Jaclyn
This book (published two years ago) was a recommended read if you liked Station Eleven (which I did). So I picked it up from the library, read it yesterday, and LOVED it.
There are a lot of similarities to Station Eleven. A virulent flu epidemic has killed off a good portion of the world's population. Information about the epidemic comes in bits and pieces throughout the book. This story is smaller in scope than Station Eleven though: it focuses on one man (Hig), his dog Jasper, and his gun-toting comrade Bangley. They guard a small airport that Hig regularly patrols from above in his old Cessna. They check the perimeter and shoot intruders on sight. (Hig does so reluctantly, Bangley conducts these missions with relish.) Hig tends the garden, hunts, and fishes, while Bangley provides the firepower and a commando-like bravado that keeps their little corner of the world relatively safe. Hig and Bangley have a wary but companionable friendship. (Hig likens their relationship to that of an old married couple at one point.) Hig's dog Jasper is all that remains from his old life from nearly a decade ago and he's understandably attached to him.
The Dog Stars is written in stream-of-consciousness prose from Hig's perspective. It's composed of short paragraphs and quick bursts of thought. Hig admits later in the book that he finds himself speaking out loud to no one in particular and the writing style reflects Hig's long-term isolation. Hig is narrating, but to no one in particular—we're just along for the ride.
In some ways, The Dog Stars is better than Station Eleven, but I don't think it's fair for me to directly compare the two even with their plot similarities. They're still very different books. I found this story surprisingly emotional and stirring. I lost myself reading it for hours. I teared up at one point. Heller's characterization and pacing is incredibly well-done. His poetry-like descriptions of the natural world, of flying, of Hig's attachment to Jasper: it's all so good. You'll be missing out if you didn't add this book to your list for 2015.
Terenzio found herself in the unique position of being JFK, Jr.'s personal assistant during the early days of what would eventually become George magazine in the late 1990's. This book is her telling of that experience—mainly focusing on her close personal relationship with him and Carolyn.
It's a fascinating book, of course, because there's nothing better than someone describing intimate details of the life of a Kennedy. And, to hear Terenzio's story, there's really no one better than her to do so, since she more or less ran his life for some years—arguably the most important years, the ones leading up to his death in 1999.
Despite what you might think (or hope for) before starting the book, there's no dishy gossip or dirt-throwing. Terenzio maintains the positive public persona of Kennedy and tries her damnedest to lay to rest some of the more ugly rumors about him and his wife Carolyn. Terenzio was clearly in awe of Carolyn, who took her under her wing and generously provided her with friendship and a new wardrobe to boot. It's a respectable eulogy for the couple and shows their desire to make their relationship work even in less-than-perfect circumstances.
Unfortunately, we all know how the story ends, but it's to Terenzio's credit that she doesn't enter into an overwrought play-by-play of the days-long search for the missing plane and instead focuses on the very real personal losses she felt. She could have easily turned the book exploitative here, but chose not to and is rewarded by coming off as a loyal friend and employee over a decade later.
Last fall I read The Secret Race by Tyler Hamilton and it was one of the best nonfiction books I read that year. As this story has evolved over the past few months, with Armstrong admitting to Oprah that he doped through each of his Tour de France wins, there's been a lot of hindsight 20/20-type statements from cyclings fans and sports writers.
On the other hand, Walsh suspected Armstrong of doping from his very first Tour win in 1999 and was vocal about it then and throughout the next decade. This book is a collection of Walsh's articles for The Sunday Times—from the first, disbelieving reaction to Armstrong's 1999 win to the growing mountain of evidence against Armstrong that accumulated through each consecutive win. One of the few writers willing to question Armstrong's wins, Walsh found himself not only a cycling press pariah, but he also wrote the articles that led Armstrong to sue The Sunday Times for libel. (Armstrong won. The newspaper is now seeking the return of the original settlement.)
This book provides fantastic background on Armstrong's wins and walks through the Armstrong doping legacy in great detail. The quality of Walsh's research is especially interesting, considering that Walsh was writing outlier observations at the time. Indeed, much of what Walsh mentions as possible evidence of doping has now been confirmed by Armstrong himself.
There are a few offhand articles included in the book that are mostly recaps or compilations of facts written in Walsh's earlier work, so it can feel repetitive at times. Even still, the book moves quickly and doesn't feel tedious. The best moments are the beginning of the book (the first few articles Walsh wrote on the subject) and Walsh's vindication at the end of the book.
If you haven't tired yet of reading about Lance Armstrong, this book is an interesting, provocative look back through the years. Best of all, it's only $4.50 on Kindle. I may follow this up with Walsh's personal book about his investigation, Seven Deadly Sins. If you've read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
There is a lot of good in this book toward the end, but it's built upon a premise of human subjugation, power complexes, and attempted sympathy mongering for a handful of border patrol personnel while the writer was actually working for years in the profession. Was the inside look worth it? This book, taken as a whole, would suggest no.
There was a frustrating mediocrity to the story. I loved elements of it, but it needed a far tighter edit. About 200 pages in, we're still getting exposition and meeting new characters. The lack of focus made it difficult to pause and come back to the story. Who is this? Where were we? A shorter and more tightly-edited version of this book would have been a wonderful read.
This is exactly the book I needed. It's been a long year of reading–best described as uneven...at best. So, while this book doesn't feature hyper-literary prose and the dystopian robot plot isn't groundbreaking, it is wonderfully suspenseful, creative, and kept me reading late into the night. I can't ask for much more than that right now.
I'll read anything set in a polygamist sect, but the story veered in strange, otherworldly directions that felt jarring and unnecessary. Writing a semi-realistic fable is hard work and when done right, it has enormous payoffs for the reader (see The Bear and the Nightingale, a favorite of mine). This, though, was too weakly conceived to reach real coherence.
There are beautiful sensory moments here. My main frustration was the perfunctory nature of the story, told without real feeling or emotion. Funnily enough, both food and personality are pretty scarce in a memoir centered almost entirely around autobiography and the conception of a long-standing, storied French restaurant.
Brené Brown's “The Gifts of Imperfection” is a wonderful, soothing book. But, I can't shake the feeling that everything I've read of Brown's subsequently is a poorer extension of that original success. It's a common problem in this genre: a writer has a good (or maybe great) idea, they write a compelling book about that idea, and once they find fame, have to keep tapping the same well with less and less impact each time.
