Wine Book Recommendations by La Belle Vie's Bill Summerville

With more than 16 years of restaurant experience, Bill Summerville has developed his own following; his attention to detail and taste in wines have been responsible for creating some of the best wine lists in the Twin Cities. One of La Belle Vie's three owners, Bill is the restaurant's managing director. With a residence mere blocks from the store, he can often be found strolling through our enormous cookbook selection.

Here are a few of Bill's recommendations for all you budding oenophiles out there:

"Karen McNeil’s Wine Bible is hands down the best overall book on wine. And it's written in a style that is so easy to read and understand."

"Anything, and I mean anything, by Andrew Jefford - articles, blogs, everything - but I especially like The New France. He writes on a level that is not for the beginner, but that does not mean a beginner should not read it as it will spark more interest on the more complex topics."

"Champagne by Don & Petie Kladstrup. Great look at the history of the amazingly tenacious people of Champagne."

"What to Drink with What You Eat by Dornenburg and Page is a great book on pairing written in a manner that makes it easy to understand with lots of great examples from sommeliers and chefs."

"Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl's Drink This: Wine Made Simple is great because she makes some very good points that other wine writers don’t approach."

Citizen Reviews: The Tiger's Wife

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with Ben Paulson's impressions of the debut novelist from the youngest author on last year's "20 under 40" list from The New Yorker.

The Tiger’s Wife by Tea Obreht

It's difficult to find a synonym for the word nice that doesn't sound in some way backhanded. The term itself is probably exactly what I'm looking for, but it carries with it a certain patronizing air, perhaps an unspoken accusation of quaintness and, if nothing else, it suggests a definite lack of effusion. Nonetheless, it seems the pitch perfect word to describe Téa Obreht's debut novel, The Tiger's Wife, because its restraint aptly reflects that of Obreht's writing. You see, The Tiger's Wife may be wonderfully composed, confidently coy, and, at times, entrancing. But effusive it is not. In The Tiger's Wife, Obreht offers us the story of Natalia, a young doctor from a war-eroded Balkan country, travelling across a neighboring border to deliver medical aid to an orphanage. En route, she learns that her beloved grandfather has died in a clinic inexplicably far from their home. The novel that unfolds is Natalia's quest to understand the mysteries surrounding his death. This investigation begins literally but, over time, it shifts into something slightly more existential, as Natalia begins to examine and retell the stories that her grandfather has passed on to her. The first of these stories describes an escaped tiger that haunted the pastoral village of his childhood. The second recurrent tale is of the "deathless man," an unwillingly immortal man whose life intersects her grandfather's from time to time. It's this strange mix of traumatic reality and magical realism that gives The Tiger's Wife its strength. Obreht embeds this ethereal world of mythology into a contemporary backdrop of conflict and loss. She does so with such unflinching simplicity and deliberate pacing that the novel's oscillations between dreamlike folklore and lyrical truth quickly blur into a charming and surreal meditation on the nature of mourning and mortality; on truth and myth; on the nature of storytelling itself. In The Tiger's Wife, Téa Obreht has given us an eloquent novel that is as charming as it is quietly confident. Delving into the patchwork narrative of this novel is a pleasure, and the world of The Tiger's Wife, is at once strange, captivating and resonant. Which brings me back to my point: The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht may be a nice book; but it is a really, really nice book. Please pick up this novel and read it. Do something nice for yourself.

Ben Paulson lives in St. Paul, where he obsesses about books, zombies and breakfasts.

Barack and Helen--Fans of Freedom

Jonathan Franzen's new novel Freedom doesn't come out until next Tuesday, but it's already big, big news in the publishing world. Franzen's first novel The Corrections was a smash hit (and won the National Book Award for Fiction... and was nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award... and was picked as an American Library Association Notable Book), and expectations are high for his follow-up book.

The story got even bigger recently when President Obama was given an advance reading copy during a recent visit to the Bunch of Grapes bookstore on Martha's Vineyard.

We here at Magers & Quinn also received an advance copy of the book from the publisher, and while we weren't able to give it to the President, we did find it a good home. It went to a beloved former employee, Helen Schnoes. She was kind enough to take time out of her studies to send us a quick review:

"It seems right that Jonathan Franzen's new novel, Freedom, comes at the end of summer. This book (like Franzen) repudiates the notion of a novel as a quick beach read to breeze through in a weekend, the content of which never breaks the surface. Acute detail and care pervades the whole novel--always necessary to the story. As a Minnesotan, I found Franzen’s rendering of our state to be spot on--he got all the names and references right. From ancestry dating back generations to a prominent change of narration to a few paragraphs following the migration of songbirds, each stylistic choice works to bring the novel one level deeper, to see his characters clearer, and to further enthrall the reader. In Freedom, Franzen has created a powerful examination of the U.S. today, infusing the novel with the cultural-political anger and literary passion that make his essays so enjoyable. I do wonder how a reader with more conservative political views would react to the novel, but hope that
regardless of partisanship, all readers connect with the complex characters he's created and the unspectacular, recognizable difficulties and relationships that fill their lives."

Freedom will be available August 31. Stop by the store to preorder a copy today.--David E

Citizen Review #2: Vanishing Point

Last month Jess Horowitz gave us her "Citizen Review" of Ander Monson's collection of essays Vanishing Point: Not A Memoir. Now Hilary Wentworth brings us another take on this fascinating book. Get your own copy now and meet the author when he visits the store on June 15.

Vanishing Point

Hey, remember when books were fun? Remember staying up all night with a Choose Your Own Adventure, the story playing out in seemingly infinite ways? Ander Monson gets it. He understands the need for something more than just printed words on a page. Monson describes his new project, Vanishing Point, as “a hacked out space between book and whatever’s beyond book.” And it’s just that. Throughout the physical book are dagger-shaped symbols that lead not to the bottom of the page or to the end, but to that most wonderful of places: the internet. The actual book is only part of the experience. In order to have fully “read” Vanishing Point, you need to go to Monson’s website and type in the noted words, an act that unlocks additional texts and images. Many of Monson’s essays are about layers--of paint, of flavor, of self--so this electronic accessing, this unpeeling, of information makes sense to me. And like the life behind it, the book doesn’t just end. It goes on, perhaps indefinitely if Monson keeps adding to the site. I happen to love footnotes and endnotes; I think that’s where the real juicy stuff resides. If you’re like me, then buy this book . . . and let the games begin.

Hillary Wentworth recently moved to Minneapolis from New Hampshire. She misses her state motto.

Citizen Review: Vanishing Point

Stalwart M&Q loyalist Jess Horowitz is back with our latest "Citizen Review." She read Ander Monson's collection of essays Vanishing Point: Not A Memoir. The book is available now, and you can meet the author when he visits the store on June 15.

Vanishing Point

Ander Monson's Vanishing Point reminds me of the characters of my creative nonfiction writing classes in college. They would become good friends with the instructor. During workshopping sessions, they would give you good feedback and pick out funny or poignant parts of your essay that you didn't know you had created. When it was their turn to be workshopped, you were presented with a rich essay, full of long paragraphs and big words. Was it good writing? Was it mindless babble? Were you just not getting it? This is how I felt many times while reading Monson’s book. He is clearly talented, yet quirky and selective with his prose. There are beautiful moments, like when the author’s eccentricities are revealed in his collection of found objects. Or when he analyzes the other people named Ander (not Anders) in the world. Monson's “Transubstantiation”, an in-depth meditation on Doritos and other snack foods, belongs in a Best Food Writing anthology. Other essays experiment with layout and footnotes. Monson has even set up a website to accompany the book, where one can go further into his peculiar world. I’d recommend Vanishing Point for fans of the Believer. Or for students of creative writing looking to expand their palate with an experimental memoir. Or for those wondering what to buy their favorite indie reader, who quite possibly was one of those characters in my writing class.

Jess Horwitz lives in Uptown and likes her books arranged by color.

Citizen Reviews: The Prince of Mist

"Citizen Reviews," our occasional series of customer book reviews, continues with the Leslie Warner Tonyan's write-up of a young adult novel from Carlos Ruiz Zafon, author of The Shadow of the Wind. It's available now.

The Prince of Mist

Non-stop mysteries and adventures await readers of Carlos Ruiz Zafon's latest, The Price of Mist (Little, Brown and Co.). Suggested for readers ages 12 and older, the tale entangles 13 year old Max and his sisters, 15 year old Alicia and 8 year old Irina, with unexplainable events, ever increasing in menace. Set against the backdrop of WWII, the family moves some distance from their endangered city to the assumed safety and tranquility of a seaside village. But the hoped for peace is soon disrupted by the discovery of a neglected garden filled with statues of circus performers, a malevolent, spider eating cat, and threatening whispers from a bedroom wardrobe. Rumors of the fate of the previous residents hint at tragedy and the discovery of old reel-to-reel films add to the intrigue. But this is more than a typical haunted house story. Zafon also plays with the idea and significance of Time; past and present are not separable. Max's father is a watchmaker, Max is given a magic watch (which is stolen), the village clock hands move backwards, and a story of danger long past is thrust into current happenings. A new friend, Roland, introduces Max and Alicia to his grandfather, the lighthouse keeper, with secrets of his own. Investigating an underwater shipwreck provides more adventure and mystery. Could the shipwreck, the lighthouse keeper, and the garden statues be somehow connected? And who or what is the source ever growing awareness of danger? Is evil really present in changing shapes and how can it be understood and combated? More subtly, the family is presented realistically, with typical sibling attitude and conflicts balanced with affection and understanding for each other's foibles. Dynamic growth in response to life's changes is conveyed through the stress of relocation, Max's realization of the responsibility of friendship, and Alicia's budding romance with Roland. Ultimately, the bond between brother and sister and between friends creates depth and elevates this story beyond a mere series of adventures.

Citizen Reviews: Parott and Olivier in America

"Citizen Reviews," our occasional series of customer book reviews, continues with the indefatigable Ben Paulson's thoughts on the latest novel from Peter Carey. It's available today.

Parrot and Olivier in America

There are two things that I should be honest about from the beginning. The first is that I don't know anything about Alexis de Tocqueville. I mean, I've heard of him. I've read a quotation here and a paragraph there. I know he wrote about America, about the United States of America, and I know he had various opinions about American democracy. But as to the aim and quality of these opinions, I think it would be fair to categorize my knowledge as near total ignorance. My second confession is that before picking up Parrot and Olivier in America, I had never heard of Peter Carey, a fault clearly my own. Despite all of my ignorance, I was happy to discover that Peter Carey's new book Parrot and Olivier in America is a fascinating read. In the interest of clarity, I should say that this is a novel. Olivier, an aristocrat trying to escape the backlash of the French Revolution by escaping to the New World, is a fictionalized reimagining of De Tocqueville, and he writes his way around the United States joined by his somewhat less than faithful servant, Parrot. Carey uses these two characters as the framework for this picaresque story, cobbling together a narrative from their personal papers, letters and journal entries. Through this juxtaposition of Olivier and Parrot, Carey brings depth to the writing, allowing the narrative to alternate between the flowery prose of a youthful French aristocrat and the sly, pragmatic language of his older British servant. As a reader, you will revel in the linguistic dexterity of this novel, as well as the satisfying texture of Carey's sentences. Although the entire novel is aimed at exploring the young America and its potential, it is through the democratic language itself that Carey shines. This, I think, is the greatest success of the novel--that Carey's explorations of American identity are not thin mechanizations draped over political philosophy. They are researched, well composed and adorned with luxurious language; language that sprawls from high brow aristocrats to low servants, from eloquent pretense to jarring cynicism, from library desk to barstool. Parrot and Olivier in America is an interesting work because Peter Carey reinvents and employs a historical figure as the template for an entertaining and thoughtful book that explores American democracy at its roots. It's a great novel because Carey is such a strong and versatile writer. If you don't believe me, read one of his sentences.

Ben Paulson lives in St. Paul, where he obsesses about books, zombies and breakfasts.

Citizen Review: I Thought You Were Dead

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with Ben Paulson's summary of the latest comic novel from Pete Nelson. You can meet Pete Wednesday, April 21, at 7:30pm, when he reads at Magers & Quinn.

I Thought You Were Dead

It's generally accepted fact that people who love dogs and people who love books rarely have anything to discuss with each other. I am happy to announce that those days of conflict are safely behind us. I Thought You Were Dead, the new novel by Pete Nelson, is the story of a man in a rut. Recently divorced, Paul Gustavson oscillates between his floundering freelance writing career and his local drinking establishment, meandering peaceably through his days side by side with his faithful dog, Stella. When his father is hospitalized, Paul must return home, embarking on a personal odyssey of reconciliation. Forced to confront his own disappointments, Paul ultimately finds renewal through an introspective reevaluation of his life, reconsidering the changes of middle age, the value of family and the meaning of companionship, canine or otherwise. Through this narrative of mordant humor and patient storytelling, Nelson explores the inertia of lowered expectations and the constant possibility of change. Perfect for the dog-lover in your life, I Thought You Were Dead is the tale of a man at odds with the world and the dog that talks him through it. Oh, yeah, the dog talks. You'll get used to it. In fact, like Paul, you'll start to find it kind of comforting.

Ben Paulson lives in St. Paul, where he obsesses about books, zombies and breakfasts.

Citizen Review: If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home

Critics love John Jodzio's short stories, but what does your average M&Q customer think? Wonder no more. Here is the dependable Ben Paulson with a Citizen Review of Jodzio's first book.

If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home

John Jodzio's If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home is that special kind of book that makes you want to seize the person nearest you by their lapels and thrust the book in their waiting hands, only allowing their escape after staring deeply into their eyes and pleading, "Read this as soon as possible." Yes, it's that kind of book. Jodzio, a Minneapolis resident and short fiction writer, has been featured in McSweeney's, Rake Magazine, MnArts Magazine, and numerous online publications. If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home, his first published collection, is also the first book published by Saint Paul's promising Replacement Press. As might be expected, the release of this book is an exciting occasion for everyone involved, not the least of which should be local bibliophiles. If you haven't been paying attention, now is the time to get in on this blossoming homegrown literary scene, and Jodzio's rich collection of short fiction is a rewarding place to start. Comprised of 21 short stories, If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home is a wonderful look into a strange new world, one explored through the offbeat and bizarre lives of its characters. Though the stories vary greatly in length and subject, they share a combined sense of hopeful melancholia and bleak humor. These works range from an absurdist sketch of a baby that won't stop eating everything in its sight, including a ninja star ("Inventory"); to the story of a disappointed couple trying to reason with a group of clamorous street musicians ("Shoo, Shoo"); to a poignantly painful tale of two adolescent boys urinating through mail slots ("If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home"). Jodzio's writing should seem alien and ridiculous, but, more often than not, the effusive longing and sardonic humor of his characters are disarmingly familiar. These characters spiral through their lives, trying to create unity in their fleeting and fragmented universes. Jodzio's stories ache tangibly, and they are not as foreign as they seem. If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home testifies that the only thing separating you from these characters is simply that you are not them and they are not you. But just barely. Please read this book as soon as possible.

Ben Paulson lives in St. Paul, where he obsesses about books, zombies and breakfasts.

Join us for a launch party for If You Lived Here You'd Already Be Home at Magers & Quinn Booksellers, Friday, March 19, at 7:30pm. Details are here.

Citizen Review: The Poison Eaters

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with The Poison Eaters by Holly Black. The book will be available in February.

The Poison Eaters

Holly Black's novels for young adults combine, in a vivid and visceral way, folkloric raw material and the pangs of contemporary adolescence. Every tale in her new collection, The Poison Eaters, accomplishes this same alchemy in short story form. The result is concentrated, distilled, weapons-grade stuff, and it is beautiful. It's like very strong espresso, delicious to sip but powerful enough to keep you up all night wishing you could breathe comfortably with blankets pulled over your head. Some of Black's stories use old faerie lore--the really old stuff (you can tell by the spelling) in which the Fair Folk are far more frightening than flowery—and situate themselves in the same world as Black's Modern Faerie Tale novels. Others are fairy tales of the familiar, Grimm-collected sort, concerning princes, princesses, and the inheritance of thrones. These turn out to be the most likely to cause nightmares. There are also queer stories here, both in the sense of having queer protagonists and in the sense of queering reality as it is commonly understood, making the familiar strange and the strange somehow comforting. Many contradictions come together and dance in Black's fiction: the uncanny mixes with the ordinary, old lore walks in contemporary settings, and childhood collides with maturity in that heartbreaking incongruity for which "young adult" is as good a name as any. Every ending, when it comes, presents another contraction: they are simultaneously astonishing and inevitable. The last words of a last bedtime story, told by a king to the son who tried to poison him, will surprise you. The judicious and sacrilegious use of paper and scissors will surprise you. The choices made by Matilda, "The Coldest Girl in Coldtown," who teaches others to be so very careful what they wish for, will surprise you—and yet, afterwards, you will know that these stories could not possibly have ended any other way. The Poison Eaters will reward the brave, and offer strange and powerful comforts to anyone who is, was, or is about to become an adolescent. The book offers something more useful than the old instruction to avoid eating faerie gifts: it provides both the poisons and the antidotes. Trust that these cures will work.

William Alexander lives in Minneapolis with spouse, new baby, and cat, and is always overjoyed to hear words used well. These are his current favorites: "We reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals."

Citizen Review: Wormwood, Nevada

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with Aaron Wilson's review of David Oppegaard's recent science fiction novel.

Wormwood, Nevada

It is a Twin Cities’ tradition to support local businesses, farms, and artists. We take great pride in supporting all things Minnesotan. Buying locally allows us to keep our communities, hinterland, and culture vibrant, ensuring a strong economy voting, Minnesota--yes, with our hard-earned dollars. If you still have that special someone, you know whom I mean, that guy or gal, who sits up at night pondering whether we are a lone in the galaxy, on your holiday shopping list, then I have the perfect gift to suggest.

Wormwood, Nevada is David Oppegaard’s alien-injected follow-up to his 2008 Bram Stoker Award-nominated novel The Suicide Collectors. Oppegaard is a Twin Cities native who, having grown up in small town of Crystal Lake, MN, went on to earn his M.F.A in Writing from Hamline University in St. Paul, MN. He has a twisted and dark sense of humor that imbues all of his characters with tragic and often comedic destines. While reading one of his novels, you can’t help but feel sucked a long with the characters as they do battle with the most human of flaws while trying to collectively escape a lager than live catastrophe.

In Wormwood, Nevada, Oppegaard invites us to share in the lives of Anna and Tyler as they begin their new lives in the dusty sunburned town of Wormwood, Nevada. Tyler was offered a job teaching high school English, including an ever so thankful summer school class, in Wormwood. Tyler admits that he could have found a teaching job elsewhere, but he has a plan that includes staying in his Aunt Bernie’s home for a year while they save up enough money for a place of their own. Meanwhile, Anna, a former Miss Nebraska, still wants the excitement of the big city, and she is very leery about their move to Wormwood.

The town of Wormwood takes on a life of its own. Oppegaard’s writing allows readers to feel the sun-parched, dusty soil, and the refreshing sips of lemonade mixed with vodka that Aunt Bernie refers too when she says, “I figure drinking’s the most popular pastime in Wormwood” (12). Wormwood is one of those places where everyone knows everyone’s name and just enough of each other’s intimate affairs to be just a little bit dangerous, a real ‘these are the people in my neighborhood’ type place that would make Sesame Street proud.

The real reason to finish Oppegaard’s Wormwood, Nevada is that it is clearly a case study in personal and communal trauma. Tyler and Anna struggle with what their relationship looks like now that they’ve moved in with Aunt Bernie in Wormwood. One day, will Anna pack up her things, take the car, and drive west because she has finally had it with Tyler and his nerdy obsessions and Aunt Bernie’s over dramatic dream love affair with Leonard Nimoy, or will she stay? Will Tyler’s fascination with visitors from outer space drive her away? With his head in the sky, will he even notice that she is gone?

And what about the rest of the town, how will Wormwood define itself after the meteorite crashed into downtown? “Will it change” is the question that everyone in town is struggling to answer, as well as, “Can I change”? The problem is that change always follows a traumatic event. Change is a natural response to unnatural or unusual circumstances of which Wormwood, Nevada’s supply is about to overflow.
Aaron M. Wilson lives in Minneapolis with his loving wife and his two cat’s (one good and one bad). He reviews short stories for his blog, The Soulless Machine Review, and is an adjunct instructor of English, Literature, and Environmental Science at Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts, Minneapolis/St. Paul.

Citizen Review: The Unnamed

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with loyal M&Q customer Jess Horowitz, writing about Joshua Ferris' second novel.

The Unnamed

Joshua Ferris, author of the popular office black comedy Then We Came to the End (2007), returns to the shelves with his second novel, The Unnamed. We meet Tim and Jane Farnsworth, a wealthy, successful couple who share a beautiful home and an inability to relate to their introverted teenage daughter. Tim has just begun a third bout with an inexplicable illness. As we learn about Tim’s illness, family relationships are tested, flaws are illuminated, and countless doctors shrug their shoulders as to what is causing Tim’s problem. Throughout the novel, Tim and Jane are repeatedly separated and reunited, having to reestablish their sense of home and continuity. While reading, I was frustrated, relieved, and again frustrated by their actions, which I imagine was Ferris’ intention. As in his first novel, he excels at creating characters that we can’t help but follow down the path to insanity. Many novels and films take on a strained marriage, but Ferris’ story is original and unusual. Much of the book takes place in winter, so it’s highly recommended to read it in these cold months, to make the book’s feeling of cold all the more vivid.

Jess Horwitz lives in Uptown and likes her books arranged by color.

The Unnamed will be published on January 18, 2010.

Citizen Review: The Farmer's Daughter

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with M&Q's own Shawn Neary reviewing the new collection of three novellas from Jim Harrison.

The Farmer's Daughter

When in our store and walking underneath the low ceiling in literature, you may have noticed Jim Harrison's books off to your right. These are the books whose jackets bear a certain resemblance to one another. They are, by and large, paintings in muted colors, of quiet landscapes and powerful, solitary animals (the odd Legend of the Fall movie tie-in being the exception). The three novellas within The Farmer's Daughter, Harrison's latest, possess this same relational quality. While there's no direct tie between Sarah Anitra Holcomb, Brown Dog, or the nameless narrator of "Games of the Night," the same measured pace, the same types of challenges, the same turns of phrase, even the same songs (Patsy's Cline's The Saddest Word in Lonesome is Me is mentioned a number of times) appear throughout these pages. The characters examined--a home-schooled daughter of Montana, a some-time rabble rouser and full-time father fleeing the law, and a man prone to monthly blackouts and compulsions to insatiable violence--are molded by actions from which there is no going back and emerge, to paraphrase Harrison's description of the farmer's daughter from which this book takes its name, terribly certain of themselves.

Shawn Neary is excited to write a 200 word review of Updike's Rabbit novels. He could kind of go for a pizza right now and misses Book It in a bad way.

Citizen Review: The Lacuna

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with the latest from novelist Barbara Kingsolver.

The Lacuna

The United States has some 'splainin' to do. Kingsolver's newest novel, The Lacuna, shines light on some of the darkest episodes in American and Mexican history, including the brutal suppression of the 1932 bonus army protests, Leon Trotsky's murder in 1940, and the McCarthy hearings of the 1950s. The novel begins with Harrison Shepherd's tumultuous childhood, spent shuffling between his Mexican mother and American father. A gift of a diving mask allows him to exchange the ugliness of life on land for the beauty and mystery of life underwater, where he discovers his first "lacuna" or "gap" in the form of a cave accessible only when the tide is just right. A chance encounter with Frida Kahlo shapes the rest of his life, spent mostly as a writer in North Carolina. We get a glimpse of the difficulties he faces as a young gay man pre-Stonewall. The cruelties of the McCarthy era are portrayed without ambiguity. Kingsolver's deft, compelling prose backs us into a corner with Shepherd until we can see no way out. And then the lacuna beckons.

Nancy Seger is a social worker who lives in south Minneapolis. She bagged twenty-two (22!) bags of leaves this fall. She has also recently re-discovered a deep love of falafel.

PS: Barbara Kingsolver was on Minnesota Public Radio recently. You can hear the hour-long interview here.

Citizen Review: Undrunk

A customer contacted me out of the blue, asking if he could write a review of a book he had purchased recently at Magers & Quinn. He had found the book to be very useful, but was worried that the title might be off-putting to potential readers. Here then is his review; the author's name has been withheld by request.

Undrunk : A Skeptic's Guide to AA

Two things led me to this book, for which I am grateful, neither the title or subtitle but the foresight of the publisher: leading me to the name of the writer of the Foreword [ed.--Mel B.] (who I know and respect) and the sample chapter pages on their website. The title/subtitle at first glimpse caused a reaction that this was going to be a tirade about the failings of the A.A. philosophy (which wouldn't fit well with the publisher that I am familiar with [ed.--Hazelden]) nothing could be further from the content of this book. This is an important book. Part of the fact that it is a short and to the point read is an essential element. The attention span of most people coming off of alcohol is not especially long. While I'm convinced that sponsorship is an essential element of the A.A. program, even with the best possible relationship questions need to be asked and this writer has given the newcomer a well-rounded collection of answers in an intelligent way. There is actually a lot more information than I believe most people in this program understand with much more time in it. Unless we've been to a lot of the same meetings (very unlikely) he has experienced an awful lot of detailed events that are universal occurrences in A.A. in my 30 years in this fellowship and hearing about these things early on helps to take the distraction away from the reason for being there. Magers & Quinn is located in the heart of where A.A. was first practiced in the early 1940s in Minnesota and to its credit had this book in my hands in three days online. Usually when I buy a book I "expect" to learn something that I didn't know about the topic--I figured this would be an exception as the writer had just achieved his first year in A.A. recovery and I have, actually, learned a lot. Generational and cultural perspective that is a distance away from my own are woven into his writing. Aside from the fact that the subject is near and dear, it is an exceptional job of the writing craft. I've read through hundreds of books related to A.A. and its history and know that this will become one of the all time most widely read by those looking for a way out of the hell of alcoholism. It will be a regular acquisition for those that I sponsor and is already in the hands of a few and being passed on.

Citizen Reviews: Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with Aaron Wilson's reaction to the latest young adult novel from Phyllis Reynolds Naylor.

Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

Got to love Facebook! I hesitated joining because I saw how friends and family were addicted to it, spending hours searching for friends, family, and organizations. Well, after finally joining, I found my favorite Minneapolis bookstore, Magers & Quinn, and became a fan. A few days later, an update was posted that Magers & Quinn was looking for someone to review Phyllis Reynolds Naylor’s new book “Faith, Hope, and Ivy June. I’m a big fan of Naylor’s novels, which include Shiloh and the addictive Bessledorf Mysteries. So, I jumped at the opportunity to get my hands on her newest book.

Faith, Hope, and Ivy June is a smartly written novel that explores, without apology, the sometimes painful class divisions that we take for granted in the United States. Specifically, Naylor opens wide the social, economic, and cultural, divide that exists between two seventh-grade girls in Kentucky. Ivy June and Catherine Combs will spend two weeks living with the other one, recording feelings and thoughts, paying special attention to how their lives are different and how they are similar, in separate journals so that they can report their experiences back to their respective schools.

Karl Marx wrote, “The history of all previous societies has been the history of class struggles.” Naylor uses Ivy June and Catherine’s characters to access a foreigner’s perspective on the mundane day-to-day reality of either living in urban Lexington or in rural Thunder Creek. Both girls, who once had strong stereotypical views of how the other lived, thought, and behaved, now have an enduring relationship based on respect and in each other’s humanity. However, it was a struggle for both Ivy June and Catherine to come to terms with their inescapable differences.

Before traveling to Lexington to spend two weeks with Catherine, Ivy June had to endure intense suspicion from friends and family alike. They distrusted her desire to experience the big city. There is a telling scene between Ivy June and her sister, Jessie, that begins, “Well, it’s not a Lexington bedroom, but at least I’ve got it to myself” (21) and ends a few pages later with Ivy June giving her mother the forty dollars that the school gave her for the trip (23). Ivy June knows that her family needs the money more than she does and hands it over knowing that it will be put to good use. However, it doesn’t lesson her family’s worries about Ivy June returning from Lexington a different person.

Her family’s fears are realized while Ivy June readies her home for Catherine’s arrival. Ivy June and her grandmother argue, “What you’ve been tryin’ to do this past week is making us change our ways, and I guess we got Lexington to thank for that” (148). Ivy June must come to terms with her life and is afraid that Catherine will judge her because her grandmother wears the same dingy apron, or her great-grandmother will not put on new slippers, and that they will only be able to bathe and wash their hair once a week.

Meanwhile, Catherine worries that when Ivy June arrives that she will need an introduction to basic hygiene, how to use a flush-toilet, and that she may refuse to wear the required school uniform. Catherine also wonders if she will be able to survive two weeks in Thunder Creek without her cell phone because there is no reception in the mountains where Ivy June lives.

Ultimately, Ivy June’s character is more interesting because the author assumes a middle to upper-middle class reader. Ivy June is not only Catherine’s guide into the world of Thunder Creek, but also ours. However, the girls’ journals delve into the tough issues that each of them is trying to understand. My only complaint about the books is that the journals feel underused in the second half of the story. Both girls experience a personal tragedy and the journals become less important, understandably, until the very end.

Faith, Hope, and Ivy June is recommended for ages 9 -12, but anyone interested in reading an intelligent book about finding common ground between social, economic, and cultural, divides in the United States shouldn’t miss this one. If there isn’t an exchange program like this in our country, there should be one. It seems to me that being able to empathize, walk in another class’s shoes, is something that is missing in our educational system. So, we turn to talented novelist to fill that apparent gap.
Aaron M. Wilson lives in Minneapolis with his loving wife and his two cats (one good and one bad). He reviews short stories for his blog, The Soulless Machine Review, and is an adjunct instructor of English, Literature, and Environmental Science at Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts, Minneapolis/St. Paul.

Citizen Reviews: Pygmy

Intrepid customer reviewer Ben Paulson is back with his reaction to Chuck "Fight Club" Palahniuk's latest novel.

Pygmy by Chuck Palahniuk

I am as uncomfortable talking about Pygmy as I was to start reading it. Surprisingly, that's not a bad thing. Chuck Palahniuk's tenth novel, Pygmy, is the story of a mysterious terrorist sleeper cell aimed at infiltrating the heart of the Midwest, disguised as foreign exchange students and prepared to wreak havoc upon our nation. The novel is composed of dispatches sent from the main character, known only as Pygmy, to his totalitarian government headquarters in an unknown enemy territory. Garbed in a shirt that reads "Property of Jesus," Pygmy must navigate the politics of American schools, churches, social groups and family circles with the aim of executing his insidious mission. He is armed only with his intellect, a handy book of quotations from the likes of Hitler, Mao and Stalin--and an admirable knowledge of lethal hand-to-hand combat. Through this character, Palahniuk pits the pinnacle of totalitarian training and ideology against the most average embodiments of American vice, creating a comedy that is both wildly entertaining and challengingly removed. Pygmy's fragmented language and syntax may frustrate some readers at the outset, but Palahniuk uses this imaginative framework to create a very literal, if fumbled and occasionally caustic, understanding of our surroundings. As I negotiated the corpulent, apathetic American landscape, I was forced to reconcile the fact that Pygmy’s intolerance of America is not entirely wrong with the nagging doubts that it isn’t entirely right either. Pygmy is a scathing satirical post-mortem of our over-drugged, over-sexed, over-indulgent culture. Palahniuk hits uncomfortably close to home and then waits for you to start laughing. And I begrudgingly must admit that I was laughing all along.

Ben Paulson lives in St. Paul, where he obsesses about books, zombies and breakfasts.

What You're Reading

Bookstores get a lot of what the trade calls "advance reader copies." We're trying to put ours to good use by farming them out to customers in return for a few words about the book. We post these "Citizen Reviews" on the blog (read them all here), include them in the newsletter, and even put them in our new display (above). Check out the current recommendations from your fellow customers.

Want to be a citizen reviewer? I'm always looking for more contributors. If you're an avid reader--and an avid M&Q fan--email me.--David E

Citizen Review: Shanghai Girls

We're back with another M&Q customer review. This week, Jess Horowitz recommends a summer novel you won't be embarrassed to be seen reading.

Shanghai Girls

Lisa See’s latest novel, Shanghai Girls, begins in 1937 and follows the adult lives of Pearl and May Chin, sisters who work as “beautiful girls,” epitomizing the modern, Western lifestyle to sell cigarettes, alcohol, and household products. Lively, international Shanghai was considered the Paris of the East, insulated from the Communist regime of the rest of China. The Chin family was wealthy and respected; the family lived happily until the day Mr. Chin’s debt collectors came calling. Forced to marry a pair of suitors from America to repay their father’s debt, Pearl and May suddenly understand what lies outside of the walls of Shanghai. As the Japanese bomb their beloved city in what would lead to World War II, they begin the long journey to meet their husbands in Los Angeles. As Pearl and May go from beautiful girls of privilege to overworked servants for their in-laws’ tourist attraction, China City, See sheds light on an underrepresented piece of American history and the immigrant experience. Her strength lies in her rich appreciation for detail, from the fibers of the traditional Chinese dress, the cheongsam, to the cameos of Chinese American film stars of the 1940s and 50s. The reader is enveloped in a world torn by tradition, segregation, and the imaginary American Dream. Shanghai Girls is a great choice if you're looking for a summer read with substance. It is a good starting off point to See’s canon of critically-acclaimed novels about Chinese history and culture.

Jess Horwitz lives in Uptown Minneapolis and works in book publishing.

We're always looking for avid readers. Email me if you're interested in becoming a citizen reviewer, too.--David E

Citizen Reviews: When to Go in the Water

We continue our occasional series of customer reviews with Ben Paulson's thoughts on the new novel from Larry Sutin. Larry will be at Magers & Quinn to read from his book on Saturday, June 6. See our events page for all the details.

When to Go in the Water by Lawrence Suttin

You won’t be sure, but you will think you’ve read this book before. There’s something familiar about it, something you can’t place, and that, dear reader, is because it’s all familiar. You have read it all before, in different places and at different times in your life. And yet, this book seems to be something new. Lawrence Sutin’s new novel When to Go in the Water contains a rich fusion of influences and it wears these influences unabashedly. When to Go in the Water tells the tale of Hector de Saint-Aureole, a Dickensian protagonist that meanders through his life and across the globe, writing a book of meditations on the nature of the world and his place in it. This narrative is interrupted sporadically throughout by descriptions of the responses of his imaginary readers, some of whom exist long after Saint-Aureole’s death. Sutin’s use of this framework allows him to playfully shift between characters and styles, alternating fluidly between whimsical fancy, coy nostalgia, and a sense of stark poignancy. Part Dickens, part Plascencia, and part Fitzgerald, When to Go in the Water is a meditation on the subtle erosions of existence and the unintentional effects of simply participating in life. And while you may find its pieces eerily familiar, the whole will be something wholly original and affecting.

Ben Paulson lives in St. Paul, where he obsesses about books, zombies and breakfasts.