WaPo's Top Ten Books of 2007

Only two of the five fiction titles are the same as the NTYBR.

Finn, by Jon Clinch
The Last Cavalier, by Alexandre Dumas; translated from the French by Lauren Yoder
On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan
The Savage Detectives, by Roberto Bolano
Tree of Smoke, by Denis Johnson

Edith Wharton, by Hermione Lee
FDR, by Jean Edward Smith
Ralph Ellison: A Biography, by Arnold Rampersad
The Unnatural History of the Sea, by Callum Roberts
The Zookeeper's Wife: A War Story, by Diane Ackerman

Neighbors Reflect on a Death No One Noticed

Neighbors Reflect on a Death No One Noticed - New York Times: "Ms. Copeman was upstairs, dead, curled in a fetal position in the hallway, where the police found her skeletal remains on Monday morning, said Peter Bishop, her nephew. She was dressed to go out, in a coat and a beret, Mr. Bishop said. “Winter clothes on,” he said yesterday, “so I guess she died in the winter.” Ms. Copeman had died of heart disease, the medical examiner said yesterday. The police said she had been dead between a year and 18 months."

Newsletter Update

Let me say this first, the service I had been using to send out the weekly blog newsletter, Zookoda, sucks. They were bought out by a company called PayPerPost, whose purpose is to have people blog for money by writing about products. As you can imagine, the company could care less about its free newsletter service while it's busy robbing the authenticity from blogging. So, the service has gone down hill, trouble tickets go unanswered, and the can't seem to read my RSS feed anymore.

So, I decided I might try Feedburner. The trouble there is that when you sign up (using the form on the right) you don't get a weekly newsletter, like I would like to distribute, but instead you get daily updates. I get enough email as it is. I'd like this newsletter to come to you on the weekend, when you might actually have some time to read and give the posts some thought (and of course you're always welcome to post comments).

For now, I think I'll do it the old fashioned way and dump the week's blog content into a regular old email and send it out. For those of you up on the technology and want to put satoriworks into your newsreader, there are now three feeds available:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/satoriworks
http://satoriworks.blogspot.com/rss.xml
http://satoriworks.blogspot.com/atom.xml

Thanks for your patience.

Updating the update: So, we're going to try Feedblitz now for the weekly updates.

Movie Review: No Country For Old Men

No Country For Old Men

Based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy and produced and directed by the Coen Brothers of Fargo and Raising Arizona, No Country For Old Men had a lot to live up to. It wasn't very long into the movie, though, before I thought to myself, "Damn, this is good." It wasn't just that every setting was just how McCarthy's description made me imagine it. It was just that so much of it was spot on. The dialogue was just so real and believable. Capturing all of the idioms we use daily is a hard thing for writers to do, I believe. To hear McCarthy's dialogue come out of characters, many of them ancillary and insignificant, who look as rough as the landscape that surrounds them, is nearly to be right there. It is authentic. Or it has the feeling of a portrayal of authenticity, at least.

Tommy Lee Jones is always good, but as a tired and death-obsessed west Texas Sheriff, he is perfect. And the villain, portrayed by Javier Bardem, is creepy and unsettling, and his philosophy gets under your skin.

It really was an excellent movie, despite a couple of quirks at the end that escape the normal Hollywood conventions. I imagine some might be upset with the way it ends, but any other direction would have been blasphemy.

NYTBR Picks Best Books

So, not that any of the fiction titles on the list should surprise anyone, they all had great reviews and were all generally well received. What makes the list remarkable is that it doesn't include any of the big-hitters who had books out this year. No Philip Roth, no Don DeLillo, no Richard Russo, not even Alice Munro or Michael Chabon. The only real surprise here might be the Michael Thomas title. As far as the non-fiction goes, this should just reinforce that Emerald City and The Nine are both worth reading. Anyway, more titles to add to my wish list.

Fiction
MAN GONE DOWN By Michael Thomas.
OUT STEALING HORSES By Per Petterson.
THE SAVAGE DETECTIVES By Roberto Bolaño.
THEN WE CAME TO THE END By Joshua Ferris.
TREE OF SMOKE By Denis Johnson.

Nonfiction
IMPERIAL LIFE IN THE EMERALD CITY: Inside Iraq's Green Zone By Rajiv Chandrasekaran.
LITTLE HEATHENS: Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression. By Mildred Armstrong Kalish.
THE NINE: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court By Jeffrey Toobin.
THE ORDEAL OF ELIZABETH MARSH: A Woman in World History By Linda Colley.
THE REST IS NOISE: Listening to the Twentieth Century By Alex Ross.

Book Review: A Stranger on Earth

A Stranger on Earth: The Life and Work of Anna Kavan by Jeremy Reed

Let me say first that Jeremy Reed annoys me. Every time I turn around it seems he's written another book on a subject in which I am interested. From my desk I see two of his books on my shelves (Chasing Black Rainbows about Antonin Artaud and Delirium about Rimbaud), so I'm familiar with his work. But when I saw that he'd put out a book about Anna Kavan, someone hose work is relatively obscure, about whom there hadn't been a single book written when I first discovered her, I was annoyed. I've read David Callard's biography The Case of Anna Kavan, and she remained a mystery. I'd always imagined myself going down to the McFarlin Library at the University of Tulsa and pouring over her papers and fashioning my own biography of Anna Kavan. But then there's Jeremy Reed.

Reed is not an objective biographer, and that's okay with me. He clearly is impressed with Kavan's work and for someone who praises her work ever chance I get, I was happy to see someone else fawn over her phrases and to be enamoured with her character. He doesn't show her, though, from only one side. Reed, in fact, spends a fair amount of time on her problems with social interaction. She clearly had difficulty with people, though at times her circle of friends was quite large. Reed also charts the course that her writing took over the years, from writing, as Helen Ferguson, plain and not altogether really imaginative books, to the split with her former self, renaming herself Anna Kavan after one of her characters, and writing extremely imaginative, sometimes nightmarish, sometimes fantastical, always fantastic fiction. And he places it all within her biography, even getting into the difficulties she had at times with publishers and editors.

It is impossible to talk very long about Kavan without mentioning her life-long heroin habit. I'll call it habit over addiction because by all accounts she was in control over her use. Reed reasons her drug use as a mechanism for facing the world, for moderating her emotion. This is understandable. Self-medication is a method of coping for many creative types. It is this drug use that leads to her cult attraction. And one can easily wonder whether the drug is responsible for what is other worldly in her writing. I see her drug use as more than a tool for controlling her emotions, for keeping herself and the world in check. It was a method of escape. Just like the fast cars in her stories "Out and Away" and "Fog," it was a way of getting away, of escaping the real world. And so I think some of her writing came directly out of heroin use, which of course comes from an infinitely perceptive and creative personality.

Jeremy Reed seems extremely proud of himself. He spends time expounding on the drugs, clothes and music of sixties London with a time that says "I know all of this and more. And you don't." And much of these sorts of details are irrelevant to Kavan, being as she was cut off from the world outside her door. Reed also spends too much time focused on the fact that most of the men who Kavan kept as friends were homosexuals. While it is understandable that she might be drawn to these sorts of friendships out of safety, to avoid the men of the past, as a reader I'm not much interested in the sexuality, nor the style of dress, of her companions.

A cause for greater concern in this text, greater than my own dislike for Reed's focus at times, is his lifting from the work of others. As noted by Jennifer Sturm, credited in the acknowledgments of this biography and author of the introduction to Kavan's Guilty, in the comments of this blog, Reed appears to have pulled some things nearly verbatim from Sturm's work. In her essay, Anna Kavan Meets a New Zealand Writer on his Special Day, published in Kōtare, Sturm writes:

The couple forged a relationship in England in 1939, when Hamilton’s sister Margery began an affair with Kavan’s husband, Stuart Edmonds.

Reed writes:

In 1939 Anna met Ian Hamilton, with whom she was to travel extensively in the early war years, when Hamilton's sister Margery began an affair with Stuart Edmonds.

Sturm writes:

Hamilton was an expatriate Englishman who had travelled back to his homeland hoping to achieve some success with his anti-war three-act play Falls The Shadow , prophetically written in 1936....

Reed writes:

The conscientious objector Hamilton was an English expatriate who had returned to his birthplace from New Zealand hoping to score a hit with his anti-war three-act play Falls The Shadow, a work he had written in 1936....

Bothersome. I have to wonder if Reed didn't approach other sources in the same fashion.

As bothersome and annoying this biography was at times, I found it both illuminating and inspiring. I learned much that was not previously available about Kavan and her life, including details of her writing process, and it makes me want to re-read all of her work. Maybe next year.

What I'm Thankful For

National Book Award winners on NPR

NPR has a nice podcast of readings from the winners of the National Book Award. Damn that Denis Johnson book sounds good.

Also on NPR, Remembering the Turbulent Life of a 'Gonzo' Writer, interviews about Hunter S. Thompson.

Denis Johnson wins National Book Award - Yahoo! News

Congrats to Denis Johnson and his new novel Tree of Smoke for winning the National Book Award. This one is on my wish list, despite how difficult the NY Review of Books made it sound. I know it's no Jesus' Son, but obviously there are some things to like about it.

'Tree of Smoke' wins National Book Award - Yahoo! News

R.I.P. Ira Levin

The world would be a different place without Rosemary's Baby. Of course some credit goes to Roman Polansky.

Novelist, playwright Ira Levin dead at 78: Yahoo! News

R.I.P. Norman Mailer

I swear I'll get around to The Naked and the Dead at some point.

Author Norman Mailer dies at 84: Guardian Unlimited

Book Review: Guilty

Guilty by Anna Kavan

The full manuscript of this novel was found among her papers in Tulsa, the library I'd been itching to get to from the moment I learned they were there. It is, though, not the best novel. I've read some of her work that didn't move me, but others are among the best books I've ever read. This one, though, is worse than unmoving. It is not fleshed out. It reads like a quick first draft. The first-person narration is distant, as if told from some far-off, removed location, long after the issues raised have been settled. While scenes are described in this way, we are never given that feeling of being there.

Maybe this impression comes from a bias. It is easy to believe that the pages put together to form this new "found" novel are not pages that Kavan ever intended to be published. It is easy to assume that these were not finished pages, the manuscript not a completed whole. The novel's introduction, by Jennifer Sturm (whose has commented here previously) , does an excellent job as serving as a Kavan primer and properly placing this novel among her others. What I want to hear is a little history, though. Had this manuscript ever passed before the eyes of any editors? Anyone at all? Peter Owen, her publisher, was also a good friend. Do we really think she would have had trouble getting anything of which she was proud published? My suspicion was that this book was one of those bottom-drawer manuscripts, ones we think we'll get back to, edit, and revise into the masterpiece we intended it to be.

The novel does redeem itself, though. Despite, the fact that Kavan relies here on a fever for the narrator's mind to loosen, for things to become surreal and ominous, the effect at times is in full force, the images precise and moving. The ending is saved from the downward spiral we see in much of Kavan's work, and realizations reached are realistic and believable. Some might say that a sort of tacked-on revelation happens here, but what I read was heart-felt.

I would hate, despite what I've said here, for this review to turn readers away from Anna Kavan. Her work is mostly brilliant. Even her earlier "county novels" display enough insight and terror to make them worthwhile. Her collections Asylum Piece and Julia and the Bazooka are indispensable.

Movie Review: Into The Wild

Into The Wild

I had been holding off writing a review of this movie to give people enough time to see the limited release film before I colored anyone's view of the thing.

I usually like movies where the central character rejects society and ends up paying for it in some way with his life. But usually these people are artists, writers, musicians. I expected to like the movie despite the flaws in Krakauer's book. I was looking forward to seeing McCandless's story brought to life, McCandless given real and convincing characterization, but like the New Yorker explains, "Penn shoots the movie, however, in a facile, commercially lyrical style—he can’t stop swirling around mountaintops, as if he were selling S.U.V.s."

And these sorts of movies tend to be pretty melodramatic (think The Doors) and maybe incidentally campy. When I was younger and self destructive myself, I probably would have liked Into The Wild never the less. Director Sean Penn fails to see what was tragic in this story, emphasizing instead the beautiful and scenic. It is the innocence and naivete that makes McCandless's story compelling. But as the New Yorker said, "McCandless didn’t experience enough of life for his rejection of it to carry much weight, and Penn can’t see the egocentricity in a revolt that was as naïve as it was grandly self-destructive."

Into The Wild is worth seeing, and it makes you want to get out of doors, but as Krakauer's book failed, Penn's moving leaves us feeling a little silly for even caring.

Tancredo Out...of Congress

It's rare that my Congressman, Tom Tancredo, ever does anything that fills my heart with joy, but after the Rockies lost the World Series Tom "Let's-bomb-Mecca" Tancredo announced that he will not seek reelection in Congress. It would be nice if he would give us his embarrassing Presidential bid as well, but Tommy's just not that smart.

Here's the news from the Washington Post, Tancredo Won't Seek New Term, and here's a site of a fellow constituent who has been keeping tabs on the man, Tancredo Watch.

Adios, Tom.

Update: Wonkette's take.

The five-term congressman represents a “solidly Republican” Denver suburb that kept electing him no matter what crazy gibberish he spouted, so Colorado’s 6th District will presumably elect another nut. Maybe the next one will be worried about space aliens.

“I would rather dig my friend Ray Carver out of the ground.”

The Real Carver: Expansive or Minimal - New York Times:

"Tess Gallagher, the widow of Raymond Carver, one of the most celebrated American short-story writers of the 20th century, is spearheading an effort to publish a volume of 17 original Carver stories whose highly edited versions were published in “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love,” his breakout 1981 book."

Again, we're looking at the role Gordon Lish played in the work in Raymond Carver and what Carver himself would have wanted. There's little doubt that Lish had a signifcant role in the so-called minimalism of Carver. One need only reference the other writers he edited to see the similarities. But does this mean that the Carver we know and love is not the "real" Carver. No. The core is Carver. The story is Carver. Even if the sentence level edits by Lish were significant. I've seen a copy somewhere of a manuscript page with Lish's edits all over it, and if I were the writer I'd be a little depressed about the changes.

As the article reveals, and we are reminded, Carver was far from pleased and tried to get definative versions of some of his stories released.

Carver’s later editor, Gary Fisketjon of Knopf, which holds the copyright to “What We Talk About,” is deeply opposed to the idea.

“I would rather dig my friend Ray Carver out of the ground,” he said. “I don’t understand what Tess’s interest in doing this is except to rewrite history. I am appalled by it.”

Carver, who died in 1988 at 50, had tried to set the record straight himself. He restored and republished five of the stories from “What We Talk About” in magazines or later collections. In “Where I’m Calling From,” a volume of new and selected stories that Mr. Fisketjon helped edit and that was published the year Carver died, three of the stories that had appeared in “What We Talk About” — “So Much Water So Close to Home,” “The Bath” (retitled “A Small, Good Thing”) and “Distance” — appeared in restored form. But Carver also included four other stories from “What We Talk About” in the versions edited by Mr. Lish.

As far as a new collection of earlier drafts, I'm all for it. Why not release different versions? How different is it from the idea of publishing Kerouac's original scroll version of On The Road? I would buy it, even though I own the originals. Frankly, I'm surprised Knopf wouldn't publish it, at least so that they would have some control over it. Putting it out by another publisher guarantees that it competes with Knopf's editions.

The whole Lish issue takes some fun out of reading Carver, but they are still brilliant stories.

Book Review: The Optimist's Daughter

The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty

I found the novel pleasingly simple, told linearly, from a single close third-person perspective, surrounding a single event, taking place over only a few days. It was reminiscent of Alice Munro, or even some Anna Kavan, with its aging, solitary female character. And these are writers whose work I enjoy very much.

There was also a timelessness here that made it difficult to pin down the era without rereading the details closely. The language is simple, the story is simple, even the drama within in muted.

Sometimes there are books you like for no particular reason, no single, obvious reason. This is one of those books.

The National Book Award Nominees

The National Book Foundation:

FICTION
Mischa Berlinski, Fieldwork
Lydia Davis, Varieties of Disturbance
Joshua Ferris, Then We Came to the End
Denis Johnson, Tree of Smoke
Jim Shepard, Like You’d Understand, Anyway

Some out there don't seem too impressed with this list, but I think there is some admirable work here. In fact, I bought a bargain copy of Ferris's book this week and it sits on my desk awaiting my attention.

Oh, and what about nonfiction?

NONFICTION
Edwidge Danticat, Brother, I’m Dying
Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything
Woody Holton, Unruly Americans and the Origins of the Constitution
Arnold Rampersad, Ralph Ellison: A Biography
Tim Weiner, Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA

Yes, you read that right: Hitch. Oh, lord.

Lessing wins Nobel Prize in Literature

Lessing wins Nobel Prize in Literature - Yahoo! News: "STOCKHOLM, Sweden - English writer Doris Lessing, who ended her formal schooling at age 13 and went on to write novels that explored relationships between the genders and races, won the 2007 Nobel Prize in literature on Thursday. "

I am still haunted by one short story I read by Doris Lessing where a young white girl meets an African king on the road and he moves out of the way for her to pass. I can't seem to find that story again, but it gave me a great respect for Doris Lessing. Congratulations.

Book Review: Into the Wild

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

With the release of the movie, I thought it worthwhile to read the book before the movie possibly ruined it for me. I have to say that I expected more from the book. Krakauer has a prominent name, the book did well, but I was less than impressed with the writing. It bore traces of padding, as if he was looking for filler to make the book longer. The book is filled with other, shorter narratives concerning other adventurers, including some of Krakauer's own experiences, but none of these seemed to address what more interesting to me, the character of Chris McCandless.

I don't know anyone who hasn't had that urge to skip it all and walk out on society. My own past is filled with those sorts of plans. I don't find McCandless unique in this. Where I find him most interesting is in his dealings with others. He seems to have had a profound effect on most of the people met. I know that in non-fiction the author is limited in how he could draw out these sorts of things. Krakauer left it mostly to direct quotes. That may be compelling but not explicit.

On the issue of McCandless's recklessness, I too am a little torn. I understand how the whole idea would rile Alaskans who understand the challenges and requirements of the wild. To shirk preparedness is to disrespect it. Or maybe he thought it was easy, when others knew how damn hard it was. I understand this, but I don't think there was any willful disrespect. I think he was a victim of his own idealism.

Krakauer's writing is sloppy and flawed. He needlessly repeats himself or steals phrases from his own quotes. And then other times he tries out some more creative sentences using words that are striking and out of place. The book doesn't even seem to progress in any cohesive way. The only thing that keeps you reaching is to find out the circumstance of McCandless's death.

As much as I disliked the book, I am looking forward to the movie, if only for a real dramatization of McCandless's story.

Book Review: Birds of America

Birds of America by Lorrie Moore

Sometimes you know a writer's name, you know you've heard good things about them, but you don't know what you've ever read anything by them. This was the case for me with Lorrie Moore. So, when I stumbled across this title in a used book store, I figured it was time.

As I put down the book, though, I was not altogether impressed. First, why put the most depressing stories at the end? Because if they'd have come early on in the book, no one would make it through. And what a way to leave the reader. And what came before the final two stories was not all that original.

I love the modern short story, full of disjointed relationships, eclectic characters, sarcastic and sardonic, but without profundity nothing earnest is revealed. Not that the stories were bad, or not interesting even, but they just didn't stand out to me.