The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of
Here They Come and
Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Bat Segundo interview with Murphy)
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in
Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of
Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by
The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents
all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
Bat Segundo interview with McClear)
My scores came in the same order, but “coloring book” was only 3 percentage points behind “classic novel.”
Which puts me in mind of the joke told, over the decades, about Spiro Agnew, Dan Quayle and George W. Bush about his entire library being destroyed in a fire: both books were burned, including one he hadn’t finished coloring.
Richard, I love that joke.
My results are kind of embarrassing:
You scored as A coloring book.
Children love you–and so do many adults. They find you approachable, simple and friendly, all of which perfectly describe you. Instead of throwing big words around, you communicate in the international language of pictures. In order to be as open as possible, you present yourself simply, allowing those around you to customize you to their liking. Sometimes this results in you turning into a primitive masterpiece, and other times you resemble a schizophrenic’s daydream. So long as the one talking to you understands you, you’re happy. Zen and the art of crayon-sharpening.
A coloring book 75%
A college textbook 75%
A classic novel 64%
Poetry 61%
A paperback romance novel 50%
The back of a froot loops box 32%
An electronics user’s manual 29%
Hey, wait a minute – I just realized I tied with college textbook. So how come I get coloring book? And what do the two have to do with one another?
Coloring books of the world, UNITE!
A coloring book 82%
A paperback romance novel 39%
Poetry 39%
A college textbook 39%
The back of a froot loops box 29%
An electronics user’s manual 14%
A classic novel 11%