Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

From The Week of November 19, 2012
For all that we aspire to achieve freedom, few of us manage to ever taste its glorious fruit. For even if we succeed in throwing off the government-imposed shackles that bind our bodies -- no simple feat in its own right --, the cognitive chains that burden our thoughts yet remain. These limitations, imposed by our ideologies, by our biases, by our prejudices and by our classes are so potent that it matters not if our bodies are free. For if the mind is enslaved to a cruel or destructive worldview, then what does it matter if the flesh is free to move about as it pleases? The mind is the engine. The mind is the light. The mind is the seed of civilization and the only defense we have against the lies and the deceptions that are imposed upon us and that we impose upon ourselves. Mr. Mitchell vividly demonstrates this truth in his narratively complex but eminently readable piece of genre-busting speculative fiction.

From the unfathomable expanse of the South Pacific to underground hideaways in Korea, from the industrializing colonialism of the 19th century to the despotic, technocratic states of the near future, six disconnected souls wage their own little wars against ignorance, deception and the vicissitudes of time. A gullible notary, a frustrated musician, a dogged journalist, a hapless publisher, a brave martyr and a curious villager should not have anything in common, particularly when each of them belong to their own space and time. And yet not only do they each battle against the lies that hope to bind them, they each manage to relate to the reader their histories in a way that will leave, at least in some, a lasting legacy of truth and determination. Of love and war, of justice and corruption, these are their stories.

Though it falls short of the lofty heights to which some have uplifted it, Cloud Atlas is a work rewarding thanks to its tangled nature, not in spite of it. Comprised of six loosely connected narratives, the plot is essentially one, long boomerang toss, with each of the stories progressing in chronological order until their midpoints at which they are each interrupted and compelled to give way to the next story in the chain. This succession ends at the farthest point in the future, or halfway through the book, where upon the narrative curves back on itself, telling the latter half of all six tales in reverse order until it concludes not long after the point at which it began. This not only generates suspense by making something of a mystery out of each of its tales, it allows Mr. Mitchell to unleash upon his readers the book's greatest virtue, its patois.

Each protagonist is given distinct and sometimes difficult dialects, each of which, while at times labyrinthine, wonderfully embed the reader into the different periods in which he finds himself. This spares Mr. Mitchell the laborious effort of constructing vivid settings for each of his tales. His use of language does it for him, conveying not only social trends but the degrees to which the characters are educated, foolish and idealistic. Rarely has this device been deployed so effectively. For at times, the reader needs only a paragraph or two to understand that he has entered a very different mind locked in a very different world.

For all its linguistic and structural virtues, though, Cloud Atlas is at times overly simplistic and tonally deaf. His book envisions a future in which corporate branding consumes not only our culture but the nation state itself, a fear which largely spent its energy in the last two decades of the 20th century. Here, it smacks of a means by which Mr. Mitchell can express his skills at wordsmithing which is beneath the dignity of his novel. Moreover, the author's decision to transition between humor and seriousness, from tragicomedy to deathly struggle, left this reader cold. At times, the humor helped to make the work seem human, but this came at the cost of the gravity of some of its tales, leeching them of the import I would have otherwise bestowed upon them.

Cloud Atlas is an ambitious work that rises well above the fray of modern-day speculative fiction. For this, it should be celebrated as a success. However, it is also reminiscent of a wonderful golf shot that pulls up a few feet from the hole. Almost brilliant, but just...not...quite. (4/5 Stars)

Excession by Iain M. Banks

From The Week of October 22, 2012 We can only know what we know. While at first this statement may seem ridiculously obvious, it holds deeper truths. For while it is easy enough to confront a difficult problem and recognize that we lack the knowledge or the expertise to solve it, it is much harder to predict the manifestation of problems we cannot solve. For to predict such problems, we must be able to understand both our world and our universe much better than we do now. Only through understanding can come proper anticipation of the unknown. And even then, well, can anything short of a god perfectly anticipate the future? How should a society act when confronted with an unanticipatable problem, especially if it is an existential one? Should it attack it with vigor, or study it in hopes of future understanding? Mr. Banks speculates in one of the most thoughtful of his Culture novels.

Spanning much of the galaxy, the Culture is a multi-special, interstellar civilization of trillions of souls spread across thousands of worlds, orbital habitats and interstellar spacecraft. Governed by machine Minds that have in part transcended normal space, thus circumventing the laws of physics that apply to our reality, it is a post-scarcity, post-human, post-national collective driven and organized by a single primary purpose, the preservation and the protection of all forms of life, providing them a peaceful environment in which to acquire knowledge, experience pleasure and generally live as they choose. It is a utopia with teeth, a construct capable of defending itself and the egalitarianism it believes in.

However, a recently discovered anomaly threatens that existence. An object in space orbiting a dead star that appears to be older than the universe, Excession is, at best, a paradox. At worst, it is an incursion from another universe, another reality. It is what the Culture calls an Outside-context problem, a challenge it couldn't have predicted. With no planning in place to deal with such a problem, the Culture dispatches members of its Special circumstances division, a dirty tricks squad, to investigate, but foes of the Culture are aware of the existence of this mystery and they are determined to use it against their enemies. Time is short and the galaxy may well hang in the balance. For one, no one can anticipate the future.

Though at times burdened by wayward musings, Excession is a worthy and even gripping successor to the trio of early Culture novels that made Mr. Banks a master of speculative science fiction. Animated by alien environments, fatalistic humor, violent races and existential questions, it fuses together the funny with the macabre to create a typically British amalgam that startles as much as it entertains. Mr. Banks' characters here are as they ever were, interesting but ultimately disposable, a means to the end of his thought experiment. For in the Culture, no one man, one Mind, or one thing can save the galaxy. It cannot even save the Culture. Events are too broad, depend upon too many players, for a handful of individuals to change the fates of billions.

Instead, Mr. Banks deploys his characters as windows through which his readers can view key events in the history of the Culture, that most enviable and yet cloying of positive, galactic futures. For what else can be so simultaneously enriching and yet boring, so enlightening and yet numbing, than a civilization that requires nothing from the individual but to exist only as he sees fit? And yet, there is no outcome for our species more nobler than the one the Culture represents. It is a fascinating dichotomy.

Mr. Banks can, at times, overwhelm us with the vastness of his mindspaces. However, the degree to which they prod us to conceive of problems and possible futures prevents his work from ever slipping beneath the radar of the worthwhile. (3/5 Stars)

I Am America And So Can You by Stephen Colbert

From The Week of July 02, 2012

Satire is a powerful tool. By mocking that which is ridiculous, it can entertain while highlighting the many discordant notes that dominate the symphony of society. But whereas straight criticism can be, at times, pompous and strident, factious and political, satire nudges gently. With a wink, it teases us into a deeper examination of the absurdism that pervades our civilization. It's a craft well-harnessed by Mr. Colbert.

Originally a cast member of The Daily Show, Stephen Colbert has risen, in the last decade, to be one of the world's most influential comedians. His program, The Colbert Report, which was spun off from his appearances on The Daily Show, adopts the trappings of conservative punditry to give form to the absurdity of such media products as The O'Reilly Factor, making fun by adopting extremist positions that rely largely on illogical constructs. I Am America and So Can You brings Colbert's cult of personality to literature, summoning his bombastic and unapologetic facade to harpoon all the creatures of the left. Everyone from hipsters to gays, atheists to Hispanics, feel the sting of his comic arrows which, in hitting home, bring to life the nonsensical and even hurtful rationale upon which they are based.

Clocking in at a brisk 100-odd pages, I Am America And So Can You is an amusing romp through the cultural trappings of American life. From religion to the military, entertainment to the economy, Mr. Colbert lays out his unrestrained vision of the future which is, of course, dominated by the whimsical and inexplicable use of American power in every conceivable arena at home and abroad. But for as humorous as Mr. Colbert makes such absurdity, the kernel of truth upon which all good satire is based remains, reminding his readers that versions of these truths, obviously less varnished in humor, are out there, percolating through the world, spreading dismay and destruction with every impact on a soft target. And though Undermining these damaging arguments with comedy may well be the best means by which to drain the poison from such extremism, it remains a bellicose force that should concern us all.

This is an entertaining distraction, a charming reprieve from a world not glossed in such harmless absurdity. Were that all pundits as hapless as the hapless Stephen Colbert of Colbert Report fame. (3/5 Stars)

The Crown Conspiracy: Riyria Revelations 01 by Michael J. Sullivan

From The Week of January 02, 2012

Though the thief with a heart of gold is an old, tired literary trope, it endures in fiction for two reasons: our desire to believe that every soul is redeemable, no matter how roguish or self-interested, and our desire to invent the unattainable man who possesses skill, charm and the darkness to do the hard thing. Both emanate from the eccentricities of human nature, rooted as it is in our Judeo-Christian ethics. But as much as we might fancifully wish such dichotomies into existence, they must remain vanishingly rare. Selfishness and generosity are like oil and water; only calamity comes from mixing them together. They are mutually exclusive traits that are only combined for the sake of romance. Though there are other problems with Mr. Sullivan's novel, hobbling his protagonists with such illogical personalities is the doom of the piece.

For all but the privileged few, life in the kingdom of Melengar is often painful and always hard. Justice is a virtue that only the rich can access and even then its execution is an uncertain thing. For the whims and the schemes of powerful interests almost always trump the rights and the desires of the less fortunate. Such an environment provides fertile soil for men like Hadrian Blackwater and Royce Melborne, two talented thieves who are masters at a specialized form of justice, the kind their clients can pay for. No job is too tall, no scheme too intricate for this witty pair who are as skillful at the art of disguise as they are experts at the play of swords. So long as you can pay, they can deliver.

When the thieves are hired to steal a superstitious count's favorite sword from the royal chapel, caution is warranted. What if all is not as it seems? What if it is a trick? But the reward, which could set the two thieves up for life, is too high for Hadrian to resist. The thieves take the job, but when they steal into the palace and locate the royal chapel, there is no sword waiting for them. No, sprawled upon the marble is the corpse of Melengar's slain king, a knife in his back. Hadrian and Royce are the prime suspects and are jailed pending execution. But then a reprieve from an unlikely, royal source permits the two rogues the freedom they need to try to clear their sullied names. Thus begins an adventure that will take them across the breadth of Melengar in search of the most elusive property of all, the truth.

Though The Crown Conspiracy can lay claim to witty dialogue, a solid cast and a plot worthy of a half-decent action film, this is, in every respect, a superficial novel. Mr. Sullivan certainly has a talent for ensnaring his characters in entertaining traps from which he must creatively extract them, but the enjoyment the reader draws out of the pickles the author invents for his characters is in no way matched by the complete two-dimensionality of his protagonists. Hadrian and Royce are meant to be reluctant heros of the common man, fantasy robin hoods come to right wrongs while getting paid handsomely along the way. Instead, they are cardboard cutouts, inanimate objects programmed to spew witticisms and perform stunts. At no point do they coalesce into actual people. No, Mr. Sullivan never intended to write a fantasy classic; this is every bit fantasy pulp. But the great works from David Eddings and Raymond Feist, upon which he's clearly based his work, possessed characters as fully formed as its humor. Mr. Sullivan has captured the latter without even coming close to the former.

The Crown Conspiracy is perfect for pure escapism, for when something mindless is called for. But the absence of good characters here prevents the piece from possessing any kind of jeopardy. Impossible to invest in... (2/5 Stars)

To Prussia With Love by Roger Boyes

From The Week of January 02, 2012

Though they arrive at different moments and carry with them varying degrees of significance, every relationship experiences a moment of crisis, a crossroads at which its discontented parties, troubled by forces both internal and external, can decide to endure a rough patch of road for the sake of the long haul, or to call it a day and go their separate ways in the knowledge that they've extracted all the good that can come of their journey together . Those who choose the former transform their choice into a turning point of their relationship, a crucible whose endurance expands the scope of their love . The latter, meanwhile, consider themselves blessed to have quit while they were ahead. It's impossible to know which option is the right one for we lack the counterfactual, the playing out of the alternative scenario to which it must be compared . But we can be presented with the anatomy of such a crossroads and be asked to decide for ourselves . And this is precisely what Mr. Boyes has done with his humorous if unbelievable memoir.

Dogged by the pressures of work and the dissatisfactions of lives not lived to their liking, Mr. Boyes, a British ex-pat living and working in Germany, and Lena, his German girlfriend, are stuck in a rut. Not only is he not happy with his job working for a British newspaper obsessed with stories about neo-Nazis, she is exhausted by a life designing fashionable homes for rich divorcees with too much money. He is bored; she is overworked, a deadly combination that has drained their relationship of the fun it once enjoyed.

Imagine Mr. Boyes' surprise, then, when, at their darkest hour, a bolt from the blue starts them down an altogether new path. Lena, who inherited a family home in rural Prussia, hits upon the idea of reconnecting by slowly restoring the dilapidated home to its former glory. Both her idea and her gesture are eagerly accepted by Mr. Boyes who takes the project one step farther. What if they turn the home into a tourist attraction for British people abroad? Grants from the British government could cover the cost of the home's extensive repairs, delivering them a home for which they can be proud. Lena reluctantly accepts the scheme which proves to be disastrous for not only the house, its occupants and the interests of the local mayor, but also their relationship which the scheme was meant to salvage, not destroy . And yet, over bouts of food poisoning and sabotage, united in the face of weird servants and cricketing enemies, there remains a chance that they could still come together, made one by the perils of rustic Germany.

To Prussia With Love is a delightful and conceited romp, not only through the backwaters of Europe but the wilds of a seemingly unrescuable relationship. rom the start, our two protagonists seem hopelessly mismatched for one another, he boarish and singleminded, she suave and cultured, a characterization that is only re-enforced by the 200-odd pages of their adventure together . Their awkwardness is matched, though, by the eccentricities of Mr. Boyes' charmingly calamitous friends and by the disaster that is the Prussian home he and Lena have decided to repair. Leaky, drafty and on the edge of ruin, it has a facade only an inheritor could love . And yet, its rebuilding is the decision that launches the thousand disasters chronicled here with such wit and charm.

Mr. Boyes' amusing prose ably captures the absurdities of his adventure in rural Prussia . And so, his work must be considered a success, for this was his purpose. But there's something about To Prussia With Love that seems too fantastic to be true. This reads like the leavings of a skit from Fawlty Towers, complete with dour East Germans, fanciful plots and characters who seem too large for life. Perhaps its authenticity is irrelevant. After all, this is a work whose self-destructiveness will widely amuse, but it all just feels a bit too neat for my tastes, like the half-fevered daydream of a man all-too aware that he's once again about to be single. However, if every event in here is true, well, then we should all venture to Roger and Lena's little Prussian B&B. Hilarity cannot but ensue.

Funny but suspiciously tidy. Still, the extent to which this is a rumination on relationships and the events that knit and dissolve them makes it a success. (3/5 Stars)

Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies by June Casagrande

From The Week of August 28, 2011

For most of us, English grammar is a challenging subject. For while brave teachers have been thanklessly instructing us in its fundamentals, for decades now, English speakers have been learning their language without any knowledge of the mishmash of Dutch, French, German, Latin and Norse tongues from which it has been haphazardly assembled. As a result, most of us quickly forget the bewildering (at best) and senseless (at worst) array of rules we were taught in High School, instead, absorbing what laws we can through intuition and common usage. This is far from ideal, which makes our grammar far from ideal. And when some aspect of our character is substandard, we can count on there being puffed-up perfectionists ready to step in and correct us while being aglow with smug superiority. Thank the gods, then, for Ms. Casagrande.

From the semicolon to the subjunctive, from "I"s and "we"s to "that"s and "which"s, Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies is a playful and enlightening romp through the maddening world of English grammar. But unlike the school lessons, to which attention had to be encouraged by the threat of ruler-wrapped knuckles, Ms. Casagrande, an American author and journalist, teaches through humor, infusing an otherwise dry subject with entertaining verve.

While Ms. Casagrande's primary purpose here is to educate her readers on some core principles of English grammar, she also devotes considerable time to the castigation of grammar snobs. From Lynn Truss to the anonymous hordes who feel it their duty to correct every error, the author contends that these snobbish, self-styled, gram=mar experts are far from helpful and that they intimidate those with only passable grammar by proudly declaring their arcane knowledge. Ms. Casagrande argues that, in reality, not even grammar experts know all the rules, that some situations have no hard-and-fast rules, and that comprehension ought to be the standard by which we judge communication.

Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies is an enjoyable read. While Ms. Casagrande is overzealous in her criticism of grammar snobs -- I read Lynn Truss as far more humorous than she --, her underlying point, that snobbery only inhibits learning while fostering a dangerous elitism, is both valid and well-argued. Humanity has, at many points in its history, surrendered authority to various priesthoods, all of which claim specialized, doctrinal knowledge of important subjects. But rather than using their esoteric knowledge to educate laypeople, these self-appointed guardians of the arcane sanctified their learning, insisting that only they can properly dispense its wisdom. In doing so, they claim unto themselves power that, by rights, ought to be equally held by everyone. Grammar snobs may not have nice robes or gilded crosses, but this should fool no one into thinking that they are not the newest iteration of this sad practice. Knowledge belongs to everyone and can be accessed by anyone. And whomsoever claims otherwise is only trying to make himself feel special.

Educational, funny and with a bit of intellectual bite. (3/5 Stars)

I Know I Am But What Are You by Samantha Bee

From The Week of August 07, 2011

Writers are the lifeblood of television shows. After all, it's almost impossible to enjoy an episode of any program riddled with stilted skits, awkward dialogue and senseless plot twists. The Daily Show, then, must have some phenomenal talent empowering it. For no other program has maintained such sharp satire, such mocking wit, for such a long time. Though this latest effort from a Daily show performer is more a limited memoir than a mocking comedy, Ms. Bee displays, here, the charm and the humor that infuses The Daily Show of which she's been apart since 2003.

Born in Canada to wildly eccentric parents, Ms. Bee clearly had an unusual adolescence. Enthusiastically delving into her past, she details not only her awkward sexual encounters -- she appears to have been quite a magnet for older, pervy men --, she unapologetically embraces her early roles as depressive, car thief, and crapped-on girlfriend. About the only noteworthy absence in the life described here is normalcy with which Ms. Bee seems only passingly familiar. But then, when ones formative life is shaped by asshole boyfriends, inappropriate parents and strange, strange men, one is bound to trade in boring, old normal for exciting and exhilarating bizarre.

From horribly awkward family vacations to drug-fuelled concerts, I Know I Am But What Are You is a fun romp through Ms. Bee's entertaining adolescence, but there's very little here about her latter life and virtually nothing about her time on The Daily Show. The writer of a memoir is under no obligation to lay out the totality of her life in a single work, but the omission of her adult life from this piece is quite jarring. There are references to it, of course, brief allusions to her husband and childbirth, but these are little more than glances in the direction of events after Ms. Bee turned 20.

It's no doubt an impulse for comedians to look nostalgically back on their childhoods; after all, these are the years that shaped them into the funny, sarcastic and zany wits that so capably amuse us. And yet, our lives have arcs, trajectories, moments of change and maturity. Ms. Bee is commendably raw and open about the ungainliness of her youth and the moments of painful silence and loneliness that punctuated it, but such tales have been told many, many times before. If it's to be told again, the recipe must be spiced up with a new variation on an established theme.

Despite having her Daily Show six-shooter primed and holstered, Ms. Bee's refusal to draw and fire confines this memoir to conventionality. Amusing and, at times, playfully terrifying, but more than a little disappointing as well. (2/5 Stars)

Earth by Jon Stewart

From The Week of July 10, 2011

Jon Stewart is a wonderful satirist. His blend of humor and outrage seems, at times, to be the perfect cocktail for a world overcome with dishonest politicians, crazy celebrities and media sensationalists obsessed with the spotlight. Given that America, hit all these notes rather well, I expected a similarly potent cocktail from this latest effort, Earth. I was sorely disappointed.

Earth is an open letter to future aliens who visit Earth, only to find the planet deserted. Humanity, it seems, has exterminated itself in one of a myriad of ways, leaving the aliens to pick over the bones of our forgotten civilization. The letter tries to explain to the aliens who we were by first laying down some basic facts about humanity, before layering on details about our politics, our societies, our customs and our religions. In this, Mr. Stewart pokes fun at many of our ridiculous notions while offering a what can I say, this was who we were' apologetic shrug to the curious aliens.

Though Earth does have its humorous moments, these come far too infrequently for good satire. America worked because, even in the midst of its absurdity, it had a point to make, primarily that, for a country claiming to be great, the people of the United States, on balance, know far less than they ought to about both their politicians and their political system. In this, it taught even as it gently scolded. Earth offers no such lesson wrapped in absurdity. It is merely an all-too-familiar recitation of the litany of mistakes we've made as a race. There is no teachable moments here, no central objective. Earth is a weak attempt to laugh at how pathetic we are. Perhaps if the aliens had brought some more biting criticism to the table, there might've been some punch here. As is, Earth commits the cardinal sin of all comedy. It just isn't that funny. If there are no teachable moments and the humor is hit and miss at best, then what's left? Precious little... (2/5 Stars)

Jon Stewart is a wonderful satirist. His blend of humor and outrage seems, at times, to be the perfect cocktail for a world overcome with dishonest politicians, crazy celebrities and media sensationalists obsessed with the spotlight. Given that America, hit all these notes rather well, I expected a similarly potent cocktail from this latest effort, Earth. I was sorely disappointed.

Earth is an open letter to future aliens who visit Earth, only to find the planet deserted. Humanity, it seems, has exterminated itself in one of a myriad of ways, leaving the aliens to pick over the bones of our forgotten civilization. The letter tries to explain to the aliens who we were by first laying down some basic facts about humanity, before layering on details about our politics, our societies, our customs and our religions. In this, Mr. Stewart pokes fun at many of our ridiculous notions while offering a what can I say, this was who we were' apologetic shrug to the curious aliens.

Though Earth does have its humorous moments, these come far too infrequently for good satire. America worked because, even in the midst of its absurdity, it had a point to make, primarily that, for a country claiming to be great, the people of the United States, on balance, know far less than they ought to about both their politicians and their political system. In this, it taught even as it gently scolded. Earth offers no such lesson wrapped in absurdity. It is merely an all-too-familiar recitation of the litany of mistakes we've made as a race. There is no teachable moments here, no central objective. Earth is a weak attempt to laugh at how pathetic we are. Perhaps if the aliens had brought some more biting criticism to the table, there might've been some punch here. As is, Earth commits the cardinal sin of all comedy. It just isn't that funny. If there are no teachable moments and the humor is hit and miss at best, then what's left? Precious little... (2/5 Stars)

Getting Stoned With Savages by J. Maarten Troost

From The Week of July 03, 2011

When we were last with Mr. Troost in Sex Lives of Cannibals, he and his wife, Sylvia, were struggling to re-adjust to the saturation of Western life after spending two years in tiny and bizarre Kiribati, a country in the South Pacific leagues from civilization. Though they both found gainful employment upon their return to the West, a certain disaffection for the rat race, along with a seemingly insatiable wanderlust, soon motivated them into a search for another adventure. Which is how, not long after recovering from Kiribati, Mr. Troost is once again surfing the cultures of far away lands, this time dividing his penetrating wit between Fiji, which has recently suffered a military coupe, and the island nation of Vanuatu, later to be popularized by the television series Survivor which used it as the setting for one of its many cycles.

Getting Stoned With Savages is aptly named for it does often seem as though Mr. Troost's insights into these island cultures are gleaned through the powerful and revolting intoxicants imbibed there. And yet his willingness to try any substance, to risk every adventure, to confront every monstrous insect, imbues this, his second journey into the wilds of the undeveloped world, with a passion and a humor to rival his Kiribati experience. Despite the Kava haze which lingers over his account, Mr. Troost is able to knit his adventures here into a coherent if fragmented narrative which educates the reader on Vanuatu's French colonial history, on the eccentricities of its people and practices, and on the vast inequities between its rulers and its citizens which seem to characterize most island cultures. All this while Sylvia bravely gives birth to their first child who spends his initial year on Earth in the sun, sea and sweat of the Pacific islands.

Without his telltale wit, Mr. Troost's work would be nothing more than interesting if unspectacular logs of his various travels. But it is his packaging of his distinct brand of humor with a savage dislike for both colonialism and political corruption which allow hiss journeys to leap off the page. Though Sex Lives of Cannibals had a novelty that Getting Stoned With Savages lacks, Mr. Troost is, in every other respect, at the peak of his powers.

Conceptually, the only flaw here is the extent to which he has to cover up for the fact that this tale is devoid of a central event around which the rest of the story pivots. His attempt to talk to a living cannibal offers up some momentary hope in this regard, but this effort soon fails, lapsing the reader back into a series of barely connected adventures which have but one thing in common, that they all occur to Mr. Troost. This ought to be disappointing, but I would rather authenticity than dishonesty designed to sensationalize a flagging tale. And besides, the human experience is, here, a quality substitute for drama as, with admirable courage, the author exhibits himself and the cultures he explores, leaving little hidden away. Entertaining work. (3/5 Stars)

In 50 Years We'll All Be Chicks by Adam Carolla

From The Week of May 29, 2011

Mr. Carolla's boastful and hilarious memoir is a testosterone-saturated romp through the life of a self-made man. The co-creator of The Man Show and the host of one of the world's most downloaded podcasts, he is a wildly successful comedian, but it wasn't always thus. As he details in In 50 Years We'll All Be Chicks, Mr. Carolla grew up poor in 1970s and 1980s Los Angeles, its fame and fortune as unattainable to a career construction worker as the moon. But after taking a series of acting classes, and religiously attending open mic nights, he built a brand of comedy that's carried him to stardom.

But as much as this is a memoir of Mr. Carolla's funny and painful exploits, it's equally a cultural polemic. He decries the "pussification" of American society, digressing into memorable rants against everything from the proliferation of peanut allergies to the pettiness of security guards. But though his literary fire can sometimes seem indiscriminate, his anger has a single source, the softening of masculinity. Considering that, in America, tree women now graduate college for every two men, and in light of the fact that many of the labor-intencive jobs men have traditionally fallen back on for good careers are being mechanized, it seems like he's tapped into a serious, cultural shift.

Mr. Carolla's effort here won't win any awards; it is far too provocative for such niceties. But for guys looking for a laugh at the expense of, well, everyone else, it completely delivers. Conversely, if you're a woman who does not find value, or humor, in aggressive jock talk, this is one to skip. A successful, easy, entertaining read. (3/5 Stars)

The Dark Tourist by Dom Joly

From The Week of April 17, 2011

What drives people to embrace and explore the fringes of our world? Is it a need to be different, or do some people simply find a fascination for an unusual life and all the experiences it affords them? Mr. Joly, a British comedian, sheds some light on this question with The Dark Tourist, an exploration of some of the world's grimmest and most tragic sites.

From the ski slopes of Iran to the radioactive rubble of Chernobyl, Mr. Joly takes the reader on a journey through human folly. For him, there's no difference between government sanctioned bus tours of North Korea and lunatic-lead inspections of JFK's place of death; it's the odyssey that matters. It's the opportunity to speak to the believers and the skeptics, to the propagandists and the conspiracists, all in an effort to further, through wonderfully droll humor, an understanding of the darker side of life. Along the way, Mr. Joly encounters some remarkable misfits, but even these flamboyant characters struggle to outshine the quiet suffering of the North Koreans he brushes up against, or the befuddled bureaucrats who try, and fail, to make sense of a passport stamped by countries as diverse as Iran, Israel, North Korea and Lebanon. Add in Iraq and Mr. Joly would have hit all three countries of George W. Bush's Axis of Evil.

Sure, there's indulgence here. Only a wealthy and shameless Westerner would conceive of deliberately exposing himself to the kind of human nightmares from which the victims can only think to flee. But while his ghoulishness is inescapable, Mr. Joly conveys, here, a depth of feeling that reveals him to be more than just some dark tourist. He is, in a sense, making a catalogue of human stupidity, both ideological and practical. And in doing so, he's reminding his readers that there are places in the world which have, to all outward appearances, gone quite entirely mad.

Beyond the content, which is first class in both its humor and its sight-seeing, Mr. Joly has told his tale with the right balance of fatalism and impishness. There are omissions; he's clearly glossed over some of his less interesting trips, preferring to feature those that moved him, or that provided moments of ridiculousness and drama. But this flaw does not mar the whole, a powerful and puerile examination of the events which have left gaping craters in the bedrock of our civilization. It's strange to say of a book which is, in some sense, a celebration of death, but The Dark Tourist has a vitality that I won't soon forget. (4/5 Stars)

Bossypants by Tina Fey

From The Week of April 17, 2011

Ms. Fey may not have any novel contributions to make to the memoir genre. Nonetheless, her playful, mocking wit and her self-deprecating mien combine to imbue this account of her life with an affectionate, enduring charm.

A native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Ms. Fey has devoted her life to comedy. After all, nothing less than love for ones art could cause someone to push through the doubts, the setbacks and the crappy odds of success to realize their dream. From her formative experiences at summer theatre camp and the Second City comedy troop, to her arrival on the public stage with Saturday Night Live and the creation of her own television show, she recounts, here, the milestones of her challenging journey to the top of her profession, all while lighting up her tale with a constellation of boisterous friends, commanding parents and hilarious colleagues. It would have been easy for Ms. Fey to gloss over her life pre-fame, minimizing it in favor of celebrity exploits that sell books and draw in new fans. But, winningly, Bossypants lavishes as much attention on the foibles and the humiliations characteristic of her early life as it does to the triumphant stardom of her current, successful chapter. This, more than anything else, demonstrates the core decency of one of the most widely known people in contemporary comedy.

It's not hard for memoirs to slide into insufferable navel-gazing. After all, they are often several-hundred-page paeans written about the author by the author. Yet I could not find a single self-reverential page in this breezy, funny and telling autobiography. Ms. Fey has a lot to say, about her profession, the state of American life, the difficulties of rising to the top and the exhausting challenge to remain there. She imparts this wisdom with the kind of grace and good humor that make her, I imagine, an irresistible personality. (3/5 Stars)

Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman

From The Week of December 12, 2010

Superficially, Practical Magic is a fun read about coming-of-age witches and the burdens of living with powers they barely understand and do not want to accept, but there's a depth here, a philosophical gravitas, that gives Ms. Hoffman's book unexpected punch. This is, at root, a tale about the choices we make: to reject what we know to be true, to hurt the ones we love, to flee from situations we do not have the courage to face, and to take for granted the loyalty and kindness of good people.

Sally and Gillian are sisters who, after a disastrous fire that claims the lives of their parents, are raised by their two eccentric aunts whose witchy powers, though never overt, are present throughout the novel. Though the freedom they are provided by their hands-off aunts seems ideal for rule-allergic teenagers, the sisters are socially tarred by a community that wants nothing to do with the Owens family or its creepy house. The sisters characteristically react in opposite ways to this rejection. Gillian rebels and Sally sinks inside herself, but both eventually flee the Owens home. Gillian jets to parts unknown, leaving in her wake a string of shattered marriages and broken promises as she tries to outrun her feelings. Sally, meanwhile, settles in New England, not far from the aunts, and raises the next Owens duo, her own two daughters who are just as dissimilar from one another as Sally is from Gillian. Persevering in the face of heartache, Sally endures until, one day, Gillian shows up on her doorstep with trouble in the trunk of her car and a detective hot on her heels, forcing Sally to decide if sisterly love should trump doing the right thing.

There's so much here. Ms. Hoffman engages us in a discussion that ranges from loyalty versus truth to a debate on the good life, pausing at points along the way to ruminate on the sibling dyad and the ways in which it forces us into a kind of polarization of personality. The denial of truth to oneself even pops up now and again to haunt the multiple generations of the cursed Owens girls. This is a busy piece of engaging fiction that, somehow, manages to be totally glossed in easy and affable charm. To the extent that it's possible to write a book that is both light-hearted and deep, Ms. Hoffman has nailed the thing with admirable potency. (3/5 Stars)

Our Dumb World by The Onion

From The Week of October 31, 2010

As a loyal reader of The Onion, the hilarious website of political and cultural satire, Our Dumb World was, for me, a must-have. Modelled on an atlas, this collection of scathing primers for our world's most noteworthy nations hacks its way through its readers' delicate sensibilities, leaving no sore spot unprobed in its quest to bring to light the sum total of the world's faults and hypocrisies. There are almost no weak spots here, with highlights including the entries for America and the Democratic Republic of The Congo, the latter of which had me on the floor for a good 30 seconds.

We all, at times, take ourselves far too seriously. I, for one, am grateful to have The Onion around to bring me back to the festering cesspool that is the world we've made. This is a wonderful read for one not easily offended. Consequently, for those of you who find yourselves touchy on the question of national identity, steer clear, or else risk combustion. (3/5 Stars)

Suck It, Wonder Woman by Olivia Munn

From The Week of September 12, 2010

Though dominated by the fluff expected of any memoir penned by a comedian, Ms. Munn's story of struggle and success in Hollywood has an unanticipated but welcome gravitas. Sure, we read these books for the funnies, for a charming glimpse into the lives of oddballs who rise to the surface of cultural consciousness, but when Ms. Munn opens up about her dislocated youth divided between japan and Oklahoma, and when she details her teenaged struggles with her family, it becomes clear that the reader is being given access to an author who has approached her project with thoughtful and earnest sincerity. This openness creates an emotional connection with Ms. Munn which allows the reader to react with amazement and horror at the cast of freakish characters she encounters upon her move to Hollywood. The host of sycophantic agents and eccentric stars appall as much as they amuse, their foibles paraded before us as though Ms. Munn was a tour guide to an especially bizarre carnival.

I tend not to read the memoirs of movie stars. As if it's not enough to have lived exceptional lives, spreading themselves across popular culture, they must offload their well-coiffed and perfectly charming narcissism onto us in book form as well? It's not enough that we go see their movies, that we venerate them in the media. They also need the affirmation that comes with convincing us they aren't that different from us after all? Like I said, repugnance. Ms. Munn may be successful, she may be beautiful, but what she isn't is blessed. She worked for what she's earned. And even though she now has and can enjoy her success, we see how her success is a byproduct of her damage. This is real. This is authentic. Suck It Wonder Woman is tight, funny and well done, but its relatability, its humanity, is what makes it a success. (3/5 Stars)

America: A Citizen's Guide To Democracy by Jon Stewart

From The Week of September 12, 2010
From The Week of September 05, 2010

I've never watched a full episode of The Daily Show, but if that program is as funny as the book penned by its host, then I have a new show to watch. This unfailingly sarcastic, alternate history of America, while wildly and intentionally inaccurate, hits upon a core truth of politics in America, that it is brutish, ugly, and, well, dumb.

With hilarious interjections from political figures like Thomas Jefferson and John Kerry, America is essentially a mock study guide to that nation's government. In acerbic detail, it lays out the basics of the Constitution, the branches of government, the positions of power and the ways that power is abused. No shortcoming of the American system is overlooked; after all, there's plenty of happy scorn to be flung about. All this is contained in some 200 pages of tight, hilarious history that will in no way prepare anyone for an election in America, but it certainly will prepare one for the ceaselessly inane thunderings of politicians and the pundits who judge them

There are times when we lose sight of just how ridiculous life has become in an age of 24/7 media. Mr. Stewart's effort may trivialize important issues, but if it gets just one person to crack open a real history of America, or if it gets just one person to stop caring about the pontifications of pandering politicians, then it has done good. (3/5 Stars)

Thank You For Smoking by Christopher Buckley

From The Week of September 05, 2010

Occupying the heart of all good satire is a pervasive sadness that beats, barely audibly, beneath the happy noise of the surface comedy. The sadness is what lends enough gravitas to the funny to make it meaningful and potent. By this definition, Thank You For Smoking is bloody good satire.

Nick Naylor, a lobbyist for big tobacco, is living a guiltless life. He has no particular qualms with pedaling cigarettes; everyone has the right to buy and consume what they wish. That is, after all, the American Way. But while guilt may not keep Nick up at night, his job security is. His boss is tightening the screws on him, setting for Nick performance targets he can't possibly hit. The boss' hope is that Nick will fail and the boss will have a reason to replace him with a more attractive subordinate. Naylor does not just succeed at the task set before him, he succeeds to such a degree that he draws the admiring and protective attentions of the Captain, Naylor's boss's boss, a chronically ill tobacco titan who approves of Nick's initiative. This is the catalyst for the main thrust of the novel, as Nick, with the Captain's backing, proceeds to ascend in power and esteem within the company by executing a series of stunts and interviews that show the world as much courage as they do heartlessness. But when Nick is kidnapped and nearly killed by having his body covered in Nicotine patches, the good life seems to have come to an end and Nick is forced to reconsider his friends and his livelihood within the company as a battle for control over his division plays out around him.

Mr. Buckley's novel is unfalteringly clever. In connecting Nick's ascendancy to the ever-increasing outrageousness of his lies and evasions to the media about smoking and its harmful effects, he illustrates a fundamental truth of human nature, that the big lie is the best lie. Everyone believes the big lie because it's easier to believe in the big lie than it is to believe in the inconvenient truth. The big lie can make people look strong and confident and in control when the reality is markedly different. The only problem with the big lie is the fall which is inevitable and made, by dint of the accumulation of deceits, all the more harsh. What's more, we celebrate liars. By not examining their actions with the light of truth, by choosing to believe in what they are selling us, we reward their lying which only makes them continue in the fiction. This is the sadness of big tobacco's big lie. It worked for them! They knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. They played the big lie. And when it went wrong for them, when the heyday ended, they capitulated, but not before 30 years of knowingly profiting on the sickening of their consumers. Mr. Buckley shows us a dark and funny glimpse into the culture of death, into the soullessness of selling. It's a credit to his skill that we laugh and do not cry. (3/5 Stars)

The Worst Jobs In History by Tony Robinson

From The Week of August 29, 2010

The history we read in books, the history we watch on television, the history handed down to us through legend, necessarily focuses on the big events and the giants who shaped them. But even history has an underbelly and Mr. Robinson has taken it upon himself to shine a light on the forgotten souls who collectively, day in and day out, did as much to define our lives and our history as the heroes and villains we love and loath.

After a day spent fighting, just how did a knight get his armor clean? Could the poorest of the poor really find wealth in human sewage? Just how foul is the job of a tanner anyway? With equal parts amazement and disgust, Mr. Robinson takes us through a history of British employment, from the time of Christ through to recent memory. While describing some jobs you could not pay modern man $100,000 a year to perform, he illuminates just how brutal and painful life was for the 99 percent of those who did not live lives of privilege. As foul as these occupations are, and there are many I now wish I could forget, they shine an overdue light on the desperation of the masses who performed them, people who had no option but to pinch their noses shut and do what needed doing, all in hopes of a few precious coins with which to buy life's basic necessities.

There's a wonderful, dark, British humor about Mr. Robinson's chronicle which kept me laughing even as I wished at times to die, but there's an underlying sadness here which I imagine was not intentional. Merely attempting to conceive of how hard life must have been for so many... Only to realize that we've done virtually nothing to remember them, to honor them... When I imagine the torrent of words each year that are squandered on the uplifting of men like Churchill and the decrying of men like Hitler, and when I compare this incalculable number with the dearth of words devoted to the drudges who made their wars possible, their lives possible, it leaves me wondering just how distorted our priorities are. In any event, this is excellent and hilarious work, but please do make sure you have a sickbag handy. You may need it. (4/5 Stars)

The Bedwetter by Sarah Silverman

From The Week of May 30, 2010

I admit it! I confess! The title got me. Only peripherally aware of Ms. Silverman's career as a comedienne, I scooped up The Bedwetter and was not disappointed. Her humor is as raunchy as it is blue, so fair warning to those inviting themselves cold into her smutty world of whacky relatives, drug-fuelled late nights, and the crazy screwups endemic to comedy.

Inevitably, there's plenty of massaging in comedy memoirs, time to punch up ones material, trim some unnecessary fat from a story, or add a few embellishments to tighten it up. And yet, while Ms. Silverman brings her talent to bear on her readers, the essence of the real woman peeks through. Humorists the world over seem to have one thing in common, an insane childhood and Ms. Silverman was no exception. Her depiction of her nutty father absolutely steals the show, making it clear that at least some of her talent was arrived at naturally. Ms. Silverman traces her life in humor, from expletive-laden rants as a child, to mainstream success, accomplishing this without descending into narcissistic self-indulgence which is harder than it might seem. We're left with the impression of a woman fully living an unconventional life, a woman who has fun playing with the skeletons in her closet. Charm is surely a key aspect to comedy and it's clear that, in her own singular way, Ms. Silverman has it in spades.

Short, enjoyable funny and dirty. Don't we all like it that way? (3/5 Stars)