Sideways – Rex Pickett and Up in the Air – Walter Kirn

Available for $10.17 (both!) in paperback at Amazon.com

Buy them if: You’re a sucker for books that have “Now a Major Motion Picture” printed on the cover

Don’t buy them if: You’re excited for books that will exceed the films. They don’t.

Until very recently, I could only think of a single film that rated as superior to the book upon which it was based. (Extraordinarily, Annie Proulx met her match in Ang Lee of all people…) And then somehow, in the span of two months, not one, but two books made their way into my hands...and then promptly fell short of the precedent set by their silver screen dopplegangers.

Both Sideways and Up in the Air were heralded as smart little films, succeeding with quirky characters and elegantly realistic worlds, each devoid of Hollywood glamorizing. If anything, the human flaws and the dull settings gave these slightly askew visions of life a cache of credibility. The big screen Miles and Jack were certainly compelling - if slightly unlikeable – anti-heroes. And while I didn’t love the film version of Walter Kirn’s ‘Airworld’ tale, I could certainly relate to characters for whom flight attendants and plastic silverware are standard parts of a workday.

Given this, who wouldn’t be queuing up to grab a copy of the paperback in their local bookstore? After all, the book is always better than the film, right? At first glance, Sideways offers support for this maxim. There go the same characters, launching off on the same wine-soaked adventure. It’s no trouble at all conjuring a mental image featuring Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church. In fact, you won’t start to notice discrepancies for quite some time. The book, like the film, moves through entertainingly harmless descriptions of ‘boys being boys’ alcohol-soaked revelry. It follows the pair gamely as one seeks wine-induced euphoria while the other pursues a more risqué siren’s call before his impending nuptials. All in all, a good, clean (well, for a story centered on DUIs and cuckolding) tale.

But at some point the words take a loopy turn away from realism and the whole thing begins to derail. The movie was wise to include only hints of the really silly scenes as a means to set off its more depressing tones, but author Hackett goes at them full throttle with a style that is more Al Franken – pre-Senate version, of course – than I would prefer. Somewhere around the mythical, midnight boar hunt, Hackett loses a grip on the pseudo-realism that director Alex Payne manages to maintain through to the movie’s conclusion. As a book, it’s still a welcome diversion from the real world, but as a fictional narrative it can only manage second place to its Hollywood successor.

Meanwhile, the cool, jaded and Clooney-ized Up in the Air available at your local Redbox offers such a distant take on Walter Kirn’s original (the pages and binding version) it could very well be marketed under a wholly different title and easily rendered unrecognizable. Kirn should be grateful this never came to pass. He would certainly sold far fewer copies! While the film itself doesn’t emerge flawless, the literary version is far more encumbered by woe, ego and depression that weigh too heavily and without balance.

Like Sideways, the novel is a bit overplagued by characters that operate a little too far outside reality for a reader to really identify – and therefore empathize – with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love the fantastic. To me, pure fictional storytelling, unyielding to reality, remains hallowed ground. But you can’t have it both ways. Using reality to excuse characters’ disingenuous actions, thoughts and words just feels like cheating when they are otherwise unbounded by these rules. It feels…icky. Like a setup. Don’t ask me to choose between Door Number One and Door Number Two and, oh by the way, please ignore the screaming behind Two, it’s nothing to be concerned with…

Such is the feeling you might get paging through a tale that oddly juxtaposes real entities – Mariott and MGM – with oddly familiar figments like ‘Desert Air’ and ‘MythTech.’ While it’s not completely uncouth to introduce what are essentially pseudonyms for real-world counterparts, the resulting interactions feel disjointed. It’s as if J.K. Rowling asked you to believe that Hogwarts students don’t eat. Flying broomsticks? Sure. People who don’t get hungry? It’s fiction out of context, something that subtly plagues the entire length of this book. Not enough to pain, but adequately annoying.

All in all, even without flaws serious enough to dock Up in the Air major points, there are enough minor blemishes to recommend against it. If you were hoping for fuller, more nuanced take on the what you saw in theaters…you got the best there is already. With popcorn. Quit while you’re ahead.

They Call Me Baba Booey – Gary Dell’Abate and Chad Millman

$12.50 in hardcover from Amazon.com

Buy it if: You’re a completist whose bookshelves are already stocked with Private Parts, Quivers: A Life, and Too Fat To Fish

Don’t Buy It if: The only memoirs you read are by celebrities themselves. Who cares about those peons behind the scenes?

Believe me, I am more than aware that a large portion of my ‘audience’ will take one look at the subject matter, smirk at a final confirmation of my obviously lowbrow tendencies and quickly dismiss this modern autobiography. But you shouldn’t and here’s why: Howard Stern has an immediately polarizing, completely galvanizing effect on almost any American clued in to pop culture. The catch? A huge amount of these people react to a name and reputation…having never actually listened to the radio program. Now, believe me, I am not going to advocate that all of my readers purchase a Sirius subscription and become avid followers (though I’m willing to bet some of you might be surprised!) But I will ask that you consider this book on its own merit, because ‘shock jock’ cache aside, it’s a fairly interesting read.

Gary ‘Baba Booey’ Dell’Abate - Yes, the nickname is explained in the book - is Howard Stern’s long time producer. And had he set out to chronicle his time on the show, there is no doubt that his first whack as an author would have been – at minimum - full of entertaining anecdotes. But like the show he produces, this volume is not what it appears to be on the surface. Instead of rehashing glory days of lesbians, butt bongo and Jackie the Jokeman, They Call Me Baba Booey is an honest look at a how a few twists of fate, good work ethic and a sense of humor can deposit a working class kid at the helm of a media juggernaut.

Ironically, it’s the lack of focus on Stern and the show’s content that will captivate both fans and non-fans of Howard. After all, listeners already know what goes out over the airwaves, and haters probably don’t care. Instead, it’s an honest look at the forces that created a man able to withstand Howard’s most barbed attacks and come back stronger than ever. A severely depressed mother, closeted gay brother and angst-ridden boss are only a small portion of the people that formed the author’s personality. His ability to view his life with a (relatively) objective perspective makes for very compelling reading indeed. Even if the prose isn’t the most eloquent literary construction on the market today, the honesty and candor more than make up for it.

Case in a point: a jacket photo that’s as real at it gets. Forget the glossy glamour shots or fashion-coordinated ‘candids’ that grace the fronts of so many memoirs. Dell’Abate put himself out there in all of his mid-puberty, horribly mustachioed glory. It’s a supreme example of unequivocal self-deprecation and truth. In fact, this might the rare instance where you can judge a book by its cover.

“Stuff You Should Know” – Josh Clark and Chuck Bryant

$0.00 (!) on iTunes

Buy it if: You’ve ever been a subscriber to Smithsonian Magazine. Or keep your car radio tuned to NPR constantly.

Don’t Buy It If: You think iPods are for music only and NPR is nothing but a commie plot.

Books can be wonderful diversions from the real world, or delicious slices of information about it. But the one thing they can never be is…safe to read to while driving! So, in a small break from tradition, Will’s Super Nerdy Reviews is officially recommending a podcast! For all of its pop-up ad, Viagra-selling, social-networking annoyance, every once in a while the internet lands something – quite literally – in your lap(top) that brings intellectual joy to the dot com era. And in the best of times, it’s free!

I would go so far as to say that the ‘Stuff You Should Know’ sessions are practically required listening in terms of keeping your ‘Super Nerdy’ status. (For those of you uninterested in the social sadness that can result, don’t worry, ‘Stuff You Should Know’ can also make you seem incredibly worldy at the cocktail parties to which I’m sure you inevitably get invited.) When you add in the convenience of being able to download them from iTunes gratis and store them on you iPod, iPhone, iPad, iMac and iEverythingElse, there’s quite literally no excuse for not at least giving them a try. (Start with the episode: ‘How Jack the Ripper Works,’ you’ll be instantly hooked.)

An outgrowth of the HowStuffWorks.com website, the podcast is essentially a very focused take on one of the site’s articles, a basic overview with a bit of background and quite a few fascinating tidbits to add some color commentary, all done in 20 to 40 minutes. (Being a podcast, there’s no real time restraint. And, like old time radio broadcasts, no interruptions once you’re through with the initial sponsor obligations.) Should the program sufficiently capture your interest, the website provides articles and information with far more detail on the subject. If it turns out that ‘How Crime Scene Clean-Up Works’ doesn’t hold your interest – though I can’t honestly imagine that’s possible – you can delete it guilt-free having spent not a cent on its purchase.

Of course, as any high school history student will tell you, content does not an interesting lesson make. It’s all in the delivery. This is where ‘Stuff You Should Know’ stands head and shoulders above the rest. Let’s face it, the world is littered with boring and pretentious people spewing stream-of-conscious drivel into their laptops, uploading it to the digital world and calling themselves broadcasters. Josh and Chuck, erstwhile hosts of ‘Stuff You Should Know,’ are NOT these people. Instead, they’re Riggs and Murtaugh meet Gifford and Cosell by way of Ernst & Young, self-deprecating wisecrackers that are as entertained and amused by the subject at hand as the audience. And always with fascinating statistics.

This is what makes ‘Stuff You Should Know’ so uniquely appealing. The tag team approach to their research means the hosts are as apt to be surprised by the subject matter as their listeners. So, whatever geeky question enters your head is probably in theirs, too. That nerdy chuckle you’re stifling is being shared by one or both of the hosts. They’re just like you - well, if you’re at all like me – and the half hour you spend together will make you feel amongst kindred spirits.

So, embrace that part of you still loves of old James Bond movies, rekindle the childish spirit that stares wide-eyed in the Air&Space Museum and download a few of the episodes. ‘Stuff You Should Know’ is at least stuff you should try.

The Billionaire’s Vinegar – Benjamin Wallace

In Paperback from Amazon.com for $10.17

Buy it if: You feel like living vicariously (and viniculturally) through those who consider an ’82 Haut-Brion young and affordable

Don’t buy it if: You consider anything beyond $9 Yellow Tail Shiraz an overpriced extravagance… Or if you happen to own a $27,000 1899 Chateau d’Yquem of questionable provenance!

As with wine, there are a half dozen different reasons a reader could enjoy The Billionaire’s Vinegar. Or dislike it for that matter. Though named for what was, at the time, the most expensive bottle of wine ever purchased, the subject is really much broader than that. And author Benjamin Wallace spends 300+ pages delving into the many twisted and deceptive paths that ancient wines tread before they are ever actually uncorked. For these treasures are not simply bottled, cataloged and placed in a cellar to await someone with money to burn and a fancy corkscrew. Instead they are squirreled away, traded at auction, packed across continents or – if your faith remains by the end of the book – buried in hidden cellars around Paris and the rest of the world.

The titular 1787 'Thomas Jefferson' Lafite purchased by Malcom Forbes is actually only one of a host of antique wines to make an appearance. While it may be the quintessential example of how much some fabulously wealthy collectors are willing to shell out for a piece of drinkable history ($156,450 for those keeping score…) it is only one of dozens that protagonist Harry Rodenstock – who displays apparent Indiana Jones-like veracity in unearthing these bottled treasures – sold over the course of a decade and a half. Some show up at hedonistic tasting dinners that would make Robin Leach blush, while others find their way to the auction blocks of Christie’s and Sotheby’s or directly into the cellars of the super-rich. But by the midway point of the book it is obvious that all are tainted by the stench of suspicion.

As with the best mysteries, fiction or otherwise, it’s the characters in The Billionaire’s Vinegar that move it beyond a simple question of ‘is it or isn’t it.’ From Rodenstock’s shifty dealings, to lauded wine expert-cum-unwitting-accomplice Michael Broadbent's spearheading of auctions, Wallace includes a number of personalities in the wine world’s quest to discover (or remain blissfully ignorant of) the true origins of these ultra-rare bottles. By the conclusion, a Jefferson historian, carbon-dating expert and eccentric publisher will all have joined the fray. Though I’d venture to say the book’s greatest failing is its inability to offer a definite conclusion, the immensely deep and varied cast more than makes up for it.

Fair warning, before the book's end you will almost certainly be tempted to visit your local merchant with a Bordeaux-laden shopping list, if only to get a taste for the modern version of the treasures discussed. But it will be well worth it. The biggest fringe benefit of Wallace’s volume is a deepened appreciation for the history, craftsmanship and mystique inherent to the world’s most important wine region. So pour a glass, sniff deeply, sip and enjoy a pastime shared with monarchs, tycoons and presidents. Even those of us with modest means may take pleasure in the simple joys of good wine and a well-told story.

Sum – David Eagleman

Buy it if: You find the phrase ‘philosophical, open-minded ponderer’ invigorating. Or have a very short attention span.

Skip it if: You are simply uninterested in hearing about more than one version of the afterlife.

Is heaven little more than a voyeuristic cinema starring the living? Are we condemned to purgatory until every earthbound human soul that recalls our names dies? Will the afterlife contain only those people that we had living interactions with? Perhaps the world is populated by both the living and the dead, with only the deceased aware of the distinction? My friends, David Eagleman provides the following answers: Yes, yes, yes and…yes.

In a brilliant demonstration of inventive perception, Eagleman’s Sum offers forty – Forty! – different hypotheses about what really happens after we slip from this mortal coil. Though they range from wildy inventive to relatively introspective, each description (they’re not really stories) is wholly engrossing and quite neatly bundles its unique explanation in a succinct burst of prose. There’s a theory that portrays the entire human race as nodes in a giant calculation machine while another posits that heavenly entry is divined by committee. None are exceptionally close to a ‘traditional’ view, but many pull from common themes like a divine creator or the sorting of souls between heaven and hell.

Others are a bit more on the edge. One passage mentions casually that God used to keep a home on Earth (a beach house on the Med, naturally) but eventually stopped visiting once he found his time was being unduly monopolized by his creations. Yet another holds that upon death the world appears much the same - minus the crowds -since your afterlife holds only souls that crossed paths with you during your time amongst the living.

Most notably, each of these pieces is short. Like, really short. Somehow, the author manages to create, explain and convince in only two or three pages. It’s a remarkable show of literary efficiency that is matched only by the book’s creativity. The forty different chapters are not separated by shades of difference or varied slants on a philosophy, they are each wholly different. With a depth of ideas that I can only compare to Kurt Vonnegut, the author will almost certainly leave you in a similar state at the end of each one. For me it was a muttered ‘hmmm’ accompanied by the hint of a smile and brief look around my own living (I assume!) world as I wondered about the possibility of this description being true.

And that’s the crux of the book. With all due respect to my readership’s personal beliefs, I have to assume the afterlife remains a mystery to us all. (If you have some inside info, PLEASE get back to me ASAP!) So, though some of the included sections may seem more ‘plausible’ than others, it’s quite interesting to realize that – empirically speaking – each has about the same likelihood of being possible. It’s a guarantee that at least a few of the stories contained within will give you pause and bring a smile to your face. Even more fun, the book is thinner than your worn out copy of Ramona Quimby and can be easily enjoyed in both small sips and big gulps.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I’m obviously I’m sidestepping the religious implications attached to any book about the afterlife…that’s because I want you to keep reading my reviews! This book is nothing more than a collection of words on a page meant provoke thought, which it does quite nicely. That – plus the fact that the paperback edition measures less than a half-inch thick – makes me certain that most or all of you can find a spot for it on your bookshelf.

Under the Dome - Stephen King

Now available in paperback from Amazon at only $11.69


Buy it if: Your shelves are already lined with well thumbed copies of The Stand and The Shining


Don't Buy it if: You prefer your modern fiction to come complete with pouty vampires and teenage werewolves. This scariest thing here the realism of the villains.


A good premise can get you halfway to a great story, and I’ve always been of the opinion that Stephen King is at his best when he drops a cadre of interesting personalities into a not-so-everyday occurrence. For The Stand it was a global super plague, The Shining had an alcoholic snowed in for months, and with Cujo it was the simply frightening vision rabid dog guarding a car that wouldn’t start.


A seamless, invisible and unbreachable wall suddenly separating a small, rural town from the rest of world? I’m listening. What? You mean that town also happens to be inhabited by corrupt selectmen, deranged teenagers, a meth cooking junkie and one infantryman-turned-short order cook? I’m in.


Under The Dome, not surprisingly, has been gestating in Stephen King’s mind for decades, and was conceived around the same time period of some of his most compelling writing. Though the majority of the narrative was completed recently, the ‘classic’ hallmarks are all present. (Including the odd sadness for the reader that comes from realizing that 1088 pages is too short!) Because, while the prospect of an invisible wall that cuts you off from the rest of humanity is undeniably scary, the true horror stems from the people trapped by the unbreakable curtain.


This is a common theme for the author, that human beings can easily outstrip the atrocities of the supernatural. And while not overtly political, he does well to demonstrate the egregious effects of the small town mentality. No doubt every one of you ‘knows’ at least one of characters, probably more. Anyone who’s sat in on a municipal council meeting or gone to see the board of education will relate to big egos in small towns – and the frightening thirst for power that can fester there. Watching the personalities unfold in the aftermath of an unprecedented event – you know, like a huge, invisible dome encapsulating a town – is a fictional chemistry experiment that is probably closer to reality than we’d like to admit.


The town of Chester’s Mill may not exist. And as far as I know, invisible walls are fairly uncommon as well. But there’s still enough realism here to scare the hell out of you with regard to the humanity of our fellow citizens. Don’t believe me? Next time you’re out and about in your hometown, have a look around at the most unsavory characters you can find, the kind that lurk around the corners of polite society and at the top of local politics. Then imagine a giant dome trapping you together indefinitely, with no hope of escape or intervention. Under the Dome offers a glimpse into what is a thrilling touch of horror indeed.

King's Gambit - Paul Hoffman

On Sale(!) at Amazon - $9.98


Buy it if: 'Searching for Bobby Fischer' is your all time favorite movie


Don't But it if: You want a light collection of chess vignettes to discuss at cocktail parties.

I may be the world’s worst chess player. I mean, I haven’t played against nearly enough other crappy players to confirm this, but I suspect that it’s at least a possibility. Perhaps I lack the patience to study it, the will to seek out help or simply a brain that is wired with circuitry even mildly suited for the challenge. No matter the reason, I suck.

But for those in the world who do not, the draw of competitive chess seems to be remarkably strong, with the best players also subject to some very harsh bouts of living. It’s ironic that such physical and mental strain could be exacted by a metaphorical battle, a symbolic aggression between wooden pieces. And yet, Paul Hoffman’s King’s Gambit makes a strong case for the sincere and serious nature of this ‘game.’

In a style recalling wine writer Natalie Maclean, Hoffman places historical narratives within the context of personal anecdotes. Himself a very strong player, he is hardly an outsider when it comes to studying/playing/writing chess. Doubtless many readers will share my conclusion that – given his druthers – the author might have preferred a career of chess greatness to any other. But just as great sportswriters are often culled from failed athletes, Hoffman’s relative lack of success on the square board may have been precisely what led him to this volume.

Rest assured, however, that a thorough knowledge of the game is hardly a prerequisite. While being able to at least envision a few basic chess moves might get you going a bit faster in the beginning, even those amongst you who remain completely ignorant of the pastime will not find yourself struggling to understand complex lingo or chess vernacular. If anything, those with a thorough chess knowledge may find some explanations a bit remedial, though none are nearly long-winded enough to really bog down the writing.

And the writing is interesting, if perhaps a little thematically scattered. Admittedly, I tend to favor books that feature a few interwoven narratives tied together with common themes and denominators, but in this case Hoffman may have tried to shoehorn a bit too much, with the overall theme a minor casualty. From the brief history of chess to the intrigue at the modern championship level, from the lives of journeymen players to a big glance at the lineage of the world championship, there was more than enough to fill the pages. Sadly, the addition of his own memoirs and tenuously placed vignettes about his relationship with his father seemed a bit superfluous and forced. Not altogether uninteresting, but it reminded me of those tests you take in elementary school where four objects are grouped together and you’re asked to pick the odd one out. In this case, the father/son tale just didn't fit.

But though this slant detracts from the book overall, it's still loaded with fascinating tidbits. From the personal intensity of Gary Kasparov to the oddball names of popular ‘openings’ – ‘King’s Gambit,’ ‘Queen’s Indian’ – there is quite the smorgasbord a pure trivia interlaced with characters that seem to have wandered off the pages of a Chuck Palahniuk novel. For those looking for an easy read to wander away with, Kings Gambit might be a little too scattered and intense, but if you feel like putting in a bit of work, you could be rewarded with a very large portion of fascinating facts about the ‘Game of Kings.’ It’s not for everyone, but then, neither is chess itself.

Self – Yann Martel

$9.21 from Amazon.com

Buy it if: You want to like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but the magic carpets are too much. You need something off-kilter…but just a little.

Don’t Buy it if: You’re expecting Life of Pi 2.

I’m big on story, no point denying it. Quick dialog, action moving forward, things happening… Personally, I believe these are the things that suck you into a good book, that give you an portable escape from the real world. Wordy descriptions, emotional landscapes, prose that borders on poetry? These are all things I can admire, but you will rarely find them on my own bookshelves. And if you do, there’s a very good chance they will be adorned with a fine layer of dust.

But I do occasionally give up my pulp for a turn with the slightly highbrow crowd and in this instance it’s led to Yann Martel’s Self. Best known for the surprisingly popular Life of Pi, Martel first struck out – in novel form at least - with this ‘fictional autobiography.’ OK, not an insanely odd slant, I’ll admit. Then again, did I mention that early on in the book the character changes sex? Not on purpose, not in a Transamerica way. Instead it just sort of...happens. It seems even a book that veers so far from being plot-driven can derive its principle twist from that most basic writer’s question: What if…

And indeed, that’s a big what if. Certainly one that’s been tackled by Hollywood ad nauseam. The Hot Chick, Switch…the list goes on. (Admit it, you can think of at least three more that you’ve seen. And probably liked. It’s OK,, you’re among friends.) Yet Martel doesn’t dwell on pragmatism - quite the opposite in fact - choosing to treat the odd occurrence as a progression of life. Unexpected? Perhaps. But not shattering nor untenable. If anything, the unique change in perspective allows the author freedom to rove through male and female emotion and perspective, which is really what makes the heart of the book. Situations and interactions may catalyze the thoughts, but the thoughts themselves form the meat of the novel.

For some, this may actually be where the books falls down. If you’re hoping for a ‘tale,’ for one happening to cause another and so forth, there’s a good chance Martel is going to let you down. Even the character actions that do make it to the page are relatively droll and mundane. However, if you’re looking for crafted prose that feels a bit like poetry deconstructed and placed into the framework of a narrated philosophy, perhaps Self will provide you with the necessary means for temporary distraction. (Here’s a hint: If you found that last sentence wildly pretentious, you should probably delete this selection from your Amazon shopping cart right now.)

The joys to be found here are in Martel’s precise and well-placed wording, his very sculpted questioning of experience. Despite being a thin paperback written by a bestselling author, this is not reading to be approached lightly. If you are only searching for mild distraction with unimportant details, the pages contained within will prove ever-frustrating. But if you take pleasure in the sentence savoring and the mild euphoria of confusion that can result from unexpected perspectives, this one may be worth the risk…

The Boys of Winter - Wayne Coffey

$10.04 at Amazon.com

Buy it if: You love a well-told story, especially when it’s true. Or you’re from Minnesota.

Don’t Buy it if: Your reaction to Miracle: “That was boring, I already knew the ending…”

It’s tough not to be a sucker for a good, underdog sports story. Rocky, Invincible… Even Major League fits the bill to a degree. But a good story only gets you halfway to a good book. It’s the writing that brings you home. The Boys of Winter should be a familiar story to some – probably most – of you reading. ‘The Miracle on Ice’ is certainly one of the most-referenced sports moments in history, so what new can be added? And how does one tell a tale most readers already know?

In reality, this book probably contains little, if any, new information about the 1980 US Olympic Hockey team. Winter sports aficionados and ice hockey buffs will not be enthralled by previously undiscovered facts. The names and faces will certainly be familiar to anyone who had a drivers license by 1983. And is there anyone who doesn’t know who won the 1980 USSR vs. USA match up in Lake Placid?! Still, Wayne Coffey delivers nearly essential reading with excellent prose on three fronts: The sport, the player and the game.

The Sport:

For those who don’t know a blue line from a crease, not to worry…no necessary term is left undefined, no insider hockey knowledge is required. Coffey does an excellent job of describing techniques, scoring, etc without overwhelming or leaving a reader in the dark. It’s fine line to walk, but he pulls it off consistently.

The Players:

From legendary (and legendarily feared) Herb Brooks to enigmatic Jim Craig, the author weaves the backstories of the men on the 1980 roster (and a few who were left off) in and out of the narrative throughout the book. It’s not an uncommon technique for historical storytelling, but Coffey executes it uncommonly well. These are fascinating men, brought together from remarkably different walks of life. Placing each story into the context of the whole brings a surprising amount of depth to a book that covers a year of development and competition in only 272 pages.

The Game:

Anyone with ears, eyes and the ability to understand sports can tell you where they were when the US beat the Russians. (I was being Christened. No, I don’t remember it, but I know because everyone else that was there does.) Sportswriting is hard enough when the game is fresh in everyone’s mind, but the ‘Miracle on Ice’ was over a quarter of a century ago. And you know – unless you’re a complete moron – how the big showdown turns out. That Coffey can write this latest account and keep a reader so excited, so intrigued with the intricacies and details of what actually made the game what it was, is a testament to his skill as storyteller. Like the race scenes in Seabiscuit, the words draw you in to the past so much so that it feels present, something much easier said than done.

There are probably dozens of books more detailed, more technical or simply more intense than The Boys of Winter. But for those of you that missed it – or those you who want to relive its simple joy and excitement – I can’t imagine you’d find a better vehicle than this. The worn and wrinkled pages of my own copy stand witness to my belief that this is easily one of the best sports books ever written.

You Or Someone Like You - Chandler Burr

$17.15 in Hardcover from Amazon.com

Buy it if: Your tastes veer towards The Economist, Wall Street Journal and Vanity Fair

Don’t Buy it if: You’re more apt to enjoy People, Us Weekly and USA Today

Moving between genres is not an ability gifted to all artists. For every Springsteen, juxtaposing stadium anthems with coffeehouse ballads, there’s a Jewel, abandoning much-loved fem-folk for poorly received dance tracks. (In fairness, I really liked 0304, but I may be the only one…) Having been enamored with non-fictional The Perfect Scent, I waded into Chandler Burr’s first novel with a bit of reserve. ‘Apprehensive optimism’ seemed the wisest approach to You or Someone Like You.

Overtly, the book weaves a trio of narratives through a pseudo-realistic Hollywood backdrop. (Real people populate the story, but their words and actions are a fabrication of the author. For readers of Variety, this may prove a touch disconcerting.)

The surface storylines of professional success, gay self-realization and religious awakening are all articulated by a single narrator, the only character whose dialogue remains oddly unpunctuated as such. (To be honest, I can’t decide if this is a plus or minus, but it doesn’t hurt the story either way.) And while I certainly can’t comment on the accuracy of a gay, American man writing in first person as a straight, English woman, I can say it certainly feels real…

If the above were the totality of the book, it would be decent, and relatively easy to classify. It would be of a ‘type’ of fiction that is popular enough, if not the sort of thing I’d usually seek out. But there’s a catch. A stealth literary nerdiness permeates the writing. Obvious emotional description is eschewed or hidden within citations from authors like W.H. Auden or William Blake. The Hollywood book club that serves as the story’s biggest catalyst is also a sly invite to explore classic literature yourself, a crafty wink and nudge reminding you there’s more to those dusty volumes than you might have gleaned from your sophomore lit class… Double points to Burr for actually interesting me in Edith Wharton.

Of course, some may take umbrage with the free use of Hollywood’s power figures, but they serve the book well as props in a dissection of an LA dynamic that Burr really nails. The arc of fame, from obscurity to necessity to exclusivity to abandoned notoriety is remarkably in tune with the lifespan of west coast fads. (Though I wouldn’t go around quoting J.J. Abrams’ take on Bronte, it was the dude’s doppleganger, people.) It’s easy to point a reader towards the religious and romantic themes, but the grasping of Hollywood culture is the book’s unique gem. Entourage explained through Yeats. I know how that sounds, but it works.

Its very likely some readers won’t stick with the story beginning to end. It’s a quality read, but the density requires a little extra mental digestion. (It’s the rich cheesecake to Candace Bushnell’s spun sugar and whipped cream.) I do believe those who come through to the end deserve a little more credit than the explain-everything-you-might-not-understand ending, but it’s minor stylistic bump. And there are a few teasing subplots that may leave an attentively curious reader wanting. (It’s not Lost-esque frustration, J.J., but maybe some of these side stories could have been trimmed from the final draft…)

No doubt, You or Someone Like You packs a lot into just over 300 pages. Burr has a lot to say – ‘agenda’ wouldn’t be a wholly inappropriate word – but the story provokes thought in the best way, through empathy and entertainment. It’s decidedly not a bit of light beach reading, but the attention required to immerse yourself in the characters’ world is justly rewarded. Modern fiction via classic literature, LA lifestyles interpreted with New York sensibilities. It makes you think, and that’s a good thing…

The Cure – Geeta Anand

$10.87 in paperback from Amazon.com

Buy it if: You TiVo Lifetime movies and don’t mind ‘dramatic reenactments’

Don’t Buy it if: You’re still annoyed that people believe The Perfect Storm is factual…

Real life medical drama? Good. Happened in New Jersey? I’m interested. Pulitzer Prize-winning author? That’s gotta be some kick-ass prose. Made into a big Hollywood movie? Perfect. The book is always better, right?

Such were my thoughts when I picked up Geeta Anand’s The Cure, complete with “The Book that Inspired…” medallion emblazoned on the cover. I had high hopes for the story of John Crowley, a Georgetown, Notre Dame and Harvard grad who turned the full weight of his resume, connections and unbelievably-sized confidence towards finding a treatment for Pompe disease, an extremely rare condition that afflicted two of his three children. Even marginally well-written, such a book should make you feel warm and fuzzy at worst, completely drawn into a fascinating world of medical research, financing and corporations at best.

Yet, as I moved through The Cure, arranged chronologically from the birth of John’s children through the inevitable screenplay, I felt a disquieting disappointment. I’ve been turned off by books before, but I was unable to put my finger on the cause. And that’s when I realized that the book doesn’t have a major problem, it has several minor ones, the summation of which make for reading that I found relatively distasteful, given the potential of the subject matter.

In terms of facts, the book gives the appearance of being well researched. Dates and locations are all noted, corporate financial structures are well defined (though without much given beyond round and vague numbers, raising a minor red flag.) You’d be forgiven for believing that a book authored by a Wall Street Journal reporter would be beyond reproach. However, the footnotes section reads like a full chapter of caveats. Half of the notes begin “Dialogue and details based on interview with…” and then cite the person involved. This is not to say the book is untrue or even near to it…but to have so much information gleaned from interviews with the subject of a recreated scene… You would be not be unwise to approach such recollections with some concern about bias.

Similarly, the prose itself goes a little too far into the dramatic, with a great deal of recreated dialogue and interaction that simply can’t be accepted as completely accurate. People misremember all the time. It’s not a weakness, it’s simply a facet of human existence. My problem with The Cure is that the text itself offers almost no caveat to this effect and very little is borne out of printed and reported facts that may be verified. The book seems to lean heavily on creating a good story while playing a little fast and loose with confirmed facts. It’s the kind of thing you expect from a Hollywood blockbuster that begins with a screen reading “The Following is Based on Actual Events.”

Including a description of John Crowley’s wife Aileen in a ‘low-cut top that tastefully accentuated her ample cleavage’ leads me to believe the author was envisioning this story as a drama to be played out on the page. The result is forced. Again and again Anand tries to heighten the tale with internal emotions and assumption of reason and it feels out of place with the objectivity the subject matter deserves. Leave the ‘ample cleavage’ to the pages of fiction, I’ll happily good money to read about it there!

The remaining issue may actually be a bit of a backhanded compliment: John Crowley is hardly a sympathetic protagonist. He has many failings, arrogance and huge conflicts of interest that lead to questions about the ethical standards to which he holds himself. And yet judgment is left to the reader, or perhaps, ultimately, to an authority far higher. For this, Anand should be commended. It would have been easier (and far more ‘option friendly’) to sugarcoat a few of Crowley’s questionable methods and lapses, but they are all here. It does a lot to resolve questions of integrity, even if it’s not enough to completely erase the book’s shortcomings.

Overall, unless you have a specific interest in this case, I would say The Cure deserves a pass. With the film version having already come and gone from theaters (though I didn’t see it) you might be better served by simply adding ‘Extraordinary Measures’ to your Netflix queue and enjoying a dramatization that is actually billed as such.

Space - Jamer Michener, Our Town - Thornton Wilder

Space – James Michener

$7.99 at Amazon.com

You’ll love it: Reading isn’t a pastime for you, it’s a mission.

You’ll hate it: James Michener? Thanks, but I already have a 4 lb doorstop.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: James Michener? The guy with fictional time spans of thousands of years and can’t be followed without taking notes?! Yes, that guy. The scourge of tree conservationists everywhere. But if you haven’t made an attempt at a Michener book, perhaps this is the year to do it. And for perennial members of the Lonely Hearts Club like me, the best books - intimidatingly long or not - are companions that never let you down.

Of course, reviewing even a lesser-known Michener book like Space is a bit like giving a stamp of approval to Beethoven’s 6^th symphony. Even in relative obscurity, chances are it’s still head and shoulders above average. This is no exception. The sweeping vistas of fiction are all here (and remarkably not far from reality, especially given the technical nature of science fiction) as are the multitude of characters and the density of the prose you’ve come to expect from the man.

But this is a Valentine’s Day mini-review, and as such I’d like to point out that for a novel named after a frigid vacuum, you’d be hard-pressed to find a modern love story like the one between Captain John Pope and his wife, Penny. Though it takes up only a small percentage of a goodish length book (OK, its 800 pages…but by Michener standards, a trifle) it’s written with a very knowing hand. We’re so inundated with stories of failed military marriages, populated by philanderer husband, alcoholic wife, rebellious children…getting to know this pair is a heartwarming experience. The dedication of two humans to each other through periods of long separation, dangerous missions and all that other “The Right Stuff”….well, stuff, is enough to resonate with a cynical heart. In some ways, the realities of the romance make it even more so.

I realize no amount of hearts and candy can turn someone into a Michener fan. Like very dry wine, Marmite or atonal music, he can be an acquired taste. But it’s enough for me to point out that in the most unlikely of spots - should you feel in the mood for a panoramic tome - you might find one of the most touching love stories put down in print.

Our Town – Thornton Wilder

$13.59 at Amazon.com

You’ll love it: You love classic American theater, have a short attention span or are hopelessly romantic

You’ll hate it: You think plays are for sissies.

There are only three books that I always have within arm’s reach: Welcome to the Monkey House, The Stand, and Our Town. Technically, Our Town isn’t even a book. It’s a play. And a short one at that. But this is my Super Nerdy Review so I can include Thornton Wilder’s ascetic masterpiece if I want.

In all likelihood, most of you have already ready this at some point in high school. (Well, at least those of you who are American…) and have perhaps even seen it performed. But there’s also an excellent chance that you were told to read it…and there is nothing that preemptively kills literary joy faster than making it a required assignment. So perhaps it is time to revisit Grover’s Corner and see what you may have missed the first time around.

I know I run the risk of coming off as impossibly starry-eyed, but there certainly is something comforting in this small town love story. I mean, come on, Wilder manages to narrate one-third of the story with a non-existent near-deity and another third with people that are – essentially – zombies. Yet, all seems well and normal, so easy is it to get lost in a town where strawberry phosphates are still drawn from a fountain and childhood sweethearts marry and move just down the road from their parents.

But I contend that you, the modern reader with a buzzing Blackberry and reruns of the Bachelorette on your TiVo, would do well to remember that a lot of people are seeking a storyline not far removed from this one at all. It’s no simpler than the real world, but it does manage to distill the complexity of the human experience into what really matters. Our Town has it all: life, death, love and loss, all conveyed with nothing but a bit of dialogue and stage direction. It can (and probably should) be read in one sitting, by yourself or maybe even with someone else. Pick up a copy, pour yourself some coffee or red wine and travel to a place that might feel more familiar then you’d expect. Oh, and tell them I said ‘Hello,’ and will be visiting again shortly.

On Writing - Stephen King

$7.99 from Amazon.com

Extra Super Nerdy Distinction: Gilbert Lowell

Buy it if: You like writing. Or you like reading. Or Stephen King, America and apple pie. Basically...buy it.

Don't buy it if: Nicholas Sparks is your literary highwater mark.

To my knowledge, Mickey Mantle never conducted a hitting clinic, Bob Dylan doesn’t hold songwriting seminars and Tiger Woods…well a private session with him probably won’t do much to improve your golf score. Rare indeed is the possessor of world class skill that also commands the ability to distill their methods and approach into digestible instruction. It’s one thing to create a masterpiece, quite another to explain how its done.

With On Writing, Stephen King didn’t set out to retread instruction that was long ago conveyed by Strunk and White (though he does endorse their seminal Elements of Style as something every aspiring author should possess.) A delineated manual this is not. Lacking formal structure, the book is loosely grouped into two sections: autobiographical and instructional. And while it’s difficult to say which is more fascinating, the informal writing neatly camouflages an academic foundation. In other words, this is way more fun than you standard textbook. Cheaper, too!

The ‘memoir’ section, though exceptionally brief by Stephen King standards, offers an amazingly candid look at the life of the author. From his innocent childhood plagiarism of Edgar Allan Poe to the creation of his first published novel, it’s a deeply revealing look at the long (and humble) road to life as one of America’s most popular novelists. Carrie was inspired by his time spent as a janitor, then rescued from the trash bin (!) by his wife. True story.

The story of his personal journey parallels the professional one. A fatherless childhood of poverty is quite frankly discussed, not skimping on the gritty reality of working an industrial laundry while penning short stories for the ‘titty mags’ in the back of a rented trailer. And the chapters on the struggles of recovery from alcohol and drug addiction are, in my opinion, some of the finest writing the man has ever produced. His simple, yet profound, explanation of the addict’s mind is superior to almost any literature on the subject I’ve ever encountered. Genuine, heartfelt and riveting, it’s a shame that something so applicable and well-written will find such a relatively limited audience.

If On Writing contained only this all-too-brief biography I would still recommend it wholeheartedly, at nearly any price. But for those who continue on to the ‘instructional’ section, King offers as fascinating – and eminently useful – look at the gritty process of crafting a story in words. (And then getting people to pay for it! Something I’m still working on…)

In a rare show of brevity, the author doesn’t give much advice on grammar, structure and form. What he does include are pragmatic and deceptively simply tips for aspiring writers. Paper clip your submissions, a rewrite should cut 10% from the first draft, ignore the fallacy of the muse… It’s a slice of blue-collar academia that is a refreshing departure from the ivory tower…and tough to argue when you consider the writer has few earthly rivals in the popularity department.

For all readers, Stephen King fans or not, there is much enjoyment to be had from this book. Its only downfall is length. I'm quite certain you will find yourself wishing the prose would stretch out beyond its 289 pages. But On Writing will fill even the dullest reader with an urge to touch pen to paper for the creation of literature. It trulys makes you want to write…whether you should or not is another matter. Either way, be you an aspiring author or simply one of King’s ‘Constant Readers,’ this book is an investment that will stand up to many repeated readings. I would tell you how many I’m on, but I lost count a long time ago.

Night of Thunder - Stephen Hunter

$9.99 in (oddly tall) paperback from Amazon.com

Buy it if: You're not ashamed to read with endorsements like "Set your sights on fun!" printed on the back...

Don’t buy it if: You think good fiction is always comprised of things that could happen, but simply haven’t.

I’ve put off reviewing any Stephen Hunter books for some time, mainly because it’s a bit embarrassing to admit I read them. They are essentially comic books minus the graphic illustrations of rippling muscles, big guns and bloody fights…but that doesn’t mean they’re not fun.

Night Of Thunder is the latest paperback installment in the Bob Lee Swagger ‘saga,’ which began with the thriller Point of Impact (later adapted for the silver screen as ‘Shooter,' starring ‘Marky’ Mark Wahlberg) For the highbrow Clancy fans out there, Bob Lee is Hunter’s backwoods Jack Ryan. (Though with a WAY better name. Hunter is a master of unabashed nomenclature whose talent reaches its zenith in The Day After Midnight with character ‘Dick Puller.’ Whoa.) Like Ryan, he's both improbable and invulnerable, but a bit more self-effacing and…lovable.

Why ‘lovable?’ Well, somehow Hunter has managed to create a ruthless, coldblooded Special Ops sniper from Arkansas and imbue him with a Berkley liberal’s sense of social justice. Swagger, a self-proclaimed hick from the mountains with too many guns and a rockin' redneck accent also manages to have equal visions of all races, orientations, sexes and religions. He's the ACLU with .50 caliber rifle. Forget the bullets dodged and single-handed battles fought...this is the book's biggest stretch of the imagination.

But that’s not to say the rest of the story is easy to swallow. By the time Night of Thunder rolls around, Bob is many years removed from the Vietnam war that barely precluded his first appearance in print. He’s older, he’s slower and has long since gone gray, yet somehow always manages to be nimble in a fight and faster on the draw than ever. I thought Hunter might have maxed out his audience's willingness to believe when he let Bob Lee outduel a samurai master (yes, I’m serious) in his previous book, but this most recent volume seems to be even less encumbered by an adherence to realism.

Still, though this admission may actually force Georgetown to request my degree in English literature back, I loved it. I love them all. I love every single ridiculous adventure. And it almost makes sense. Superman's always been a favorite of mine, too, and I wouldn’t exactly call him the pinnacle of factual writing. So why not Bob Lee? If you can’t set aside the world for a bit and escape into an adventure with almost no grounding in the physical constraints of nature, ignorance of time's inescapable hand and a general flouting of statistical probability... Well, gee, you’re missing out on more than I or Stephen Hunter can provide. Maybe a little Bob Lee Swagger would do you some good.

Reading the OED – Ammon Shea

$5.58 at Amazon.com

Buy it if: You are feeling temporarily nerdy

Don’t buy it if: You’ve always shunned the reference section of the library

Despite being osculable, I am still subtrist, but nothing gets me going in the morning like a good pandiculation. And now I finally have the vocabulary to say it.

There may not be a more exhaustive work of academia in the modern world than the Oxford English Dictionary. (The definition of ‘Yet’ runs 60,000 words, 13,000 more than the The Great Gatsby.) Compared to the relatively miniscule collegiate dictionary you had sitting on your desk in high school, the OED is a monstrosity of wordage. Weighing in a 150 pounds and spread out over 20 volumes, it would doubtless strain any study surface upon which it was placed.

But for Ammon Shea, a habitual reader of dictionaries (I know, and you thought I was super nerdy…) it wasn’t simply enough to keep this dictionary for reference. So, like a stodgy and sedate version of Julie (Julie and Julia) Powell, he set out to read his way through the entire ‘book.’ All 21,730 pages of it.

The result is Reading the OED, a mini-memoir about the task, divided into 26 chapters, one for each letter of the alphabet. Each section is headed by a few pages about his actual experience, followed by a smattering of ‘selected’ (interesting, obscure or generally kooky) words from the OED, with each word being redefined and commented upon by the author.

My one wish for the book is that Shea would have chosen to simply focus on one approach or the other. Unfortunately, neither is fully explored…and either by itself would have made for far more compelling reading. Shea’s narrative is actually very humorous, detailing things like his massive coffee addiction, the curmudgeonly demeanor he affects en route to becoming a library dweller and the gradual decline of his vision. His self-deprecating style strikes the right tone for such a task and is entertaining, but the flow is constantly interrupted by each chapter’s word list.

This isn’t to say that the lists are unwelcome. In fact, Shea could probably make a go of being a professional satirist. The selections encompass a great cross-section of obscurity and yet, remarkably, I caught myself taking notes on words for later usage. And now I know that the next time a fox robs me of something, I’ll have been vulpeculated. If Shea were to release a more thorough volume, complete with ‘redefinitions’ and commentary, I would almost certainly make the purchase. It could be a fantastic alternative abridgment .

But, in the end, the book only half-succeeds at each task. If either of my imagined volumes were in the works by the author, I’d say hold out for the full-length memoir or ‘Shea-ized’ OED…but since it seems doubtful either are in the publishing pipeline, Reading the OED might be an appropriate alternative for someone with a passing interest in the subject. It’s a very fast read and – at 149 ½ pounds less than the original source material – far more suitable for airline travel.

Trizophrenia – Jef Mallett

$14.93 at Amazon.com

Buy if if: You or a loved one is on the fence about competing in a triathlon and wants a push towards the affirmative

Don’t buy it if: You’re a hardcore wattage junkie who only cares about things like rolling resistance and the relative merits of a 79 degree STA.

Best known as the author of Frazz, a Calvin & Hobbes-meets-Zits-meets-Tour de France-style comic strip, Jef Mallett, a longtime triathlete himself, takes a stab at explaining the oddities, perversities and general weirdness inherent not just to triathletes, but triathlons themselves. Equal parts sports memoir, how-to guide and sermon, Trizophrenia is a light-hearted look at what is – almost unbelievably – one of the fastest growing sports in America.

Neatly divided into three parts (with more than a bit of overlap between them) the book offers a look at what makes a triathlete, what makes a triathlon and the essential (and existential) experience that is the meeting of the two on the field of competition… And he makes fart jokes. In short, this might actually be the most comprehensive book on the sport since The Triathlete’s Training Bible.

Of course, being comprehensive in less than 200 pages (of which a 1/3 are filled with illustrations and excessively copious, but still very humorous, footnotes of digression) provides little in the way of details. Basically, if you’re looking for FTP testing protocols and/or interval workouts, you need to move on to something both bulkier and more narrowly focused. But if you’re feeling intimidated about an approaching first race or simply looking for that last bit of motivation, Mallett nails it. His self-effacing style transforms the daunting into the accessible. As a theme, Trizophrenia is book-length paraphrase of a medical school adage: “What do you call the last finisher? A triathlete.”

Not that the book’s acceptance of all comers will turn off the hardcore racers out there. It may even help mediate some of the do-or-die-or-I’m-worthless vibe that seems to permeate the uber-serious elite ranks. The author is an amateur athlete and professional writer, but he’s quick to remind readers that fun in each is not dependent on levels of success. Plus, as a bonus gem, Mallett’s wife contributes an afterword on being the spouse/support crew/#1 fan of a triathlete that is almost worth the price of admission on its own.

Ironman or Ironwuss, this one’s worth a read.