Clocking in at less than 200 pages, Pastoralia is a rather short and breezy short story collection (because the more standard "short and sweet" would Clocking in at less than 200 pages, Pastoralia is a rather short and breezy short story collection (because the more standard "short and sweet" would sound like a depraved way to describe this collection).
I wonder if, other than Jesus, this has ever happened before.
I previously read CivilWarLand in Bad Decline, Saunders' first collection, several years ago. Although I enjoyed that one, the stories ran together in my mind because they were basically all set in dystopic amusement parks. I had avoided reading this one until now because I thought it would be more of the same. However, I was very wrong to do that, because these stories are laugh-out-loud funny and have distinct settings.
Honestly, all of these stories are more than worth reading. I was trying to figure out why my instinct was to rate this 4 stars instead of 5. I think it's because a certain dialogue style was used often enough to slightly grate, which was the practice of ending statements with question marks? It's like, I'm fine if one character does that, but I don't want one character per story doing that?
Because we’ve got it good. Every morning, a new goat, just killed, sits in our Big Slot. In our Little Slot, a book of matches. That’s better than some. Some are required to catch wild hares in snares. Some are required to wear pioneer garb while cutting the heads off chickens. But not us. I just have to haul the dead goat out of the Big Slot and skin it with a sharp flint. Janet just has to make the fire.
"Pastoralia," the title story, is also the longest. It's also the only one set in a theme park this time. The narrator and an older woman named Janet are stuck playing cavemen in a park that has reenactments of various historic human cultures, including Russian Peasant Farm. Janet is constantly breaking the rules by speaking English instead of oohing and ahhing, or smoking cigarettes, or listening to music, or any number of other violations. Too bad them, this park, too, is in Bad Decline.
But guess what, in real life people come up and crap in your oatmeal all the time—friends, co-workers, loved ones, even your kids, especially your kids!—and that’s exactly what you do. You say, ‘Thanks so much!’ You say, ‘Crap away!’ You say, and here my metaphor breaks down a bit, ‘Is there some way I can help you crap in my oatmeal?’
"Winky" is set at a self-help seminar. A man complains about his sister, Winky, whose religiosity and weirdness would admittedly not bother him so much if they didn't live together.
“Maybe one could work, one could baby-sit?” says Ma. “I don’t see why I should have to work so she can stay home with her baby,” says Min. “And I don’t see why I should have to work so she can stay home with her baby,” says Jade.
"Sea Oak" is unlike anything I've ever read. This is a major highlight of the collection and the one that had me reading funny quotes to my boyfriend. It starts with two cousins, Min and Jade, both poor, trashy new mothers, watching an equally trashy Maury Povich-style TV show called "How My Child Died Violently."
“Man, fuck this shit!” Min shouts. “Freak this crap you mean,” says Jade. “You want them growing up with shit-mouths like us? Crap-mouths I mean?”
If I recall correctly, this is also the only Saunders story from either collection I've read that veers into fantasy or supernatural elements. Yeah, this story truly has it all.
Well yes, he had ruined a few Dalmeyer things in his life, he had yes pounded a railroad spike in a good new volleyball, he had yes secretly scraped a ski with a nail, he had yes given the Dalmeyer dog Rudy a cut on its leg with a shovel, but that had been an accident.
"The End of FIRPO in the World" is the one I understand the least. Mainly because after reading it, I still don't know what FIRPO is. Either I missed something, or it might just be an undefined nickname for a boy who bikes through his neighborhood like a petty menace. But such children are rarely raised in a vacuum...
The barber looked at the pretty girl again. She smiled at him. His heart began to race. This never happened. They never smiled back. Well, she was young. Maybe she didn’t know better than to smile back at an older guy you didn’t want. Or maybe she wanted him.
"The Barber's Unhappiness" might be the first literary recognition of the phenomena of unattractive men putting themselves on pedestals. Is he not a small businessman!? This story goes deep into the barber's psyche and relentless imagination, which he's used to write off women before giving them a chance. Now he's middle aged, fattish, still lives with his mom, and also was born with no toes.
Maybe her father had a deformity, a glass eye or facial scar, maybe through long years of loving this kindly but deformed man she had come to almost need the man she loved to be somewhat deformed. Not that he liked the idea of her trotting after a bunch of deformed guys.
At a remedial driving school, the barber meets a beautiful woman. The problem? When she stands up, her head looks too small for her body because she's overweight.
What would that twitching nervous wage-slave Morse think if he were to dip his dim brow into the heady brew that was the “Archetypal Visions”? Morse, ha, Cummings thought, I’m glad I’m not Morse, a dullard in corporate pants trudging home to his threadbare brats in the gathering loam, born, like the rest of his ilk, with their feet of clay thrust down the maw of conventionality, content to cheerfully work lemminglike in moribund cubicles [...]
"The Falls" manages to feel like the oddball of the group. The viewpoint switches between two men, Morse and Cummings. Morse is a white-collar worker who feels he has missed his moment somewhere. One day, he is disturbed when a town loser and wannabe literati, Morse, snubs his polite greeting made in passing.
In this more than in any of the other stories, Saunders really plays with the language the characters use, making Cummings' inner monologue hilariously distinct....more
The well-known food of Provence is summer food—the melons and peaches and asparagus, the courgettes and aubergines, the peppers and tomatoes,
The well-known food of Provence is summer food—the melons and peaches and asparagus, the courgettes and aubergines, the peppers and tomatoes, the aioli and bouillabaisse and monumental salads of olives and anchovies and tuna and hard-boiled eggs and sliced, earthy potatoes on beds of multicoloured lettuce glistening with oil, the fresh goat’s cheeses [...]
Mayle writes a series of essays documenting his first year living in Provence. Each chapter (or essay) is the name of a month, and it goes from January to December.
He and his wife lived specifically in the mountainous Lubéron part of Provence as opposed to the coast.
I then saw what I assumed to be the correct procedure—the triple kiss, left-right-left, so I tried it on a Parisian friend. Wrong again. She told me that triple-kissing was a low Provençal habit, and that two kisses were enough among civilized people.
Most stories Mayle tells concern his neighbors and the workers modernizing (when they feel like it) his newly purchased house. He lucked out with one oddball neighbor in particular as well as an eccentric plumber + HVAC guy + ant-deterrer guy, and their contributions supply a decent amount of this book.
To begin with, we made a conscious effort to become more philosophical in our attitude to time, to treat days and weeks of delays in the Provençal fashion—that is, to enjoy the sunshine and to stop thinking like city people. This month, next month, what’s the difference? Have a pastis and relax.
It was alright. I was sometimes amused, sometimes vaguely bored. Mayle has a way of transplanting French words into English that are used differently between the languages. For example: "Ants cannot support the juice of fresh lemons," where the French verb "supporter" would translate to "tolerate" or similar in this context.
Personally, I don't feel like this book sold me on Provence above other regions of France. There are just too many places in France to go. But I do have a better sense of Provence, both geographically and culturally. ...more
“I don’t even know what I am. I don’t know why I’m here. I was made by some mystery creature and I don’t have the slightest idea why, or what
“I don’t even know what I am. I don’t know why I’m here. I was made by some mystery creature and I don’t have the slightest idea why, or what he wants from me, or what I am supposed to be doing."
In this one, Christopher Moore satirizes vampires. Well, he tries, at least. It's probably hard to be funnier than something that usually ends up as an unintentional parody of itself.
Jody finds herself under a dumpster one night with a burned hand, heightened senses, and an immense amount of cash. Someone has made her a vampire. For some reason.
“Okay, I’m projecting. What am I thinking?” “I can tell by the look on your face.” “You might be wrong, what am I thinking.” “You’d like me to stop badgering you with these experiments.” “And?” “You want me to take our clothes to the Laundromat.”
At the same time, an aspiring writer (in theory) named Tommy Flood has just arrived in San Francisco. He needs a place to stay that doesn't involve five men named Wong who want to marry him, and, conveniently, Jody now needs someone who can run daytime errands. It's a match made in heaven.
“You’re not going to believe me. It’s a pretty fantastic story. There’s supernatural stuff involved.”
Listen, it's not a fantastic story. I've read a few other books from this author, and this was the weakest. Hence the two stars.
There aren't many moments that are all that funny. While that got better toward the end, as Moore was able to capitalize on his groundwork laid in the rest of the book, it doesn't match up to what I'd consider the average Moore novel. I don't think there's anything I would have quoted or tried to explain to my boyfriend if we hadn't been doing this one together (or maybe I just wouldn't want him thinking too much on all the stuff about women getting men to do things we don't want to do).
Moore did somehow manage to nail the end, though, and more so than I would have thought possible for a book that was just okay....more
Don’t worry, my portals are safe.” Geralt had once watched as only half a traveler using a safe portal flew through. The other half was never
Don’t worry, my portals are safe.” Geralt had once watched as only half a traveler using a safe portal flew through. The other half was never found. He knew of several cases where people had entered a portal and never been seen again.
I played a decent amount of the first Witcher game years ago and stopped because I went on a trip or something. I never got back into it because I felt like I should read the books first. For several more years, I put off even trying the books because the response seemed so lukewarm.
As it turns out, there was no great need to fear this first one, at least.
"In order to become a witcher, you have to be born in the shadow of destiny, and very few are born like that. That’s why there are so few of us. We’re growing old, dying, without anyone to pass our knowledge, our gifts, on to.”
The Last Wish is a collection of short stories starring Geralt, a witcher. I'd be curious to know how this compares in the original Polish, because I think it's styled on the word "hunter" in English. In this case, a witcher solves problems involving, which are apparently not always best solved by hunting them.
"They’re turned into monsters in order to kill other monsters."
Witchers, however, are often discriminated against due to their rarity, strange training, and white-haired appearance that physically marks them. If there's no active problem, Geralt may just find himself turned away at a city's gates.
"Pox on it, I thought, if pretty girls turn frogs into princes, or the other way round, then maybe… Maybe there’s a grain of truth in these stories, a chance… I leapt four yards, roared so loud wild vines tumbled from the wall, and I yelled, ‘Your daughter or your life!’ Nothing better came to mind. The merchant, for he was a merchant, began to weep, then confessed that his daughter was only eight. Are you laughing?”
Many of the stories in this collection are retellings of classic fairy tales, which was a pleasant surprise. These included Beauty and the Beast and Snow White as well as other familiar themes and archetypes, like sleeping (but maybe dangerous) princesses. The twist on them also shows the Witcher role as part monster detective, part monster hunter. Many had humorous takes, such as an accidental wish to a genie.
Mayor Neville was pacing the chamber, snorting and panting with anger. “You bloody, shitty sorcerers!” he yelled suddenly, standing still. “Are you persecuting my town, or what? Aren’t there any other towns in the world?”
The last couple of stories introduce some characters that I think will be more prominent in the series. Firstly, Dandelion, a bard who is both Geralt's opposite and best friend. And then there's Yennefer, a sorceress who is already giving me major "the woman" vibes à la Sherlock Holmes....more
“For a hundred generations he slept, curled like a fetus in the earth’s mysterious womb, digested by roots, fermenting in the dark, summer fruits c
“For a hundred generations he slept, curled like a fetus in the earth’s mysterious womb, digested by roots, fermenting in the dark, summer fruits canned and forgotten in the larder until a farmer’s spade bore him out, rough midwife to a strange harvest.” Plaque beneath a bog body found on the Isle of Cairnholm, Wales
This book has an interesting gimmick, since the author chose strange antique photographs to go along with the story. A Florida teen named Jacob recalls the weird photographs his grandpa used to show him. No, not those kinds of photos, but photos of a levitating girl, an invisible boy, and others.
I held off on reading this book for years because a lot of reviews made it sound as if it were arbitrary randomness to force the inclusion of the photographs, but I didn't get that sense, nor do I feel that any inspiration the author took from the photographs was a detriment to the story. In fact, my edition includes an interview with the author on his process, and he says he looked through hundreds of thousands of photos to decide which to include, which hardly seems like force.
It would be a lot easier to figure out what the hell was going on without a roomful of drunks threatening to lynch me.
When Jake's grandfather dies, he leave him with some cryptic last words, which prove to be the first clues to big mysteries. Due to a couple of lucky coincidences, Jake is able to convince his dad to take him to Cairnholm Isle, where his grandfather grew up in an orphanage after his family was killed by Nazis.
She was heartbroken for someone else, and I was merely a stand-in for my grandfather. That’s enough to give anyone pause, I don’t care how horny you are.
I had mistakenly believed this to be a middle-grade/children's novel. Well, it's not. But Ransom Riggs is pretty funny, and he gave his teen protagonist just enough angst.
I'm just really impressed because from what I read, the author hadn't been planning to write a novel at all, but all the elements lined up so that both the idea and talent were there to produce lightning in a bottle. I actually liked it more than the Percy Jackson books that I read a couple of recently; Miss Peregrine, however, seems to be written for a bit older audience than the Percy Jackson books, since I don't remember any flamingo orgies or ornithology boners in those.
I laughed. “Then why aren’t you out there?” I said, then immediately wished I hadn’t.
“Same reason my book probably won’t happen. There’s always someone more dedicated than I am.”
I saw how many books are in this series before I started. I figured I would just see what the first was about and never read the sequel. Instead, I'm looking forward to continuing the next book at some soonish point. At the same time, I worry that a lot of the mystery that drove this book has been solved (enough), so I wonder if the follow-ups would hook me to the same extent....more
This is a clever little book that pokes fun at archaeological interpretations, particularly how quick they are to attribute items they aren't sure of This is a clever little book that pokes fun at archaeological interpretations, particularly how quick they are to attribute items they aren't sure of to some sort of religious purpose. There are a lot of parallels to Howard Carter's excavation of Tutankhamun's tomb in Egypt, and the "archaeologist" of this book is in fact named Howard Carson.
In this generously illustrated book that takes place in the future, North America is already destroyed, having been buried beneath junk mail over 2,000 years ago. Howard stumbles upon an old motel room with a couple of bodies in them, and he interprets everything through a very wrong lens. The most base, disgusting, or mundane items become ceremonial and sacred (the bathroom is the inner sanctum, for example). Yet the items Howard finds are not only there to criticize fast, lazy answers in archaeology--they sometimes reflect poorly on modern priorities. For example, the TV was an altar and the remote a way to stay spiritually connected to it. They shine a light in the room to see not glints of gold, but glints of plastic.
Written in 1979, Motel of the Mysteries is fast becoming a relic itself and interestingly will need more and more interpretation itself. While most items it mentions still exist, some are obsolete and references are made to items that are less and less familiar to us (such as corded phones, the concept of banging on the top and sides of a TV to get it to work, and a list of old cars with animal names that are no longer produced). Yet it makes a timeless point and is so short I would have to consider it an essential archaeology book....more
So, this is a book about invisibility, especially its numerous inconveniences. A mysterious guest's arrival inreread with /r/bookclub; first read 2012
So, this is a book about invisibility, especially its numerous inconveniences. A mysterious guest's arrival in Iping, England, is followed by stranger and stranger phenomena. Invisibility is something we've all considered, but probably not to the extent Wells has.
Rereading this after ten years, I'm not sure what to think, or perhaps what I want to admit. I don't think I enjoyed it quite as much.
When I read this in 2012, I was just out of college. I was experiencing the tragedy of attempting to secure my first "real" job. So I secretly rooted for the villain and his mini rages against society. And I mean, I still root for him, but there's no feeling in it anymore; this time I was only rooting for the comedy of the situation. And that's fine, but it's not the same. :(
I think even up until somewhat recently I might have still captured that old feeling relatively intact. But after these ten years and comparing my reactions, I can conclude one thing: somewhere along the road, I drank the corporate kool-aid.
On the other hand, maybe it's just because I knew what to expect this time and didn't have the particular joy of a first-time reading. This could be a great choice for someone getting into classics due to the humor and interesting subject....more
Normally a creator of horror manga, here Junji Ito tackles his cats. Ito's wife brings cats into the home, and these little stories are about Ito gettNormally a creator of horror manga, here Junji Ito tackles his cats. Ito's wife brings cats into the home, and these little stories are about Ito getting attached to them and other adventures the cats have. While a departure from his usual work, Ito uses elements and suggestions of horror to tell the story in his "cat diary," which is composed of humorous sketches of life with cats. It's amusing enough for a cat person to spend an hour or two on, but I'm not sure how much appeal there would be for people who never owned a cat....more
Moments after we picked up the car, my attorney went into a drug coma and ran a red light on Main Street before I could bring us under control.
Hun
Moments after we picked up the car, my attorney went into a drug coma and ran a red light on Main Street before I could bring us under control.
Hunter S. Thompson, assuming the name of Duke, and his attorney go on a trip to Las Vegas for Hunter/Duke, a journalist, to cover the Mint 100 and later a law enforcement conference on drugs. They're also trying to find the American Dream. The problem? "Duke," with the assistance of his attorney, must do this while they are getting as high as they can on as many drugs as they can get their hands on.
In a way, this reminds me of Kerouac's On the Road--maybe it's the edgy, thinly-veiled semi-autobiographical characters traveling around. I don't know. But what I do knows it that this was more enjoyable than that, probably because it was actually funny most of the time. Honestly, Thompson didn't have to do much--it sets itself up when half of the craziest sentences begin with "my attorney." There is some serious commentary and criticism of the country/government, but it is 95% drugs, crime, and f-ing around.
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas doubtlessly remains the greatest report on a police drug conference ever written....more
“I like big butts,” Renoir explained to Toulouse-Lautrec.
I have mixed feelings about this. One thing I consistently liked were the absurd
“I like big butts,” Renoir explained to Toulouse-Lautrec.
I have mixed feelings about this. One thing I consistently liked were the absurd quotes attributed to various famous painters of the late 19th century printed under some vaguely relevant work of theirs.
I was pretty intrigued at the beginning. It's basically a comedy-mystery formed around the strange death and doings of Vincent van Gogh, which seems to have been related to the color blue. By the last third, though, my interest was petering out as I saw the story not coming out to much. I also found the repeated jokes to be getting stale. Most of the jokes were already pretty weak, just being at women's expense, or, quite literally, "penis."
Strangely, I actually found the book at its strongest from the perspective of place and time. You can tell Moore did the historical research needed to give depth and make the story, setting, and characters vaguely believable....more
This book is just wild. It's also my only source of education on Micronesia and cargo cults. Sorry, Micronesians.
I don't know how to begin to describeThis book is just wild. It's also my only source of education on Micronesia and cargo cults. Sorry, Micronesians.
I don't know how to begin to describe this book other than saying that it starts with the main character, Tucker, receiving a serious genital injury when a plane he was piloting crashes. That's the least absurd thing in the whole book. Somewhere in the middle was a slog, but I was pretty amused most of the way.
A trans character (Kimi) is referred to as he/him despite the fact that this character seems to identify as a woman. This was written in the 90s, though. Making up for that a bit, Kimi is the best character. Actually, I really enjoyed the side characters in general, such as the named islanders/Shark People....more
I'm pleasantly surprised after jumping into this debut novel without it being recommended to me. This was an absurd story, and I was continually surprI'm pleasantly surprised after jumping into this debut novel without it being recommended to me. This was an absurd story, and I was continually surprised how it became more so at every turn. It reminded me of Vonnegut, but where Vonnegut used science fiction elements, Moore drew from folklore: demons and genies. It follows a bunch of people in the fictional town of Pine Cove in the Big Sur region of California, as well as a couple of visitors. The ending was abrupt, but from what I know a lot of the characters pop up in Moore's later novels....more
A co-worker mentioned the audiobook version of this, which is narrated by the author. So I read the book along with the audiobook, as I'm a crappy lisA co-worker mentioned the audiobook version of this, which is narrated by the author. So I read the book along with the audiobook, as I'm a crappy listener.
Anyway, this was an interesting read made all the better with the author's voice. He tells stories about his life growing up poor in Catholic Ireland. Some have accused him of telling tales. But it reminded me of Richard Wright's Black Boy, in which the author told stories not only about himself, but of people he knew, and perhaps some things that might have been.
The text of several Irish songs his drunk father and other family members sing are printed in the book, but he sings them in the audiobook. I can't imagine that any professional narrator could have done better, and I highly recommend the audiobook....more
This had its moments, but it wasn't one of the better Vonnegut books I've read. Already not very long, it should have been shorter. Or perhaps it shouThis had its moments, but it wasn't one of the better Vonnegut books I've read. Already not very long, it should have been shorter. Or perhaps it should have been longer.
The premise of the book is that a Republican senator's son is giving away the family fortune to anyone who asks, and some think him mad. Add a few more words, and that's basically the plot. It's very loosely constructed, mostly made up of one-off jokes, which were more or less funny....more