Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Magician's Assistant

#720
Title: The Magician's Assistant
Author: Ann Patchett
Publisher: Harcourt
Year: 1997
368 pages
Audiobook.

This may be my last Patchett. The plots are quite similar in terms of odd coincidences, too-tidy wrap-ups of too many strands, and emotions at the conclusion that I don't believe. This one would have been okay enough as a quick read except that I'd just read another Patchett so while I couldn't guess the plot, I could guess the structure. Plus, I don't buy the ending.

Three Cups of Deceit: How Greg Mortenson, Humanitarian Hero, Lost His Way

#719
Title: Three Cups of Deceit: How Greg Mortenson, Humanitarian Hero, Lost His Way
Author: Jon Krakauer
Publisher: Knopf
Year: 2011
96 pages

 A useful companion to Mortenson's book, and perhaps one that raises the caution: People with a passion for humanitarian work aren't necessarily the best administrators, and certainly aren't the best accountants. That Mortenson is annoying to work with should be obvious to anyone who's read him, but isn't an indictment of his practices. However, Krakauer documents a number of problems that suggest we really need to attend to infrastructure and fiscal transparency in our non-profits and NGOs, as well as conduct adequate needs assessments and outcome evaluation.

What I Hate: From A to Z

 #718
Title: What I Hate: From A to Z
Author: Roz Chast
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Year: 2011
64 pages

Not Chast's best. She's usually hilarious; this inspired a smile or two but had no real zing.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Unwind (Unwind Trilogy #1)

#717
Title: Unwind (Unwind Trilogy #1)
Author: Neal Shusterman
Publisher: Simon & Schuster 
Year: 2007
335 pages
Audiobook.

A nicely tense dystopian YA novel, first in a series. The story is enjoyable enough to make up for the somewhat expository and clunky present-tense writing. The basic premise provides an interesting distorted reflection of Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go: Abortion is illegal, but adolescents can be "unwound" for spare parts. Logan's Run comes to mind as well. The variety of uses and abuses to which this policy may be put are sometimes shown, sometimes told. The three main characters are engaging and differ sufficiently from each other, and some of the minor characters become more sympathetic over time. I found Lev the most interesting character, and the interpretation of tithing an engaging idea. I don't believe that there would be Jewish tithes, however--Jewish philosophy argues against it, as well as Jewish beliefs and practices around death. Whether it's more plausible for the other religions mentioned is a question I'll leave to others more cultually proficient in those traditions.

Update: I think it's only fair to add the questions that arose as I reflected on the book last night. I'll spoiler tag them by putting them in white lettering. Highlight to see:
1. Why would a rebellion humanize and personalize the unwinds' situation? It might bring it to the public's attention, but time and again, studies of group behavior show that appealing at the individual level ("Mom! Don't you love me?") personalizes, while groups are perceived as scary or deindividuated mobs.
2. Why would a rebellion in a holding facility lead to changes in the law that favor the rioters? Blowing stuff up is more likely to lead to more stringent arrangements.
3. Roland is unwound when he is because he has a rare blood type, AB-. I'm not sure how Rh factors into it, but AB is the universal recipient. Though it's a rare type, it's not necessary to have it on hand for AB recipients, at least AB+. Further, Connor receives Roland's transplanted arm. So Connor is also AB-? Since this is true of only 0.6% of the US population, that's too much of a coincidence.
4. I'm willing to live with the conceit that one's consciousness pervades one's organs, but what about blood? Plasma? Lymph? The ending, though poignant, ruptures my suspension of disbelief with a) its wish fulfillment, and b) the implication that indeed, the unwinds are still alive--and even conscious!--as transplanted organs, which kind of kills the idea that unwinding is murder and substantiates the rationale for it.

Still, a good book, but not a 5-star experience.

When a Crocodile Eats the Sun

#716
Title: When a Crocodile Eats the Sun
Author: Peter Godwin
Publisher: Picador
Year: 2005/2007
416 pages
Audiobook.

Godwin's memoir of growing up in Zimbabwe is a good companion piece to Fuller's Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood; like Fuller's autobiography, Godwin's works best in the childhood segments. Godwin captures changing attitudes and moods over time and shows the sociopolitical changes in his country across his lifetime. The writing is descriptive but not flowery, and the dialogue flows naturally. 

Darke (Septimus Heap #6)

#715
Title: Darke (Septimus Heap #6)
Author:  Angie Sage
Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books
Year: 2011
641 pages

One of the better books in this series, with plenty of action, a good level of anxiety, and teen self-preocccupation and angst. Some leveling occurs--Silas does something well, Simon attempts to mend his ways, and Septimus makes some errors. Enough multi-book story arcs are resolved for a good sense of closure, while others remain tantalizingly open for the 7th book including, perhaps, Princess Jenna's relationship to the Port Witch Coven. 

Blue Nights

#714
Title: Blue Nights
Author: Joan Didion
Publisher: Knopf
Year: 2011 
208 pages

While The Year of Magical Thinking was easy to become absorbed in, and was an excellent evocation of grief, Blue Nights is a better-structured book. In part, this is because Didion is always so meticulous about language and the sequencing of scenes. Here, that very carefulness is subject to scrutiny. If The Year of Magical Thinking is about grief, Blue Nights may be about the defenses against grief, about ways of narrating, remembering, and depicting that subsume the emotional chaos of the experience. The Year of Magical Thinking was cathartic to read. Blue Nights may be about the agony of not making peace with overwhelming grief except by engaging with it only as a cognitive experience. Didion ruminates on her own mortality, draws parallels and identifies chasms between herself and her daughter, and demonstrates ways in which a telling cannot contain the subtleties of the experience, and may deflect the teller and listener. She uses the representation of privilege within the memoir to provide the reader with an experience to mirror hers of trying to understand her relationship with Quintana. If this sounds technical, it is, but Didion manages to convey her dilemma eloquently and without bogging down. It's a remarkable book and I recommend it highly.