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I came across this book while on search for all things fin de siècle Vienna. This book did not fit the bill, I think I was looking for another book by this author; however, I enjoyed reading this book very much. I was surprised, I also was uncertain if the book was based on a real historical event and after reading 2/3 of it; I looked and found that it was. But it is an event that I highly suspect you may not know about: the Serbian May Overthrow of 1903. The end of the House of Obrenović in a coup d’état by the military to assassinate King Alexander and Queen Draga to place Kara�'or�'ević dynasty back on the throne. It’s a pretty complicated story, I could not do it justice here and it took Fagyas around 380 pages to do it. And how well she did. The book is structured with each chapter as an hour leading up to the coup- for almost 24hrs. It seems historically accurate (my fact-checking was with Wiki, not the best I admit) and so she does not seem to take liberties, although the main character Michael Vassilovich does seem to be fictional. And it is through him and his relationship to Draga and to former king Milan that we see and experience this historical shift in Serbia. The characters are humanely drawn without sentimentality or romanticism. The background is given in clear ways without bogging down the narrative. It was much more engaging and emotionally available than reading the account in a history text. The book gives the reader a way to enter a relatively unknown historical event- and even though it was published in ’73, it reads well today.

If I had to select one word to describe this book it would be: yuck. There's a lot of hype surrounding this book, touting it as some sort of feminist manifesto, I would say, not really. If I were to be generous, I would agree that the novel transgresses, similar to Bataille's, Story of the Eye, with its overt and liberated sexual descriptions and its fixation with the informé- the body's secretions. However, the narrator's obsessions with her parents' reunion and her neurosis (anal and otherwise) deem her as not liberated but rather psychologically traumatized and infantilized- too bad. The book is easy to read with jaunty approachable prose; if you like reading books that make you cringe and make you feel like you're some sort of textual voyeur- then I say, go for it.

If I had to select one word to describe this book it would be: yuck. There's a lot of hype surrounding this book, touting it as some sort of feminist manifesto, I would say, not really. If I were to be generous, I would agree that the novel transgresses, similar to Bataille's, Story of the Eye, with its overt and liberated sexual descriptions and its fixation with the informé- the body's secretions. However, the narrator's obsessions with her parents' reunion and her neurosis (anal and otherwise) deem her as not liberated but rather psychologically traumatized and infantilized- too bad. The book is easy to read with jaunty approachable prose; if you like reading books that make you cringe and make you feel like you're some sort of textual voyeur- then I say, go for it.

I have heard a lot of hype about this writer, so I wanted to check his work out and this was the first book of his I came across. If I had thought more about its topic, I may not have read this book; frankly, I don't care about coming-of-age stories. This work definitely has Hemingway written all over it, even some "excerpts" are quoted from a Hemingway novel and they are listed at the end. But I think Dyer's pulling our leg since the quotes are so trite, I don't have the book before me so I cannot give examples. At first, while reading this book, I felt annoyed. I could not relate to the characters and Dyer's descriptions of Paris really didn't make me believe it. After a while, the writing started to seduce me with its rhythms and details. Dyer really has a way at writing out a thought or a scene that captures small details that one may transiently notice; I don't often come across this quality in novels. He's writing about nothing really, but writing it out: a party with all the subtle body language, a scene at an outdoor café with people watching, riding a bus, having sex, etc. But all these non-events add up to a story of youth wasted, dreams misdirected, and the greedy lust to freeze the perfect present in eternity (a baleful idea). With this failure, how can the story end? I would read more Dyer, but I am glad this novel was pretty short.

I am always surprised to find how much I like the tough-guy prose of Raymond Chandler; it is befitting of the place and characters. His lanaguage is a window into America's linguistic past, preserving the slang, rhythms, and quirky sayings of a darker, provincial Los Angeles. The plot keeps you involved; dead bodies and metaphors quickly pile up. Women, and there a good number of them, aren't given the best light here. But there is something sad and revealing in this novel.

I read this book twice with ten years in between readings; it was just as powerful the second time around. The main theme of the story is centered on time: how a woman's perspective shifts as she moves through, and re-experiences time, and how she lives in multiple times. This sounds like a complex subject, and psychologically it can be, but Atwood creates a plot that is very human. I remember crying during the first read, I was surprised how much I cried again during the second read. Yet, the story is not written with a heavy emotional hand; at its simplest, it is a story of how a child becomes an adult. Yet, Atwood captures the everyday tragedy that happens on this path, the revelations that horrify, and the losses one endures.

A bawdy novel in a fairy tale form about a 40 year old poet/pawnbroker who is given back youth to travel for a year to imaginary places. He begins his journey with the pretense of searching for his disappeared wife. He goes to heaven and hell and marries three other women. Jurgen was brought to trial for obscenity in 1919 for some obscure passages that may have referred to sex. The real reason may have been because of the novel's questioning of religion and dogma. Because of its notoriety, Cabell was launched into fame which included critical appreciation- he was also friends with H.L. Mencken, Sinclair Lewis, among others; and he was read by Mark Twain. After the 30s, however, Cabell's fame slipped and he has had more of a cult readership these days; although his works inspired Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land, and he is cited as an influence by Neil Gaiman. Jurgen is a tale of a mid-life crisis. The main character questions the value of relationships and suffers illusion's unveiling of love, marriage and youth. In the end he has a better understanding of life….maybe. There are many subtle things in this story, maybe too subtle for the contemporary reader.

Jacoby was inspired, or rather compelled to write this book after hearing a conversation on 9/11/2001- according to The New York Times (2/14/2008), it went something like this: “This is just like Pearl Harbor,” one of the men said. The other asked, “What is Pearl Harbor?” “That was when the Vietnamese dropped bombs in a harbor, and it started the Vietnam War,” the first man replied. At that moment, Ms. Jacoby said, “I decided to write this book.” After reading this article and few more reviews, and after seeing Ms Jacoby give a book reading in San Francisco, I became inspired to read it. I mostly wanted to see how if I was as ignorant and uninformed as the rest of America; and I also have a deep curiosity to understand the strange history of America's intellectuals. After reading this, I am curious to see how Jacoby's book departs or expands upon Richard Hofstadter's book, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life. I think Jacoby does present some of the challenges Americans face in issues of education and critical thinking. Religious fundamentalism and video media are the main culprits to intellectual downfall, according to Jacoby, and I agree. However, I am more concerned of how Americans lost a respect and desire for knowledge and rational understanding. We had a trajectory for such values, but what happened? Where do we fall to the wayside? Jacoby's book excellently diagrams how we have gone awry and what are culprits, but I perhaps I wanted to dig a little deeper into the murk.

The plot is standard gothic novel stuff, but Du Maurier uniquely reveals inner psychologizing in words. I'm not sure if I had encountered any novel so exact in this regard. I was very much drawn in by the language and the suspense of this work.

A Nervous Splendor covers nine historical months from the summer of 1888 to the spring of 1889 in Vienna, Austria. The story is mostly centered on the events that led to the Crown Prince Rudolf's double suicide (with his lover Baroness Mary Vetsera). Morton alternates Rudolf's story with events that were happening simultaneously to other cultural figures: Sigmund Freud, Gustave Klimt, Arthur Schnitzler, Theodor Herzl, Gustav Mahler, Anton Bruckner and Johannes Brahms. The overall effect is a fast-paced and engaging snapshot of Viennese history, one sees how little events start to have larger ramifications and how isolated events actually do have influence on a larger whole. One can also see how the milieu shapes the individual who can in turn, shape the milieu.

Zweig's name is no longer recognized as a major writer now, although he was the most translated author during his heyday. He was friends with some of the most well-known names of culture and intelligentsia: Rilke, Freud, Richard Strauss, Maksim Gorky and so on. He penned a wide variety of works from biographical studies to novellas and operas. World of Yesterday, however, is his memoir, published after his suicide of 1942. I was initially attracted to this book because of my current interest in turn-of-the-century Vienna. However, after reading WoY, new doors of inquiry have opened in my mind. I saw Vienna in its pivotal historical moment, inhabiting a crossroads where decisions were made (not only by politicians, but also by ordinary people who chose to turn away their heads) that affected Europe's course. Zweig lived during an incredibly tumultuous time; not only was culture brimming with prospects, but ideas were spilling forth and co-mingling in literature, music, visual arts and philosophy. Zweig travelled across Europe- writing, thinking and meeting other great artists. He writes of a moment he was privileged to witness the creative fire in Rodin. He speaks fondly of his encounters with Rilke- a gentle, sensitive man. And he gives a picture of Europe before the two great wars. He expresses his disappointment of Europe's change after WWI- and the horrors which befell Vienna right before WWII. This is an amazing read- and after reading it I became more fascinated by this man who lived through all experiences, in fact, I went a bought a few more books on him! I also saw a connection between what happened in Vienna and what could possibly happen here in the US- it is a warning. Although this memoir greatly informs, there is a strange elusive quality to Zweig. He does not really let you in, for example, as you are reading- all of a sudden, there is a wife! Who is this wife? What is her name? How did they meet? He never tells you- nor does he tell you that this marriage ends and as he is about to leave England for Brazil, he gets married to another woman. Nor does he reveal what internal processes he undergoes, nor does he reveal some insight of why he has become the person he is. No matter- I guess one can read other biographies on Zweig to get these answers (there is one penned by his first wife, Frederika).

A story mixed with finding one's double and some discoursing on art and duplicity. The narrator attempts the pefect murder under the guise of suicide. He is perceptually flawed, since he does not have the objectivity to see if the double he has selected can really pass for himself. The authorities reveal his crime as defective. Nabokov somehow entertwins some ideas on literary criticism parallelling with how the media persecutes the murderer within the story. Should you read it? Yes, if you like Nabokov and if you like stories of psychologically questionable characters.

The devil arrives in Moscow: heads will roll, money falls from the ceiling, people fight over haunted apartments. In an institution run by Stravinsky, a writer driven mad by critics, meets a poet driven mad by seeing a large cat. Magarita, handpicked by Satan, is turned into a witch, while her housekeeper also turns into a witch and rides Magarita's husband, who is turned into a pig. Overall, a rollicking satire with a hint of sadness. And cats will do the strangest things.

I read this book last summer (June 2006). It’s a pretty good book if you like to learn things and travel vicariously. An I don't mean that flippantly. Each chapter is dedicated to a color, or in the case of the black/ brown chapter which is focused on the two. What I liked most about this book is how Finlay bounces her narrative from the stories of the past to her present travels and research. She steps in cow poo in India, goes snail hunting in Mexico then crashes a Mixtec wedding and travels within post 9/11 Afghanistan. Interspersed throughout her adventure accounts are stories of historical figures: Napoleon, George Washington and French naturalist, Thiery de Menonville. Its an accessible read, with plenty of science and facts thrown in to make it credible, yet it doesn't simplify it's subject.

I have never read any Murakami's books, but I became obssessed with the need to read After, Dark when I read a review. It was worth the hunt. What struck me most is the point of view within the book. The reader is a "neutral ouside witness" spoken to by a comforting, semi-omniscent speaker. We see it as though we are looking through the camera lens, swooping down on the characters' actions and conversations. Most of what we do learn about the characters are revealed by themselves in conversation. All these little notices cannot convey the pleasure of reading the novel. The language is simple but not simplistic and the pacing moves ahead with out feeling rushed. Most importantly, the characters are enjoyable to read, yet they maintain a mysterious air. After Dark, I found, is a pretty good novel to start off your summer reading.

One disclaimer from the notes above- Hemingway actually introduced Fitzgerald to Gertrude Stein. Friendships between two people are always fraught with delight and antagonistic complexity. A friendship between two writers, with differing temperaments, can be a difficult tale to capture. I have read individual biographies of Hemingway and Fitzgerald, but this biography of their friendship can satiate the most curious and voyeuristic. Starting with Hemingway?s and Fitzgerald?s early love jolts to their embittered and forsaken end, Donaldson draws the tale of their early and close friendship to their later, competitive yet endeared letters. Donaldson also dispels with some of the incorrect myths which may have arisen partly from Hemingway?s damning and fictional memoir, along with other spurious stories about the two. It is a great tale of two men who have been greatly mythologized: Hemingway with his machismo and womanizing, man of action, known more for his feats than his novels; and Fitzgerald, dissipated, drunken and defeated. Donaldson brings forth some revealing sources from letters and journals. Occasionally he delves into some irritating psychoanalysis, but overall this book fulfilled my current ?lost generation? fix.

Reading Prose?s book vindicates my desire for a life-long career in reading. In fact, it inspired me to become a closer and more attentive reader. She goes through, methodically, chapter by chapter, in exhibiting the foundations of a writer?s craft: words, sentences, paragraphs and etc. In each of these chapters she imparts absorbing examples of writing culled from solid literary works. Just to read the excerpts would be enough reason to read the book, but Prose?s swift delight in reading infects you, the reader. Who cares if anyone ever writes a damn thing again? Prose unfastens an amazing panoply of works out there. You could spend the better years of your life reading very carefully, and in doing so, you would deepen your life.

I usually do not read books like this, but a friend laugh-heartedly recommended it. Just hilarous. Images of Kornbluth's father will never leave my mind: a large, naked man dusted with babypowder singing the Internationale. Kornbluth writes of his childhood with irreverance and warm humor, and even though it is tinged with pathos, you're still glad that his parents were such manic characters, so that you can read about it later. The stories are witty and punchy and so funny that I, in turn, recommended iut to a few other people, including my friend who was her way to the emergency room. She was leaving out the door and I thrust it into her hands, I think she needed cheering up. It helped, she stated later.

I visited the MJT during my only trip to LA. It spellbounded me, and I bought the book in hopes of continuing the delight and strangeness of the place. It is a good substitute, but not as good as the real place. Reading it, I realised that Weschler will never fully uncover the mystery of MJT, but his attempts lead him to a more provocative space. Reading this book, you start to think about some about tangential questions: how to we categorize what we think we know, and what is the basis of knowledge. If we see information institutionalized, as in a setting of a museum, isn't faith that allows us to believe that such a thing is real? MJT may approach being something like a genuis hoax, but Weschler's book is no hoax.

I definitely lost a night of sleep over this book. Keirnan summons a gripping tale of a reformed alcoholic psychic, Deacon, and a series of eerie, terrorizing murders. Deacon is led to his friend's murder by police and is haunted by the sinister images of the killer: a young woman with yellow eyes, on a killing spree in order to acquire something unreal. I usually don't read horror, but I've read a few of Kiernan's novels. She has a very descriptive style which draws you into the atmosphere of the story; her characters are sympathetic, and are often outsiders wrestling with their own psychological struggles. Low Red Moon is a great weekend read.

Stiff, hands down, is the most entertaining book I've read this summer. It covers the usual cadaver info: like car crash tests down with cadavers, or the University of Tennessee lab of decomposing cadavers (for forensic studies). But it also goes into the morbid history of head transplants- which includes sories of two headed dogs and the attempts to revitalize guillotine victims' heads. I was laughing out loud at Roach's antics in uncovering a newspaper story (rumor). She travels to China to track down a crematorium, where, supposedly a worker there cut off the buttocks of dead people and sold the cheeks to a local restaurant. The next to last chapter is the strangest, it presents the newest ways to dispose of your dead body. You can either compost or disintergrate your tissues. I won't give it away in case you want to read it for yourself. Roach writes in a witty, casual way which allows all these strange stories to be very easily digestible.

A very revealing book of two great intellects. J-P Sartre and Beaver (Sartre's nickname for Beauvoir) fall in love while young and are at the university. They create a pact where they would never marry or expect monogamy, but would be closest friends and intellectual collaborators for the whole of their lives. And that's what happens. Of course, it gets much messier. I admired de Beauvoir's independence and her devotion to her intellectual life, but sometimes, I could imagine that the romantic entanglements would get in the way. The demands of lovers can trivialize the mind. I believe her passion for her other lovers were deep and passionate, but her relationship with Sartre was the one she would rather have. As for Sartre, often I think his desire for seduction was a compulsion, yet he never ended a relationship cold. He continued to be in touch (if mutually accepted) and even supported many of the women he had affairs with. Dispute his incurable philandering; he was touted as generous, with his time and money. A sordid read, yet it fascinates and it never belittles their lives into gossipy land.

Honestly, I never really knew much about the Black Dahlia murder until I read the review of this book in late Sept. I became fascinated by the book, since I had studied Surrealism, with many different angles, as an art history student. This connection of surrealism to a murder was a radically strange approach for me. It is irrelevant whether or not they solve the murder by the end of this book. I appreciated the analysis connecting the Short's sadly fragmented body with the often grotesque female body depicted by surrealist artists. Nelson & Bayliss do a pretty good job of discussing this horrific crime without dipping into crass sensationalism (which would have been easy to do with all the Black Dahlia interest now- with the movie et all.). The writers stay focused in presenting coherent and cogent art evidence to back up their claim. They discussed art works that are not very known, showing the depth of their research. The chapter on the art world connections with Hollywood insiders could be a book in of itself. Overall, the book was an engrossing and nimble read; perfect for a couple of quiet evenings with a glass of wine.

It is a difficult book to explain. It fits within the strange and perverse literary universe, between Lautr?amont's Songs of Maldoror and Alfred Jarry's Days & Nights. Complicated, perverse and at times unwieldy, I was mesmerized and overwhelmed, simultaneously. I vacillated between being unable to put the book down, to being incapable of reading another sentence; but I finished it. Written in a language that is phantasmagoric and punful, even in translation, with grotesque and unreal characters; it has a basic story plot: a coming of age story for the main character, Genezip Kapen, and his initiation into the sexual world of women. His initial sexual, romantic relationship (and involvement with a group of artistic sadists) eventually corrupts him and he loses his mind. Genezip, or Zip, runs off to join the military and then has a few more mind-loosening romances, which he ends up committing and participating in some unforeseeable acts. Zip occupies an unsettling world, where Europe is under threat of Communist China's takeover, and Poland is embroiled in war with China. After all, Insatiability is a difficult novel to write about, because it spans so many ideas that it would take another book to explain it all. It doesn't deal with the development of characters, rather, the characters- like Zip, is an unfolding of a reaction. What happens when a young, freedom seeker comes into contact with decadence, artistic ideas, unfettered sexuality, and war? It is as though Witkiewicz decided to conduct an experiment in a future world where values and intimacy and been replaced by lust and neurosis, and the novel became the document. Witkiewicz wrote Insatiability during the two world wars; the erosion of idealism and the political anxiety for the future are presented. Witkiewicz throws his combating constructs of art, politics, and individuality into the word mix which make up this novel. A painter, playwright, philosopher, he used his novels as a hulking receptacle where these raucous conceits run amok. I can imagine a near future where Witkiewicz's novels, and aesthetics, become fodder fir the academic mill. His work is perfect for the loveless deconstructions of a perspired graduate student. Perhaps it has already begun. There's so much to analyze, even in just this novel. Topics for papers could include: insatiability as a mind state, the multiple references to cocaine and drug use, aberrant sexuality, women as savior and destroyer, and, the dehumanization of Zip. I hope these droll papers are never doled out. I hope people just discover this book and want to read it. Because it is a crazy and fascinating read.