Newest Obsession: Small Demons

I love data. LOVE IT. Tags, taxonomies, spreadsheets, charts, graphs, numbers, collections, cataloging... you name it. I keep a spreadsheet of my reading statistics (which allows me to post annual reading stat posts like this one), have recently rediscovered the joy of tagging titles on LibraryThing (come join me!), and am the only person at work who doesn't groan when billing comes around at the end of each month.

So imagine my delight in discovering Small Demons, a site apparently dedicated to collecting information about my one true love (with apologies to my husband): books.

Small Demons allows users to create collections of books (anyone looking for a list of books featuring Wicked Stepmothers? Rendezvous in Paris?), people (Geminis, Oscar Winners, Comedic Influences), items (video games featured in Ready Player One), and pretty much any other subject you can imagine. But it also calls on members to tag books with the people, organizations, places and things contained in them, building a database of information about and quotes from books that is awe-inspiring and overwhelming and a downright rabbithole of entertainment.

Say, for example, I'm going on vacation to Cape Cod and want to read something set on the peninsula. Easy: I can search by Place for "Cape Cod." This will return 774 books that mention Cape Cod, whether it be the setting of the entire book or merely mentioned in passing, which I can then narrow further by specific location. Or if I've just finished reading two fictionalized biographies of Zelda Fitzgerald and I'm eager for more, I can search People for "Zelda Fitzgerald," and get 71 books that mention the star of the Jazz Age, whether she be the author (Save Me the Waltz), a key character (Flapper), or just mentioned in passing (A More Perfect Union).

I could get caught up in this site browsing or adding my own data and quotes (notably missing from the Zelda Fitzgerald page, for example, are both of the novels that prompted me to want to learn more about her). It's definitely a site that's still growing, but one with a lot of potential. Anyone else been browsing here?

Furry Friends of Internet Fame

The Internet is capable of transforming someone perfectly ordinary into someone wildly famous (just look at Justin Bieber). But those someones are not always human someones, as the four-legged stars of several blogs-turned-books can attest:

Maddie, a sweet-tempered coonhound who accompanied her owner on a cross-country photojournalism trip, is perhaps one of the most photogenic--and patient--dogs in the world. Maddie on Things (Chronicle Books) is living proof of this claim, featuring no less than 120 stunning photographs of Maddie posing on everything from giant watermelons to car hoods to turtles to tree trunks, across the country. The photographs reveal both her patience and beauty, and the interesting objects and scenes encountered on a road trip. (See Maddie's book trailer here.)

Henri is a black-and-white cat known as the world's first and foremost feline philosopher. Online, he offers up short films depicting his general ennui; his first book, Henri le Chat Noir (Ten Speed Press), offers up the same "existential musings of an angst-filled cat" via a collection of photographs and quotes from Henri. His droll insights and dry wit, coupled with dramatic black-and-white photography, combine to create a book that will fit perfectly on the shelves of any philosopher, cat-lover or philosophizing cat-lover.

Grumpy Cat's tagline just about sums up the frowning feline's take on the world: "I had fun once. It was awful." Grumpy Cat's book from Chronicle, aptly titled Grumpy Cat, combines new photos of the well-loved frowning face with classics from the Grumpy Cat blog to offer new readers and long-time fans alike a dose of serious grumpiness--though the images and captions are just humorous enough to turn most frowns upside-down. The only who will not be amused by Grumpy Cat's antics is, of course, Grumpy Cat.

This column has been edited from the original version, which ran in the Tuesday, August 27th issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. If you don't already subscribe, sign up here to receive a bi-weekly dose of readerly goodness in your inbox.

Book Review: Lexicon, by Max Barry

Lexicon was one of those books that grew out of seemingly nowhere; I'd heard nothing about it, then I saw it everywhere. It was on blogs I read, mentioned on the radio, featured in a podcast. And when I browsed the shelves of Politics and Prose with Rachel from Home Between Pages (Note to self: Browsing a bookstore with a fellow book blogger is bad for the budget.) and found a signed copy, it was destiny: we were meant to be together.

I ended up reading the entire novel in a day. I've since recommended it to several other people, two of whom have come back and told me that they read the entire novel in a day.

That could probably suffice as enough of a a review, but in order to truly do the book justice:

Lexicon is a story about the power of words. In a construction that is at first reminiscent of the recruiting scenes of X-Men, eerily talented professional something-or-others travel around the world looking for people with a certain skill. Though the details are fuzzy at first, it becomes clear that it has to do with persuasion: the ability to persuade, and the ability not to be persuaded.

When these recruiters find Emily Ruff, she is taken to an elite school in northern Virginia, where she learns that every person can be categorized, and each category influenced by a different set of words. In order to remain unpersuadeable, she can never let anyone truly know her--which is all fine and dandy until she falls in love.

Armed with the knowledge of the school, a fierce desire to be left to her own devices and a broken heart, Emily is a force to be reckoned with--and reckon they will. Except, all of a sudden, it's unclear who, exactly, "they" are. Who is on what side? And what are they fighting for--and against?

Max Barry, author of two previous novels, has created a world in Lexicon that is stunning and spellbinding, weaving a fast-paced novel that is as smart as it is action-packed. Written before Snowden's name was known across the globe, Barry's novel also raises key questions about data, privacy and identity--who is tracking what, and what trails do we leave in our virtual--and non-virtual--lives? It is a story that is at once hard to read but also impossible to put down, rushing at a breakneck pace to a thoughtful, and thought-provoking, conclusion.

Don't miss this one. Just make sure you have a whole weekend free before you start it, to be safe.

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Lexicon | Max Barry | Penguin | Hardcover | May 2013 | 400 pages

Septemb-Eyre: Chapters I-XI

A quarter of the way through Jane Eyre, and I can already see why so many people hold this book so dear.

Poor, poor Jane, and her poor, unfortunate circumstances. First, she is orphaned and locked in a cupboard under the stairs by this horrible family named the Dursleys and locked in the nursery by this horrible family named the Reeds who are forced to look after her against their will. When she turns out to be a wizard refuses to be silenced or back down against Dudley John Reed*, she is sent to a school for wayward girls where they must eat terrible porridge and freeze their toes off and get beaten with brooms.

Even though things are looking up at the end of Chapter XI, I've got a sneaking suspicion this state of happiness is not meant to last in Jane Eyre's world.

What struck me most about Jane throughout each of these trying situations was her terrible, incredible sense of justice. She argues with the Reeds, with her teachers, and with her dear friend Helen that she could not possibly back down in a situation in which she felt herself to be in the right:

"You are good to those who are good to you. It is all I ever desire to be. If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way; they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should--so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again."

Now that is a 10-year-old who knows her own mind. But then again, she doesn't, always, for she continually puts so much stock in what others think of her; her sense of justice is completely tied up in her sense of how other people view her.

I've never read this, but I have a feeling that may get complicated for her down the road, single, unattractive, passionate girl that she is.

And also, what's up with the "circumstance of ghostliness" that accompanies the "curious cachination" (love that turn of phrase, even f spellcheck doesn't think "cachination" is a word)? Is Jane Eyre a book I could have put on my RIP VIII list?

For those reading for the first time, what did you find most noticeable about Jane?

For those re-reading, what stood out to you the second time through?

Reminder: If you're reading ahead or you've already read the book, please try to avoid spoilers for those of us who are new to the story!



Next week: Chapters XII-XXI.

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*I mean, really, the Reeds must be the original Dursleys. What part of Bronte's description of John Reed does not remind you of Dudley?

"John Reed was a school boy of fourteen years old...large but stout for his age, with a dingy and unwholesome skin; thick lineaments in spacious visage, heavy limbs and large extremities. He gorged himself habitually at table, which made him bilious... He ought now to have been at school; but his mamma had taken him home for a month or two, 'on account of his delicate health.' Mr Miles, the schoolmaster, affirmed that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats sent him from home; but the mother's heart turned from an opinion so harsh, and inclined to the more refined idea that John's sallowness was owing to over-application, and, perhaps, to pining after home."

Book Review: Brief Encounters with the Enemy, by Said Sayrafiezadeh

This review originally ran in the Friday August 16th issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. If you don't already subscribe, sign up here to receive a bi-weekly dose of readerly goodness in your inbox.

Brief Encounters with the Enemy, a collection of linked short stories from Said Sayrafiezadeh (When Skateboards Will Be Free), centers on a nameless American town at war with a nameless enemy. Sayrafiezadeh's stories follow the natural arc of war, starting with allusions to the war as something that could happen, shifting to something that will happen and finally to something that is happening.

Though it is tempting to try to identify the city and the enemy, the anonymity of both ultimately works to Sayrafiezadeh's advantage. With the exception of "Brief Encounter with the Enemy," in which a soldier recounts his boredom with the war, his misguided reasons for enlisting and his first--and only--encounter with enemy forces, none of these stories depict the war itself. It's the people affected by the war who are the focus, from the amateur cartographer who struggles to find work in an uncertain economy to the illegal immigrant stressing over deportation on a daily basis and the call center employee who watches jealously as his co-worker is celebrated for enlisting.

The stories tell of a world rocked by war and steeped in uncertainty. Through it all, though, regular, daily life keeps ticking along: workers still ask for raises, men still try to get laid, people still look for better work, shoplifters still shoplift. Sayrafiezadeh's collection skews heavily toward a masculine perspective, but still manages to capture the simultaneous enormity and normality of a country at war.

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Brief Encounters with the Enemy | Said Sayrafiezadeh | Dial Press | Hardcover | August 2013

Late to the Party: RIP VIII

I'm struggling from book overwhelmitude of late. I have so many piles of books in so many places in so many different stacks that I sometimes don't even know where to begin. In an effort to focus myself over the next two months, I've decided (albeit belatedly) to join up in the RIP VIII Reading Challenge, hosted by Carl at Stainless Steel Droppings:

I'll be aiming to read four books that fall within the stated RIP categories (mystery, suspense, thriller, dark fantasy, gothic, supernatural, horror). Here's my list of titles to choose from, all of which I already own:

With the exception of Dracula, none of these are in storage at the moment, and I have 25 boxes of books in storage. See what I mean by "overwhelmitude"?

Looking Ahead: September Highlights

September! Seasonal changes! And also the beginning of the big fall publishing push. October is generally a bigger month for new releases, but that doesn't mean September is looking light. Below, a few September books I'm dying to share with you (some I can't wait to read, some I've already read and just can't wait to talk about with others):

The Bones of Paris, by Laurie R. King (Bantam, Sept 10th): King is known for her Sherlock Holmes novels, but The Bones of Paris is actually the second in a separate, non-Holmesian series featuring ex-FBI-agent-turned-PI Harris Stuyvesant. Set in 1929 Paris, Stuyvesant sets out to investigate the case of a missing girl (one he happens to have taken to bed) and finds himself drawn into the Surrealist art movement and what could be a series of unexplained deaths... King's experience writing novels based on the Holmes canon has clearly influenced her standalone mysteries, as she plants details and clues that lead Stuyvesant--and readers--on a path to find out whodunit.

Maddaddam, by Margaret Atwood (Nan A. Talese, Sept 3rd): The much-anticipated conclusion to Atwood's Maddaddam trilogy, which started with Oryx and Crake and followed with The Year of the Flood. The first two in this trilogy are concurrent stories, giving different perspectives of the same events; Maddaddam picks up where they left off and promises to fill in some holes in the story. I'm about halfway through and on the fence on this, as I'm finding it lagging at the moment, but it's impossible not to include an Atwood novel in a list of anticipated titles when there's a new one to be had.

Seven for a Secret, by Lyndsay Faye (Amy Einhorn, Sept 17th): I promise there are books in September that are not series continuations, but this isn't one of them. Faye picks up the story of Timothy Wilde, whose experiences in the newly-formed police force in 1840s Manhattan started in The Gods of Gotham. If the new one is anything like the first in the series, Faye will reconstruct an era of New York City history that I just adore, and give us a good story to boot. 

Burial Rites, by Hannah Kent (Little, Brown, Sept 10th): A debut novel (see? Not a series continuation!) set in Iceland, promising to recount the story of the last woman hanged for murder in that country. This was a much-buzzed about book at BEA this year, and I'm sorry not to have gotten to the galley of it earlier. But if it's half as good as everyone promises it is, I know we're all in for a treat.

Wonder Women: Sex, Power, and the Quest for Perfection, by Debora Spar (Sarah Crichton, Sept 17th): I may be the last feminist in the world not to have read Lean In, but I'm definitely going to look for Wonder Women when it comes out. Spar sets out to explore how women's lives have--and have not--changed since the women's lib movement, and how that impacts a generation of young women who are told this is no longer something they need to worry about. I. Can't. Wait.