Alone and Unobserved

I’ve actually started reading books again, which hopefully means that my attention span has returned to more normal levels. Here is what I’ve devoured over the past two or three weeks:

Fiction Titles

Stardust (the graphic novel), written by Neil Gaiman and illustrated by Charles Vess

When I picked this up, I was afraid it would be an adapted version, with lots of pictures and less story. Fortunately, the full text of the book is included, with no pesky word bubbles or eye-roll-inducing onomatopoeia; unfortunately, the illustrations, while not intrusive as such, are not the best.

Verdict: Highly recommended, but the (non-illustrated) novel is just as good.

Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman

To be honest, I haven’t finished this short-story collection yet. I’m more than halfway through, though, and what I have read has been stunning. Gaiman is brilliant, and does not disappoint (at least so far).

No verdict yet.

Fables (vols I, II, III & IV), by Bill Willingham

I was skeptical about this series. The premise (“Characters from classic fairy tales live in secret in New York”) seemed beyond cheesy, and besides, hadn’t Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling already done that kind of thing with their Snow White, Rose Red books?

Now I’m a believer. Willingham has worked true magic in this tale of exiled fables on the run from the dreaded Adversary. Who knew the Big, Bad Wolf had been nursing a secret passion for Snow White all these years?

Verdict: Highly recommended.

Nonfiction Titles

Stiff, by Mary Roach

I have immense admiration of Ms. Roach. This is a woman who, with a lot of determination, an iron stomach and a boundless lack of tact, managed to obtain invitations into the bowels, yea, the pulsating inward parts, of the cadaver-assisted R&D underworld. Here we learn all about putrefaction, “gloving,” eye caps, ballistic gelatin, burking, crucifixion, Chinese cannibalism and more, in a genuinely entertaining and engaging style. If that sounds like a contradiction in terms, read Stiff and find out for yourself what gagging and laughing at the same time feels like.

Verdict: A highly readable exercise in black humor. Anti-nausea medication may be required.

Refuse to Choose, by Barbara Sher

I once performed the first movement of Mozart’s Sonata “facile” per pianoforte as a musical number in a public meeting. Afterwards, I remarked to an acquaintance that I (like Elizabeth Bennett) wasn’t very good at the piano because I simply didn’t spend much time practicing. My acquaintance was astonished and horrified. “If I had your talent for the piano,” he declared, “I would be do nothing but practice.” “That’s easy for you to say,” I replied. “But what if you also liked singing and dancing and writing and mathematics and languages and a hundred other things besides? Why would you necessarily concentrate on piano, especially when it’s the hardest of all of your talents to master?”

I am very sad to say that I don’t play the piano anymore–now that I’m no longer at BYU, College of the Thousand Pianos, it is no longer quite as convenient–but I still struggle to balance all of my interests and hobbies and responsibilities. That is what this book is about: refusing to specialize, allowing oneself to be interesting in a hundred and one different things and learning techniques for living a happy, well-adjusted life while doing everything you want. I have to say, though, that even though it gives some good advice about living a Renaissance-style existence, it feels somewhat padded. Edit, people. Edit!

Verdict: Has some interesting suggestions, but probably not worth buying.

Mindless Eating, by Brian Wansink, Ph.D.

Maybe it was because I was reading it for the tips, but this book also felt padded. Each chapter is filled with colorful anecdotes about Candid-Camera-style food studies Wansink and his colleagues have perpetrated on unsuspecting participants, but the actual advice is sparse and often seems culled from other sources.

Verdict: Read it, by all means, but get it from your local library.