12. The Tattooed Map by Barbara Hodgson

Hodgson, Barbara. The Tattooed Map: A Novel. San Francisco: Chronicle, 1995.

During the summer, when I'm not teaching, I work at a used book store in Decatur. Most people who work there spend time talking to customers, running the registers, kibitzing with coworkers, or, if they have to, shelving. I'm different in this. I love shelving. All I do is sort and shelve books for five to seven hours, one day a week, usually Sunday, and I'm happy with that. In fact, when asked to run the register, it usually ends in disaster with the register squealing at me and the customer looking at me as though they wish they could figure out a way to snatch their cash out of my incompetent hands without seeming rudeness. (It's the South you must remember. That rude consideration causes all sorts of problems.)

So yeah, I'm pretty useless. Unless you want to find something. There is a tendency these days to organize a used bookstore like mega-chain would be organized. Nice neat computer database, organized inventories, and aseptically clean shelving mixed with clearly delineated sections with mass produced signage. A very useful trend if the goal is to force things into easy to locate pigeon-holes. However, I've noticed it kills the inherent charm of the dusty sleepy used bookstore where I used to lose whole afternoons finding weird books wedged into odd corners. The place I part-time still has it's 'inherent charm' intact. Great if you want to browse, but a disaster if you are desperately in search of something. That's where I come in. When I sort and shelve books, I can't help but turn them over in my hands, open them up, flip through pages, read a couple lines, and notice interesting things. I don't think I ever walked out of the place without forfeiting my paycheck to the increase of my ever growing book collection.

All of this eventually works around to The Tattooed Map which was acquired more or less on a whim. It was one of those books that people picked up, carried to obscure corners of the store, and left lying on the floor or in a random bookshelf. There was a period of time where I was shelving that same copy of the book every shift that I worked. It was understandable actually. Everything about the way it looks makes a person want to pick it up: it's an odd size, has tantalizing middle east photos on the cover, and is full of pages chaotic photo collages interspersed with text and handwritten notes. In short, it's a fantastically laid out piece of work.

The story is laid out in the style of journal entries. In the beginning they are written by a woman named Lydia who is exploring North Africa with her boyfriend Chris. Chris buys and imports furniture and art. Lydia seems to be a photo journalist. Over the course of the book a mysterious map begins to appear on Lydia's wrist and arm. Eventually she disappears and the narrative is picked up by Chris.

It's an odd story and a quick read. The photo-ephemera adds to the narrative instead of distracting. I'm not sure how I feel about the ending. Disappointed that it's over, of course. I feel confused about how it ended although I feel sure that was intentional. There's a tantalizing sense of something missed, like a puzzle to be unraveled if only I could figure out the pieces.

11. The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle

Beagle, Peter S. The Last Unicorn. New York: ROC, 1968.

Like many people my age, my first exposure to The Last Unicorn was the 1982 animated movie. I loved it. I watched it over and over. I think my parents got sick of it. It was this wonderful sad story of loneliness and bravery. It's full of magic and grand gestures. A young charlatan magician and beauty challenged shrew the only defenders of the magical unicorn against the evil red bull, who they eventually triumph over in beautiful bittersweet moment.

The book is much better.

While the movie did manage to maintain the spirit of the book, it failed to convey the multiple story lines and many of the more interesting facets. The unicorn is meant to be something ethereal and eternal; the spirit of spring and innocence. Innocent but not naive. Something completely immortal but of a place and only that place. And yet, curiosity and bravery pull her from her place and thrusts her out in the world where she is vulnerable. The wizard, Schmendrick, has a story line of his own, as does Molly Grue. All of these threads twined together in a fantastical story that is one part fairytale, one part morality play, and one part self-aware analysis of story structure.

10. Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite

Brite, Poppy Z. Lost Souls. New York: Dell, 1992.

Ok. I'll admit it. I had never heard of Poppy Z. Brite until Ryan said I might like her writing. He's never read any of her books and isn't terribly sure about what she writes other than 'she writes vampire novels.' He was basing his recommendation on A) knowing that I like to read vampire novels [of the romance variety] as mind candy and B) many people who also have my shameful taste in mind candy also seem to like her books.

*ok, deep breath*


Positives:

• Brite's writing style is highly polished
• the characters are well described
• the pacing supurb
• the narrative is layered and the multiple layers work well together
• a non conventional interpretation of vampires
  

Negatives:

• apparently vampires are all gay, although there's some form of reasoning behind it
• explicit drug use and sex scenes (which I wouldn't mind but it felt like shock value)

It's possible that I'm not being fair. It's possible that I would revise my opinion on some of the explicit content if I read more of Brite's books. Lost Souls was remarkably well written and I definitely enjoyed it. I just worry about escalation.

9. Rendezvous With Rama by Arthur C. Clarke

Clarke, Arthur C. Rendezvous With Rama. New York: Ballantine, 1973.

Ok. I'm going to come right out and admit that I actually read this in September but never got around to reviewing it. Now I'm sitting here, two months later, with the book at one elbow and a coffee cup in hand. I'm sitting here and staring at the screen trying desperately to remember why I liked the book so much. (Which is ultimately why I do a book blog to begin with.)

I know that I liked it. Liked it a lot, actually, but I can't remember precisely why. It's classic sci-fi and I always enjoy noting which ideas are still relevant and which have become quaint with time. Rama's ideas have actually remained current (see I'm starting to remember). The idea of physiology dictating the form of artifacts I think is still very interesting consideration. It's probably the fault of Star Trek type popular sci fi that many of us take it for granted that if we encounter extraterrestrial life that it'll be of a similar layout to ours; they will be two-armed bipeds with opposable thumbs etc. Heck, we can't even assume hands let alone the rest. I think Rama did a good job of pointing this out without going over board with theorizing.

Additionally, with sub-lightspeed travel the distances involved implies such a vast amount of time that the idea what interstellar ships would have to look like and how people would survive the travel is not often consdered. It ends up being one of the central mysteries of the book and, therefore, fascinating.

8. The Witches by Roald Dahl

Dahl, Roald. The Witches. New York: Puffin, 1983.

The last time I read The Witches I was about 12. Needless to say, my memory of it doesn't match what I just read. In some ways, I think it's better than I remember. The action moves so fast that it is difficult to put down. The characters are universally fun full-fleshed creations without be saccharine like so many kid's book characters. The kids feel real. Real things happen to them. Parent's die. The future is uncertain. I find it refreshing.

However, I've also noticed that there is something appalling about the idea of kids reading Roald Dahl. Nothing overt, but his kid's books are almost as dark as his adult fiction. Almost as though Dahl creates his characters so realistically that they almost inherently become sinister. I didn't notice it when I was young so perhaps they don't either, but the ending of The Witches is not entirely happy and a little awful. Fun, but awful.

7. Uncle Shelby's ABZ Book by Shel Silverstein

Silverstein, Shel. Uncle Shelby's ABZ Book. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1961.

More widely known for his children's poetry (Light In the Attic, etc), Silverstein actually has a deliciously subversive sense of humor. I love it. It's like being in on an 'in-joke.' However, if you haven't read any of Silverstein's other poetry yet, go read either A Light In the Attic or Where the Sidewalk Ends before attempting this book. So much of the humor is dependent on being familiar with his other work.

My personal favorite is 'M'

6. Candide by Voltaire

Voltaire. Candide. Trans. Lowell Bair. New York: Bantam, 1981.

Candide is one of those books I always thought I ought to read, although I admit I thought it was just a Bernstein musical for a long time. It's like if one likes literature they should read, Moby Dick, Wuthering Heights, Ovid's Metamorphosis, Plato's Republic, etc. Somehow these books get lodged in our awareness regardless of their individual merits. This is how it ended up on my list.

Candide is probably the only time I ever have had to directly use information I learned in my college philosophy course. Candide is a young man who believes in philosophical optimism, i.e. this is the best of all possible world so the bad things that happen are ultimately for the best. The entire book is horrible things happening to Candide and all of his friends in the most unlikely of ways. After a series of triumphs and sudden reversals where Candide clings to his philosophical optimism, it finally resolves at the end with a revision of his beliefs which essentially boiled down to 'keep your head down and don't think too much.'

Clearly, Candide is a satire that attacks philosophy and religion. I found it amusing mainly because it was attacking many of the same things I've butted my head against over the years.

5. The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell

Russell, Mary Doria. The Sparrow. Toronto: Balantine. 1996.

A few years ago I bought a book called Book Lust. A book consisting entirely of themed lists of books. Under the science fiction list was The Sparrow. Of all the books that I read because of Book Lust, The Sparrow is the only one that I fell in love with. It's a speculative work of science fiction about the ramifications of humans encountered life in space. The way Russell handles it is thoughtful and neither overly pessimistic nor overly optimistic. The idea and implications of the sheer number and types of mistakes possible in such a situation is sobering. All in all a truly excellent work.