The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Stephen Chbosky)

Wallflower is technically a Young Adult/Teen novel. At least, that is what is laminated neatly onto the spine of the copy I checked out from the library. It’s the story Charlie, a high school freshman struggling with the normal pressures and overly dramatic situations of the teen years, a story told through Charlie’s letters to an anonymous someone. Since it was recommended to me by a good friend that I conquered that adolescent experience with, I figured it would be worth a try.

In the end, I would say that it was. With simple phrasing and little vocabulary words (which did get a bit “Dick and Jane” in areas), Charlie does relate a compelling tale. It was a good book to not get out of bed with on a Sunday morning. At least, that’s what I did. I finished it up before finally getting my lazy ass up to complete a deadline for a story I was writing.

It was more than a trifle predicable. Charlie reads all the coming-of-age books in school—Catcher in the Rye, Separate Peace, Mockingbird, etc—that the novel itself hopes to emulate. Except the author attempts to modernize the theme with references to Nirvana, currently popular drugs, homosexuality and sexual… well, sexual stuff. I won’t divulge any spoilers.

The problem with modernization is that everything eventually becomes dated—the book’s multiple references to “mix tapes,” for example. The quality of the story has to outweigh those outdated elements and many of the stories Charlie reads in school do this well. Wallflower, however, will never be among those classics. While interesting and, yes, touching, it just doesn’t have the oomph. See oomph for further explanation or listen to Oomph! To be further confused.

Me Talk Pretty One Day (David Sedaris)

So David Sedaris makes me look a little psycho. No, not in comparison to his sanity—Ha! As if! Not by pointing out the oddities of my character but because, when I read this book, I couldn’t help but talk to myself, exclaiming about Sedaris’ witticisms. And, yes, laughing out loud. Very loud. It went a bit like this…

The Boyfriend: “What on earth are you doing in there?”

Me: “Sedaris.”

The Boyfriend: “Ah.”

I finally saw that reading the funny bits aloud to The Boyfriend was also unproductive. He could barely understand me—reading fast with excitement and laughing over all the words, having to back track to pertinent sections. He must have thought he was watching me share and inside joke with myself. Or, with a book. Normally I just keep such jokes between you and me, my beloved internet.

Me Talk Pretty is witty, sharp and, as if you couldn’t guess, very funny. The book is a collection of autobiographical tales relating to Sedaris’ inability to communicate with the outside world. It begins with his childhood lisp and his trusty thesaurus, which would provide an s-less an alternative to any word. It follows Sedaris into adulthood, living abroad in Paris and attempting the evil and malicious French language. Literally translating all those French phrases—such as the movie Is it Necessary to Save the Private Ryan?—and regaling the native population with his mastery of one word. The word? Ashtray. Quite handy over there.

A great contribution to the pursuit of “reading for pleasure.” I place quotes around that for those of you who may not have tried or even heard of the concept. I guarantee that for you, especially for you my non-reader friends, this book is so fun and easy that it just may change your mind.

Arranged Marriage: Stories (Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni)

Being a woman of average American roots (meaning that I’m a mixed-breed, European mutt), I really enjoy sneak peaks into the lives and thoughts of other cultures. That experience of the sneak peak is the definition of this book. Divakaruna chronicles the stories of various women of Indian descent and their experiences within or regarding arranged marriage. Light, easy and very plot-driven, it is a fun little read.

That said, let’s get to the criticism. Sure, I would love to find our more about what it is really like to be in an arranged marriage. Most of these short stories, however, only relayed stereotypical events and attitudes that I could have pulled out of my own American head. Things like chauvinism, the preference for male children over female, the difficulty of obeying your (or your husband’s) elders, the disparity between the old country and the new life in America, the debate over educating women… I like some of the small sensory details like the feel and delicate pattern of a sari and the smells of India that make a native nostalgic. These details, however, were few and often repeated—in different stories, from supposedly different women’s lips. Both of these facts made the book, sure, interesting but flat. Predictable.

I believe a lot of these feeling come stem from the fact that the book was published in 1996. Much of the content would probably have felt newer then. As it stands, Arranged Marriage is simply a readable but not laudable collection of tales geared toward a female audience.

Desolation Angels (Jack Kerouac)

One summer, old Jacky was stationed on Desolation Peak in the Cascade Mountains with a view of a small mountain named Hozomeen. Though he claims to have been without mind-altering substances, this is what his cocaine-fueled brilliance captured on the page:

“The void is not disturbed by any kind of ups and downs, my God look at Hozomeen, is he worried or tearful? Does he bend before storms or snarl when the sun shines or sigh in the late day drowse? Does he smile? Was he not born out of madbrained turmoils and upheavals of raining fire and now’s Hozomeen and nothing else? Why should I choose to be bitter or sweet, he does neither?—Why can’t I be like Hozomeen and O Platitude O hoary old platitude of the bourgeois mind ‘take life as it comes…’

Does the Void take any part in life and death? Does it have funerals? Or birth cakes? Why not I be like the Void, inexhaustibly fertile, beyond serenity, beyond even gladness, just Old Jack (and not even that)…

Hold still, man, regain your love of life and go down from this mountain and simply be—be—be the infinite fertilities of the one mind of infinity, make no comments, complaints, criticisms, appraisals, avowals, sayings, shooting stars of thoughts, just flow, flow, be you all, be you what it is, it is only what it always is—Hope is a word like a snow-drift—This is the Great Knowing, this the Awakening, this is Voidness—So shut up, like, travel, adventure, bless and don’t be sorry—Prunes, prunes, eat your prunes—And you have been forever, and will be forever, and all the worrisome smashings of your foot on innocent cupboard doors it was only the Void pretending to be a man pretending not to know the Void—“

Geek Love (Katherine Dunn)

Now this simple cover may point at technology with it's modern bright orange and block script. You may think, aww, how cute, a story of nerd romance perhaps involving online dating, thick glasses, hacker tan and awkward pauses. You would be wrong, however. Turn back traveler for there are rocks ahead! The word "geek" in this context is referring to the carnival/side show variety--the person who bites the heads off of live chickens with nothing but their own pearly whites, washing themselves in poultry blood, is called a "geek." Ahh, yes. You may get where this novel is going now.

Geek Love is the story of the Binewskis, a carnival family led by Al Binewski and his wife (an ex-Bostonian socialite and ex-geek) Crystal Lil. Frustrated at his inability to find and keep reliable circus freaks on hand, Al had the inspiration that he and Lil should simply create their own family of performers by dosing the pregnant mother with various concoctions of illegal drugs and toxins. What results is the most, ahem, unique family in the history of modern literature: Arturo the Aquaboy (with fins where limbs should be), Electra and Iphigenia the siamese twins (sharing a set of legs and sprouting at the waist into two, talented at piano duets), Olympia the side show barker (an albino, hunchback dwarf) and Fortunato (who appears entirely normal but is powerfully telekinetic).

The narrator is Olympia ("Oly"), who is the third or fourth child of the Binewskis (depending on whether you are counting heads or asses). She chronicles the story of her family from her childhood into the present with startling depth and seriousness. Sure, you will laugh. I guarantee that much. What surprises the reader is the true humanity that Dunn instills in her characters, even through their abnormality, even while they are talking about removing algae from Arturo's tank from the hard to reach spot behind his balls. Remember, he has no arms!

The story is also far from humorous. While bizarre and perverse, the events feel amazingly real, as if the reader has a tangible if odd-smelling handle to hold during the gripping sections. You will be shocked with Dunn's daring and also at her ability to take all that oddity and somehow transform it into understandable messages of belonging, love, identity and human (even such freakish humans) purpose.

This is the second time I have read this book and I still sped my way to the finish, enthralled in Oly's tale. Geek Love is a one of a kind read and a testament to Dunn's talent--not to take the everyday and make it extraordinary but instead to take the strange, the weird and the twisted and transform it into something universally touching and poignant.