Good Reads, Part 2

If Michiko Kakutani can do it, so can I.  Here's what's on my nighstand lately:

The Marriage Plot, by Jeffrey Eugenides: When a writer waits ten years between books, it’s hard to meet readers’ expectations.  Eugenides’ new book is criticized for its failure to live up to his first two novels—the inventive Virgin Suicides and Middlesex.  And it’s true: The Marriage Plot is not as original, thought provoking or beautiful as Eugenides’ earlier work, but this comparative critique doesn’t take us very far. The book is still good.  The novel chronicles the intertwined lives of three Brown graduates trying to keep love and intellectualism alive during the post-college letdown.  As in his previous novels, Eugenides once again showcases his masterful ability to capture—with dry humor and attention to detail—what it feels like to be young and lost. The book is about intellectual snobs and, as such, will appeal mostly to readers who have intimate knowledge of life on an elite college campus (certainly no one I know).  The Marriage Plot is a big, graceful novel in the finest sense: multigenerational, global and full of trial and tribulation. 

The Tiger’s Wife, by Tea Obreht: So much contemporary fiction is about dysfunctional people and their dysfunctional relationships, families and jobs.  In its attempt to capture what life is like at the beginning of the 21^st century, contemporary American fiction often fails to provide readers with the escapism for which literature is known.  Realistic fiction is a little bit too real.  24-year-old Obreht’s debut novel defies this trend by offering up a novel rife with fable, allegory and history—the Eastern European answer to magical realism.  Set in the Balkans, The Tiger’s Wife tells the story of a young doctor trying to uncover the mystery surrounding her beloved grandfather’s death.   Obreht weaves in a tale about a village haunted by a seductive tiger and another about a Deathless Man who cannot himself die but can predict the fate of others.  The darkly beautiful book is driven not by characters and their neuroses, but by a culture so foreign and magical that it’s easy to escape into Obreht’s careful storytelling.

“The Laramie Project” by Moises Kaufman and the Tectonic Theater Project:  Because most of my life is consumed with what I teach, it seems appropriate to recommend what I’m teaching.  In 1998, gay Wyoming college student Matthew Shepard was brutally murdered in what became the catalyst for the last decade’s hate crime legislation.  Immediately following the murder, members of the Tectonic Theater Project interviewed everyone associated with the incident and compiled their interviews into a play. “The Laramie Project” is a powerful exploration of hate, intolerance and the unforgettable influence of one event on a small community.  Plus, if you need a copy, I have 90.

Open City, by Teju Cole: This book isn’t about much, but it’s about something with which I’m very familiar: long walks around New York City.  The protagonist is a foreign doctor living on the Upper West Side who takes long, solo walks around the city, which afford him contemplation, introspection and interaction.  In his descriptions of Manhattan, Cole intimately captures what it feels like to live in a city that draws us in, but leaves us lonely.  Open City offers only a shred of plot, but draws readers in with nuanced description and precise observation. 

Bossypants, by Tina Fey: When this book came out, I was against it for myriad reasons, including but not limited to Fey’s theft of my memoir title.  The other reasons can be categorized under literary snobbishness.  I finally took the plunge when I got a free copy for my school’s adult book club (like, for adults, not XXX). The hype is true enough: parts of the books are literally laugh-out-loud funny.  Fey gives sage beauty advice that I found personally helpful: always wear a bra because you’ll never regret it.  Fey pieces together a coherent book from lists, scripts, drawings, fan mail and childhood stories.  Though self-deprecating at times, the reader never doubts that Fey is proud of her accomplishments and what they mean for the world of comedy. The ending is the weakpoint: a devolution into what it means to be a mother with a high-power career that reads a bit too much like a late-night diary entry.  Regardless, Bossypants is honest, funny and the perfect Subway read.