Having High Expectations of Creators

First, my nigh-obligatory film anecdote:

When I first learned the Christopher Nolan was making Interstellar, I was jazzed. A combination of two of my favorite things—Christopher Nolan films and astronomy? My goodness, yespleaseandthankyou.

Not to bash him or his creations, but…actually, Interstellar was just okay.

In discussing it with my wife afterward, though, an interesting point came up:

Am I disappointed because the movie itself wasn’t so grand, or was it more disappointing because Christopher Nolan was the one who made it?

Further, if it is more the second one, is it really fair to judge a creation differently based on who made it?

This might be surprising, but the short answer, I believe, is: yes, it is fair.

Now here’s the long answer (which is the literature tie-in to the film anecdote):

One day while perusing Barnes and Noble, I stumbled upon a brand-new book called Looking for Alaska by John Green. (This was back in 2005, of course.) I bought it, read the entire book that afternoon (by the way, this is the first novel I read all in one day), and LOVED it. My goodness, it was incredible. In fact, it held the role of my “favorite modern book” for a few years.

The next year, Green’s next book, An Abundance of Katherines, came out. Of course I picked it up right away. Though it wasn’t quite as FANTASTICBEAUTIFULAMAZING as Alaska, it was still very, very good.

And then, a couple years later, Paper Towns came out – which, as you may have noticed by now, is my favorite modern novel. My very very very favorite. (Directly taking over the crown from Alaska.)

John Green was, quite simply, THE author.

Next up was Will Grayson, Will Grayson. And there’s really no easy way to say this – and I’m deeply sorry, John; I still love you – but…I couldn’t even finish Grayson.

I wonder: if someone else had written Grayson, would I have at least liked it a little more? Was I only disappointed because it was John Green?

Possibly, though it’s impossible to say for sure.

Here’s the rub, though:

I suppose it might not sound fair to say I dislike Grayson even more because it was John Green. And yet, the definite fact is that I only even bought it in the first place because it was by him. If I had never heard of John Green – or if, say, it was his first book – I think I would have read the back cover while standing in B&N, then set it back down. (That’s if I even picked it up in the first place, which I very well might not have, since it has both the least interesting title and the least interesting cover of all his books.)

That said, if I only read a book at all because it’s by a certain author, then I think it’s perfectly legitimate to judge that book against that author’s other work, and to hold it to a slightly different standard (than if it had been written by a different author). I mean, he got my money from that book because it's him - so doesn't it make sense to judge it differently based on the fact that it's him?

What do you think?

(Let me throw an extra little tidbit in here, so that I don’t seem like a complete jerk: John Green is still amongst the highest caliber of living authors. His follow-up to Grayson – The Fault in Our Stars – was back to being more typical, amazing John Green. And I’ve already pre-ordered his next book, Turtles All the Way Down, due out in October. So I certainly didn’t let Grayson leave me with a bad taste in my mouth.)

REVIEW: The Devotion of Suspect X - Keigo Higashino

• Year first released:  2005 (Japanese), 2011 (English)
• ISBN of the version I read:  978-1250002693
• Publisher of the version I read:  Minotaur Books
• My rating (out of 5):  2

The most important thing I can think to say about The Devotion of Suspect X is that it did a couple things very right and a couple things…well: not so right, to put it kindly.

Devotion is, essentially, a mind game between two equally brilliant men: the genius physics professor Yukawa, who occasionally helps his police-detective friend solve some of the trickier murder cases in the precinct; and math teacher Ishigami, an intimidating mastermind who seems to have missed his mark in life and is now, somehow, at the heart of a murder investigation.

Unlike most other mystery/crime novels, Devotion actually begins by showing us the murder, telling us exactly who did it and how it was done. The mystery at hand for us readers, then, is in the elaborate plot created by Ishigami to cover up the crime. It’s an unconventional approach for the genre, and a wonderful change-up. As the book progresses and every new lead or clue is discovered, each step of the way we wonder, Is Ishigami’s plan falling through the cracks, or is this, too, part of his master setup?

His plan, by the way, was truly clever. Just how far it goes is not something I will comment on; frankly, that’s the entire joy of the book. And, as you might surmise, the ending was wholly shocking and mind-blowing. I, at least, wasn’t even in the same galaxy of guessing the answer.

Here, though, is exactly where the book’s biggest problem lies.

Devotion suffers from what I sometimes refer to as the Sixth Sense Effect. Just saying that phrase, I’m sure you can guess exactly what I’m getting at: as the final act plays out in front of us and the whole truth is revealed, we realize we’ve just witnessed the most twisty twist that’s ever twisted in a movie. But in this case, the movie is the ending. The first 97 minutes of the movie are really just a prelude to the final 10. 

Which, unfortunately, makes the first 97 minutes rather dull.

So, too, with Devotion. Yukawa and Ishigami’s back-and-forth, cat-and-mouse game is a genuinely interesting, psychological treat. But every moment in which neither of them is on the page – and even a few moments when they are – I felt as though I was merely biding my time. Yes, the payout is incredible. But now that I know exactly what it is, there’s really no reason to tread this ground again.

That said, if this incredible twist is the most important thing to you and you’re willing to wade through 270 pages of prelude, then Devotion will likely be a delight for you. If you feel, though – as I usually do – that the journey is just as important (or even more important) than the destination, then Devotion might not quite be your thing.

REVIEW: Good Morning, Midnight - Lily Brooks-Dalton

• Year first released:  2016
• ISBN of the version I read:  9780812988192
• Publisher of the version I read:  Random House Publishing Group
• My rating (out of 5): 4

You’ve heard your pessimistic friends say, “I’m not being pessimistic – I’m being realistic.”

That’s cute and all, but if you think about it, here’s what they’re actually saying: “Maybe I’m being negative, but reality is negative.”

…which is still just pessimism, isn’t it?

I wonder: isn’t there a beautiful side to reality, too?

Good Morning, Midnight is not, per se, the most “realistic” book you’ll ever have read. This is not only because of its mildly surreal elements, but also because, considering that it’s a post-apocalyptic book, it is remarkably beautiful, and shies away from everything about itself that you would assume would be dreary or hopeless.

There’s an important distinction to be made here, though: though Midnight may not explore as much of the negative and the ugly of the world as we might expect or envision for such a tale, it deftly focuses on the beautiful side of reality. And isn’t this a form of “realistic?”

Midnight features dual-narratives alternating between an elderly astronomer trapped in an arctic observatory and a team of astronauts en route back to earth from a mission to Jupiter, when life as we know abruptly comes to an end. As usual, though, the actual details of the plot aren’t what’s at stake here. Rather, what we have is an elegant, moving narrative exploring many of the themes that make us human – and, as Brooks-Dalton seems to propose – will still continue to make us human when we’re faced with the veritable end of humanity.

The fantastic cast of characters is relatable, distinguishable, and fluidly covers most of the attitudes you’d expect in an end-of-life scenario. (Except for The Panicker. Yes, in our world there would doubtlessly be panickers, but Brooks-Dalton wisely excludes them from her story. Sometimes there’s no need to point out the obvious.) The two settings give us a rich, imaginative viewpoint for watching these intertwining stories of the final humans unfold brilliantly.

It wouldn't be completely fair of me to gloss over the few missteps in Midnight: the pacing was just a hair slower than I’d have preferred – but it’s a rather short book, and so certainly I never felt that I was wasting time – and I would say the ending could have used just one or two more sentences to really drive home the impact of the final moment. In fact, the overall plot is one in which not much of note really comes to pass. Then again, this is a book about the storytelling more than the story.

What we are left with, then, is a book which positively excels in its form, light years beyond the vast majority of books you see on the shelf at the store. The questions the book answers – and even the questions that it asks but doesn’t answer – make this book well worth your time, giving you glimpses of the beautiful side of the real side of humanity.

Book Title Poems

A few months back, I found this poetry prompt: write a poem using only book titles. (They must be books you own. And it must include pictures, so that we know the books are legit and that you actually own them!)

You might guess: I was highly inspired. There's no way this wasn't going to be awesome.

So then: here are the four "poems" I "wrote" as such:

ONE

I saw a peacock with a fiery tail

On the move

Across the nightingale floor

Looking for Alaska

Under the jaguar sun

TWO

All my friends are dead

The rest of us just live here

We should hang out sometime

THREE

Paradise lost

Down the rabbit hole

The gods lie

FOUR

You are here
Where the wild things are—
A tangled tale,
A heartbreaking work of staggering genius,
A tear and a smile.

Here I am,
Extremely loud and incredibly close,
A dark night’s passing
Where angels fear to tread.

Ah, sweet mystery of life:
   Steps through the mist,
   Difficult loves,
   Small memories,
   The unbearable lightness of being,
   What we talk about when we talk about love.

If you feel too much,
Trespass
Where the heart is.
The heart is not a size.

One day
Time must have a stop.

Never let me go.

REVIEW: Ready Player One - Ernest Cline

• year first released: 2011
• ISBN of the version I read: 9780307887443
• publisher of the version I read: Crown/Archetype
• my rating (out of 5): 3

If you’re interested in reading Ready Player One, the best thing you can do for yourself, first of all, is forget all the hype.

Yes, Ready Player One is a very fun book. Certainly it has the potential to make an amusing, bombastic sci-fi movie. (Generally we can trust Spielberg for this, so I’m going to assume the movie will be worthwhile.)

Is it a great book, though? – no, not especially.

The plot is really just a steroided, nerdfest mix of two tropes you’ve already heard:

1. The world has turned to garbage, so everyone lives inside a mondo virtual reality simulator with limitless possibilities.
2. An eccentric billionaire doesn’t have any heirs, so he sets up an enormous quest: whoever completes the quest first gets the money.

On top of this, Cline’s writing is perfectly average. Nothing about his style – his word choice, sentence structure, use of analogy and metaphor, etc. – is in any way outstanding. There’s nothing, per se, wrong with how he wrote this book. It’s fine. It won’t leave you in awe of his skills as a writer, though.

The biggest selling point to Ready Player One is clearly its overwhelming dose of 80’s nostalgia. If you loved it in the 80’s, you’ll find it in this book.

Or so I’m told.

The problem for me, personally, is that I was born halfway through the 80’s – which means that the nostalgia part of my brain kicks in sometime in the 90’s and, subsequently, only a fraction of the pop culture references that absolutely flood the book resonate with me. Yes, I’ve seen Back to the Future. I’ve played Pac-Man. I know what tabletop RPG’s are. I’m familiar with the original Atari – and am basically aware of its importance in the video game industry – but I’ve never actually put my hands on one.

I suppose if you were born in the 70’s – or just earlier in the 80's than I was – Ready Player One might hit you in all the right warm fuzzies. But for someone like me – born just a bit too late – I think much of the effect is lost.

That said, I don’t want to belittle how entertaining the book is. It’s certainly a fun way to spend a few hours, so long as you are willing to settle for perfectly average writing. The puzzles are entertaining. The minor contradictions are forgivable - though there are many of them. I was sincerely rooting for the main character and his friends. If you're hoping for sci-fi with more "literary value," though, you're better of sticking with Clarke, Heinlein, or Bradbury. 

(Let me point out: If you read my post Books v. Movies, you'll see that this book will probably make a better movie than a book. Frankly, I suspect strongly that this book was always destined to be a movie. I'm definitely going to check it out, when the time comes.)

Books v. Movies

It’s curious to me that, anytime you’re talking to someone about a movie you saw which is based on a book, their reply is inevitably, “Yeah, but the book was better.”

I mean, of course it was. The book is always better.*

Whenever someone says this – “The book was better!” – I interpret this to mean, “I’d like to show off the fact that I read popular books.”

Good for you. I’m glad that you do.

Really though, why is it that the book is always better?

There are, I suspect, a few obvious answers to this question, and also a couple less obvious ones.

For starters, books are much longer than movies. If the director were to actually film every scene just as it is in the book, you’d be looking at an 8-ish hour movie (for approximately a 400-page book). And no one wants to see that. This means LOTS of stuff is going to get cut out. And that scene you think is super awesome in the book? – yep. It’s on the chopping block.

As well, the narrator’s voice goes completely mute when tackling a movie. If your book is in first-person POV, how is the film going to relay that? How can a director express an inner-monologue (without the use of a voice-over, which, let’s call it what it is, should never happen in a movie)? And all those cool philosophies and ideas that the character and/or narrator expresses all throughout? – this is just not how movies are made.

I can still remember the first time I saw the movie The Matrix in the theatre. The Matrix, of course, is not based on a book. As far as we know, it was always and only ever meant to be a sci-fi movie.

And let’s get real: the best scene in the whole movie? –definitely the lobby shooting spree. Amirite?

Can you imagine reading that scene, though?

“Neo cartwheeled to his left as he emptied a full clip into the guard right in front of him, then ran sideways along the wall…”

…psh. Please. How boring is this? Even coming up with that sentence felt lame.

I mean, sure, sometimes a book needs its action scenes because of the way the story progresses. That’s fine. But movies give us so much more to experience all at once. And, especially when we’re talking about heavy action or large set pieces, films are actually much better for these sorts of elements. Some stories all but require the visual element offered by electronic screens.

Really, what all of these things ultimately lead to is this:

The elements that make a book good are, very pointedly, NOT the same elements that make a movie good. They’re different mediums. They have different strengths and different focuses and different ways of relaying stories.

When a director decides to take a book and turn it into a movie, what he has to do is convert the story from one format into another. Some things will be lost in this conversion. Some things will be added. The fact is that, if it’s going to be a solid, effective movie, it has to be different than the book.

So when people complain that “they ruined the book [by turning it into a movie]!” I think they’re sort of missing the bigger picture.

Thoughts?

*This isn’t strictly true. Right off, I can think of at least five examples of movies/shows that are actually better than their books. (I’m sure there are others; these are just the first five that come to mind.):

1. The Hunger Games – This is because of exactly what I was just explaining: the plot relies too heavily on action for it to really work effectively as a book. The world and stories of The Hunger Games basically beg for a strong visual element.
2. The Da Vinci Code – This is largely Dan Brown’s fault. See Content and Form for an explanation why.
3. Thirteen Reasons Why – This is actually NOT at all Jay Asher’s fault. The book was great, and very well-written. The show just gives us so much more of everything that made the book great.
4. The Arrival – The short story (which is actually called Stories of Your Life) was good. The movie just covered more territory, and wrapped up everything in a slightly more cohesive package.
5. The Shawshank Redemption – I would never want to be the one to put down Stephen King. The novella (Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption) is good. The movie just rearranged a few things for the better and gave us a much more satisfying ending. 

REVIEW: The Crossing - Cormac McCarthy

• Year first released: 1994
• ISBN of the version I read: 978-0-679-76084-9
• Publisher of the version I read: Vintage International
• My rating (out of 5): 5

It’s taken me quite awhile now to figure out exactly what I want to say about The Crossing. (I first read it two or three weeks ago.)

On the one hand, the easy thing to say would be that it’s easily my favorite book that I’ve read so far this year. It’s nothing less than sublime in its form. McCarthy has a way with words (and with punctuation, you’ll notice when you pick up one of his books) that is truly unique and awe-inspiring.

This is all well and fine. This is basically what I would say to you if you had asked me for my quick thoughts. It’s a bit too vague, though—and, therefore, rather unbecoming—for what the book really deserves.

It’s important to note, first of all, that The Crossing is an indirect sequel to McCarthy’s 1992 novel All the Pretty Horses. Though the book shares quite a bit of atmosphere—and certainly many of the same themes—there are no character or plot connections that require you to read Pretty Horses first.

If you’ve read Pretty Horses, you’ll have a decent start to understanding McCarthy’s style. What you won’t yet know is that The Crossing surpasses Pretty Horses in every possible way.

The Crossing is certainly a much drearier novel than Pretty Horses. Our hero this time around, Billy Parham, has big ideas, but they don’t stretch too far into the future, and there’s really no indication each step of the way that any of them will work out as he imagines them. Perhaps ironically, this hedonistic bleakness establishes Billy as an incredibly vivid, detailed character who is constantly at odds with the world around him, but in all the right ways. Even when Billy missteps—which he does regularly all throughout—I was left almost wanting him to have made the choices he’s made anyway. His failures are just as intricate and worthwhile as his successes.

There is another particular element worth discussing that struck me as rather unique and worthwhile, if a bit counterintuitive:

Often throughout the book, Billy encounters people who impart various—and sometimes contradictory—philosophies. An example that I’m particularly fond of:

At one point not too far into the book, Billy meets a disillusioned priest. Here is a snippet of the philosophy the priest shares…

What was here to be found was not a thing. Things separate from their stories have no meaning. They are only shapes. Of a certain size and color. A certain weight. When their meaning has become lost to us they no longer have even a name. The story on the other hand can never be lost from its place in the world for it is that place. And that is what was to be found here. The corrido. The tale. And like all corridos it ultimately told one story only, for there is only one to tell.

These shared philosophies aren’t what is so counterintuitive, of course. Many authors employ this manner of dialogue. Rather, what is unique is Billy’s response to such conversations. Perhaps I should say: Billy’s lack of response to them.

After his conversation with the priest ends, Billy goes on his way. And, remarkably—in a move by McCarthy that I would call downright brave—we are never granted a vision into Billy’s mind to see his reaction to this exposition. Does Billy agree with it? Does he accept it? Does he replay it in his head from time to time? We don’t know.

It turns out that we don’t need to know. The ideas have been imparted; the words are already in the air; take them as you will; it is time to move on.

After all, it ultimately told one story only, for there is only one to tell.

And, in the case of The Crossing, that one story is a veritable scripture of American fiction.

(One small disclaimer if you’re going to read The Crossing: Since the majority of the book takes place in Mexico, McCarthy relates most of the dialogue in untranslated Spanish. And why bother translating? Personally, it warmed my heart to read it all. You may want to have a simple Spanish dictionary handy, though, if your Spanish isn’t so hot.)

My Favorite Authors

In addition to highlighting for you all of my favorite books, it seemed worthwhile to spend a few moments on my favorite authors as well. Some of these, you’ll have guessed from my other posts, but certainly not all of them.

No biographies here, just a quick tidbit on what makes these people the best of the best.

Also no Shakespeare here, but that’s a story for another time.

Tell me, friends: Who are some of your favorites, and why?

(Alphabetical by last name)

Rob Bell

Best work: Velvet Elvis

Most known work: Love Wins

I don’t always agree with him, but he has a fantastic way of expressing his ideas. Much of my non-fiction writing is stylistically inspired by him.

Jorge Luis Borges

Best work: Labyrinths

Borges and Calvino are tied for the most influential authors on my own writing, particularly Borges’ short story Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius – seriously: I was completely blown away at the story and the structure of it.

Italo Calvino

Best work: Invisible Cities

Most known work: If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller

(As I just mentioned) Calvino is tied with Borges for being the most influential authors on my own writing. As a fun side note, I also own more books by Calvino than by any other author (and I only have about half of his books so far).

Joseph Campbell

Best work: the Power of Myth

Most known work: the Power of Myth or The Hero with a Thousand Faces

Admittedly it can be a bit difficult to get all the way through some of his books. He's incredibly insightful, though, and has made more connections between world cultures and religions than you or I ever could have on our own.

Umberto Eco

Best work: the Name of the Rose

An incredibly versatile author and thinker. Both his fiction and non-fiction are intricate and worthwhile.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Best work: Self-Reliance, the Divinity School Address, Nature

The genius of all geniuses. And yes, my son was named after him.

Michael Ende

Best work: Momo

Most known work: the Neverending Story

For some reason, I'm drawn to Ende's writings more than I can explain. I've also worked long and hard to collect all of his books available in English. Time/money well spent.

Kahlil Gibran

Best work: the Prophet

I'm not really sure how to effectively sum up Gibran in a tidbit like this. His words and ideas simply stand alone in their beauty and virtue.

John Green

Best work: Paper Towns

Most known work: the Fault in Our Stars

This shouldn’t be too surprising, since he wrote my number one favorite modern fiction book. He’s that rare combo of deeply hilarious and wonderfully insightful.

Aldous Huxley

Best work: Huxley and God

Most known work: Brave New World

Huxley is probably the oddest member of this list: as a writer, I’m actually not generally too wild about his books. They always seem to include some elements that rub me the wrong way. But as a thinker, the man is pure genius. For this reason, I tend to prefer his non-fiction.

C.S. Lewis

Best work: Till We Have Faces

Most known work: tough to say for sure, but possibly the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe or Mere Christianity

I’ve actually read more books by C.S. Lewis (14) than by any other author. What a brilliant, versatile person.

Cormac McCarthy

Best work: the Road

Most known work: All the Pretty Horses or the Road

The newest addition to this list. I’ve only read three of his books so far (The Road, All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing), but the man is a veritable gold mine of ideas and word play.

A.A. Milne

Best work: Winnie-the-Pooh

Milne holds a special place in my heart for being the author who really got me back into reading towards the end of high school, thanks largely to Winnie-the-Pooh. Also, his book Not that it Matters is sheer delight.

Jose Saramago

Best work: the Elephant’s Journey

Most known work: Blindness

Thanks to their sheer density, I can only read about one Saramago book a year - but those few hours out of the year are among the very best I spend reading.

Makoto Shinkai

Best work: 5 Centimeters Per Second

Most known work: Your Name

The only manga author on this list. He only has three manga so far, but every single one of them is absolutely stunning. If you're ever going to read even just one manga in your life, it should be one of his.

Zoran Zivkovic

Best work: Steps Through the Mist

Most known work: no clue - he's not too well known

A somewhat obscure Serbian sci-fi/fantasy author who crafts some of the most clever stories I’ve ever read. 

Historical Accuracy

One of my favorite movies is The Last Samurai. Some people laugh at this now for some reason; it wasn’t really laughable when the movie first came out in 2003. In fact, it was nominated for – and won – a moderately-sized list of awards. I’m not really sure what’s changed.

Anyway.

Several times now, I’ve seen lists online that place The Last Samurai in one of the “Top 10 Most Historically Inaccurate Movies Ever.” I’ve even had a couple people point this out to me in conversations:

Me: One of my favorite movies is The Last Samurai.

Smarmy McGee: Ugh. You know that, like, isn’t accurate at all, right?

Well okay then. Thank you, I guess.

But I don’t go to the movies for a history lesson. Hollywood isn’t my classroom. I go to the movies to be entertained, inspired, mesmerized. But not to learn.

I feel similarly about novels, though there’s an important caveat:

So long as it’s fiction and the author doesn’t give me some sort of Forward or Author’s Note trying to make me believe that it’s anything but fiction, then…why in the world should I care if it’s “accurate”?

When I want to learn history, I’ll pick up a history book or a non-fiction book or research things online (with much, much discretion, of course).

This is not the point of fiction—even historical fiction. That’s why it’s...well: fiction.

Bearing all of this in mind:

I recently read Memoirs of a Geisha. After reading it, I started poking around a bit and discovered that many people are bothered by the book because it isn't "accurate." Well of course it isn't. I suspect they missed the fact that it's...again: fiction.

This brings up an interesting point, though:

Again, after reading this beautiful book, I started researching the topic. Now, I'm not an expert on the topic of Geisha, nor of Kyoto in the time between the two World Wars. But because of this fiction book, I decided to go out of my way to learn something about it. Doesn't that fact make this "inaccurate" book worthwhile? Ends and means, and all that?

(Okay, okay: Yes, it would be a problem if someone tries to write a Victorian novel and has Jane Eyre using a cellphone. Obviously I'm not taking it that extreme. But do I care if the author uses the "correct" name for a kitchen appliance? Does it really matter if the mistress' dress was a color of dye that was readily available at the time? - I really can't imagine why it would.)

What are your thoughts on this?

REVIEW: Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden

• year first released: 1997
• ISBN of the version I read: 0679781587
• publisher of the version I read: Vintage Contemporaries
• my rating (out of 5): 4.5

Though this isn’t a review of the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, I’d like to start by highlighting one comparison between the book and its film counterpart:

The movie is breathtakingly beautiful. Its gorgeous set pieces and majestic use of color paint an incredibly vivid picture of Kyoto in the 30’s and 40’s.

Novels, of course, are just black words on white/cream paper (unless they’re illustrated, which this book is not).

And yet Memoirs of a Geisha the book was no less majestic and colorful than its movie counterpart. It’s rare to find a book that is so vivid in its descriptions without making you want to shoot yourself in the foot while reading it.

This might sound like an odd phrase. What I mean is: when you read a book by Joseph Conrad, you can definitely picture the scenes very well. But Conrad didn’t seem to have enough faith in his descriptions, and so he just…kept going. He wanted to make absolutely sure you could picture his scenes exactly right. And so he described them. And described them. And…

Arthur Golden has no such lack in his confidence as a writer. All throughout Memoirs, he gives you precisely the right amount of description to get your imagination in place, and then deftly moves into…well, everything else that goes into the book.

The plot—the details of which I won’t go into here—moves at a highly empathetic pace. Our heroine, Sayuri, is entirely credible as a person, and we never fail to understand her motives. Whether they’re good or bad, Golden has drawn us into Sayuri’s mind strongly enough that we never question her choices or behaviors.

This point, too, leads me to perhaps the most pleasantly surprising element of Memoirs:

I admit that this may be because I’m a man and wouldn’t actually know any better, but Memoirs boasts the most believable female 1^st-person voice I’ve encountered in fiction – at least in a very long time, if not ever. If this had been marketed as the actual memoir of a geisha, I would have accepted it.

Golden gets us to believe that he knows precisely what he’s talking about and describing regarding the Geisha life of the 30’s and 40’s. Of course, whether or not his interpretations are in any way accurate are another matter entirely – one which I certainly can’t comment on, as I have no personal experience in the matter – but they are distinctly realistic and credible.

Memoirs of a Geisha is one of the best books I’ve read this year. Its minor stumbles – such as a plot which relies just a hair too much on coincidence, and the final chapter which felt more like an unnecessary epilogue than an actual tying-up of the final pieces of the story – do little to take away from the beautiful world and words that Golden has deftly created. Considering how brilliantly Memoirs is written, one wonders why Golden hasn’t put out another book in 20 years now. 

My Favorite Books

It seems appropriate to begin by spending a few minutes on some of my very favorite books.

Necessarily, this list is broken down into categories. People often talk about their favorite books, but whenever someone can identify one singular book as their “most” favorite, I am always suspicious.

I am able to compare a modern, literary fiction book against another. But how do I compare something like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road (a sparse, dreary, post-apocalyptic journey novel) to, say, Winnie-the-Pooh (a light-hearted, adorable children’s fantasy)? Is one of these definitively better than the other? – not that I can see. They’re completely incomparable. “Apples and oranges” and all that.

That said, I’ve broken this down into five categories:

• Modern Fiction (basically, anything fictitious from approximately the 1950’s or so onward)
• Non-Modern Fiction (what we call “classics” fit here, as well as any book that’s older than roughly the 50’s).
• Children’s Books (note that Young Adult books do NOT go here—those go in “Modern Fiction”)
• Narrative Non-Fiction (true stories, such as memoirs and biographies; the narration of certain events or time periods, etc.)
• Non-Narrative Non-Fiction (books that aren’t really meant to be stories, such as essays, spirituality, etc.)

Of course any one of these can be subdivided in a thousand other ways; I’m mostly looking at broad strokes here.

Also, please keep in mind:

This list does NOT go into the “most influential books ever” or anything of the sort. It strictly sticks to the books I enjoy the most. For example: yes, I know that Homer’s Odyssey is absolutely indispensable to literature as we know it. I don’t contest this fact at all. Surely it is one of the most important books we have. I don’t really enjoy it, though—ergo, you won’t see it on this list.

And, finally, I've included links for all of the books to where you can buy them from BarnesandNoble.com - that way you can partake of the same joy in them as I have. :)

Tell me, friends: What are some of your favorites, and why?

So then. Here we go…

Modern Fiction

1. Paper Towns by John Green
2. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safron Foer
3. Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges
4. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
5. Looking for Alaska by John Green
6. Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis
7. The Giver by Lois Lowry
8. Asylum for Nightface by Bruce Brooks
9. Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino
10. Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher

Non-Modern Fiction

1. The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
2. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
3. Dracula by Bram Stoker*
4. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley*
5. Hamlet by William Shakespeare
6. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson*

*(If you'd like to pick up all three of these in one cheap, fell swoop, Signet made that really easy for you here.)

Children’s Books

1. Momo by Michael Ende
2. Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne
3. The House at Pooh Corner by A.A. Milne
4. A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness
5. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
6. Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll
7. The Little Prince by Antoine de St. Exupery
8. Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

Narrative Non-Fiction

1. The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
2. The Bhagavad Gita (I mostly read the Prabhavananda/Isherwood translation)
3. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
4. Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
5. Seven Years in Tibet by Heinrich Harrer

Non-Narrative Non-Fiction

1. the writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson*
2. Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu (I mostly read the Charles Muller translation)*
3. Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell
4. Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller
5. Notes to Myself by Hugh Prather

*(Considering that these two books are #’s 1 and 2 on this list, The Tao of Emerson – compiled by Richard Grossman – is an absolute gem of a book, though it should not be considered a replacement for the two books themselves.)