2011 in Books Not Published in 2011 (Part 1) “Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro (2005). The first of quite a few books I read this year in tandem with watching their respective film adaptations, “Never Let Me Go” is a prime example of how and why science fiction and so-called literary fiction aren’t mutually exclusive. This novel by a perennial Booker favorite depicts a vaguely recognizable past retrofitted with advances in biogenetics as it deals with questions of identity and humanity and finding love in an emotionally cold climate.  “Winter’s Bone” by Daniel Woodrell (2006). Debra Granik may well have a nascent proclivity for film projects with the word “bone” in their titles, but it’s really no wonder why the “Down to the Bone” director dug up this “bone” from relative obscurity and made it into one of the best relatively obscure films of last year. This quiet story of a girl down on her luck in the wintry slopes of the Ozarks is an uncompromising look at the exigencies of finding (familial) love in a hopeless place.  “How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe” by Charles Yu (2010). With his nonexistent canine sidekick, his clinically depressed personal digital assistant, and his daddy issues constantly in tow, time machine repairman Charles Yu attempts to navigate the future meta-science-fictional Minor Universe 31 in this dizzyingly crafty novel written by present-day, happily-married-with-two-kids Charles Yu. Naturally, along the way the fictional Charles Yu stumbles upon a guide book titled “How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe.” Don’t panic: “How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe,” the novel, is genuinely respectful of the legacy of the great Douglas Adams, even as its protagonist seems intent on seeking an answer other than 42 to life, the universe, and everything.  “Room” by Emma Donoghue (2010). The narrator is a boy named Jack. He’s only five years old, but he already has an idea of negative integers. There is, however, a lot of things he doesn’t yet understand as clearly as other kids of his age already do. Jack has seen nothing of the world beyond Room, where he and his beloved Ma are kept captive by a heartless man they call Old Nick. Inspired by the famous Fritzl abduction case, “Room” reverberates with alternating currents of domestic peril and universal concern.  “True Grit” by Charles Portis (1968). Just as F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” is the story of socialite Jay Gatsby eloquently told by his friend, Nick Carraway, “True Grit” is the story of marshal Rooster Cogburn told by the older and wiser voice of his teenage companion, Mattie Ross. True, but only partly; “True Grit” is as much Cogburn’s tale of heroism as it is Mattie’s bildungsroman. And like “The Great Gatsby,” “True Grit” is a Great American Novel. True, wholly. Next: 2011 in Books Not Published in 2011 (Part 2)

2011 in Books Not Published in 2011 (Part 1)

“Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro (2005). The first of quite a few books I read this year in tandem with watching their respective film adaptations, “Never Let Me Go” is a prime example of how and why science fiction and so-called literary fiction aren’t mutually exclusive. This novel by a perennial Booker favorite depicts a vaguely recognizable past retrofitted with advances in biogenetics as it deals with questions of identity and humanity and finding love in an emotionally cold climate. 

“Winter’s Bone” by Daniel Woodrell (2006). Debra Granik may well have a nascent proclivity for film projects with the word “bone” in their titles, but it’s really no wonder why the “Down to the Bone” director dug up this “bone” from relative obscurity and made it into one of the best relatively obscure films of last year. This quiet story of a girl down on her luck in the wintry slopes of the Ozarks is an uncompromising look at the exigencies of finding (familial) love in a hopeless place. 

“How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe” by Charles Yu (2010). With his nonexistent canine sidekick, his clinically depressed personal digital assistant, and his daddy issues constantly in tow, time machine repairman Charles Yu attempts to navigate the future meta-science-fictional Minor Universe 31 in this dizzyingly crafty novel written by present-day, happily-married-with-two-kids Charles Yu. Naturally, along the way the fictional Charles Yu stumbles upon a guide book titled “How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe.” Don’t panic: “How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe,” the novel, is genuinely respectful of the legacy of the great Douglas Adams, even as its protagonist seems intent on seeking an answer other than 42 to life, the universe, and everything. 

“Room” by Emma Donoghue (2010). The narrator is a boy named Jack. He’s only five years old, but he already has an idea of negative integers. There is, however, a lot of things he doesn’t yet understand as clearly as other kids of his age already do. Jack has seen nothing of the world beyond Room, where he and his beloved Ma are kept captive by a heartless man they call Old Nick. Inspired by the famous Fritzl abduction case, “Room” reverberates with alternating currents of domestic peril and universal concern. 

“True Grit” by Charles Portis (1968). Just as F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” is the story of socialite Jay Gatsby eloquently told by his friend, Nick Carraway, “True Grit” is the story of marshal Rooster Cogburn told by the older and wiser voice of his teenage companion, Mattie Ross. True, but only partly; “True Grit” is as much Cogburn’s tale of heroism as it is Mattie’s bildungsroman. And like “The Great Gatsby,” “True Grit” is a Great American Novel. True, wholly.

Next: 2011 in Books Not Published in 2011 (Part 2)

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

I’m broke and the apartment needs space and I need to have less load next time I move out (last time I did, I slipped on a curb and wounded my shin and lost a toenail while carrying Jonathan Safran Foer and company), so I’m selling some of my books here. (I shall update it sporadically with more photos of for-sale books on our wooden floor.) Help me (partially) live my dream of being a bookseller and fund the (immediate) rest of my life!

I’m broke and the apartment needs space and I need to have less load next time I move out (last time I did, I slipped on a curb and wounded my shin and lost a toenail while carrying Jonathan Safran Foer and company), so I’m selling some of my books here. (I shall update it sporadically with more photos of for-sale books on our wooden floor.) Help me (partially) live my dream of being a bookseller and fund the (immediate) rest of my life!

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well

Released just a day apart, Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 and Walter Isaacson’s Steve Jobs have more things in common than their week of publication. There’s the quite obvious similarity of their being big, physically and commercially: At nearly a thousand pages, 1Q84 is now considered by many as the popular Japanese author’s magnum opus, while Steve Jobs’s 600-plus pages have made it the year’s best of the best-selling hardcovers. But familiarity with both books, it turns out, reveals a couple of more interesting manners of likeness.

1Q84 and Steve Jobs both contain a considerable amount of musical references. As is customary for Murakami, 1Q84 is sprinkled with allusions and unmasked citations of pop, jazz, and classical pieces famous and obscure. It’s epigraph is a stanza of “It’s Only a Paper Moon” and it’s opening scene has the unlikely instance of a Tokyo taxi driver listening to Leoš Janáček’s “Sinfonietta.” On the other hand, Steve Jobs, being a portrait of Steve Jobs, is only fair to mention the late Apple CEO’s musical preferences, most notably Bob Dylan. Jobs, the book recounts, wanted Dylan to perform at his thirtieth birthday celebration, but the musician declined. Jobs invited Ella Fitzgerald instead.

The more significant similarity, though, is already hinted at by the curious title of Murakami’s novel. 1Q84 is a pun on the year 1984, in which the book is set: the Japanese “9” is pronounced “Q.” It’s also a play on George Orwell’s 1984, whose iconic Big Brother inspired, albeit inversely, the mysterious Little People in 1Q84. 1984, Steve Jobs informs readers below 30, also inspired the famous 1984 Macintosh ad directed by Ridley Scott, no less, and premiered by Apple at Super Bowl XVIII. 1984 was a big year, apparently.

Another thing 1Q84 and Steve Jobs have in common: In a bout of biblio-bigamy, I’m reading both.