Messy by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan

Max hung back from following them into the classroom. She felt jittery and weird. Not at the prospect of spending more marinating in her and her classmates' mutual hostility--sometimes that could be invigorating--but because after this, she had a meeting with YourNewItGirl@gmail.com. At It Girl's suggestion, they were meeting for dinner at Mel's Dine-In on Sunset to see if they had "a copacetic rapport." Max focused her nervous energy on retying her Doc Marten boots and trying to brush the fine film of chalk dust off her black skirt. It had never recovered from this morning's blackboard race in calculus. Nobody else had come out of class looking like a powdered doughnut. Maybe designer pants repelled dirt in a way H&M's one-ply cotton could not.

-Messy 

 This was another enjoyable outing from The Fug Girls. I feel like they are pretty talented in creating characters, giving us people who behave realistically and don't just act in ways that further the plot or conform to romantic tropes. They are also very funny, which doesn't hurt. I am very much looking forward to their current work-in-progress, which looks to be a Kate-and-Will inspired royal romance with an American twist. How could you resist?

Up next: The Laughing Policeman by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö

Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan

Penumbra sells used books, and they are in such uniformly excellent condition that they might as well be new. He buys them during the day--you only sell to the man with his name on the windows--and he must be a tough customer. He doesn't seem to pay much attention to the bestseller lists. His inventory is eclectic; there's no evidence of pattern or purpose other than, I suppose, his own personal taste. So, no teenage wizards or vampire police here. That's a shame, because this is exactly the kind of store that makes you want to buy a book about a teenage wizard. This is the kind of store that makes you want to be a teenage wizard.

-Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore

Now that I'm writing about them back to back, I'm finding that Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore is an excellent book to weigh against The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making.  While the former doesn't have the vaguely timeless nature of the latter--Google is a significant part of the story, after all--it was more inventive and definitely more absorbing, while maintaining elements of the classic quest. I didn't like the love interest as much as I suspect I was supposed to, but I enjoyed the writing quite a bit and would be happy to read more by Robin Sloan.

Up next: Messy by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente

Once upon a time, a girl named September grew very tired indeed of her parents' house, where she washed the same pink-and-yellow teacups and matching gravy boats every day, slept on the same embroidered pillow, and played with the same small and amiable dog. Because she had been born in May, and because she had a mole on her left cheek, and because her feet were very large and ungainly, the Green Wind took pity on her and flew to her window one evening just after her twelfth birthday.

-The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making 

I'm ridiculously, ridiculously behind on posting, and with NaNoWriMo on the horizon, I figured I ought to put up something sooner rather than later. The next few posts are going to be pretty bare bones, though. I mostly enjoyed The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making--although, whew, that title. I appreciate that sort of thing to some extent, but I couldn't make up my mind about the more twee elements of the book. It was a classic fairy tale, and clever, and hit all the beats it needed to, but I couldn't help but feel it was lacking in heart. Like it was an exercise in creating a fairy tale more than a genuine fairy tale. That being said, for whatever reason I found the story of the key enormously affecting. Wouldn't be opposed to reading more by this author, but I wouldn't necessarily seek it out either.

Up next: Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan

How I Became a Famous Novelist by Steve Hely

GOALS AS A NOVELIST:

1. FAME--Realistic amount. Enough to open new avenues of sexual opportunity. Personal assistant to read my mail, grocery shop, and so on.
2. FINANCIAL COMFORT--Never have a job again. Retire. Spend rest of life lying around, pursuing hobbies (boating? skeet shooting?).
3. STATELY HOME BY OCEAN (OR SCENIC LAKE)--Spacious library, bay windows, wet bar. HD TV, discreetly placed. Comfortable couch.
4. HUMILIATE POLLY AT HER WEDDING.

-How I Became a Famous Novelist

As always, I have a formidable stack of unread books sitting on my shelf--a bit of an obligation, but mostly a comfort, since not having a book to read is a none-too-secret terror of mine. Thus I had no reason to pick up How I Became a Famous Novelist at St. Vincent de Paul a few months back, except I thought that I would regret it if I didn't.

How I Became a Famous Novelist is the story of Pete Tarslaw, a twenty-something living in Boston and working as a professional polisher of school admission essays. He's--and I don't think there's a way to put this nicely--a loser. When he gets an invitation to his ex-girlfriend's wedding, though, it spurs him to action. Not for any particularly selfless reason: he just wants to win the breakup.

He hits upon his plan of action while watching a soft news piece on folksy novelist Preston Brooks. He quickly sizes up the man, who never met a platitude he didn't like, as a con artist--and decides there's no reason that he can't write a book like that. No point in trying to make it good, mind. He creates a list of what elements he would need to include to make his story popular, and dreams of the fame and fortune to follow.

To his credit, he does write a book. A terrible book, from all the evidence provided, but nonetheless a book with a beginning, middle, and end. (As a NaNoWriMo participant, I realize just that is an accomplishment). How I Became a Famous Novelist then charts Pete's new career, with its highs and--more often--its lows. It's a funny ride, particularly when author Steve Hely pokes fun at the modern book scene. (His imagined titles and plots for New York Times bestsellers were amusingly believable.) While Pete himself is not particularly likeable, he's self-aware enough that the reader doesn't tire of his company, and I found the book overall to be pretty enjoyable.

Up next: The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente. (Whew, that's a mouthful.)

The Flavia de Luce Series by Alan Bradley

Sanctified cyanide
Super-quick arsenic
Higgledy-piggledy
Into the soup.
Put out the mourning lamps
Call for the coffin clamps
Teach them to trifle with
Flavia de Luce!

-The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag 

I had intended to write one entry for each book of the Flavia de Luce series--there are five so far--but it didn't work out quite like that. I love these books, so much so that it was impossible to stop after just one and record my thoughts. I went from one book right to the next with virtually no interruption, so eventually it seemed better to just tackle the series in one post, as my thoughts about the different plots would be bound to get a bit muddled. Here goes.

Flavia de Luce is a girl of nearly eleven living with her family in the small English town of Bishop's Lacey in 1950. She is an unusual child--fiercely smart, with a particular love for chemistry, and no real interest in maintaining the sort of propriety that a girl of age at that time would be expected to do. She runs wild through the village, accompanied only by her bicycle, Gladys, which formerly belonged to her long-lost mother.

Flavia's mother, Harriet, casts a long shadow over her life, though Flavia herself has no memory of her. Harriet left on a mountaineering expedition when Flavia was just one, never to return. Flavia's father retreated from the world after his wife's disappearance, seeking refuge in his collection of postage stamps. Her sisters, Ophelia and Daphne (or, as Flavia calls them, Feely and Daffy), torture Flavia with their accounts of her supposed early life, telling her she was a changeling, for example, or that she made Harriet miserable.

It's no wonder, then, that Flavia is so independent. And perhaps it should be no surprise that when she stumbles upon a dying man in her garden in the first book of the series, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, she's far from terrified. In fact, she's fascinated, and sets about to solve the mystery of his death.

She's a dab hand at it too, and over the course of the series, she acquires quite a reputation for being involved whenever the game is afoot.  Flavia combines her keen sense of hearing--inherited from her mother--with her knowledge of chemistry and her sheer moxie to get to the bottom of things. It is nothing short of a delight to read along as she puzzles out each case.

I am absolutely in awe of Alan Bradley, who has such a sure hand in guiding this series. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie was his first novel, and he created such a beautiful character in Flavia as well as such a fully realized world in Bishop's Lacey. Even if there were no mysteries, I think I would enjoy following Flavia as she rode around on Gladys and visited Denwyn Richardson or Miss Cool, or the Puddock sisters. The clever mysteries--never overly convoluted, which seems like an absolute rarity in the genre at this point--do make it all the sweeter, though.

The most recent book in the series, Speaking from Among the Bones, ends with a bit of a cliffhanger. I will be waiting most impatiently, I must admit, until I can next return to Bishop's Lacey and follow the further adventures of Flavia, her family, and the rest of the village.

Up next: How I Became A Famous Novelist by Steve Hely

PS: While looking for an image for this post, I stumbled upon this promotional video for the series: http://vimeo.com/12758978. It makes me even more excited for the eventual adaptation. (Good luck to whoever has to cast Flavia!)

Made in America by Bill Bryson

Before the 1820s, dining out was an activity reserved almost exclusively for travelers. Though it was possible to eat in hotels and taverns, there were no places dedicated to the public consumption of food for the mere pleasure of it, nor any word to describe them. Then, in 1827, a new word and concept entered American English from France: restaurant.

-Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language in the United States

If you're going to pick up a book by Bill Bryson, be prepared to learn things. So many things--truly interesting things--that there's no way you'll be able to remember everything you'd like to. (O, for a photographic memory!) You will be highly tempted to put down the book every few pages and tell anyone in the vicinity whatever nugget of trivia you've just learned. If you're reading Made in America, I hope you keep company with people with a thirst for more information about language and history.

I very much enjoyed the facts thrown at me on every page; so many that I can't even begin to recount them (though the excerpt above, with the introduction of the word restaurant, is a good example). Just as when I read Bryson's At Home, I was staggered by how many things in everyday life I'd never stopped to consider. Like how the phrase "mother of all," in the sense of the biggest of something, only dates back to the Gulf War. Who knew?

I will say Made in America isn't a page-turner--it lends itself to being read in little chunks. You could certainly put it down for a while and return to it later without losing the thread of things, I think. It took me a bit longer than expected to get through it, but it was definitely a worthwhile read. I wonder if Bryson has considered updating it, since it came out in 1994--certainly an additional chapter on the last twenty (well, nearly--gulp) years wouldn't go awry.

Up next: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

It begins with absence and desire.
It begins with blood and fear.
It begins with a discovery of witches.

-A Discovery of Witches

I think I must begin by saying that A Discovery of Witches is an excellent title for a book. I know we shouldn't judge books by their covers, but I think it's fair to be enchanted by a good title. Well played.

A Discovery of Witches is the story of Diana Bishop, a historian working at Oxford. She is also, as it happens, a witch, though she does her best to suppress her natural abilities. Nonetheless, one day she calls up a most unusual book from the stacks at the library--a clearly magical book--and despite her best efforts, she can't deny her heritage any longer. She quickly becomes the center of the magical world, with witches, vampires, and daemons alike clamoring to get a hold of the book, long thought lost.

One vampire, Matthew Clairmont, takes a particular interest. He's an esteemed doctor at Oxford, an expert in multiple fields. He's also devastatingly handsome, bien sûr. His destiny is quickly tangled up with Diana's, to an extent that seems preordained. The story becomes one of supernatural romance and intrigue.

The romance develops quite rapidly--clearly an intentional move by Deborah Harkness. It's not supposed to feel like a traditional romance, but I think the rush made it a little harder for me to understand Diana and Matthew as characters. At a certain point I just went with it, and the last couple hundred pages flew by. Harkness also did an excellent job setting up her sequel, which does sound quite intriguing. I will certainly be on the lookout for it once I've put a bigger dent in the pile of books I already have.

Up next: Made in America by Bill Bryson

Dead Ever After by Charlaine Harris

The devil was eating beignets, fastidiously, when the businessman walked up to the outside table.

-Dead Ever After 

With Dead Ever After, we bid adieu to Miss Sookie Stackhouse, telepath and waitress extraordinaire. Quite a lot has happened to Sookie in the two-year period Charlaine Harris's novels covers. She's known love and death (probably more of the latter than the former, sadly). She's become acquainted with all sorts of fantastic creatures, for better or worse. She's gotten at least a little suntanning in.

Dead Ever After begins with Sookie trying to navigate the tricky politics surrounding her relationship  with Eric, and things only get more dire when she's accused of murder. There's a fair amount of reaching back to the earlier books, particularly in terms of the familiar characters who pop up all over the place. It's definitely not a novel one could pick up without having read the other 12--or at least I couldn't see that being a particularly enjoyable experience.

The story is undeniably over-stuffed, and I'm not sure I love the direction that Charlaine Harris decided to go in with regard to Sookie's love life, though it's not implausible. I don't think it will stand up as one of the best books of the series, but, that having been said, I still enjoyed spending time in Sookie's company.* There's something so comfortable and cozy about Charlaine Harris's books, despite the mayhem that inevitably ensues, and I think a lot of it is just Sookie. I'll probably read Harris's follow-up on the other characters of Bon Temps, which is to be published this fall, and perhaps I'll try one of her other series as well. For now, though, I still have close to fifteen unread books on my shelves, so I  won't be picking up anything new.** At least we still have the weird and wild True Blood.

Up next: Continuing with fantasy, A Discovery of Witches.

*I would be curious to go back through my posts and see how many times I've said that.

**Unless it looks really good. Or I've wanted to read it for a long time. Or, or, or...

Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon

Archy felt blood in his cheeks, the shame of the ponderer in a world that urged decision. A deliberator nipped at and harried by the hounds of haste. Professing in his heart like some despised creed the central truth of life: The only decision a man will never regret is the one he never made.

-Telegraph Avenue

It's nice to have a history with an author, isn't it? Not just having read a lot of books by that author, but to have memories connected with them. That's how I feel about Michael Chabon. I remember picking up The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and being so absolutely wowed by it that I emailed him. It was the kind of ridiculous, flowery email that you might expect a 19-year-old to write, and he very kindly responded. I remember taking The Mysteries of Pittsburgh with me when I went to Italy later that same year. I remember when he did a reading at my college and signed my copy of Summerland, which I had bought at the university bookstore. That's a history, I think.

When I was thinking about what I wanted to say about Telegraph Avenue, I remembered all of that. From page one, the writing was everything I could have wanted--on a sentence-to-sentence level, Telegraph Avenue is beautiful, funny, and true. Just on that first page, there's this description of Archy Stallings--"moonfaced, mountainous, moderately stoned." I didn't intend to wax rhapsodic here, but that's pretty near perfect if you ask me.

The story--of Archy and his partner Nat, their wives and kids, and their business, Brokeland Records--shares a lot of the hallmarks of other Chabon stories. There's the obsession (with vinyl here, as opposed to comics or baseball), the quirky characters (shades of Wonder Boys), the sexual exploration. I think I might have been more absorbed in the story of I'd connected to any one part of it better--jazz, Berkeley, kung fu--but I still enjoyed it. The characterization is particularly good--I'd love to have a follow-up just about Nat's son, Julie. Regardless of what Chabon does next, I'll be along for the ride.

Up next: Dead Ever After, the last of the Sookie Stackhouse novels.

Broken Harbor by Tana French

Richie closed the door behind us. He stayed beside it, sheaf of pointless paper hanging forgotten from one hand, eyes skittery as a corner boy's. That was what he looked like: some malnourished scumbag hunched against a graffitied wall, standing lookout for small-time dealers in exchange for a fix. I had been beginning to think of this man as my partner. His skinny shoulders braced against mine had begun to feel like something that belonged. The feeling had been a good one, a warm one. Both of us made me sick.

-Broken Harbor

Let's try this again, shall we?

So, I've missed a bit. (A year is a bit, yes? A long bit, but still.) I tackled Proust for the first time, finally conquered Team of Rivals, and enjoyed books by Mary Roach, Jo Nesbø, and Gillian Flynn. I will probably never get around to writing about any of them, and that's okay, I think. Fresh start.

It's fitting to start back with Tana French, a perennial favorite of mine. Broken Harbor follows Mick "Scorcher" Kennedy, another member of the Dublin Murder Squad. Mick has shown up in previous books by French, though I must confess he didn't make much of an impression on me. Still, I think you're bound to remember a nickname like Scorcher.

Mick is called up to investigate a grisly case in the once-booming housing development of Brianstown. A family has been attacked, with definite fatalities. It's a high-profile case, a chance of redemption for Mick, who botched an investigation a few years earlier. It also (in classic French fashion) forces Mick to confront a painful time from his past, back when Brianstown was a seaside holiday spot called Broken Harbor.

The case was a bit of a toughie for me--I don't love reading about murdered children, funnily enough--but overall I found Broken Harbor to be more satisfying than Faithful Place. It's sad, to be sure. If there's one thing I've learned about Tana French books, it's that a happy ending is relative. Her detectives may solve their cases, but it's always at a grievous cost. Her books are fantastically written, perfectly paced, and deeply sad. Quite a recommendation, I know.

Up next: Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon. Go big or go home, yeah?

Just Kids by Patti Smith

Finally, by the sea, where God is everywhere, I gradually calmed. I stood looking at the sky. The clouds were the colors of a Raphael. A wounded rose. I had the sensation he had painted it himself. You will see him. You will know him. You will know his hand. These words came to me and I knew I would one day see a sky drawn by Robert's hand.

-Just Kids 

I can't say I knew much about Patti Smith before beginning Just Kids. I could have picked her out of a lineup, sure, and I knew of Horses. I'm pretty sure I've heard "Gloria." That's about all I had.

And I wouldn't have done much better with Robert Mapplethorpe, frankly, despite having majored in Art History. I knew photographs of flowers, and knew of some others that were somehow scandalous (though I don't know if I saw any slides of those ones, to be honest). I knew he'd died young.

So there was a lot to take in in Just Kids, which traces the relationship Smith and Mappelthorpe had, both romantic and artistic. It's also a portrait of New York City at a very particular time, a time of The Factory and the Hotel Chelsea and automats. I warmed quickly to Smith, but I especially loved reading about the city--a place I know--in a totally new way. It was really amazing to watch how Smith grew as an artist, from poet to rock and roll star, and how she encountered all the bright lights of that era in New York.  I loved hearing about her place in Brooklyn, about her going to Blick's Art Supply, about the bare-bones spaces she shared with Mapplethorpe in Chelsea (no bathroom, for one). In addition to recounting her history with Mapplethorpe quite beautifully, she also captures a moment in time. And I must say, I got teary when I read the passage I quoted above.

Up next: Almost nearly caught up! Drop Dead Healthy by A.J. Jacobs, which I just finished this afternoon.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

"I don't know what I'm looking for," Tara responds, and for a moment her face crumples as though she might burst into tears, but then she composes herself. "Ethan, do you sometimes feel like you are dreaming, all the time?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"I am finding it difficult to discern between asleep and awake," Tara says, tugging at her lace cuffs again. "I do not like being left in the dark. I am not particularly fond of believing in impossible things."

-The Night Circus 

The Night Circus tells the story of two unusual people, Marco and Celia. As children, they were selected to participate in a game--game doesn't seem like exactly the right word, given the nature of the thing. They spend years training, enduring gloomy, lonely childhoods in order to further their accomplishments in a very specialized field: magic. Not sleight of hand, but true, proper magic. Turning paper into birds, conjuring landscapes out of thin air. Magic.

A stage is set for them to compete. It's called the Night Circus, designed to be a spectacle like none other. Not just one tent, it's a series of tents, each more marvelous than the last. Only Marco and Celia know the true purpose of the circus, a chance for them to show their talents. They construct ever more elaborate illusions, but more to marvel at each other's skill than to really try to best their opponent. For Marco and Celia don't hate each other, far from it. Instead they find that the tie that has bound them for so long has bloomed into True Love (You know, The Princess Bride kind. Pirates and fire swamps and even death cannot tear them apart kind of love.)

I tried to keep my expectations low going into The Night Circus, because it had been fairly hyped and, even though I was quite intrigued by the premise, it seemed like a difficult concept to fully realize in execution. Kudos to Erin Morgenstern, though, for some amazing work. She really created a whole world that I loved visiting. I find it really remarkable that this is her debut novel, and must admit that I find it particularly cool that she initially developed it as a NaNoWriMo project. It's pretty inspiring stuff for any wannabe writers out there.

Up next: Just Kids by Patti Smith

Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter by Tom Franklin

The Rutherford girl had been missing for eight days when Larry Ott returned home and found a monster waiting in his house.

-Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter*

A girl disappears in small-town Mississippi. Suspicion falls, unsurprisingly, on the last person known to have seen her, but there's not enough evidence to try a case. The years go by--decades, even--and the trail runs cold. Then there's another disappearance.

What are the odds, someone notes, of the two cases being unrelated? With no other leads, the police are suspicious of Larry Ott, the town loner--and the chief person of interest in the older case. Things get more complicated when Larry is rushed to the hospital, the victim of a gunshot wound. With Larry in a coma, it's difficult to tell if the wound was self-inflicted or not. While Larry lingers in unconsciousness, the police are forced to wait.

One officer's wait is particularly grueling. His name is Silas Jones, and, once upon a time, he and Larry Ott were friends. It's not a fact he advertises, considering the low regard in which Larry is held in town, but it does color his feelings about the case. He wrestles with his feelings as he waits awkwardly at Larry's bedside.

The reader waits as well, but there's plenty to keep you occupied until you finally learn the particulars of Larry's shooting. The narrative shifts between past and present, between Larry and Silas, and slowly we work out how things turned out as they did. While it's not hard to figure out the perpetrator of the present-day crime, it's still interesting to see the details filled in--and the cold case draws the reader in quite well. All in all, it's pretty riveting, and I admire the way Franklin was able to tie things up.

It's impressive to me that the most striking part of Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter is the characterization. Both Larry and Silas are well-realized and believable, sympathetic and flawed. While I was undoubtedly absorbed in the book because I wanted to know the resolution to the cases, I also became more and more deeply invested in Larry and Silas as the story went on. I would definitely be interested in reading more by Tom Franklin.

Up next: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

*I was totally unaware that this mnemonic device was regional. I don't normally think of myself as Southern in any way, but I've long enjoyed this trick for spelling Mississippi.

Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America by Leslie Knope

The historical portions of this book were largely written from memory by The Author, then fact-checked by both Bill Haggerty of the Pawnee Historical Society and a team of researchers from Pawnee Community College, who proclaimed them to be "shockingly accurate." There's really no reason for The Author to include that fact here, except The Author is feeling a little braggy and she wants everyone to know that she basically typed this from memory.

-Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America 

So, here's the thing: I love Parks and Recreation. It's one of the best shows currently on the air, after all. Because the show is so funny, and because I'm a TV nerd, I was psyched to read Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America, which actually featured in the third season of the show.

But I read it very quickly about a month ago, so I must admit that the details have already faded from my memory.  It was certainly funny, and very much captured the voice of Leslie Knope (unsurprisingly, since it was helmed by Parks and Rec writers). It has a lot of information that is sure to appeal to anyone who appreciates the show's humor (a list of town mottoes over the years, a history of Newport family, etc.) If you're the sort of person who's inclined to pick up a book like this, I imagine that you'd like it.

Other than that, not much else to add, I'm afraid. I think I must press on if I'm ever to have any chance of catching up on posts.

Up next: Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter by Tom Franklin.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling

Bren and I befriended each other early on, became inseparable through a shared sense of humor, a trove of nonsensical private jokes, and had the same enemies within the Drama Department. We clung to each other with blind loyalty, like Lord Voldemort and his snake, Nagini. I, of course, was Nagini. If you messed with one of us, you knew you messed with both of us, and Voldemort was going to cast a murder spell on you, or Nagini was going to chomp on your jugular. It was such a good, dramatic time.

-Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? 

Oh, dear. I am disastrously, disastrously behind here. Things have been fun & busy here in real life, which has left me with slightly less time to ruminate about books. Still, I hate to abandon things, so I'll try to scrape together some--probably abbreviated--posts.

I wanted to come up with some cute intro for Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, something to explain how much I like Mindy Kaling or how much I'd been looking forward to reading her book. Unfortunately, all I seem to be able to come up with are cliches and anecdotes about cupcakes, which I'm going to skip in the interest in keeping things moving.

I read this book quite quickly--I think I read the first chapter before going to bed one night, then finished the rest the next day. It's light and (unsurprisingly) funny, the tone conversational and very engaging. Kaling writes about her childhood, her college life, and her struggle to make it in New York post-graduation. She has the killer combination of being both extremely funny and extremely dedicated, so (spoiler alert!) even given the difficulty of the industry, it's easy to see why she's been as successful as she has. If she didn't seem so awesome, I'd have to be a little jealous. Instead I'll just content myself by enjoying her Twitter feed and looking forward to her new fall pilot. I could definitely see rereading this one in the future, especially if I were in need of a pick-me-up.

Up next: Got on a little comedy kick and went with Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America.

A Darker Domain by Val McDermid

"We're cold cases, Dave. We don't process fresh inquiries." Karen rolled her eyes at Phil, smirking at her obvious frustration.

"It's not exactly fresh, Inspector. This guy went missing twenty-two years ago."

Karen straightened up in her chair. "Twenty-two years ago? And they've only just got round to reporting it?"

"That's right. So does that make it cold, or what?"

Technically, Karen knew Cruickshank should refer the woman to CID. But she'd always been a sucker for anything that made people shake their heads in bemused disbelief. Long shots were what got her juices flowing. Following that instinct had brought her two promotions in three years, leap-frogging peers and making colleagues uneasy. "Send her up, Dave. I'll have a word with her."

-A Darker Domain 

Karen Pirie is a detective in the cold cases department in Fife, Scotland, and in A Darker Domain, she takes charge of two unusual cases. One, illustrated in the passage above--a missing persons case, twenty-two years later--is too intriguing to pass up, and she takes it on without her boss's knowledge. The second is the reopening of a high-profile case from around the same time--the murder of heiress Catriona Maclennan Grant and the disappearance of her son, Adam. Catriona's father, Brodie Grant, still blames the police for botching the case so many years before, and Karen has her work cut out for her, juggling that investigation with the one that's off the books.

I'd never read a Val McDermid book before, but I understand that she's a respected mystery writer, and I can see why. I quickly became pretty absorbed in the two cases, both of which were trickily well plotted. McDermid did a nice job of giving the reader just enough to puzzle over without telegraphing things too much or withholding too much vital information. The ending was realistic, I suppose, but quite cynical and a little abrupt. I wished it could have been a little happier.

I would definitely be interested in reading more by McDermid. I just watched the first episode of Wire in the Blood recently, based on her series of books, and it was quite good. I have more than a few unread mysteries to go, though, so it might be a while.

Up next: Needed a change of pace from all the mayhem--the perfect time for Mindy Kaling's Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?

The Most Dangerous Thing by Laura Lippman

It isn't his fault. He wants to be sober. He strung together two years this time, chastened by the incident at his younger daughter's first birthday party. And he managed to stay sober even after Lori kicked him out last month. But the fact is, he has been faking it for months, stalling out where he always stalls out on the twelve steps, undermined by all that poking, poking, poking, that insistence on truth, on coming clean. Making amends. Sobriety--real sobriety, as opposed to the collection of sober days Gordon sometimes manages to put together--wants to much from him.

-The Most Dangerous Thing

 Five kids--Gwen, Mickey, Tim, Sean, and Go-Go--share a few idyllic months exploring the woods around their hometown in Maryland. Then something terrible happens, so terrible that it splinters the group permanently.

Decades pass. There are marriages, divorces, children. Then Go-Go dies in a car accident, possibly a suicide.  Go-Go had led a troubled life since that one awful night, and his death dredges up the memories that group (and their parents) had worked so hard to forget. Once Gwen, in particular, decides to start unraveling the story of that long-ago night, she discovers some things that rock her understanding of the past.

There were some very strong aspects to this novel. I liked that Laura Lippman took what could have been a fairly conventional premise for a mystery and made it infinitely more interesting by exploring multiple points of view, both in the past and present. I especially thought it was a smart move to include the viewpoints of the parents, which certainly made the story more complicated and interesting. Ultimately, I'm not sure that I totally bought the story's resolution, but I appreciated the exploration of the misunderstandings and mistakes that can lay the ground for tragedy. 

Up next: Continuing with the mystery trend, A Darker Domain by Val McDermid.

The Snowman by Jo Nesbø

The snow in the yard reflected enough light for him to make out the snowman down below. It looked alone. Someone should have given it a cap and scarf. And maybe a broomstick to hold. At that moment the moon slid from behind a cloud. The black row of teeth came into view. And the eyes. Jonas automatically sucked in his breath and recoiled two steps. The pebble-eyes were gleaming. And they were not staring into the house. They were looking up. Up here. Jonas drew the curtains and crept back into bed.

-The Snowman 

I was so excited to read the next Harry Hole novel--until I realized it wasn't the next Harry Hole novel. I was still happy to read The Snowman, to be sure, but it did take a little bit of the shine off when I realized that somehow The Redeemer had been lost in the shuffle. I'm still not sure why The Redeemer is so unavailable, but I'll get a hold of it somehow--when I'm in London this summer, if nothing else, though it might be hard to wait until then!

Leaving the mysterious publication order aside, The Snowman was another satisfying outing from Jo Nesbø. This time around, Harry's extensive knowledge of serial killers is put to good use when he finds himself on the trail of a criminal who kills women--all mothers--who have cheated on their husbands. The killer is as cold as his icy moniker would suggest, and the crimes are bloodier and more disturbing than I recall from previous Harry Hole stories. Unsurprisingly, the denouement is mind-boggling. I find it quite curious that this is the first Harry Hole story slated to be adapted for film--by Martin Scorsese, no less-- as I simply cannot imagine actually seeing the end of the story on screen. That's not to say it wasn't gripping--it absolutely was--but it also got pretty ludicrous.

Obviously, I'm on board for more Harry Hole books. I was quite keen to keep reading at the end of The Snowman, particularly seeing how badly Harry had been shaken by this case. I'll have to be in suspense a bit longer, though, I suppose, since I do want to read The Redeemer before moving on.

Up next: I was hungry for more mystery, so I went with Laura Lippman's The Most Dangerous Thing.

Deadwood by Pete Dexter

Charley had never seen anybody throw like Bill. It was magic, the way things connected for him. Bill climbed into the wagon and came out with a bottle. He pulled the cork with his teeth and spit it onto the ground, signaling his intentions. It was a bottle without a future. He took a drink and handed it to Charley. Charley wiped off the lip and joined him. The whores were shrieking again.

-Deadwood 

Ah, Deadwood. I'd been wanting to read it since I watched the HBO series the summer before last. Haven broken my tibia that June, I had a lot of free time and very limited mobility--you can imagine how much I enjoyed being absorbed into the show's colorful world. The book, by Pete Dexter, offers a different take on the characters (many of whom are historical figures), but is still quite good in its own right.

Much like the show, Deadwood deals with the establishment of the eponymous town in the Black Hills in the 1870s.  We see how characters as different as lawman Seth Bullock and weary legend Wild Bill Hickock are drawn here, and how they survive (or don't). The stories run the gamut from preaching to poker to pestilence--everything you might expect from the Old West, I suppose, but at some point that became enormously compelling to me. Blame the show, I guess.

The one issue I would take with Pete Dexter's take is the way he handles the story of Solomon Star.  In the series--and in real life, as far as I can ascertain--Star was a smart, practical businessman who was unfailingly levelheaded and honest. Dexter's Star is as well...up to a certain point. And it's not that I can't imagine Star doing the things Dexter proposes, exactly, but I'm not happy to do so. It was just a bit too much for me.

Overall, though, I enjoyed it, and I thought Dexter's prose in particular was fantastic. I'd definitely be interested in checking out more of his work.

Up next: Jo Nesbo's The Snowman.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

I go downstairs wearing a thick Christian smile. Living at home, whenever I want to leave Longleaf, I have to ask Mother if I can borrow her car. Which means she'll ask me where I'm going. Which means I have to lie to her on a daily basis, which is in itself enjoyable but a little degrading at the same time.

-The Help

As snobby as it sounds, I must admit that I've grown wary of bestsellers. For every Kite Runner, worthy of the good word of mouth, it seems that there are three treacly tales full of trite, mediocre writing. (I'll be kind and avoid naming names.) Thus it took me a while to get to The Help--and indeed I wasn't convinced I should read it until the movie started getting good buzz as well.

The Help centers on the lives of women living in Jackson, Mississippi in the throes of the civil rights movement. One of them, Skeeter Phelan, is an aspiring writer in search of a worthy subject.  She hits upon an idea: interview the women who work in the homes of her upper-class white peers. It's a good idea, but a dangerous one. The Help chronicles Skeeter's journey to interview these women, as well as the lives of two women who will become her most important contributors: Aibileen and Minnie. Strong, thoughtful Aibileen has weathered the death of her only son, and has grown weary of the injustice she's seen in her life. Headstrong Minnie is more reluctant to talk to Skeeter, but her story of sweet revenge becomes essential to the book. Together, the three women offer a compelling look into another world, a world that would be almost unbelievable if it hadn't actually existed.

Perhaps because it seems both so familiar and so alien, I find that chapter in American history to be fascinating. I became utterly absorbed in the stories of Skeeter, Aibilieen, and Minnie, and had a hard time putting The Help down. I recently watched the film as well, and while it (unsurprisingly) had to sacrifice some of the novel's detail to achieve a workable running time, it was still quite enjoyable. A pleasant surprise in every way.

Up next: After a couple of false starts with other books, I'm currently enjoying Deadwood.