Don’t Read This Book Before Bed!

For me, some of Stephen King’s best work is found in his novellas.  His latest collection of long short stories—Full Dark, No Stars—is another strong outing.

The book opens with “1922″ (a central year in the story’s plot), a confession written by Wilfred James, a Nebraska farmer guilty of murdering his wife.  Galled by the fact that his wife wants to sell the farmland she inherited from her father, Wilfred convinces their son to help him murder his wife and bury her in a well behind the barn.  After the murder (which is much more gruesome than he planned), Wilf feels haunted by his wife’s spirit—and by the rats who devour her body.  (No, her spirit doesn’t really come back to the farm; in the tradition of Poe’s “Tell-Tale Heart,” the murderer’s own fear and guilt overtake him.)  “1922″ is one of the two best pieces in this collection.  King convincingly creates the feel of Dust Bowl Nebraska, he crafts a murderous main character who still appeals to the reader, and he keeps the pages flying—I won’t be surprised when this story becomes a hot Hollywood property.

In “Big Driver,” mystery writer Tess is attacked on a desolate stretch of New England highway.  In a move that owes a debt to the Jodie Foster movie The Brave One (a debt that King acknowledges in the plot of the story), Tess decides that—instead of calling the police—she will seek vengeance herself.  Especially in the second half of the story, “Big Driver” is tense, suspenseful, and filled with details that may keep you awake after you turn off the lamp.

“Fair Extension” is the shortest of the book’s four tales, and—given its thinner plot—that feels appropriate.  Dave Streeter, a middle-aged man suffering from cancer, meets a stranger alongside a quiet road (there are a lot of those in this collection!) as the sun sets.  The stranger’s last name is Elvid, and that is really all the reader needs to know; Elvid offers to cure Streeter of his cancer, but only if Streeter chooses someone else (someone he knows) to suffer in his place.  The “deal with the devil” is a classic literary motif, but King gives it his own spin as Streeter (without much guilt or discomfort) watches as his best friend’s life falls apart around him.

The final story, “A Good Marriage,” is the other top pick in this collection.  After nearly 30 years of marriage, Darcy discovers that her husband is hiding a horrible secret.  This taut thriller is the kind of story that you’ll want to read in one sitting—even though it’s 100 pages long.

King’s choice of title—Full Dark, No Stars—could not be more appropriate.  Each of these stories is dark, and each of these stories involves characters who discover darkness within themselves.  As King says in the short afterword (which is worth a few minutes after you finish “A Good Marriage”), “The stories in this book are harsh.”  Harsh but incredible!

 

Final Words from a Master

If you’ve never read Nobel laureate Jose Saramago, start with his brilliant and harrowing novel Blindness.  (And please skip the movie—it just can’t match the power of Saramago’s written word.)  Then try Death with Interruptions, his beautiful and moving meditation on what happens when Death briefly stops doing her job.  Then move on to All the Names.

The Elephant’s Journey is Saramago’s final novel.  (The Portuguese author died in June of last year.)  Set in the sixteenth century, and based on a true story, it revolves around a gift presented by King Joao of Portugal to Archduke Maximilian of Austria.  That gift is Solomon, an Indian elephant.  The book tells of the elephant’s journey—a journey through desert plains, snowy mountains, and majestic rivers—from Lisbon to Vienna.  Solomon is accompanied by Subhro (his trainer), an oxcart carrying food and water, two different battalions of soldiers (one Portuguese and one Austrian), and the archduke himself.

While the writing style of The Elephant’s Journey is unmistakably Saramago, the novel feels lighter than his usual fare.  In fact, I found myself laughing aloud at a few points while reading.  Still—as expected from Saramago—the book’s narrator takes time to ruminate on language, stories, and the human condition.  This may not be one of Saramago’s great masterpieces, but—if you’re a fan—you shouldn’t miss his final work.

 

What Kind of Friend Were You?

When Celia was eleven, her friend Djuna was abducted by a strange man in a brown car as the two walked home from school with three other friends.  At least that’s was Celia told her parents, her friends, and the police. 

Years later, waiting to cross the street to her job in downtown Chicago, Celia suddenly remembers Djuna—someone she hasn’t thought about in nearly two decades.   And Celia remembers that Djuna wasn’t abducted.  She had run into the woods on the side of the road and fallen into an abandoned well.  But because Celia and Djuna were fighting that day, Celia left her friend in the woods and fabricated the story about her abduction.

We learn all of this in just the first chapter of Myla Goldberg’s new novel, The False Friend.  When memories of Djuna and the day of her disappearance flood Celia’s mind, she decides that she has to return home and tell the truth—to her mother and father, to her childhood friends, to Djuna’s mother.  As she attempts to locate those former friends, those girls-turned-women who were walking home from school with her that day, Celia starts to learn things about her childhood self that she has long forgotten or repressed.

Goldberg’s first novel, Bee Season, is a great book about a young spelling champion (and her troubled father, mother, and brother).  Wickett’s Remedy, Goldberg’s follow-up novel about the 1918 flu epidemic, felt a little tepid to me.  The False Friend may not be quite as strong as Bee Season, but it’s pretty close.  I started this book on a Sunday evening, thinking I’d just read the first chapter or two, but I quickly found that I had made my way through the first 80 or 90 pages.  Every once in a while the prose can be a little heavy, but the thread of the story always kept me moving forward briskly.

 

Literary Fireworks

I’ve read a string of really good books recently, so it means a lot to say that An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England is the best book that I’ve read in a while!  The reviews and cover blurbs for Brock Clarke’s novel focus on the book’s humor (and it is funny!), but An Arsonist’s Guide is also thoughtful, sad (in a good way), witty, and wise.

As a teenager, Sam Pulsifer accidentally burns down the Emily Dickenson house in his home town of Amherst, Massachusetts; in the fire, two people (a tour guide and her husband, who are engaging in some amorous after-hours activity) are killed.  After a ten-year stint in a low-security prison (where he meets several bond advisors who are working on their memoirs), Sam returns home.  After a month, his parents (an English teacher and a book editor) discover that they can no longer live with him, and they send Sam off to college.  He completes his degree, meets a beautiful woman, marries, has two children, and moves to a well-manicured suburban subdivision called Camelot (really!).

A decade into his new life, though, Thomas Coleman (the son of the fire’s victims) suddenly appears on Sam’s doorstep.  Because Sam never told his wife about his past, trouble ensues.  Things only get worse when the homes of other literary notables (Edward Bellamy, Mark Twain, Robert Frost) start to go up in flames.  Naturally, the authorities believe that Sam is to blame.

An Arsonist’s Guide is a wildly entertaining ride.  At the same time, it is a thoughtful meditation on literature (Clarke is clearly not a big fan of the memoir genre or the book club trend), on the power of storytelling, on the relationship between parents and children, on the bumbler’s search for his place in life.

A love letter to books and book lovers, An Arsonist’s Guide is my new favorite gift for fellow readers.  (And don’t miss the hilarious and insightful interview between Sam Pulsifer and Brock Clarke—the protagonist and the author—at the end of the book.)