My Reading List From 2009

It has been some time since I made a posting here, one of the reasons being that I have been too busy reading! Nonetheless, what follows is a list of exactly what I read throughout 2009, and the perceptive reader will notice that outside of my favorites (Michael Connelly, James Lee Burke, Walter Mosley and Jonathon Kellerman) my reading has been eclectic, following no particular theme or interest. In the near future I hope to provide some capsule commentary on several of the titles.

Alex and Me – Irene Pepperberg (N.F.)
The Given Day – Dennis Lehane
Anansi Boys – Neil Gaiman
Leisureville – Andrew D. Blechman
Too Close to Home – Linwood Barclay
The Shadow of Reichenbach Falls – John R. King
Walking Through Walls – Philip Smith
After Sunset – Stephen King
Resurrection Men – Ian Rankin
Bones – Jonathan Kellerman
Diablerie – Walter Mosley
The Brass Verdict – Michael Connelly
Blonde Faith – Walter Mosley
Them – Nathan McCall
The Brief History of the Dead – Kevin Brockmeir
Be the Change – Lisa Endlich
Shakespeare – The World as Stage – Bill Bryson
Feelers – Brian Wiprud
Three Cups of Tea – Greg Mortenson and David Relin
Why Your World is About to Get a Whole Lot Smaller- Jeff Rubin
The Evil That Men Do – Dave White
The Way Home – George Pelecanos
Outliers – The Story of Success – Malcolm Gladwell
Relentless – Dean Koontz
Lush Life – Richard Price
Road Dogs – Elmore Leonard
A Fraction of the Whole – Steve Tolz
The Scarecrow – Michael Connelly
Chasing Smoke – Bill Cameron
Wake – Robert Sawyer
Body Copy – Michael Craven
American Fascists – The Christian Right and the War on America – Chris Hedges
Fear the Worst – Linwood Barclay
The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein – Peter Ackroyd
9 Dragons – Michael Connelly
Rain Gods – James Lee Burke
The Highest Tide – Jim Lynch
I Don’t Believe in Atheists – Chris Hedges
The English Major - Jim Harrison

Total Books Read for 2009: 39

My Reading List From 2009

It has been some time since I made a posting here, one of the reasons being that I have been too busy reading! Nonetheless, what follows is a list of exactly what I read throughout 2009, and the perceptive reader will notice that outside of my favorites (Michael Connelly, James Lee Burke, Walter Mosley and Jonathon Kellerman) my reading has been eclectic, following no [particular theme or interest. In the near future I hope to provide some capsule commentary of several of the titles.

Alex and Me – Irene Pepperberg (N.F.)

The Given Day – Dennis Lehane

Anansi Boys – Neil Gaiman

Leisureville – Andrew D. Blechman

Too Close to Home – Linwood Barclay

The Shadow of Reichenbach Falls – John R. King

Walking Through Walls – Philip Smith

After Sunset – Stephen King

Resurrection Men – Ian Rankin

Bones – Jonathan Kellerman

Diablerie – Walter Mosley

The Brass Verdict – Michael Connelly

Blonde Faith – Walter Mosley

Them – Nathan McCall

The Brief History of the Dead – Kevin Brockmeir

Be the Change – Lisa Endlich

Shakespeare – The World as Stage – Bill Bryson

Feelers – Brian Wiprud

Three Cups of Tea – Greg Mortenson and David Relin

Why Your World is About to Get a Whole Lot Smaller- Jeff Rubin

The Evil That Men Do – Dave White

The Way Home – George Pelecanos

Outliers – The Story of Success – Malcolm Gladwell

Relentless – Dean Koontz

Lush Life – Richard Price

Road Dogs – Elmore Leonard

A Fraction of the Whole – Steve Tolz

The Scarecrow – Michael Connelly

Chasing Smoke – Bill Cameron

Wake – Robert Sawyer

Body Copy – Michael Craven

American Fascists – The Christian Right and the War on America – Chris Hedges

Fear the Worst – Linwood Barclay

The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein – Peter Ackroyd

9 Dragons – Michael Connelly

Rain Gods – James Lee Burke

The Highest Tide – Jim Lynch

I Don’t Believe in Atheists – Chris Hedges

The English Major - Jim Harrison

Total Books Read for 2009: 39

Leisureville – Andrew D. Blechman

Macbeth: Act 3, Scene 2:

… Duncan is in his grave;
23 After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;
24 Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
25 Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
26 Can touch him further.

These words, uttered by Macbeth to his wife as he describes the hell that his life has become since his murder of Duncan, occurred to me as I read Andrew Blechman’s searing examination of age-segregated communities burgeoning in popularity in the United States. Is there anyone amongst us who has not pined, as Macbeth does in the above quote, for an existence free of the anxiety, disturbance and suffering that are inevitable components of life? Macbeth realizes the only way to realize such a utopian peace is through death; an increasing numbers of seniors, however, see it as achievable by removing themselves to retirement or age-segregated gated communities, virtually severing the once almost indissoluble ties of community and family in the process. Such is the promise of Leisureville, the wry title the author uses to describe his perception of life in such an environment. After reading the book, many readers may conclude that such communities are another form of what Macbeth longed for in his colloquy with his wife.

While always treating his subject with respect, after living for a month in such a community at the invitation of former neighbours who moved to “The Villages,” the foremost age-segregated community in central Florida, the author draws a portrait of a life that, from most people’s perspective, can only be described as vapid and meaningless. Although days upon endless days filled with swimming, golfing and drinking in a sheltered environment may seem alluring to many, one inevitably has to ask if this is any way for a responsible person to spend the rest of his or her life. Considering that many of the retirees have perhaps 30 or more years of life remaining, the answer has to be no.

Blechman makes a pretty strong case for community engagement and involvement throughout one’s life, not just up to retirement, arguing that inter-generational co-existence is what gives true meaning and vitality to communities. While acknowledging that North American society as a whole doesn’t do a particularly good job of either encouraging or looking after its retired people, he clearly doesn’t see secession as the answer.

In addition to the societal implications of seniors’ self-removal from the larger world, Blechman also examines the environmental and political implications of such movements. For example, owing to their mild climates, two of the most popular states for age-restricted communities are Florida and Arizona. At least up to the present, there have been very few restrictions placed on development, despite the fact that water is becoming increasing scarce in both states, with droughts occurring with disturbing regularity. The author discusses sinkholes happening in The Villages due to depletion of aquifers; as well, he makes regular reference to the bulldozing and flattening of land as The Villages continues its relentless development. Another consequence of this kind of lifestyle is the domination of very conservative politics, led by the developers who, with their vast resources, contribute significant sums to both the Republican Party and local politicos that welcome unrestricted development while at the same time largely ignoring and denigrating the needs of the larger community.

All of us need and deserve regular hiatuses from the hurly-burly of life. In my view, Andrew Blechman makes a compelling argument through Leisureville that none of us deserves a life-long commutation from it.

Alex and Me

Anyone who has ever owned and had a close relationship with a pet other than perhaps a turtle or a hamster will likely attest to the belief, much resisted by the majority of the scientific community, that animals do in fact have some capacity for thought. That has certainly been true of our last two pets, now deceased, a Newfoundland dog and a tabby cat. I remember when I would take Fred, our Newf, on long walks which would frequently see me running into people I knew and stopping for a chat. Fred, always the gentleman, would sit nicely beside me for about five minutes, but after the elapsed time, would invariably take his paw and nudge me on the thigh, saying, in effect, “Time to get a move on.” Similarly, our cat would stay out of our bedroom until he heard me getting up, at which point he would enter the room and meow at me to feed him. Despite the fact that I would react with pavlovian haste to his request, it was somehow never fast enough for him, and he would inevitably chastise me with a series of very acerbic meows as I made my way to the cupboard to get his food, as if swearing at me for not being fast enough.

No doubt, many will dismiss these two anecdotes as manifestations of nothing more than operant conditioning, but on an intuitive level I know they were much more. Which brings me to the subject of this post, a fascinating book by Irene Pepperberg called Alex and Me, the story of her 30-year relationship with an African Grey parrot named Alex. Although possessing a doctorate in chemistry, Pepperberg turned her lifelong fascination with birds into a career discovering the capacity for thought and true communication between parrot and human.

Hers is the story both of the struggle to get sufficient funding to pursue her studies as and the very close, loving relationship that developed over three decades with Alex, her subject and, in a very real sense, collaborator. The book is not meant to be a scientific explication of her methodology, although she provides sufficient information about her training techniques and her results to leave the reader with the belief that what she uncovered was not some unusual capacity for mimicry on the part of an unusually bright parrot, but rather significant indications that Alex was not only able to speak with meaning and purpose but also grasp abstract concepts such as numbers, differences and similarities between things, and language as a tool for influencing and manipulating others, all qualities that have been traditionally viewed as the exclusive domain of homo sapiens.

Rather than my recounting some Alex’s achievements here, I am providing a link to a segment done with Alan Alda on Scientific American Frontiers:
PBS - Scientific American Frontiers:Pet Tech:Watch Online

The reader can’t help but be amused and touched by the experiences that both parrot and human shared over the many years, and perhaps a little humbled in seeing that human beings are perhaps not quite as distinct a species as we have always believed.

What is America? A Short History of the New World Order – Ronald Wright

Like his last book, A Short History of Progress, author Ronald Wright has crafted an eminently readable and concise work that deserves to be read both widely and deeply. In his latest analysis, Wright looks at the history of America, from its earliest days as the domain of the aboriginal, to its current position as probably the most reviled country in the world.

Beginning with a short history of the Spanish subjugation of Mesoamerica (Mexico and the adjoining Maya region of Central America) and Greater Peru which powerfully sets the theme of conquest, the author quickly moves to the time of the English settling of what ultimately became the United States. Much of the history of the genocide and betrayal of the aboriginals living in what, for many, will seem a surprising amount of structure, government and civilization, is well-known to students of that period, but the information serves to provide the context for defining the American character as it has revealed itself over the past two hundred years.

Once the frontiers of America were closed, the U.S government looked abroad to expand its influence and will until we have the situation the world confronts today – a country that subscribes to the notions of exceptionalism and manifest destiny, beliefs that have made it guilty of a hubris worthy of Greek tragedy. Perhaps the best way to view the book is as an examination of a pattern of behaviour that, while hardly unique to the United States, has resulted in a sorry tale of lost potential.

While those who subscribe to the American mythology of benevolence betrayed will be deeply offended by this work, those who are able to rise above blind patriotic fervour will see the truth and validity of Wright’s observation which, as always, are backed by solid research and historical data. He ends the book by looking at one model of co-operation that suggests human beings can rise above their selfish and violent history to work together toward common goals. That model is the European Union which, as the author readily admits, is far from perfect but seems to be succeeding where past structures have failed. One needs only consider their progressive legislation on climate control or medical care for its citizenry to appreciate the accuracy of his observations.

In closing, it seems that all of the goodwill and excitement generated worldwide over the election of Barack Obama suggests that there is still a tremendous hunger in countless countries for the United States to succeed as a nation among nations; without question it still has much to contribute, and its tremendous power to influence the direction of world affairs, for both good and evil, is undeniable. But some important questions remain to be answered: Can the United States rise above the national character it has forged in history, and begin to realize its true potential? Will its citizens, even under inspirational political leadership, be willing to do the hard work and make the necessary sacrifices to achieve that potential?

Only time will answer those questions. I wish them well.

A Short History of Progress – Ronald Wright

Every so often I read a book that not only makes me think deeply but also causes me to feel a measure of despair about the human condition. Ronald Wright’s A Short History of Progress is such a book.

Exploring our short 10,000-year-old human civilization, Wright develops a portrait that can hardly be considered flattering. Examining four previous societies, Sumer, Easter Island, the Maya and Rome, the author shows the shortsightedness of each that ultimately led to their downfall. In spending all of their ‘natural capital’ (the natural resources available to them), with little thought to the future, each was ultimately felled by what Wright calls ‘progress traps’ that resulted in environmental degradation, starvation, and collapse. Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of their collective demise is the fact that each of them became aware, long before conditions became irreversible, of where they were headed and yet persisted in their respective behaviours! Might this sound at least remotely familiar to the modern reader?

The power of this very accessible book lies in its demonstrated historical correspondence to contemporary life, and the message is clear: if we continue in the pattern so regularly repeated throughout our human history, we will soon be at a point where not just one or two societies collapse, but rather our entire way of life on earth. A few years ago it would have been easy to dismiss such a thesis as alarmist and overblown, but given what we now know about greenhouse gases, pollution and climate change, we would be as foolish as our ancestors were to adopt such an attitude. But of course, isn’t that precisely what so many of us and our leaders continue to do?

I suspect that one of our fundamental flaws as human beings is to confuse our technological achievements with wisdom, leading us to the belief that we are highly evolved beings when, in fact as Wright so amply demonstrates, our short history of progress shows us to be a shortsighted species, having thus far left an almost unbroken record of environmental exploitation and degradation.

The question that remains to be answered is, “Are we capable of truly learning anything from our sordid past?” Stay tuned to find out the answer.

Before I Wake – Robert J. Wiersema

In many ways I am a conservative reader, tending to stay with authors I know will provide me with a satisfying story. Lately, however, I have been branching out with unfamiliar writers, mainly because there is little new with my favorite ones. The experience is proving to be worthwhile.

The latest book I read, Before I Wake, by Robert Wiersma, reminds me in some ways of the very first book I read many years ago by the late Brian Moore, called Cold Heaven, in that both deal with themes of family relationships, miracles, and the challenges inherent in accepting personal responsibility. Before I Wake begins with one of the worst things a parent can imagine, the prospect of losing one’s child. In this case, Sherry Barrett, the three year old daughter of Karen and Simon, is struck down by a truck as she is crossing the street with her mother. In a coma and with no hope of recovery, her parents make the incredibly hard decision to take her off life support. However, the unexpected begins when she is disconnected from the respirator – she continues to breathe.

Wiersma then takes us to the Barrett home several months later, where Sherry, still comatose, is being taken care of by her mother Karen and a nurse, Ruth. By this time, Simon is no longer in the home, having moved out to be with a fellow lawyer, the much younger Mary. The plot then takes an unusual turn as Ruth reveals to her sister, dying of cancer, that she is no longer afflicted with her crippling arthritis. She attributes her cure to Sherry, and invites her sister to meet her. As a result of this meeting, a cascade of events develops, ultimately threatening the safety, and even the lives, of the Barrett family.

All of the events described take place very early in the novel, after which we are introduced to a fascinating array of characters: the rather sinister Father Peter, his acolyte Leo, the enigmatic Tim, and the contrite hit and run driver Henry. Each has an important role to play in the drama that unfolds.

As far as I know, this is the first novel by Robert Wiersema; his facility with plot, character and narrative structure all bode very well for building a loyal readership in the years to come. He certainly has me convinced of his talent.

Restless – William Boyd

Although never a fan of the espionage genre, with the exception of the Ian Fleming Bond stories when I was a boy, I made a recent exception upon the enthusiastic recommendation of a friend and fellow avid reader. I’m glad I did.

The book, entitled Restless, by William Boyd, is an engrossing tale that takes place in two times, 1976 and the Second World War, and has two strong female protagonists, Sally Gilmartin, originally Eva Delectskaya, and her daughter Ruth. Eva’s story begins in Paris in 1939, not long after the murder of her brother Kolia. She is approached by a man named Luca Romer, for whom Kolia had worked, and is quickly recruited into the British Secret Service. Thus begins her life as a spy.

Meanwhile, in 1976, Eva’s daughter Ruth is a single mother of a five year old when she notices her mother acting strangely, insisting that she is being watched. Over a period of time she hands over the autobiography of her life in espionage, for reasons that become completely apparently only very late in the novel. It is a fascinating story that she gives to Ruth, a life of danger, betrayal, and renewal.

Eva’s activities ostensibly revolve around the British efforts to draw the United States into the Second World War. Through the front of a news agency, Eva and her colleagues specialize in writing and planting spurious stories designed to exaggerate the threat of Nazi penetration into the continental U.S., the goal being to produce a sense of danger sufficient to make the Americans believe that entering the war is in their best self-interests. However, as seems inevitable in the world of espionage, all is not always as it seems, and the reader can look forward to some intriguing twists.

Readers will find themselves drawn into the lives of both mother and daughter, both independent, strong-willed women, and fans of the spy genre will experience sufficient plot surprises to appeal to their sense of historical adventure as well.

All in all, a very compelling novel!

Some Quick Picks

While some time has passed since I last wrote on this blog, my reading has been as active and varied as ever; while some of the books have had some interesting elements, but not sufficiently compelling to warrant recommendation, other authors have proven to be reliable purveyors of their particular genre. Following are some ‘quick picks’, accompanied by some very brief comments for each:

Saving Fish From Drowning – by Amy Tan

Using the persona of a ghost as her narrator, Amy Tan does her usual magnificent job in offering acute observations of the clash of cultures, this time by having a group of Americans of various backgrounds taking a tour of Myamar, formerly Burma. Amidst much wry humor, Tan is also able to explore some very serious themes, not the least of which is the frequently misguided notion of Westerners that they can solve the problems of people about whom they know nothing. Unsparing in her examination of the brutal oppression of the military regime currently running the country, the author achieves a remarkable result in this novel: entertainment and edification.

The Accidental Time Machine – by Joe Haldeman

This quirky novel can perhaps best be described as science fiction for those who don’t normally read the genre. As the title suggests, the plot revolves around an accidental invention of a time machine in the form of a calibrator; this machine transports itself and anything/one connected to it into the future in exponential jumps in both time and place, affording the author the opportunity, in the vein of H.G. Wells’ classic, to offer social commentary on a myriad of human foibles. Well worth the read!

Obsession – by Jonathan Kellerman

Every novel written by this psychologist over the years has proven to be satisfying. Part detective, part mystery, part psychological thriller, Kellerman’s latest revolves around the provocative deathbed statement of the mother of one of his former patients, in which she seems to confess a murder to her daughter. While no one who knew the competent, highly regarded and compassionate mother and nurse believes there is any credibility to this, her enigmatic statement sets of a series of events and twists that provide the kind of challenges the author’s readers have come to expect over the years.

Born Standing Up – Steve Martin

Anyone of a certain age who, over the years, has enjoyed the somewhat skewed humour of Steve Martin, comedian, writer, actor and filmmaker, will find real pleasure in reading this gentle and gracious memoir of his development as a stand-up comic. From his early days performing at the Bird Cage Theatre housed at Knott’s Berry Farm, to his writing for the Smothers Brothers, to his appearances on the Tonight Show and Saturday Night Live, through to the end of his stand-up performances in front of tens of thousands of people, Martin provides both wit and insight as he explains what it means to be a comedian. Anyone looking for lurid details of his personal life will be disappointed. An intensely private man, Martin provides only the personal information necessary to understand the factors that contributed to the development of his career. All in all, a classy memoir.

Drama City - George Pelecanos

At one point in this gritty novel, someone says, “They used to call this Dodge City. Better name would be Drama City.” The city being referred to is Washington, D.C., but it is not the one we are most familiar with, the seat of U.S political power, but rather a much more hard-edged community encompassing both comedy and tragedy, just as we see depicted in the masks of drama. It is the world of the street, the drug dealer, the addict, and those who are trying to leave that world behind.

Lorenzo Brown, the novel’s protagonist, is one of the latter. A black former drug dealer now on parole, he is trying to adhere to the straight life through his job as “a dog police.” Working for the Humane Society, he and his white partner, Mark, have the responsibility of confronting a wide range of people, some criminal, some just addicted, lazy, helpless or irresponsible, in order to ensure the proper treatment of the animals under their care. Lorenzo, the more realistic of the two, has to frequently remind Mark that there are some dogs that cannot be rehabilitated or made adoptable, so scarred are they from the abuse experienced in their lives. These dogs, few in number, become a metaphor for both the limitations and the possibilities of human change.

Rachel Lopez is Lorenzo’s troubled parole officer. By day her tough but compassionate nature serves her well in the demands of work, but by night she is a troubled woman who abuses alcohol and gets into a variety of risky sexual situations, all the time deluding herself that she is in control of her life.

The lives of these struggling people invariably intersect with the world of the drug dealer. Two groups, led by Nigel Johnson and Deacon Taylor, control the streets of their respective turfs in Drama City, each seemingly satisfied with their domains and their agreement not to encroach upon the other’s jurisdiction. However, an almost innocent misunderstanding by one of Johnson’s men over who has rights to a specific corner leads to a series of events that threaten both the rehabilitation of Lorenzo Brown, a former acolyte of Johnson, and the very life of Rachel Lopez.

Pelecanos has fashioned an involving story here. Although his characterization is not as thorough as some of the writers of this genre, he provides sufficient information to involve the reader in Brown’s life to the point where we care about his fate, admiring his efforts at rehabilitation, and concerned about the influences that threaten it.

I don’t think he is as successful with Rachel Lopez. While he provides reasons for her behaviour, the loss of both of her parents and a wild streak observed by her father when she was young, neither seemed especially credible to me. Perhaps had the author spent a little more time with her development, he would have succeeded in creating a three-dimensional character.

In terms of the main drug dealers, Nigel Johnson and Deacon Taylor, Pelacanos invests sufficient humanity in the former by showing that he cares about his mother, as well as his friend and former employee Lorenzo. He does not want the latter to fall back into the criminal life. One senses that had circumstances been different, he might have developed into a productive member of society. Deacon Taylor has no such humanity.

George Pelecanos accomplishes a great deal in his novel. His talent for writing street dialogue lends a verisimilitude to his work that lesser writers are unable to achieve. As well, in the commonplace depictions of the circumstances and behaviour of people existing on the periphery of society, he effectively conveys the cruel reality of the lives of those who, either by social conditioning, fate, economics, or just plain bad luck, have very little chance to break out of the despair of their existences.

Harbingers – F. Paul Wilson

Although it may seem like a low-brow taste, I readily admit to a lifelong affection for well-written horror stories. For many years a fan of Stephen King’s work (although his last few outings have been somewhat disappointing), I also very much enjoy the novels of F. Paul Wilson, a New Jersey doctor who happens to write riveting tales that frequently venture into the other-worldly. Especially gripping is his ‘Repairman Jack” series, revolving as they do around a loner who exists, as he puts it, ‘off the grid,’ a fact that allows him a measure of freedom denied most people.

As his name suggests, Jack makes his living by taking care of other people’s intractable, seemingly irresolvable problems. Because he exists in a kind of netherworld of anonymity, he can eschew conventional approaches and draw upon his unique talents and resources in order to offer remediation to desperate clients. But an interesting evolution has taken place over the course of this series. The formerly solitary Jack has made an emotional connection with a woman and her daughter so deep that in the novel Harbingers, he is ready to ‘go legit’ by adopting an identity that will ultimately make him a citizen who can marry the woman he loves, adopt her child, and be a real father to their unborn child. However, fate has other plans for him.

Without going into too much revealing detail, one of the most compelling and interesting aspects of this series is the way Wilson has connected it to another, called the Adversary Cycle, which began with a novel called The Keep. The latter was an introduction to a cosmology in which two forces, The Ally and The Otherness, vie for control and possession of the earth. The Ally, not to be mistaken for God, has an almost capricious, dispassionate interest in our world while The Otherness, represented on earth by The Adversary, feeds upon human misery and hopelessness, doing everything possible to promote these negative emotions and thereby grow stronger.

It has become apparent in the past several Repairman novels that Jack is somehow a crucial player in this cosmic battle. Exactly what that role is, and the shocking measures used by The Ally to recruit Jack, are revealed in Harbingers. To say more would ruin the pleasure of discovery for the reader. Let’s just say that to cross Jack, even on a cosmic level, is not a wise thing to do.

If you have never read any of the Repairman Jack novels, I strongly suggest that you enjoy them in chronological order, as each novel is related. A complete bibliography can be found at www.repairmanjack.com. May you derive the same pleasure I have with this series.

Boomsday- by Christopher Buckley

Any worthwhile satire is an attempt to point out the shortcomings of humanity through humour and wit, usually with a measure of exaggeration. The ultimate goal is to inspire change. I have always felt that writing a satire of American politics would be a very difficult undertaking, simply because the world of American politics, even without any literary embellishments, is an absurd one. Christopher Buckley’s latest novel, Boomsday, confirmed this for me.

The plot revolves around Cassandra Devine, (aka Cassie Cochrane), a public relations executive and inveterate blogger who, in her latter persona, tries to effect change by challenging her generation of thirty-somethings. Despite her establishment job, which essentially boils down to defending the indefensible through language and optics, she rebels against that establishment by urging her peers to rise up against the boomers who, as they retire, will bankrupt her generation through their social security provisions. Her frustration over the government’s failure to address the issue leads her to make a ‘modest proposal’, in the Jonathan Swift tradition, that Boomers be offered financial incentives in order to commit suicide by age 65, thereby sparing her generation the overwhelming costs of supporting them in their dotage. Euphemistically labeled ‘transitioning,’ this mass suicide would carry with it financial incentives to be enjoyed during the life of the suicide and his/her heirs.

Of course, this proposal is met with predictable outrage. That is, until Senator Randy Jepperson, ‘from the great state of Massachusetts,’ and a friend of Cassandra, decides to use it for his advantage, both raising his national profile in the process and giving the concept political legitimacy. His actions bring out some powerful enemies, including the foul-mouthed President Peacham, his amoral (is there any other kind?) political adviser Bucky Trimble, Cassie’s estranged father, Frank Cochrane, and a Jerry Falwell type of religious figure, Gideon Payne, who many believe killed his mother by driving her off of a cliff.

While the book is undeniably humorous in many ways, whether it is an effective satire is an altogether different consideration for the reason announced at the beginning of this review. We are perhaps too familiar with the self-serving nature of American politics, marked as it is by greed, lust for power, amorality and expediency to derive any real benefit from a book that seeks to satirize these things. In a world where a Karl Rove can retire, unscathed, from his position, where a Vice President can shoot a man in the face and then have that man apologize for the trouble he caused Mr. Cheney, and where a President refuses to extend healthcare for children while spending billions per annum on a futile war, is there really anything more that the world of satirical fiction can achieve?

The Tin Roof Blowdown – James Lee Burke

The overwhelmingly melancholy tone of James Lee Burke’s latest novel, The Tin Roof Blowdown, seems especially apt given both its subject matter, the destruction of New Orleans, and the late middle age of his protagonist, Dave Robicheaux. Set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, a natural phenomenon that served to reveal government indifference to the plight of the poor, the selfishness, brutality and callousness of the citizenry, and the noblest responses humanity is capable of, the novel explores the themes typical of Burke’s works: greed, depravity, violence, and the always tantalizing possibility of redemption.

Burke is at his narrative best, telling a story that begins with a seemingly routine looting of a flood-ravaged home by four black men, Bertrand and Eddy Melanchon, their cousin Andre Rochon, and Rochon’s nephew, Kevin. However, owing to both the ownership of the house and what has been stolen, as well as a sudden explosion of violence, the crime turns out to be anything but routine, and has far-reaching consequences for all of the story’s principals: an insurance adjuster, Otis Baylor, whose daughter Thelma previously suffered a traumatizing assault; the wife of the adjuster, Melanie; Dave’s longtime friend Clete Purcell as well as Dave and his family – wife Molly and daughter Alafair.

The usual masterful elements of Burke’s plot and characterization are present in this engrossing tale, but there is also something more: the pervasive imagery of death and mortality. There is, for all intents and purposes, the death of New Orleans, the great city which holds the key to much of Dave’s past and identity. As well, in addition to graphic depictions of violence and death, there is a new element: a distinct sense of Dave’s mortality. Throughout the entire series of Robicheaux novels, readers have always understood the precariousness of his existence arising from the war between his self-destructive tendencies and his nobler impulses, as well as the violent world he inhabits as a law-enforcement officer. This time, however, there are more overt musings on time winding down. Consider the following passage, as Clete tells Dave about a dream he had:

I was walking in a woods and I could smell fall in the air. There were leaves and mushrooms all over the ground, and air vines were hanging from the trees. When I came out of the woods, you were standing on the edge of a stream with a suitcase by your foot, like you were about to go on a trip. You said, ‘You walked over a grave, Clete. Didn’t you see it?’ Then you waded into the water.

The connotation of his dream made something drop in my chest, like a stone tumbling down a wall.

‘What do you think it means?’ he said.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Dreams are just dreams.’

Throughout his entire writing career, James Lee Burke has required that his readers confront the realities of life, both bad and good. Acknowledging the finitude of life is just one more of those realities, but one cannot help but wonder if the author is also telling us about his plans for the literary fate of his aging protagonist, Dave Robicheaux.

The Overlook – Michael Connelly

Although appreciably shorter than previous installments, Michael Connelly’s latest Harry Bosch novel makes for the usual compelling reading. Originally published as a sixteen-part serial for the New York Times Magazine, and then expanded for publication, The Overlook begins routinely enough, with the murder of Dr. Stanley Kent, a medical physicist with access to cesium, used in both cancer treatment and as a key radioactive component of the so-called “dirty bomb.” Followup investigation finds Kent’s wife, Alicia, naked and hog-tied on the matrimonial bed, and what she ultimately reveals about her captivity sends the FBI’s Homeland Security Unit into immediate action, thereby bringing about Harry’s reunion with his old love interest, Rachel Walling.

The plot contains the twists and turns one expects from Michael Connelly, with a resolution that quite frankly, I did not anticipate, despite some cleverly planted clues. But as always, the real pleasure for me is the characterization of Harry Bosch. Although he is getting older (in this novel he is 56), his instincts continue to serve him well. It is these instincts that bring him into a seemingly perennial opposition to his superiors, but this time out his rebellion takes a slightly less conspicuous form; perhaps he has learned that outright defiance has costs he is no longer willing to bear. Another interesting development is the fact that he has a new, much younger partner, Ignacio Ferras, who, as the novel progresses, becomes increasing nervous about his prospects for career longevity owing to Harry’s unorthodox practices, and at one point declares that their partnership is not working. Needless to say, he changes his opinion by the end of the novel.

The Overlook works effectively on the fears of terrorism that began with the 9/11 attacks, but interestingly enough, while all other law enforcement figures are busy trying to track down the missing cesium, Harry remains true to his calling and to his vision of what it means to be a homicide detective. His credo is a simple one: the investigator has to speak for those who no longer can, and this pursuit of justice in apprehending those responsible for Stanley Kent’s murder never becomes secondary to concerns about terrorist attacks.

Fans of Michael Connelly will not be disappointed in this latest episode in Harry’s life, although they may well lament the fact that their reading pleasure is limited to only 225 pages this time out.

Water for Elephants – Sara Gruen

Several years ago, my neighbor lent me a copy of a book called Angela’s Ashes. At the time, had someone asked me if I was interested in reading an Irish memoir about growing up in dire poverty, I probably would have said no. Yet that book turned out to be a richly rewarding reading experience.

Something similar happened to me recently when my brother-in-law recommended a novel called Water for Elephants. Without giving any details, he said it was one of the best books he had read in a long time. When it arrived after a lengthy hold period at the library, I was frankly disappointed to learn that it is a story revolving around circus life during the Depression. Neither the subject matter nor the era exercises any particular fascination for me. However, my disappointment soon turned into enthusiasm after just a few minutes of reading.

The story is told from the perspective of Jacob Jankowski, a 90 or 93 year-old (he isn’t sure which) living out his days in a nursing home. Despite an extended family which includes children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, each of whom take turns visiting him on a weekly basis, Jacob feels alone in the world, especially since the death of his wife. He therefore spends much of his time reminiscing about the past, especially the period during which he worked with the circus.

After a personal tragedy sees him leaving university before completing the final exam for his veterinary degree, the young Jacob suddenly finds himself in the employ of a circus billing itself as “BENZINI BROS MOST SPECTACULAR SHOW ON EARTH.” Here he works as both a veterinary and general helper.

As the story progresses, we learn that lurking beneath the public merriment of ‘the big top,’ some dark secrets abide. There is the ringmaster August, a man convivial and generous one moment, a cruel animal the next. There is his hapless wife Marlena who, at the age of 17, wed the ‘good ‘August four years earlier after a very short courtship, only to discover his other side almost immediately after the wedding. Disowned by her family, she sees no way out of her situation. Exercising great power over everyone’s life is the proprietor of Benzini Brothers, Uncle Al, whose avuncular mien hides some shocking truths. And then there is Jacob, whose growing attraction to Marlena threatens the stability of the façade under which the circus operates

Through the practice of scavenging failed circuses, Benzini Bros secures something it has long coveted, something all of the great circuses have: an elephant. Almost human in her presentation, this pachyderm named Rosie emerges not as a dumb, untrainable creature her handlers initially conclude after acquisition, but rather a very intelligent soul that understands Polish, a language Jacob is quite conversant with. Due to the relationship that develops between Rosie and August, Marlena, and Jacob, the former acts as a foil for the reader to see both the best and the worst of human nature through these characters.

Another aspect of interest is the novel’s depiction of the social hierarchy of circus life. For example, performers and ‘workers’ never eat together. When pay is in short supply, the performers are paid, but not the workers. The true expendability of the latter is reflected in the horrifying secret practice of ‘redlighting’ troublesome employees.

Water for Elephants is a richly textured novel, vividly recreating a time and place most of us have little knowledge of. And despite its improbable ending, this trip to the circus is well worth the price of admission.

The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini

For many of us, Afghanistan is a far off land whose exact location we would be hard-pressed to readily locate on a map. What do we think we know about the people? Are they primitive cave-dwellers, warlords, and religious extremists? Is their country a lost cause?

Author Khaled Hosseini does much to dispel many news-fuelled stereotypes in his first novel, The Kite Runner. An engrossing and moving story of betrayal, guilt, and redemption, the novel offers us a very human portrayal of people caught in the paradoxes of human existence – the desire to do good undercut by moral weakness, jealousy, and hypocrisy. The story is written from the perspective of Amir, the son of a wealthy Kabul merchant who, for reasons that become clear only late in the novel, treats his servants, Ali and Hazzan, members of the despised Hazaras, as family. Amir and Hazzan, about the same age, grow up together as friends. That friendship, however, is secretly betrayed when Amir fails to come to the aid of Hassan during a brutal assault. Although no one, including the ever-faithful Hasaan knows the truth, Amir is haunted by what he considers his cowardice. Every time he sees his friend he is reminded of what he failed to do and so he compounds his guilt by engineering the ouster of Hassan and his father Ali, never to see them again.

The second part of the novel, set in the United States after Amir and his father have fled the war-torn country of their birth, sees the pair establishing a new, but greatly humbled life, in Northern California. Eventually, Amir marries into a family of Afghan expatriates, and life seems good as he becomes a successful novelist. Then a call he receives one day from an old friend of his father, with the message, “There is a way to be good again,” sends him to Pakistan and then back to Afghanistan, where he risks his life to redeem himself.

The Kite Runner is a powerful narrative that leaves the reader feeling uplifted upon completion. Although in my view there is perhaps one pivotal aspect of the plot that relies too much on coincidence, it is a book that gives us access into the lives of people most of us have little knowledge of, and helps us appreciate the universality of the human condition. It merits the acclaim it has received.

Jesus Out to Sea – James Lee Burke

Even those not especially fond of the short story genre will find much to savor in this collection of short stories by well-known author James Lee Burke. Many will be familiar with the dark themes that emerge in his novels, especially the Dave Robicheaux series, and they are certainly much in evidence in these stories, almost all set in the past of over 50 years ago, except for the last one, entitled Jesus Out to Sea.

Each of the stories, like so much of Burke’s other writing, carries with them the duality of human nature. We sense that sudden and brutal violence is never far from the surface of our souls, yet at the same time, we are reminded that the possibility of redemption is there as well. This duality is especially powerful in A Season of Regret, which begins with a retired professor simply trying to protect his property rights, progresses through an act of defending a seemingly defenseless woman, and ends in a violent outcome not likely to be anticipated by the reader; this outcome , though not directly involving the protagonist, is one he must take ultimate responsibility for.

Even in the short but brutal The Village, told from the perspective of an American operative, probably a CIA agent, there is just the slightest suggestion of redemptive
possibilities. Throughout most of this four page tale, the unnamed protagonist engages in a litany of excuses for the shedding of innocent blood. It is only at the end, while engaged in a brutal act to dispatch a troublesome Mennonite that he seems to acknowledge wrongdoing, by repeating her final words, You must change your way. If the reporting of these five words marks the beginning of that change, all may not be lost for the operative.

Probably the most moving, and certainly the most recent in terms of setting, is the last story, Jesus Out to Sea. Set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, through the eyewitness descriptions of the protagonist, the odor of failure permeates the narrative – not only the failure of government in its reaction to the disaster, but also the failure of the city of New Orleans, in its transition form a city of hope, camaraderie, and music to a repository of drugs, crime, and desperation. A story offering little of the hope evident in many of the previous tales, its central image of the remnant of a destroyed church, Jesus on a cross, floating away in the floodwaters, is an apt symbol in this chronicle of disillusionment.

For the reader who is not uncomfortable confronting the more unpleasant aspects of life, this collection, eleven in total, has much to offer.

Terrorist – John Updike

John Updike’s latest novel, Terrorist, offers a fascinating glimpse into the world of Islamic fundamentalism, but it is a story not without flaws. The novel’s protagonist, eighteen- year- old Ahmad Ashmawy Mulloy, is the son of an Irish-American mother and an Egyptian father who deserted the family many years before. A young man of high intelligence, he eschews further education after high school, despite the belated exhortations of Jack Levy, a Jewish high school guidance counselor who goes on to conduct a surreptitious relationship with Ahmad’s mother, Terry. At the urging of his imam, Ahmad takes a job delivering furniture for a Lebanese family. This marks the beginning of his being drawn into an explosive terrorist plot, the outcome of which may or may not be credible to the reader.

There is much to commend in this novel, particularly Updikes’s ability to portray a fundamentalist Muslim perspective on the world. In that portrayal whereby, for example, Ahmad expresses his disdain for the glue of the Western world, rampant consumerism, Updike is able to offer some trenchant truths to the reader about the kinds of lives we lead. Consider this masterful section of the book, when Ahmad remembers childhood shopping trips with his mother:

“He would go with his mother … into the vast spaces of hastily slapped up hangers in the ‘big box’ style, where packaged goods were stacked up to the exposed girders. On those trips, narrowly aimed at replacing a certain irreparable home appliance or some boys’ clothing his relentless growing demanded or, before Islam rendered him immune, a long-coveted electronic game obsolete within a season, the mother and son were besieged on all sides by attractive, ingenious things and could not afford… Devils, these many gaudy packages seemed to be, these towering racks of today’s flimsy fashion, these shelves of chip-power expressed in murderous cartoons prodding the masses to buy, to consume while the world still had resources to consume, to gorge at the trough before death closed greedy mouths forever. In all of this wooing of the needy into debt, death was the bottom line, the counter where the diminishing dollars clattered. Hurry, buy now, since the afterlife’s pure and plain joys are an empty fable.”

What a remarkable passage. In just a few words, Updike is able to offer a penetrating analysis and commentary on our consumer-obsessed mentality and the spiritual emptiness underlying it. At the same time, he allows us some understanding of Ahmad’s view of the society he has grown up in, providing some foundation for the choices he subsequently makes.

But it is the latter that also presents some problems. Ahmad’s perspective and choices are, for me, the source of the book’s flaws. Quite frankly, I found it very difficult to accept the credibility of his character. The portrayal of someone raised in American society, embracing Islam at the age of eleven, and consequently being the almost perfect ascetic did not ring true. Granted, Ahmad is a young man reared without a father by an ill-disciplined mother and is undoubtedly seeking both discipline and a father figure in Allah and the Yemeni imam, Shaikh Rashid, who represents him; yet that is not sufficient in my mind to warrant the depiction of a young man so disengaged from the world around him that he will so willingly dispense with it when presented with an opportunity for jihad. It is one thing to try to understand the mind of fundamentalists from a war-torn part of the world, raised in bitterness and penury and hatred of the West’s involvement in their affairs, willing to surrender their lives for what they believe to be a holy cause. It is quite another to imagine this same willingness in Updike’s Ahmad. As well, the plot’s resolution, for me, was also unconvincing for reasons I won’t articulate, so as not to reveal too much.

These caveats aside, I do recommend this book. The prose is elegant yet restrained, and Updike certainly intends the novel, not as a screed against the Muslim world, but rather as a window to our own.

Holding the Bully’s Coat – Linda McQuaig

Whether holding forth on the global economy, the excesses of capitalism, government deficits or the U.S. invasion of Iraq, author Linda McQuaig never disappoints. Her willingness to challenge conventional wisdom, especially that which is promulgated in the mainstream media, is always guaranteed to provide the reader with new insights and rich material to allow him or her to critically examine previously-held beliefs. Whether or not one agrees with the things she asserts, this is her greatest strength as a writer.

Her latest book, Holding the Bully’s Coat, reflects this strength as she examines in both an historical and contemporary context, Canada’s relationship with the United States. She argues that by aligning the country too closely with the policies of the United States, our political, military, and economic elites are sacrificing Canada’s international reputation (one she acknowledges as being exaggerated) and our role as a middle power, as well as jeopardizing our independence as a nation.

McQuaig deals with a number of issues that will have occurred to thinking Canadians over the years, including how our reputation for peacekeeping and compromise is being unjustly denigrated by the right wing; how the United States’ penchant for exceptionalism has essentially made it a law unto itself as it chooses to flout international law, the United Nations, the World Court, the Geneva Conventions’ prohibition on torture, and any other potential restriction on its dominance; the destabilizing effect of the U.S. opposition to nuclear disarmament; and its military’s refusal to abandon Cold War thinking, having simply substituted Islamic extremism for “the Red Menace.”

While the above description may make this book sound like an anti-American rant, it is not. Rather, McQuaig shows, through copious examples and careful analysis, how the citizens of both Canada and the United States are being ill-served by those in power who are quite willing to mislead and manipulate their respective peoples. Indeed, some of her harshest criticism is reserved for the Canadian government, both the current Conservative one and the previous Liberal one, and its often uncritical deference to American policies of very questionable merit.

The book will be offensive to those who think the motives and policies of the United States (and Canada, for that matter) should never be questioned. It will, however, be appreciated by those who want to go beyond media rhetoric and think deeply about issues of importance. It will also appeal to those humble enough never to have subscribed to the jingoistic notion, “My country, right or wrong,” a very dangerous mantra for the people of any free society to adopt.

Killing Johnny Fry- by Walter Mosley

While I admire the range of Walter Mosley’s imagination, given his forays not only into the mystery/detective genre via the Easy Rawlins series, but also his efforts in science fiction and explorations of the nature of good and evil (The Man in My Basement) I cannot say that I enjoyed his latest work which can’t be labeled anything other than pornographic. While I am no prude, I really didn’t think the novel’s graphic nature was justified by what I took to be its theme.

The novel revolves around Cordell Carmel, a middle-aged black New Yorker who one day discovers his long-time girlfriend having torrid sex in her apartment with a white man, Johnny Fry. Unseen, Cordell leaves, but the impact of this experience is life-changing. Not only does the formerly mild Cordell want to kill Johnny, but the realization of his own ignorance and inadequacies leads him into a series of sexual escapade with numerous women, to what ultimate end I really don’t know.

Perhaps this novel is meant to serve as some kind of allegory, because neither Cordell’s remarkable, but heretofore unknown sexual abilities, nor the conflict’s resolution were even remotely credible. After completing the book, one is left with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction, not unlike the way Cordell seems to feel despite his many conquests.

This disappointing experience notwithstanding, I will continue to look forward to anything written by Mr. Mosley. I admire his refusal to be defined by one genre; his willingness to take chances suggests someone who is still growing as a writer, someone who will probably continue to explore for the rest of his career. Could a reader ask for anything more?