cerusee: a white redheaded girl in a classroom sitting by the window chewing on a pencil and looking bored (Default)
Non-fiction prose:

Nicholson, Geoff: The Lost Art of Walking
(didn't finish it--I don't quite remember why now, but I think it was because it was sort of boring and mostly about the author's own experiences walking, rather than being a more general treatise on the act of walking. The latter would have been informative; the former is pretty dull).


Mystery:

Stout, Rex: A Right To Die
(While I appreciate that Stout probably meant well in making race the theme of this book, he probably shouldn't have, because he does a lot of dumb things. The bulk of his work predated the Civil Rights Movement, and racial relations seem to have crept up on him in the last decade of his very long and prolific career. However, the various wince-inducing race-related moments in this book have nothing, absolutely nothing, on the introduction by David Stout--no relation to Rex--which was written in 1994, and kicks off by saying that although there's nothing wrong with a white woman and a black man in a relationship, we all have to look deep into our hearts in order to realize that. Oh, David Stout, FUCK YOU. Rex Stout was a man of his time belatedly recognizing the significance of Civil Rights, and his racial sins were sins of omission, not something more toxic. And he was trying. There is no racist apology in the book itself that equals David Stout's implication that interracial relationships are shocking and taboo and morally troublesome. To to say something that asinine in 1994, in the service of introducing a not particularly transgressive work? Go to hell).

Stout, Rex: And Four to Go, Black Orchids, Trouble in Triplicate
(all very enjoyable, all lacking the mild ambition of discussing race in any way, all lacking people of color, which is pretty standard for Stout. As I said, sins of omission. I'm white and don't know much about the history and racial politics of New York circa 1930-1960, so that tends to be easy for me to ignore).


Graphic novels/comics:

Bechdel, Alison: Dykes and Sundry Other Carbon-Based Life-Forms to Watch Out For.

Rabagliati, Michel: Paul goes fishing
(less about fishing and more about the heartbreak of miscarriage. It's a good book, but not all that well structured. The other Paul books were stronger).

Robinson, Alex: Tricked
(Hated the rock star guy--the romance was underwhelming, and I felt no sympathy for him at all, nor interest in how his sudden fixation on Lily made his life better. It didn't make him a better or more interesting person, it just made him happy, and I don't care. Generally, I hated or barely liked most of the characters, and the conceit of their lives all becoming intertwined until they culminate in that one climactic moment--eh. I've seen it done much better).

Delisle, Guy: Burma Chronicles
(waaaaaaay better than Shenzhen, in many ways, and more of a genuine pleasure than Pyongyang, which was almost purely upsetting. For whatever reason--because he was here with a wife and child, because his wife was deeply involved in humanitarian work in Burma, and the related politics of that, because the length of his stay and his more relaxed lifestyle permitted it--Delisle actually seems to have gotten to know people in Burma, and learned about their lives and culture. While China's political system is by no means ideal to me, Delisle's criticisms of Shenzhen seemed, well...shallow, uninformed, ethnocentric, and lacking in real critical perspective--there is legitimate criticism of China to be made, quite a lot of it, but he wasn't doing it well, and he came across as totally uninterested in people's actual lives. Not the case here. Although life in Burma is pretty depressing and scary in many ways, same as in Pyongyang, this is a much warmer book nevertheless--the description of the betel-nut chewing, the Water Festival, the love of children that made Delisle's infant son very popular in his neighborhood, the deeply emotional, quiet reverence that the locals hold for Aung San Suu Kyi, sitting silently under house arrest in a decades-long act of political protest--all of this made for a much richer, more interesting, less ethnocentric book than Shenzhen. This one, I can whole-heartedly recommend).
cerusee: a white redheaded girl in a classroom sitting by the window chewing on a pencil and looking bored (Default)
Novels/prose books:

Kawana, Sari: Murder Most Modern: Detective Fiction and Japanese Culture
(it's an academic work--according to her bio, Kawana is an assistant prof of Japanese at UMass Boston, and hey, right in my backyard!--but well-written and accessible, especially since I have a background in communications & culture studies, and already grok the basic system she's working with. Kawana looks at the relationship between detective fiction and culture in Taisho and early Showa-era Japan. There's way too much material in here for me to try to summarize it, but I do recommend it if you're at all interested in Japanses detective fiction; even with my scanty historical knowledge of the subject, this was an interesting read. And it has a bibliography, which will come in handy for the mystery manga/Japanese mystery project).


Graphic novels:

Shelley, Mary, author, Gary Reed, adapter, Fraser Irving, illustrator: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein: The Graphic Novel
(the art, though whacked, is good, but I'm afraid the book does not stand as an independent work, as Reed says he hopes it will; the adapted script leaves out facts necessary to figure out what the hell is going on. So Justine is blamed for the murder of William. Great. Who's Justine? The adaptation never identifies her or her relationship to Victor. I can guess from context, but it's jarring. I have read the original Frankenstein, but not recently enough to be able to fill in the missing details, and if the work is supposed to stand on its own, I shouldn't need to have read the original to make sense of the adaptation).

Moon, Fabio and Gabriel Ba: De: Tales: Stories from Urban Brazil
(kind of awesome. Is this what's referred to as magical realism? I like it. I could comfortably share head space with these guys).

McCulloch, Derek, writer, Shepherd Hendrix, artist: Stagger Lee
(I gather from McCulloch's notes that this is fictionalized enough from the scanty known historical record that it should not be taken as a textbook history; nevertheless, it is a pretty cool reconstruction of the actual historical murder of Billy Lyons by Stag Lee Sheldon, nicely contextualized in late 19th century St. Louis).

Rabagliati, Michel: Paul Moves Out
(I can never figure out what I like best about Rabagliati--the basic pleasant decency of Paul and the people he knows, the underlying peacefulness and happiness of these slice-of-life style stories, or all of the Quebecois cultural references which are completely new to me).


Manga:

Hidaka Yoshiki, story, Tsugihara Ryuji, art: The First President of Japan, vol. 4
(I would love, love, love to see an analysis of the values of this manga in the larger political and cultural sphere in Japan, as written by someone who knew them well. I have only a vague grasp of the issues myself, so I'm very much at the mercy of the author for context and interpretation. I can testify that it's very entertaining, though).
cerusee: a white redheaded girl in a classroom sitting by the window chewing on a pencil and looking bored (Default)
Graphic novels/comics:

Baldock, Kirsten, writer, Fabio Moon, artist: Smoke and Guns
(shades of "writing a story based on what you love"--in this case, girls in fetishy outfits, lots of cigarette smoking by women young enough that they aren't showing any of the outer signs of the way cigarettes destroy your body, and lots of guns and gunfire. We do get to see some of the outer signs of how guns destroy your body, though. Whee? Well, Baldock and Moon clearly enjoyed themselves making this, and it's a fun romp if you don't mind all the male-oriented fanservice, casual violence, and the most over-the-top glamorization of smoking I've ever seen. Really, I think the only way you could make the smoking/sex thing more obvious would be if you created a line of cigarette-shaped dildos and sheaths...).

Eisner, Will, artist and adapter, Herman Melville, author: Moby Dick.

Sipe, Harold, story, Hector Casanova, art: Screamland (issues 2-5)
(ahhh, the high-concept comic. I kinda dig Dracula--Dracula in the closet to protect his movie career as a ladies man/sex icon is certainly a clever undercutting of the trope. None of the rest of it feels that inspired to me, but it's cute).

Masereel, Frans: Story Without Words: a novel in pictures, Passionate Journey: A Vision in Woodcuts, The City: A Vision in Woodcuts
(I dig the more precise, detailed style of The City to the rougher, thicker lines of the others, but all of it works pretty well. I do keep having to remind myself that this would have been more mind-blowing to an audience that had not grown up reading comics and graphic novels and wasn't already utterly familiar with wordless art sequences. To me, these are good pieces of work in a style I already know (and like less than genuine word/image fusions), but I know that once upon a time, this was revolutionary).

Swain, Carol: Foodboy
(eek).

Dupuy, Philippe: Haunted
(D&Q. The back says this is Dupuy's second solo effort away from fellow creator Charles Berberian, distinct from the tightly constructed narratives and urbane, elegant graphics of his projects with Berberian. Frankly, I'd think I'd rather see the tightly constructed narratives and urbane, elegant aesthetic of those projects; the loose, floppy, and rather pointless shorts that make up this book did not interest or impress me).

Rabagliati, Michel: Paul has a summer job
(Recommended! I loved this book hard. It's so lovely to read an graphic novel/memoir about someone who wasn't a wasted stoner asshole in his youth, even if he did go through a period of feeling frustrated and directionless. This is a beautiful, happy book about decent people something doing something good and enjoying it, and learning from it. A fun to read, well-illustrated account of what I baselessly assume is the author's experience of working as a counselor at a summer camp for underprivileged kids back in 1979, shortly after he'd dropped out of high school. These are either happy memories for Rabagliati or a really good fictional approximation of same, and he clearly enjoys relating them, but without any sense from the narrator of regret or wishing he could go back--it's enough to have had the experience and grown from it. I'm really impressed with Rabagliati, and will look for books by him in the future.

As I over the book again, I realize that it nowhere claims to be a memoir or non-fiction--I just assumed it was! I have edited my comments accordingly).

September 2012

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