Fiction Junkie

I have hazy memories of the summer before my 2nd grade year and a wily little penguin, the protagonist of some children’s book that my mom would force me to read aloud far too often. I believe this was her attempt to quell my adamant rejection of the written word. As a little kid, I hated to read. Or, maybe I just had a difficult time with it. Regardless, now two decades later, I cannot get enough.

After a year of required readings and thousands (very seriously thousands) of pages on educational policy development and structure, feminist theory, and critical pedagogy, I have zealously embraced leisure reading with a reaffirmed passion for all things fiction. I am convinced that the perfect summer day consists of exercising outdoors, then heading off to enjoy a lazy morning coffee and casually peruse one of Seattle’s many fabulous used bookstores. I’m partial to Ophelia’s Books in Fremont, a charming little place (next to the Flying Apron bakery, no coincidence there) where patrons are greeted not only by a friendly cashier but an adorably lethargic tabby cat that roams the stacks. Also, Half Price Books in Capitol Hill is humongous, high ceilinged and air-conditioned, a great spot on particularly steamy
days.

So far, I’ve devoured some short stories, a novel here and there, and sincerely basked in the luxury of not needing to jot down notes or prepare for class discussion. This is me crafting my written response.

Best American Short Stories 2009 (Alice Sebold, Editor): Gosh, Alice Sebold is boring. I know, I know, everyone and their mom loves the Lovely Bones. Yes, like the rest of the nation, I read it half a decade ago and was both horrified and touched by the story. And, sure, I commend her for writing something that’s now been adapted into a screenplay starring Stanley Tucci (as the creeper, nonetheless) lest we forget Mark Wahlberg. But, I’m simply not her biggest fan.

Best American Short Stories 2004 (Lorrie Moore, Editor): Interestingly enough, I’d never heard of Moore prior to picking this up. After finishing this collection of short stories that she opted (or at least helped) to compile, I’m intrigued. I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled. Favs included: "Screenwriter", Charles D'Ambrosio and "Intervention", Jill McCorkle

She’s Come Undone, Wally Lamb: I have been hearing about this book for years, seen it on many a bookshelf in other used bookstores, and Oprah deemed it worthy of her stamp of approval (the same seal also rejected by Jonathan Franzen about 10 years ago, so I take this with a grain of salt). In any case, while not mind blowing, it turned out to be a $2, quick read, endearing and enjoyable.

The End of Alice, A.M. Homes: I love her. She is, without a doubt, in my top five favorite authors. Everything she writes is clean, clear, and yet at the same time riddled with vivid imagery. Since I've read all of her other fiction, I thought, why not, let's give this a go. Slightly disconcerting at best and disturbing at worst, could have perhaps done without the graphic clarity. But, that's why I heart her, right? Yeah.... Well, it’s told from the perspective of an imprisoned pedophile. I’ll let you imagine the rest.

The Mistress’s Daughter, A.M. Homes: Please see above (minues the part about pedophilia). In this memoir, Homes recounts her experiences finding her biological mother, analyzes her family, and does a really great job of relating the complexity of entwined emotions.

Empire Falls, Richard Russo: I didn’t realize that this had been made into an HBO miniseries a few years back, featuring everyone from Ed Harris to Helen Hunt to Philip Seymour Hoffman (and even Paul Newman!). When I get a chance, I will certainly watch it. Anyway, this was a good read. I’m not in love with Russo, but I liked the book. And even though it admittedly lagged for about 100 pages somewhere in the middle, the end left me, agape, wondering, “Um, really? WTF?!?”. Is that a sign of a great literature? Eh, no, not necessarily, but it was certainly entertaining.

Until I Find You, John Irving: Alright, so I only made it through about half of this novel. A quarter, even. And, even when I was laying out my $7 to purchase it, I KNEW this was going to happen. It’s not that I don’t love Irving’s writing – I do. I read the World According to Garp about two years ago, and thought it was great… When I finally got through it. In the same way that Homes is sparse, Irving is verbose; what could take a paragraph takes three pages. And, yes, the imagery is vibrant with plots often incredibly detailed and rich, but these books are just not commuter or public transportation friendly.

Cavedweller, Dorothy Allison: Oh, I will always have a soft spot for Dorothy Allison, ever since sitting in Hamilton’s Chapel and listening to her do a reading from her book, “Bastard out of Carolina”. She’s an amazing storyteller; almost all of her writing pulls from her own experiences of poverty, growing up in Appalachia, and as the oldest daughter of an unwed mother in a time and place when this was unacceptable (to say the least). True to form, this story is an unapologetically honest and quite lovely.

And, finally (randomly?), here's a snapshot from my morning walk to the gym. I adore this part of the UDistrict. At 7:30AM it is deserted, a bit barren, and totally lovely.