Shots from the Zoo

A few shots from a recent visit to the Houston Zoo with friends.

Baby Giraffe Framed by Mother

Ring-necked Duck

Okapi? OK!

Fossa at Rest

Cheetah

Cheetah

Baby Giraffe

Baby Giraffe

Baby Giraffe and Mom

Elder Chimpanzee

Ankole Cattle Locking Horns

Ankole Horns

Ankole Cattle in Locked Horns

Giant Anteater

Clouded Leopard on the Prowl

Jaguar in Repose

Lemur

American Bald Eagle

The End (White Rhino)

My Half-year in Books, July to December 2019

My book-reading always tails off in the latter part of the year, so as predicted in my mid-year summary, I missed my lofty "book a week" goal. I did, however, hit a lesser "4 books a month" goal, for 48 total, so I'm ok with that. And, as I also referenced in my midyear post, I used some of that non-reading time to successfully keep my children from causing grievous bodily to themselves or the greater world. You're welcome.

This last six months of reading was...pretty bad overall. There were a lot of disappointments, a lot of "I need an audiobook, and this is what's available from the library", and just some bad choices. Thankfully I ended the year strong with the fantastic The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri. The only other books that stood out were Haruki Murakami's usual mastery on Colorless Tsukuru Tsaki and a couple surprisingly good debut novels; American Rust by Philip Meyer, and Let me Out Here, by Emily Pease. One-man book clubbing is hard.

Freedom – Jonathan Franzen
This book is the absolute best book I read all year if, and only if, you judge its merit on girth alone. Otherwise this never-ending tome of a book falls just short of average. The story of a family's slow dissolve set against an odd conservation subplot is fairly well written, just not terribly engaging. Supposedly a meditation of sorts on pursuit of our personal freedoms. Shortened by a few hundred pages, it might make a better read. I was happy to be free of this book.

Armada – Ernest Cline
From Ready Player One author Ernest Cline, this is another 80s pop culture-infused sci fi that borrows liberally (by which I mean, completely steals) from The Last Starfighter's plot of earth video gamer recruited to save the galaxy from something or other, space ships, pew pew pew, death blossom, etc. I wasn't a huge fan of Ready Player One, but this feels even more phoned in, without at least the novelty of the former's storyline.

Black Beauty – Anna Sewell
This was a read with my daughter Lydia, that was probably ill-selected. I, in some sleep-deprived moment, apparently mistook Sewell's polemic on the treatment of 19th century horses, for The Black Stallion. To her credit, my daughter soldiered through it, but I owe her several sparkly princess pony books for this one. I'm sure this was a shocking expose on animal cruelty in its day, but it doesn't translate well.

Two Years, Eight Months, and Twenty-Eight Nights – Salman Rushdie
I have wavered on liking and disliking Rushdie in the past. His skill is considerable, but sometimes his writing feels a bit pretentious. This novel of sudden reappearance of djinn weaves fantastic small stories against a larger historic epic, with heaps of wry social commentary. It was enjoyable, and deftly written, but also felt to drag in parts. Still, Rushdie has an excellent eye for the glory and fallibility of mankind as reflected in the myths we tell. 

Omnivore's Dilemma – Michael Pollan
This overly-wrought diatribe on modern food production is just what I feared it would be. Some interesting bits and perspective about industrial food chains with heavy sermonizing on what are often generic, unnuanced recommendations. I don't disagree in principle with a lot of it, I just find his writing tiresome, and often smacking of "let them eat cake"; somewhat elitist recommendations that ignore the financial and logistical limitations of average people. A lot of the content is not new ideas or information to me, so I think it was probably more impactful when it was first released. But it really does feel like Pollan didn't really dig down into the broader economic systems that make slapped on, one-size-fits-all solutions often unworkable. 

Artemis – Andy Weir
Weir's debut, The Martian, was a fun read that appealed to the problem-solver but reflected his prior career as a software engineer in its pretty repetitive problem in/solution out pacing. Some of the power of that original novel stemmed from the isolation of the character and setting. Artemis, essentially a heist caper…in space…with forgettable characters…and cringeworthy dialogue, has a storyline so generic it could easily be subbed in as an episode of any given second-rate sci fi show. Weir's writing was ok enough to carry on the unique setting of Martian. It's not enough to make a forgettable story and less memorable. 

Black Klansman – Ron Stallworth
I still haven't seen the Spike Lee movie this book inspired, but thought I'd check out the original material. It's an interesting story but didn't work well as an audiobook. The author read it, which is sometimes a good idea (I have a standing "shut up and take my money" policy for anything Neil Gaiman reads), but often isn't. In this case, it was listening to someone read from a spreadsheet. The story of a black police officer working to infiltrate the KKK is interesting, and Stallworth is obviously a brave guy, but it doesn't end up being much actual content. His investigation was of a small branch of the KKK, over a short period of time, without much climax. Not to take anything away from his service, but it didn't really rise much above "interesting historical blip". 

Wildwood – Colin Meloy
So, I hate leaving books unfinished, and as part of a recent conversation with a friend, was guilted into going back and picking up Wildwood, which I had abandoned years ago. I had gotten a chapter or two in at the time, mostly just because it was written by Decemberists frontman Meloy but found it too twee and disengaged. I got through the intro and found a book that, once you got past the rough edges, ended up being a little more earnest than I got from the first chapters. The story of a magical wood inside Portland draws heavily from other classics (Narnia, Secret Garden, etc.) but ended up being imaginative enough to be worth the read. I can only assume it's also better as an actual book (it has a lot of illustrations) read with a child, then as an audiobook listened to in adult traffic. 

Failure is an Option – H. Jon Benjamin
I'm a big fan of Jon (Archer, Bob's Burgers, etc.) Benjamin, so when I came across this audiobook for a long ride, I gave it a shot. It's mostly a rambling collection of failure stories, with a very loosely tied premise that failure is important and should be seen as such. But mostly it's a vehicle for Benjamin to riff in self-deprecating glory. And it works, mostly. I was worried that Benjamin wouldn't be as funny sans written show dialogue, but in both delivery and content it's really funny stuff.  

Barracoon – Zora Neale Hurston
A long unpublished work, Barracoon is the accounting of Hurston's interview with a former slave presumed to be the last survivor of the Middle Passage slave trade. I expected more, but it's a brief, unkempt work. The horrors of slavery are undoubtable but are almost dulled by the folksy interactions with the interviewee. Their Eyes Were Watching God this is not. Interesting, and well written for what it is (it's also very short), it really doesn't enter into the realm of Hurston's other work. 

Colorless Tsukuru Tsaki – Haruki Murakami
I have never been disappointed by Murakami. Ever. And that streak continues here. As usual for Murakami, the novel delves deeply into messy reality of human relationships, captured perfectly in his dialogue, despite what is assuredly something being lost in cultural translation. Unlike some other works (Norwegian Wood, etc.) the story has more drama and mystery attached, making a great combination. The story takes place in two phases of the protagonist's life, his childhood with four friends who unexplainably disown him, and his adulthood where he starts to piece the answer together. It's a tragic take on how we hurt each other, and how we resolve our personal history as we age. 

East of Eden – John Steinbeck
I've picked up East so many times I've lost count. I finally soldiered through an audiobook, and I'm glad I did. It took well over a month, but Steinbeck's magnum opus tale of generations of California families is everything you want Steinbeck to be, even with some heavy-handed Biblical allegory. Its side-story discussion of Lee's code-switching from pidgin Chinese to educated English was ahead of its time. 

The Seven 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle – Stuart Turton
Deaths is just your typical Victorian murder mystery with time looping meta prisons and body-swapping. Saying it was an odd read is an understatement. The main characters are caught in a Groundhog Day-esque time loop of a single day, in which they will successively inhabit a series of host bodies, while trying to solve a murder for mysterious games master. The rules are only revealed in pieces, as clues mount over the course of each variation of the day lived. While it went on a bit longer than it needed to, it was a really ingenious take on the typical murder mystery. If Groundhog Day, Primer, and Clue had a baby, this is what it would read like. 

The Noble Hustle – Colson Whitehead

Whitehead gets someone to take him in high stakes poker tournament, then muses on his misadventures. Funny bits, and some astute satire, but mostly just more of an elongated "did I tell you about that one time I...". It tries to be Fear and Loathing and can't pull it off. That being said, Whitehead's writing is decent enough here to carry the short work through. 

Emerald City – Jennifer Egan

I go back and forth on like Egan. I still don't understand the popularity of Visit from the Goon Squad, but no one else seems to like Manhattan Beach to the degree I do, so, I'm not sure whether my novel radar is off, or what. Emerald  is a collection of short stories, that landed as just meh to me, and I had to look up the book to remind myself of what was actually in the collection. A couple poignant moments in stories of loss, but mostly generic stuff. 

American Rust – Philip Meyer
Debut novels are always tricky, especially when you're trying to write that Great American Novel. And if there's anything that's been overdone as a topic, it's the Tragic Plight of the Rust Belt White Folk. All that being said, Meyer (who authored  the reasonably enjoyable Texas generational epic The Son) takes a premise that could be every Bruce Springsteen song ever written, and makes it unique. Dissolving families and small towns spur young adults to get away, or give up. The Stand By Me-esque start gives way to some really subtle and powerful writing on family dynamics as the "oddball" son tries to make his escape from a crumbling household, the urbane sister deals with her guilt on surviving, and the personified decay of the town pulls the football star who went nowhere. The unique character quirks and interplay makes this novel one of the better of this year's bunch. 

Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage murders and the birth of the FBI – David Grann
This nonfiction account of the brutal killings of several Osage in the early part of the 20th century broadens out to shed light on the extent of institutionalized and expansive white exploitation of Osage resources.  The direct and indirect violence that plays out in the story mirrors a wide-ranging, deliberate and systemic preying on the Osage (and Native Americans in general) taking place under the veil and weight of white America. The FBI angle is involved, but I really don't think it gets much into the "birth of the FBI". The FBI play a prominent role, but the birth of the FBI really isn't the focus, thankfully. A great, if tragic, read.

Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Abraham Lincoln's Mther and other Botanical Attrocities – Amy Stewart
I had read Stewart's account of the history of various plants involved with our alcohols and cocktails (The Drunken Botanist), and enjoyed it, but found it suffered from not deciding whether it wanted to be a cheeky historical overview or a desk reference. Wicked Plants, which details the various deadly and dangerous plants, is premised on a similar format (sensationalized botany) but falls into the same trap. It may have worked better as an actual book than an audiobook (she reads all of the intro reference material verbatim...e.g., "scientific name - (etc), place of origin - Brazil, … stuff we would have skipped over in a reference guide). It's interesting stuff, and there were several plants that I now eye more warily, but in general it was only half as salacious as her title. 

Ghost Wall – Sarah Moss
This novel tells the story of a strained English family devolving into madness as part of a historical recreation project where they live as primitive hunter-gatherers. The leadup and accounts of abusive family interactions lays the groundwork for a slow dissolve into madness....that gets completely rushed in the books' latter chapters. It really feels like the first half of a really well paced novel got sewn onto its last chapter, missing all of the slow psychological burn inbetween. I really liked the book, but was incredibly disappointed at the rush of the storyline with what turned almost into an almost very-special-episode ending. A great start that finished far too quickly. 

Sag Harbor – Colson Whitehead
In the continuing theme of on again/off again relationships with authors (Whitehead was stunning on last year's Underground Railroad), I'm off again with Whitehead. Sag Harbor is the mostly autobiographical account of Colson's youthful summers in the books eponymous town. Colson tries to describe the odd surrealism of a middle/upper-class black vacation community enclave on Long Island in the '80s. However, a lot of it comes across as a very claustrophobic set of innocuous anecdotes. I'm not saying he should have pumped up the drama (I mean, thinking back on family vacations, even in turbulent coming-of-age times, things are never like the movies), but there really wasn't a good central narrative to the novel. The Colson stand-in Benji and his brother spend summer doing typical teenage boy stuff, there are a couple slight encounters with racism, and mostly it just meanders around. It felt like someone Hamilton'd the Goonies, but not in a good way (if you're reading this, Lin Manuel.....man, why?....but if you are, write this down: diverse Goonies musical. Let's do this.)

Let Me Out Here (Stories) – Emily Pease
The only reason I've even heard of this collection of dark stories of obsession and faith turned bad and the down and out is because my (second cousin? daughter of my cousin? Neice-once-removed?) Emma is featured on its cover in a truly striking/chilling photograph. I was at our family's house and a copy of it was on the table, so I read most of it over a couple days. I hadn't expected it to be very good, but was pleasantly surprised. The writing is lacking in places, and some of the stories strain the limits of what is too short to be a short story, but there's a strong central corridor of storylines dipping into visceral failure and self-deception. 

The Lowland – Jumpha Lahiri
After a pretty lackluster season of reading, with only a few bright points, Lahiri's Lowland was an inspiring novel to end the year with. Its poetic story of two brothers separate by geography and ideology but united by a generations-spanning tragedy. At the same time incredibly intimate and also encompassing of the vast differences between politics and countries, Lowland weaves the history of a family and a revolutionary period in India as a whole inextricably. A powerful novel of transitions and the continuing ripples of tragedy. 

Notes

Books I started but didn't finish this year include The Road to Little Dribbling (which seemed mostly a nonstop curmudgeonly complaint by Bill Bryson), Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates (which slanted a little too heavily into "boo Islam, Yay America"), and The Color of Water (which I think was too much of a jarring transition from McBride's Lord God Bird).