Coast-to-coast commentary about books
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So what was the question exactly?
The Question of Bruno, by Aleksandar Hemon This was one of those literary debuts that garners the sorts of reviews that writers daydream about while sharpening pencils. “Not just extraordinary stories but an extraordinary writer…” “The man is a maestro, a conjurer, a channeler of universes…” Good grief, I’m not sure I ever came up
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Damn, I was going to write this piece
Damn, I was going to write this piece
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Without the number, you are nothing in this country. Balbino Lopez Hernandez, a now-unemployed illegal immigrant without a Social Security number, as quoted in the New York Times
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The Raw and the Sushi
The Raw Shark Texts, by Steven Hall So, the first thing you should know about this book is that it has nothing to do with Hunter Thompson. The next thing you should know is that this is a fairly successful attempt to meld metafiction, maximalism, and mystery novel, or perhaps better said, it’s a cross
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Farewell, Prince
The Prince of the Marshes, by Rory Stewart I know have should have liked this book. All the reviewers loved it. It was supposed to be a great portrait of a little-known and misunderstood place. And I did love “The Places In Between,” Stewart’s record of his absurd hike across Afghanistan in early 2002. But
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Puny Gods
The Lords of Finance by Liaquat Ahamed I suppose I came to this book, a history of the financial devastation the crash of 1929 and the Great Depression that followed it, looking for comfort. And I suppose I did get some comfort from it. Say what you will about Tim Geithner or Henry Paulson –
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The Earth Shall Weep
This is a broad history of the Americans – that is, the natives of North America, post Columbus. It’s a painful story, of course, and the author, James Wilson, sometimes gives in to shrillness. Much of the book covers material that I have read elsewhere, and oftentimes better, but it seemed disrespectful somehow not to
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Caught Stealing
Hard-boiled, mistaken-identity caper featuring Russian gangsters, poetic thugs, drinking buddies who just happen to be heavily armed, and a downtown (present day) New York that never ever existed. This is one violent ass book. Man, is it blood-soaked. I generally bail on books that get this graphic. I also generally bail on books that are
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Leonardo da Vinci
So, after reading Gombrich’s Story of Art, I was intrigued by the figure of Leonardo and wanted to learn more. I picked up this impressionistic volume by Sherwin Nuland, whose name I was familiar with as the author of “How We Die,” which is basically what it sounds like – a description of what happens
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The Story of Art
Somehow I got through four years of liberal education without taking a survey-style course of art history. I was in the airport, with a couple crummy mysteries (see previous entries!) and saw the old Art 101 standby on a shelf, a cunningly packaged volume from Phaidon about the size of a Robert Ludlum thriller. The
Far From Brooklyn 