Review: The Unit by Ninni Holmqvist

Dystopian literature is not my usual thing. In fact, I generally put any and all dystopian novels gingerly back on the shelf at the bookstore no matter how appealing the cover or title is or how many recommendations I hear. Perhaps I am just practicing head in the sand avoidance, not wanting to think about how our current society could easily devolve into a society like the ones portrayed by imaginative authors in these often very disturbing worlds. So you'll know just how much I was looking forward to reading this particular book. And I wouldn't have read it had I not been given it to read for a committee on which I served.

But the committee obigated me to give it a fair shake (even if I waited almost to the end of my reading list for them to pick it up, choosing to read books I thought I'd enjoy more first). And I won't make you wait until the end of the review to tell you that I am incredibly grateful that this came across my desk as it did, obligating me to read this powerful, amazing, and completely worthwhile novel. It stretched my assumptions and gripped my attention. It was indeed a "Wow!" reading experience that left me thinking about it for a good long time afterwards.

Dorrit Weger is turning fifty. What this means for a childless unmarried writer is that she will have no option but to move into the Second Reserve Bank Unit for biological material. In short, the state will now feed, clothe, and entertain her. They will keep her healthy. The price for this? She must be willing to donate body parts and participate in scientific studies that benefit the "productive" members of society. There will come a time when she is asked to make a "final donation," one that costs her her life. And she has no choice but to comply with this directive no matter how horrifying it seems to her.

Once the initial disgust has worn off though, Dorrit settles into the Unit, making friends, volunteering for non-invasive studies, and even falling in love. The subtle horror of her fellow inmates being farmed for organs never quite leaves though, running through even the mundanity of daily life. People disappear with or without warning to make their final donations. Scientific studies go wrong and the subjects are left permanently damaged (but only for a brief time as they almost immediately then make their final donation).

But if the manufactured idyllic life in the Unit is a facade, the human relationships and connections between the characters are strong and real. And it is in creating these characters who struggle and philosophize and love and challenge despite their certain fate that Holmqvist has excelled. The society these characters must exist within does force the reader to examine some of the questions in our own society. Who is a productive member of society? Who makes that determination? Should we acquiese without question for the greater good of the whole? What kind of society are we creating? And what do we value above all?

The twist of fate whereby Dorrit has the means to save herself is masterful. And the path that she ultimately chooses doesn't really answer the questions that the story raises. But I don't think we're meant to find answers. We are meant to reflect on the questions. And I certainly did that. It was hard to start another book after this one because it went on percolating in my brain for so long. Not one I would ever have read on my own, I can't really explain why I think everyone should read it. But everyone should. Riveting, troubling, exquisite, and addictive, this is a book that challenges and rewards. It is simply put, a must read.

Thanks to the Other Press for sending me a copy to review even if I initially wrinkled my nose. Teach me to prejudge a book!

Review: Blackman's Coffin by Mark DeCastrique

I made an exception to my no mysteries with bodies in them policy for this book because my book club was reading it. And I have suffered from creepy nightmares since reading it. I will have to go back to being a coward and refusing to read anything that even has the faintest whiff of being scary. So keeping in mind that I am far from the ideal reader of this particular book, indeed of any book in the genre, here goes.

Sam Blackman is in Asheville, NC, in the hospital doing rehab after losing his leg in Iraq when a fellow vet brings him a book. Tikima challenges him to stop feeling sorry for himself with a sarcastic and honest wit that intrigues him. But she never returns like she has promised and Sam discovers that she has been murdered. He attends her funeral and decides to speak on behalf of all the vets whom her life touched. It is because of this moving tribute to a woman he met only for 10 minutes that her sister Nakayla searches Sam out, convinced that her sister had chosen Sam to help her uncover the truth of their great-great-grandfather's murder (eerily similar to Tikima's) some 90 years prior.

Nakayla gives Sam a journal she discovered at Tikima's and this account, by a young boy who knew him, of great-great-grandfather Elijah Robertson's desire to bury his great uncle in the family cemetery (not an easy task considering that white undertakers would generally not touch a black person's body and this one needed to be taken from North Carolina to Georgia) will drive the investigation both into Elijah's long ago murder as well as Tikima's more recent murder. And the investigation will take them to the Biltmore Estate and Pisgah National Forest and will be wide reaching enough to touch Asheville's famous son: author Thomas Wolfe.

The historical information included in this mystery is fascinating and I wondered where the lines of reality and fiction intersected. Asheville is a terribly interesting place and DeCastrique has certainly captured that. But, as noted before, I am a huge wimp about bodies and this book not only has the two main murders, but there are some collateral deaths that haunted my dreams as well. I think that mystery lovers will enjoy this greatly as it is well written and the ultimate denouement isn't easily guessed (at least for this mystery novice) until moments before the text confirms the reader's surmise. Not for me because of my life as a scaredy-cat, it is nevertheless a book many will like.

And as an ironic aside, I actually went to the library and applied for a library card so I didn't have to buy this book, knowing it would be unlikely to be my sort of read. It was on the boat I sank. So despite doing a decent job drying it out, it now looks like a rolodex instead of a book. And I own it. Because the library is strangely sniffy about books after complete immersion. Library copies are far more expensive than bookstore copies. So much for being smart!

A North Carolina author for the Literary Road Trip hosted by Galleysmith.

Review: The Old Forest and Other Stories by Peter Taylor

Before I discuss this book, I feel it only fair to disclose my general inability to connect with short stories except on very rare occasions and with very few authors. This inability is all mine and shouldn't reflect on the authors, but of course, it does to the extent that I write reviews about their stories. Ah well. The joys of being a published writer at the mercy of folks like me, I guess. That said, on to the review.

I didn't much like it. Now that comes as a surprise, doesn't it? The stories were well-written, elegant even. They are set in a south (20's and 30's) that was rapidly disappearing even as the characters lived their lives of quiet, privileged seclusion of sorts. This is a time and place I generally don't mind visiting in my reading but there was something about these stories that just didn't resonate for me. I almost felt as if each small story was happening at a remove from me as the reader, that there was no emotional pull, tugging me into each story whether I wanted to be tugged or no. The stories themselves were not superficial in any way although they were muted and restrained, proper even. And perhaps I'm too messy and uninhibited to appreciate that or perhaps my usual disdain for short stories colored my perception of this before I ever opened the cover. For whatever reason, I was pleased to turn the last page and be able to get on with other reading.

Review: Fork It Over by Alan Richman

This is a collection of columns previously written by Richman for GQ and other sources about his life as a professional eater and restaurant reviewer. The columns have been arranged into a menu of sorts: amuse-bouche, appetizers, palate cleanser, entrees, palate cleanser, sides, cheese, palate cleanser, wine, and gratuity. Richman is well written and funny and the columns pleased this readers palate. Of course, I do generally enjoy the literary equivalent of what we here sometimes call "food porn" but I think this is of interest to most people. It isn't too specialized or restaurant-centric so that only those who have eaten at the place in question will enjoy the associations Richman makes as he travels from the nostalgia of his mother's kitchen to the palate stirring pleasures of a gourmet meal. One of my favorite comedic bits in the book comes from one of the palate cleansers, Ten Commandments For Diners and headed "5. Pass on the Omelette Station." It reads: "You're on vacation, ready to splurge. That means the hotel's $39.95 Sunday buffet brunch. There's salmon, sushi, crab claws, shrimp, and eggs Benedict. You head straight for the omelette station, where a guy in a Hawaiian shirt who has never been to cooking school is making fluffy four-egg omelets with scallions, peppers, Bac'Os, and a grated cheese product. Nice going. You've just filled up on an egg dish that costs $3.99 at Denny's." After you stop giggling, you recognize that the man really is correct. (And I felt inordinately glad I hate eggs so I knew without doubt I've never fallen into that brunch pitfall.) Good fun, this was well worth the read.

Review: Jim the Boy by Tony Earley

Jim is a young boy, heading into his teenaged years, who lives with his mother and three uncles in a rural North Carolina town during the Great Depression. It is a gentle coming of age novel in a more innocent time. There are no major cataclysmic events driving the plot. It is just (as if it could be "just" anything) a lovely, almost nostalgic look at a family and a place. My bookclub chose this book on one member's recommendation and because it is set not far from where we all live and we were split on how we felt about it. I would liken it to the creek meandering through my backyard. Small and seemingly insignificant, it brings wonderful wildlife to our backdoor and offers a quiet, peaceful and contemplative place to escape the street out front. This book felt the same way to me. One of the reviews on the back cover compares it to a folk ballad and that strikes me as appropriate too. This very quietness or ballad like feel was problematic for some of the readers in our group. But I appreciated the poignancy that is rare nowadays and I look forward to the newly released sequel that will let me slip back into Jim's life and coming adulthood.

Review: The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley

This Victorian children's morality tale is one that I've not heard many other people mention and that is a shame. It is more sophisticated than many elementary school-aged books written now and yet still sweet. Tom, a little chimney-sweep who is smacked about by his master, is cleaning a chimney at a great house when he is mistakenly thought to be a thief. He is terrified and runs off, all the while trailed by the queen of the fairies. After encountering huge obstacles in his path and overcoming them, he faces more mistrust and so wanders off to bathe in the river. He falls in and is transformed into a water-baby. As a water-baby, he has many adventures and learns to be a better boy than he had ever been when on land. This story owes much both to Gulliver's Travels and to The Odyssey. There are many strange creatures who instruct Tom in what is right and good during his quest and he has a loyal girl waiting for him to come home to her during his strangest adventure. The language would probably be a bit tough for elementary school readers today, either because they didn't understand it or simply because it is quite ornate and descriptive, unlike today's books, but the creativity of the land in which the water-babies live and the creatures that populate it might help children overcome these difficulties. There were pockets of the story that were a bit tedious in their insistence on moral lessons being pointed out in case the reader missed the significance of Tom's experience but this is very much a hallmark of the literature of the time and didn't ultimately detract from the overall loveliness of the story.

Sunday Salon: Review: I Wanna Be Sedated: 30 Writers on Parenting Teenagers edited by Faith Conlon and Gail Hudson

I found this one sitting in my stacks and added it to one of my challenge lists with the thinking that I have a child racing towards the teen years so I should start reading along and preparing myself. After reading this book, I can see a good reason to follow the adage "Ignorance is bliss." Yowza! I am not ready for some of the challenges in this book. Will I be ready in a year? Probably not. But I don't think I get to stop the train now. My own personal state of panic aside, this was an interesting read. Very few of the writers focused on the really big issues you see in the news so frequently: drugs, alcohol, teen pregnancy, etc. Instead, they mostly confined themselves to the everyday irrationality of teenagers. They detailed frustrations, challenges, hormonal swings, and heartbreaks but the essays in here gave equal time to the overwhelming love the writers all felt (feel) for their teens, who amidst strife and chaos, are untying the apron strings and emerging from the chrysalis of childhood. I suspect that it's still hard to see exactly who the teens will be as adults, but these famous writer parents seem, for the most part, to be enjoying watching the transformation. The essays do run the gamit from humorous takes on the moodiness we all expect of teens to the pain of watching as your two oldest run away again. In the first essay, W. Bruce Cameron writes, "Congratulations! You are now the proud new owner of a teenage daughter. Please read this manual carefully, as it describes the maintenance of your new daughter and answers important questions about your warranty (which does NOT include the right to return the product to the factory for a full refund)." This essay stands in sharp contrast to Debra Gwartney's heartbreaking essay about her struggles with her daughters. Her essay details her attempt to change the situation after her daughters run away the first time but towards the end, she writes, "In the end, they had to go and keep going until they decided to return. I must have known that on some level, hard as it was to accept. When they left the second time, I didn't try to stop them."

Obviously, experiences with teenagers are as varied as the teenagers themselves and this book doesn't make any claims to be a parenting manual or even to dispense advice (except in the most flip and humorous of ways). It isn't designed to scare the pants off of parents (although some essays did have that effect on me) nor is it designed to fool them into a sense of complacency about the trials of living with teens (no chance of that!). It is merely an entertainment, filled with well-written and interesting essays about a time of life that no parent escapes. And on that level, it fulfills its purpose. As in most collections, there were essays I enjoyed far more than others. Some were better written than others. And as is often the case with specialized collections such as this, I'm not convinced of its universal appeal but for parents who can stomach reading about the teen years, this is a pretty decent choice. For my own part, after reading this, I have decided that "Dee Nile ain't just a river in Egypt, baby." If I ignore it hard enough, maybe I won't even notice the teen years as we plow through them here, right?!