Bookshop Bumblings

For whatever reason, I can never remember the title of this book so I keep referring to it as “The dismemberment Plan.” Couple that with my “Cesspool, Ca” mishaps and I’m just one of those senile old ladies who smears on the lipstick not realizing that her lips disappeared a decade ago.

This was Alan Warner’s second book and the third of his I’ve read. It was also my least favorite. Not that it was bad per se. It’s just the others were SO good. Of course, what novel will ever be able to hold a light to one about naughty Scottish school girls?

This one has really great weird characters, including Morvern Callar who you can’t help be smitten with and scared of all at once. The story is also told by a man who claims to work for the department of transportation as an aircrash investigator. He’s always looking for and piecing together the remnants of a decade old plane crash. He and Morvern befriend each other. I’d tell you more of the plot except for that was definitely the weak point of this novel. Like it had the fun characters with dry humor conversations, but it didn’t seem to be really going anywhere. Or at least no where that I particularly wanted to join them.

Recently, I was speaking to a fellow about our favorite indie bookstores and he mentioned one in Sebastopol, California. I’ve never heard of Sebastopol, and I can’t pronounce it so I just call it “Cess Pool”. Unfortunately, that’s where the fellow is from so I’d then start subsquent conversations up with a “So back in CessPool was there…”
He has since stopped talking to me.

Which is a shame because Sebastopol (which I still don’t know how to pronounce correctly) is mentioned approximately one gazillion times in this novel. Of course, as it was about the Australian outlaw and head of the Kelly Gang, Ned Kelly, it was Sebastopol Australia not California.

So, yeah it’s a book told from the point of view of Ned Kelly about his life and pursuits. It’s not my type of book at all but it was the first one I plucked from Ben’s friends bookshelves. He was working on computers there, and I was bored while waiting for him. With such a fast paced narrative style, and being short as it is you basically fly through at breakneck speed much like I was hoping Ben would do. I know they talk about wanting a man with a slow hand but FOR THE LOVE OF PETE it took FOUR HOURS already!

Oh, yeah, the book was OK.

I must have read a review on this title, because I had special ordered it. However, when it came in I couldn’t recall the why or wherefore. I started reading it, and was like OH! I love this kind of book – it must have a murder twist like Secret History or The Basic Eight. I didn’t want to ruin whatever the edge was so I refused to even read the back cover or the dust jacket flap. I just scooted to the edge of my seat and focused on the book.

The first half was enthralling. A great set up with character development so intense I felt part of the main character. Not a skeevy part like a soiled sock as I would in a boy teen novel, but a nice part like a swatch with one of those little protectors on it so the face doesn’t get scratched up.

Maybe it would have been different if I hadn’t been so sure there would be some grizzly fantastic twist. As it was though, the second half was flat.

There was no murdering of the obnoxious broke preppy boy who tortured the incest twins.
There was no bludgeoning with a croquet mallet and a sharp tongue.
There was NO NOTHING.

The horrible situation the main character had to get out of was one of embarassment in front of her compatriots, but it happened one week before she graduated. NOTHING. The only violence at all was the force with which I threw the book upon finishing it.

February usually takes my family’s lives by the ankles and shakes it heartily while cackling. When this February left us unscathed I did a little happy dance, and felt very much relieved.

It was a premature happy dance.

March left two of my siblings in the hospital, and the madness begun. Then, there was tax season and all sorts of other major distractions. Although I’ve been reading, I haven’t been the best about blogging summaries on here. I will begin again on here and I apologize for my absence.

When I come back, it shall be with a vengenace. Seriously, I’m reading a Japanese novel now where the panamour’s lips are described as a circle of leeches. It doesn’t get any more lyrical and beautiful than that, my friends.

Me: I have a problem with hari-kari Haruki Murakami.
Friend: Which is?
Me: Well, it’s the males in his stories. Like the main character in Norwegian Wood basically gets it on with every girl in the book, even the ones who are just minor characters.
Friend: Well, he is Japanese. We should just be thankful he’s not involved with cartoons.

Seeing as the main character’s father prophesies that his son will sleep with his mother and sister, I knew that Kafka On The Shore wasn’t going to be much different from the other Murakami’s novels I’ve read. There’s something about his stories that always keep me compelled to keep reading. Yet, I’m never very positive about the book once I’m finished. His characters are very real, but they’re not easy to relate to. So while I’m incredibly curious as to what they’re going to do next and what is going to happen, it never goes to the next level of actually caring about them personally. I was about to give an example from this work when I realized that the plot is so convoluted that there is no way that I could make my point without typing a chapter myself.

A couple of years ago I was out with a boy for the first time, and he was telling me about a short story written by Murakami that he had recently read. I responded with, “Oh, that reminds me of an episode of South Park!” Yes, aren’t I knocking them dead with my literary repotire? To add to the horror, it wasn’t just any episode of South Park, it was the one featuring the UNDERWEAR GNOMES!

At the time I thought, “Way to impress the fellows, Laura!” However, the more of Murakami’s work I read the more that mentioning underwear gnomes seems like a much better thing for me to bring up to his more loving readers than any of my real opinions. I’m much safer that way.

“There was a time when I liked a good riot. Put on some heavy old street clothes that could stand a bit of sidewalk-scraping, infect myself with something good and contagious, then go out and stamp on some cops. … It was GREAT being nine years old.” — Transmetropolitan: Back On The Street by Warren Ellis

Do graphic novels count? I haven’t made up my mind yet so I think I will say that these three I read count as one book. This was a good read so close after the death of Hunter S. Thompson since the main character, Spider Jerusalem, is so reminescent of him.

Breaking for a funny Thompson story: Hunter was running for the sheriff of where he lived, and his opponent had a crew cut. Thus, Thompson cute his hair even shorter than that and started referring to the other guy as his “long-haired opponent.” Tehehe. Man, I loved Hunter S. Thompson.

I also really like Spider Jerusalem who has gone out of his five years of hiding from other people up in the wilderness because he has a book deal that he hasn’t completed. In order to write, he must live in the city. In order to live in the city, he must find a job to support him there. Thus, he finds an old contact and starts writing a column entitled “I Hate It Here” for The Word. In the process of writing the news, he starts to create and affect it. It’s very graphic and violent, but also very good.

Shouts out to Jayward who lent them to me YEARS ago, and I promise I’ll return all the books you loaned me. Really.

“The Old Country treated me like a king – even more than on my first visit. Girls in Paris kept putting their pantaloons in my soup. I don’t know if that’s a tradition or if they were low on dinner rolls.” – I, Fatty

This book has the most marvelous set up I have ever read. In the Introduction it explains how “Fatty” Arbuckle, a famous silent movie actor, was an addict of heroin ever since it was prescribed by a bad doctor after a botched surgery. After he was falsely accused of murder and rape, he lost everything except for his Japanese manservant who stayed with him more out of having no place to go as no one would hire someone linked to Arbuckle rather than out of loyalty. The servant had always adminstered Arbucle’s heroin doses so after he could no longer afford to pay him the servant extract salary in another manner. He would refuse to give Arbuckle his heroin until he told part of his story. The wiley man continued this until he had all of Arbuckle’s story.

The only problem is that I don’t if this is true or not. The front of the book says “a novel” but every review I’ve read treats it as the true story. Fiction or not this book was fantastically well written. In the end it’s exactly like my dating history – incredibly humorous and at the same time heartbreakingly pathetic.

The Decay Of The Angel has left me speechless. Or rather spluttering. I can’t even think of how to describe how brilliant it was, but it was a more perfect capstone to the series than I could ever imagine. Up until this book (and even through the first half of it), I thought the series was good but nothing as remarkable as others had said. However this book has to be one of the best I’ve ever read, but it wouldn’t stand as such without the rest of the books as a background. Absolutely enthralling.

It has taken me hours to get this post due to Blogger having problems. Obviously, they knew this book contained HOT GIRL ON GIRL action and bookstore masturbation. Yes, you heard me on the latter. At first I laughed, but on the inside oh how I was crying.

The worst thing about this book is reading it in public. Everyone sees the front of the cover and starts telling me about their Japanese tatoos. Even my DOCTOR joined in on the fun by describing his son’s tattoo which he had done on his lower back so only those he showed it to could see it. Only it’s just a wee bit too high so EVERYONE sees it, and don’t mind me and these hives I’ve had for a year, Doc, because I JUST love hearing about your boys scarification stories.

The first half of this book is pretty dry as it’s all about reincarnation and the different facets of it. However, the second half perks the whole book up with the obsessive thoughts of the narrator. It’s just that classic age old story of falling for a Thai princess who is really the second reincarnation of their childhood best friend… With some lesbian and bookstore masturbation thrown in, that is.

A real heartwarmer to be sure.

How novel: a novel within a novel! The concept reminded me of Blind Assassin. Margaret Atwood could TOTALLY be the new Yukio Mishima. I mean if you just overlook the fact that he wasn’t a lesbian, that his story is political instead of shady sci-fi, and that there’s no hot girls on the cover of his books. Otherwise the two are COMPLETELY twins.

The novel within the novel of Runaway Horses is actually more of a very long pamphlet. A very long boring pamphlet that inspires the young man in the book (who is the reincarnated form of the main character of the first volume of the series) to gather a group of his compatriots together with the goal of killing the most evil men of their society and government off. The plan is thwarted when the leader’s father rats him out. Those Japanese patriarchs – always harshing everyone else’s mellow.

Honda, the best friend of the first book’s main character, quits his job as a judge and becomes a lawyer in order to defend the youth. Becoming a lawyer for someone – now that’s devotion! He ends up getting the youth off only for him to murder someone and then commit suicide. Oh the drama!

Stay tuned for next book when the youth is reincarnated into a princess!