Reading Recap: June '25

The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem

A problem I face with books I don't like is justifying their flaws as "stylistic." The pacing felt weird, but isn't that because Dylan admitted his childhood consumed everything that came after? It was derivative of Kavalier and Clay's Brooklyn comic book utopia and Toni Morrison's blend of metaphor and fantasy, but that's unfair to the book. Nothing is original.

    I think at a certain point, I have to admit that it didn't work for me, but I still appreciate what it's trying to do. My actual criticism is how clunky a lot of the sentences are. I caught upwards of a dozen typos and grammatical errors, and that's just sloppy. The alternating sidesteps and acknowledgements of racism and stereotypes seemed odd until I realized how much of the book is autobiographical. That doesn't fix all of the book's issues, but it explains some of the strange stances it takes and the weirdness he acquired (or had to already have) during his time at Bennington. Lethem is sharing his own childhood, so of course it's going to be biased and vague. Even if he hates where he came from, he can't stop loving it. / ★★

 

Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews

This is a hard book to write a blurb for because I liked it so much. I let it wash over me instead of picking at its loose threads like I do when books bore me. To be honest, it took a while for me to get used to the writing style. It felt juvenile and simplistic, but once I was engaged in the story, it all fell into place. It certainly helped that I know so many people who love V.C. Andrews and trusted their judgement enough to power through my uncertainty.

    Where a lot of people get hung up is that there are no absolutes. Are Cathy and Chris good for each other? Obviously not, but also yes, they are. They temper each other's personalities and have spent too much time in each other's pockets to ever have normal relationships. They're like those trees that grow around telephone wires—they grew around and into each other. Within a week after finishing it, I bought copies of the series with original covers, so it's obvious that V.C. Andrews is here to stay. We'll see what happens next. / ★★★★★

 

Blood and Guts in High School by Kathy Acker

I never finished writing a review for Delphine Lecompte's Kittens in the Boiler, and I'm sort of glad about that because Blood and Guts provides some much needed context. Both authors use experimental techniques to tell the story of a self-destructive teenage girl, but Lecompte fails to replicate Acker's sincerity. Every line is personal, even while she's mocking her work as soon as it's written. Most fiction hands the audience the story and tells them to read it. Acker wrote a story, and now the audience has to interpret it for themselves. That kind of participation means that the novel won't work for you if you don't try to get something out of it. It's hard to say if I would've liked this more in high school because it probably would have been too far out of my comfort zone. I should come back to it when I'm feeling out of touch with the world. / ★★★½

 

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

I liked this a lot more than Choke, but I can also tell that this was his first novel. While the writing style is creative and jarring for those used to "traditional" novels, it's not as extreme as his later works. It eases you into Palahnuik's style. The first thing that stood out to me when comparing it to the movie is how much grosser the book is. The hole in the side of his cheek never heals, teeth get spat out regularly, and the Narrator bites clean through his tongue. I think it furthers Palahnuik's goal of satirizing the subject where the movie's glamour (and Brad Pitt-ness) led the audience to idealize violence. Fight clubs have always appealed to me, but that's less about glamorization and the masculine ideal than the idea of getting the shit beaten out of you in a semi-controlled environment. Just because I recognize that the book doesn't condone them doesn't mean I don't want to join one. / ★★★½

 

Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris

I don't have much to say about Dress Your Family because of how quickly I read it. There isn't supposed to be an overarching story, just a series of anecdotes from Sedaris' life, except for how there is. The entire book revolves around the idea of belonging and finding your place in the world. Sedaris doesn't try to make him, or his family, seem more likable than they are. They mess up, say the wrong thing, and somehow all end up in a life that makes them happy. Sedaris and Hemrick work because of their constant bickering, not in spite of it.

    The subjects' flaws make the reader feel like they're being let into something real, but it's still lacking. Sedaris is a funny and powerful writer that sometimes comes across as an observer with no creativity copying down everything around him. I guess that's what makes it a memoir. / ★★½

 

The Last Boy by Jane Leavy

This is a long read. I've breezed through 700+ page books in a matter of days, but Leavy's writing is dense and takes a while to sift through. That's a good thing for a biography, though, because it means that the author took the time to immerse themselves in the subject. I know the strange pacing was a holdup for some readers, but it worked for me (for the most part) because of how fragmented and contradictory different accounts and dates were, especially when coming from Mantle. Leavy didn't set out to write the facts, she wanted to paint a picture of the man who was the face (and downfall) of a generation. As soon as his rookie year, Mantle had become more mythos than man, and that won't end until the children who grew up with him die, and even then his legacy of unyielding, unapologetic masculinity will continue from father to son. Despite her claims otherwise, this is the definitive Mantle biography. He didn't know this much about his own life. / ★★★★

 

Petals on the Wind by V.C. Andrews

There's a certain lack of charm when the Dollangangers' have their whole lives in front of them. The first book worked so well because of its limitations, forcing the siblings into complex relationships and decisions. While there is a deeper meaning, the main conflict in Petals on the Wind presents itself as a love triangle. Cathy is caught between Chris and Paul, and later Julian and Bart. It gets tired after 800 pages. Andrews' writing sometimes gets in the way of the story, and it's most noticeable in Cathy's blackmail letters. The wording feels stiff and unnecessary.

    The best part of the novel is the characters. No one is the good guy, and while the back-and-forth romances are a little overdone, I could feel for Cathy. Her own desires are secondary to the people she loves. Her "happily ever after" sits right because she could never have settled down with a regular man into a regular life. This was the life she was born into, and at least she broke the mold in the ways that matter. I'm nervous going into the rest of the series because of how complete it feels—will Andrews ruin a good thing? But if my suspicions are correct. Well. Thank you, freaks. / ★★★★

 

Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger

What makes Catcher in the Rye work for me is the amount of time the audience gets to observe Holden. It seems like Salinger realized this as well because there's a noticeable difference between the stories written before and after CitR. All of them are snapshots into the lives of the rich and despondent, but his later works allow the characters to move, and they provide (a little bit of) closure. Honestly, I don't care if there's no plot or ending, as long as the story has room to breathe. Now ignore all of that so I can tell you that my favorite story was "For Esmé—with Love and Squalor." It was the turning point in the collection where I started to enjoy myself, and it struck a perfect balance between brevity and depth.

    It's interesting to note the patterns in Salinger's work. The earlier stories are shorter and centered around women and their relationships. In "Uncle Wiggly," "Before the War," and "Down at the Dinghy," women come in pairs with the purpose of making sharp comments at the world around them. His later, longer stories ("Blue Period" and "Teddy" are the first to come to mind) are about men and their tortured inner worlds. It's a big difference after reading the Dollanganger series. The next book I read better be written by a woman. / ★★

 

8 books — 2517 pages — avg 3.31 ★