jodiwilldare's reviews
1520 reviews

Dear Authors,

Listen to me. If you were smart you would write interesting Largehearted Boy Book Notes essays about your book and include good music. I cannot count how many books I have read because of the author’s Book Notes essay. Wait. I will count a few just so you know how many I’m talking about: Sabotage Cafe, Personal Days, The Monsters of Templeton, Throw Like a Girl (and there are eight others on my shelf that I bought but haven’t gotten around to reading yet).

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I feel a little bad about What Was Lost by Catherine O’Flynn. Here O’Flynn wrote this great novel and I had to go wreck it all by reading Elizabeth McCracken’s memoir and having my mind blown. Now all I want to do is talk about the McCracken book only I can’t yet find the words.

In my (slim) defense, the less you know about O’Flynn’s book the better. There’s a mystery at the heart of this novel and talking about it too much would give it away and I don’t want to wreck it for anyone.

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Forgive me Philip Roth, for I have sinned. First of all, I’m confessing as though I was that kind of Catholic and according to that weird guy at Barnes & Noble you’re an atheist. So I guess that’s kind of weird.

Anyway, Mr. Roth, my sin is that of doubt. I doubted you. Oh you of twenty-nine books and the admiration of Charles D’Ambrosio, Jonathan Lethem, and Nathan Englander. Yes, I picked up Indignation with doubt in my heart. And that doubt, it did persist.

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As someone who spends most of her time reading (and writing) literary fiction, I have a hard time writing about graphic novels. I am unsure of what metrics to use to measure their success or failure, and spend a lot of time trying to determine what those might. Just when I get myself worked up into a nice confused tizzy, I kick myself in the ass and go back to the most basic question we should ask of any piece of art we’re trying to talk about, does it work?

Identity Crisis, a graphic novel written by Brad Melzer and illustrated by Rags Morales, works. Going into the book I was a little leery. My friend Wolfdogg had loaned it to me, and he has the distinction of being the person who has suggested some of the shittiest books I’ve ever read.

But when it comes to graphic novels I’ve learned that he can be trusted. He has yet to steer me wrong.

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I read Andrew Porter’s Flannery O’Connor award-winning collection The Theory of Light & Matter over a month ago and I thought I didn’t like it. I was wrong. Today, I fished the book out from the pile that surrounds my bed because I was determined to write about it.

As I flipped through the pages reading paragraphs from various stories I found myself thinking, “oh I really liked this one,” “this one is my favorite.” It was right about then I realized that I really only disliked one story and was sort of on the fence about a few others. But the beauty of stories like “Merkin,” “River Dog,” and “Skin” should have more that made up for any of the others. I am a fickle reader and what I remember most is disliking the story “Theory of Light and Matter” and therefore dismissing the rest out of pocket.

Bad reader! Shame on me.

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All About Lulu is so good that I am willing to forgive its author, Jonathan Evison, for being a little coy with the reader. This is saying a lot. Next to adverbs and Chuck Klosterman, coyness is my biggest literary pet peeve. But what Lulu lacks in upfrontness she sure makes up for in humor, emotion, and, as odd as it sounds, honesty.

All About Lulu is less about Lulu and more about William Miller (not the “Almost Famous” William Miller but nearly as nerdy) and his obsession with her. Lulu is Will’s stepsister who joins Will’s family after his mom dies and his body-building dad marries Willow, Lulu’s mom. Will was having a tough go of it after losing his mom, his only ally in the family, until Lulu comes along.

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I can’t remember if this is the year that we proclaim the death of the novel or if it’s the short story that’s supposed to be dead. Maybe it’s fiction in general, or publishing specifically. It’s hard to keep up with all the death knells. So depending on what’s supposed to be dead at the moment, Ali Smith’s collection The First Person and Other Stories is either a blazing celebration of the short story or a tender eulogy.

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I really wanted to dislike Wonder Boys. I even tried to dislike it. I mean, here it was a book about writers (barf) by Michael Chabon (barf) who kind of gives me the willies (I think it’s the hair). Despite all that, Wonder Boys still crawled into my heart.

So we’ve got pot-smoking, wife-cheating, never-ending-novel writing Grady Tripp and the weekend from hell. His editor comes into town for writerpalooza or something and brings along a drag queen. Grady’s wife has also chosen that day to leave him and Grady’s mistress, the chancellor of the university he teaches at, also decides to tell him she’s pregnant. Oh and Grady also managed to thwart the suicide of his gifted-oddball student James Leer who steals a jacket worn by Marilyn Monroe. Also, the chancellor’s dog is killed.

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