Cormac’s Meridian

I’m a huge fan of Cormac McCarthy.. in that I went from never having heard of him to reading two of his in four days. The guy can really write, and his style is gripping, to say the least. I have yet to see No Country for Old Men so I didn’t know what to expect from the author, but my good friend Will lent me Blood Meridian and I couldn’t put it down.

Pretty much.

Firstly, I will say, this book is not for everyone. It’s got Tarantino-esque levels of violence and gore, tons of racism, and hilarious dialogue. It follows a troubled boy fighting his way across America into Mexico in the late 1800’s with a band of marauders, killing and scalping just about everything that can be either killed or scalped. Nothing is sacred, and if you think you’re immune to the rule of “kill-n-scalp”, you don’t know Glanton (the gang’s leader). They also happen to be travelling with the devil, who is a total badass and about seven feet tall. His course is slowly but surely dragging each man into the pit of their own sins, and my does he do it well. Things take a turn for the less refined. As I said, this book is not for the faint of heart. However, stylistically it is a beautiful creation. Mr. McCarthy really knows how to tell a story, and the voice of the narrative (while it does verge on the poetic) is so strong and convincing that, whether you want it or not, you’re drawn right into the horrific scenes. You are forced to follow this doomed brigade through the decay of the American dream. It’s astounding and beautiful, and I’d recommend this book to anyone who wants to read a well-written, incredibly violent adventure story.

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~Sam Scrimger

On Hatred

Bradley Soileau with a gun?

Have you ever charged into the beginning section of a story and realized that you absolutely despise every character and what they’re about? It’s an odd feeling, especially if it comes after a benchmark idea or foreshadowing that makes you want to read more. I finished Live Flesh by Ruth Rendell during lunch breaks and I had the oddest sensation of wanting to put the book down every couple of paragraphs, combating this overwhelming urge to figure out what the hell is actually going on in this guy’s head and how it is all inevitably going to come crashing down. It’s a story about a rapist who gets out of prison and doesn’t understand why the world treats him poorly. Each line makes you cringe as you’re forced to follow his thought processes, and it’s murder to finally understand Mr. Jenner’s motivations (dun dun). The parents are horrible, the phobia is a nightmare, and the “good guys” are tools. I hated the book, but at the same time it was really good. As an aside, Ruth Rendell is this British grandmother type, writing about horrific mental processes. It’s boggling and stunning.

I had a similar experience reading Vernon God Little, wherein I just hated the main character and every other character and ever scene and all events, but was quite taken with the story and the narrative style. Conflict just drives you to read the book, because if it’s compelling enough, you know that your mind will be eased (if only slightly)by the awaited completion of the winding, nauseating tale. There are readers out there with stronger stomachs than I, holding out for the amazing narrative style and character building, but I can say that I really struggle when I see the cover of the book poking out of my bag and knowing that I’m about to hate something that’s well written, and compelling enough to pull me in. Against my better judgement, I know I’m going to read on.

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~Sam Scrimger

Sag Harbor

Sag Harbor is a Colson Whitehead about being a private school black New York kid in the seventies and living in a broken home. I use the term “Colson Whitehead” in the hopes of conveying the astounding depth of character and narration, line humour and dark forebodings that the man sets in order each time he approaches his writing and idea apparatus. Mr. Whitehead is a genius, and probably my favourite living author. Zone One and The Intuitionist were each my book-of-the-year (2012, 2011, respectively). The takes on ‘the detective novel’ and ‘the zombie novel’ are hilarious and wordy, and there is a serious amount of poetic virtuosity hiding there in that badass mop of dreadlocks.

Colson, in Sag Harbor (the place)

Colson Whitehead is a brilliant author who touches on issues of racism with an angry nerdliness that can sometimes be baffling. He is so damned clever, it can take pages for you to see the analogy or work out the wording. His sentences can be crafted by no other, and his fuel is so forceful, so intense, and so very much a part of him that you have no option but to be pulled along for the ride.

In reading Colson Whitehead, I am now used to the idea that the issue of race will inevitably arise. I can see his amazing sentence structures and a descriptive verbosity needling conflicts that are often a striking new perspective I hadn’t considered. I remain amazed, and that’s just a part of it. Every white nerd or intellectual should read Colson Whitehead. I digress.  Sag Harbor keeps great time, though is more of a ‘thinking’ novel than a ‘stuff happens’ novel. Laugh-out-loud at some points, close to tears at others, and all around an fantastic look at amazing relationships on every scale. Pick it up.

-An aside: at a recent poker night, of five people three brought a Colson Whitehead to be exchanged. Bangin’.

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~Sam Scrimger

Do Let the Dog Drive.

Dramitization.

I recently discovered David Bowman and am impressed by his style.  I picked up this book because of an astounding cover blurb (which turned out to be somewhat misleading): It was advertised as “Garcia Marquez meets Raymond Chandler”. Naturally I jumped on that; those are two of my favourite authors, so I threw this right in the “buy” bin, and checked out. Well, I got through, and quickly, but it was nothing like those boys. We have a nineteen year-old in 1976 rolling through a post-Kerouac US road trip. The writing is slick, the narration is superb, and the style is cunning. However, there was no single piece of fantasy realism, unless you count desert-driving drug hallucinations. Also, no one was actually hardboiled. In the book’s defense, there were a few badass Chandlerian phrases, and some really amazing turns of plot that brought forth vivid, original imagery. I just wish that my expectations hadn’t been so frighteningly high. The novel was swell, and quick, and I recommend it to anyone who wants a go at this quasi-lit fiend hiking across a plane of existence through the Southern States in the summer of Son of Sam and Elvis dying (not a spoiler). It really is an amazing read. But expect a more law-abiding Hunter Thompson meets a crazier Sebastian Faulks (again, amazing writers). Strap in, read on, and prepare for some hilariously over-the-top concepts and coincidences.

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~Sam Scrimger

Confession Time

Can’t picture ’em any other way

I’ve been reading in a serious way, not since childhood, but since about the twelfth grade. Since then I have filled the majority of my spare time with the hobby. This says a couple of things about reading as a leisurely activity: namely that you don’t have to be born a reader to learn to adore it, but also (more to the point of this narrative) that if you take it up in later life, you may find yourself having to fill some gaps. For example, last week I read (for the first time) The Lord of the Rings. I know. Fantasy is my favourite genre, and here I am: a preacher without a bible. So I thought I’d buck up and read it. Note that there was nothing daunting about the book itself, and Tolkien is (obviously) a fine writer. I was worried that I had forsaken the master by watching the movies as a child.

“It was before I was a reader! I didn’t know!”

These excuses ring hollow in the wake of knowing what is going to happen to some of the greatest characters ever wrought in fantasy. The plot won’t surprise me, and Legolas looks like Orlando Bloom. No offense to Mr. Bloom and the rest of the movie cast, but not being forced to create the characters in your head really takes away from the fun, and this has never happened to me before. Such a grand scale screw-up that I just can’t live down. Reading the books was super-fun, and the collection is in the top tier of all books, but I just feel like I dropped the ball, hard. Though I suppose the same thing is probably happening to teens with regards to Ender’s Game (though the movie probably doesn’t have grade-school children killing each other). From the depths of failure, I say this: if you can, read it first. True of Fight Club, Silence of the Lambs, and certainly for Game of Thrones. Let your imagination soar, or you’ll find yourself in my position.

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~Sam Scrimger

Possible Lives

I have just this instant finished reading Sebastian Faulks’ A Possible Life and am wowed by this collection of short stories. Short stories (as a genre)  and I have had a heart to heart and we’re making up nicely, with The Complete Saki and Bloodletting and Other Miraculous Cures preceding this recent delve into the form. Faulks has characters that are creepy as hell, but you don’t realize it until you the end, and you are left with an odd feeling. Like something in your fridge is off, and you know it,

five whole parts!

but you can’t tell what.  I had this unique and, not altogether unpleasant (despite analogy) feeling in each of these shorts. Nothing really goes well for the characters, but the book is about possible lives taking place on Earth at different times: a British spy sent to a concentration camp, a future scientist who discovers the physical compartment for the self and soul, a man who falls in love with his wife’s sister while they all live in a tenement in Victorian England. All of these stories are worth reading for a compelling, understandable and subtly brilliant look at what is not but could be. A properly titled piece, A Possible Life is more than worth taking a look at. Fast-paced, well written contemporary compartmentalized fictions that will linger with you after you put it down and stare at the fading light of the evening from the chair you meant to have vacated an hour before. Take a look.

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~Sam Scrimger

Mired in Fantasy

So, after about a year of reading Malazan Books of the Fallen (Erikson)on and off, I finally finished last week and thought I’d review. A ten volume set with a staggering 900-1500 page limit per book, this EPIC fantasy series took me through the decay of an empire. More characters come back from the dead than I could name, more characters die than I can picture, and there are enough badass magical swords to build a throne out of (novel idea). Gods kill gods, elder gods interfere with the affairs of all, and the schools of magic die and are reborn around the world. I am a huge fantasy fan, and I love lengthy fantasy, but I’ve never encountered anything close to this scale in terms of characters, places, and magic. AND! And it’s actually well written! Steven Erikson actually knows how to build sentences and boasts an extensive vocabulary of real words, not just the ones he makes up for this book series. It was astounding!

Anomander Rake and his sword, Dragnipur

Moving along, I am not here to give away the plot (not that I could in under a hundred pages). I am here, alas, to lament. Under it all, I loved this book. I cannot, however, recommend it to anyone at all. The first book, Gardens of the Moon,  was really really good. But it doesn’t exactly leave you wanting more, let alone another ten thousand pages of fantasy. I have come up with the phrase “fantasy stamina”, referring to how much one can take of a fantasy book before they snap. Specifically it’s about the deep explanations, the Orc history, the reasons why this magic works and this doesn’t and where it all came from. For most readers, eventually you come to a wall and throw down that laborious tome. I have pretty good fantasy stamina, and I know two or three friends who have finished this series (one of whom I strongly respect as a reader). I want to tell you that to read this book requires infinite fantasy patience and stamina, but the payoff is pretty sweet. By the end of it, even though I had read two or three “real” books in between each volume, I was still interested and in love with many characters in the story. So I say, don’t feel like you have to read it, but MAN is it awesome if you can.

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~Sam Scrimger

Thin as it Gets

“Dashiel drank like a man who didn’t plan to live past next Tuesday.”

Dashiel Hammet is in the very top tier of mystery writing, alongside Raymond Chandler for the hard-boiled, alcoholic, not-giving-a-fuck private eye who has a compassionate side buried deep beneath ultimate machismo. I’d like to believe that this has something to do with the writer himself, old Dash, but all I can say for certain was that he drank too much. And so:

Nick and Nora Charles, hanging about in a hotel, toasting the health of their friends four or five times before lunch. Straight up: Nick has two drinks before he gets in the shower, one afterwards, and then meets his friend for an early lunch (of two drinks) at eleven in the morning, to discuss business. Like, hey Nick, we know you worked for this guy and might be able to help find him and holy sweet god are you loaded it’s not even noon! Truly, all class.

This does not take away from the fact that Nick Charles is a fine detective, and his wife Nora has some skills in her own right. They host in a manner that would shame Amy Winehouse, and don’t shy when it comes to being hard-as-fuck with tough guys and guns. Hammet is superbly influential and you can see why almost every mystery author since praises the man to no end. The prose is amazing, the dialogue never misses a beat, and the characters are just so damned good.

Nick-“Don’t you think a drink would help you to sleep?”

Nora-“ No, thanks.”

Nick-“Maybe if I had one.”

Proceed to scotch and soda. Short, sweet, completely badass. Try Red Harvest on for size as well.

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~Sam Scrimger

Can I Do Borges?

This will not be an easy review to write. Labyrinths by Jorge Louis Borges is absolutely the greatest short story collection I’ve ever read, though I was full of loathing for all of the first story until I caught on. Our man Borges is, above all, just a celestial writer. You get the sense, after rereading a line for the sixth time, that no other word fits as well as each of these to convey the subtle meaning behind each sentence. Sometimes it strikes awe. The first story is about the discovery of a made up planet contained entirely in fictitious works littered throughout the ages. Its own set of words, prose, history, life, etc. I was horrified trying to figure out what it meant. The next story is about a man  trying to escape from a fate he knows he will face, while running from war into his own personal possibilities. I regret that I can in no way accurately describe ANY of these pieces, for to do so would be insulting. The meaning and writing is so intricate and astoundingly forged that it becomes flawless. Borges happens also to be dark-matter in terms of writing density, and not easy to get through in the least.

I promise “labyrinth” will not appear in the next book review.

I have never in my life found a book so correctly titled. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that each of the stories is actually a labyrinth in itself, and the mind of the reader is bent trying to make sense of each. There are immortals, a lottery, a giant library, and lots of Don Quixote. You read through each story, seeing one dimension as the plot rolls along, loving the lexicon of this fucking genius, only to realize you’ve been upside down the whole time. I was shocked by each and every story, despite knowing how alarming the previous piece was. As well, Borges throws in some of his essays on (get this) time. I was tripping out. This guy is Argentina’s best writer, and a hell of a philosopher, and he just decides to make you think about time as a labyrinth. You know, to go along with all of his unparalleled short works of fiction, also throwing you into maze-walls you had thought were not there.

It is hard to recommend this book, but harder not to. It’s dense. Dense as hell. But if you give yourself to it, and aren’t afraid to reread what you don’t understand, I am so certain you’ll get something out of this book that you cannot find elsewhere.

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~Sam Scrimger

Mythical Regicide

Mary Renault is serious business. She wrote well ahead of her time, and came up with masterpieces that can still be enjoyed today. Many of her books follow a relatively simple idea: Greek myths explained. Now, don’t take this to mean a boring play-by-play of the backstory of these classics. Far from it. Let’s use the 1958 The King Must Die.

The story of Theseus, told from his point of view. As the legend goes, he has to find his real dad (Though he may have been begot by Poseidon), and along the way becomes a king twice and butchers a Minotaur. Great story, lotsa laughs and excitement. In Renault’s version it is told “realistically”. So, the vast majority of the characters believe in polytheistic deities ruling their shit and causing earthquakes every now and again, but there aren’t magical creatures or inexplicable divine interferences. The fact that we the reader know that Renault is going to keep gods out of the story (along with minotaurs) is perfectly placed beside the characters’ strong beliefs in the gods and their works, causing a really cool explanation of what may actually have happened to start the myth. Lots of war and deceit, many a figurehead and a really amazing way to leave a minotaur out of a minotaur-heavy story.

New spin on old myth is a classic idea, and without getting into too much detail, if you can make it through the first 40 pages you’re in for a superbly enjoyable adventure story. She also did this “classics revamped sans magic” idea with The Mask of Apollo, and The Last of the Wine. I am just amazed at the newness this book seems to have, being written over 50 years ago, about something thousands of years ago. There’s a solid part in the middle of the bullring when Theseus meets slaves from around the world in Crete, and learns briefly about Monotheism. Everyone hates the monotheist and he dies quickly. Tough breaks, great read.

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Sam Scrimger