Two Nurses, Smoking by David Means

3/5 stars

What's it about? In these sometimes connected stories, people grapple with anguish, loss, and choices. David Means writes an earnest collection that wants us to feel something.

How’d I find it? I read in Harper's “Stopping Distance,” in which a man and woman connect through a bereavement group for parents who have lost children, and went out to pick up the book that contained it. Politics and Prose always has the goods.

Who will enjoy this book? This read strongly reminded me of The Sadness of Beautiful Things and will appeal to fans of Simon Van Booy. Dog lovers, the story “Clementine, Carmelita, Dog” will bring you to tears and make your day. Means did well to lead the collection with this stunner.

What stood out? Aside from the aforementioned Homeward Bound-esque tale, I enjoyed the two Harper’s stories best, the other being "The Red Dot,” about a local restaurateur who questions everything when he sees his ex-wife kayaking. “The Depletion Prompts” closes the collection, an interesting take on craft that offers context for the preceding stories. The book’s Achilles’ heel is forced sentiment that occasionally shouts from the page. I couldn’t always buy in.

Which line made me feel something? Means sure loves a long sentence, and this snippet from “The Red Dot” is a beaut: “We were both thinking, I’m sure, about the dangerous currents that ran all the way up the estuary, dug deep by retreating glaciers, or volcanic activity, a ridge meeting the sea so that the sea and the river battled each other twice a day, if you want to look at it that way, or, better yet, lovingly embraced each other in a mutual, moon-drawn embrace, running silently through the darkness of night and in the heat of day past all the human folly and abject sadness we create when we’re here, as it would when we were long gone—just bones and earth”.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler

3/5 stars

What's it about? In a violent America, Lauren Olamina knows her community exists on borrowed time, its protective walls no match for murderers, fire-crazed drug addicts, hungry dogs, and thieves. As Lauren prepares for a life outside, including managing her secret ability to feel others’ pain, she develops her own spiritual philosophy and ambitions to spread it to others. A book about the journey, survival, and found families.

How’d I find it? The legacy of Octavia Butler means this read has been on my radar for years. I picked up a copy at Powell’s.

Who will enjoy this book? Those who liked the Broken Earth trilogy by N. K. Jemisin should appreciate.

What stood out? Parable of the Sower takes the form of Lauren’s diary, which contains the reader within Lauren’s steadfast, no-nonsense worldview and obscures some of the book’s more interesting characters, like Bankole and Grayson Mora. Butler does not hold back in hammering home the bleak nature of the book’s reality; death, rape, and loss lap like waves. The ramifications of Lauren’s pain-sharing abilities don’t come through, but perhaps this plot point is more important in the next installment.

Which line made me feel something? While many of Lauren’s philosophical writings can come off as Instapoetry, the opening verse offers much to chew on: “Prodigy is, at its essence, adaptability and persistent, positive obsession. Without persistence, what remains is an enthusiasm of the moment. Without adaptability, what remains may be channeled into destructive fanaticism. Without positive obsession, there is nothing at all.”

Wound from the Mouth of a Wound by torrin a. greathouse

3/5 stars

What's it about? torrin a. greathouse writes the violence and beauty of the queer, trans, disabled, and chronically ill experience. A book of reckoning and blooming.

How’d I find it? I discovered greathouse’s work in an issue of Poetry and have so been looking forward to reading her debut collection. This copy came from Multnomah County Library.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of Danez Smith and Cameron Awkward-Rich should appreciate, and I think this would also appeal to young adult readers ready to take on darker and more intimate discussions of self-discovery.

What stood out? I wanted this book to pass my “wound” test, especially since the word appears twice in the title. Of course it didn’t. Wound from the Mouth of a Wound is not to blame. The book succeeds at its own objectives, and greathouse’s ear for language and creativity in form attest to an outstanding talent. Take my favorite poems of the collection, “They Leave Nothing for the Morning” and “On Using the Wo│men’s Bathroom.” Bangers. But was the general dictionary of words as expected (teeth and throat and tongue and stars and blood)? Yes. And am I at a stage in my readership in which I prefer books that transcend the experience of the self and its history? Also yes.

Which line made me feel something? Recognizing that excerpting will butcher the poem’s careful line breaks, here’s a snippet from “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination Before a Diagnosis Can Be Determined:” “Still, inside my body— / kingdom with poisoned wells. I want anything but an elegy / lining my bones. I just want to be a question this body can answer.”

What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding by Kristin Newman

3/5 stars

What's it about? While contemporaries settle down and start families, sitcom writer Kristin Newman chases romance and adventure around the world. A lighthearted, sometimes bawdy read that guarantees a happy ending (thank you, thank you) as early as the dedication page.

How’d I find it? A delightful colleague at Solid State Books recommended this some months ago, and I picked up a copy at Multnomah County Library.

Who will enjoy this book? Amy Schumer’s The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo has a similar tone and energy.

What stood out? Newman delivers a cohesive narrative with developed characters (the enigmatic “Ferris Bueller,” her besties Hope and Sascha), and I enjoyed her travel recommendations. The book’s humor and epiphanies all read as too obvious for my taste, though this might not ring true for others.

Which line made me feel something? Newman and I share an ick: “There were a few months spent with an overly emotional French writer, who absolutely made it into my Top Three in the bed department, but who called his own writing ‘beautiful.’”

A Line in the World by Dorthe Nors, translated by Caroline Waight

3/5 stars

What's it about? Dorthe Nors explores the forces and landscape of Denmark’s northernmost coast in this contemplative collection of essays.

How’d I find it? I learned about this book through a review in Harper’s then found a copy at Normals Books & Records, which has notably good nature writing on offer.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of Roger Deakin’s Waterlog and Mary Oliver’s Upstream should try this one.

What stood out? A Line in the World captures the Jutland Peninsula and the surrounding islands in all their diversity, cultural quirks, and violent expressions of nature. You can almost feel the windslap on your cheeks in every paragraph. The book is beautifully illustrated by Signe Parkins, who appears in the essay “The Timeless.”

Which line made me feel something? From “The Tracks around Bulbjerg:” “The eternal, fertile and dread-laden stream inside us. This fundamental question: do you want to remember or forget? Either way, something will grow. A path, a scar in the mind, a sorrow that you cannot grasp, because it belongs to someone else. All that must be carried alone. All that cannot be told.”

Congratulations, the Best Is Over by R. Eric Thomas

3/5 stars

What's it about? In this charming essay collection, R. Eric Thomas returns to his native Baltimore, where he works through mental health challenges, buys his first home with his husband, weathers the pandemic, and navigates grief — heavy subjects sweetened by the author’s humor and vulnerability.

How’d I find it? I received this as a Christmas gift, but you should buy a copy from a Baltimore bookstore.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of David Sedaris and Phoebe Robinson might appreciate.

What stood out? As a recent resident of Baltimore, I delighted in Thomas’s rediscovery of his hometown. Thomas knows how to balance self-deprecating jokes with serious discussions of American life, which makes his work approachable. A standout essay is “Clap Until You Feel It,” a journey through depression to chase the feeling of an Oprah’s Favorite Things episode. Because many of the essays feel unfinished or abrupt in their transitions, I wonder how this book would have read if fleshed out as a memoir.

Which line made me feel something? “Am I my ancestors’ wildest dream? Babe, I don’t know. I’ll settle for being my ancestors’ weirdest dream. I’m the dream my ancestors had when they got indigestion.”

Emergency by Kathleen Alcott

3/5 stars

What's it about? In these seven stories, women face turning points in their lives and seek exits. A powerful collection about reckoning with the self and embracing the fallout.

How’d I find it? I read “Temporary Housing” in Harper’s, and my socks? Blown off. I swiftly ordered Emergency from Lost City Books.

Who will enjoy this book? If you want to hang out in a long Lana Del Rey song, this read is for you.

What stood out? As a lover of Lana and sad girl ennui in general, this book felt written for me. Yes, the stories are California even when set in New York. Yes, the female friendships are overwhelming. Yes, Alcott’s work pairs well with a drink. The stories sag in certain places, and another round of editing might have cleared out distracting details (i.e. Helen’s jeans in “Emergency” — are they on or off?) to let narrative shine. Either way, “Temporary Housing” is a knockout and worthy of any reader’s eyes.

Which line made me feel something? Because many of my favorite excerpts appear at the end of these stories and I wouldn’t dare spoil one, here’s a tidbit from “Part of the Country”: “This was something my mother had warned me about, the spring I met him, but by then I saw her advice like something in the back of a fridge, likely past its expiry and suspect anyway for how rarely one had reached for it.”

How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu

3/5 stars

What’s it about? A plague unleashed in 2030 by melting Arctic ice threatens the existence of humans in this ambitious novel about love, human connectedness, and responsibility for our shared future. Linked stories spotlight grief in its many guises via an exciting array of plot devices (space missions and a talking pig and purgatory, among others).

How’d I find it? I periodically check on my favorite authors’ readalikes to get new book ideas, and this came up as a recommendation for David Mitchell readers. And oh boy, do I love David Mitchell books.

Who will enjoy this book? The cover likens How High We Go in the Dark to Station Eleven and Cloud Atlas, but I would recommend it more for fans of The Passage series by Justin Cronin.

What stood out? I loved Nagamatsu’s creative swings. The City of Laughter terrifies in its sugar-coated benevolent executions, and the rise of funerary megacorporations heralds a grim new order. It’s obvious in the writing that Nagamatsu wants us to feel the earnestness of his project, as he doesn’t miss a chance to slather on the sentiment. This book is emo. I would have liked to spend more time in its interesting reality (the purple pendant!) and less in each character’s impending or recent loss.

Which line made me feel something? “I saw tiny vessels breaking free of the planet, great cities floating above in rings of glass. I saw a civilization that could destroy itself before it even reached the nearest star. But I also saw a world that would be the first witness the quiet of intergalactic space and walk on the ruins of whatever remains of us.”

Machines in the Head by Anna Kavan

3/5 stars

What's it about? Mental illness, addiction, and ennui haunt this selection of short stories by Anna Kavan. A sinister and strange moan of a book.

How’d I find it? I have heard twitterings among booksellers about Anna Kavan before and was intrigued to find this copy among the offerings at Lost City Books.

Who will enjoy this book? Admirers of Lucia Berlin and The Bell Jar should enjoy, as well as those who seek speculative elements in their literary fiction, such as Kavan’s ever-morphing city that recalls Italo Calvino.

What stood out? The selections from Asylum Piece open the book grimly, salvaged by the strength of later standouts like “A Bright Green Field” and “Face of My People.” The stories benefit from an illuminating forward by editor Victoria Walker about Kavan’s life and influence.

Which line made me feel something? From “Ice Storm:” “The big unbroken trees sprayed like unclear fountains towards the mist. Through the centre of each jet of clouded crystal the black branch was threaded. The trees were lovely and frightening to look at. I tried not to feel afraid of the trees. Dear God, let me not start being afraid of things in the natural world.”

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr.

3/5 stars

What's it about? The novel follows the monks of the abbey of Saint Leibowitz in three different future eras as they endure the travails of their time. Expect spaceships, a Station Eleven-esque reverence for antiquity, and quests for purpose through religious conviction.

How’d I find it? A fellow science fiction fan encouraged me to check this out, and I found a copy at Books-A-Million before having a drink at the bar next door.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of Lauren Groff's Matrix, lovers of apocalyptic slow burns, and those interested in the push and pull between faith and secularity.

What stood out? Several eerily prescient moments make it hard to believe Miller wrote this book in 1959. The biggest hint of the time is the lurk of nuclear war, though this doesn't make the writing feel dated. Look out for the Poet — a thoroughly entertaining presence in the second act.

Which line made me feel something? "You don't have a soul, Doctor. You are a soul. You have a body, temporarily."