The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (Michael Chabon)

Sum it up in ten words: Decades spanning tale of friendship, comic books and loves lost.

So what?: The endorsements garnered by novels tend to be back-slapping and cringe-worthy gushing from third rate publications hoping to get their names stitched into the book jacket. However, those for ...Kavalier & Clay are from big-hitters earmarking it as one for all times. And, I have to agree.

The 600+ page story tales the friendship of Joe Kavalier - a refugee from Nazi-invaded Prague - and his cousin, New Yorker Sam Clay as they attempt to crack the burgeoning business of comic books. The endearing friendship sits at the heart of a story that takes in the horrifying ascent of Nazism, personal tussles with sexuality, fame, fortune and frozen tundra all told with knowledge, authenticity and a core centre of humour.

Closeted Clay is the brains of the outfit, while fleeing Kavalier is etched so beautifully as a man without a land desperately attended to by a bohemian girlfriend but never knowing his place in the war torn world. The Superman-baiting hero creation of the central pair - The Escapist - plays a central theme for all involved, as you cannot help but shed a tear for both character's journeys across continents and divides in a bid to find out who they are.

How pretentious will it make me look: 3/5. Chabon (Not 'chamon' al a Michael Jackson) is growing in popularity and this totemic piece is surely going to get more heads wagging even though it has been out a while. Oh and it won a bloody Pulitzer.

 

 

 

 

The Turnaround (George Pelecanos)

Sum it up in ten words: Characters come to terms with a racist incident from 1970.

So what?: Ten words was not nearly enough, it is essentially a multi-narrative plot following everyone involved in an incident in 1970s Washington D.C, which sees a racist teen 'playing a prank' get shot dead by an aggrieved black teen. The 'Turnaround' of the title being the dead-end that traps the boys in the incident and also how their lives are similar spun 180.

Cleverly running the story from the sides of how a young Greek man - a passenger in the incident - and one young black man - whose brother pulled the trigger - come to terms with the life defining debacle is a stroke of genius, and Pelecanos expertly weaves the stories close together and even through each other to lay the foundations of the tale.

Having penned some of the key episodes of perennial-bummed The Wire, Pelecanos take on the mechanics of drugs, the racial division along class lines and the measured story-telling of the cop drama, which all adds up to create a page-turning thriller that never quite thrills, with the final switch-a-roo somewhat telegraphed eighty pages before the big reveal.

The verisimilitude and scene-setting detail Pelecanos imbibes the book with is at times engrossing and at others it feels bloated showing off. His take on modern ebonics, for example, can at points be cringe-worthy but if his research is as thorough as that undertaken to pen The Wire then people just talk oddly.

How pretentious will it make me look?: 2/5. Nobody has heard of it but it is written by someone involved with The Wire, so expect a knowing nod from anyone with a copy of The Guardian tucked under their arm.

 

 

 

 

Engleby (Sebastian Faulks)

 Sum up the plot in ten words: Misanthrope teen grows into misanthrope man and maybe kills people.

 

 So what? Channelling Catcher in the Rye through a working-class view of middle England, Faulks opens up with an engaging view of seventies university life at an unnamed historic institution in the Fenlands *cough* Cambridge *cough*. However, the fetishist view of cigarettes and recreational drugs gives way to a deeply psychological deconstruction of a horribly unstable man following the disappearance of his unrequited love.

 The main drawback is that Faulks is obviously a huge fan of the working-class-cum-cad-about-town Engleby and there is a feeling that the author imagines he is painting a character for the ages rather than a simple lead, which ends in a bizarre ascent through upper class England and unnecessary cameos from the likes of Jeffrey Archer. This book is not to be read when already in a depressive mindset, as the rye humour that underscores the opening is overshadowed by a cobbled together who-dunnit and a bloated and tiresome finale.

 How pretentious will it make me look?: 3/5. It's Faulks at the end of the day but still it sits neatly on 3-for-2 tables across the country.

 

 

 

  

The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)

Sum the plot up in ten words: Andalusian shepherd has dreams of gold and journey to Africa.

So what?: In text big enough to be read from space, Coelho's bereft - clocking in at little over 170 pages - tale of adventure and intrigue is almost Old Testament in its whimsical journey complete with tests and discovery.

However, there are no religious overtones, with nature playing more of an important part than God in what is a very easy read. Coelho weaves such dynamic characters in such swift strokes that you connect with the young, starry-eyed shepherd simply due to his dogged dictum of everything being an omen for something.

 Well paced, even in moments where you think the unlikely lad is on the brink of being killed, and despite its tribal mysticism and weird excursions - such as the Sun and the Wind having a chat - it remains a joyful and breezy read.

 How pretentious will it make you look: 4/5. Having been translated into 67 languages and sold 150 million copies, you haven't just missed this bandwagon but the bandwagon-making company turned into an ultra force in band transport before the downturn saw the company part nationalised. Chuckle, chuckle, topical and that.

 

 

 

  

 

Bone in the Throat, (Anthony Bourdain)

Sum up the plot in ten words: NY mob operates through a lowly restaurant and unwitting staff.

So what?: The mafia, in my opinion, is something hard to get right. Their customs, idiosyncrasies and various codes can either be completely ignored or overly study but Bourdain does it all justice in a page-turning network of informants, bumbling mobsters and restauranteurs.

Tommy Pagnano fills the shoes of hero, the nephew of local mobster Sally Wig, but very much distanced himself from the proceedings. He's content to work at scheming former dentist Harvey's restaurant along with junkie chef pal Michel, while various mob and FBI bodies muddle around the property searching for the Freddie Manso's body. As people come out of the woodwork and start flipping over to be informants you are soon drawn into a world in which you either kill or be killed.

Bourdain's rich culinary leanings, being a former chef and all, somewhat overbears on the story rather than bolster it with authenticity and it's in his portrayals of Sally Wig and his crew of trigger man Skinny and rookie Victor that he manages to paint a coarse image of the trapped nature of the mob. Brilliant dialogue, graphic violence worthy of Cronenburg and well round survivalist characters.

 How pretentious will this make me look? In literary circles the mafia languish with serial killers in the book equivalent of pop music. For people with limited mental faculties and in search of a cheap thrill. Shame really.

  

The Road (Cormac McCarthy)

Sum up the plot in ten words: Kid and his papa trek across the scorched apocalyptic world

 

So what?: There was something raw and...Texan about No Country..., while this is an entirely different proposition; downcast and probing. McCarthy throws up questions ranging from ethics in crisis to greater theological discussion, all set against the backdrop of the decaying world from an unreported maelstrom. (Psstt...I don't know what that means but I'm trying to be like Cormac and use sometimes impenetrable and esoteric language...wink).

 The story is long and winding, like the road itself, and at times you feel disassociated from the action but when action hits it's like a cymbal clash in a studious library. You get the belief that The Man knows what he's doing and that's why they have survived so long but at any time they could meet with disaster. The scenario is bleak and McCarthy is a master of despair in the same way Stephen King has harnessed horror.

 How pretentious will it make you look?: 3/5. It's very dark but Oprah did make it 'Book of the Buttfucking Week' so you may look like an ambling fool running behind the bandwagon.

 

 

 

 

Dermaphoria (Craig Clevenger)

Sum it up in ten words: Drug-making smart-arse burns down lab and infuriates mob.

So what?: In The Contortionist's Handbook Clevenger crafted a character shorn from the annals of anti-hero brilliance; a likeable criminal with a smart mouth and a perceptive nature. The problem with Dermaphoria lies in the fact that you never experience the same affinity with its lead Eric.

 In the haze of over-written background and knowingly complex characters, Eric attempts to retrace the steps that led to his imprisonment for arson. However, his mind is as twisted as the plot and amidst his intense paranoia the drug-scratched pieces of his past fall into place.

 The network within which Eric operates is engrossing - codenames, safe houses and sleeper cells - but the abrupt finale doesn't quite match the insular and confusing crafting Clevenger has evidently spent into the pages that went before them.

 How pretentious will it make me look?: 3/5. People won't know what it is but the title may lead them to think it's some vestige of Jungian philosophy.

 

 

 

 

The Winter of Frankie Machine (Don Winslow)

Sum it up in ten words: Gangster retires happily until old enemies come out at night.

So what?: Recently optioned by Michael Mann with big ol' Bobby De Niro set to play the titular Frank Macchiano, this is a cat-and-mouse tale to end them all. Featuring more vigs, slugs, capos and hits than a Sicilian/American dictionary and very very hard to put down. The shit hits the fan when Frankie is asked a favour by the boss of LA's idiot son and when he goes to help he is met with a garrot wire neckerchief. After a bloody scuffle Frankie tries to work out who and why people are trying to kill him.

 The heart of the piece is Machine. Frankie is intelligent and likeable, which is imperative to the story. His previous gangster ways are explained without being preachy and when his old life comes a-calling you get a look at how 'the game' has changed. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends and the methodical hitman (hence 'The Machine') turned bait salesman relies on every single skill he has to stay one step ahead of the new school of made guys who want him dead.

 How pretentious will it make me look?: 0/5. To be honest bub, it's a book about gangsters. People would usually think you've just learnt to read but don't let that put you off an enthralling book.

The Past is a Foreign Country (Gianrico Carofiglio)

How pretentious will it make me look?: Aim for a 3. You're reading Italian crime fiction that doesn't involve the Mafia and deals with psychology. More Sondheim than Scorcese.

 
Then We Came to End (Joshua Ferris)



Sum it up in ten words: People work without knowing what they are doing or why.


So what?: In honesty, ten words would never be enough. Ferris' cutely conceived tale of office neurotica hides behind a plural lead ('We...') that works alarmingly well to craft the idiosyncharsies that befall 9-5ers the world over. This is essentially Clerks for people who wear a tie to work. Characters have tragedies and triumphs but in equal measure without over powering the diary aspect of the anonymous narrator. You find yourself chortling at jokes that have been fifty pages in the making; good to the point that you can't really explain to anyone why it is. Like an in-joke you have been invited to join.


How pretentious will it make me look?: Not hugely up-its-own-arse but if you pitched up at your first day at Diamond Car Insurance clutching it you may look a right charlie.












 No Country For Old Men (Cormac McCarthy)

 

 

 Sum it up in ten words: Loser finds money in desert, psycho and sheriff track him.

 

 So what?: The phrase 'couldn't put it down' is over-used. Of course you can. It's just a book. But when I found myself eagerly thumbing through the final pages sat in a car park I realised how engrossing this little macarbe tale of cat-and-mouse is. Moss - the money finding lead - isn't likeable, his predator (Chigurh) is hellspawn but Sheriff Bell is a whimsical Texas gent. Written in south dialect you have to wade through the 'Yessirs' and 'I reckond's to keep pace but its worth it. The breathless pursuit of the first two thirds is enthralling matched by Chigurh's penchant for ruthless violence and, while slightly out of tone, the denoument with Bell's conscience is an excellent character study.

 

How pretentious will it make me look?: With the eagerly anticipated Coen Brother's film wowing Cannes it is a definite poseur grade of 3.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lullaby (Chuck Palahniuk)

 

Sum it up in ten words: Old african poem kills listeners and some try to intervene.

 

So what?: Riding on the success of Fight Club, pop icon Palahniuk comes back with his fifth novel featuring the interesting concept of an ancient culling poem being told as a bedtime lullaby resulting in massive amounts of cot death. The disaffected lead Carl Streator attempts to resolve his own loss by riding the world of the poem but isn't afraid to use it on those that get in his way. Joined by a power hungry female, a hippy youth and a spoilt eco warrior, Streator attempts to chase down a former colleague who is using the lullaby to his own sickening ends. This was my first incident with Palahniuk and found it, at times, befuddling. Clumsily written with a severe pessism running through the bleak meandering plot. The speed and short size manage to keep you glued to the work but never really engrossed.

 

Rating: 3/5.On the back of Fight Club  you're going to look like a cock jumping on this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slaughter-House Five (Kurt Vonnegut)

 

Sum it up in ten words: Time-travelling soldier may or may not have been abducted.

 

So what?: Vonnengut just died and left behind a legacy of offbeat and cult books which have really divided literary opinion. Here, Vonnengut's protagonist Billy Pilgrim fritters between age, war and peacetime and even this galaxy when discussing his hapless turn in the Second World War which he keeps revisiting due to an abduction that placed him in a faraway intergalatic zoo many years before. If the premise turns your screws than the book will as well. Richly written with a knowing nod to events that have gone or are coming in a highly intelligent plot spanning war/science fiction and human interest. Classic Kurt. 

 

How pretentious will it make me look?: 3/5. Now that he's dead his stock will rise a little more and possible raise sneers from the Waterstone clerk sick of dealing with his trippy ways.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Hunter S. Thompson)

Sum it up in ten words: Journo and lawyer go to Vegas on every drug avaliable.

 

So What?: This should be handed out to two groups of people: children and journalists. For one it shows the long term effects of getting absolutely fucking blotto'd on everything from mescaline to ether and back again while the main character also manages to avoid being taken in by the police convention he's supposed to be avoiding. Depp and Del Toro did it justice on the big screen but the dirty, diary feel of Thompson's work has a freshness that captures the rank Vegas of the seventies and invites you into the party but won't hold your hair back when you start being sick. The humour runs through it like a constant stream only outstripped by their incessant indulgence and Raoul Duke's irrerevent straightman to the Chicano tomfoolery of Dr. Gonzo. A definite must for any collegiate looking to experiment and unsure of the consequences.

 

How pretentious will it make me look?: 1/5. More 'cult classic' than 'Make you look like a cock classic'.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foucault's Pendulum (Umberto Eco)

Sum it Up in Ten Words: Three publishers make up lies and get chased by Templars.

 

So What?: Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ. This was like penetrating a bank vault on a pogo stick dressed as Alan Sugar - impossible, unpredictable and weird. From the get go you know that a History MA would have been a useful companion as the book delves into more intricate detail than was needed to build a major modern city. The story is engrossing once you get into it and that took some two hundred pages of flip-flopping between characters, countries and also languages. Eco is a famed fan of minituate and this is no different as he reams of his vast knowledge over a very bourgeiose setting of dissidents and secret sects. The three main characters begin to link all world history and this really fucks off the Knights of Templar. This has been called 'the thinking man's Da Vinci Code' seemingly dependent on the man thinking about astro-physics, global conspiracies and lamenting the lack of books written in foreign language/English.

 

How pretentious will it make you look?:  5 on 5.

 

 

 

If you carried this around a small circle may open up around you or shouts of 'witch' may greet you. Good read once you get smart.

 

 Kiss Me, Judas, (William Christopher Baer)

Sum it up in ten words: Man wakes up with missing kidney, falls for the culprit.

 

So what?: This is an exceptionally bleak and twisting narrative that is pulsating from the get go as our lead goes back and forth between controlling his chattering teeth in an ice bath and a simulataneous story of chatting up a mysterious lady. Baer seems to have drawn upon every single taboo subject - prostitutes, unnecessary surgery, incest, murder, dog-fighting and drug use - to create a vile and throbbing thriller that'll keep you as involved as if it were your kidney in the lead's ice box. Mixed stories of love and betrayal become commonplace, even if it veers off at time, and the array of secondary characters creates a rich tapestry of intrigue right down to anti-climatic finale.

 

How pretentious will it make me look?: 2/5 Twats. Nobody'll heard of it but it isn't going to be lining any 2/3 offers either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Contortionist's Handbook (Craig Clevenger)

 

Sum it up in ten words: Possible junkie/identity theif must convince State he's not suicidal.

 

So what?: Coming equipped with enough pop culture icon praise to make you think it was written by the Indie equivalent of Jesus (don't you fucking dare say Pete Doherty) you'd almost expect a transparent let down but what you get is a cleverly composed tale of debuachery by a cynical craftsmen. The detail is frightening - from psychiatric evaluation to money laundering to the type of paper to use to correctly create a fake social security card and also the understated by vitally important backstory that gives meaning to our protagonist's actions. The lead is a little too likeable for his misdeeds but is soon brought down to earth with a thud whenever a 'God-splitter' hits...that being one of his phantom headaches that ultimately leads to an overdose as he attempts to quell the pain. The lead (Fletcher/Vincent/et al) is a master forger and highly intelligent but, as he constantly reminds the reader, he is very capable of stupid things. However, Clevenger although obviously of the same ilk as his creation, paints a vivid yet seedy image of life on the underbelly. The film looms on the horizon.

 

How pretentious will it make me look?: 3/5. Good book to get spotted reading in Starbucks...if you are a cock.