23. Dark Prince by Christine Feehan

Feehan, Christine. Dark Prince. New York: Leisure Book, 2005.

I've mentioned it before, but it's been a while since I've reviewed this kind of book. I like vampire romance novels. The smuttier the better. Ironically, I'm not an Anne Rice fan. I am a complex creature.

Anyway, I gave up books with a blush-factor of over 2 for the school year. All the Laurel K. Hamilton's went in a box under the bed so I wouldn't be tempted by trashy reading. However, in the middle of the wedding preparations I happened to mention to Ryan's aunt that I had a thing for Laurel K. Hamilton. It was a busy time, I forgot all about it. Christmas comes around and I've got this largish gift bag from said aunt. Inside were a number of fun things including the first two novels in 'The Carpathians (Dark) Series,' of which this is the first.

I had every intention of leaving them on the stack for summer reading. *sigh* Best laid schemes of mice and men, and all that. It went agley. I got stressed out and the next thing I know I'm nose deep in the vampire smut, blush factor 4. Oh well, we all have our guilty pleasures and this is mine.

This is my first exposure to Christine Feehan. She's developed an interesting take on the vampire myths. Particularly that the actual vampire is a degenerate outcast of a separate species called the Carpathians. These Carpathians subsist on human blood and have unlimited lifespans, but are not undead. Over time the males lose their ability feel emotions and eventually suicide or turn vampire. Their only hope for survival is to find their lifemate. This is complicated by the fact that Carpatian women have slowly lost the ability to produce female offspring and most humans are not psychically capable of being lifemates.

However, if they do find their lifemates they regain their feelings and ability to survive. The relationship is...ahem...intense.

In any case, it's a pretty well thought out premise. My only real complaint is a tiny niggling thing. I.e. there are an awful lot of people in and around the Carpathian mountains that seem to speak fluent English. Like I said, it's a small thing, but it was noticable.

This was a fun book. It's not a mind-bender, but it's very good at what it aims to achieve.

22. Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates

Oates, Joyce Carol. Black Water. New York: Plume Contemporary, 1993.

I've never read Joyce Carol Oates before so I didn't really know what to expect. I've heard her name numerous times. I've seen her titles countless times in bookstores both used and new. Oates is what we like to call a prolific writer. Additionally, she's won the National Book Award. Prolific award winning writers present a special challenge. If you don't already read them, where do you start? Even the best authors have the occasional flop, and it's always deflating to accidentally read the flops first. The obvious solution is to go after the award winners. However, I very often don't like the National Book Award winners. (It's awful, I know, I'm so ashamed)

Ultimately, I went to a used book store and read the first five pages of the half dozen titles of hers available. This is not my preferred method of title discovery. It's a little like throwing a dart at a bibliography tacked to corkboard. I walked away with Black Water which seemed interesting for it's oddly looping plot.

From the first page, it is clear what the outcome will be. The story, in fact, starts with a car skidding into a deep marsh. From there the plot loops back and forth through time. It alternately explores the backstory and details Kelly's, the protagonists, struggle to survive until help comes. Back and forth, back and forth, sometimes repeating, and sometimes blurring the reality with dream. It's an odd novel structure, but masterfully done.

I wasn't disappointed by my first Oates experience.

Faliure 1. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon

Haddon, Mark. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. New York: Vintage Contemporaries, 2003.

It doesn't happen often. In fact, it almost never happens. I've encountered a book that I cannot ever see myself finishing. Now, I do not always finish the books that I start for a number of reasons. Usually:

1. I get distracted by something,
2. Life in general gets busy and I have no time for reading, or
   
3. The planets are not aligned for this sort of book and and I put it aside

So I put it down but know that I'm someday going to pick it up again because I can tell someday I'll read it and enjoy it.

Sometimes though, rarely, I run up against a book that I just can't finish and I know from the outset, I'm never going to be able to finish it. Usually there's a combination of reasons, often having to do with the writing and sometimes the story. I've read some wretchedly written books and enjoyed them because of the story. This is the first time when I've run up against a character I can't handle, but can acknowledge that the writing itself is quite good.

The premise of the book revolves around an autistic narrator named Christopher Boone. Christopher discovers his neighbor's dog murdered and then sets out to solve the mystery. The novel is written in journal form from Christopher's point of view. Herein lies the problem. I work with asperger and autistic kids. Now, I don't know how they think. Who could possible know what's going on in the mind of autistic kid? However, I can't buy what Haddon portrays. Everything I do know about these kids says, 'no way.' It's a case of my job interfering with my hobby.

Sorry, Mr. Haddon, I just can't do it.

However, for those of you out there not occupationally crippled, give it a try. The voice is well written and engaging. For as far as I got, it was also consistant. Haddon also created a very real feeling family and world around Christopher. So, good luck. Someone let me know how it goes.

21. Animal Farm by George Orwell

Orwell, George. Animal Farm. New York: Signet Classic, 1946.

It's a shame that Animal Farm has largely dropped off the mandatory reading lists for high school. I did not have to read it in high school, nor did it come up in college. It has perpetually hovered in the periphery of my awareness as something I ought to read.

Yes. Definitely. Despite the argument that over the years Animal Farm has lost its relevance for the modern world, this book should be read by any adult who likes to consider themselves to be well educated. Yes, it is a satire of Stalinist Russia. Yes, it is also biting political commentary on the shortcomings of communism. Yes, communist Russia is gone. So what?

I say Animal Farm remains relevant for two reasons: 1. Illustration of the insidious ease of idea manipulation and 2. the history of the text itself.

The animals of Animal Farm start out oppressed by human tyranny and, as such things go, revolt. They create for themselves a society of equality governed by seven commandments. However, in the process of educating and formalizing this system it is discovered that not all of the animals were capable of the memory or intellect required. Thus, the pigs are set above the rest as intellectuals. Over time, the pigs corrupt themselves from benevolent dictators to self-serving tyrants, and, taking advantage of the short malleable memory of the masses, first amend the seven commandments and finally erase them all together in favor of a new maxim: "All animals are created equal, but some animals are more equal than others." It's slow, incremental, and insidious. All the animals seem to know something bad is happening but the explanations are so convincing that they stop believing in their memories and surrender their will. By the time they realize what has happened, it is too late. The pigs are indistinguishable from humans and they are in a worse position than they were before.

This highlights two disturbing facts:

1. Just how easy it is to manipulate memory.
2. Slavish belief in one's leaders allows those leaders to deceive without worry of discovery or repercussion.

Beyond the content of Animal Farm as a novel, the text has a moderately interesting history as well. By text, I am referring to the manuscript itself. Orwell conceived of the basic plot for Animal Farm in the mid 30's, but didn't get it written down until 1944. Once written, Orwell couldn't find a publisher for it. In effect, although the government at the time made no official recommendation, Animal Farm was black-balled. It seems odd to us now that an anti-communism book would be blocked. However at the time, England was crushed under events of WWII and Stalin was their strongest ally. It is little wonder then that the general consensus was to ignore some of the more objectionable truths surround such a valuable asset.

It is important to realize as a larger society that official censorship is only the more obvious evil.
Informal censorship, the agreement of people in position of media control to suppress a work for social or political reasons, is just as bad if not worse because of the the difficulty of fighting such an inscrutable system. Orwell wrote a preface to the first addition that did, in fact, attack such a system. It's worth a read.

In conclusion, if you haven't read it, you should. So read it. It's really short.

20. The Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde

Wilde, Oscar. Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde. New York: Signet Classic, 1990.

This is actually two books that have been bound together: The Happy Prince and The House of Pomegranates. Both books are collections of short fairy tales that Wilde wrote early in his career.

It's an unfortunate reality of our modern American upbringings that we tend to think fairy tales are bright insipid stories where the guy gets the girl, the girl gets the crown, the bad guys are frustrated but none the worse for wear. I blame Disney.

Fairy tales were not originally meant for child audiences. Until the 19th century, fairy tales appeared in literature aimed at adults. Fairy tales use a simple structure to deal with life issues in miniature. Highly stylized moralistic lessoning, in other words. The fairy tale, before Disney got his mitts on them, was often harsh, often ended badly, and was almost always gruesome. Cinderella, for example, follows the same general outline as the Disney classic. However the stepsisters mutilate their feet (one cuts off a slice of her heel and one cuts off her big toe) in the process of trying to fit their feet in the glass slipper and in the end have their eyes pecked out by sparrows. Not quite the cheery ending displayed by Disney and a much more intense lesson about the distructive effects of envy.

Anyway, Wilde's fairy tales aren't so gruesome, but they are highly moralistic. My favorites are: 'The Remarkable Rocket' which takes on pride, 'The Devoted Friend' which takes on the dangers of being a doormat, and 'The Birthday of the Infanta' which is...complicated. I grew up with a collection that had 'The Selfish Giant' in it and also think highly of it. I love fairy tales, especially when they make me cry.

19. Microserfs by Douglas Coupland

Coupland, Douglas. Microserfs. New York: Reagan Books, 1995.

As a college senior, I thought a class called 'Literature and Digital Media' sounded like fun. I went to the first day, collected the syllabus and ran eagerly to the campus books store where I picked up a variety of novels based on the intersection of computers and literature. They ranged from Gibson's Neuromancer to Stephenson's Snow Crash and down to other much less notable books. It was the worst class I took in my entire college career.

The books, with a couple of exceptions, were poor specimens and the prof couldn't teach his way out of a preschool bathroom. I spent most of my time frothing at the mouth and picking apart the crappy writing. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not always looking for brilliant and elegantly written prose. If that's what I wanted I'd have gone and taken the class that required me beating my head against Faulkner, but I feel that there is a minimum requirement for quality.

In any case, we never got to Microserfs and the book got boxed up and sent to my apartment after graduation. Based on my experience with the majority of the course reading list, I had every intention of tossing it out when I came across it again about a year later. My erstwhile boyfriend fished it out of the trash, however, and subjected me to a 10 minute tirade on the innovative leaps of Mr. Coupland's brilliant mind. So I put it back on the shelf. I kept trying to get rid of it and various people kept convincing me to hold on to it.

So now I've read it. It's good. Really. It would be easy to lump Microserfs into Gen X office dramas, but that doesn't really cover it. It's sort of about being a geek, it's sort of about being a programmer after the first wave of programming hysteria, and it's sort of about people being people. What it's really about, though, is what it was to be a 20-something in the mid-90's tech culture. It's a snapshot. Everything changed and we're still catching up. Microserfs is the candid photo of a whole generation looking over its shoulder looking both exhilarated and terrified.

Technically speaking, Microserfs is written in the form of a journal our techie protagonist is keeping over the course of about two years. Most of it is pretty straight forward, but here and there Coupland blasts out free association pages and meme-like lists. While this isn't terribly distracting, I don't think it adds much. I think Coupland was trying to overlay a philisophical question about the nature of memory over the basic plot. The philosophical overtones don't add much and are pretty ignorable.

The pacing is pretty good, but this is definitely a momentum book. The first 100 pages really get the plot moving and then it slows down gradually all the way to the end. This is fine, as long as the book is read in a reletively short period. Pack it in your bag for your trip to Bermuda. Whatever you do though, don't put it down for more than a couple of days. Trust me. It's hard to pick it back up.

18. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire

Maguire, Gregory. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister. New York: HarperCollins, 1999.

There are a number of ways that books show up on my lists. These include but are not limited to:

• I was supposed to read it for a class but didn't
• I read part of it once and feel I should finish it
• It's one of those cultural oddities of 'you should...if you are a serious writer' books (Candide, Metamorphosis, etc.)
  
• I read something else by that author that I liked
• Somebody told me I would like it
• I randomly picked it up at a bookstore because it looked interesting

Or, and this one is a facet of suddenly finding myself a lit teacher,

• All the kids are reading it, why are all the kids reading it? *paranoia*

So I find myself, even though I swore never again after Wicked, reading another Maguire fractured fairytale. Mostly because about four kids in my English classes are reading it. Out of a total of 23 kids, that's actually a pretty high percentage. So here I am going, oh god, what's it going to be this time? Sex? Drugs? Violence? It has to be something. In any case, generally expecting the worst and doubly expecting that I'm going to hate finding out what it is based on my experience with Wicked.

As it turns out my concerns were baseless and beyond that, I actually enjoyed reading Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister. Color me chagrined. Maguire fixed most of the pacing issues that caused me such problems with Wicked and put together an alternate story for Cinderella that I found hard to put down. Maguire set in Holland during the midst of the tulip craze which was interesting to say the least.

All and all, a pleasent surprise.

Apparently the reason everyone was reading Confession was that the musical of Wicked was playing downtown at the Fox and the library ran out of copies of the book. *shrug* Life is nothing if not strange.

17. Witch World by Andre Norton

Norton, Andre. Witch World. New York: Ace Books, 1963.

This book took some hunting down. Andre Norton didn't come to my attention until after she died in 2005. In fact, it was her death that brought her name to my attention in the first place. Being such a fan of Science Fiction and Fantasy, people kept asking me, "Oh God, did you hear? Andre Norton died." Now if you are a bibliophile, having to answer, "Who's Andre Norton?" is a trifle embarrassing. So, being uniquely me, I found out.

Andre Norton wrote SciFi Fantasy from the 1950's through until she died in 2005. Despite her vast popularity in the 60's and 70's somehow she dropped out of popular consciousness for my generation (whoohoo being a child of the 80's) and many of her books dropped out of print, including Witch World.

Witch World is the flagship title for the Witch World series; it was published in 1963 and was nominated for a Hugo in 1964. Its last reprint was in the early mid-80's. So picture me, the intrepid book explorer: pith helmet, flashlight, and spear (wild bookworms you know) on the hunt. I trolled through the used-bookstores of Atlanta, scraping through stacks of V.C. Andrews novels and warding off attacking anthologies. No back room was too dark and no shelf too high. After about three months of looking, I finally found a copy in the Decatur Book Nook.

It was worth the search. On the surface, it's a fairly typical 'lost in another world' scenario. However, Norton actually addresses many of the practical considerations that many authors neglect, such as language and culture shock. It's well written, and thematically cohesive. Norton has a knack for circling back around on ideas unobtrusively. I suspect that a publisher will eventually get around to reprinting Witch World since they do seem to be slowly cycling through her catalog, but it's worth hunting down an old used copy.

16. Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen

Kaysen, Susanna. Girl Interrupted. New York: Vintage Books, 1993.

A break from my usual fiction, this one is a memoir. In the 1960's Susanna Kaysen was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and placed in a Psychiatric Ward. It seems clear that Ms. Kaysen certainly didn't feel that all was well with the world. She had a history of suicide attempts and running away from home. However, Borderline Personality Disorder seems a bit much. Kaysen's memoir points out the impossibility of perception. When admitted, she accepts her diagnosis but over time she comes to realize that virtually any person can fit into the description for a borderline. Additionally, attitudes and morals change and the psychological disorder discriptors can't keep up. Compounded with out of date unfair gender norms and were any of us ever really safe. What's the quality that keeps us out of the nuthouse? Is it sanity, or just an ability to fit in?

Years later, Ms. Kaysen's book was made into a movie. It's a good movie, as far as it goes, but it misses out on the true tragedy. Life and sanity. Insanity and death. In the end, just lables.

15. Snow FLower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See

See, Lisa. Snow Flower and the Secret Fan: A Novel. New York: Random House, 2005.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan is another random used-bookstore find. It is too newly published to appear on many of my lists and I don't keep track of new releases as well as I'd like. Likewise, this was my first exposure to Lisa See's writing. I'd never actually heard of her before despite her eight books, many of which were well received. I am impressed. See possesses a natural style and a gift for fluidly explaining cultural traditions to the unfamiliar.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan is about two young women bound together in a formal relationship that made them laotung (like a best friend for life) to each other. One, Lily, is from a poor farming family. The other, Snow Flower, is from a very wealthy family. The book tracks their relationship over the span of their lives and observes how it was complicated by the formalism of imperial Chinese culture.

While many of the aspects of Chinese culture and history See focuses on were somewhat familiar, I felt her account of the process of foot-binding was masterful. The explanation of nu shu, women's writing was intriguing. Overall, this was a fascinating read.

14. About a Boy by Nick Hornby

Hornby, Nick. About a Boy. New York: Riverhead, 1998.

The thing that must be understood from the out set is that Nick Hornby is a good writer. He's funny in a dry way. His characters are, in a way, gross exaggerations of realistic behavior. So, when one reads About a Boy it is important to understand that the main character Will isn't meant to be everyday ordinary shallow. He's meant to be a a clever exaggeration that moves right through shallow and self absorbed and into something almost redeemable.

That being said, it is sometimes difficult to read a book like this. It's always immediately obvious why the character's decisions are going to end in nothing but pain and it's often painful 'watching' them make those decisions. What ultimately saves the book is the contrast between the two main characters. On one side is Will; the self-centered, indulgent, aimless man living in a vacuum. On the other is Marcus; the strange child of a suicidal hippy who is surrounded by equally strange people. Both characters are completely out of touch with the world, but in totally different ways. Somehow, they meet in the middle. Somehow that is beautiful.

13. Flatland by Edwin Abbott

Abbott, Edwin. Flatland. New York: Dover, 1952.

Flatland is a book that ended up on the list because multiple people recommended it to me. 'Multiple' meaning more than four. As much as I talk books with people, it is still rare to get more than two recommendations on a book not on the best sellers list in the last couple of years. There are a lot of books out there that satisfy a variety of tastes. Compound with that, that I know a variety of people with highly diverse interests. So, when I get more than four different recommendations for a book originally published in the 1880s it does peak my interest.

The way Flatland was always described to me was a 'geometric proof in novel form.' To that I'm adding it's a study in dimensionality and, for lack of more education in math, 'mathematical perspective.' These things are true. Lots of diagrams.

However, it is a mistake to say that this is simply a creative way of writing a mathematical proof. Unfortunately, that's all anyone ever seems to remember. This was written during the height of the Victorian Era: women are supposed to be fragile stupid flowers, a high importance is placed manners, men are the authoritarian heads of their households, and careful observation of expectations. So when I was about half way through and I encountered what a woman was in shapeland, I was shock and pissed. (see how I don't tell you what actually pissed me off, enticing yes?)

Anyway, I wasn't pissed long. Soon, it was pretty clear that Abbott was satirizing his entire culture: rules, expectations, everything. For such a short book there's a lot to it.

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.