Book Log 2006 (With Mini-Reviews!)

Submitted by CaptMal on Mon, 01/09/2006 - 04:35
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  1. 1/1: Eldest (2005, Christopher Paolini) - The second in Paolini's planned Inheritance trilogy, Eldest comes off as nothing more than a cheap imitation of the kinds of books he's loved to read all his life. The first in the series, Eragon, was a very average but mostly harmless fantasy adventure; Eldest, almost twice as long and with a more complex narrative, maginifies all of the original's faults a thousandfold. Paolini's prose is awkward and strangely distant. Instead of immersing the reader in a massive fantasy world, Paolini puts up a wall between himself and his audience. There are some interesting bits sprinkled here and there, but Eldest is your usual, run-of-the-mill kid lit. Paolini would be the best fan fiction writer of all time. C-

  2. 1/6: In Cold Blood (1965, Truman Capote) - Never has a title been more perfectly matched with its material. The "cold" in the title perfectly sets the mood for the rest of Capote's classic non-fiction novel: He writes with a cold and flat objectivity that sends chills up the spine while still forming emotional ties. Everything he writes is viewed from the eye of an outsider, aloof but observant; his descriptions are some of the most vivid I have ever read. The beginning builds slowly to the slaying of four innocent townsfolk in rural Holcomb, Kansas, and in fact, we never hear the details of the murders until about three-fourths of the way through. Capote is a genius at building tension and then sustaining it for the entire course of the novel. In Cold Blood is shocking, startling, chilling, terrifying, disturbing, sad, and poignant. One of the best books ever written. A+

  3. 1/14: Memoirs of a Geisha (1997, Arthur Golden) - I love Japanese culture, and in Memoirs of a Geisha, Arthur Golden delves into it with insight and finesse. He opens the book with a foreword by a fictional historian who goes on to translate the memoirs of a fictional geisha...it is a stunning feat that Golden manages to write with the kind of knowing that a real geisha would have, as well as to breathe life into someone so utterly different from himself. It's a beautiful book, filled with loving descriptions, insights into the private world of a geisha, and even snappy bits of humor. It makes me want to see the movie even less. A+

  4. 1/19: Jarhead: A Marine's Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles (2003, Anthony Swofford) - Swofford's brutal memoir detailing his experiences before, during, and after the Gulf War is one of the best books about military life in recent memory. It is as bitter and as cynical as one would expect--and surprisingly moving--but Swofford infuses his emotions with his powerful prose, the result being like poetry on war and the essence of being written in the style of a novel. At times he jumps around too much for his own good, but this is another way that the reader gets a peek into his brain...and what a fascinating, disturbing, brilliant, frightening, and all-too-faimilar terrain it is. A-

  5. 1/22: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe(1950, C.S. Lewis) - The first book in Lewis' beloved Chronicles of Narnia series, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is a fun little adventure but not a masterwork of fantasy fiction. It has the same kind of light, breezy humor as typified by J.R.R. Tolkien in The Hobbit, but never reaches the epic scope of that novel, and Lewis' scarce descriptions don't help to make into a more realized adventure. Still, it's a quick read, with Lewis acting as a benign, almost grandfatherly narrator. While it may not be the classic that everyone else sees it as, it is an entertaining beginning to the series. B

  6. 1/24: Prince Caspian (1951, C.S. Lewis) - More full-blooded and with better pacing than The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian is a very entertaining continuation of the Narnia saga. Lewis still acts the grandfatherly narrator, but this time has enough detail and enough plot to make it really work and to keep the reader's hands turning pages at a furious rate. The poignant, bittersweet beginning of the novel is its best section, and while the climax feels a bit rushed, it's not detrimental to the overall enjoyment had while reading it. Still not quite a classic, but a marked improvement over the first book. B+

  7. 1/29: Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Power of Persuasion (1999, Elizabeth Massie) - The scariest thing about this book is the "About the Author" segment at the back where we learn that Massie is a two-time Bram Stoker Award winner. And yet she couldn't scratch out a semi-decent juvenile novel from the Buffyverse? It feels as if she's hardly ever seen the series, and if she has, only in bits and pieces; all of the characters feel...wrong, the plot has too few surprises, and the villains too feeble to successfully prey upon the Scoobies as they do here. Buffy, Xander, Willow, Oz, Giles, and even Cordelia are much more intelligent beings than they are in Massie's amateurish, low-rent piece of fan-fic, and since it's set in the third season, their relationships should be far more progressed than they are. Her prose starts out strong, but by the book's end, it has died a slow death. There are a few nice bits peppered here and there, but to me, it's just a tiny scrap of meat left on the skeleton of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a skeleton whose flesh I am still ravenous to devour. D-

  8. 2/2: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1952, C.S. Lewis) - The third book in the continuing Chronicles of Narnia series is the one so far that is most subtle with its biblical parallels, and is more successful because of it. Lewis here also takes a departure from the previous two books' land battles and war strategems for the high seas, the characters sailing along in the title ship, the Dawn Treader. This allows for plenty of exciting stops and detours, Lewis' prose at its richest yet in the series, with beautiful descriptions of never-ending tunnels of darkness and expansive underwater cities. Each installment of this series is better than the last, and judging from the excellence of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by time I reach the seventh and final book I'll have in my hands one of the greatest fantasy works ever written. A-

  9. 2/13: The Silver Chair (1953, C.S. Lewis) - Well, it seems that my end comments on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader were somewhat premature. While by no means a bad (or even average) book, The Silver Chair is the lesser of the four Chronicles of Narnia novels that I've yet read. Lewis' delightful, breezy humor is still there, but the characters are less interesting. Perhaps this is because this is the first book to feature none of the main characters from the first in the series, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (except, of course, for Aslan the Lion). The ending seems a bit trite and predictable, the biblical parallels are a little too obvious, and the astounding magic of the previous book seems to have died down somewhat. Still an enjoyable, entertaining read, but a slight disappointment overall. B

  10. 4/3: The Horse and His Boy (1954, C.S. Lewis) - My end comments on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader continue to disprove themselves. Notice the gap between my finishing The Silver Chair and this one; that's how unenthused I was by it. The Horse and His Boy, the fifth in Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia series, is also the least successful and most uninteresting yet, and the only one so far that is completely, solidly average. It's a chore to work through, as Lewis' dry, benign humor is beginning to grow tiresome, and none of the characters (even the few from earlier in the series that manage to sneak in near the end) are really that exciting. The biblical parallels here are...well...sort of superfluous. They don't really mean anything. Just a very tepid, very boring, very average tale. That's all very disappointing, though not entirely surprising. C+

  11. 4/10: The Magician's Nephew (1955, C.S. Lewis) - Ah, how happy my heart has become. After the relative disappointment of The Silver Chair and The Horse and His Boy, Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia series has finally reclaimed its throne as one of the most enjoyable fantasies out there. In fact, my end comments on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader have finally proven themselves; The Magician's Nephew is the best of the series thus far, and a near-masterpiece. Lewis' prose is back to the descriptive, rich, and elegant prose of Dawn Treader, and unlike most of the series, The Magician's Nephew has a full and satisfying ending that booms with real magic. Being a prequel, this manages to tie together many elements of the other books in a very tidy fashion, especially concerning some of the important yet minor characters that have hovered in the background in the other six installments. All-in-all, a majestic read and terrific fun. After this, there's nowhere for Lewis to go but up! ...Knock on wood. A

  12. 4/13: The Last Battle (1956, C.S. Lewis) - The Chronicles of Narnia series comes to a close with The Last Battle, a beautiful, breathaking, and awe-inspiring work of fantasy that had tears welling in the corner of my eyes and my fingers turning the pages as fast as they could. It starts out a fairly standard Narnia entry, but slowly blossoms into its best installment and quite possibly one of the greatest books I've ever read. The biblical parallels are intricately strewn together, and it ties everything from the entire series together very satisfyingly. The end is incredibly powerful and defines Lewis' marvelous work on the series. I hate to see this series end, but if it's gotta go out, this is the phenomenal bang to do it with. A+

  13. 4/15: Dude, Where's My Country? (2003, Michael Moore) - While the chapter on what "Mike's Militia" could do to ensure that Bush would leave office in 2004 is now pretty useless, it still makes for interesting reading, as does the entire book. As always, Moore interjects his pointed, cynical humor to enforce the notion that we are being played in the palm of Mr. Bush's hand, and it's time to bite it and break free. A lot of it is truly eye-opening, and Moore definitely has the decency to admit when he's wrong and on what matters he should improve. It's a very funny, very insightful, very shocking book; reading it, you feel like he's preparing to mount a large-scale attack on Bush's White House. And, indeed, at the back of the book where it's mentioned that he's gearing up to do his next film, Fahrenheit 9/11, I got goosebumps. Fahrenheit 9/11 is still the single greatest political statement of the century--or the last century--and reading Dude, Where's My Country? has reminded me that it's still important and will still be important many years from now. Bring on Fahrenheit 9/11 1/2...we're ready. A+

  14. 4/18: Everything's Eventual (2002, Stephen King) - Books have scared me before. Stephen King books in particular, like Dreamcatcher or The Shining. But no book or story has ever completely frightened me more than the short story "1408," one of 14 such stories in the brilliant King compilation Everything's Eventual. Not all of the stories are frightening or even mildly scary...King can write the gamut from terrifying to poignant, and does so very well here. The book opens with the total screamer "Autopsy Room Four" and fittingly closes with the small, quiet, and satisfying "Luckey Quarter." "L.T.'s Theory of Pets" will leave you close to tears after making you laugh like a hyena, and "That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is In French" will have you intrigued, then perplexed, and finally chilled to the bone. This is a collection that will have you turning the pages at a furious rate; absolutely marvelous stuff. A+

  15. 4/30: All the President's Men (1974, Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward) - While it takes around 50 or so pages to really get into Bernstein and Woodward's dry, sometimes jarring investigative writing written in a third-person manner (novelists they certainly were not), once you do, All the President's Men becomes a fascinating and riveting behind-the-scenes look at the making of great journalism and the very public fall of President Richard M. Nixon. While the book never really flows as easily as it should, and sometimes Bernstein and Woodward as "characters" seem melded into the same person, the great true story and wealth of information here make up for it completely. I wish Bernstein and Woodward could shoot down our current president. A

  16. 5/2: The Catcher in the Rye (1951, J.D. Salinger) - Though imitated and shamefully ripped off by dozens (perhaps hundreds) of works throughout all kinds of media about angsty and disillusioned youths, Salinger's original classic The Catcher in the Rye remains a fresh and brilliant piece of honest fiction. The book's infamous protagonist, Holden Caulfield, will ring true with anyone who is or ever was a teenager, or just someone caught at the moment in time when their dreams were broken and their ideas of society were smashed into dust. One of the (senselessly) most-banned books in American history, The Catcher in the Rye gained even more notoriety when John Lennon murderer Mark David Chapman and attempted Reagan assassin John Hinckley, Jr., confessed to being obsessed with the book and that their acts were partly inspired by Holden's worldview in the book. Thus, sometimes it's easy to lose focus of what the book is really about: A sad person living in a sad world, finally realizing that there is nothing he can do to make it any better; he can only grow up. A+

  17. 5/15: A Voice in the Wind (1993, Francine Rivers) - Much like Christian pop/rock, I find Christian fiction to be rather bland and uninteresting most of the time, and, as well, all too sanitized. I was proven wrong with the entertaining Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins, and now I'm proven wrong to a greater degree with the first book in Rivers' Mark of the Lion series, A Voice in the Wind. Make no bones about it: Were A Voice in the Wind to be adapted into a film, it would be granted with a hard R by the MPAA. It primarily focuses on the decadence of ancient Rome, with Rivers drawing stark (and sharply accurate) parallels with modern society, as well as how faith elevates and fulfills the life of a lowly slave girl named Hadassah. But trust me, there is much more to it than that; one of the most fascinating elements of the book is the grand saga of the Valerian family, and the effect Hadassah has on them (and, just as a note: Nowhere near as formulaic as it sounds). The book starts off brilliantly, but then sort of lulls for a good while before again taking off, but after that, it remains in high gear. There are some slight dialogue quibbles--though the characters are really too interesting for that to matter overmuch--and Rivers' prose at times is a touch too skittish, sudden jumps to different characters' points of view at times jarring, but all-in-all, A Voice in the Wind is a superb epic about life, death, and faith in ancient Rome. And though those aforementioned inconsistencies can still sometimes gnaw at oneself, by time you reach the end, marked by one piercing, heartbreaking, and agonizing scream of dialogue, you know that the 400-some previous pages have not been in vain. B+

  18. 5/16: Bad Twin (2006, Gary Troup) - Earlier on in this season on Lost, Hurley found a finished manuscript amongst the remnants of the plane, and this neat meta tie-in with the series is that same manuscript, published by Hyperion Books with a "mix of triumph and sadness," as fictional author Troup has been missing since the mysterious disappearance of Oceanic Flight 815. As a piece of Lost canon, the book is an interesting experiment and there is a lot of familiar name-dropping (Hanso, Widmore, Mittelwerk, Cindy, Shannon), as well as some interesting parallels, but I've yet to reach any solid conclusions. As a book, Bad Twin is pretty much the kind of thing you'd expect from a detective fiction writer named "Gary Troup": Basically an interesting, pretty amusing potboiler. There is some nice imagery and characterization, and the writing flows smoothly and almost conversationally, but in the end, it doesn't amount to much. An interesting book, but only worth a purchase for the hardcore Lost fan, such as yours truly. B

  19. 5/31: An Echo in the Darkness (1994, Francine Rivers) - I can't really decide if An Echo in the Darkness, the middle entry in Rivers' Mark of the Lion trilogy, is any better or worse than the first, A Voice in the Wind. They're pretty much equally as good, which means to say that An Echo in the Darkness is another rich and compelling, if at times jumpy in prose, story of ancient Rome (but this time mostly Ephesus). This one is less epic than the first, being far smaller and more intimate...it's not really tough to see where the book is going, but when it gets to the big moments, it still can be very powerful. There is at least one moment in the book--near the end--that left my spine tingling and tears welling in my eyes. Regardless of prose or dialogue, if a book can move me to that point, I'd hazard a guess that it's pretty good. B+

  20. 6/20: As Sure As the Dawn (1995, Francine Rivers) - The concluding chapter in Rivers' Mark of the Lion trilogy, As Sure As the Dawn completely abandons the saga of Hadassah and the Valerian family (though they are mentioned in name) and instead focuses on a very intriguing character from the first novel, A Voice in the Wind, Atretes, the German warrior captured by Roman forces and forced to fight in the arena as a gladiator for a full decade before regaining his freedom. This certainly isn't a bad thing, and the majority of the book works just as well as the first two, but then in the last quarter, As Sure As the Dawn crosses the thin line between religious inspiration and preachiness that the series had so far been treading fairly well. When the characters arrive in Atretes' homeland of Germania, the natives there are treated too much as simple barbarians. While it is true that most of them are eventually given complexities, the addition of a completely one-dimensional villain almost stops the book in its tracks. The novel deals a lot with issues of loyalty, righteous faith, and misled faith...but it gets a little misled in its own right. B-

  21. 7/19: A Woman of Substance (1979, Barbara Taylor Bradford) - The first novel by popular chick lit author Bradford is a long, textured, and satisfying, if a touch soapy, tale. It's satisfying in that, unlike most books, we read of almost every single year that our protagonist Emma Harte exists. There are no plotlines left hanging; everything is resolved, and the book's end comes as close to permanent closure as I've ever been witness to. Emma is a strong, willful woman who builds a monstrous financial empire with her bare hands, beginning with small stores which lead to department stores which in turn lead to even more gargantuan undertakings. It's great to read about a believable woman who can do these things, even if Bradford has the tendency to go a little Lifetime on her readers for stretches. Most of the segments focusing on the characters' intertwining romantic relationships, not to mention the numerous sex scenes, are way too familiar and even kind of rote. We know what to expect, and Bradford doesn't deviate from the tried-and-true formula. But, still, it's nice to know that characters we come to genuinely care for can lean on conventions and be safe for a little while before the next heart-wrenching tragedy. B

  22. 7/26: Why Buffy Matters: The Art of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (2005, Rhonda Wilcox) - Wilcox, one of the editors of the brilliant Slayage: The Online International Journal of Buffy Studies (which, I will admit, I need to read more of), clearly loves Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and for anyone who does (myself, hardcore fan extraordinaire, included)--as well as for some who may not--this will come as an insightful, rewarding look at television's greatest, most textured endeavor. Trust me, I've been faced with people who scoff when I refer to Buffy as art (a recent issue of Entertainment Weekly ran a reader letter in response to their list of the five best TV series based on movies which said, "Ranking Buffy above M*A*S*H is like saying that Tommy Boy is better than Casablanca."), and it's hard to get them to take you (or the show) seriously. Often, I've had pick one of the series' several landmark episodes, like "Hush" or "Once More, With Feeling," to spark their interest...now all I have to do is to refer them to this book. Granted, the book references most of the crucial events from the series' seven seasons, but hopefully the layers and the depth that the book lays bare will be enough to captivate a newcomer. As Wilcox says, Buffy is no longer just a thing of cult worship; it's well on its way to becoming a television classic. Her book has made me love the show even more. A+

  23. 8/3: Starship Troopers (1959, Robert A. Heinlein) - I'm not entirely sure that I agree with some of the more militaristic ideals presented in Starship Troopers, but what I am sure of is that Heinlein has written an excellent piece of work. Endlessly controversial, Starship Troopers has been heavily criticized in the past for being nothing more than a propaganda piece used to make Heinlein's beliefs seem favorable, but I find it rather strange that so many seem to think that they have pinned down exactly what Heinlein's beliefs are, at least according to the text. At first, the world in which the characters (all sketches of people except for its narrator Juan "Johnnie" Rico, which I think perfectly demonstrates the compellingly conflicted themes in the book) live seems almost utopian simply because of militaristic virtues, but there are many subtleties inherent in Heinlein's writing. On the surface, yes, this world seems perfect, and the characters all generally agree that their society is flawless. But there are always creeping allusions to how this happened, as well as the dark corners of the world that we never see. There is hardly any actual military action in the book, most of it just perfectly capturing the tedium of waiting for battle. There are some weaknesses in the book, other than its at times awkward skirting of battles, like its tendency to use certain characters as rallying points for beliefs (yes, I disagreed with this earlier, but there are some small instances). Still, there are few science fiction novels that remain as socially relevant as Starship Troopers. I am sincerely amazed that this was written before the Vietnam War. It fits right in with the rest of history. A-

  24. 8/17: The Tale of the Body Thief (1992, Anne Rice) - The fourth in Rice's dense, seductive Vampire Chronicles series, The Tale of the Body Thief is also the best thus far, beating out even the first two classic chapters, Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, and far exceeding the solid but disappointing third entry, The Queen of the Damned. The Tale of the Body Thief finds Lestat, ever the lonely but romantic visage of vampiric power, switching bodies with a mortal (the "body thief" in the title) only before realizing that the mortal never intends to give his body and its wonderful preternatural powers back. The thriller half of the plot, about trying to find the body thief and win Lestat's body back, is compelling and exciting, but the real draw here is Lestat's experience as a mortal. Throughout the series, Lestat has always pined for his humanity, has always wanted to go back to whence he came. Rice is at her best and most poetic when describing Lestat's experiences as a mortal, how he sees things, how he feels things, how he genuinely despises but at the same time loves his frail mortal figure. As always in a Rice book, there are many fascinating conversations about theology and belief, but this is the first time where one of those conversations doesn't hit a dry point and go on and on far past its end, effectively stopping the book in its tracks. Rice has always used that device to further exposition, but here she doesn't--she easily could've used the intriguing character of David Talbot for such--and the story works itself out emotionally through Lestat's words and actions (of course, the book is told from Lestat's point of view, as if he had "written" it). There is some absolutely beautiful and mesmerizing imagery that will buzz about inside your head for days...this is truly a masterful work, and, after The Queen of the Damned and The Witching Hour, puts Rice right back up on the pedestal she had begun to slip from. A+

  25. 8/22: Firefly: The Official Companion - Vol. 1 (2006, Abbie Bernstein, Bryan Cairns, Karl Derrick, and Tara Di Lullo) - The first half of a lavish two-part companion set put out by Titan Books about Joss Whedon's short-lived space western Firefly (which was continued in last year's breathtaking Serenity, also given the companion treatment by Titan), as an extreme Browncoat, this is one of the finest purchases I've ever made. Containing the original teleplays for the first seven episodes (if you count the pilot "Serenity" as a two-parter) as well as cast and crew anecdotes, Firefly: The Official Companion - Vol. 1 unearths a bevy of tantalizing trivia that even I did not know. Who knew that the terrifying derelict spaceship in "Bushwhacked" was made from an old Power Rangers set? Or that the necklace Zoe wears carries extra emotional resonance since it was one of the bootlaces she wore in the War of Independence? A fascinating, exhaustive, and very very nice-looking tome, this is essential for every single Browncoat. Can't wait for Vol. 2! A+

  26. 8/25: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone/Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (1997, J.K. Rowling) - The first entry in J.K. Rowling's beloved, phenomenally popular Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (as it was renamed for the American market rather nonsensically because of the connotations we bring to the term "philosopher") is just as charming, magical, and absorbing as it always has been. Though having read all six books in the series currently on shelves (with the seventh still on the way), it is apparent that Sorcerer's Stone is lacking some of the depths and complexities of the books it precedes, it's just as densely plotted and breathtaking. Rowling's prose is, yes, not as elegant as, say, fellow genre masters Anne Rice or J.R.R. Tolkien, but she still is a genre master, and the beauty of her writing lies in its laidback, casual, relatable approach. For all of the magic being performed, everything is treated strictly in a normal, conversational tone, allowing Harry's wonder to shine through (something that all of the movies excepting Prisoner of Azkaban have failed to do). Rowling's humor, though perhaps not as smashing here as it is in the later books, is especially wonderful, and allows the story to take itself seriously without taking itself seriously...if you've read the stuff, you'll know what I mean. A great introduction to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's magical world. A+

  27. 9/2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (1998, J.K. Rowling) - Much darker and more epic than Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is a fantastic follow-up to a great introductory novel. Rowling here expands on everything that she set up in Sorcerer's Stone, and her rich world-building qualities are rare and wonderful, ranking right up there with Whedon's, Tolkien's, and Lucas'. The book still retains its predecessor's lighthearted humor and plotting, but there are some dark themes at work here, and it's here where we discover that the Hogwarts grounds are hiding some truly nasty secrets that are looking to prey on our heroes. A+

  28. 9/5: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (1999, J.K. Rowling) - Set after the dark but still somewhat light in tone Chamber of Secrets and before the pivotal Goblet of Fire, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is a delightfully dark third entry in the series, perfectly melding the more jovial qualities of the first two books with the encroaching sense of tragedy that is soon to come. Introducing the dementors, Sirius Black, and Cornelius Fudge, Prisoner of Azkaban sets a lot up for later books, yet is probably the single most stand-alone entry in the series, as it doesn't overly rely on what we've learned before despite some assumed familiarities, as well as the fact that it's the only book in the series to not prominently feature He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the deadly Lord Voldemort. Amusing yet also somewhat disturbing, Prisoner of Azkaban proves that Rowling can mature the series just as well as she can the characters. A+

  29. 9/14: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2000, J.K. Rowling) - This is where the Harry Potter series begins to change. The first three books, despite some seriously dark undercurrents, had managed to retain a marginal feeling of lightheartedness...things were more or less resolved happily by the end of each. Not so with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire which opens up with a chilling sequence involving a Muggle named Frank Bryce and continues to get even more dark and disturbing. The end of the novel is especially bittersweet, as the characters--who are busy going through adolescence and coming of age themselves--realize that their peaceful illusions about the magical world they live in are about to come crashing down around them. The best and most satisfying of the Harry Potter books so far released, Goblet of Fire is a true fantasy masterwork, handily outclassing its predecessors, which were marvelous to begin with. A+

  30. 9/22: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2003, J.K. Rowling) - Though initially as frustrating and irksome as Harry is at the novel's start, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix moves past these growing pains to become, in the end, perhaps the saddest of the series, as well as the one that deals most frankly with the corruption inherent in every corner of the magical community. It's a rollicking adventure but also, as the longest so far in the series, with a good deal of depth and surprises that pay off information given to us years ago. In a world where so much children's literature is just that, children's literature, Rowling again proves that her books are full-scale events for good reason. A+

  31. 9/29: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2005, J.K. Rowling) - After the hugely epic scope of the previous two books in the series, it's a little hard to appreciate the genius of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince until you're nearing its end. Despite being something more than 600 pages long, Half-Blood Prince is probably the most intimate of the series, focusing mostly on relationships: Friendship, romantic relationships, faculty relationships at Hogwarts, and indeed the relationships between the members of the entire international magical community. This is not the calm before the storm; Goblet of Fire served as that. Being the penultimate book in the series, Half-Blood Prince is instead the final stepping stone to the end, setting up everything that will fuel the fire of the finale. However, Rowling is too talented a writer to make all of this exposition read like exposition; it's stil the rich, character-building material we're used to. I genuinely cannot wait for the last book, rumored to arrive next summer. Ms. Rowling, give us your best. A+

  32. 9/29: Imagine: John Lennon (1988, Andrew Solt and Sam Egan) - Released as a companion book to the great documentary and the amazing soundtrack of the same name, Imagine: John Lennon culls rare photographs and quotes of Lennon and those who figured importantly into his life to tell the story of the man, his music, and his beliefs (not to mention the subsequent persecution he faced because of them). While it's true that the book does gloss over some crucial bits here and there, it's still fantastic for its photographs and its words, which is what its intent was in the first place. Pretty much a must-have for any Lennon fan. A+

  33. 10/1: King Dork (2006, Frank Portman) - If I could pick two books that most closely identified my general attitude towards life (not, mind you, my actual life, but my attitude towards it), I would pick Portman's brilliant debut novel King Dork along with, ironically, The Catcher in the Rye, which King Dork's narrator Tom Henderson makes frequent mention of and rather loathes (though it's a slight bit more complicated than that). Portman, perhaps better known as Dr. Frank, the lead singer/songwriter of the band The Mr. T Experience, imbues his lead with a biting wit, a great mind, and a catchy way of playing around with language that brings to mind the sensibilities of Veronica Mars mixed with the wordplay of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, filtered through a whole lot of angst and drama. However, this is no superfifical O.C. angst and drama: Tom must solve the puzzle of his dad's death which occurred in 1993 (he was either murdered or committed suicide, or maybe both...seriously), navigate the sexual slipstream, and keep his constantly-changing band together in some form. The book is very complicated, but, in true Veronica/Buffy fashion, Tom handles the many varied situations with wit and skill; you'll be longing for a brain as multifaceted, multitasking, and brilliant as his. I don't wanna get all ahead of myself here or anything, but I very well think that King Dork may end up becoming one of the defining books of this generation. Besides the fact that Tom takes every opportunity to trash the Doors. Eh, it's forgivable, considering. And, hey, make sure you read the glossary. This one actually adds to the book! A+

  34. 10/5: Sex and the Slayer: A Gender Studies Primer for the Buffy Fan (2005, Lorna Jowett) - Alternately fascinating and frustrating, Sex and the Slayer: A Gender Studies Primer for the Buffy Fan takes an intriguing look at the presentation of "feminine" and "masculine" traits in Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but stuck within the boundaries of the highly inexact field of gender studies, Jowett makes some pretty big oversights. Jowett seems very keen on coding certain characters as either "feminine" or "masculine," and actually creates some distinctions for each, such as "New Men" or "Bad Girls." Yet when looking at the rich and detailed text of Buffy only through gender representation, Jowett rarely makes any connections between that, morality, emotion, and the political statements that Whedon sought to make, which is crucial to understanding the importance of the show as a piece of American (or international) pop culture. I find it rather odd that the only unanimously praised character is Willow, who is celebrated for her lesbian tendencies which do not stoop to what I guess Jowett would consider traditional "femininity," which the book interprets as standing outside patriarchal society. Yet all of the heterosexual characters are at points condemned for their heterosexual romances, Jowett claiming their "feminine" weakness, despite the fact that she states she is heterosexual as well. There are a wealth of interesting places that Jowett could have gone, and while I don't agree with quite a few of the large points she makes, it's still a compelling, thought-provoking read, one that I'm sure any Buffy hardcore will appreciate. B+

  35. 10/8: Slayer Slang: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Lexicon (2003, Michael Adams) - An interesting read. A very, very interesting read. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite realize its full potential; the first 125 pages of the book are insightful but rather repetitive studies of linguistics mostly aimed at newcomers to the subject (like myself), and the other 60% is a highly detailed glossary that is pretty much required material for any hardcore Buffy fan (also like myself). Adams studies all of the wonderfully innovative and playful uses of language employed by Joss Whedon and company in the groundbreaking Buffy the Vampire Slayer television series, and doesn't stop there: He also examines and records the language present in the sphere surrounding the show, Buffyverse fandom, from tie-in novels to magazine articles to language used by posters on the show's official (and now retired) message boards. This is the book's most interesting and frustrating point. In studying the effects that Buffy had not just in its weekly one-hour doses but also the effects that it continues to have on cult circles and in the mainstream, he makes a very passionate and convincing argument for the study of what is considered "ephemeral" or "low" forms of language as being just as historically and culturally important as "high" forms of language, and of course he is perfectly correct...but sometimes he seems a mite glib, especially when enthusing over some bits of odd 'net slang some poster uses. Which is not to say that message board posters are to be trivialized: I run a message board, I've run others before it, and am a frequent poster on several boards. I live for it, almost. But Adams writes in a way that seems to both advocate and trivialize his studies. He also makes some glaring mistakes, as some of the episode air dates listed in the glossary are incorrect, and he inexplicably chooses to list the third season episode "Beauty and the Beasts" with its extremely obscure alternate title "All Men Are Beasts" (even I had to resort to Google to dig up info on that one). Still, his essays pick up as they go on, and the glossary--as I've mentioned--is quite priceless. B+
Author Comments: 

Italics indicate a re-reading.