Assassin's Apprentice and Royal Assassin

What if you could read an animal's mind?  So many fantasy books have this as a theme, because let's face it, we are total suckers. Crispin, the fictional author in The Bone Clocks, even regretted his choice of genre, lamenting that he should have written books about lonely children that can talk to animals. (Ah, Crispin, your snarky observations were astute, indeed). It's true, I have read many sub-par fantasy novels with this common trope.  It would be too harsh of me to say these books (the first two in the Farseer Trilogy) are sub-par, but the second book was frustrating.  Indeed.  

I've thought about this, and honestly, I don't think I want to read my pet's mind.  I kind of already know what they are thinking anyway.  My girl cat:  Hey, I'm hungry, seriously, I'm hungry....for reals, getting hungry.  HUNGRY!  I would be like, I've GOT it. You want to be so fat you can't reach the window? I don't care...hungry. 

From my boy cat: Dude, (he talks like a surfer) I'm bored, where's that Bird thing?  You never play with it!  I do too, I'm going to watch you swing it around and just get super flat on this floor and watch you make it fly. How is that playing?  I'll go for it once. Maybe after about ten minutes, I gotta figure out his patterns, Dude.

Anyway, our boy hero in Assassin's Apprentice can speak to animals, and they are loyal, very intelligent and not nearly as manipulative as my animals.  I wish that this was the main theme of the book, but truly this is a "court intrigue" high fantasy.  Heavy on the intrigue.  Not as sophisticated, action-packed or byzantine as Game of Thrones, so it starts to kind of drag in the second book.  (Not that GOT always moves the plot forward with the speed of light either).  So, if you like characters that talk to animals, read the first book and consider yourself warned about the second. 

There is a lot of dog-talk in this book, so I think you should drink a Bloodhound: 2 parts gin, 1 part sweet vermouth, 1 part dry vermouth, and 2 or 3 crushed strawberries.  Shake with ice, strain and serve with a fresh strawberry.  I know strawberries aren't in season yet, but they will be. HUNGRY!  

        

    

Alex & Me

What is this water coming out of my eyes?  I did rub my eyes the other night just after eating salt and pepper pistachios, which I regret.  I do not regret those pistachios, no way, it was the eye rubbing, yeah, that was an error. Alex & Me is a non-fiction book about a scientist and her work on the cognitive abilities of her African Grey parrot, Alex.  Alex was very famous and the whole book starts with memorials as to his untimely passing.  Do not read this book if you've just lost a pet or other loved one, you will...be...a...mess.

The sad part is only the first part, once that's over, Pepperberg explains her thirty year study to understand this super cute bird's brain.  That sounds kind of boring, but I didn't think it was.  You should keep in mind that Pepperberg is not a typical non-fiction author, she is the scientist behind the whole project so she doesn't mess around. It's a small book.  I liked it, but I really love animals, and she writes this for us "norms." If you consider me normal, which is debatable.  By the way, we had a parakeet when I was a kid, as awesome as he was...um, I'm good on bird ownership--they will chew on anything, including your lampshades and poop indiscriminately.  

If you read this, (and even if you don't) you should definitely check out Alex's news clips on YouTube.  He was on several news segments and he was also on Nova.  He speaks quite clearly for a bird and I'm driving poor Dave crazy with my impressions.  I can't help myself.  When Alex is bored or frustrated, he wants to back to his cage saying, Wanna go back. Who hasn't been at a crappy party and thought that?  Truth, Alex, truth.

Alex often says: Wanna drink of water.  He says that when he genuinely thirsty or when he just wants to interrupt his chores.  If you "wanna" drink with something stronger, I think a bird themed drink is appropriate.  Love Birds: 1&1/2 oz. vodka, 2 oz. sweet and sour mix (preferably homemade--easy to do and worth it), 1 dash dark rum and 1/2 oz grenadine. This should be a pink drink.  Apparently when you scratch Alex's head the whites around his eye turns pink, which is the parrot equivalent of blushing, how adorable is that?

Wolf in White Van

Hulk write book titles now.  Wolf on white van sound cool too.  Maybe wolf have rising moon in background?  Sound awesome.  Wolf in White Van was not on my radar but recommended by a friend and is, well, a weird book.  Our narrator is the designer of a role playing game in which your moves are done through old-school snail mail and the designer tells you what happens next.  That sounds oddly appealing to me.  You get fun mail and play a game that takes a month to do two moves. My mail consists of Reach magazines and those moves are no fun, no fun at all.  

Not to get all "Comic Book Guy" on you, but part of this book talks about an area I know all too well and frankly, John Darnielle really blows it.  Dude, just get someone to read your draft if you don't know something.  QUIT GUESSING, FOOL. It's probably a good thing I'm not an equine expert because I read so many books with horses.   I'm sure I would be like, "Ah, that breed did not exist in that time period, and if I'm not mistaken, which I'm not, that character did not transport himself via a time machine. Thank you."

I have two friends that liked this book, but for some reason it was so not my thing. It's a pretty depressing character study with no wizards (despite the nerdy references), no snacking and the plot is told "backwards." Its one of those books, either you get it or don't. I also don't like the author's music (he's a fairly famous indie musician), especially his voice, because it is what I can only describe as "punchable."

Drinks: This book reminded me of a recipe in Jane and Michael Stern's book called Square Meals, which is as much a history of war-time food and eating than say a typical cookbook, but it is pretty funny and fascinating (especially if you are food nerd like me). I remember they wrote something like: "Are you ever having a bad day, and just want to make it worse? Well, drink Crust Coffee."  So this is the the basic recipe:  Take toast crusts or ends, not burnt (heaven forbid) and put those in a pitcher with enough hot water to cover them and let steep until cool. Strain and sweeten to taste. Enjoy?

The Bone Clocks

This novel has more texture than a 90's art installation piece.  The Bone Clocks is part fantasy, satire, dsytopian tale, modern fiction and some new genres I'm not even sure what they are. It's told from multiple points of view, it has an insane amount of names, it takes place on multiple continents and is set in the past and the future.  It has inside jokes that I knew were inside jokes but didn't quite get. In that respect…well, its quite British.  Quite.

One character is a British author named Crispin Hershey.  Crispin is a weird name for Americans.  For me, it does not exactly conjure up super sexy images but, you know, maybe it could work.  Steven Soderbergh could make a sequel to Magic Mike called Magic Crispin.  Announcer: "Ladies, put down your tea cozies and give it up for CRISPIN!!"  (Crispin, fat, middle-aged, pale author comes out in a smoking jacket and pipe) Crispin: "Well, isn't this droll."

I liked The Bone Clocks but be prepared for a challenge.  Instead of one long ride, prepare yourself to go the carnival instead.  Oh, we are going to go on the Scrambler for a while, and now the Ferris Wheel, oh, and a little detour on some Aaron Sorkin section also known as The Teacups.  Eventually you get back on the big coaster but you feel a little dizzy.  It's like that.

I actually had the flu for a bit when I was reading this, so my drink of choice was an irresponsible amount of Nyquil. I think it would make sense to drink with a classy, masculine winter drink.  The Chancellor:  2 oz. blended Scotch, 1 oz. ruby port, 1/2 oz. french vermouth,  2 dashes of orange bitters.  Stir well with cracked ice, strain and serve in a cocktail glass. 

Middlesex

So you want to write a Pulitzer Prize winning novel?  First, you should know that you only get ten grand, which really isn't all that much, in fact, it seems kind of lame.  Second, there are some motifs you really need to cover.  Now if you don't know what a motif is, you are already doomed, so don't even bother.  Anyway, if you do know what a motif is, you will need at least three of the following: a coming of age story, the immigrant experience, a multi-generational tale, the novel should be relatively large, the protagonist should have to go through some serious difficulties (especially as a child), your main character should also belong to some ethnic or religious minority group and suffer some kind of lasting ennui.  Got it?  Just sit down and write it.  Oh, by the way, it will take about 4 years and but then $10,000 will be all yours. That's $2,500 a year---moneybags.

Middlesex, which won in 2003, has a lot of these.  It's like Eugenides had some kind of bet going, just how many of these motifs can I fit in one novel?  The answer is most of them.  It think there should be some kind of writer's grab bag.  Like your friend lists some things, then you reach into the bag and you have to create a novel using all them. "Hey, I got zebras, hepatitis and Vichy France!" "I got elephantitis, religious persecution and Eskimos!"  I'm telling you, it would cure your writer's block and make a for a good movie.  Because, obviously, winning the Pulitzer Prize is for chumps.

Middlesex is a fine novel but beefy and sweeping.  That sounds like a janitor that bodybuilds on the side. Be warned, while it's just over 500 pages it reads like a 800 pluser.  If you don't mind that Eugenides got Intersexuals, Incest and Detroit in his grab bag, then read it if you haven't already. 

Ok, this is about a Greek family so it seemed appropriate to have a Greek cocktail, but frankly ouzo scares me a little.  Maybe I've never had the good stuff.  My policy is there are no bad liquors only bad quality liquors.  Anyway, try this one (which is like a Greek mudslide): Greek Cafe: 1 part Creme de Cacao, 1 part Kaluha, 1 part Frangelico and 1 part Metaxa.  Combine ingredients and shake with ice.  You can serve in a shooter or small cordial glass.  What is Mextaxa, you ask?  It is a brandy-based Greek spirit. (it gets a tiny shout-out in this book).  No Mextaxa?  Apparently you can substitute brandy with a little bit of bourbon....now, that kind of takes the Greek out of it, just like the 1988 presidential election. Zing!

Slow Regard of Silent Things

If you put people on pedestals, you could be looking at a whole lot of nose hairs.  Patrick Rothfuss even wrote a disclaimer as a forward to this book, which warned us that you might not want to read it. (FYI it has no plot).  The reviews on Goodreads are kind of intense; they range all over the place from gushing to crushing. Some fans are so angry that he's messing around with this little novella when he should be finishing his Kingkiller Chronicle series.  I'm like, has George R.R. Martin taught you nothing?  Just deal with it.  I mean, learn to bake bread, improve your push-ups and if that's too much effort, at least order some sea monkeys. Just take it down about 20 notches.

He is right; you may not want to read it.  This is a quirky little book about a semi-feral woman that lives in the catacombs of the magic university, an important place in the Kingkiller Chronicle series.  Auri, who is either a simpleton or has child-like qualities, has some "mental problems" that seem "fun" now because she's young and cute but once she gets older she'll be sent to an institution.  Let's face it, this chick has a bad case of OCD, a possible eating disorder and attributes sentient feelings to inanimate objects. How fun is she! 

Even if you are a fan of his series, I would skip this.  It really is just a glimpse into the life a minor, but mentally unstable, character.  Think of this as a fantasy version of reality TV (with less alcohol, boobs and cat fights--in fact it has none of these--she does have a fight with a blanket--seriously, a blanket).  Anyway, getting this story out of Rothfuss' system will probably make the last book better. That book is apparently in the editing stage.  That being said, I would like to read the last book in my lifetime. (*bakes bread*...*doing push-ups*) 

Whether you read this of not it's Christmastime and chilly so read this while drinking Hot Milk Punch: 1 oz. dark rum, 1 oz. brandy, 1 tsp superfine sugar.  Stir well then pour into a mug very hot milk add a whisper of nutmeg.  Pass out.  

Authority

I cannot imagine having a new boss that said, "Well, even though my real name is John, I want you all to call me Control." I would think, great, there is no scenario where this is going to be good.  Like, can I even joke with him about this?  No, you cannot, because Control is the director of a super secret agency called the Southern Reach, which is an agency inside the super secret government.  Heads of super secret agencies do not get irony or kitschy humor.  They do not have plush vampire bats on their desks or give out Mexican jumping beans to visitors.  Of course, I would say, "What's your middle name, Tool?" (But I wouldn't say it to his face because c'mon, super secret government benefits.  I would probably start a super secret twitter account called The Control Panel).

Authority is the second in the Southern Reach Trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer.  I didn't like this one nearly as much as the first book. Much of it is Control trying to second guess why each character said what and which ones are trying to stab him in the back.  Hey, Vandermeer, this is fantasy, not reliving my junior high experience.  Here's hoping the last book in the series is more like the first ( maybe even better?) Fingers crossed. 

Apparently when people come back from Area X, their memory is a bit...off.  Why not drink with a Brain Duster? 1 ounce rye whiskey, 1 ounce absinthe, 1 ounce sweet vermouth, 1 dash Angostura bitters.  Stir with ice, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass.  This looks so good, it seems worth it to get a little scribble-scrabble.