The Curious Case of Sidd Finch (not to be confused with the Curious Case of Benjamin Button)

AUTHOR: George Plimpton

PUBLISHED: 1987

GENRE: If it was film, I’d call it a mock documentary.  What do you call a book version of that?

In April of 1985, an article ran in Sports Illustrated touting the skills of New York Mets prospect Sidd Finch.  It was a straight-forward enough concept, and probably wouldn’t have generated much buzz, except for the fact that Finch was an English-born Buddhist monk who didn’t know anything about baseball but happened to throw 168 miles per hour.  (He learned to pitch throwing rocks at Himalayan mountain goats.  As one does.)  Fantastic, to be sure, but the article came complete with scouting reports, enthusiastic endorsements from Met management, and even pictures, with outfield Lenny Dykstra* and pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre.  People believed Finch was the real deal.

Two weeks later, SI admitted it was all an April Fools Day hoax.  But the story had taken on such life that Plimpton decided to develop it in a book.  Thus, The Curious Case of Sidd Finch was born. 

It’s a quirky little tale, and includes such memorable scenes as Stottlemyre, then-owner Frank Cashin, and others huddled together in a blimp, dropping baseballs to the waiting catcher on the ground, which is the only way they can think of to simulate the speed of Finch’s pitches.*  The story is narrated by reclusive writer Robert Temple, who gets swept up into the world of the contemplative, meditative Finch as he tries to decide between baseball and enlightenment.  Set in the balminess of spring training Florida**, it’s a meandering tale, but fun, and a good reminder of when Major League Baseball – and the rest of us – didn’t take it all so seriously.  It’s also a perfect example of a world before Google and scopes.com and the instantaneous information of the internet, when someone could play a fun joke on the public without instantly being found out and denounced.  Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Wikipedia.  But Sidd Finch is a good example of the changes brought by the internet age.

LENGTH: 296 pages

MAINSTREAM OR NOT: Not only non-mainstream, but completely unthinkable in our Wikipedia-obsessed world.

SO, SHOULD I READ IT OR NOT?: Yes.  It’s a very strange little story but it’s lots of fun and will bring back good memories of the Amazin’ teams of the mid-80s for the Met faithful, back when they didn’t suck.  Good times. 

*Poor, poor Lenny Dykstra.  I never liked him much – I much preferred Mookie Wilson myself – but the New York Times picture of him behind bars was horribly depressing.  He really should have just stuck to the car washes. 

**For some reason, this book always reminds me of the Tom Wolfe novel, The Right Stuff, probably because the descriptions of south Florida are so similar.  But really, who wouldn’t link the stories of a fake baseball-playing phenomenon and the beginnings of the space program.  Practically the same book!

The Dewey Decimal System

AUTHOR: Nathan Larson
PUBLISHED: 2011
GENRE: Fiction

Dewey Decimal is a shortcut man.

Wait, I feel like I've been here before.

A series of Valentine's Day attacks, described only as "the Occurrence" or "2/14", have left most of the world in ruins.  New York stands decimated, with only a small percentage of its population, its buildings, and its infrastructure still standing.  One building that remains is the New York public library on 42nd street, complete with its lions out front.  This is where we find our hero - well, protagonist, if nothing else - Dewey Decimal.*  Decimal is a former army man who can't remember much beyond his old apartment number and who has an insane System (always with a capital S.  Once again, we've been here before) for survival that includes no left turns before 11 a.m. and lots and lots of Purell.  Decimal freelances as a fixer - or really, an assassin - for DA Daniel Rosenblatt, one of the few authority figures left in the city.  As the story begins, Rosenblatt assigns Decimal to kill a Ukrainian union leader.  Easy enough - until the Ukrainian decides Decimal's going to do some work for him too.  After that, it's 100 pages of I-believe-him-no-I-believe-her back and forth that leaves a bunch of people dead and a bunch of questions unanswered.

This is Larson's first book, and you can tell he was going for a very definitive style, which you have to give him props for.  (The dedication, not the style.)**  He likes to leave his subject out of his sentences rather than connect the two clauses with an and ("I look right and left.  Start moving just to put some distance between me and the storefront"), which is something I actually like to do in my writing.  However, reading it here has given me serious doubts about its effectiveness.  He also really, really, REALLY likes his commas.  Oh, the commas.  "I check my front pants pocket, feeling her eyes on me, finding only a key, feeling the panic making its way up my spine."  And that's one of the better strings.  Seriously, this guy really hates the word "and".  Like I said, it's a stylistic choice, and he sticks with it whole-heartedly.  I'm just not sure it's a good one.

The story wanders around some, back and forth, until finally coming to a less-than-satisfying conclusion right where it started.  In the end, it probably would just be better not to start.

LENGTH: 251 pages
MAINSTREAM OR NOT: Kind of, in the sense that post-apocalyptic tales are become more and more popular
SO, SHOULD I READ IT OR NOT: It's not bad per se, but I can't help thinking there's something better out there.

*Get it? Cause he likes the library? That's the level of wit we're going for here.
**Larson looks extraordinarily like Daniel Faraday from "Lost", most famously known for going to the past and getting shot by his own mother.  Oh, whoops.  Spoiler!

Y: The Last Man

AUTHOR: Brian K. Vaughn (with Pia Guerra, illustrator)

PUBLISHED: 2002-2008 (60 issues in all)

GENRE: Graphic Novel

For me, graphic novels have long been one of those things you keep meaning to check out but never worked up the nerve for.  Eventually, I screwed up my courage and picked up Brian K. Vaughn and Y: The Last Man.*  Most people seem to avoid graphic novels for a few core reasons: they feel that there’s no difference between a graphic novel and those Archie comics you used to buy at the corner store, they refuse to see anything with illustrations as “real” writing, or, like me, they don’t want to start mid-stream in 50 years of back story.  Y refutes all three of those excuses easily.  First off, it’s an isolated story, unlike traditional comics like The X-Men or Superman, where alternate universes and series reboots mean nobody stays dead.  The writing is exciting and real and, almost more importantly, the illustrations are amazing, meaning you both want to read quickly to find out what happens next and move slowly to take in the artistry.  This is not the Richie Rich comic of your youth.  It’s quality stuff, up there with some of the most acclaimed new work on the market.

The series branches off into quite a few storylines, but the primary plot is this: in middle of a very normal day, something spontaneously and instantly kills everything on Earth with a Y chromosome – except amateur escape artist Yorick and his Capuchin monkey, Ampersand.  Yorick just wants to track down his girlfriend, but ends up on a cross-country journey with geneticist Dr. Alison Mann, whose work in cloning technology may or may not have something to do with “the plague”, and Secret Agent 355, who has been tasked by her superiors – whoever they may be – with protecting Yorick at all costs.  It’s entertainment, but it also asks a pretty big question: when everything changes – everything – which relationships do you keep, and which become unimportant?  Do you unify with your fellow woman simply because you are women?  Do you continue to serve the nation that no longer exists?  Gender, nationality, race, family – what of these things still matter?

The primary problem with the series has nothing to do with the writing, and is probably a common one among this genre: at $14 a pop, with 10 editions in all, these things are expensive, and libraries often don’t carry them.  But much like Lost, once you start, it’s over.  So get yourself a Barnes & Noble membership card or an Amazon Plus account.  You’ll be using it. 

LENGTH: It varies from edition to edition, but generally about 125-150 pages

MAINSTREAM OR NOT: Graphic novels are making their way into the general consciousness, but I wouldn’t call them mainstream.

SO, SHOULD I READ IT OR NOT?: Yes.  It’s a great introduction to an often misjudged genre. 

*Not because of the content, mind you, but because Vaughn was heavily involved in that almighty mind-suck, the TV show Lost.  Ah, Lost.  At the time it seemed like the most important thing in the world.  Now watching old episodes just reminds me of all those questions they never bothered to answer.  And I’m not even one of those that hated the final episode.  Yeah, the whole “walk into the light” thing was beyond stupid, but Vincent and Jack in the cane field was beautiful, and Sawyer and Juliet ended up together eventually, so who am I to complain.  Hmmmm, Sawyer.  BUT ANYWAY.

About a Boy

AUTHOR: Nick Hornsby
PUBLISHED: 1998
GENRE: Fiction

Round two of well-known, prolific writers that I've never read: Nick Hornsby.  He got picked because he also falls under that strange category of guy lit.  Hornsby has a knack for writing books that are later turned into good movies: "Fever Pitch", "High Fidelity", and this one,"About a Boy".  The movie version showcases Hugh Grant at his Hugh Grant-iest, which is to say full of quips and cadish and all, "by gum, I seem to have fallen in love".  Hugh Grant - at least public figure Hugh Grant - is kind of the same person as Will Freeman.

If you've seen the movie, you know the story: Will Freeman is an island, too cool for school, too rich for a job (due to his father's one musical hit, an obnoxious Christmas song).  Marcus is an incredible awkward 11-year old with a suicidal mother who even if the best of times thinks Joni Mitchell is completely normal listening for a pre-teen boy.  A strange series of events - including a dead duck, a fake son, and a new pair of sneakers - bring them all together.  Whether or not they stay friends or go their separate ways is a matter of debate.

The book and the movie follow very close paths, diverging only at towards the end - in the movie, Will accompanies Marcus on stage to sing Roberta Flack, but in the book, Will must accompany Marcus's mother to go get him from a police station and deal with Marcus's father.  Both situations work well.  The mood of both versions is very much the same - the same language, the same long paths of thought.  Book Marcus sounds and acts just like movie Marcus.  It's a testament to Hornby's writing that his works translate to both mediums. 

Now, this is guy lit worth reading.

LENGTH: 307 pages
MAINSTREAM OR NOT: Hugh Grant in the late '90s?  Definitely mainstream.
SO, SHOULD I READ IT OR NOT?: Yes.  It's a rare case of a good book and a good movie.

SMACKDOWN: Krakauer v. Krakauer!

Here it is, for one day only!  Krakauer v. Krakauer!  Privileged white kids in Alaska v. obsessed mountain climbers in Tibet! It's the smackdown of the century!
Well, maybe not.  And it's not for one day only, either.  But it sounded good.
This the first in (hopefully) a series of podcasts about whatever book needs talkin' about.  Join me and my sound engineer, emcee, and dear papa Albert Martella as we discuss great literature.  This week, it's two of Jon Krakauer's more well-known books: "Into the Wild", the story of Chris McCandless, and "Into Thin Air", the tale of the 1996 Mount Everest disaster.  Enjoy!

The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook

AUTHOR: Matt Dunn

PUBLISHED: 2010

GENRE: Fiction

As you may have noticed, my forays into the world of chick lit have not gone particularly well, so I figured I would try the other side: guy lit.  Before reading this, I had always thought of guy lit as, oh, I don’t know, Chuck Palahnuik.  But apparently there’s a whole counterculture to Bridget Jones’ Diary and Confessions of a Shopaholic.  Apparently, men want to read about love, too.*  Hey, there’s a market for Amish romance novels, so why not sappy guys in love?

Edward Middleton (no relation to the Duchess of Cambridge, as far as I know) is perfectly content just floating along in life, until the day he comes home to a cleaned-out apartment and a Dear John letter from his girlfriend of ten years, Jane.  But Jane hasn’t pulled the old “it’s not you, it’s me” card – she’s blatantly told Edward it’s him.  More specifically, it’s the way he’s let himself go and become a boring old man – so boring she had to go to Tibet for 3 months.  When she comes back, though, if he’s made a change… well, then just maybe, there will be hope for them.  So Edward, with the help of his metrosexual friend Dan, a trainer named Sam, and lots of money, sets out to make himself the man Jane will want.

Everything about this story is literal; there' no depth or subterfuge anywhere.  The people around Edward are nothing but stereotypes: Dan, the suave minor celebrity who beds a different woman every night and kicks then out every morning with no remorse; Wendy, the sassy bartender who’s always available to give a real woman’s opinion; and Samantha, the spunky personal trainer who doesn’t take any gruff.  Edward’s not all the much better himself – a portly, sad-sack 30-something who just wants his old life back.  Over time, he loses a little weight and gains a little self-respect, but that’s about it.

Dunn is another one that suffers from the impression that having his characters speak exactly like real people is a good idea.  It’s not.  It’s boring.  His idea of fleshing out an idea is to have one character not get it, so that the other character has to repeat it multiple times, which does nothing but make his characters seem extraordinarily dim-witted.  His word choice also leaves a lot to be desired.  In one dinner scene, he writes that Dan “speared a piece of chicken on his fork” (as opposed to on his spoon?) “and popped it in his mouth”.  It’s not grammatically wrong per se, but those two verbs don’t go together.  I spent the next 5 minutes trying to figure out the angle and speed at which he’d have to flick his fork to get the chicken piece to “pop” into his mouth.  That’s not what you want you reader to be focused on.  Unfortunately, it happens a lot.

Despite its label of “guy lit”, I cannot imagine a man wanting to read this book.  Even though it was written by a guy, it reads like it was written by a woman trying to emulate a man’s thinking.**  Worse than that, it doesn’t go anywhere.  I actually cared less about these characters on the last page than I did on the first.  At that point, it really doesn’t matter who’s writing for whom. 

LENGTH: 368 pages

MAINSTREAM OR NOT?: I really don’t see guy lit taking over the market like chick lit has.

SO, SHOULD I READ IT OR NOT?: No.  This story was about as deep as the paper it was printed on. 

*It does explain James Patterson and Sundays at Tiffany’s. 

**I know, I know.  I’m engaging in all sorts of gender stereotyping right now.  My sociology professor would be horrified.  Oh well. 

The Tsarina's Daughter

AUTHOR: Carolly Erickson
PUBLISHED: 2009
GENRE: Historical Fiction

Warning: Spoilers ahead!  If you don't want to know what happens... well, I was going to say skip to the end, but in the end I'll tell you not to read it, so it really doesn't matter much, does it?

When we were in high school, and I would drift off into my own little world, my awesome friend Jen would respond to the question, "what's up with her?" with this answer:

"She's recreating the Russian Revolution in her head."

The life and deaths of Tsar Nicholas II, his wife, and 5 children has long been a obsession of mine, especially the stories of the 4 beautiful girls: Olga, Tatiana, Marie, and the infamous Anastasia, long believed by many to have survived the massacre of her family.  For a long time, Robert Massie and I were very close friends.* I still have Anastasia, the 1956 classic starring Ingrid Bergman and Yul Brynner, on VHS.  So when I saw a fairly new novel about Tatiana, the second of Romanov daughters, I was all over it.  Unfortunately, Erickson doesn't seem to know what to do with the history she's been given.

Erickson's story is a what-if tale: what if a young grand duchess, long sheltered from the world, makes friends with a poor factory girl and becomes immersed in the poverty outside the palace walls?  And what if that girl somehow escapes the tragic fate of her family?  It's an interesting concept, and I have no problem with fiction that strays from the actual history.  If I did, I'd still be reading Massie instead of this.  But Erickson is so anxious to tell her story that she shoehorns the history into the story, making it seem out-of-place.  When Alexis, the heir to the throne is born, he is alive for only a few pages when Tatiana tells the reader that he has hemophilia, the bleeding disease that inflicted the inbred royal families of Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  There's no build up, no episode that introduces the disease, just he has it.  I half-expected her to give a genetic breakdown of it - "Alexia had clotting factor VIII deficiency, the most common form".** It's all very awkward, and it happens over and over.

Erickson makes her characters very unsympathetic - Nicholas is a whiny drunk, and Alexandra is disturbed.  For all her claims that she will protect her mother at all costs, Tatiana does little to aid her sick mother, and in fact seems to spend virtually no time with her.  Tatiana is too busy running around the streets of St. Petersburg unattended, or hanging out with Daria, the revolutionary living in the attic.  (Daria is the sister of one of Tatiana's maids, and is brought to work at the palace after she loses her job and her fiance.  But she also hates the royal family and actively campaigns for their overthrow.  And yet Tatiana lets her stay?  It doesn't make any sense until the end when Daria takes Tatiana's place and is killed along with the royal family.  And even then it doesn't really make sense.)

The basic premise is not a bad idea, but instead of working with what she was given, Erickson writes out her tale and then adds in bits and pieces of history when it's all over.  It would have been better for her to start with her own characters and let them act as they naturally would.

LENGTH: 352 pages
MAINSTREAM OR NOT: No.  It's historical fiction meets romance novel.
SO, SHOULD I READ IT OR NOT?: No.  She tried to force her story in where it didn't fit, and it's obvious.

*Robert Massie wrote a number of books about the Romanovs, including Nicholas and Alexandra and The Romanovs: The Final Chapter.
**I wrote a paper on the disease in a science class in college.  It was supposed to be about the genetics of hemophilia but turned into a dissertation on how the disease affected the fall of Europe's monarchies, which is how a history major deals with her 3 required science credits.