Dad, I’m sorry, but I have to be honest. Sometimes when you recommend a book to me I’m a little bit leery. We’re just not always on the same wave length I guess. But hey, I know it goes both ways so I don’t feel so bad saying that. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I want to thank you for recommending this book to me. It was truly fantastic. And I’m not only saying that cause it took me all of 2 (ok, maybe 3) hours to read. Before any of you go out and buy this book (cause I know that’s what your going to do) read on and see if it’s really up your alley.

When my dad mentioned this book to me my mom was in ear shot and I think the first words out of her mouth were along the lines of “but… it’s so sentimental.” Really mom, You’re going to begrudge a book because it’s sentimental? Yep, it came as a bit of a shock to me that my mom would say that, and that my father would say that he enjoyed it. It’s not as though he doesn’t enjoy “sentimental” books, but that genre of book is a far cry from the Harlan Coban and James Patterson books he usually has stacked up on his dresser.

The truth of the matter is that it is indeed a “sentimental” book. Up until about page 146, the book is sad, depressing, heart wrenching, gut gnawing and painfully “sentimental.” Yet, it somehow recovers itself profoundly and actually has some pretty intense thought invoking moments.

The premise is pretty simple, a series of incredibly unfortunate things happen to a successful man and on the verge of his own demise he decides that he is going to take a walk. Not just your round the neighborhood jaunt but a walk that will take him from Seattle, Washington to Key West, Florida, the furthest point he can get to on foot in the US.

Keep going…

Recently my older brother, Josh, who I’ve written about on more than one occasion in this blog competed in yet another athletic race. This time it was the Oceanside Ironman 70.3, for those you of that don’t know a “70.3″ is exactly half the distance of a full Ironman race (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run). For the third time in 6 months I have been up around or before 4 so that he could compete in one these f’ing crazy races. That point is irrelevant but I just wanted to put it out there so I would come across as a person of good will.

Later that night, after Josh and the rest of us has had taken naps, eaten (everything from ice cream to barley with walnuts) and played with the various puppies occupying the house, my brother, mother, father (sleeping) and I sat in our living room and began to talk. Our discussion eventually turned to another race that was taking place the same day as his 70.3. That race was the Barkley Ultramarathon.

Gary Cantrell, who began, designed and orchestrates the Barkley reminds me, in a way, of Dr. Peter Brown who is the title character in Josh Bazell’s book. Cantrell is seemingly demented, sadistic and yearly invites people to tempt fate in his crazy endurance challenge, Bazell has created, in Brown, that same demented and crazed personality. Before I get any more into it, I want to tell you a bit more about Barkley so that we, as a team, can convince my brother to give it a shot.

The Barkely is one of the most challenging foot races on the planet. But, why? Well, rather than get too far off from actually reviewing Beat the Reaper I’ll point you to this article which was in the Washington Post in 2007. But, because I know so many people won’t click I will tell you that the race has 52,900 feet of climb, since beginning in 1986 only 9 (there was one finisher this year) out of some 700 competitors have finished the race, race cutoff is 60 hours and because there are no spotters on the course racers must locate 9 paperback books along the course (on each of the 5 loops) and remove a page from each book to prove they have ran the circuit. If that little tidbit, along with the article, doesn’t indicate to you how potentially crazy Cantrell is I don’t know what else would. I guess convincing my brother may be a little tough.

Beat this, reap that…

Thoroughly entertaining, that’s how I’d describe this book. What’s not to be enjoyed about a fictional book that incorporates one of America’s greatest presidents and… vampires. I know what you’re thinking, “haven’t you berated the cliche of using vampires in some of your recent reviews?” Well, yes, I have. But this one stands out.

It’s been awhile since I’ve thought about Abraham Lincoln. It’s not as though his is a name that comes up in daily conversations or thoughts. I’m not saying that he shouldn’t, but seriously, when was the last time you thought about him? (If you’re a fourth grader learning presidents your excluded from answering this question.) I have to tell you though that having him brought back to me as a vampire hunting bad ass is pretty awesome.

Ironically enough just as I was finishing this book I found this video (and no, this video has nothing to do with this book, the “trailer” at the bottom of this post however does):

But back to the review.

Unfortunately I really don’t know enough about Lincoln to determine whether or not most of the un-vampire related stuff was accurate. If it is, there’s quite a bit to be learned about Lincoln and his family from this book, but given the idea behind the novel it’s hard not to approach it without some level of skepticism.

Today really is Abe’s bday…

Who am I? The proverbial question. The question that everyone (or at least I) ask myself quite often and really don’t have an answer to. Haha, fooled you, thought I was going to get all deep on you in this review didn’t ya? Well, I could cause it’d be quite easy to, but I’m tired of doing that. I feel like I’ve steered away from my original type of reviews (I feel like I’ve said that a lot recently). Luckily for me though, I watched an episode of the often disturbing, typically disgusting, expectantly controversial and downright humorous animated tv show South Park last night and received some inspiration.

In the episode I watched, titled “The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs,” the boys (Kyle, Stan, Cartman and Kenny) are told to read Catcher in the Rye for their class. When they learn about the controversy the book sparked, the boys, in their excitement, read the book in a single sitting. When they discover that the book offered no risque details or offensive material, they are flabbergasted and upset. In their angst, the boys decide to write the most horrid and controversial book ever, which they title “The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs.”

At the end of the episode, after much absurdity, the boys need to console their friend Butters for whom they bestowed credit upon for writing their book (i’d explain why he needs consoling but I don’t think it’s necessary). At which point Kyle tells him “We’ve all learned that people look for meaning in books and sometimes even if it isn’t even there they’ll try and invent their own meaning.” Whereby Stan continues and says “yeah, dude, that’s why we all need to avoid books and stick to television.”

Turn the damn tv off…

From 1999 through 2003 I lived in a rural town in central Pennsylvania. Having grown up in sunny and metropolitan San Diego you can probably imagine how different life was for me when I moved. If I remember correctly, we had three bars, a couple of pizza places, two or three restaurants, a Dunkin’ Dounts and a Wal-Mart not too far away. For the first time in my life I was privy to true seasons. In Fall the leaves would all turn a beautiful hue before the dark, cold, snowy Winter stripped all those leaves away. In the Spring, flowers would being to bloom, the grass would turn green leading into the hot and humid Summer months.

There were many things that struck me about this part of the country, but one of the most distinguished was the people who permanently called this place home. I wouldn’t quite compare them to the banjo playing characters in Deliverance, a more realistic likeness would be to the characters in the book which I am reviewing here, Nobody Move. You see they aren’t quite backwards but they also aren’t quite forwards (yeah, that doesn’t mean much to me either).

The similarities between the two, central PA and the book, really struck home in the way in which the title character, Jimmy Lutz, was portrayed. Here’s this naive, somewhat ignorant guy that isn’t quite a criminal but is on the verge of it. A guy who is dictated by circumstance as opposed to dictating circumstances. I’m really not trying to be mean here and stereotype people from central PA, cause I’m not. What I’m trying to convey is that Mr. Lutz, the rest of the cast from the book and all the scenes in the story could have very easily occurred where I was living. (What’s really scary is that the book actually takes place in California, where I grew up and live now).

Stop! Hammer time.

I doubt there is anyway for me to say this without sounding like an ass, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. When I was putting up all my notices of “Now Reading: Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned” on twitter, facebook and this blog I was little confused. I looked at the cover of the book and saw the title followed by “Wells Tower.” I thought to myself, “I know this is a book of short stories, perhaps Wells Towers is a group of editors or maybe a publisher, surely it’s not the name of the author.” Well, as luck would have it, of course Wells Tower is the authors name and here I am looking like an ass for thinking otherwise and even more of an ass for deciding to tell you this story. It is indeed a book of short stories, only they have all been written by Mr. Tower. I think I actually decided to tell you this so that you wouldn’t make the same mistake and make an ass of yourself. Wells is not only the author of this book but it turns out he is a highly respected journalist who has been published in The New Yorker, Harper’s Magazine and Mcsweeney’s amongst others.

Like I said this is a collection of short stories. What they’re about on a macro level is pretty much impossible to say due to how different each of them are. In true Valet fashion I will go ahead and give you a brief synopsis of each one without giving anything away.

I apologize if none of my synopsis make any sense. The book made very little sense to me and therefore that is reflected below.

Nonsense ahead…

What the hell is the point of spending 50 pages introducing the reader to characters that never reappear in a story? I honestly have no clue. I can say with finality that I did not enjoy this book.

Within those first fifty pages we meet four characters, a sheriff, his wife, the villain and the villain’s henchman. Somehow it reminds me of Mccarthy’s No Country For Old Men. Except, I like Mccarthy and his books. It probably has to do with the fact that the henchman couldn’t have been anymore prototypical, “He had that air of affability that let you know know he didn’t give a fuck about you or anybody else.” I’m pretty sure I’ve read about that character a couple of times in the past 6 months alone. And to be clear, Chigur was way more bad ass.

Following those 50 pages Burnside decides to start the actual story which involves missing boys, a derelict chemical plant, a social divide and hormonal adolescents. Reading the back cover of the novel you’d almost think that there might be something in here worth checking out. It did actually make the book sound compelling and even encouraged me enough to buy it (if anyone wants it, please, just let me know).

Not uncommon in a book that situates a town near a derelict chemical plant, the incidence of cancer and disease is unfathomably high. The environment has been decimated and the moral of said town is, well, down in the dumps.

oh hell, just keep going…

This is now the fourth of Eggers books that I have read, or at least remember reading, and the second work of fiction. I had and have high regards for the works I’ve already read Zeitoun, Wild Things & What is the What. I honestly didn’t know what to expect when reading this book although it had been recommended to me by many people, including people in the publishing industry and a girl who has a crush on Mr. Eggers (if he weren’t married, I’d tell him he’d be foolish not to get her number).

You Shall Know Our Velocity! is a whirlwind, a veritable tornado of adventure, action and words. I had no idea that that’s what I was getting into, it threw me for a loop to say the least. I know that, or believe that, Eggers is a very intelligent guy. Therefore it’s somewhat impossible for me to just read the story as a story, while the whole time knowing there is depth in the words he chooses to use.

When two characters, Will and Hand, have to confront the death of their close friend, Jack, who has died in a tragic accident, they are besought my misery. It is hard for me to imagine them feeling any other way. Their pain is compounded when the title character, Will, is unable to use a large sum of money he has received to try and save Jack’s life. In lieu of using the money to save their friend Will and Hand decide to travel the world and disperse the money to those who seem deserving.

This book would be a little more typical and stagnant if it weren’t for the fact that Will and Hand aim to travel around the world in only one week. Most of us know that this is next to impossible, but the creative ways in which these two design itineraries is awesome. I only wish I could make something like that happen. While their trip and actions on the trip, doling out money, may be perceived as a statement about the nature of American tourists and their over zealous consumerism and propensity to want to do the right thing, I do not see that as being the mission behind the story or their adventure.

Velocity: Rapidity or speed of motion; swiftness. Keep moving…

After reading 3 pages I had an inkling I was going to enjoy this book. After reading 5 pages describing a birth and the formation of the MISCS or Mothers In Support of Caesarian Sections campaign (with a slogan/image of a circle with a vagina in it with a line through it) I had more than a feeling that this book and I were meant to be. And by the time I reached the 11th page whereby Not Sidney (the main character) questions his teachers use of the comma I knew this book and I were going to probably get married. Then again, in this day and age, with all those conservative, god fearing, man – woman marriage people would probably throw a shit fit so maybe not.

This book is funny. Funny in a “you’re going to laugh out loud” kind of way. The simplest miscommunications in this book are truly divine and will make you snicker.

I Am Not Sidney Poitier is about a boy named Not Sidney and his transformation from adolescent to grown man in the antebellum south. Of course with a name like Not Sidney introductions with people are forever going to be a harder task than they ever should be. Imagine yourself saying “whats your name?” and getting the response “I am Not Sidney.” Well, you can kind of imagine that it ends up playing out similar to Abbott and Costello’s Who’s on First. That alone of course would cause some confusion but add to that the fact that Not Sidney Poitier actually looks like the real Sidney Poitier and the confusion is compounded.

“History passes the final judgment.” – Sidney Poitier (the real one), now keep reading…