Tom’s Crossing by Mark Z. Danielewski

That’s it. That’s all I’m putting. Well, that probably won’t be true by the time I’ve finished writing this bit. I never plan that far ahead. In fact this very sentence I’m writing now I had no idea at all five minutes ago that I’d be writing it. Although I guess I’ve just summed up the very action of writing. I wonder if Mark Z. Danielewski (MZD from now on) writes that way or whether he knows exactly what each line, sentence and paragraph is going to say. Because man, can he write. And this novel is 1200 pages long and – perhaps strangely for MZD, based on his previous books – aside from one page, this is all solid, full-page writing, so he’s written a lot.

More than any other book I’ve written about on this blog, this is the most difficult to fully elucidate why I recommend it, without spoilers. And without contradicting myself at every turn. Because it’s fair to say that this won’t be for everyone. It’s painfully slow paced, but in a good way. Like the pain you get when you’re having a tattoo done. Oddly addictive. It’s self-indulgent in places but so intelligently well-written that that self-indulgence is so enjoyable. It’s frustrating in a few places too when the story goes off on a tangent that changes the pace somewhat, but you end up just being excited as to where it’s now going. This is a story that most writers would have told in 200 pages. Or 400 pages with a bit of padding. Or 600 pages with a shed load of backstories, plus extra padding. Or 800 pages with a shed load of backstories, extra padding plus a couple hundred pages of inane rambling. Or 1000 pages with all of the above plus pictures every 4 pages. That MZD has told this story over 1200 pages and yet still made it so unbelievably readable is some sort of miracle.

You know what I think this book is? It’s a book that contains a story which you read because you love writing. Or the form of writing, the art involved, the actual act and skill of creating a story, a novel and a book. There’s essentially nothing unique or different about the story itself; it’s all about how the story is told and how, as a reader, you approach and enjoy how it is being told. That’s the bit that I recommend.

In my usual way, I’m going to finish by referencing a Goodreads review – just the one as it’s pretty breathtaking in it’s level of utter dumbfuckery. It’s posted by Roy, who hasn’t included a picture of himself as it’s more than likely he’s got multiple facial features more than the rest of us as a result of decades of familial inbreeding. Here’s a couple of lines from the Royster:

“Every female character is intelligent and flawless, with most of them insufferable with their attitudes towards the male characters, who are all eventually portrayed as pathetic, cowardly and/or terrible father figures. It’s nauseating to see in modern media that the only way female characters can be strong is by putting down and insulting white male characters. The only male character that doesn’t suffer from this is the effeminately written character of Kalin.”

Yep, Roy’s gone the misogynistic, racist route. And incorrect as well. Every female character is not flawless (did you even read the scenes with Allison and Sondra? I’m assuming not as you got one of their names wrong) and quite how you’ve read MZD’s portrayal of Kalin as effeminate I’ve no idea. I’d like to see you do what Kalin did in this story. Still, I’m too mature than to poke fun at a stranger this way so I’ll just finish by saying that Roy is clearly an old white guy with a small willy.

All Involved by Ryan Gattis

Holy shit, I’m learning a lot whilst doing this blog. Today, whilst doing my usual Goodreads look at what others think about this book (I really don’t know whether it can be considered research or whether I’m now genuinely just looking for people to take the piss out of), I learned about ‘#ownvoices’. Now, I’d not heard of this before but Denise let me in on it with this:

“Book has 17 different POV’s. All of them diverse and most of them dark, raw and hideous. It matters that the author is a white male from Colorado. To be fair my reading experience may have been different a couple of years ago. I would have still found it raw, gritty and disturbingly violent, but now I am concerned about #ownvoices”. Which Google AI explained to me means this:

“OwnVoices is a movement that emphasizes the importance of authors writing about stories that align with their own lived experiences and identities, particularly marginalized ones. It highlights the authenticity and credibility of narratives when authors have a personal connection to the characters and issues they represent”.

I’m not going to add anything new or particularly earth-shattering to the actual debate (and whether I agree with it or not is largely irrelevant). However, my issue is with Denise’s comment “my reading experience may have been different a couple of years ago”. Why? Why does it matter who wrote the book? And if we start taking the stance that a book should only be written by someone who has the relevant life experience, then where the fuck does that leave us? Can a white writer not include a black character? Can a straight black writer not write about a gay Asian? Please explain to me what is wrong with someone taking time to learn about a subject in order to write about it? I’m pretty sure Ryan Gattis didn’t just make all this up? His research must have been pretty staggering and I think – in all his books – his characters are so well-rounded and very much real. In fact, if I hadn’t stumbled across ‘#Ownvoices’ I wouldn’t have questioned the authenticity of this book at all.

This book is fantastic and everyone should read it. Which is what I will also say about Safe and The System whenever I get around to adding them here. Ryan Gattis is an awesome writer.

Green River Rising by Tim Willocks

I’m not entirely sure when I read this so I’m going to assume it was the year it came out, 1994. Man, 1994…the year of the first Playstation and the year Kurt Cobain died. The first U.K. National Lottery was this year too, and having wasted more money only last night on trying to bag the £200m Euromillions, my lottery luck hasn’t changed at all since 1994. I swear it’s rigged.

On the book front, Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk To Freedom was published along with – more significantly, for me anyway – Volume 1 of Mike Mignola’s Hellboy. An utter classic. Other books published that year: Cormac McCarthy’s The Crossing, Tom Clancy’s Debt of Honor and Denis Lehane’s A Drink Before The War, which I actually read last year and loved. If you ask Goodreads to show you the top 200 books of 1994, Green River Rising isn’t on the list. And this is a list that has (albeit scraping in at number 196) a book entitled “When God Writes Your Love Story: The Ultimate Approach to Guy/Girl Relationships”. A book that I ought never read for fear of breaking my promise to keep this blog negative-free.

My point (if I even have one) is that Green River Rising, for me, was one of the best things of 1994 and although I haven’t read it since (I’m hoping to very soon) I’d imagine it will still be one of the best things of any year. A great book.

Razor Girl by Carl Hiaasen

I feel like I’m starting to judge these forays into the Goodreads 1-starrers pretty well now. Surely no one can have a bad word to say about this baby? But yes…yes they can.

Kristin got to 70% before calling it quits. You’re so close Kristin and have come such a long way. I get quitting a book early because it’s just not working but why read 70% of a book you clearly hated?

Vio commented “I’m so tired of florida man humor”. Can’t help but think Carl Hiaasen is bearing the brunt of Vio’s failed Floridian relationships here. Hey Vio, it’s not Carl’s fault…

Liz gave us the cryptic, anti-American “Too American, too brash, too strange compared to my life. And it wasn’t”. And it wasn’t what? Don’t leave us hanging Liz.

Clare minced no words at all by simply stating “hate.”. No capital H but a full stop. Curious grammar.

My favourite though is from Sandy, with the insightful “Written by a man, edited by a man…obviously knows zero about shaving pubs” (sic). I don’t even know where to start with this one but if you’re going to knock the editorial work then at least get your own right.

I love Carl Hiaasen’s books and, in particular, his sense of humour. He is one funny man and I laughed out loud so much throughout this novel (as I do with all his books). Hilarious, sharp, stupid, entertaining, very easy to read. What’s not to like?

The 7 ½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton

Here’s another one. Another book with such a great premise that you wished you’d thought of it yourself. It’s kind of like Groundhog Day meets Quantum Leap meets Freaky Friday meets Miss Marple. What a film that would be. And what a book this is. I read somewhere that it took Stuart Turton three months to plan out the book on a huge spreadsheet where he detailed every two minutes of every character’s day and their location in the house at each point and when you read the book you can easily understand why he needed to do this.

This is literally a book to get lost in; a book that needs 100% of your attention every time you pick it up as the term ‘labyrinthine plotting’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. The real genius, however, is that Mr. Turton pulls it off with aplomb. Absolutely perfect reading escapism.

A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James

I know I said I’d never write anything negative on here but in my defence, this isn’t about books. And it’s very difficult to sustain a holier-than-thou stance across so many posts before my natural childishly sarcastic tendencies kick in. Anyway, I hate reggae music. Well, hate is a strong word. But if I’m ever jailed at Guantanamo then my captors should eschew Megadeth and Slayer, plop a red, green and yellow bobble hat on my head and torture me with Jimmy Cliff and Aswad. I’d turn snitch and spill the beans on everyone.

What I do like, however, is a fictional story based around factual events and containing real-life characters (see American Tabloid for the ultimate example of this). Particularly when there’s an air of the unknown around the specific details. I love the speculative aspect of it. The ‘this-could-easily-be-the-truth-you-know’ of it. The idea that you’re somehow learning something additional about a piece of history, whether it’s ultimately true or not.

This book, very much like American Tabloid, is pretty mind-blowing in terms of its scope and ambition and what it ultimately achieves. It’s the sort of book that leaves you so grateful that people as smart and eloquent as Marlon James are out there and devote so much of their time to writing something as breathtaking and gargantuan as this.

Oh, and it’s the 2018 Portland Award winner. ‘Nuff said.

Who They Was by Gabriel Krauze

I’m really trying NOT to use Goodreads as the basis for each book post I do, but I was really curious about the 1-starrers on this one. Or, more accurately, I was keen for Goodreads to reaffirm my view that there’s some complete nobjockeys out there. And it didn’t let me down.

Caroline’s review starts with the startling admission that she “doesn’t like books about violence and drugs” and that she “isn’t the target audience”. Why the fuck are you reading it then Caroline? Is your junkie mobster husband forcing you to? Just think of the physical and emotional effort Caroline went through to read a book she knew she would hate just so she could then tell everyone how much she hated it. Some people just don’t help themselves.

Deborah stated “One of the least enjoyable books I think I’ve ever ploughed my way through (on audio)”. On audio? What the shit? You could have pushed the stop button at any time Deborah. That’s masochism for the digital age. And just fucking stupid.

I’ve picked on Caroline and Deborah there but there’s really three types of people who irritate me and why I think ultimately that book reviews are pointless:

  1. The people who did not finish the book but still rate it. One guy rated it 1 star and didn’t even finish the first chapter.
  2. The people who ‘struggle through’ the book just so they can bitch about it in a review.
  3. People who do either of the above and then tell people not to bother reading it.

And it’s this third bit that really gives me the shits. My intention with this blog is to talk about books that I’ve really enjoyed and that I think others will too. There’s millions of stories and authors out there and finding new ones based on other’s recommendations is one of the joys of reading. I’ve read books that were ultimately disappointing but I’d never suggest that others don’t read them. There’s an American Tabloid (or Who They Was) out there for everyone. One man’s Oscar Wilde is another man’s Oscar Pistorius. Something for those negative nonces to think about; why not expend energy on writing something positive about something you enjoyed? We can all easily find a stack of books that aren’t for us…the ones that really hit our sweet spots are usually harder to come across.

<Jumps off his high horse> Right, sorry about that. I may have digressed. I really enjoyed this book, probably due to its subject matter and the fact that it’s a difficult and divisive subject to discuss. I thought it was intelligent, engaging and well-written. But hey, that’s just me. I think Caroline and Deborah disagree.

Six Stories series by Matt Wesolowski

In my blog manifesto (copies available by request) I state that I don’t write anything negative on here. Not because I’m a good person or that I’m trying to attract sponsorship from the Church (the constant swearing may have put paid to that) but mainly due to the fact that who am I to judge someone’s work? All book reviews (you’ll find none here) are completely subjective and ultimately one person’s view on whether they liked the book or not. One man’s Dr. Zhivago is another man’s Dr. Shipman. Or something.

Anyway, with all that said…sometimes to explain how good something is you have to compare it to something shit. And there are two authors I’ve previously read who are insanely popular but whom I will likely never read again who could benefit from reading Matt Wesolowski’s books and see how proper plotting and pacing, twists and reveals, suspense and pure page-turning addictiveness is done. All six of these babies are top notch.

American Tabloid by James Ellroy

My all-time favourite book. Read it more times than I can remember and it’s an absolute fucking monstrous ride through America’s shittest period every time I read it. Follow it up with The Cold Six Thousand and Blood’s A Rover and you have the finest body of non-fiction fiction ever written. Totally masterful and, for me, something everyone should read if you want to understand even a little more of the assassinations of JFK, RFK and MLK, the Bay of Pigs, Vietnam and the utter corruption of the United States. This may be fiction, but it’s likely right on the money.

The Trees by Percival Everett

Man, this was one funny, entertaining book. Dark and funny as hell and Percival Everett is clearly as mad as a box of frogs. And have I mentioned it’s funny? If I had Everett’s sense of humour I reckon I would have been better-liked at school. Brilliant, brilliant book.