Staff Pick

Where'd You Go, Bernadette

By Maria Semple

It's no wonder Amy Sherman-Palladino gave this book a nod when "Bunheads" central character pulls it out while waiting in line at an audition. Semple and Sherman-Palladino must be long-lost twins, two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth. They have the same fast-paced, painfully witty, whirlwind women in their work (Lorelai Gilmore? Michelle Simms? Meet Bernadette Fox.) It's exhausting! But, at the same token (and part of me hates to admit this), it's addictive. I have a love/hate relationship with these women (Sherman-Palladino, Semple, and their characters). I love "The Gilmore Girls" (Incidentally, Bee is basically another Rori Gilmore, and one of the only truly likable characters - for the most part - in the book). I kind of hate myself for liking "Bunheads." And I like hating Where'd You Go Bernadette. Its characters are annoying and petty and rich and selfish and make me angry, and yet I kept reading.

I can't remember the last time I read a book in two days, and I second Jonathan Franzen's blurb on the cover: "I tore through this book with heedless pleasure." Having said that, I suppose it's unfair for me to say I hate this book. But I'm not sure I liked it. I enjoyed it, but I enjoyed it the way I enjoy TV shows I like; I just absorbed it. It's fun. This is a beach read in the best sense: fast-paced, easy to digest, and just fun. (When's the last time I can say I read a fun book?)

Initially I disliked the pseudo- epistolary form (emails, notes, transcripts), but I grew to enjoy it. It keeps the plot moving and adds to the sense of mystery of the book; they're puzzle pieces to understanding Bernadette. And it's Bee's love for her mother and her drive to uncover who Bernadette is, what happened to her, and where she went that holds the novel together and keeps the reader reading. Without her, and her compassionate and passionate detective work, this novel wouldn't work. The novel itself is quirky, full of gossipy, unlikable "gnats," and some ridiculous situations (Also, now I really want to go to Antarctica).

All in all, I say read this book (not like you need my endorsement since by now I think nearly everyone's read it or been told to read it). It's not going to change your life. You won't have any serious epiphanies or re-examine your choices. You may, like me, hate yourself for liking this book, or like hating this book. But, either way, you'll have a lot of fun with it.

The Flame Alphabet

by Ben Marcus

I was really blown away by this book; it's like nothing else I've read. It's like a Twilight Zone episode come to life in full color.

Marcus's writing style is quick, sharp, and unforgiving. It's exceptional and addictive. There is a certain element of coldness to the narration, but it's easy to understand why, before long. 

In the world of this novel, language is toxic. Just the sound of a loved one's name can send you into convulsions. Even words in print are poison. The central character, Sam, and his wife Claire are slowly breaking down, and the source of the toxicity lives under their very own roof. Children, immune to the language toxicity, spew the poison readily.

The premise of this novel is so unique and so compelling. I will say, I did get bogged down after 50 pages or so with his pseudo-technical description and the religion aspect. At times, the environment and the contraptions were difficult for me to visualize (it reminded me a little if Michael Crichton), but that's no fault of the prose.

I highly recommend reading The Flame Alphabet. It is original and brutal and unforgettable. I really admire this book and its author.

This Side of Brightness

by Colum McCann

Lexapros and Cons

By Aaron Karo

My young adult staff pick:

Tender at the Bone

by Ruth Reichl

In her memoir Spoon Fed, Kim Severson describes Ruth Reichl as the intimidating popular girl of the food writing world. And I can't claim to really love food writing without having read any Ruth Reichl. So I thought I'd start at the beginning, with Reichl's first book, Tender at the Bone. It hasn't created the same stir as Sapphires and Garlic, but it is a wonderfully detailed account of the coming-of-age of this iconic food writer.

As Reichl explains in the introduction to the book, she is first and foremost a storyteller. And she has great stories to tell, starting with her mother, "the queen of mold." Reading about Reichl mother, I wonder how she made it out of her house alive, let a lone without a debilitating case of food poisoning. I suppose it's really no surprise, then, that Reichl went on to master the kitchen. She gives due credit to the important food mentors in her life, including her Grandmother and her Grandmother's cook, in addition to Marion Cunningham.

The book does, however, lose steam in its final two chapters. Reichl's writing is consciously composed, without feeling overworked. But the last two chapters are not as fully-fleshed out as the rest of the book. They seem out of place and almost an afterthought. I don't think the book necessarily needed the feel-good wrap-up. That could have been left off for the next book.

Reichl has lived a life that is hard for me to imagine (my mother is fairly even-keeled and I don't have a communal-living temperament), but her writing makes me want to live it. My favorite chapter has to be "Eyesight for the Blind" about her and her husband's shoestring European honeymoon. It seems that wherever Reichl finds herself (New York City, Greece, Italy, Canada, California, etc), she finds a family in food. Reichl's life hasn't been without struggle or disappointment, but it's food that seems to hold her together in the toughest of times.

This isn't a a real post

But it's something that made me laugh, and it's too long for twitter.

Yesterday at the book store, a father came in with his two small boys (I can't gauge children's ages. They were stroller-sized.) After they spent some time looking for books, I heard the father to say to the older boy, Ok, now bring that one up to the nice lady so we can pay for it. And like some tiny, quiet Jerry Lewis, this little boy walked around the store, up to the front desk, book in hand, saying, Nice LAdy? Nice LAdy. . . Nice LAdy. . .