She: "What are you reading?" Me: "Water For Elephants - and I am nearing the end." "Oh! Have you cried yet?" "No, but I haven't finished. The ending is sad?" "You should have cried by now! My god, you must be heartless." And so ended last night's conversation. This book has evoked some strong feelings, it seems.

Water For Elephants is a novel set in the 1930's depression and follows the trials and tribulations of a young, virginal Jacob Jankowski. Jacobs winds up on a circus as a veterinarian. (Mostly heartbreaking) Drama ensues.

Now, I'm not afraid of a good cry, but I never got too emotionally invested in this story. For one thing, I felt the attempted tugs-at-heartstrings were a little too calculated. Let's make an inventory of verbal tear gas: [reveal spoiler][hide spoiler] Dead parents, dead horses, dead best friends, lost puppies, abuse of women, abuse of animals, sudden loss of legs, and, of course, the poor old man forgotten at the nursing home. Did I miss any? Granted, some stories are just sad. Fair enough. I would be more forgiving if it weren't for the prologue. I'm on to you, Gruen!

Let it be understood: This is a well-written and well-crafted story. Gruen's descriptions make her colorful characters and their sepia hued surroundings easy to imagine, which is probably why I assume this will hit the big screen imminently. Circus life makes for fascinating fiction: the wackiest characters and situations seem entirely believeable. The plot is pretty tight and the characters make suitable choices. When it comes to the descriptions, I have one complaint: The bullhook. This tool (of torture) is nearly as prominant as a main character, but I never really knew what it looked like or exactly how it inflicted pain.

Overall, this was an entertaining read with a splash of interesting circus history. I think your response to this read will really depend on what you look for in a book. This is not a work of classic literature that will endure for generations. If you want to pass the morning commute with a page-turner, Water For Elephants is great.

I once took a history course in which the professor was terrible with dates: "Event X" took place in 1917 in lecture, 1918 in the review session, and 1919 on the test. As you might imagine, there was nearly a mutiny when the tests were handed back. Frustrating? You bet.

This kind of instructional purgatory is similarly offered by Learning Javascript. Imagine reading a passage of code lingo and thinking, "Ok, I get this", only to find oneself completely baffled by the corresponding code example. Why is that '.' THERE? Where is that function declared? Where did that variable come from?...Cue 10-15 minutes of re-reading the instruction passage and re-analyzing the example code. Throw up hands in frustration. Do a google search, find the publisher's website, and discover, 'LO AND BEHOLD, pages upon pages of errata.

Ok that's frustrating, but once you find the errata and learn to ignore the obvious typos and misnamed functions -- it's passable. And so, fairly smooth (albeit monotonous) sailing until the chapter on Events Handling. Suddenly, the reader is thrown into the abyss. The chapter is prologued with the warning, paraphrased: "You should skip this because it will confuse you". Nevertheless, I read on and was -- as predicted -- pretty confused. Maybe I should have skipped it.

That chapter on Event Handling, however, was not an island; there were concepts in subsequent chapters that were rather dependent on the material covered. I think it was probably an afterthought to stick in the "confusion" warning, perhaps after the editor tried to get through the chapter with limited success. To invoke another recent read - Made to Stick - I think Learning Javascript suffers from "The Curse of Knowledge". The author clearly knows a lot about javascript, but he struggles to communicate his knowledge in a way that non-knowers will easily comprehend.

Nevertheless, I made it through and feel like I have a pretty good handle on the core concepts, it just took a little more outside research and re-reading than I would have preferred. The big payoff is the end of the text, in chapters 13 and 14, where Powers dives into the world of javascript libraries and APIs. For those developing web apps, this is interesting and readily applicable stuff.

I once took a history course in which the professor was terrible with dates: "Event X" took place in 1917 in lecture, 1918 in the review session, and 1919 on the test. As you might imagine, there was nearly a mutiny when the tests were handed back. Frustrating? You bet.

This kind of instructional purgatory is similarly offered by Learning Javascript. Imagine reading a passage of code lingo and thinking, "Ok, I get this", only to find oneself completely baffled by the corresponding code example. Why is that '.' THERE? Where is that function declared? Where did that variable come from?...Cue 10-15 minutes of re-reading the instruction passage and re-analyzing the example code. Throw up hands in frustration. Do a google search, find the publisher's website, and discover, 'LO AND BEHOLD, pages upon pages of errata.

Ok that's frustrating, but once you find the errata and learn to ignore the obvious typos and misnamed functions -- it's passable. And so, fairly smooth (albeit monotonous) sailing until the chapter on Events Handling. Suddenly, the reader is thrown into the abyss. The chapter is prologued with the warning, paraphrased: "You should skip this because it will confuse you". Nevertheless, I read on and was -- as predicted -- pretty confused. Maybe I should have skipped it.

That chapter on Event Handling, however, was not an island; there were concepts in subsequent chapters that were rather dependent on the material covered. I think it was probably an afterthought to stick in the "confusion" warning, perhaps after the editor tried to get through the chapter with limited success. To invoke another recent read - Made to Stick - I think Learning Javascript suffers from "The Curse of Knowledge". The author clearly knows a lot about javascript, but he struggles to communicate his knowledge in a way that non-knowers will easily comprehend.

Nevertheless, I made it through and feel like I have a pretty good handle on the core concepts, it just took a little more outside research and re-reading than I would have preferred. The big payoff is the end of the text, in chapters 13 and 14, where Powers dives into the world of javascript libraries and APIs. For those developing web apps, this is interesting and readily applicable stuff.

Mysteries often have no repeat value.  You read them once, marvel at the twisty surprise ending, and never read them again.  

That is not the case, however, with these tales.  The writing and characters themselves are enjoyable -- and the twisty stories are just gravy.  

I was not eager to read this book.  Long long ago, I had seriously overdosed on Encyclopedia Brown, etc,  and developed an aversion to short mysteries.  Living in Japan, however, I was limited to the small English rack at the Gifu train station bookstore.  One fun thing about buying books in Japan -- they always folded on a brown paper book cover at checkout.  

[A brief sidebar:  In Japan I loved the trend of wrapping up purchases.  You could buy coffee to-go and they would wrap it in a carefully folded paper bag, and seal it with a sticker.  Unwrapping said coffee for a casual drink + walk?:  A serious faux pas.]

Anyways:  Sherlock Holmes.  So it only took one story (~15 pages) to get hooked.  In these, the original stories, Watson is much more interesting than the bumbling "always wrong" character on the old radio show.  He's Sherlock's heavy, at times, and his anchor to reality/the human realm.  Also, am I the only one who didn't know about Sherlock's drug issues?  I had to reread the opening paragraphs of The Sign of Four.  

The writing is excellent, the stories compelling and edgier than you might expect (drugs, race, infidelity, etc), and reading these stories I felt immersed in a different (but relatable) world of yesteryear.  

Another nice thing about these stories: They are freely available on the Internet.  Check out wikisource or project gutenberg for free texts. 

Calvino is a master storyteller, and with Invisible Cities he presents a succession of mini-stories. Here's the setup: Marco Polo is entertaining Kublai Khan, recounting his tales of cities throughout Khan's empire.

Polo's description of each city is brief - a mere 1-2 pages - and compelling. I noted some of my favorite cities above in the sub-ratings. The descriptions are fantastic, mythical, playful...and mixed with relatable themes of memory, seeking, life/death, and repetition.

It's the kind of writing that is fun to read for its own sake. I know I'll be reading Invisible Cities again -- looking for the connective threads. If you like Kafka's shorter stories, you'll enjoy this read (and vice versa).

Here's a snippnet:

If you choose to believe me, good. Now I will tell how Octavia, the spider-web city, is made. There is a precipice between two steep mountains: the city is over the void, bound to the two crests with ropes and chains and catwalks. You walk on the little wooden ties, careful not to set your foot in the open spaces, or you cling to the hempen strands. Below there is nothing for hundreds and hundreds of feet: a few clouds glide past; farther down you can glimpse the chasm's bed.

Trans. by William Weaver

I love the original film, but I didn’t know this was first a novel — and an excellent novel, at that.

It was written by Richard Condon and published in 1959. The writing is sharp and the narrator has such an interesting way of describing the characters — delving deep into psyches and motivations and tendencies. Very fitting, since psychology is the driving force for the characters and plot of this story; the sexually laden theories of Freud and Jung make their presence known throughout. I like the way Condon draws upon myth, with the story running parallel to that of The Oresteia of Aeschylus. One arc of the story lampoons McCarthyism, and the elements of mass hysteria and manipulation by fear remind me of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible.

This is a quick, easy read -- with substance.  I would highly recommend it as a summer read.  One caveat:  Although not particularly graphic, the sex and murder involved makes this novel best suited for a mature audience. 

This is easily one of my favorite reads.  As advertised, it is an anthology of Kafka's short stories -- perhaps most notably The Metamorphosis.  While this extremely famous short story of man-becomes-beetle is a good enough reason to buy the anthology, what keeps me coming back are the "shorter stories". 

These shorter stories are really short:  Ranging from a couple pages to a single paragraph.  Kafka packs a lot of energy and creativity into those few lines -- and crafts scenarios that, while often fantastical (with a lot of mythical/romantic imagery), are remarkably relatable.  

Three favorites come to mind -- and I've noted them in my ratings:  An Imperial Message, The Sudden Walk, and The Silence of the Sirens.  I don't think my description could do these stories justice, but each one is less than 2 pages so go see for yourself!

When I hear people talk about Kafka, I hear adjectives like dark, brooding, gloomy, and cynical.  I would use the opposite adjectives; when I read these stories, I feel like Kafka is charging the mundane with lightness and excitement.  Or playfully taking a myth and turning it on its ear.

A few months ago I said to one my favorite professors that I was reading this anthology of Kafka.

"Kafka?" she said.  "That could change your life." 

Probably unlike most readers of this novel, I was well past high school when I first met Phineas and Gene. 

I mention these characters first and foremost because they are what make this novel great.  Phineas shines like a beacon of humanity -- happy, well intending, light -- and stubbornly/endearingly refuses to acknowledge the existence of ugliness in the world.  And Gene seems like an average flawed teen -- jealous, introverted, academic, but relatable.  Did anyone else read this novel and think:  "I should be more like Phineas?"  

Getting into the story...I remember the first chapter begins with a fairly dull account by the book's narrator, Gene, of his visit to Devon.  Devon is the stuffy, elite boarding school where Gene and Phineas were schoolmates long ago.  He takes care to visit very specific places -- places with a certain significance the reader has yet to learn.

(An aside: It's rumored the book is autobiographical, since Knowles attended the elite Devon-esque Exeter boarding school in his youth.)

Anyways, midway through the first chapter, we're whisked into the past and the story picks up.  We meet a compelling cast of supporting characters, and, by the end, maybe (hopefully) we learn something about the nature of friendship.

After the first read, I find it interesting how much more meaningful and emotionally-charged the beginning of the first chapter becomes.  Knowles' description of the fateful tree is iconic:   

The tree was tremendous, an irate, steely black steeple beside the river.

That imagery inspired a drawing from yours truly.  Here's a link -- it's the piece titled Knowles.

I find that people have a love/hate reaction to this book.  I'm always surprised by the intense anti-Knowles fervor -- is it because this was compulsory reading in high school?  In any case, it's only 100 pages and change...go read it, then come here and sound off!