Max Brooks has written a book that combines the traditional view of zombies with a much more modern setting that takes the reader back to that initial fear first felt when zombies descended on small towns to feast on the flesh of the living.  World War Z is a sequel of sorts to what should be a household staple, The Zombie Survival Guide.  How people can sleep at night without an escape plan in case of a zombie attack, I don’t know.  But this latest book, WWZ, takes us past a step-by-step survival plan, and picks up the story after the attack has already happened.  In this version of the world, the zombies have already infested the planet, lurching their way through each country as the governments struggle to at first contain the outbreak, then control it, and finally, fight it.  From the first cases to the fall of nations, the entire struggle is detailed rather brilliantly through personal narratives of those who went through.

Brooks acts as a journalist interviewing those people who lived through the traumatic events.  His interviewees include doctors, government aides, soldiers, civilians and criminals.  Each interview manages to touch on a portion of the world’s struggle with zombies to create a picture which encompasses everything.  Like his previous book, The Zombie Survival Guide, Brooks uses this novel to critique the societies we live.  While it may be impossible to imagine that zombies ever have or will exist, the way in which people, communities, cities and governments deal with the threat in Brooks’ book don’t seem too far fetched from events that have and are currently taking place in the world.  He details a frightening fictional topic, but it is how he imbues it with a sense of reality that leaves you truly terrified.  A doctor is thrust into a room with the deceased bound and shackled.  A mother finds her children being dragged away in the night.   Russian soldiers attempting to flee the infection are forced to murder their own comrades.  A flood of refugees clogs a road in India and hundreds are trampled as the military loses control of the evacuation.   These personal tales bring the stories of the undead to life.

Is that too cheesy?

Due to the popularity of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series, most fantasy books followed a similar plot arc complete with fictional maps, expansive histories, richly imagined languages, and epic adventures.  Hobbits were untouchable, but elves, dwarves, gnomes, orcs, trolls and wizards lived on.

Star Wars also influenced many science fiction books, replacing stories like 2001: A Space Odyssey with swashbuckling space tales.  Spaceships no longer plodded through space, swords became standard fare, and roguish pirates were all the rage thanks to Han Solo

But that was back in the day.

In my mind, The Bartimaeus Trilogy bucks those trends in favor of more modern ones.

With the explosion of Harry Potter onto the lit scene (a book I first heard about from my friend’s Dutch parents when I was in college), wizards and magicians have been thrown into modern times and are no longer relegated to Middle Earths or even Medieval times.  Similarly, the success of Twilight (for proof of success see the review of Breaking Dawn in a previous posting) has spawned vampire and werewolf stories set in the midst of urban, modern areas.

The Bartimaeus Trilogy follows a similar suit.  Magicians have ascended to prominent positions (Prime Minister, Chief of Security etc) in the English government and throughout Europe because of the power they wield.  In what is a very nice touch, the author locates the power of the magicians in “demons” which are summoned and forced into servitude.  Magicians who can summon powerful demons to do their bidding are therefore more powerful and achieve greater status.

Unfortunately for the magicians, the demons do not enjoy being torn from their homes and forced to live a life of servitude.  If a magician were ever to get careless, the demon would immediately set upon the magician and kill him or her.  This threat ensures that magicians treat their demons with cruelty, caution and arrogance.  Magicians despise demons, demons despise magicians,  and so the cycle continues.

All of this leads us to Nathaniel, a small boy living under the tutelage of a rather ordinary magician who cruelly mistreats him and doesn’t recognize the boy’s immense potential.

The boy lashes out at this cruel treatment by summoning the powerful demon, Bartimaeus.

Bartimaeus has the ego of a Greek hero, the wit of a British comedian, and more sarcasm then even, well, me.  His outrage at being summoned by a mere boy to carry out childish whims leads him to say and do all sorts of humorous and potentially dangerous things.  Every few paragraphs we are treated to Bartimaeus’ narcissistic footnotes to his personal history.

After Nathaniel is humiliated by some elder magicians who firmly believe in the phrase “might makes right”, he sets Bartimaeus on a task to steal one of the magicians most powerful charms, the Amulet of Samarkand.  In doing so, Nathaniel unwittingly uncovers a plot to overthrow the current Prime Minister and puts himself and others around him in excessive danger.

Jonathan Stroud, the author, sets up an odd dynamic.  The expected hero of the story, Nathaniel, becomes as unpleasant as protagonists come.  His ambition makes him naive, unsavory, cold-hearted, and eventually gains him a foothold in the government at the expense of his soul (not literally).  On the other hand, Bartimaeus, who has very little free will of  his own, quickly wins the reader over to his side through his humor, feisty temperament and surprising grasp of what it means to be morally good.

Over the three books, the two characters trade barbs, indulge in their historical enmity, and generally don’t get along unless they have to.  By tracing the arc of Nathaniel’s maturity through his adventures with Bartimaeus, the reader comes to care about both characters and along the way there are gripping plot twists and exciting battles.

These books were certainly enjoyable and should resonate with many young adults.  There is no shortage of gore and death, and the author finds time to sprinkle in a bit of romance while he is busy setting the stage for magical machinations and enthralling escapades.

Stroud, Jonathan.  The Amulet of Samarkand. New York: Hyperion Books, 2003.

Ruiz Zafon’s second novel inhabits a similar space. His first novel, The Shadow of the Wind, was brought to my attention by a Chilean friend of mine who typically enjoys novels infused with magical realism.  Authors such as Isabel Allende and Garci Marquez frequently add touches of magical realism to their stories.  In my mind, The Shadow of the Wind turned out to be a wonderful novel and a very engaging read.  The love struck but unlucky teenager who discovers a mysterious book only to find out that copies of it are systematically being destroyed winds up in a number of macabre situations which propels the reader around Barcelona in the mid 1900’s.  Brilliant book.

The Angel’s Game, also set in Barcelona and scantly but firmly linked to The Shadow of the Wind, introduces us to another teenager.  From a broken home he slowly raises himself out of poverty by working for a newspaper and sheltering himself under the wing of an older writer.  This time Barcelona is recovering from WWI, and our young protagonist, David Martin, aspires to be a novelist.  As he slowly builds a name for himself over the years through his pulp fiction, he struggles to be the writer he wants to be until a French publisher by the name of Andreas Corelli commissions him to write a book.  But the money and good fortune that goes with the commission quickly dwindles, and David Martin slowly uncovers not only the twisted history of the house he lives in, but also the dangerous game his employer is playing with him.  There are subtle and not so subtle hints that the man behind the lucrative contract might be the Devil himself, the Bringer of Light.  The more enmeshed be becomes in the history surrounding him, the darker the gothic shadows that try to envelop him.

This time around, Ruiz Zafon fills his novel with enough twists and turns to make even the staunchest stomach weak.  As a hero, or perhaps an anti-hero, David does not provide the type of credibility one would need to sustain such a incongruous plot, and I found myself often wondering who was going crazy, myself or Mr. Martin?  The author has no problems painting Barcelona as a city filled with sinister alleys, morbid histories, and people who in one way or another are damned.  But as the story quickly unravels and re-winds itself into different shapes, David’s experiences never quite connect to form the same sort of cohesive thriller as in the first novel.  I have checked the bookshelf every time I visit the bookstore for a new novel from this author (look under R, not Z), and it might be natural that I created too great of expectations.   However, when the way got rough, I plowed ahead because I know what the author is capable of, and even here when he gets it right, you cannot question his sense of morbidity.  His unpredictable characters inhabit a world of shadows and mystery and they will stick with you even after you’ve stopped reading.  I still have hope that the third installment will take me back to the same magic I experienced the first time around.

Cover your heart!

Ruiz Zafon, Carlos. The Angel’s Game, Doubleday, New York, 2009.

Review: Henry Townsend, once a slave belonging to William Robbins, the son of Augustus Townsend (who bought himself out of slavery at the age off 22) and Mildred Townsend (purchased out of slavery by Augustus at the age of 26) was himself freed by his loving parents somewhere around 1843 when he too was entering his twenties. Due to the fact that Henry continued to be the property of William Robbins during the intervening years before his freedom, as well as the fact that his parents were only allowed to see Henry on Sundays, the relationship between the newly freed son and his parents struggled to live up to the promise that freedom held. Their unease with each other grows even more once Henry Townsend, a freed black man, purchases his own slaves.

Henry continues to amass wealth through the purchase of slaves, and he attempts to run his property to the best of his abilities. The advice that William Robbins, the owner of 113 slaves and Henry’s former master, gives him helps Henry keep his human chattel in line. Henry marries Caldonia, and it is Caldonia who must take over when Henry dies unexpectedly. She struggles to keep the estate running properly, and her life and the lives of the slaves she owns and is left to preside over disintegrate around her at an ever increasing pace until she cannot hold onto to what is hers.
Recommendation: This is not just the story of Henry or Caldonia, nor is it just the story of the slave Moses or the white slave-owner William Robbins. This story unravels the lives of each character and then weaves them together to present an unflinching and revealing look at slavery in its varied and conflicting forms. There are authors out there to be compared to. Faulkner. Morrison. But I don’t think this book is merely a combination of the two. There is a daring in this story that challenges the reader. Like the moment when Henry first slaps his own slave, this book reaches out and snaps us out of our own reverie.
For a long time slavery has been about black and white. Slaves were motivated by the desire to be free, and whites were motivated by power or greed or maybe compassion. In The Known World motivations are as disparate as the colors of skin. Each character struggles with the demands and expectations of a world defined by not only the law but also the racially charged interpretations of it. This is an eye-opening and challenging tale that is well worth exploring. It is deserved of the praise bestowed upon it.

Jones, Edward P.. The Known World, Harper Collins, New York, 2003.

Currently Reading: Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane

On Deck: The Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie

Recommendation: Let’s face it: most books that make it into movies are good. Whether the movie is good or not is another matter. This book is no different. Its rich character exploration, highlighted by the first person narrative, will seduce the reader with both direct and coy story telling. There is nothing flashy in the writing. Like the character of Hanna Schmitz ,it is blunted and unwavering. This is a simple book about simple people in a complicated world. Those two things cannot help but collide.
But there is something to be said for a book like this. It catches the reader off guard and then leans in until the balance one hopes to maintain is almost impossible to regain. When all is said and done, when the last page is turned, life goes back to normal only because the writing has stopped. I am positive that the story will continue to resound even after you hear the last scrape of the page as you turn it.

Schlink, Bernard. The Reader, Vintage Books, New York, 1999.

Currently Reading: The Known World by Edward P. Jones

On Deck: Matter by Iain Banks

Two rogues swindle and fight their way through the bloodthirsty and brutal landscapes of the 10th century. Amram, a towering pillar of virility, carries a giant axe known for its propensity to remove heads from necks. His companion is Zelikman, a scarecrow of a man clad all in black who uses a much less devastating but no less effective physicians lance. Their tongues are nearly as nimble as their weapons of choice and get them into and out of more trouble than a lifetime needs. Like two amiable brothers, they carry a strong bond between them, and they work together to separate the drunken and debauched from their money as easily as possible. They are mercenaries, criminals, thieves. They are gentlemen of the road, but when one of their plans goes awry, the two find themselves entangled in a war between nations, and they are forced to choose what is right and what is wrong.

Filaq is the son of a murdered war king whose land and power was stripped during a coup. Far too young to defend himself, Filaq is lucky to escape with the old keeper of the war king’s pachyderms. The old man sees that Amram and Zelikman can help the young boy escape those who hunt him down, and the two accept the job with their eyes firmly fixed on the reward they will receive when they the deliver the boy to his wealthy relatives. But things are never so easy. Filaq’s desire for vengeance drives him to either escape his new guardians or hurl invectives at them from various trussed up positions. And if that isn’t enough, to add injury to insults, Filaq winds up in the hands of those they were protecting him against. When Amram and Zelikman choose to go after him, they are embroiled in espionage, intrigue and a brewing conflict between savage Northern hordes and Khazars.

Recommendation: Michael Chabon is one of my favorite authors. Similar to most favorite Michaels of mine, he can do wrong. Sure, Jordan may have a gambling a problem, and Jackson is not the same guy that wrote Billie Jean twenty years ago, but they were still great at what they did, and you can’t take that away from them. At this point, Chabon has not retired nor has he gone Wacko Jacko, so rest assured that his writing career is still on track. This book is proof of that.

While it does not reflect the humorous pessimism of The Yiddish Policeman’s Union or the biting reality of his short stories, it captures the spirit of what imagination is all about. The two protagonists, polar opposite brethren, are reminiscent of the heroes that we love: the reluctant hero. Like many of the protagonists of books I’ve reviewed, including Ender Wiggyn in Ender’s Game or Lev Beniov in The City of Thieves, the two men are not concerned with saving many people besides themselves, but they wind up knee deep in conflict and being the heroes that people need. Like the two smugglers Han Solo and Chewbacca, Amram and Zilekman go searching for fortune and glory and getting much more than they bargained for.

The book is set in a time period that I am not very familiar with (950 A.D.), but the setting becomes natural as the scope of the tale becomes broader and broader. Each twist of the plot entangles the reader further into the journey of these two men, and I enjoyed ever page of it. I was never confused long enough to let it get in the way of my read, and by the time I was finished with the novel, I wanted only to be able to read more about the adventures of Zilekman and Amram.

Chabon, Michael. Gentlemen of the Road, Del Rey Books, New York, 2008.

Currently Reading: Pillars of Earth by Ken Follett

On Deck: The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano

Review: This book records the life and times of Enzo the dog. Enzo is part labrador, part poodle and german-shepherd, unofficially part terrier (because terriers are problem-solvers, and Enzo would like to believe that he comes from “a determined gene pool”) and wholly sagacious. Plucked as a pup from the lap of his mother by Denny Swift, Enzo becomes fast friends with his new owner. Frustrated by his lack of thumbs, lips that cannot pronounce words, and inability to sit on a toilet and flush it, Enzo works hard both to understand his master and to be understood. Surprisingly, television finally serves a useful purpose, and Enzo becomes assimilated to the urban world he inhabits through days spent watching T.V. while waiting for Denny to return home. The two share a common bond: race car driving. Denny possesses an uncanny ability behind the wheel, especially when weather conditions in the Pacific Northwest make track conditions far from ideal. The two, master and dog, share in Denny’s dream, but life gets in the way and they both must find ways to cope with the harrowing turns that are thrown at them.

Denny begins to make a life for himself. He gets married and soon finds himself with a beautiful wife and baby daughter. Enzo, despite feeling marginalized by these new arrivals, manages to see past these giant upheavals in his and Denny’s life. Uneasy truces are created, then solidified, bonds are forged, and the two becomes three and three becomes four, and Enzo becomes part of a family. And while Denny’s dream seems to suffer from the advent of his wife and daughter, he accepts his new responsibilities stoically and finds new joys.

Then Denny is given a chance to go back to what he loves, and he is presented with the opportunity to be part of a racing team. He studies and prepares. He wants to be ready to seize the chance that has been given to him. Enzo, his wife Eve, and his daughter Zoe support him as he leaves for days at a time to race. But just as Denny’s life seems to be coming together, Enzo watches it unfold around him. With no ability to communicate, he does everything he can to support Denny as the days grow bleaker and the clouds grow darker.

Recommendation: Garth Stein will be giving a talk at Charles Wright Academy on January 15, at 2:00 p.m. Admittedly, this book probably would not have fallen in my hands otherwise. While I love animals (even my former bloodthirsty dog, Grendel), I hate car racing. Nothing but right turns (it could be left, I am not sure). But Garth Stein, a Northwest native, turned racing into something greater, and at the heart of it is the wise and loving dog. Enzo anchors this narrative through his perceptive comments and also his inability to act. He shows the reader sides of life that might normally go unnoticed and even makes the reader be a touch more self-conscious about how people behave not only towards animals but also towards ourselves. Even at its most heart wrenching, Enzo is there to help get through it.

Oddly enough, I’d recently read a short story that is written through the perspective of a dog. Dave Eggers has an interesting story in his collection “How We are Hungry”. The dog at the heart of that story is wholly a dog, and Garth Stein gives us much more. Enzo is not some wild spirit barking unnecessarily at passing cars or running without abandon to go sniff the crotch of strangers. He is imbued with a soul to be envied, and I would not be surprised to learn that people who read this book view their dog differently for some time. It is a difficult journey that Denny and Enzo undertake, but it is one well worth being a part of.

Stein, Garth. The Art of Racing in the Rain, Harpercollins, New York, 2008.

Currently Reading: Gentlemen of the Road by Michael Chabon

On Deck: At Random by Bennett Cerf

Review: For some boys, life can be a lonely and desultory place which slowly grows grimmer and darker each day. When David’s mother dies, she takes with her most of the light and love that David really knew. The books which they once enjoyed together are now read by David and David alone. His father is a grave man fighting to keep he and his son together at the same time Britain fights to hold itself together during the second World War. The life that David once tolerated begins to unravel when his father takes a new wife and brings a little brother to the family. He now has no one to turn to.

They move to a new house, large and dusty, and it is here, amidst the cobwebs and shadows of the past, that David’s books begin to talk to him. He can hear them muttering during the day and whispering to him at night. They cajole him with their stories and frighten them with their tales. He learns of the other young boy who once lived there, and of the Crooked Man. He is frightened. Fantasy mingles with reality, illusions suddenly become truths, and David hears the pleading of his dead mother. He can save her, she tells him. But he must leave the world he knows and enter a world he does not trust.

When he can no longer stand the sound of his mother’s desperate voice, he leaves the house and goes to save her. But the world she is trapped in is a world filled with evil. The inhabitants are characters David knows, but they are grim and severe. The trees bleed, wolves prey on humans with sanguinary desire, and small children go missing while a king sits huddled on an expiring throne. David becomes ensconced in his own terror, and in order to survive, he will have to shed his childhood innocence.

Recommendation: John Connolly creates a world very reminiscent of the dour fairy tales that children grow up with, but he manipulates them to be a murky reflection of characters we know. This is compounded by the sparse writing of Connolly. The place that David finds himself in is very sinister, and this ominous tone carries the novel a long way. While it is the story of a child, it is not necessarily a story for children. The enchantment is rich with malevolence.

Like many tales about the transition out of youth, this is a story for adults who have already made that journey. This book will especially appeal to people who spent hours immersing themselves in stories when they were younger. The idea of becoming a part of the story you love is appealing, even if the story turns out to be a life and death struggle.

Connolly is able to keep the reader engaged because the character of David has a lot to surmount not only physically but also mentally. He has lost quite a bit, and this makes him pitiable, but because his desires are so dark, he is not the heroic protagonist one would expect. Following him on the journey to see if he can grow into this role is where the book’s strength lies, and I enjoyed following David through that.

Connolly, John. The Book of Lost Things, Washington Square Press, New York, 2006.

Currently Reading: Twenty Chickens For a Saddle by Robyn Scott

On Deck: Suggestions? I am nearly to the end of my most recent read, and I am looking for titles to indulge in.  Email me at rscotlan@charleswright.org or leave a comment!

As he tries to make his way home, a series of small mishaps leaves him on a plane with a man named Wednesday, a man who knows his name, a man who knows his wife died, a man who offers him a job. Shadow makes futile efforts to avoid this man, but Wednesday is like a bad penny; he always turns up. Without his wife to return to, Shadow needs to find something to hold onto. The more Wednesday talks, the more Shadow finds himself listening and latching onto what the man has to offer. Then the maelstrom begins.

Wednesday introduces Shadow to people who are never quite what they seem and who appear to step out of the pages of antiquity. The more they work together, the more Shadow becomes embroiled in something that he realizes is beyond him, a mortal, and better left to those with power, those who are gods.

Recommendation: Neil Gaiman works hard to embrace his readers into the mythology of the world. He touches on Norse, Irish, Native American, and Russian mythological figures (among many others). In an interesting twist, he moves these figures into American life as though they rode in the hulls of the first boats that came to American shores. Now they live here, feeding off the fading beliefs of the early inhabitants. He insinuates the gods into our daily lives: cab drivers, alcoholics, apartment tenants. Much of their mystique has faded, but it still lurks behind their shabby exteriors. America is slowly destroying them.

As the protagonist becomes more and more entangled with this previously unknown community, the book seems to lose its focus. The purposeful inclusion of mythology’s gods and goddesses forces its way to the forefront of the novel, and Shadow’s narrative falls to the wayside. As interesting as Wednesday and his colleagues are, the story of Shadow is the most engrossing. He spends a lot of time in a small town hiding from authorities who think he has killed members of their department. His good natured but taciturn personality makes him irrepressible, and it is not long before Shadow grows on the town and the town grows on him. It is here, amidst this society, that the book finds its groove.

The rest of the novel reads like a combination of horror and magical-realism as though the author can’t quite decide where he wants to take his novel. Due to this, the story swirls out of control. Shadow’s imposing presence is unable to anchor the novel, and much of it becomes overwhelming. The best part of the novel focuses on Shadow and a mystery in the small town where he hides. This story might have made for an interesting novel itself. The book struggles to right itself like a ship caught in a storm, and the reader must ride the tossing and turning until the very end.

Gaiman, Neil. American Gods, Hapertorch, New York, 2001.

Currently Reading: The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly

On Deck: Twenty Chickens For a Saddle by Robyn Scott

City of Thieves

Review: Eggs. Why did it have to be eggs? In a Russian city under siege by German forces, food runs scarce and eggs seem to be the scarcest of all. A Russian commander plans a birthday celebration for his beautiful, ice-skating daughter, and amidst the chaos of the war, he wants the very best for his sweetest little lady. What birthday would be complete without a cake, and what cake would be complete without eggs. He finds two men, Lev and Kolya, to steal these eggs and gives them one week to do so.

Cost of eggs in Leningrad during WWII: your life.

Lev is a teenage Russian Jew who in what could be his final act of rebellious youthfulness chooses to stay behind in besieged Leningrad to show his mother he is a man. Lev spends the war nights helping his city lookout for German bombers on the roof of his apartment building. One night a frozen German pilot parachutes into his neighbor hood, and Lev is caught on the streets after curfew pilfering the body. Thrown in jail, he finds that his cell mate is everything he is not. Tall, incredibly handsome, college-educated and confident, his cell mate Kolya has been accused of deserting his unit. Kolya claims his rendezvous with a woman kept him from making it back to his unit on time. Instead of death, they are given one last chance at redemption. The Russian commander gives them one week to find eggs.

Finding the eggs in a city with a starving populace is surely impossible, and their search increasingly puts their lives in danger. Death will find them, Lev doesn’t doubt it, but they are not sure if it will come from their fellow war-torn citizens, the Russian Commander or the Germans themselves.

Recommendation: The character of Lev is classic. Small for his age, shy, ignorant, and cowardly, he refused to flee with his mother and sister in an effort to prove his independence and manliness. Like many teenagers on the verge of adulthood, he acts recklessly and without much thought for the long run. Unable to be join the army because (despite his choice to stay behind) he is not yet 18, he volunteers on the rooftops and reminisces about his deceased father, a victim of Russian politics. He has everything to gain and everything to lose, and his journey will finally test him the way he has imagined.

Paired with the impossibly perfect Kolya, our little Jewish friend begins to learn life’s lessons from the Russian Casanova, and their uneasy truce slowly blossoms into a friendship. Kolya slips effortlessly from discussions about great literature to the ins and outs of seducing women properly. When his mind is not amongst the great novelists of his time, it is definitely in the gutter. The author does a great job of portraying his main character in a light consistent with teenage selfishness and awkwardness. Lev, as self-concious as any unproven teen, cannot help but sulk at the unfair burdens placed on his shoulders. Not only does he have to get killed to find eggs or not find eggs to get killed, but he has to live with the shame of being a virgin in the presence of (apparently) god’s gift to women. The humor found in the interactions helps to balance the depressing situation Leningrad finds itself in. Capturing the banter of two such characters is tricky, but Beinof does a fairly good job. T

At the core of the book is exactly what one should expect from a story about youthful men. Lev struggles to define himself as the man he wants to be, and Kolya starts to come to grips with the person he has become. It is surprise to both of them and the reader that despite their myriad differences, they have much in common. Together they both must examine what makes them human, and it is their struggle with the atrocities around them as well as the rays of hope that help make this story engaging.

Ulitmately, I cannot say that I loved this book nor can I say that I despised it. The character of Lev was somewhat hard to like, despite being able to understand his impetuousness. With many protagonists you quickly come to support them, love them, or even loathe them. Lev never resounded inside me. His lack of courage and tendency to shirk from social situations could not compel me to root for him until midway through the novel when a love interest in introduced. This is surprising because I myself was socially awkward, somewhat introverted, and hardly a candidate for potential heroics at the same age. Lev should have been a character I found familiar and interesting. Instead, I found him somewhat unauthentic and cold. Only towards the end of the novel did I feel really engrossed in his story.

Beinoff, David, City of Thieves, Viking, 2008, New York.

Currently Reading: American Gods by Neil Gaiman

On Deck: The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly