For those of you interested in the debate surrounding Jonah Goldberg’s forthcoming book, Liberal Fascism, you will want to check out his appearance on the Glen and Helen Show:

It’s sure to make a splash, and it’s already got some left bloggers in a tizzy even though it doesn’t come out until next week. It’s Jonah Goldberg’s new book, Liberal Fascism: The Secret History of the American Left, From Mussolini to the Politics of Meaning. The title comes from H.G. Wells, and the history won’t be news to people who’ve paid attention — which means it will be news to a lot of people, but Goldberg has a lot to say about the “progressive” roots of both socialism and fascism and the way they’re reflected in contemporary politics. Plus, thoughts on the Hillary and Huckabee candidacies.

I have already commented on the book in galley form, but I plan to review it more fully once it is published.  I think anyone who listens to the podcast will see that Jonah has done his homework and has interesting ideas to debate.

So says Pejman Yousefzadeh of Proust in his review of Swann’s Way:

Within the tremendously long and incredibly descriptive Proustian sentences lay dazzling insights into the human condition, insights that have the reader nodding readily in recognition and ensure that Proust takes his place alongside Nietzsche and Dostoevsky as a master psychologist as well as a tremendously talented novelist. The book is rich with description and imagery and Proust is one of the best there is at transporting the reader into his mind, the better to understand Proust’s story. Tremendous credit must be given to the translating effort, which allows us to fully appreciate the overwhelming beauty of Proust’s story and prose. The nostalgia that is redolent in the book is powerfully affecting and many times, deeply moving. And the characters are unforgettable. One naturally feels sorry for Swann, so hopelessly in love and so blind to the manner in which he is being humiliated by the truly repulsive Odette. The Verdurins remind us of the shallow clique of people each of us has, at some point, run across in our lives. The narrator seems deeply burdened and almost overwhelmed by his emotions and his inability to attract Gilberte’s love is heartbreaking. And at the end of the book, we want more.

He also offers a Monty Python skit as proof of the iconic nature of Proust . . .

Cry of a Tiny Babe
 
Mary grows a child without the help of a man
Joseph get upset because he doesn’t understand
Angel comes to Joseph in a powerful dream
Says “God did this and you’re part of his scheme”
Joseph comes to Mary with his hat in his hand
Says “forgive me I thought you’d been with some other man”
She says “what if I had been - but I wasn’t anyway and guess what
I felt the baby kick today”

Like a stone on the surface of a still river
Driving the ripples on forever
Redemption rips through the surface of time
In the cry of a tiny babe

The child is born in the fullness of time
Three wise astrologers take note of the signs
Come to pay their respects to the fragile little king
Get pretty close to wrecking everything
‘Cause the governing body of the whole [Holy] land
Is that of Herod, a paranoid man
Who when he hears there’s a baby born King of the Jews
Sends death squads to kill all male children under two
But that same bright angel warns the parents in a dream
And they head out for the border and get away clean

Like a stone on the surface of a still river
Driving the ripples on forever
Redemption rips through the surface of time
In the cry of a tiny babe

There are others who know about this miracle birth
The humblest of people catch a glimpse of their worth
For it isn’t to the palace that the Christ child comes
But to shepherds and street people, hookers and bums
And the message is clear if you’ve got [you have] ears to hear
That forgiveness is given for your guilt and your fear
It’s a Christmas gift [that] you don’t have to buy
There’s a future shining in a baby’s eyes

Like a stone on the surface of a still river
Driving the ripples on forever
Redemption rips through the surface of time
In the cry of a tiny babe

- Tales from the Town of Widows by James Canon

School Library Journal:

Adult/High School–In this thought-provoking Latin-American fable, the Colombia countryside has been devastated by 40 years of civil war. Leftist guerrillas, rightist paramilitaries, and government soldiers come spouting different political slogans, but leave indistinguishable horror in their wake. In the village of Mariquita, soldiers arrive to demand volunteers; when none are forthcoming, they kill or kidnap the men and traumatize the women and children. Bereft, the women flounder at first; old rivalries are indulged, the town’s infrastructure deteriorates, and Mariquita is increasingly cut off from the outside world. The inhabitants are often exasperating, but their postapocalyptic yet nonviolent village proves to be a vivid setting for human nature to be revealed and culture reinvented. Ultimately they create a way of life suited to their resources and their female realities, and it is a delight to see this process unfold. The women’s stories (and those of the few remaining males, all with unforgettable stories of their own) have the flavor of folktales–tragic, funny, rich, and magical. In briefer alternating episodes, men’s stories of their experiences in the war are related in starkly realistic, intense fashion. The theme of a world in which women and men are separated and pursue divergent paths is always intriguing, and has been explored by a number of fine writers in science fiction, fantasy, polemic, and utopian modes. This title stands among the best of them.

Read the rest of this entry »

House To House by David Bellavia and John Bruning is a gripping account of Bellavia’s experiences as a squad leader in the First Infantry Division in Iraq (Bellavia has been awarded the Silver Star and has been nominated for the Congressional Medal of Honor and the Distinguished Service).  The book is an awesome look at combat and leadership under extreme stress.

This is a gut-checking, put-your-squeamishness-to-the-side kind of book.  Bellavia speaks frankly in a way only an infantryman can speak - profanity-laden rants about the horrors of combat and the idiotic decisions made by his leaders.  Although gruesome, his accounts of battle are the kinds of accounts we need to take away the veil of romanticism many have of combat.  He speaks honestly of what a body looks like when it has been riddled with dozens of bullets.

Bellavia is a good example of all that is right with our armed forces.  He is courageous, loyal, and honest.  He dodged many a bullets to help out his comrades, but was truthful when his actions or decisions came up short.

The best part of the book centers on his unit’s fight in the second battle of Fallujah.  If you recall, it is the second battle because politics halted the first one.  Bellavia compares Fallujah with Normandy - some may think this is hyperbole, but I would disagree because Fallujah was probably the most intense, extended period of combat in this era of fighting of American armed forces.

Fallujah tests the bonds of friendship and sanity of the participants.  Bellavia’s unit fights its way through its designated sector and then is ordered to go back and clear out infiltrators in their rear.  Many times they were at risk of being over-run, Bellavia’s unit responded with wonderful teamwork and fire discipline.  During the fight, the NCOs (non-commissioned officers) proved their worth by keeping the men calm and focused even during the most trying of times.

During one of these times, Bellavia and his men are tested beyond measure when they enter into the perfect ambush set-up in a house.  Bellavia at first freezes up and almost “loses it” in front of his men, but seeks redemption when they withdraw from the house.  He then narrates a classic wartime account of his fight to gain back his honor of leading men.

After reading this book, I cannot understand how anyone can think poorly of our Iraq War veteran.  The men and women who served (and continue to serve) deserve the greatest respect from civilian Americans - not their disdain as so many have been apt to do.  They are the force behind our democracy.  God Bless them.

John J. Miller has two interesting podcasts up at NRO’s Between the Covers:

Otto Penzler on The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

Otto Penzler, editor of The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps, describes “pulps” for John J. Miller as “the primary source of entertainment for the vast number of Americans who read in the 1920s and 30s … They were called pulps because of the paper — cheap pulp paper — and the covers were garishly colored bright. Usually if they were crime pulps … there was usually a woman in jeopardy — you know, half-torn-off blouse and some evil looking character threatening her. And this appealed to a large number of readers — mostly male.”

Dean Koontz on The Darkest Evening of the Year

The prolific Dean Koontz, author most recently of The Darkest Evening of the Year, discusses with John J. Miller the importance of faith in his writing: “the older I’ve gotten the more I’ve realized that life has purpose and meaning and deep mystery. … The older I get the more wondrous I find life to be. … I couldn’t write about life if it didn’t have that spiritual element in it. … I’m not proselytizing; I’m just saying, this is the way to look at life.”

Both sound worth listening to and I plan to do so when I get the chance.

Ouch, that hurts.  While our politics and backgrounds are worlds apart , Ed has always been a friendly and helpful blogger colleague - if there is such a thing - to me since I started this blog.  I wish him well in his future endeavors and will try to get my technical act together so I can listen to more of his podcasts on my MP3 player.

I can relate to his decision to give up the blog aspect of his site.  Like I Ed, I am now a freelance writer - although I have one main gig as a consultant and write true freelance stuff when I can.  I also started blogging when I had a sometimes dull day job.  This past year I quit that job and took a job in Austin thinking it was the next step in my career.  But then decided that it wasn’t the best thing for my family, so I made the decision return to Columbus.  It was difficult decision and time.  I ended up writing online as an independent consultant for a web site and working out of the house.

Not surprisingly, this - and having another child - has had an impact on my blogging and I have often wondered if it is worth keeping this site going.  But unlike Ed, fiction or book reviews are not the main focus of my work.  So this blog is a way to do something different and to explore my love of books.  With the new job - working at home with a three year old and a three month year old - I don’t have the time I would like to surf the literary blogosphere and engage in debate and discussion like I used to.  But Ed’s place was one of the few I checked out regularly.  His great links and sharp wit always made reading a pleasure.  I will miss it.

As for me, come the new year I want to focus on writing better and more thoughtfully about the books I read.  I know I can’t be a prolific lit blogger with the latest links or news - and I don’t have any inside information on the world of publishing - but with Jeff, and now Moe, pitching in it is my hope that the site will have enough quality content to be worth the pixels.

But enough about me, I want to again wish Ed all the best as he endeavors to take his career to the next level or in a new direction.  I also want to thank him for the courtesy and kindness he has shown me over the years.  His podcasts are an inspiration and a valuable addition to the online discussion of books.  I look forward to reading his reviews and essays wherever they appear.  And I look forward to seeing the novel in book form someday.

Jeff Shaara has recently turned his attention to World War II in his latest book entitled The Rising Tide.  It is the first book of a trilogy covering the European theater. 

The book primarily follows Generals Dwight Eisenhower and Erwin General, American paratroop Sergeant Jesse Adams, and American tank gunner Private Jack Logan.  He interweaves others - primarily George Patton - throughout the book in accordance with the context.  The book covers the North Africa and Sicily campaigns.

If you have never read one of Shaara’s books, be prepared for a first-hand type account.  He writes from the first person, which is extremely hard to do, as you might imagine, since he is not the person written about.  However, Shaara is able to pull it off.  This style provides an engaging and interesting look at the major and minor players in the campaigns.  In particular, I like the parts of the book covering Jack Logan because it is a first-hand account of American tankers in action against the German panzers.  Shaara describes Logan’s first experience in combat (with the M3 Stuart - a light tank) against the Germans - capturing the frustration of the Americans after learning that their tanks are far inferior to the German tanks.

Although there are parts that drag along, for the most part the pages fly by.  Shaara is able to interweave a history lesson amongst the thoughts of the characters.  You experience the frustrations of Rommel with regard to the lack of material support from Hitler or Mussolini and the reasons why his Tunisia campaign failed - primarily because of a rival general’s decision to withhold vital tanks and men.

In short, Shaara provides a wonderful window into the minds of the major and minor participants in the North Africa and Sicily campaigns.

Terry Pratchett’s Making Money is his latest addition to his longstanding fantasy Discworld series. For those unfamiliar with either the author or the series - or indeed the fantasy genre in general - the series is set on the eponymous Discworld, which a flat world that is supported by four elephants that stand on a turtle swimming through space. This is in much the same way that the Lord of the Rings is a very long book about a midget trying to toss the Ultimate MacGuffin into a lava pit without anybody noticing, or how the Chronicles of Narnia are a bunch of books about magical talking creatures and the English kids who love them. In other words, there’s quite a bit more there: while the series began as a relatively straightforward (if hysterical) send-up of classic heroic fantasy (we’re talking Fritz Leiber and Jack Vance territory), it quickly morphed into something a bit more complex. The series is exceptionally versatile: it can and has supported everything from Shakespeare to police procedurals, and usually quite well*.

Making Money is the second (the first being Going Postal) in a sub-series about a character improbably-named Moist von Lipwig. Moist is a conman and swindler (although not, in point of fact, actually a bad man) who has become a more-less-voluntary fixture in the improbably-named Ankh-Morpork***, thanks to the decision of its current Patrician (one Lord Vetinari). Vetinari, who actually has the sort of mind and abilities that people erroneously ascribe to famous political operatives, decided that Moist’s skill set was of value to the city, so he hanged the man, and then gave him a job running the Post Office. After the events there (excellently described in Going Postal), Moist is then given a new assignment: fixing Ankh-Morpork’s banking system. Whether the current operators of it like it, or not.

There are also golems.

Read the rest of this entry »

I can so relate to this sad tale of woe:

Pity the poor bibliophile who caves in to every temptation to buy a book whenever a new catalogue arrives in the mail, when he strolls through the local bookstore or surfs Amazon.com or the numerous websites of publishing companies or university presses. He knows every discount catalogue by name and saves all the promotional coupons from every chain bookstore in town.

He has probably read a review of a book, no, many books, by someone he respects. Or maybe he has really, truly read another book by the same author and was duly impressed. He might even have read a book on the same subject and harbors a theoretical resolve to deepen his knowledge on the subject.

[. . .]

So the books keep piling up. First, every inch of every bookshelf is filled. After that, the books are stacked up on top of the bookcases. Then books are placed sideways in front of the books on the shelves. Books get stacked up on chairs, under side tables, on the floor in corners, even under the bed or dresser. They accumulate in boxes and in every nook and cranny in the house.

The bibliophile, not unlike a stealthy alcoholic, starts sneaking books into the house and stashing them away, sometimes wrapping them up as Christmas gifts with a card indicating they are from some other random member of the household.

There is no way that all those books are going to get read despite the reader’s endless promises to himself, no doubt sincere, that his lifetime reading plan will allow him to eventually plow through every single one of them, come hell or high water.

So many books, so little time.