Bright Lights, Big City, Jay McInerney

Cover illustration for Bright Lights, Big City, by Jay McInerneyBright Lights, Big City is, for me, both brutally timely and eerily nostalgic. Nostalgic partly because of it’s old school Vintage cover art, it’s beat up laminated library binding and the check out slip dating from March of 1989, but also because of it’s angsty-cum-tragic tone, the narrator’s early youthful bitterness. It is, for me, all high school. Holding it in my hands, that particular peeling library binding feel, those particular manila colored pages–watermarked, of course–reminds me of being 14, sitting on the hallway carpet in front of the wall heater, reading in the hours between school and dinner, dishes and bed. Timely, because, well–we all know what Bright Lights, Big City is about, right? Failure on all fronts: professional, romantic, artistic, financial.

The novel opens at a Manhattan night club around 2:00 am, where the narrator and his friend, the unstoppable hedonist Tad Allagash, are imbibing and attempting to either score some coke or separate one of the weaker women from the herd. Or both. We will come back to this scene a few different times.

Our hero is in the midst of a brief spiraling downfall punctuated by parties, bars, and mountains of Peruvian flake. On the verge of loosing his job as an entry-level fact checker at a prestigious magazine. In the aftermath of his wife’s desertion. In the realization that, at 24 he has failed to achieve the early promise he felt on his arrival in the city at 22.

Bright Lights, Big City Movie PosterFrom the description so far, this novel may seem to exhibit all the markings of a Bret Easton Ellis nihilism fest, but I don’t mean to give that impression. McInerney’s style and voice is anything but. His work is full of wit and humor. Dry for the most part, but at times almost slapstick, he offers a gently mocking portrait of fading glory of the New York literati, the 1980s nightlife, and a few boyish pranks. It also contains moments of startling honesty and clarity, in which a character grounded in escapism suddenly cuts through the bullshit and delivers an insight for which he seems thoroughly unprepared.

My only real gripe with this book (other than the uncomfortable feeling of resonance) is the ending, which, without offering too big a spoiler, adheres too closely to trends in literary fiction at the time and concludes with an abrupt hopeful up-note which, this reader felt, was not quite justified.

Kicking off the Holiday Season with Patricia Briggs and Deanna Raybourn

Cover illustration for Wolfsbane by Patricia BriggsI started off November with the incredibly fabulous corn-ball extravaganza, Wolfsbane, by Patricia Briggs, the long unpublished squeal to the author’s 1993 flop, Masques (which I, incidentally, adore).

The novel opens with the main character, Aralorn, heading home to her family estate to attend her father’s funeral. Her morose but hot lover, Wolf, joins her at the family castle, and the two soon discover that her father is not in fact dead, but under the influence of a powerful spell that will kill him before long. The book follows Aralorn and Wolf and a small host of friends and family as they work to discover who is responsible for the attack and undo the spell. Their continued romance forms the major subplot of the book, occasionally superseding the mystery, so that it’s almost a toss up whether this is a fantasy-mystery novel with some elements of romance, or a romance novel with some elements of fantasy and mystery. So obviously that was enormously satisfying. (Did I mention my boyfriend has been out of town?)

Deanna Raybourn Julia GreyI followed that one up with the Lady Julia Grey Bundle for Kindle, a compendium of three slightly tongue-in-cheek Gothic mystery romances from Deanna Raybourn (no I don’t think it’s her real name either). Widowed in the first line of the first book, Lady Julia Grey proceeds to solve gruesome murders, ruminate on the depravity of human kind, fight with her prodigious family, and make out with brooding but hot private inquiry agent Nicholas Brisbane. The mysteries pretty much weren’t, but the whole experience was completely enjoyable.

Cover illustration for Dark Road to Darjeeling by Deanna RaybournI’m now about 85% done with the newly released fourth book in the series, The Dark Road to Darjeeling, another winner. I’m guessing selling #4 at full price is the reason they bundled 1-3–and it worked, because I totally bought it. I don’t want to give away the mystery (not that the author hasn’t already done so) but in this one, there is an all black man-eating tiger.

I think a good rule of thumb is this: if the word “bane” appears in either the book title or any character name, the book is going to be

a) really fun, and
b) really embarrassing

When I’m done, I swear I’ll finish Super Sad True Love Story.

A Few Brief Comments on Books I Need to Return to the Library…

…before they take out a contract and start posting my picture at all the branches.

Cover illustration for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark HaddonMark Haddon’s bestseller, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time has been on my to-read list for years. It’s one of those bestsellers that even my writer friends rave about.

There’s defiantly something special about this book. I’ve never read anything quite like it. Hoddon’s severely autistic main character, Christopher narrates with a striking combination of literal observations, misinterpretations, dramatic irony, and involved tangents about maths.

The story begins when Christopher finds the body of his neighbor’s poodle, stabbed with a garden fork in her front yard, but, as in the original “curious incident,” the dog is somewhat incidental, a clue and a catalyst, rather than the heart of the story. The “murder” of the dog inspires Christopher to write a murder mystery about the crime for school, leading to conversations with neighbors, confrontations with his father, and eventually, the uncovering of a much larger truth about his own life, and the people close to him.

The work does have it’s challenging moments. Christopher is a prickly character, at times difficult to like, but his novel and intricate voice keeps readers engaged. His frustrated and overworked parents are similarly difficult to empathize, though the difficulties inherent in raising Christopher do make them a bit more sympathetic. The novel decrescendos in a rather rushed style, wrapping up all the loose ends in a way that makes the author’s hand show a little too clearly.

Overall, however, I found this a fascinating, original novel.

Cover illustration for Push by SapphireI read the beginning of Push for the first time on Amazon’s search inside. Normally, I haven’t got much patience for that particular feature (hate how they skip pages!), but when I discovered Push, I just couldn’t look away. The novel’s famous vernacular narration is exquisite and compelling. Though she is sometimes criticized as a foil, the narrator comes through, clear and whole, as far as I am concerned.

So, why’s it taken me three library renewals and who knows how much in fines to finish it?

This is a bit of a spoiler, but I’m just going to go ahead and say it: it’s after she gets HIV. It was just so horrifically heart breakingly awful. As a reader, you become so sympathetic to this character, and so absorbed in her personality, and then she gets this news and just collapses, and you’re right there with her.

I put it away for a while.

Not that I’m recommending that for anyone else.

Push, by legendary slam poet Sapphire, tells the story of Clarisse Precious Jones, an illiterate and 15-year-old girl living in Harlem with her abusive mother. Pregnant with her second child by her vicious rapist father, Precious is expelled from public school but referred to an alternative school where she meets teacher and mentor Ms. Rain, develops her literacy (and literary) skills, and becomes one in a tight community of young women students.

Kicked out of her mother’s house after the birth of her son, Abdul, Precious finds shelter in a half-way-house near school, and really begins to come into her own.

Then, her mother tells her than her father had died of AIDS, and more questions about Precious’ future arise. Ultimately, the author leaves the conclusion of Precious’ story ambiguous. Having criticized Alice Walker for the fairy tale ending of The Color Purple through the voice of her narrator, Sapphire ends her own tale on a tenuously, precariously hopeful note–but no more.