo, and others, he gets caught up in the politics and underside. He begins to learn that all may not be as peachy as he thought.

At times it does feel that Fforde is consciously setting establishing a new series (supported by the announcement at the end of the next 2 titles); to me, this then has the result of coming across as more of a commercial venture than anything. And I'll be honest, I get how Mildew works, but then other things in retrospect don't make sense. That said, though, his books are always entertaining reads and I'm sure I'll read the next two; so who am I to judge?

24. I Am Number Four by Pittacus Lore (400 p., YA)

John is an alien, 1 of 9 who, 10 years earlier, escaped his home planet along with each one's guardian; they've separated and spread themselves out in the world. They are the survivors of a brutal attack by another alien species, a species that is hunting the 9 down 1 by 1 on Earth. A charm means that they have to be killed in order. The 1st 3 have been killed. John, the 15 year old narrator, is number 4.

Awful. Awful, awful, awful. This was originally meant to be a book club read, but the person who suggested it pulled the recommendation after starting to read it herself; I'd already ordered it. So, after languishing on the shelf a few months, I decided what the heck, it's summer, I could use a quick, entertaining read.

But this was appalling. The writing is facile. It reads like a badly manufactured, cliché ridden teen movie with no thought to the actual skill of writing. Information is conveniently stated, and 'twists' (at least I assume the author/s meant them to be surprises) are so obvious they are insulting. (re: a mysterious box, 'It's protected by a Loric charm, just like you are. It can't be broken...Only the two of us can open it together. Unless I die; then you can open it yourself.' p. 65. Ugh.)

It also utterly lacks in originality, like a bad combo of any superhero book or show (Smallville comes immediately to mind), Roswell, even how aliens are killed lacks originality (a bit of Buffy reduction to ashes).

This was the literary equivalent of the Rebecca Black song, 'Friday' - a juggernaut, completely devoid of thought or talent.

25. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley (362 p.)

Flavia de Luce is a precocious almost-11 year old, living with her father and two older sisters at Buckshaw, the family's once-stately seat in country village England; it is 1950. Flavia plots long-term revenge on her sisters, whom she finds relatively vapid. She is brilliant at chemistry, and uses the fully kitted lab originally built for an ancestor. Events take a turn soon after a dead snipe is left on the doorstep, its beak piercing through a and that night she hears her father having an argument with a stranger. When Flavia stumbles upon a body in the cucumber patch, she begins her own investigation into the mysterious dead stranger & her father's past - much to the consternation of the local police.

This is a fun, often funny, slightly gothic mystery - with philately, some magic, and chemistry. It is hard not to think of Flavia as at least slightly older than she is, but she makes for a clever, witty, spunky, intelligent main character. This was a perfect summer read - smart and light, bit of mystery, and a solid foundation for future books in the series.

26. Sag Harbor by Colson Whitehead (273 p.)

It is 1985. Benji (trying to use the summer to get people to switch to the more adult-sounding 'Ben') and his brother Reggie are, as usual, spending the Whole Summer out at Sag Harbor. He's the son of a doctor and a lawyer and is one of very few black students at his prep school in the City. He's more than familiar with the bar and bat mitzvah circuit. In Sag Harbor, despite being amongst other middle and upper middle class black families who also spend every summer out, Ben still often feels like an outsider, an observer of what is going on around him. At 15, he sees his friends growing up - not only thinking about girls, but actually dating them; playing with BB guns; driving; getting summer jobs. Ben brushes with these things, but still knows/feels like/is frustrated that he's lagging behind; to him, people in are still described in Dungeons & Dragons terms.

This is less a novel and more a series of beautifully constructed, lyrically written semi-autobiographical essays. It is not a perfectly linear story (though does start with going out and ends with season's end), but a more thematic fictionalized memoir. Each chapter is built around some aspect of that summer. The 80s references made for fun nostalgia trips. A funny, warm, sometimes bittersweet (aren't they all?) coming-of-age tale.

27. Garnethill by Denise Mina (445 p.)

I'd read about this book and knew enough about the storylines to know it would be a tough one. The main character, Maureen O'Donnell, is a young woman with a difficult past. Her mother is an alcoholic and Maureen herself has spent time as a psychiatric patient. She's been together for less than a year with a married psychiatrist when she wakes up with a mean hangover to find him brutally murdered in her flat.

When the police, and even her own family, seem to question whether she was responsible, doubts begin to creep in about her own sanity. In light of the murder, Maureen's vivid memories of sexual abuse by her father are also now being called into question by various members of her family.

Like I said, not an easy read. But let me compare it to Stieg Larsson's series. Garnethill comes across as a tighter and more realistic work. Any crime novel is going to have implausible plot developments and events, but instead of making the main character a (granted also psychologically damaged) morally ambiguous superhero, Maureen feels like a much more genuine character. She drinks heavily, her family is dysfunctional, she leans heavily on some friends and tries to keep others out of what is going on, she makes mistakes - the flaws are raw and real. And the book feels more tightly edited.

Fair warning though - don't make my mistake. Less than halfway through, I flipped casually through the 'other Bantam paperback books by Denise Mina' section at the end and saw whodunit. I'm actually pretty peeved they left that bit in in the description of the next book. It didn't ruin the book for me, but I definitely read it differently after that.

And next up should be light and funny...

28. The Scheme for Full Employment by Magnus Mills (255 p.)

After Garnethill, I needed something light and easy. The Scheme for Full Employment fit the bill.

This comic satire tracks the demise of the Scheme. The perfect Scheme. The Scheme employs people, pays them well, and runs smoothly. It pays them for an 8 hour day. And their day is set up to be a perfect 8 hours (well, 10 off the 8; or unless you can get a supervisor to sign off on an 'early swerve' - an early finish).

Some are drivers, transporting goods between specific depots in their purpose-built UniVans; some load and unload the goods being transported; some are supervisors; some are engineers; etc. All part of the Scheme. It is ideal.

But there's disquiet in the ranks, and employees begin to divide into two increasingly strident camps: the flat-dayers and the swervers.

This is an entertaining satire where, like the Scheme itself, very little happens. But that's ultimately the point. It falls a bit flat in the end, and there were glimmers of possibility for even more biting humor. Still and all, funny and frustrating look at the inevitable demise of a good social program idea.

29. Quite Ugly One Morning by Christopher Brookmyre (312 p.)

Brookmyre's debut novel, and introducing Jack Parlabane, an investigative journalist driven out of not one but two cities (London & L.A.) as a result of his diggings. A Glaswegian, he is back in Scotland - Edinburgh this time - and trying to lie low. No such luck when his downstairs neighbor is brutally murdered and it turns out his flat is about 50 yards from the police station.

QUOM is both quite funny and quite grisly. It had me laughing out loud in spots, and wincing in others. However, it wasn't a particularly original crime. I didn't mind at all that it isn't a mystery - in fact, you know fairly early on who-dun-what (and more or less why, though the specifics are revealed more slowly). But the crime and motivations have been done in a variety of ways before. That said, it is well written and biting, and I would definitely read more of his works (I've heard a lot about One Fine Day in the Middle of the Night).

30. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (143 p.)

While I've read other Vonnegut, somehow I'd missed Slaughterhouse-Five, or at least don't remember having read it before. That oversight has now been rectified.

Despite its slim page count, Slaughterhouse-Five is packed with messages, humor, satire, and science fiction time travel - not to mention a just plain good story. This is, in fact, a tale within a tale - Vonnegut sets out to write a story about his time in Dresden, and former-prisoner of war-&-witness-to-the-Dresden-bombing-turned-successful-and-wealthy-optometrist Billy Pilgrim's disorienting jumps forwards and back in time (and alien abduction by the Tralfamadorians) is that story. Keeping his promise to a fellow prisoner of war's wife, this is not a tale glorifying war (she is bitter about stories made into films with heroic, commanding figures like John Wayne), but one of real people - some no more than boys, others just out of their depth, many of whom die. So it goes.

Heavy subjects like life and death, the inevitability and ultimate futility of war & violence, and free will (or lack there of) are woven subtly through a deceptively simple and often very funny science fiction tale of one man's disjointed hops back and forth through his own life.

31. Montecore: en unik tiger by Jonas Hassen Khemiri (358 p., Swedish)

This is one of those books that, after reading it, even a couple weeks later I still want to talk about it - I'm hoping my husband does get around to reading it for just that reason.

It is difficult to do this book justice in a short review. There are bound to be layers and nuances omitted. But here goes...

Montecore consists of, how best to put it, a mix of letters, text, reflections and a few footnotes and interjections by/between the author (named Jonas Hassen Khemiri) and Kadir, a childhood friend of his father Abbas's from before Abbas marries a Swedish woman and emigrates from Tunisia to Sweden. The author/narrator has decided that the follow-up to his successful 1st novel will be a book about his father, and he and Kadir engage in discussions about what to include and how Abbas will be portrayed.

Abbas struggles in Sweden - he struggles to be accepted, to fit in, to get his photo studio off the ground, and to support his family. We see him make drastic changes (justified ones? wrong ones?) through Jonas's eyes (with explanations & interjections, & even objections from Kadir) - at the same time as we see Jonas going through similar struggles trying to find his own place in Sweden.

Having learned more Swedish since having read Khemiri's Ett öga rött, I enjoyed the language even more in this one. I never understood why people had such a tough time with the 1st one - the language seemed so natural to me. This one, I better appreciated the mix of 'proper' Swedish along with his father's (and Kadir's) own blend of French and Arabic influenced Swedish. When Jonas attempts to teach Abbas and Kadir - and to create language rules that also try to understand and explain Sweden itself - is a brilliant section.

It captures the immigrant experience, of trying to break into Swedish culture; it is a coming of age story; it is about fathers and sons; the Epilogue both sheds light and raises new questions; it is funny, sad, a celebration, a condemnation; it is about successes and failures; - it is all these things and more.

I'm so glad you enjoyed The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. I'm just finishing A Red Herring Without Mustard, and it's been a great read so far. I hope you enjoy the others as well.

Definitely looking forward to tracking down others in the series!

Can't believe this is the 1st book I've polished off since vacation. It's been that kind of return...

32. Shaman's Blood by Anne C. Petty (188 p., e-book, Early Reviewer)

My 2nd foray into e-books, and I don't love the experience or, in this case, the book.

Shaman's Blood is split between 2 time periods. In the 1950s-60s, Ned is the orphaned son of a young man beset by fits and visions and his wife - an older pseudo-seer who uses her own son's blood for her potions. In present day, there's Alice, who never knew her father and whose distant mother has just passed away. Alice and her daughter Margaret are also haunted and hunted by visions and Aboriginal demons.

While it sounded like it could be kind of fun and interesting, in execution it lurched between mediocre teen fiction (but too inappropriate to be categorized as such) and just plain poorly written. This affected my overall impression of the book so early on it became difficult to overcome. In the right hands, descriptive writing and a broad vocabulary become something lyrical and wonderful to read. Not here, where sentences are burdened with an unnecessarily over-used thesaurus and awkward similes. The author tries to use local dialect and language for the time and place (e.g., the 60s sections are peppered with things and people being groovy; the present day teenage daughter Margaret uses lots of text-speak and phrases like 'epic WIN'), but it feels forced and inauthentic.

"By the time the whisky slammed into his cerebellum big time, Ned knew he'd made a cold, hard mistake, the kind there was no backing away from, because he felt it coming at him full tilt." (p. 35)

Ugh. After that, it was an exercise in just finishing and moving on. I didn't read the book prior to this, and it is left clearly setting up for a sequel. I won't bother with either.

33. Radhusdisco by Morgan Larsson (446 p., Swedish)

Tales of a boy's growing up in Trollhättan, Sweden in the 1970s and primarily 1980s starting in early elementary school and ending with graduation from 9th grade (end of compulsory education at c. age 16).

This was a fine read, nothing particularly challenging, not much actually happens. Characters come and go and suddenly pop up again, threads are introduced only to drop away without development or resolution. But that's not really the point of the book, which is basically a trip down memory lane for the things one did at that time and at those different ages and stages. Fun to read about a town I know, my same generation, and what it was like then - and compare similar references.

34. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith (319 p., book club)

This book came at just the right time - insanely busy at work and certain amount of free time being spent watching costume dramas. Plus, Pride and Prejudice had been on TV not too long ago, so the storyline was fresh in my (non-zombified) memory. Thus, when the book club decided its post-summer revival read would be P&P&Z, I was quite happy.

The book does pretty much what it says on the tin: it retells P&P with zombies. The result is a respectfully humorous blend of P&P with the zombie trend. It worked that the independent, stubborn, wilful Elizabeth Bennet in this version is a highly trained warrior in the fight against the zombie plague. Lizzy's verbal sparring skills are augmented by her physical sword and gun abilities. However, her upbringing is not good enough for the likes of Mr Darcy and his privileged ilk - down to her 'second rate' training in China; anyone who's anyone is trained in Japan. The younger sisters are flighty, Mary is lost in the crowd, Collins is a buffoon and also resented for being the next heir to the Bennet's home, etc.

I usually don't like parodies - they often feel forced, too broad, &/or quickly lose what steam they have. Yes, there are some obvious double entendres. But otherwise, it felt like Grahame-Smith remained faithful to the language, characters and storylines while building in the zombie thread. Enjoyable and just what I needed.

35. Perdido Street Station by China Miéville (867 p.)

This had been on my mental wish list, then found it at Oxfam, then finally decided I would not be daunted any longer by the amount of space it was taking up on the bookshelf. I was not disappointed. Plus, despite its length, this was actually a quicker read than expected.

Miéville creates a dark, rough urban society with elements of fantasy, steampunk, sci fi, etc. At one point, some of the characters go to a sideshow - but so many of the characters and aspects of the society are like a grotesque sideshow. Humans, khepris (half human, half beetle), garudas (bird-people), vodyanoi (frog-like creatures), Remades, cactacae (cactus people), and more, all living in the teeming, grimy city-state, New Crobuzon. The main story centers around Isaac, a renegade scientist who agrees to try to create wings for a de-winged garuda. His research leads to the unleashing of a violent creature on New Crobuzon.

This is an intense book, and at times I wished I'd broken it up with something a bit lighter. But I found it so engrossing and was so drawn into the story that I didn't want to put it down. I do agree with the criticism that the later part of the book loses sight of what was so interesting in the beginning - it becomes a battle for control and survival, with attacks and defense coming from many angles.

I would definitely read more by Miéville - but will have something light to follow up right after.

36. Superman: Red Son by Mark Millar (160 p.)

Imagine if Superman landed in The Ukraine and Stalinist USSR instead of middle America in 1938. That is precisely what this take on Superman does. This is in fact the compilation of 3 comics: Red Son Rising, Red Son Ascendant, and Red Son Setting.

The graphics are fantastic - bold, with strong nods to Soviet propaganda prints.

The usual Superman regulars are present - Lex Luthor, Lois (but not Lane), the Daily Planet and others - though having followed different paths. Batman, Wonder Woman, the Green Lantern and more also make appearances.

This appealed to my love of alternate histories and new angles on classic tales. It is risky to take something so iconically American and place it in the Soviet Union and introduce a gray moral area. On the whole, it worked quite well.

37. Enhet by Ninni Holmqvist (270 p., Swedish)

First, a small rant - it drives me a bit crazy that LT touchstones default to the English title of the work, regardless of original language. I'm sure there's a way to override, but for now will just whinge about it.

Enhet is set in a dystopian present-day Sweden. In order to fulfill usefulness to the State, childless adults are brought to the Unit (Enhet) - at age 50 for women and 60 for men. It is a decision that was reached democratically, though creepingly enough for Dorrit never to have had children herself. Raised to be independent, she suddenly finds herself 50, without dependents to make her useful, and being brought to the Unit. Life there is comparatively comfortable, with everything at their beck and call - food, theater, gym facilities, spa, monthly welcome parties, and more - not to mention quick and vital friendships that form amongst the residents. But there's a dark side to their presence there - their purpose is to be guinea pigs and organ donors (leading to the inevitable slutdonation - final donation -) for those who really need it.

This book examines very Swedish dilemmas - just how far is one's duty to the greater good? Is individual choice selfish? If a decision - right or wrong - is arrived at democratically, should it still be carried out? Which is preferable - a life alone with choice or a life with close, though by design relatively short-lived, friendships?

This book creeps up on you. It took a bit to get drawn into it, to see the first part for what it was and not just lots of naive listing of great things about the Unit (though with a constant underlying pall). By the end it has raised interesting ethical questions living uncomfortably in a very, very grey zone.

38. The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag by Alan Bradley (344 p.)

In a fit of retail bookshop therapy, I picked up the 2nd in the Flavia de Luce mystery series. Once again, the ever-precocious, poison concocting, chemistry enthusiast Flavia finds herself in the middle of a crime scene where all is not as it seems. Flavia encounters a puppeteer and his assistant whose van has broken down. Her keen observations reveal troubles and traumas bubbling under the surface of village life. A past tragedy is dredged up and, ultimately, there is a shocking death.

In addition to the already-mentioned traits, there is more torture by her older sisters, met by Flavia's concocting her revenge. This 2nd work is as fun as the 1st. My one complaint is that it felt a bit repetitive at times. Otherwise, a very enjoyable mystery series with an appealing and clever juvenile detective.

39. Floating Worlds: The Letters of Edward Gorey & Peter F. Neumeyer (256 p., early reviewer)

I was excited to receive Floating Worlds as part of LT Early Reviewers. Included are not only letters between the two authors, who, in the late 1960s, collaborated on a series of books (such as Donald has a Difficulty), but also envelopes embellished with Gorey's distinctive drawings that were sent to Neumeyer. As Neumeyer himself points out, the letters represent an incredibly intense period of correspondence between them - Sept. 1968-Sept. 1971 (with a sharp drop already in 1969). The book itself is beautifully bound with thick, glossy pages and with the envelopes in their full, glorious color.

For any Gorey admirer, this book provides insights into the author/illustrator's life. That he was an avid reader, an ardent patron of NY Ballet, and animal lover are not revelations. But the ways in which these come through in his letters show just how deep, passionate, or prolific he was about these. He sometimes reveals his incredulity over his fans, and even writes hoping Neumeyer will soon have similar experiences so they can compare. His moments of stress and feeling overwhelmed are no surprise when one thinks about the sheer volume of activity going on: 4-8 ballets a week during the season, several films, reading and discussing multiple books at once, writing & illustrating his own books, illustrating books for others (such as Neumeyer), visits to or from friends and family, dealing with publishers and agents, etc.

Both men are erudite, and along with the letters they send each other books, articles, snippets from newspapers, which are then discussed in the correspondence. One sees why the two men became such fast friends, if even for a relatively short time - and all thanks to Neumeyer's essentially managing to dislocate Gorey's shoulder in the course of their 1st meeting.

One could easily sit with this book and a notepad, just to be able to research (and later hunt down) many of their references. In fact, I ended up acquiring a book off the strength of its mention in a footnote. The occasional reprints of the actual letters themselves - as typewritten or handwritten - are particularly enjoyable. And this is my one quibble with the book - I would have liked more of these, as they show more style and bring their exchanges more to life. It also helped break up what was sometimes very dense writing of letters that went on for pages at a time. And again, those envelopes and quirky postcards! To have received even one... Ahh, a gal can dream.

40. L'Hoste incert by Edward Gorey, Catalan translation Jordi Puntí

So there I am at a museum gift shop in Barcelona, and I come across this gem: a bilingual English-Catalan edition of Edward Gorey's marvelous The Doubtful Guest. (Yes, clearly from the previous entry, I had Gorey on the brain...) I chose this one over others because it keeps the English under the drawings, and on the opposite page has the Catalan (as opposed to ones that were purely Spanish or Catalan translations). Props to the translator who seems to have maintained both the spirit and rhythm of one of my favorite of Gorey's (this, based on using French/Spanish to piece together a rudimentary understanding of Catalan).

"All at once it leapt down and ran into the hall,/Where it chose to remain with its nose to the wall." becomes "Amb un salt se'ls ficà dins la casa de dret,/i es quedà, decidit, de cara a la paret."

A quirky addition to the collection.

41. False Friends: Faux Amis Book 2 by Ellie Malet Spradbery (104 p., reference, Early Reviewer)

A disappointing French-English reference. I was happy to get the .pdf e-book version, with the idea that this would be a fun, handy little reference when traveling. I also thought I could use it to brush up on things I've forgotten over the years.

However, it's just a lot of lists, with little rhyme or reason. The faux amis section (1 of 6 sections) only goes one way, so French words are in quasi-alphabetical order but then there's no corresponding English-French section. Similarly, the French expressions are a series of phrases, vocabulary, & sayings: again, not a lot of organisation. In the same section, then, you get 'un arc-boutant' is a flying buttress and, a bit further down, that 'une araignée au plafond' corresponds to the English phrase 'bats in the belfry'.

The section 'Twins, Triplets, etc.' is a bad sign from the start. If there's an etc. in a reference section, you can already tell it'll be a bit of a hodgepodge. I found the layout of this section quite confusing. Sometimes it seemed to be homophones, others just similar words, sometimes it was the French that was a twin, sometimes the English, but still always alphabetised for the French. The lists are, in typical British learning style, simply vocabulary lists of a rather random set of categories (insects, maladies, automobile, footie, and apparently round 2 of birds). Miscellaneous, like etc., indicates another mishmash of words and phrases. And finally at the end is 'English Expressions' - the one time the reference is switched to English-French. However, since none of it ties together or refers back to other sections, it again isn't as useful as a regular reference tool.

This is also only really useful if you already have a good knowledge of French. There are no explanations for anything, other than a short list of abbreviations applied inconsistently in the book. For example, for anyone who doesn't already speak French, there's also no pronunciation guide. It also requires a good knowledge of where to look up the alphabetised French - you need to know to look under 'vie...' for the conjugated 'je viens de...' (I have just) as opposed to the infinitive form 'venir de...'. This isn't a far way to go, obviously, but also demonstrates the inconsistency. Nouns are inconsistently labeled as masculine or feminine, and again only if you already have a knowledge of articles and adjectives will you be able to tell (e.g., the listing is 'verre dépoli' for frosted glass - if you don't know that dépoli is the masculine form of the adjective, you'd have no idea that verre is a masculine noun). The Miscellaneous section does include some explanations, but again without some knowledge of French can be confusing (the English column of 'une exécution, un secrétaire' is 'NB: acute accent on the 2nd e' - if you don't remember what that means, this is really of little import; the difference between Welsh - gallois/es and Gallic - gaulois/es is fine, but it doesn't mention that Gauloises are also a brand of cigarettes).

It is also British English, so there are certain words and phrases that won't make much sense in a non-British English context (a famous luvvie - under 'f' for famous - is 'un acteur célèbre (et prétentieux !)' ).

All in all, not what I'd hoped.

42. The Woman in White (720 p.)

After moving from my wishlist to my bookshelves (thanks to an Oxfam find), I finally figured the darkening approach of winter was a good time to give it a go.

A young artist is hired by the always-whimpering hypochondriac Frederick Fairlie to teach his niece, Laura Fairlie, and step-niece, Marian Halcombe, art. While the delicate Laura and the clever and headstrong Marian could not be more different, they are devoted half-sisters. Laura is engaged to Sir Percival Glyde, a marriage she looks even less forward to when she realises she has feelings for her art teacher Walter Hartright. Meanwhile, Hartright has encountered a mysterious and nervous woman in white who, it unfolds, has escaped from an Asylum, and has a disturbing message delivered to Laura Fairlie. Things go from bad to worse when Laura marries Glyde. Rounding out the key characters are the sinisterly charming Italian Count Fosco and his wife, Laura's disinherited aunt.

What ensues is a soap-operatic, frenzied series of events complete with mystery, paranoia, secrets, machinations, clandestine meetings, sneaking around, deaths, twists and turns, unrequited love, revenge, and more. It is important to remember, in its original form, this was a serialized work. That Collins and Charles Dickens were friends should come as no surprise either. Marian in particular can be a frustrating character - she's at once independent and constantly (bemoaning? highlighting?) her inherent feminine weaknesses. But while it is dated in this sense (and others), it is also wonderfully overwrought and tense and a fine, entertaining read.

43. What A Life! An Autobiography (128 p., illustrated)

As the preface states, "As adventures are to the adventurous, so is romance to the romantic. One man searching the pages of Whitely's General Catalogue will find only facts and prices; another will find what we think we have found - a deeply moving human drama."

Originally published in 1911, E.V. Lucas & George Morrow took a catalogue and, using images cut out from it, assembled this humorous 'autobiography' of a Victorian gentleman. I cannot imagine that Monty Python, and in particular Terry Gilliam's similar cut-out imagery, are not influenced by this slim, quirky work.

The narrative includes not only the collage of catalogue images, but a narrative rich with comically posh named characters, infatuations, even a chapter with a country estate crime (while staying with Lord Bunderbourne, there is a jewelry heist).

Purchased on a whim based on a mention in a footnote of Floating Worlds (see number 44 above), this was a fantastic revelation - funny, odd, charming, clever. A pre-cursor not only to Monty Python, I can see why Neumeyer recommended this to Edward Gorey (and why he was surprised Gorey didn't already know it). If you like this type of humor, this is a must-have for your library.

44. Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword by Barry Deutsch (142 p., graphic novel)

Mirka is an Orthodox Jewish 11-year old girl. She is impatient with (and not skilled at) traditional tasks such as knitting, which her stepmother is constantly trying to get Mirka to focus on. Instead, she wants to be a dragon slayer. She pores over her book of monsters and dreams of conquering them. Mirka's encounter with a witch provides a tempting opportunity - one which ultimately puts her stepmother in a new light.

Fun, interesting graphic novel and a really good holiday surprise gift.

And to wrap up 2011:

45. SS-GB by Len Deighton (402 p.)

Alternate history in which Britain has signed an instrument of surrender to Germany in 1941. The police are now led by Germans, and the British force is adapting in different ways. There are rumors the King is alive but imprisoned, and there are pockets of resistance. When a man is found dead with mysterious sunburn-like marks, Detective Superintendent Douglas Archer (nicknamed Archer of the Yard) finds himself embroiled in a power struggle between Britain and Germany, but also within the various German forces.

A good way to close out 2011.