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.

Taking Woodstock - Elliot Tiber

$10.85 at Amazon.com

Buy it if: You want to a front row seat to the behind-the-scenes characters that made the first Woodstock a reality

Don't Buy it if: "Okie from Muskogee" is you personal anthem


I’m not morally opposed to reading books that have become films. The Stand and A Prayer for Owen Meaney remain my two favorite works of all time. (These and Welcome to the Monkey House… Now THERE’s a film I’d like to see!) But I think we’re all familiar with that familiar refrain: ‘…but the book is SO much better.’ And you know, that's usually true. Simon Birch is the cringe-inducing epitome of this phenomenon. But after seeing Taking Woodstock on the silver screen my curiosity was piqued. The movie was so over-the-top, with an incredible mélange of characters, that I had to know how much of the tale was artistic license. So many docu-dramas usually have more 'drama' than 'docu.' (As an aside, I wish publishers wouldn’t turn movie visuals into new book covers, it makes me feel like such a poser…)

There are probably few artistic/cultural watersheds of the Woodstock caliber, such was the impact of this concert held in upstate NY’s Catskills mountains. Free music, 500,000 or so fans, and a line up of artists that reads like the ultimate classic rock playlist. And it nearly didn’t happen.

As the story goes, the organizers of the "Woodstock Arts and Music Festival" had lost permission to hold the event in the originally slated location and with only weeks to go were scrambling for a solution. Enter Elliot Tiber, the gay son of Jewish-Russian immigrants tasked with keeping a money pit summer resort open and operating like the Bad News Bears of the Catskills. But he did happen to have a permit… For those familiar, it’s a hippie and acid version of Steven Sorrentino’s Luncheonette.

Despite my misgivings, the movie hugged the storyline faithfully and it becomes quickly apparent that the screenwriters aren’t responsible for the fantastic and outlandish characters contained therein...the 60’s are to blame. Sure enough, Tiber weaves a tale of coming out and coming of age in a time when the norm was to be anything but. His story is peppered with characters like Vilma (the strapping Marine-turned-transvestite-cum-resort security force), Mike Lang (organizer of the original and subsequent Woodstocks, who seems to literally float through a sea of chaos finding solutions to problems and dolling out payments from a huge paper sack full of cash, clad in nothing but jeans and buckskin vest) and his own Mama (a money-hoarding, untrusting hotel proprietor who charged extra for towels and refused refunds on any grounds.)

In the end, it’s tempting to paint the book as a romanticized, rose-colored version of what really went on at the end of the summer of ’69. Until you realize that, for once, real life actually was a romanticized, rose-colored version of itself for a single rainy weekend in 1969. A half-million people got together, loved each other and changed the world’s cultural landscape. It happened. Elliot Tiber helped make it happen. His story, for all it inherent idealism, is wonderfully real. That such a spirit couldn’t continue is unfortunate, but that it even existed at all is comforting in its own right. Worth a read.