Book Review: Out Stealing Horses

Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson

I always pay close attention to the New York Times Book Review 10 Best Books of the Year. Not every book on the last will appeal to me, but the description of Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses, and the heaps of praise it received, put it on my list immediately.

The book is not about horses; don't be misled. It is about attempting to escape the past and how it will catch up with you. A theme I enjoy. Despite the narrator's relocation to remote northern Norway, with his dog and his out of place Nissan station wagon, circumstances and coincidence lead him to relive events in his past.

I appreciated this book for many reasons. Thematically, it is something I can appreciate. I love the romantic notion of packing up your essentials and moving far away to a one room cabin and wilderness outside the window. And there is enough violence and tragedy here to please me.

It wasn't until Hamsun's name appeared in the text that I realized that I'd read another Norwegian novel just a couple of books back. Though Hunger is a classic of sorts, this book fulfills in ways that it did not. The characters are rich and shaken. And there's plenty of story here to keep you reading.

I would certainly highly recommend this book. I would put this book on a shelf with others I was proud to have read.

Book Review: The Death of Sweet Mister

The Death of Sweet Mister by Daniel Woodrell

Daniel Woodrell's Winter's Bone was one of the best books I've ever read, so I naturally picked up several of his other novels. The Death of Sweet Mister is populated with the same sort of misfits. It feels wrong to call them hillbillies, but the events of the novel fulfill some of our worst ideas of the dwellers of the backwoods and hollows of the Ozarks. Like Winter's Bone, the central character of this novel is also a juvenile, but with none of the same spunk and determination.

There is much violence and general brutality here, a world bleak and desperate, but rendered with precision. Woodrell's writing talent is certainly on display here, though the book is hardly as haunting as Winter's Bone. And though I enjoyed it, the novel has elements that are disturbing and hard to get past.

Book Review: Hunger

Hunger by Knut Hamsun

I love confessional novels with narrators expressing their maladies, coming clean on their madness. I love novels of mad desperation, of wanderers, of those lost in a world that is too big and overwhelming. This book, though, is no Notes from Underground. This is no Season in Hell, no Maldoror.

Hamsun's narrator is poor and hungry, driven by some sort of will he cannot control to do idiotic things. And this might be okay. It could be a good place to start, but there is no advancement. There are small dilemmas that take some time to resolve, but the narrator does not change. He does not get worse. His madness and hunger do not accelerate to a point where you know something horrible is likely to happen. His undirected will doesn't even take him on any significant adventures or put him in too much danger.

This book sounded like something I would like and even coming in with that expectations, the book did not succeed. I was disappointed.

Book Review: The Easter Parade

The Easter Parade by Richard Yates

I read somewhere that The Easter Parade was Richard Yates's most depressing book. I doubt that it was really written like that, but I was already a fan of Revolutionary Road and his short stories, so I picked up the book and was eager to get to it. Sometimes, though, your impression of the book you're reading is impacted by the books you read immediately before that one. Coming off two good reads, I was disappointed by this one.

The Easter Parade is the story, the life story really, of two sisters. Things for them and between them never really improve. We watch the same disjointeness over decades. While we are sad to see people not live up to their potential, it diverges so little from the normal course of life that we are hardly surprised.

I enjoy Yates's more formal style. It is immediately confortable and unpretentious. It is writing like you learned in AP English. And that is a nice change from many more modern novles.

In no way did the book live up to Revolutionary Road. Here the misery was quiet, buried under complacency and compromise. So, it was depressing, yes. I just was looking for something that would strike me a little deeper.

Short Story Review: DeLillo in the New Yorker

"Midnight in Dostoevsky" by Don DeLillo, in the November 30, 2009, New Yorker

Maybe it's me. I've been pretty task-driven lately. That means no real pleasure reading. This makes reading short stories a little difficult. The brevity is helpful, but without a purpose, without resolution, I'm hard-pressed to come away with anything from them.

This is the case with Don DeLillo's short story "Midnight in Dostoevsky" that appeared in the New Yorker. A sentence from the final paragraph sums it up: "I wondered what it was that had caused this thing to happen."

I really enjoyed DeLillo's White Noise, and I think that makes me more inclined to like his work. This was certainly one of the reasons I took the time to read this story. As good as the writing was, I came away disappointed.

The story follows a pair of eccentric college students in cold Midwestern town. They think they know everything, even when they know that they don't. The imagine the the life of a distracted logic professor and they make up the life of an old man they pass on the street. The central character talks to a female student who, it turns out, talks just like him and then disappears from the story. And in the end there is a bit of pointless violence that comes out of nowhere, serves no purpose and leaves us hanging.

Surely DeLillo could place any story he wants in the New Yorker. And I doubt if the editors are going to criticize much. Of course there is good writing here:

I knew where my father was--in Beijing, trying to wedge his securities firm into the Chinese century.

At the library, I devoured about a hundred pages a setting, small cramped type.

He shaves, we thought. He cuts himself and says shit. He wads up a sheet of toilet paper and holds it to his cut. Then he leans into the mirror, seeing himself clearly for the first time in years. Ilgauskas, he thinks.

I just was hoping for a little more from DeLillo in the New Yorker. But, then again, maybe it's me.

Book Review: Lust

Lust by Susan Minot

The topic, very cleary, of all of these stories is relationships, or more specifically the complications of emotions involved when we get involved. Minot's characters often expect too much, even when they expect nothing, and are left feeling vacant and wasted. The eagerness with which the women in these stories would search out any sort of love is so earnest and sad. The stories, often told in first person, reminded me in the end of the stories of Anna Kavan. They are that good. Though I don't know it for sure, I would find it hard to belive that Minot didn't at some point read Kavan. The stories are brief and sharp. Languishing in the misery that appears inevitable here would be unendurable, but Minot gets us there, hits us quickly, and moves on. I read these stories in a single evening and it seemed to me to be the perfect way to digest these terrific stories.

Surefire Plot Generator

"Put your left hand on the table. Put your right hand in the air. If you stay that way long enough, you'll get a plot." - Margaret Atwood

Work Mode to Writing Mode

Sometimes the go-go-go gets to me.

I am eager to get ahead at work, at school, to learn everything I can, to get better. Yesterday, I was reading Harvard Business Review, CFO Magazine, Business Week, and the Wall Street Journal. All in an effort to learn what I can learn. But there in the Journal was an interview with Alice Munro.

There was a physical click in my head, a switch turned from one mode to another, and I was thinking about writing. Not just the outcome, but the process. And it made me eager to write again. To be creating. The feeling didn't argue against the other part of my life, but it was a reminder of a calling. Something inside me is deeply linked to that process of writing. Of course that part of me has been neglected. I've had the pleasure of writing papers. There is always that pleasure in stringing words together, in getting the right tone, the right emphasis. But all other forms of writing have been neglected.

So, I may be in the need of a break, but I'm also eager to get back to work.

Book Review: All the Pretty Horses

All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy

McCarthy really knows what he's doing. Disregards the rules and it all works. This is the fifth book I've read by him and I'm always amazed. And each book stands alone. This one is reminiscent of Blood Meridian and even No Country for Old Men because of the wandering over dry landscapes. But where Blood Meridan at times seemed pointless, John Grady Cole is driven. And he drives the reader on. I usually don't go for books with settings that are too unfamiliar. I will usually get lost trying to imagine things I've never seen, or I get lost because the writer assumes the reader has a basic understanding of the setting. While McCarthy uses names for plants and landscapes that I don't know, the settings are so much a part of the mood and the tone of the text that I don't feel like I've missed a thing. If anything, I'm only more inspired now to go see the places he has described.

Tragedy always seems to be around the corner in McCarthy's novels, but even though I know it is coming, I am always appropriately shocked. I don't think this novel has the same spark as Suttree, but everything in All the Pretty Horses has a purpose, is firmly grounded in a sense of justice. It may not be a justice we're familiar with, but everything feels well anchored.

Love is not a often a subject in McCarthy's novels, but here it is a key element and handled with deft and tact. No one would accuse the author of sentimentality, but the reader does not doubt that the emotions being described are not true.

Obviously, I should have read this book many ages ago. And the pleasure I had in reading the novel moves up McCarthy's other novels on my reading list.

Summer Reading Book Reviews to Come

As crazy as things have been over the summer and this fall, I have managed to read a slew of books. And I promise that reviews--as brief as they're liable to be--are coming. Here is the list:

All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy
Lust by Susan Minot
The Easter Parade by Richard Yates
Hunger by Knut Hamsun
The Death of Sweet Mister by Daniel Woodrell
Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson
Dear American Airlines by Jonathan Miles
No One Belongs Here More than You by Miranda July
Child of God by Cormac McCarthy
The Moviegoer by Walker Percy

BNSF and Warren Buffet: Does it mean anything?

After the announcement this week that Warren Buffet was going to buy out the remaining bit of Burlington Northern Santa Fe that he didn't already own seemed to spark some debate about what it should mean. I suggest that we might not want to read too much into it.

Buffet deserves a huge amount of deference because of his ability to make money, to make smart choices, to see the fundamentals of the fundamentals, but it might not always be a good idea to think that the common investor, or even an economist, should mimic his actions.

A GDP play was how most people seemed to read it this week. The idea is that as the economy cranks back up so will the fortunes of BNSF. There is truth in it. When cargo falls away to nothing there is nowhere to go but up.

An oil-price play is another way to take it. If the price of a barrel continues to climb, and as the dollar falls, fuel prices will escalate. Trucking becomes increasingly inefficient and rail begins to make a lot more sense for moving freight around this country.

The problem with both of these notions is that any advantage rail has is strictly near-term. Until there is significant investment in the rail infrastructure, until we can actually move more trains and more freight, the growth potential is limited. Expansion of the US rail lines is absolutely necessary. Passenger rail is limited by the constraints on freight rail. When they compete for the same space on the same set of tracks, we are losing some potential in both.

Unless Buffet knows something more about real infrastructure investment, the chances of making huge sums of money in his purchase of BNSF seems unlikely. He'll make some money in the recovery, and he'll make some money as the price of fuel climbs, but it is unlikely that he bought it for any of these reasons.

The two reasons Buffet gave are the more likely reasons than any of the speculative motives: he is always willing to buy more of anything he is invested in---and his father never bought him a toy train when he was a child

Comcast, NBC Deal Bad for Consumers

It is not a bad idea for GE to get out of the TV business. If there a step too far in diversification, this might be it. There are other companies out there who could give NBC the attention it deserves (though, what would happen to all of those GE jokes on 30 Rock?). Comcast, though, is not the right buyer.

Cable providers, in most markets, seem to have us where they want us. If we want cable, we only have a few choices, including the satellite companies. Here in the Denver area, for instance, Comcast is it for cable. The only other option is for a dish company.

So what happens, then, when a behemoth in the cable market owns some of the best content on broadcast and cable? How much are the competing companies have to pay to get access to those channels? And how much is your cable bill going to go up?

Now, I understand the position Comcast is in. Internet viewing, including on demand, is screwing up their model. So, the NBC/Universal thing is clearly a defensive play. There are ways, though, to embrace the changes, forge new deals, and take advantage before too many standards are established. If a subscriber model works for cable, wouldn't it work for online television? It would be good if my cable subscription gave me access to all of the shows I missed during the week so I could watch them from work while I eat lunch (okay, maybe while I work, too).

Maybe this deal could be good for both GE and Comcast, but I don't think it would be good for me and you.

Dismissing Slack to Raise Inflation Fears

The Wall Street Journal on Monday (yes, I am that far behind) had a lengthy article on the slack in the economy. And while the article goes in depth on various components of the economy that have room to make up before inflation could ever begin to kick in, they of course get it (purposefully) wrong.

The begin the discussion on track:
The interplay between slack and inflation is at the heart of that decision [for the Fed to raise interest rates]. Slack is important to their equation because, in theory, it should suppress wages and keep inflation down.

You can sense the skepticism there, but it continues:
But if the Fed misreads the dimensions or significance of slack, it could unleash an unwelcome bout of rising prices.

Not wrong, but you're beginning to see their thesis. And then:
The risk of inflation is significant.

Alright, back down. There is a difference between long-term and short-term here. Sure, keeping rates low after the recovery begins kicking in (like the Fed did under a different Administration) could certainly lead to inflation. I'll agree that the timing is critical, but the risk right now is not significant.

Of course, it's not just a question of rates. The liquidity in the system, will need to be absorbed as well. And budget deficits don't help. But durable goods order shrunk last month, the ISM manufacturing index barely crossed 50 into positive territory, and jobs will continue to be a problem for some time. I don't think we're in much danger right now of rising prices.

The article then injects an interesting theory:
If businesses and workers expect more inflation, the theory goes, they start demanding wage and price increases and set off the inflation they fear.

So, I'm a manufacturer, let's say, who believes that the Fed is really mucking things up and inflation is right around the corner. And, though, I haven't seen an increase in raw material prices yet, I'm going to raise prices in a struggling economy to try and recapture some of the money I think I'm going to lose in the future.

Or, I'm a union rep negotiating a new contract, when job losses are happening all around me, and I'm going to demand wage increases for men and women who are grateful to have jobs because I think that the cost of living is going to rise, at some point.

Both things would be a mistake. And, yes, I could see how those things could help stir up inflation, but the likelihood of anyone taking those risks when recovery is still uncertain is pretty low.

Though the article throws in plenty of numbers and some good quotes on the extent of slack in the economy, the purpose of the article is clearly to gin up inflation fears. Maybe it's just a supply-side issue, and the people overly concerned about inflation are just ignoring the demand side of things that becomes increasingly critical when things turn bad. Waiting too long to raise interest rates is dangerous, but raising interest rates will not lead us to recovery.

The Fed Needs to Look to the Future

The FOMC statement released yesterday made it clear that, despite improvements in the economy, the Fed is not interested in raising rates or reabsorbing any of the liquidity out there. In fact, they "will continue to employ a wide range of tools to promote economic recovery and to preserve price stability."

I don't expect a change right now. Raising rates now or trying to get the Fed's balance sheet back to normal anytime soon would shock the system. Now is not the time. But we don't really read the Fed statement to read the committee's take on the current economic stituation. We are looking for some hints to the future. Apparently, the Fed is not looking far enough into the future to even hint in changes in policy. Alright, they "will gradually slow the pace of these purchases [mortgage-backed securities] in order to promote a smooth transition in markets," but this doesn't provide much guidance.
The main concern over rates is the impact on mortgage rates, and thus home purchases. If the Fed raises the target range for the federal funds rate from its current 0.0%-0.25%, the arguement goes, then mortgage rates go up and less people will buy homes. This is true, but not necessarily a bad thing. Many blame the whole housing bubble on Greenspan keeping rates low for so long, letting many people who shouldn't own homes get into them cheaply. Higher mortgage rates could slow recovery, but we face some risk in keeping rates low.

The real problem with low fed rate now, as I see it, is the effect on financial markets. With low rates, the yields that banks make on lending is also low. So, not only are banks reluctant to take on too much risk right now (for good reason), but they also don't have much financial incentive to do so. If the statement had hinted at the possiblity of raising rates even as soon as the first quarter of 2010 this would have gone a long way in getting money flowing again, inspiring banks to lend, helping businesses make the investments they should be making in this downturn.

I certainly agree with the inflation statement:
With substantial resource slack likely to continue to dampen cost pressures and with longer-term inflation expectations stable, the Committee expects that inflation will remain subdued for some time.
When prices are dropping there is little need to raise rates to slow down anything. I would have liked, and it seems like the market would have liked, a stronger hint as to when and how the Fed will reign in all of its liquidity programs and begin to inch up interest rates. It also would have helped people to believe that a real recovery is taking place.

Those Afternoons: An Excerpt

The following is an excerpt from my short story "Those Afternoons":

The letter was stashed between a repair manual for the 1968-1976 Dodge Duster and another for the 1986-1987 Ford Taurus which leaned against one another on a shelf over his workbench. Harrison knew it was there as he walked out the side door of this house towards the garage. He had known it was there while he sat at the table eating grapefruit with his wife earlier that morning. He had known it was there the night before when he lay next to his wife in bed. He knew it was there since he put it there yesterday.

The letter came in the mail on Saturday. Harrison was working in his garage, sitting on a stool, trying to fix the fast idle cam on a carburetor when the mailman passed. He was glad to quit struggling with the thing and get the mail. He was in his late forties but already his hands felt blunted and shaky and looked perpetually swollen, calloused and dirty. Too much of his life had been spent underneath hoods trying to loosen rusted bolts that hid out of sight and nearly out of reach. His hands and back paid the price for that labor.

The telephone bill, the utility bill, two credit card applications, a new JC Whitney catalog and the letter. He recognized the handwriting immediately. Thirty years hadn’t changed it much since he’d first seen it, the words to “Rebel Rebel” written on the cover of a spiral notebook. But he hadn’t heard from Randy in many years. It wasn’t just the author of the letter, though, that made him hide it. It was the local return address.

Instead of walking the mail straight inside and using it as an excuse to have a Dr. Pepper and check the news from his recliner, he went back to his garage, a detached one-car unit that still had the old door that swung up flat in one piece, without the aid of an opener, the same garage where he’d worked with his father and his own son after that. He slid the letter between the soiled books without opening it.

Sunday morning he had patiently spooned bits of his grapefruit into his mouth while he looked over the classifieds, looking as he had for years for cars in need of repair that were going cheap, cars that he might turn around for a profit after a couple months’ worth of weekends spent working on them. And the whole while he could think about nothing but the letter, about what could have precipitated it, about what Randy could have to say to him now, after all this time.

Of the letter he said not a thing to his wife. She sat across from him, clipping coupons for her trip to the grocery that would follow church. Grace believed that going to church made her a better person. Not that God would look kindly on her, but the sermons and hymns served as a reminder of how to live a decent and moral life. Harrison had long ago wormed his way out of this duty, after his son, Jake, became too old for Sunday school. He was awkward in social situations and all the hand-shaking and niceties didn’t suit him. Grace seemed grateful for the ease of going alone, and Harrison was glad to have the house to himself, if only for a few hours. Usually he spent that time as he would have had she been home: in the garage.