9
Nov
2010
28
Sep
2010
6
Aug
2010
15
Jul
2010
14
Jul
2010
3
Jun
2010
Epileptic by David B.
I don’t often talk explicitly about the art when reviewing graphic novels. To me, the art is usually secondary to the story (and the writing thereof). But the art in David B.’s Epileptic blew my mind.
29
Apr
2010
12
Jan
2010
The Harvard Psychedelic Club by Don Lattin
I had a few problems with what was otherwise and interesting, edifying read.
3
Dec
2009
1
Dec
2009
The Portable Jung by CG Jung, ed. by Joseph Campbell
Of course, with the drive towards ereaders, the portability of a book might not be of consequence, but it’s fun to carry around a book of Jung’s writing like he’s your own personal guru. Somebody tells you about an encounter or a dream or a movie, and you can say, hang on, let me consult with my colleague Herr Dr. Jung.
Wow. This volume of The Sandman is so full of awesomeness. It has got to me my favorite of the series so far.
The last thing Eliza wants is to hear from the man that kidnapped her for a week when she was a teenager. But that’s exactly what happens when Walter sees her picture in a magazine (because, you know, he’d know her anywhere) and decides to contact her from death row.
I really wanted to love this book, but it’s over-narration killed it for me. Never in recent memory has it taken me so long to get through a book so short (just over 200 pages).
Azadeh Moaveni published this book slightly too early. It came out last year before the riots over the election in Iran. Thus I assume this sequel to
This book is riveting. For reals. In fact, the pace could have been slowed down a bit, particularly the last few chapters. But as it was, I found myself totally engrossed.
I really enjoyed this book. Falling somewhere in the space between literary fiction and chick lit, it had the direction of the one genre and the emotion of the other.
Oh books that have no real ending, why do you exist? Is it just to taunt and frustrate me? Did you, Saul Bellow, predict that I would read this, writing it as you did 30 years before my birth, and leave a stupid, jaded ending to what otherwise might have been just an O.K. novella?