Customer Comments

It's truly a joy to spend some time in Rudolf Nureyev's world (and it is a nice chunk of time...700 pages of biography not including an extra 100 pages of notes and an exhaustive bibliography). Perhaps it's the length, however, that proved too monumental for Kavanagh. Much like Rudik, Kavanagh over-extends with wild abandon at times that make for some alarmingly obvious writing gaffes, grammatical and otherwise. Getting over that, she paints a vivid picture, if not a full-on mural, of one of dance's greatest 20th century pop stars. Heartbreaking, audacious and bombastic.

Puccini is sex on a stage and Berger's comprehensive yet not overwhelming compendium is almost as fun as sitting in the back of an opera house hearing "Nessun Dorma" or "O Soave Fanciulla." Moreover, both Berger and Puccini have that rare ability to appease both opera neophytes and seasoned aficionados. Refer to this tome as a last minute primer before a night at the opera, or spend a weekend afternoon poring through all 480 pages while listening to La Rondine and sipping some vino. Don't own a Puccini CD? Berger can help you out with that as well.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as re-imagined by Geoff Dyer or Don DeLillo. McCarthy argues that, in a culture driven by authenticity, blessed little is actually authentic. Great winter-of-our-discontent read.

As a Middle Eastern-American/New Yorker, I felt a connection to Porochista Khakpour that led to my picking up a copy of Sons...Flammable Objects. Her New York Diet interview with Grub Street mentioned her flair for juxtaposing the fantastic with the mundane (Fruity Pebbles and Pringles set against the backdrop of September 11th and inter-generational inter-cultural reckonings). Unfortunately, it fell too flat too soon for me. I know I'm in the minority here, but so are the Iranian-American family at the center of this novel. Regardless, I look forward to seeing Khakpour develop and mature as a writer, in her second or third novel she may make me quake in my boots.

In our multi-billion dollar bailout-laden times, I like to turn back to dear Bear and his box. Most of us remember the Bears in our lives--or the times when we were a Bear for someone else--and at that moment nothing seems more wonderful and amazing than a small empty box. And that truly is "the greatest thing ever." So, indeed, thank you Bear. And thank you Greg Foley.

Stunning. Accessible enough for those who don't know their Beethoven from their Britten, but with an extra layer that will make music majors grin. Ford's depiction of a collision between East and West (in the 1989 sense), though seemingly formulaic (love story gone awry, troubled mentor with a mysterious past), is carried through with the grace and talent of a chamber piece. His sense of setting and time are deft and I wanted to stay longer in main character Cooper Barrow's dystopia.

I dove for this after tearing through Pessl's "Special Topics in Calamity Physics," eager for another literary suspense-cum-prep school confidential tome. The beginning was a bit denser than I'd anticipated, yet after slogging through the first 50 or 75 pages I soon began tearing through the book. Tartt's language is bleak and beautiful, evoking the solitude and splendor of college town Vermont. Clearly she has done her Greek homework, fashioning a tragedy worthy of Sophocles or Euripides around a rather motley group of students religiously devoting their studies to the culture and history that would ultimately determine their own fates. The story is utterly mind-nourishing and when it comes to a head in one felt crescendo, it's breathtaking.