In The Outlaw Album, Daniel Woodrell paints scenes of desperation that drive his characters to the brink of madness. A collection of short stories, this book provides glimpses of men and women at their most trying hour, exploring the depths of one’s despair. Each story takes on a new cast, but they all reveal the darker side of human nature.

The cover art is beautiful, and absolutely fits the book. The painting is called An April Mood and is by Charles E. Burchfield. I love how jagged is is, yet how fluid at the same time (I’m no art critic, but you get what I’m saying). The jacket itself, which has great balance, was designed by Ploy Siripant. The title is a bit misleading, though. It may be due to pop culture, but the word “outlaw” is, most notably, associated with the Wild West. Woodrell’s stories do take place in seemingly isolated areas, but not the West that belongs to Clint Eastwood. Actually, I found it very difficult to find a geographical or chronological anchor while reading these stories, and this may or may not have had some influence on that.

Although I didn’t feel quite… invested in the book, Woodrell’s writing is superb. He is able to create scenarios that might, in other words, be reprehensible, but the way they are written they are simply reflections of the deepest, darkest moments of human nature. This writing is what kept me reading the book, because I honestly didn’t have much of an emotional connection to the characters. In fact, I rather disliked nearly all of the characters throughout the book. But is it their fault? I don’t think so, because I don’t think anyone would (or should, for that matter) like me when feeling the same emotions that these characters struggle with. Despite this, Woodrell’s fantastic style made the book worth reading.

Throughout the collection, there was one story that really caught my attention. This is one of the few that I connected to emotionally, and it still crosses my mind from time to time. Called “Florianne,” it tells the story of a man whose daughter was kidnapped. His anguish is heightened by the fact that he doesn’t know who took her. Naturally, he suspects everyone:

If they ever catch who took my daughter, I’ll probably know him [...] I suspect everybody around here and nobody special [...] Sometimes I’ll be at the cash register and catch somebody looking at me in a sort of funny way, at such a slant as to appear sneaky, or with lips curled too high on one end, and think, Is that him? Is he watching me sack groceries and gloating? Does that shifty glance say I fucked your daughter, Henry, from every which angle that felt good to me, then choked the light from her pretty eyes and put her…Should I grab him now while he’s handy and beat on him till he tells me where I can rake her bones together? (p. 39-41)

Woodrell, also the author of Winter’s Bone, has created a collection of stories that peek into the lives of people who are, in one way or another, suffering. Their desperation for relief from their pain is tangible, and it will certainly stick with you even if you don’t feel a strong connection to the characters.

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

This read-a-long is hosted by Wallace at Unputdownables.

I wish that I could say that my enthusiasm for this book has remained intact, but it’s honestly getting pretty boring. My version is a bit different from the one that other members of the read-a-long are using, so I haven’t yet gotten to the chapter about Fitzgerald that we’ve all been looking forward to (largely due, I think, to the fact that we read The Great Gatsby last month). On the bright side, this gives me something to anticipate in next week’s reading!

Instead of getting too involved in my analysis, as there isn’t much to analyze, I’m going to leave you with a quote from page 107. Interestingly, Hemingway penned a verse that perfectly reflects my feelings about the book at this point:

I did not understand them but they did not have any mystery, and when I understood them they meant nothing to me. I was sorry about this but there was nothing I could do about it.

Lucky Brand jeans, Junk Food Clothing vintage tee, and Nike sneakers

]]> http://treesandink.wordpress.com/2012/02/16/fashionable-fiction-stephanie-plum-in-the-21st-century/feed/ 4 adw06c Stephanie Plum http://treesandink.wordpress.com/2012/02/14/much-ado-about-loving-a-guide-to-love-via-the-classics/ http://treesandink.wordpress.com/2012/02/14/much-ado-about-loving-a-guide-to-love-via-the-classics/#comments Tue, 14 Feb 2012 13:45:34 +0000 Ashley http://treesandink.wordpress.com/?p=1331 Continue reading →]]>

One of the things that makes a classic a classic is its ability to present ideas that transcend time. A highly popular theme among classics (and, arguably, novels in general) is love. For hundreds of years, novelists have opened their hearts to readers, teaching them how to fall in love, who not to fall in love with, and a myriad of other lessons that we as readers and, some of us, hopeless lovers of romance, need to keep soldiering on in the name of love. Despite heartbreak, heartache, and the perils of the dating scene, these books teach us to keep our chins up and our eyes focused on potential suitors.

Although love is a common theme amongst classics, Jack Murnigham and Maura Kelly are the first to look at the classical canon as a whole. While Jane Austen may present interesting ideas about marriage, Murnighan and Kelly have added another dimension to her ideas by presenting them with important lessons from Tolstoy, Plath, Dickens, Faulkner, the Brontës, Fitzgerald, and more. With a cleverness rivaled only by Cupid himself, Murnighan and Kelly have put together an anthology of romance that traces the fundamental characteristics of successful, and not so successful, relationships since the classic novel was born.

Cover and Title: The title, just like all of the chapter headings, is catchy, smart, and clever. It sets the tone not only for the content of the book, but for the fun style in which it is written. At first I didn’t like the cover, but after looking at it more closely I have realized that it integrates the texture of old covers into the background. Though the contrast between the blue and red isn’t my favorite, I love mix of old and new textures, as well as the font.

Writing: Murnighan and Kelly have great writing styles. They are clever and smart without seeming haughty. The only issue I had is that their writing styles are very similar, so sometimes it was easy to forget who was writing a certain chapter; however, each chapter indicates who wrote it, so this is really a non-issue.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I first opened this book. To be honest, I was a little worried that it would be a simple, boring rundown of different romantic scenarios as presented by the classic cannon. Luckily, my expectations were completely wrong. Not only did Murnighan and Kelly have me literally laughing out loud, they enabled me to look at my own life and my own relationships from a new perspective. While I’m in a healthy, committed relationship now, I was able to understand a bit more why past experiences have not been so successful.

In addition to providing a great bit of entertainment, offering a new angle from which to look at my love life, and getting me out of a reading slump, Much Ado About Loving rekindled my interest in a few classics that I have been putting off (read: it actually makes me want to take on War and Peace). I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a lighthearted read that is solidly anchored in some of the most valuable lessons the classics have to offer.

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

This week’s reading, though it seemed to be more interesting to everyone else, was kind of flat for me. I did enjoy it, and it went by quickly enough, but it didn’t concentrate as much on Hemingway’s writing, on his process. I think that’s what I enjoyed so much about the first leg of the read-a-long. That being said, there are several interesting details to note this week.

First, I’d like to address the idea that Hemingway is a misogynist and, to a point, refute it. Yes, he certainly is a “man’s man” who is brash and straightforward, but he isn’t a man who hates or undervalues women (according to his romantic history, he may like them all too well). In the story called “A False Spring,” Hadley calls attention to the fact that Hemingway and his friends treat her with more respect than Gertrude Stein: “When you and Chink talked I was included. It wasn’t like being a wife at Miss Stein’s” (p. 54). Yes, Hadley’s character is ridiculously simple in this story (I’m tempted to say that maybe she was just… dull? That could be the devil’s advocate coming out in me, though) but I don’t think that Hemingway is ever offensive. At least I don’t take it that way. In fact, he records Hadley as saying a pretty profound line on pages 56 and 57:

Standing there I wondered how much of what we had felt on the bridge was just hunger. I asked my wife and she said, ‘I don’t know, Tatie. There are so many sorts of hunger. In the spring there are more. But that’s gone now. Memory is hunger.’

I’d like to point out that, while Hemingway does portray women in a shallow manner, they aren’t his focus. Even in his marriage, his wife doesn’t seem to be his priority. Writing, exploring, networking, drinking, these seem to be of higher importance to him. Right or wrong, at this point in the reading, I think Hemingway is less a misogynist and more a man who’s priorities with regard to women end with sex and basic companionship.

I also really like the following line, which appears on page 62:

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

This reminds me of a line from one of my favorite songs by Ima Robot, called Cool Cool Universe, which goes like this: “But no good time goes unmourned/No good heart goes untorn/Good or bad it’s all sad/And my acceptance is born.” Just for fun, here’s a link to the song. I think there’s a poignancy to the idea that even good things can carry a feeling of emptiness, and that this emptiness can affect other parts of our lives. I actually just read a book that is based on this idea, called The Underside of Joy, that some of you might find interesting if you are intrigued by this concept.

The last thing I want to note is a quote on page 81, which reads: “He was a good companion until he drank too much and, at that time, when he was lying, he was more interesting than many men telling a story truly.” This line echos a line from my favorite book of all time, A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz.

So how to begin to recount our hideous odyssey? Keep it simple, Jasper. Remember, people are satisfied– no, thrilled– by the simplification of complex events. And besides, mine’s a damn good story and it’s true. I don’t know why, but that seems to be important to people. Personally, if someone said to me, ‘I’ve got this great story to tell you, and every word is an absolute lie!’ I’d be on the edge of my seat.

The idea that lies are more interesting than truth makes me reconsider the historical accuracy with which Hemingway recorded these events. Of course, I want to think that he was as true to history as possible; however, there is no such thing as a reliable narrator when it comes to memoirs. Everyone has an opinion, and Hemingway’s memoir is chock full of them. Several of my read-a-long cohorts seem convinced that these stories are exaggerated or otherwise downright false and, given this line, I am tempted to agree with them (to a point).

I hope that next week’s reading is a bit more engaging, but this week’s pages did reveal a bit of Hemingway’s sarcastic humor. I leave you all with a quote from page 93 that made me laugh out loud, probably because I would have thought something similar:

‘Suppose once it had come like an irresistible torrent and then it left you mute and silent.’

Better than mute and noisy, I thought, and went on writing.

The Underside of Joy tells the story of Ella Beene, whose husband unexpectedly dies, leaving her with his two children. She sees these children as her own and, because that her husband insisted their mother abandoned them, she is caught by surprise when Paige fights for custody. The only mother the children have really known, Ella begins a battle for her kids, for her husband’s family, and for any threads of her past life that are left. Halverson puts these characters into oftentimes infuriating situations, but somehow the underside of joy becomes less a scary, unknown part of life and more a natural undercurrent that buoys the best experiences life has to offer.

Cover and Title: The cover is breathtaking–literally. I gasped when I pulled it out of its manilla folder. Monica Benalcazar, the jacket designer, did a phenomenal job. The title is also perfect, as it not only highlights one of the main themes of the book, but it considers sorrow in a completely new way.

Plot and Writing: The story is well-paced and moves nicely, but be warned that it is a sad book. Unless you are completely comfortable crying in public, I don’t recommend taking this to read while grabbing a quick lunch or relaxing in the park. Halverson is able to cut to the core of emotion as if her pen were a scalpel, literally pulling feelings from readers without giving them a choice. Part of this, I think, is due to the nature of the story. Certainly a sad novel, it deals with loss in an honest, striking way. But this emotional power is also due to the writing itself. Halverson is undoubtedly talented, and her descriptions focus on the strongest details in each scene. The writing is elaborate, but not in a complex kind of way; whereas other writers may use long, convoluted sentences to achieve complexity in their stories, Halverson simply represents the strongest, most basic emotions in captivating ways.

Characters: The fact that I felt so emotionally connected to the story came as a great surprise, as I did not feel that kind of connection with the protagonist, Ella Beene. In fact, I quite disliked Ella. She doesn’t seem to exist beyond her role as mother and wife, and when her husband dies that seems to come crashing down. Over the course of the story she delves into new projects, but even those are based on her husband’s life and not necessarily her own interests. As a fiercely independent person, I just couldn’t understand how Ella had allowed herself to become so dependent on her husband. Her whole identity seems wrapped up in him, and it turns out that she didn’t know him as well as she thought. Despite this, Halverson was able to pull me into the story and I really cared about what happened to these characters.

I love that Halverson has made the children, Annie and Zach, central characters. They don’t stand in the background, watching the adults cope with the tragedy of their father’s death. They are front and center, and Ella has to help them get through their grief after they finally understand that their father isn’t coming back. Death, as a theme, is present on every page, and I think this book does a great job of showing not only a child’s reaction to loss, but how much of an effect their reaction can have on their parents.

The Underside of Joy is a beautifully written novel that truly captures the heart. Not only does Halverson write about love and loss, she illustrates how the tragedies that we face can mold our lives and, despite all odds, make our happy experiences that much happier.

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

A guest post by Kate Parnell

More so than any other novel I’ve ever read, The Magicians toes the line between “fantasy” and “literary fiction,” a controversial yet pervasive dichotomy. Like the trapeze artists in Cirque du Soleil, Lev Grossman creates a tangible tension that permeates each and every page. The book is brilliant. It’s incredibly dark without ever being desolate. It’s funny without being slapstick or hokey. It’s creepy but it’s not trying to be Wes Craven-y. It’s fast paced but never leaves the reader behind.  In short, the novel is more than capable and competent. Grossman wields literary devices the way Botticelli wielded chiaroscuro; like a master.

I will say though, as blown away by the novel as I am, as ready to build a shrine at Grossman’s feet as I am, I really don’t want to over hype the book. Did you read Harry Potter and fixate on the fact that, at thirteen, none of the boys were having dirty thoughts? That was weird, right? Did you hate the movies? Did you read Narnia and think, while the general stuff was good, it was too good to be true and who really needs a Lion-Jesus telling you what to do anyway? Did you read Lord of the Rings and love it, but wonder why Tolkien had to spend four chapters describing a second cousin of Aragorn’s leaf brooch? If you answered yes to any of these questions then you may love this novel. If not, pick it up and see for yourself.

Characters: The problem with most older fantasy novels is that the protagonist is the Herculean type hero, except not as fun as Kevin Sorbo and infinitely more irritating with the “Why was I chosen?” crap. The problem with most modern fantasy novels is the protagonist is the Bruce Wayne type anti-hero with all the, “I’m not worthy for anyone” crap.

Our protagonist is Quentin Coldwater. Sometimes you like him, sometimes you hate him; sometimes he’s awesome and sometimes he’s a douche bag. But at least you know him. He’s someone you would go to school with or hang out with, maybe he’s even just like your best friend. The secondary characters are all different, real, multidimensional people and Grossman hints many a time that this is not Quentin’s story so much as a story from Quentin’s perspective. They have their own lives and are only minutely affected by Quentin. The actual hero of the book is Alice, who ends up being a perfect Greek hero, right to the end of the novel.

Cover: Solid cover art, somber, simple, a little moody, thought-provoking, piqued my curiosity.

Plot: This is a novel you won’t willingly put down once you’ve started it. The plot is fast and forgives no Twilight-level reader. So, if that’s your game; don’t play. The best part is, Grossman blows through Q’s before school, during school and post school years with ease.

All in all, I just want everyone to read this book so we can all talk about it together. That’s fair, right?

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

Kate Parnell, Trees and Ink Contributor

]]> http://treesandink.wordpress.com/2012/02/07/the-magicians-expertly-crafted-nostalgia/feed/ 7 adw06c The Magicians 28349_10100241695532063_5256812_60833452_6961089_n http://treesandink.wordpress.com/2012/02/03/a-moveable-feast-read-a-long-week-1/ http://treesandink.wordpress.com/2012/02/03/a-moveable-feast-read-a-long-week-1/#comments Fri, 03 Feb 2012 14:26:03 +0000 Ashley http://treesandink.wordpress.com/?p=1292 Continue reading →]]>

This post contains spoilers.

To say that I have read A Moveable Feast before would be cheating. Yes, I have “read” it, but it was so long ago (8th grade, maybe? Not sure…) that I honestly remember nothing. Since first experiencing the novel I’ve not only grown personally and as a reader, I have taken a class on Hemingway. I’m excited to read this book with this new perspective and encourage anyone interested to read along! The last read-a-long I participated in, which was also hosted by Wallace at Unputdownables, was fantastic.

So, on to the story. A Moveable Feast is a memoir of Hemingway’s time spent as an expat in Paris with his first wife, Hadley. In the first 50 pages or so, we see Hemingway working on one of his most famous short stories, “Up In Michigan.” He shows the story to his new friend, Gertrude Stein, who doesn’t like it (but Hemingway doesn’t take this to heart, because Gertrude doesn’t seem to like much of anything that other writers do). Hemingway also discovers the famous book store, Shakespeare & Company, where he meets Sylvia Beach and starts borrowing books.

Above all else, we see Hemingway work. I was quite surprised to find that he rented a separate hotel room to write in, instead of working from his home. I was also impressed by his discipline. To Hemingway, writing was a steady job, one that required his attention until he was done for the day. Once done, though, he did not allow himself to think of his work until he returned to the hotel room the following morning.

The first thing that really struck me was Hemingway’s comparison of his own work to the artwork of the Impressionists. One of the most famous Hemingway quotes is this, in which he describes his method of combating writer’s block:

I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, ‘Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.’ (p. 12)

Despite parts of this quote being engraved on signs and embroidered into pillows, Hemingway doesn’t stand by this advice. In fact, he learns that there is more to writing than simply recording truth. He talks about this when discussing his visits to the Musée du Luxembourg to see the work of Cézanne, Manet, and Monet.

I was learning something from the painting of Cézanne that made writing simple true sentences far from enough to make the stories have  the dimensions that I was trying to put in them. I was learning very much from him but I was not articulate enough to explain it to anyone. Besides it was a secret. (p. 13)

Although I never made this connection before, the influence of the Impressionists on Hemingway is actually quite obvious. His sentences are simple and he never uses more words than necessary. Somehow, though, he creates the dimension he refers to in the quote above. By layering one simple sentence upon another, he is able to create the same kind of depth that Cézanne, Manet, and Monet created on canvas. Here is an example of a Cézanne painting. This is called “The Forest”:

Here’s another example, this one by Monet. It’s actually on display at our local art museum and I saw it in person–it’s gorgeous.

If you love your embroidered pillows and engraved signs that bear the wisdom of Hemingway, don’t be too upset by the undoing of his most famous piece of advice. When writing, as disciplined and scheduled as he may seem, Hemingway’s relationship with his craft seems to be constantly changing. One passage that depicts this is of particular interest, as it brings to attention the interaction of authors with beauty:

The story was writing itself and I was having a hard time keeping up with it. I ordered another rum St. James and I watched the girl whenever I looked up [...] I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

Then I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it. I was writing it now and it was not writing itself and I did not look up nor know anything about the time nor think where I was nor order any more rum St. James. (p. 6)

I was immediately struck by the change in Hemingway’s relationship with the story he is writing. At the beginning of the passage, he is holding on for dear life, trying to keep the story going. By the end, he is in full control of the story, focused completely on his task. What changed? The only content of importance notes how he feels about beauty–that writers (and, I would argue, artists as well) own beauty in the same way that they own their experiences. While I don’t think that this has a direct effect on Hemingway’s actual writing method, I do think it’s important to note. Hemingway, it would seem, felt a sense of ownership over every experience, every memory, and every observation. All of it though, his talent and his life included, “belong to this notebook and this pencil.”

Lastly, I want to comment on the chapter called, “Une Génération Perdue,” or “The Lost Generation” (having some French under my belt is certainly proving useful). Hemingway is said to be a symbol of The Lost Generation, the generation that fought in World World I only to have their illusions about life, love, and, basically, the world crumble around them. This is a generation characterized by upended moral values and the realization that love isn’t really all you need (thank God the Beatles didn’t hear about this). These themes are seen woven throughout Hemingway’s work, and I’m interested to see how they were a part of his real life.

This post contains spoilers.

We have finished The Great Gatsby and my reread of this classic has only further solidified its place as one of my favorite books. Fitz is a master, and the finesse with which he writes shines on each and every page. Aside from breathtaking writing, the book offers a shrewd and surprisingly progressive commentary on life, society, and the culture of the Roaring Twenties.

Basically, everything falls apart in the last fifty pages of the book. Daisy can’t stand up for herself or for Gatsby, causing a major fight within the party. While speeding back to East Egg after leaving the hotel, Daisy and Gatsby hit Myrtle, who thinks they are Tom because he had been driving Gatsby’s car earlier. They don’t stop and, as it turns out, Daisy is the one driving. Tom, Nick, and Jordan, who are following them, stop and discover that Myrtle is dead. Wilson, Myrtle’s wife, natural seeks revenge and tracks down Gatsby’s car, thanks to Tom. A murder/suicide later, Gatsby’s gone. Daisy and Tom regroup and get out of town. As Nick puts it:

They were careless people, Tom and Daisy–they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made…. (p. 188).

Many of the other readers participating in the read-a-long dislike Gatsby, and I understand where they are coming from, but I still love him. There is something so romantic about his dogged attempts to win Daisy and fit into the box that he believes the world expects him to. He stands both outside and within the persona he has created, disillusioned in that he knows that his persona is a hoax, but believing in it all the same. He is a truly heartbreaking character, one who is a victim of his own ambition.

He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night (p. 189).

Gatsby is an illusion–his very character is an image that Nick has projected through his story. It is fitting, then, that Nick is the one to tell us about Gatsby’s death. Interestingly, Fitz doesn’t show his death, like he did Myrtle’s. In fact, it is never announced that Wilson kills Gatsby and then takes his own life; it is implied through the thoughts that Nick himself considers Gatsby may have had and the subsequent discovery of Wilson’s body at the scene of the crime:

I have an idea that Gatsby himself didn’t believe it [an expected phone call] would come and perhaps he no longer cared. If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamililar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor hosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about…like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees (p. 169).

The last line of the book is poignant, heartbreaking, and yet somehow full of hope. It encompasses the movement of the novel and the future of the characters. Above all else, it is a beautifully written line:

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past (p. 189).

In All Her Father’s Guns, James Warner creates a fast-paced story packed with theory, business, politics, questions of morality, second amendment rights, attempted (but botched) terrorism, abortion, and even an exorcism. Had any other author tried to concoct a book encompassing these various themes they may very well have created a mess of a publication, but Warner presents a well-written and entertaining story.

All Her Father’s Guns is told from the perspectives of Cal and Reid. Cal is a second amendment advocate who has as many guns as Carrie Bradshaw has stilettos. Reid is dating Cal’s daughter, Lyllyan. Her mother Tabytha, Cal’s ex-wife, is running for Congress and Cal will do nearly anything to keep her from getting elected. She needs cash, though, and pursues equally questionable tactics to squeeze more alimony out of her venture capitalist ex. Meanwhile, Reid is an academic who studies in the constantly diminishing Department of Theory. Once he loses his job, he is thrown in to the business world and must learn Cal’s ways as he tries to adjust to his new life.

Cover and Title: The title is great. Cal really does pull out all the stops (er… Glocks) to keep his daughter safe and happy. The cover is very well designed and looks great on my shelf, but it seems a bit too modern for the story. Cal lives in a type of commune in the desert and , though he’s a businessman, he doesn’t have the super slick image that the cover portrays.

Plot: The story moves at a great pace, though perhaps a little too quickly during some scenes. The way that it unfolds is engaging and I was certainly never bored, but there were a couple of points where I was taken aback by how the plot unfolded. Although these scenes were a bit abrupt, not to mention completely out of left field, they work with the narrative that Warner has created. Instead of interfering with the plot, these scenes magnified it, giving it the character that sets this story apart.

Characterization: The description of Cal was, in the beginning, a little overboard in its references to guns and the second amendment. I’m not sure if this calmed down throughout the story or if I just got used to Cal’s character, but it works in the end. Reid’s characterization is a bit more understated and the average reader will be able to relate to him a bit easier than to Cal. However, Lyllyan and Tabytha are underdeveloped, serving more as supporting characters. Although this works well from an entertainment point of view, I would have loved to see some more development in terms of the women’s ideas about the larger issues considered by the story.

The juxtaposition of Cal and Reid is interesting, as they approach life from two very different perspectives. Over the course of the book they each seem to adopt one another’s characteristics, moving from completely polarized worldviews to a more moderate understanding of one another.

Larger Issues: Warner’s story touches on many controversial issues, abortion and second amendment rights being the most sensitive. While the book brings these issues up, it doesn’t present a very strong case for or against them. The abortion issue, specifically, could have been presented in a more well-rounded way. Having the female characters weigh in on this topic as well as the men would have provided for a more interesting discussion.

I was also interested in the way that theory is presented in the novel. The Department of Theory is being deconstructed as the story progresses, and Reid learns a great deal that he never knew before once he breaks out of academia and enters the world of business. However, even though I studied both philosophy and psychology in college, I didn’t understand all of the theoretical references that were used. Had I been able to understand these references, I may have had a more profound reading of the story.

Overall, this is a very well written and highly entertaining novel. Warner has created a quirky story comments on the political and moral landscape of modern America.

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.