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.