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.