The Angel of History: A Novel by Rabih Alameddine

So, a little bit after finishing Kanye West Owes Me $300 by Jensen Karp, I started reading a book by Alexander McCall Smith, and stopped mid-way through to read The Angel of History by Rabih Alameddine.  I heard Alameddine on NPR and was intrigued.  The subject matter of this book seemed original, kooky, provocative, and I wanted to read it.  I asked The Husband to request it from the library - had to wait for it to come in to the library (hence the McCall Smith book).  Once it did, I cracked it open and gave it a read.

This book was STRANGE STRANGE STRANGE.  What I understood about the book - the main character, Jacob, hears the Devil and Death talking to him.  He's lost his partner to AIDS.  He talks to his dead partner.  He hears the Devil and Death.  And, then checks himself into a mental hospital for a little "vacation" to hopefully stop the voices.

The Devil and Death are interviewing 14 other Saints that have been involved with Jacob throughout his storied life about different events in his life.

The author writes in a stream of consciousness style with little punctuation and many run-on sentences.  It was very hard to follow who he was talking to and what he was talking about (present or past).  I kept reading and kept being confused and puzzled and kept waiting for it to "click" for me and make sense.  It didn't.

It pains me to say that I didn't finish this book.  It was due back at the library, The Husband and I were leaving for Southern California for the holidays, and I just couldn't get in to this book.  This is only the 2nd time that I can remember that I haven't finished a book I started (the other was a Robert Ludlum book - The Aquitaine Progression, I think).  I really wanted to know what happened in The Angel of History - but I guess it wasn't to be.  I think if something had clicked for me, I would have kept the book, paid the overdue fee, and finished it.  Or if it had really clicked for me, I'm sure I would have finished it in a week or so like I have with other books.

Sadly, I can't sing this book's praises like other reviewers on Amazon.  I wanted to like it, but, like the Rolling Stones sang, you can't always get what you want.

Kanye West Owes me $300 by Jensen Karp

Disclaimer - I would never have read this gem if it wasn't for The Husband.  He is a hard core rap fan.  I am not.  I dabble in rap.  He lives in rap.  I was thinking this morning about if someone were to write a story about us, what would the title be...  I think I came up with the perfect one, loosely based on a book by John Steinbeck.  Our story would be titled "Of Animals and Rap" - I love animals and The Husband loves rap.  The Husband read this book during our vacation in August and was giggling and laughing the whole time.  So, after I finished my vacation read, I started reading this one on/around August 23 and finished it on/around September 16.  This one took a little longer to read because I started a meditation practice and I tend to do my meditations before bed, which is when I usually read.  So, I sort of put reading on the back burner a little in order to get my feet wet with meditation.  After meditating, I usually fall right asleep.

Regardless, I read this rap book.  It was hilarious.  The author, Jensen Karp, grew up basically where I grew up.  He mentions many places that I know and have been during my upbringing in the San Fernando Valley.  His observations and remembrances are pretty spot on and funny.  Jensen is a white Jewish boy who dreamed of becoming a rapper.  His dreams came true at a Bar Mitzva where he rapped.  Through a wild set of crazy circumstances, Jensen finds himself in front of Jimmy Iovine the head of Interscope records getting a deal to become the next white rapper (this is at the same time Eminem was coming up).  Despite a little voice in the back of Jensen's head telling him that this was a bad deal because how was Interscope going to promote 2 white rappers at the same time, he was so gung-ho that he took the deal.  Interscope threw lots of money and people at him - he met all kinds of famous rappers and artists he idolized, including RZA, how could he turn that down?

I was surprised to find a mention of Ry Cooder - he wrote a book called Los Angeles Stories that I read back in September 2014.  Jensen wrote:

I had been introduced to Mathew Robinson, a writer who moonlighted as Matty Boom in Trilambs, a humorous rap group that had been garnering attention throughout LA with their over-the-top skewering of hip-hop culture.  The comedy-focused group was made up of about a dozen members, including some music royalty - ranging from Quincy Jones's grandson to Ry Cooder's son - who had little to no history in rap.  They would sample songs that had zero chance at eventual clearance, stealing elements from the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel, while employing ridiculous lyrics influenced by the stream-of-consciousness style of Ghostface Killah but mostly just mentioning how they were rich enough to own a camel or reminiscing about the year that homeless people went crazy.

Where else are you going to get a mention of the Beatles, Quincy Jones, Simon and Garfunkel, and Ghostface Killah all in one place?  In this book, apparently.  And, apparently, Kanye West, was a humble music producer peddling his beats to anyone who would listen before he became a famous, rich, crazy person.  Jensen worked with Kanye and wrote about the first time he spoke with Kanye:

On the resulting conference call with our managers, Kanye was polite and accommodating, excited to be making what would be, at the time, the most money he'd ever made from music: somewhere between $5000 and $7500.  But that all took a quick turn when he heard what track I selected.  The vision and stubborn determination we're now accustomed to seeing from Kanye suddenly cropped up out of nowhere.

     "But that's the one I made for Ghostface", Kanye explained.

     One of his managers, Gee, reminded him that Ghostface had heard it and passed.

     "Yeah, but I gotta talk to him.  Pick another one."

     I said excitedly, "Oh, you know Ghostface?"  Even after my personal experience with RZA, I still wasn't cool enough to hide my enthusiasm whenever Wu-Tang was mentioned. 

     "No," Kanye said abruptly.

This recollection of Jensen's first in-person interaction with Kanye made me laugh out loud:

 I was also pretty taken aback by what "K.West" looked like.  The swagger you see in the megastar now was entirely absent.  His Enyce tracksuit jacket and baggy pants were about two sizes bigger than anything a rapper would wear, even in 2001.  He was sporting an outfit that a fifty-year-old woman in a wardrobe department would put together if "rapper" was mentioned in your script.  We were more than a decade away from rappers mentioning Tom Ford and Marc Jacobs in songs - or from Kanye debuting his own weirdo high-end clothing line during Fashion Week - but the guy looked just plain goofy.  And the gold chains and Jesus piece that would eventually appear around his neck were replaced by the only bling he had at the time: adult braces.  I vividly remember saying, "This guy looks like Bowfinger" to my manager, who would whisper "Urkel" in my ear over and over.

Apparently, Kanye was dorky.  Who knew?

This book is hilarious, from Jensen's rap persona's name - Hot Karl - to his stories of interactions with Kanye and everything in between.  If you know anything about rap at all and/or grew up in LA, you'll find this book comical, entertaining, and interesting.  The Husband was surprised about how many of the rappers I remembered from his random rap-like tales of rappers he likes.  I feel proud that I can shock him with my rap knowledge.  I don't necessarily share his love for rap, but I love him.  So, maybe by affiliation I love rap too.  I don't know.  But this book was funny.

Oh, and if you read it, you'll learn why Kanye owes Jensen Karp $300.  I, personally, think Kanye should pay him back.

The Affair by Lee Child

So, after finishing String Too Short to be Saved, by Donald Hall, I started a Jack Reacher book by Lee Child - The Affair.  I started this on August 18 and finished it on/around August 28 or so (I got bad with my reading tracking).

I'm a fan of Lee Child and Jack Reacher books - I've read many of them (in order too!).  Child has a formula for these books, and it works.  It is funny, I was visiting my dad while I was reading this book and we decided to watch the first Reacher movie with Tom Cruise.  I have a love-hate relationship with that movie.  I love it because it brings the book to life.  I hate it because, um, Tom Cruise as Reacher?  In no way, shape, or form does he match the description of Reacher that Child repeats in book after book after book.  Reacher, in the book, is huge - he's tall, thick, muscular.  Tom Cruise... isn't.  It just doesn't match up.

But the movie is entertaining, just like the books.  The Affair is no different.  It is entertaining and a good read.  This book answers the ultimate Reacher question - how did he exit from the military.  It was interesting to have a look back into Reacher's life.  If you've ever read a Reacher book, you know he doesn't follow orders.  He goes off on his own line of inquiry and investigation.  That's Reacher.  And, that's what he does here too.  This book has a few turns that were unexpected.  And, of course (with 2 exceptions so far) he gets the girl.

Reacher isn't that different in the military than out.  He's his own man, doesn't really follow orders, is kind of rogue.  The story for this one is that Reacher is sent to a small town to support a military investigation into some deaths of beautiful young women in the town adjacent to the military base.  There is another investigator on the base, and Reacher is trying to gather intel in the town.  Of course it gets messy.  Of course he kicks some ass, and then some - I was surprised at what he did at one point.  He takes chances, goes out on limbs, all in an effort to do the right thing and uncover the truth.  How he does that though is somewhat not entirely law-abiding.  Oh the irony.

I really liked the look back into his life, and look forward to his next nomadic adventure.

String Too Short to be Saved by Donald Hall

A good friend of mine, Scott, recommended this book to me.  Scott was born on the East Coast in New England so I'm not surprised that he recommended a book set in New England to me.  I met Scott in grad school at SFSU.  He's an extremely interesting person, a thinker, a collector, a historian, a learner, a student of life.  I'm a ponderer - I think about all kinds of crazy stuff - life, books, stuff.  Scott does too.

I started this book about string by Donald Hall on June 13 and finished it on August 13.  It took a while to read.  It definitely isn't a Reacher book, or one of the Alchemyst books.  But, it is a book.  It has words on the page - lots of words.  It was also a bit of a challenge, sort of, to come into possession of this book.  It wasn't available in my local public library.  When looking on Amazon, I saw that it was out of print, and ended up ordering a used copy.  A book is a book, and I was happy to get it.

When I started reading it, about 15 pages in, I wondered - where is this book going?  Up to that point, it was about a boy and his grandfather spending summers together on a New England Farm.  I kept waiting for "the point" or "something to happen".  Many things happened in the book, but I kept waiting for "the point" to hit me over the head.  The Husband asked me repeatedly what the book was about.  I kept telling him that I would tell him when I figured it out.  He always looked at me quizzically.  I'm sure he was thinking, "how can she not know what this book is about...".  But seriously, I didn't.  I mean, I knew what I was reading - I could comprehend the words on the page.  But it was kind of like a collection of short stories.  Memories of times a boy spent with his grandfather on a farm.  They did farm things - like harvest hay, shovel hay, transport hay, many things with hay.  Catch cows, pick blueberries, and tell stories.  Or rather the grandfather told stories, lots and lots of stories.

Donald, the boy and also the author, visited his grandparents on their farm every summer when he was growing up.  It seemed as if he thoroughly enjoyed this time, working and listening to stories.  Early in the book, he wrote:

"For all I knew, I thought, it could be the end of more than that.  I felt very conscious, that September, that my grandparents had another winter to live through before I could return to them.  The idea of their mortality was never far from the surface of my day, for a flush or a sigh or a hand pressed to a heart brought death to me, as if I had heard someone say the word.  It was a pack on my back, and I would feel the sharp, physical pain of their approach to dying, something becoming nothing - or was it my own approach to bereavement that made my side ache?"  

Ok - so I should say that Scott recommended this book to me to perhaps answer some questions I have about my questions about life, history, legacy, and my worry that when my father dies, that's it  the holder of memories of my parents and my legacy is gone.  My father isn't on his deathbed or anything, he's alive and kicking.  But he's getting old, he's dealing with dementia, and when his memory is gone, so will be my ability to ask questions and learn about him, my mom (who passed when I was 12), and how I came to be.

Scott met my dad at my wedding 3 years ago.  He'd heard me talk about my dad for years and was actually very excited to meet him.  My dad is a character - one of a kind.  He was a college professor for around 40-ish years, and has a story, fact, or lesson about everything.  When we were little, he always told my brother and I not to lie, but he "stretches the truth" all the time.  All. The. Time.  Perhaps the experience of meeting my dad was an influencing event that brought Scott to recommend this book to me.  I'll have to ask him sometime.

The grandfather in the book, Wesley, constantly tells stories to his grandson.  Stories about anything and everything.  Sometimes you don't know where the story is going.  Sometimes it doesn't have a point.  Kind of like my dad.  As I read the book, it was from the perspective of a time when my dad is not longer the dad I know him to be, and I dogeared pages to mark a passage or something that touched me or was relevant to the lens / state of mind through which I was approaching the book.  Regardless, there are a lot of dogeared pages.

One of the passages was about the grandson looking at family photos in his grandparents' house:

Here and there in the unused parlor my grandmother kept a gallery of pictures of the family.  Most of the faces belonged to men and women who had died before I was born, but I memorized their names, and my grandfather's stories which gave life to the names.  From the top of the piano and the bookcase, the rows of faces seemed to regard me as their survivor.  Daguerrotypes, tinted photographs, yearbook groups in cap and gown, blurred Brownie snapshots, field-hockey teams, wedding portraits, silhouettes, pictures taken when the subject knew he was dying, Automatic Take-Ur-Own-Pix, and the crayon drawings you can commission at county fairs for a dollar.  There was even the old framed photograph of a favorite cat, a little out of focus and indistinguishable from any other cat.  The whole air of the conglomerate past spoke out to me, even the school pictures of my mother and my aunts, which perpetuated a dead girlishness among old hair-dos.  To be without a history is like being forgotten.  My grandfather did not know the maiden names of either of his grandmothers.  I thought that to be forgotten must be the worst fate of all.

That last sentence is exactly it.  To be forgotten must be the worst fate of all.  I think that is the crux of what's going on in my mind.  I don't think anyone wants to be forgotten.  How horrible is that?

It wasn't until the last few pages of this book that "the point" really became clear.  I mean, as I read more and more of the book, I think I knew what "the point" was, but in the last few pages of the book, actually in the epilogue written by the author, that he really pulled everything together.  He ended up purchasing his grandparents' farm after his grandmother died, and came to live there full-time with his second wife.  He wrote:

I thought we were coming to a house we loved.  We were, and the back chamber holds detritus of a hundred years...  I thought we were coming to hills and stone walls we loved - and we were...  What I did not know: the people remain, we belong among them, and they are not dead but endure.  The dead are dead enough, and their descendants occupy new bodies; but everything is the same.  When I was young, I could not credit the power of place and tradition to re-embody itself.  When my grandfather died I claimed his kind was dead.  Last autumn when I turned fifty, eighteen cousins assembled at a surprise party in our living room; and the gene pool bubbled, live faces sponsoring recollection of dead photographed faces on the walls around them: a chin here and a forehead there.  But cousinship is not the matter, for the people who live here - in old farmhouses mainly, but also in trailers, in shacks, in ranches, in A-frames - take from the dead, and from the enduring land, qualities of frankness, wit, honesty, and goodness.

In a subtle way, memories abound.  A place, a thing, a person, a trait (character, physical, or other trait) can all be holders of memory.  I think it is up to us to open our eyes and take it in, look around, and remember.  That is the hard part - taking everything in and cataloging it in our brains and then bringing it back to the forefront whenever a situation calls for it.

I was visiting my dad in August and for some reason I kept remembering a time when he rode his bike up Fargo Hill in Los Angeles.  I have certain memories of what Fargo Hill looked like, and that it was GIANT.  I have no recollection of where Fargo Hill actually is - in my memory it is near where the Victorian houses are that my dad always visited (on Carol Avenue).  I asked my dad about it and he said Fargo Hill is actually in Echo Park - not anywhere near the Victorians.  Fargo Hill is about a 30-33% grade - pretty steep.  Well, when I was little, my dad made it up that hill.  Looking on the web, I found that the first race was in 1974 - it was definitely in the 70s when my dad rode up it, but what 70, I'm not sure.  We drove to that hill and the un-grandioseness of it shocked me.  It was a very steep hill that was very bland.  It had nothing of the fanfare it has in my mind.  We drove up it twice, then drove to the other side of the freeway to see it from a different perspective.  From there, it looks like it goes straight up.  And my dad rode up that monster on his bike.  Go dad.

Hall is right though - memories abound.  Oh, and that string that is too short to be saved...  Hall wrote, "A man was cleaning the attic of an old house in New England and he found a box which was full of tiny pieces of string.  On the lid of the box there was an inscription in old hand: "String too short to be saved.""

Specials by Scott Westerfeld

So, after finishing the first two books in this series - Uglies and Pretties, I picked up the third book called Specials.  I started reading this book on June 2 and finished it about or so later (can't find the little piece of paper I usually use to track when I start and stop reading).  Like the others in this series, Specials picks up right where the last one left off.

Specials finds Tally it's newest member of the kind of rogue and wild subgroup called the Cutters.  The Cutters, you guessed it, cut themselves to escape the influence of the brain lesions that cloud their thinking.  The Cutters are made Special and are the youngest members of the Specials group.  They are tasked with finding and destroying the New Smoke.

As you also can guess, shit hits the fan with this endeavor too.  A neighboring city called Diego serves as the home base for the New Smoke, and was never as strict as the hometown of Shay and Tally.  On the journey to the New Smoke, many of the Cutters/Specials are captured and they voluntarily take the cure.  The are very happy with their lot in life.  But somehow, Tally has escaped taking the cure.  And, this ends up being helpful.  Diego is about to be attacked by Dr. Cable and the Specials.  The former Cutter Specials convince Tally to help them defend Diego from this eminent attack.

Of course things go awry and not as planned, and of course shit hits the fan again.  Tally gets some semblance of revenge on those who wronged her, and ends up splitting off from her former Pretty Cutter Specials and doing something unexpected.

The book is a quick and easy read.  It is entertaining and I enjoyed reading the series.  I haven't picked up the fourth book in the series, Extras, but I may check it out from the library sometime.

Pretties by Scott Westerfeld

So, after finishing Uglies by Scott Westerfeld on May 22, I started book 2 in the series, Pretties.  I finished Pretties on June 1.  This one picks up right where book 1 left off.  It's pretty obvious from the title and the cover that Tally and Shay become Pretties.  So, I don't think that's too much of a giveaway.

So, here they are, all pretty living on the pretty island going about their pretty and carefree business.  They fall in with a clique of people known as the Crims (or criminals) and Tally is waiting to be voted into the group.  She meets Zane, the head of the Crims, and is hopelessly infatuated with his gorgeousness.  On the night when Tally is voted in at a large and over-the-top pretty party, she notices a somewhat familiar face in the peripheries of the crowd at the party.  Upon further investigation, and making chase with the person, she remembers that she does, in fact, know him though how is a bit fuzzy at first.  He hands her a letter from herself, and then disappears.

Tally reads the letter and is surprised (sort of) by the contents.  The letter sends her on a wild goose chase / scavenger hunt of sorts, with Zane in tow, to figure out what it all means.  And, it means a LOT.  Fast forward a little, and the Crims decide to start pulling some very un-typical non-pretty shenanigans on the Pretty Island in large part due to the letter to Tally from Tally.  The Crims start to get a cult-like following.

But, of course, all isn't pretty in pretty town, and some shit hits the fan in a number of ways.  I won't go into that here, but there are some grand adventures, close calls, interesting revelations - all make for good reading.

Yes, these books are categorized young adult literature, but I think a person of any age can enjoy them.  These books are entertaining and fast reads.  I enjoyed them enough to immediately start book 3 in the series, Specials.  My co-worker didn't give me the 4th book, so I'll need to check that one out from the library when the time comes.  Until next time...

Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

So, after finishing Zarafa by Michael Allin, on April 14, I took a little break.  Then, on May 1st I started Uglies by Scott Westerfeld, and finished it on May 22nd.  This is book 1 in a series by the author - Uglies, Pretties, Specials, and I learned when looking it up on Amazon, a fourth book, Extras.  I was talking with a co-worker a while back about books - I think she heard me talking about the Alchemyst series, and also about the Eragon series, and thought I would be interested in this series.  She brought the 3 books to me the next day.  So, I decided to give them a whirl.  I had no idea what they were about.  Luckily, Uglies caught my attention and held it. 

These books are set on futuristic Earth (like 300+ years in the future) where civilization as we know it is over.  People are separated into groups - littlies (kids), uglies (teens), pretties (16 years old +), middle pretties, crumblies (old people).  They live in managed settlements and all know their place in the world.  When uglies turn 16, they undergo an operation to make them pretty, and they move to an island full of other pretties where they party all the time and are bubbly.

Before uglies turn pretty, they get into mischief and pull "tricks" - bucking authority and doing their own thing.  Tally, one of the main characters, meets Shay while pulling a trick on the pretty island.  They become fast friends, and pull many other tricks, including going to the rusty ruins - the ruins left behind by human civilization (as we know it).  Shay knows of a splinter group of people who are living outside the managed cities, free from oversight of the wardens and "specials."

I can't give too much more away without spoiling things, so I'll have to stop here with the story synopsis.  Westerfeld's writing and story-telling is good.  The characters are interesting, and the story holds your interest.  You wonder about things, that eventually get revealed in the books.  It feels as if Westerfeld is commenting on elements of society today - the "perfect" body, "beautiful" people, wasteful behavior, crowd mentality, the havoc humans wreak on the earth, and more.  But, to me at least, it doesn't feel overly preachy.  There seem to be similarities between the old human society and the new society - like waste from the past human society that the characters talk about all while ordering up anything they want from the "hole in the wall" and then putting the things in the "recycler" when they are done using it one time.  Seems a little ironic to me.

Regardless, the book was entertaining.  I enjoyed it, and towards the end, I found myself doing my speed-read-page-turn-can't-wait-to-see-what-happens late-night reading binge.  Thanks to a little search on the Google, I have learned that this appears to be in development for a movie.  I'm sure it will be great!  Until next time...

Zarafa by Michael Allin

So, after finishing Inheritance by Christopher Paolini, I picked up Zarafa: A Giraffe's True Story, from Deep in Africa to the Heart of Paris by Michael Allin.  So, yes, this is kind of a random book.  I learned about it in an article the Husband sent me in January.  The article had a list of 5 books that shaped "America's Best New Company," Shinola.  This list was created by Shinola's creative director, Daniel Caudill.  The 5th book on Caudill's list is Zarafa.  The Husband thought I would like this book because I love giraffes.  

Zarafa is about the journey, from Africa to Paris, of a giraffe given to King Charles by Muhammed Ali in the 1820s.  Um, what?  Apparently, Muhammed Ali, not the boxer, but an Albanian man who became the Ottoman viceroy of Egypt, gifted this giraffe to King Charles.  But the story is so much more than that.  There are all kinds of non-Egyptian movers and shakers scheming for money, riches, notoriety, influence that have a role and a mention (or more) in this book.

Before I started reading this book on March 21 (finished on April 14), I thought it would be a fascinating, crazy tale of the overland and sea adventures of a giraffe.  It was that, but it was much more.  Before I go more into the book, I feel the need to mention that I have a BA and MA degree in American History, so I've read a book or two by historians.  I know that often "history books" are dry and rambling, and that authors of history books need to drive their point home time and again by stating and restating the point and evidence over and over.  This makes for very dry and very boring books.

Unfortunately, Zarafa was one of these books.  I didn't want this book to be a "history book."  I wanted it to be a wonderful fiction-like non-fiction book.  I wanted it to be exciting, informative, endearing, and fun.  I wanted a grand adventure of a giraffe.  A lovely, sweet, tall giraffe.  But, sadly, no.  This was a "history book."

There was a lot of information about the players.  For example, Bernardino Drovetti, an Italian-born soldier turned French consul general in Egypt.  Drovetti made his fortune trafficking animals, Egyptian antiquities, and mummies to his European clients.  Muhammed Ali, an Albanian-born mercenary in the Ottoman Turkish army turned Egyptian viceroy.  Ali was "modernizing" Egypt with the African slave trade and "confiscatory taxation."  Étienne Geoffroy Saint-Hilarie, a prominent French scientist, and savant in the l'Institut d'Égypte, started by none other than Napoleon.  Charles X, a Frenchman, a King, and exiled to Britain during France's revolution.

This whole tale of the giraffe started with "Drovetti's eagerness to ingratiate himself with the new king, Charles X, and Muhammed Ali's desire to befriend him..." and would possibly lessen "resentment toward the viceroy's imminent invasion of Greece."  Of course everything prominent political and royal people do is to gain favor or lessen hostilities for one thing or another (in this case invading Greece).

We go through all of this political background and foundation before we even really learn about the giraffe.  In 1824, the giraffe (a female) was captured as an infant in southeast Sudan and by some miracle made it to Alexandria, and then to Marseille, and then to Paris.  What a journey.  Allin researched how the giraffe was transported, and all of the dangers she faced in her journey.  He detailed this journey as best he could using articles and snippets of information he found in his research.

Once in Paris, Allin details how she was cared for and then moved to Paris.  Spoiler alert - the giraffe walked to Paris.  Rich and influential people along the route were eager to see the giraffe at private events.  And, eventually upon arrival in Paris, the giraffe had the audience of the King.

It is a pretty fantastic tale wrapped up in tons of political maneuvering.  I wish there had been less focus on the politics and more information about the giraffe.  I know it isn't always possible to write more about certain things because, sadly, there is no historical evidence to back things up.  The author would have to assume and take creative license, but then it wouldn't be history any more... 

History is fascinating and wonderful to learn about if it is presented in a way that makes it intriguing and exciting.  I know it is possible - I've read several "history books" that didn't seem history-book-ish.  I wish this was more like those.  I still love giraffes, and I'm still fascinated by how a giraffe came from Africa to Paris.  I just wish this book was more about the giraffe and less about the politics.

Me feeding a giraffe at the SF Zoo - it was magical

The Husband feeding a giraffe at the SF Zoo

Inheritance by Christopher Paolini

Another big surprise here, after finishing Brisingr on February 15, I eagerly started book 4 in this series (and the last book), Inheritance.  I started Inheritance on February 16 and finished it on March 20.  As per usual with this series, this book picked right up where the last left off.

Inheritance finds everything about to come to a head.  The Varden are ready to make their move to battle Galbatroix and rid the Empire of him for good.  There are many hurdles to pass before they can engage in the battle to end all battles.  There is much planning, hardship, blood, and gore on that path.

Eragon is faced with a challenge given to him, in part, by Solembum the werecat.  So, off Eragon and Saphira go on this challenge not knowing what, if anything, they will find.  The rest of the Varden are left to prepare for their endgame.

     "With the pad of his thumb, Galbatroix pushed open the box's sliding lid.  Then he reached inside and pulled out what appeared to be a large, ivory-colored maggot.  The creature was almost three inches long, and it had a tiny mouth at one end, with which it uttered the skree-skree she had heard before, announcing its displeasure to the world.  It was plump and pleated, like a caterpillar, but if it had any legs, they were so small as to be invisible.

     As the creature wiggled in a vain attempt to free itself from between Galbatorix's fingers, the king said, 'This is a burrow grub.  It is not what it appears to be.  Few things are, but in the case of burrow grubs, that is all the more true.  They are found in only one place in Alagaësia and are far more difficult to capture than you might suppose.  Take it, then, as a sign of my regard for you... that I deign to use one on you.'  His voice dropped in tone, becoming even more intimate.  'I would not, however, wish to exchange places with you.'

     The skree-skree of the burrow grub increased in volume as Galbatorix dropped it onto the bare skin of her right arm, just below the elbow.  She flinched as the disgusting creature landed on her; it was heavier than it looked, and its underside gripped her with what felt like hundreds of little hooks.

     The burrow grub squalled for a moment more; then it gathered up its body in a tight bundle and hopped several inches up her arm.

     She wrenched at her bonds, hoping to dislodge the grub, but it continued to cling to her.

     Again it hopped.

     And again, now it was on her shoulder, the hooks pinching and digging into her skin like a strip of minute cockleburs.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the burrow grub lift up its eyeless head and point it toward her face, as if testing the air.  Its tiny mouth opened, and she saw it had sharp cutting mandibles behind its upper and lower lips...

     ...Then its fat, limbless body contracted, and it hopped four, five inches straight up into the air and then dove headfirst toward the inner part of her elbow.

     As it landed, the burrow grub divided into a dozen small, bright green centipedes, which swarmed over her arm before each chose a spot to sink its mandibles into her flesh and bore its way through her skin..."

Um, gross.  But you can totally imagine what that creature looked like, and the horror of it squirming around on your skin.  Yuck! 

So much happens that I can't really write about details for fear of giving too much away.  But, if you like dragon-fantasy-fiction books, you'll like this series.

The covers of each book have a different colored dragon on them.  At first, I wondered why, but then after the first 2 books, came to learn why.  Also, each book has a 1-word title, and throughout reading each of the books, you'll learn why too.  My favorite learning why was Brisingr - it was AWESOME!

Give these a read - each is quite long - but totally worth it. 

Brisingr by Christopher Paolini

Yet again, after finishing Eldest, I dove right into book 3 - Brisingr by Christopher Paolini.  I started Brisingr on January 11 and finished it on February 15.  And, surprise surprise, it was FANTASTIC!  Book 3 picked up right where Eldest left off, and did not disappoint.

Eragon goes through some crazy shit.  Roran goes through some crazy shit.  Pretty much all of the characters go through some crazy shit.  I can't write about what kinds of crazy they are all dealing with because that would give too much away and I don't want to spoil it for anyone who may want to read these books.

     "Like a pale, sun-bleached pennant, the dry blade of grass hung from between Arya's left thumb and forefinger.  It trembled in sympathy with each surge of blood through her veins.  Pinching it at the top with her other hand, she tore the leaf in half lengthwise, then did the same with each of the resulting strips, quartering the leaf.  Then she began to plait the strips, forming a stiff braided rod.  She said, 'Galbatroix's true name is no great secret.  Three different elves - one a Rider, and two ordinary spellcasters - discovered it on their own and many years apart.'

     'They did!' exclaimed Eragon.

     Unperturbed, Arya picked another blade of grass, tore it into strips, inserted the peices into the gaps in her braided rod, and continued plaiting in a different direction.  'We can only speculate whether Galbatroix himself knows his true name.  I am of the opinion that he does not, for whatever it is, his true name must be so terrible, he could not go on living if he heard it.'

     'Unless he is so evil or so demented, the truth about his actions has no power to disturb him.' 

     'Perhaps.'  Her nimble fingers flew so fast, twisting, braiding, weaving, that they were nearly invisible.  She picked two more blades of grass... With a pleased expression, she held out her hands, palms-upward.  Resting on them was an exquisite ship made out of green and white grass.  It was no more than four inches long, but so detailed, Eragon descried benches for rowers, tiny railings along the edge of the deck, and portholes the size of raspberry seeds.  The curved prow was shaped somewhat like the head and neck of a rearing dragon.  There was a single mast...  Arya leaned forward and murmured, 'Flauga.'  She gently blew upon the ship, and it rose from her hands and sailed around the fire and then, gathering speed, slanted upward and glided off into the sparkling depths of the night sky.

     'How far will it go?' 

     'Forever,' she said.  'It takes the energy to stay aloft from the plants below.  Wherever there are plants, it can fly.'

     The thought bemused Eragon, but he also found it rather sad to think of the pretty grass ship wandering among the clouds for the rest of eternity, with none but birds for company.

This book is well-written, as are all of the others.  The stories and plots grab you and don't let go.  You won't want to put this book (or any of the books in this series) down easily.  I constantly wanted to read more and more to see what was going to happen.  I had a growing melancholy that there was only one 849-page book left.

Eldest by Christopher Paolini

So, after finishing Eragon by Christopher Paolini on December 14, I dove right into book 2 in the series - Eldest.  I started it on December 15 and finished it on January 10, 2016.  My how time flies - another year of books under my belt - 18 in total in 2015.

Eldest picks right up where Eragon ended, and it does not disappoint.  I still have a tough time believing that a 15-year old wrote these books.  They are so complicated, coherent, detailed, and great for such a young person to have written them.  There are several different plot-lines in Eldest - Eragon, his cousin Roran, Nasuada, and others.  I don't want to give much away here, but OMG - some crazy shit goes down.  Shit you don't expect at all.

There are elements of magical surprise, dwarf violence, gory battle, drug-induced euphoria, dragon-spirit healing, and more.

     "Then the elves began to sing in their clear, flutelike voices.  They sang many songs, yet each was but part of a larger melody that wove an enchantment over the dreamy night, heightening senses, removing inhibitions, and burnishing the revels with fey magic... The throbbing music enveloped Eragon, and he felt a wild abandon take hold of him, a desire to run free of his life and dance through elven glades forever more.  Beside him, Saphira hummed along with the tune, her glazed eyes lidded halfway.

     What transpired afterward, Eragon was never able to adequately recall.  It was as if he had a fever and faded in and out of consciousness.  He could remember certain incidents with vivid clarity - bright, pungent flashes filled with merriment - but it was beyond him to reconstruct the order in which they occurred.  He lost track of whether it was day or night, for no matter the time, dusk seemed to pervade the forest.  Nor could he ever say if he had slumbered, or needed sleep, during the celebration.."

I watched the movie Eragon, with high hopes that it would do a good job visualizing the book.  I was disappointed.  Some parts of the movie were good, but not good enough.  It seemed like a very low-budget version of what could be a spectacular movie.  Maybe, just maybe, if they make any of the other 3 books into movies now, they will be exponentially better.

Paolini is quite skilled at painting detailed, vivid pictures with words.  While reading, I could really envision the surroundings, the characters, I could hear the sounds, I could feel the intensity of situations.  To me, this is what great books should be able to do - bring the reader into the world of the book.  I remember back when I was younger, watching episodes of Gumby and Pokey.  I wish I possessed their power to walk into books - like the intro says "He can walk into any book with his pony pal Pokey too..." - what a fun skill!

What book would you walk into?