Finished American Psycho, and as weird as it sounds, I enjoyed this book. It is harrowing, disgusting, pornographically violent, and all the same, it was fun to read. Watching as Patrick slowly spirals into his personal hell, which may or may not exist outside of his own mind, you get a real snapshot of the superficial 80s in all their New Wave glamour. The details of the narrative, especially about the clothing, are meticulous, and one of the main reasons this book works so effectively as satire. The concept that the characters have everything going for them on the surface, but are so utterly empty and alone, is driven home perfectly.
Now, in a rare double bill, I have to share that after finishing Psycho, I thought I would give Ellis's first book, Less Than Zero, a try. It is such a fast read, I didn't even have time to put it in the sidebar. Maybe it was because I had just finished Psycho, and was expecting bigger things, but I really didn't care for this book. The other maybe? I think Zero was the author's warm up to Psycho, and the latter is in my opinion the vastly superior book. There are several shared themes: too much money, too many drugs, too much sex, and so much of everything that none of it means anything to anyone. All of the characters in Zero were bored, and I got very bored reading about their "poor little rich kids" lives. I will say I liked the book better than the movie, but that is (a) pretty normal, and (b) still not saying much. D.
Every time I log on to Gmail, I see this picture, advertising their new phone-compatible email program.
On the surface, this is a horror story, a pseudo-autobiographical account of events that the author claims happened in his life. If you choose to believe that these events actually happened, I am guessing you also loved that horrible Johnny Depp movie. If, like me, you choose to see the "events" of this book more as either drug/alcohol induced nightmares, and/or simple theatrical devices used by the author to show us his own inner deterioration as the rift between himself and his estranged father eats at him over the years, then I think this is an easier book to digest (pun somewhat intended), and is much more interesting.
Just got back from a Thanksgiving visit to see the family in Colorado. Although it meant once again abandoning our normal Turkey Day ritual of staying home and in pajamas all day, I am really glad we went. The airport both ways was (amazingly) easy to navigate, in part because we went out on Tuesday and came back Friday night. Both ways, the airport was almost empty, and getting a rental car was simple (although I am so sick of the hard sell at the counter: just give me what I reserved, and stop trying to sell me expensive insurance and upgrades I don't want. Is that so much to ask for?). 
The trip was hosted locally by my grandparents, and included seeing almost all of the (immediate) members of my mom's side of the family, including my mom, my brother and his family, and a surprise visit by special guest star Uncle Bob. My brother's three kids were the stars of the show; they are all adorable, well behaved, and a lot of fun to be around. Hard to believe they are related to me.
On Thanksgiving Day, we all went downtown in the freezing cold (it was below 30 degrees, so I am not exaggerating here) for the Thanksgiving Day Run, a four mile event that wound its way through the Fort. My brother actually ran, while my Mom, Uncle Bob, and I walked it. I felt a little better about eating several plates of food later that day...a little.
Speaking of food, no trip is complete without making sure that my dietary tourism is complete. We hit the two big spots on my itinerary, which are admittedly on opposite ends of the culinary spectrum, but both great stops for me: Bisetti's, a local favorite for decades and a must-visit on any trip to see the grandparents; and Fazoli's, that most-missed fast-food favorite of mine that hasn't quite expanded out to me, but is working its way West. Someday...[sigh]...
I finished The King of Kings County, by Whitney Terrell. The story covers a span of several decades, and manages to stay true to the characters in a realistic manner as human beings, not two-dimensional characters. I hate it in a movie when we see the character as a child, and then twenty years later as an adult, and they are wearing the same glasses and clothing so we know who they are (I think of this as "The Big Change," although that might not be fair to said movie). Heavy-handed visual cues like that pander to the audience, making a paternalistic assumption that we are too dumb to otherwise follow a story. In this book, the characters didn't just get older, they grew up, and did so in a thoughtful and well-planned manner.
I went on a trip to the Central Valley today to visit four different clients; made for a long day, but glad I was able to see all of them in one big swing. At my third stop, my seven year-old client asked me where I worked; when I said Oakland, she said, "Wow, that's a long drive." She's right; probably 1.5 hours without traffic. When the visit was over, she excused herself while I talked to the foster mom, and when she came back, she gave me this apple "in case you get hungry."
I finished The Eternal Footman, by James Morrow, and by doing so, I also finished what the author refers to as The Godhead Trilogy, three related and yet separate novels which explore how the world would react if the dead body of God, all two miles of Him, fell from the sky and landed in the Atlantic Ocean. I would absolutely recommend these books (especially Towing Jehovah, the first book in the series) to anybody, whether or not you are religious or believe in God. The concept of God dying plays with everybody's beliefs: if you believe in God, but He died, would your belief change, strengthen, or weaken? If you did not believe in God, would His death change your mind? And maybe most importantly, would the concrete knowledge that there was a God, but He is now dead, change how we interact with each other?
I finished The Greatest Man In Cedar Hole, by Stephanie Doyon, last week. I liked this book a lot; I thought that the characters were interesting, the plot was a little predictable but still fun, and the author's writing style was light and easy to follow. Not the Greatest Book In My Library, but definitely enjoyable.
If you don't have kids (or, in the alternative, if you aren't a big geek like me), you may not know that Alan is a regular on Sesame Street; he is the current proprietor of the store that used to be run by Mr. Hooper. Alan was not only gracious enough to pose for a photo (I played the "my nephews and niece are big fans" card, allowing me not to embarrass myself further with the "I was sad when Mr. Hooper died, even though I'm a grown man" or "I have a Sesame Street tattoo, even though I'm a grown man...do you want to see it?" cards. That would have been pretty pitiful), he is sending autographed cast photos to said nephews and niece, thus finally assuring I will not win the "Worst Uncle Ever" award again this year. I was running out of room on my metaphorical mantle.
Because of this, I think this book would be great to read inside of an International Coffees commercial: on the couch, cup of (pseudo) coffee steaming next to you, rain smacking lightly on the windows, pausing occasionally and thinking about Jean Luc. You would have a chance to enjoy the language all at once, and then put the book away and let it drift quickly out of your memory, like literary cotton candy. Instead, I read this book in short bursts on the train, surrounded by loud, often smelly people, which didn’t allow me to get very involved in the language, and only heightened the shallowness of the story itself.
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