As someone who spends most of her time reading (and writing) literary fiction, I have a hard time writing about graphic novels. I am unsure of what metrics to use to measure their success or failure, and spend a lot of time trying to determine what those might. Just when I get myself worked up into a nice confused tizzy, I kick myself in the ass and go back to the most basic question we should ask of any piece of art we’re trying to talk about, does it work?

Identity Crisis, a graphic novel written by Brad Melzer and illustrated by Rags Morales, works. Going into the book I was a little leery. My friend Wolfdogg had loaned it to me, and he has the distinction of being the person who has suggested some of the shittiest books I’ve ever read.

But when it comes to graphic novels I’ve learned that he can be trusted. He has yet to steer me wrong.

So anyway, Identity Crisis is basically a murder mystery featuring superheroes. It’s all kinds of awesome. It opens on the Elongated Man reminiscing about his courtship with his wife and their relationship over the years. Of course just as we’re all smitten with Mrs. Elongated Man, we learn that she has been killed.

The Justice League is pissed and on a quest to find out who is behind the gruesome the act. What unravels is, like I said, a murder mystery with all kinds of twists and turns. While I’m not generally a fan of genre, this one works because it has pictures and superheroes. And, besides, who doesn’t want to see Wonder Woman deliver a eulogy?

Being that I’m not a hardcore DC comics (or any comics for that matter) fan, I wasn’t shocked or appalled by what I read in Identity Crisis (okay, I was shocked once with what they did once to Batman, but I won’t give that away). I was, however, wholly captivated by the story. It’s a cliche to say it, but this a real page turner.

I gotta admit I was a little disappointed when I found out whodunit. But I think this is often the case with the mystery genre. The author holds back that little bit of crucial information that had it been revealed within the course of the story, you might have been more in tune with who the possible suspects were. I know it sounds like they’d be giving away the ending, but a writer with serious chops could have their characters stay emotionally honest while still ratcheting up the tension and casting doubt on all those involved.

But still, Identity Crisis is pretty damn good even if the ending leaves you feeling a bit tricked.

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All About Lulu is so good that I am willing to forgive its author, Jonathan Evison, for being a little coy with the reader. This is saying a lot. Next to adverbs and Chuck Klosterman, coyness is my biggest literary pet peeve. But what Lulu lacks in upfrontness she sure makes up for in humor, emotion, and, as odd as it sounds, honesty.

All About Lulu is less about Lulu and more about William Miller (not the “Almost Famous” William Miller but nearly as nerdy) and his obsession with her. Lulu is Will’s stepsister who joins Will’s family after his mom dies and his body-building dad marries Willow, Lulu’s mom. Will was having a tough go of it after losing his mom, his only ally in the family, until Lulu comes along.

In Lulu he finds a kindred spirit, another vegetarian in the land of meat-eaters. He and Lulu grow close, so close they even develop their own secret language consisting of code words, blinks, and clicks. But then all that goes to hell when Lulu goes away to cheerleading camp when they’re fifteen. When she returns Lulu cuts Wil out of her life and takes to cutting and other self-destructive behavior. Thus, William’s obsession begins.

But, thankfully, this obsession is only one of the threads that run through the novel. Basically this is a book about William Miller and the things that happened in his life. It might sound like a yawner, but it’s so not yawn-worthy at all. Will has an original and engaging voice. While Evison, the author, is coy about what happened to Lulu that summer choosing to dance around that information until a sort of climax, William, the character, is honest to the point of it being nearly painful. And it is awesome.

William is a great, great character filled with despair and hope and bitterness. He has all those things that make characters so endearing and memorable.

And the scenes! Did I mention the scenes?

Picture if you will, a puny American vegetarian kid at the Mr. Olympia pageant(?) in Sydney oiling up his dad for competition. Picture four teenagers driving out to the dessert where the concrete dinosaurs live, drunk on cheap rum, three of them in love with Lulu. Picture a hot dog as a transcendental experience. Picture a crazy, mixed up family that grows apart and comes together and apart again.

Through it all is William Miller, flawed, loving, scared William Miller. He’s just like us and nothing like us all at the same time, which might be why reading his story is so damn engaging.

Want more Evison?
Read his Larghearted Boy Book Notes essay
Read an excerpt on Poets & Writers
Visit his Web site

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1. An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken:This was the best book I read all year. No hemming, no hawing, no second guessing — the best. McCracken’s memoir about giving birth to a stillborn child and all that follows is heartbreaking, darkly funny, and something everyone on the planet should read. Bold claims, I know. But really, everyone who ever has to deal with the grief-stricken should read this book. It’s virtually a how-to guide. In the hands of a less-skilled writer this book would have come off as maudlin and self-pitying, but McCracken writes about her sorrow so beautiful you are willing to forgive her anything. This book is stunning and I always feel like a bit of freak trying to push a book about a dead baby on people, but it’s so much more than that. I feel bad for you if you don’t read this book because you are missing out on the kind of tragic, uplifting experience that literature can bring into your life. [review]

2. The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson: I put this book at #2 because I think it’s such a crowd-pleaser. I can’t imagine anyone reading The Gargoyle and not enjoying it. Like The Time Traveler’s Wife, it’s a big gushy romance wrapped in a really clever concept. When you get down to it, who doesn’t love a romance? A pornstar in a car accident burned over much of his body + a might be schizophrenic sculptress who carves gargoyles out of marble and thinks she’s been alive since the 1300s = a story so captivating that I didn’t even notice if the book is well-written. This is a high compliment coming from me, the person who has been known to copy-edit books as she reads them. [review]

3. America America by Ethan Canin: This one is hard to write about without letting out a dreamy sigh. In my defense I really loved this book way, way before I met him and he blew my mind. Simply put, America America is a novel about politics and class in America. But this is a book by Ethan Canin and there’s nothing simple with the way he weaves this tale bringing to life some of the most memorable minor-characters I’ve ever read ever read about in a novel. Plus, because he is such a master he concocts scenes that are so beautiful and so perfect they will take your breath away. Though there were a few flaws, I do have to warn you if you read this book you will want to eschew all other activities including eating, sleeping, and bathing. [review]

4. Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi: For someone who claims to not enjoy memoirs, this is the third one to make the list (I wrote that Night of the Gun stuff below, first). Satrapi’s is a graphic memoir about growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution and then being sent away because her parents couldn’t bear to have her raised in a country that treated women so poorly. What makes Persepolis so brilliant is that it perfectly blends this coming of age story with the rich history of Iran and the political upheaval it has suffered. I learned more about the political and religious history of this part of the world than from anything else I’ve ever read (and I was a political science major).

5. The Night of the Gun by David Carr: It’s a little weird to talk about how much you enjoyed a junkie newspaper reporters memoir. Especially when you remember that part where he left his twin infant daughters in a car on a cold Minnesota winter’s night so he could go get high. But you know what, I loved The Night of the Gun. Since he was writing in a post James Frey, Stephen Glass, Jayson Blair sort of environment, Carr hired a reporter to help him fact-check his own story. Pretty clever. However, that constant reminder throughout the story got a bit tedious. That bit of tedium didn’t take anything away from the crazy, crazy story of Carr’s life. Newspapers, cocaine, rock and roll, and Minnesota — all the ingredients for a kickass book. [review]

6. The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff: This debut novel was my summer crush. A mysterious monster is found floating, dead in Lake Glimmerglass on the day that Willie Upton returns home to Templeton in disgrace. She then spends the summer trying to find out who her biological father is all while dealing with her former-hippie turned born again christian mom and all the other things that one has to deal with when returning home to the place they grew up. The story is charming and and entertaining, and Groff flexes her writing muscle by telling much of her story through the voices of the founders of Templeton. [review]

7. Bang Crunch by Neil Smith: It surprises me that this is one of only two short story collection to make the list this year. I have a soft spot for short stories and usually spend a majority of my time reading them. Maybe it’s because I spent so much of my time picking through various anthologies. I don’t know. What I do know is that Smith’s collection was so good and so many of the stories so perfect that I pondered for a minute hanging up my pen and calling it quits. But then, he gave me hope by offering a single dud in the collection. Which, for a collection is really amazing. The first story of this collection, “Isolettes” is so beautiful and pitch perfect that it should be immediately anthologized alongside Lorrie Moore, Charles D’Ambrosio, Stuart Dybek, and George Saunders. [review]

8. Rock On: An Office Power Ballad by Dan Kennedy: Like an episode of The Office, Dan Kennedy’s memoir about working in the corporate headquarters of a Atlantic records are so uncomfortable and true that it makes you cringe. This memoir is the book that Ed Park’s Personal Days and Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came to the End should have aspired to be: funny, true, a tale of corporate America and how asinine and dehumanizing it can be. [review]

9. The Descendants by Kaui Hart Hemmings: This was the most delightful discovery of the year. Years ago I had read Hemmings’ short story “Minor Wars” and remembered loving it to death. This prompted me, on a lazy Sunday to go in search of her other work and discovered that she had expanded that story into a novel. Hot Damn! This story of Matt King, his dying wife, and their two daughters is beautiful, compassionate, and so well-written it will bring tears to your eyes. [review]

10. Self-Help by Lorrie Moore: I bumped Philip Roth’s Indignation out of this spot in favor of an older Moore collection. And, to be honest, this isn’t even that strong of a collection. Many of the stories are written in the annoying second person and that can get kind of grating (and in a delicious bit of irony I turned to the book quite a few times while writing by own annoying second person story). However, this book makes the list because I sleep with it next to my pillow. My bed is often loaded with books in various states of read-ed-ness, but this one stays there because sometimes I when I can’t sleep or I’m feeling a bit of the mean reds, I pick it up and read “How to Be a Writer” and everything is okay in the world for a little bit. [review]

The post The 10 Best Books I read in 2008 appeared first on I Will Dare.

Because I always want to help the gentle reader, I compiled a list of books that you should all avoid like the plague. I do this kind of thing because I care. I do.

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Friend: Jesus said fuck. The end.
The Screwtape Letters: Good Christian blah blah blah blah blah blah blah zzzzzzzzz.
Twilight: Me helpless girl, you glittery Vampire, let’s go to prom.
Candy Girl: I’m a quirky stripper who writes unbelievable bullshit.
Things I Learned From the Women Who Dumped Me: TV writers bad at writing things not meant for TV.
Netherland: Cricket + New York + No Plot = nap-inducing.
Downtown Owl: ND boring, adverbs, people shallow, adverbs, and then they die.

Avoid these books people. I suffered so you don’t have to.

The post The 7 worst books I read in 2008 reviewed in 10 words or less appeared first on I Will Dare.

Andrew Davidson’s debut novel The Gargoyle, is the kind of book that gives me nextbookaphobia.

This is a condition marked by great fear of starting a new book because there is no way that it can possibly live up to the last book you read, because that last book was really fucking good. I’ve experienced this condition exactly twice this year. First with Ethan Canin’s America America and then again with Elizabeth McCracken’s An Exact Replica of a Figment of my Imagination.

It’s a little hard to write (or talk) about The Gargoyle without sounding like a cross between a really excited four-year-old or a complete stoner. When trying to describe the books there’s a lot of disconnected “and then and thens.” Here, I’ll show you:

So there’s this pornstar who is in a terrible car accident while he’s driving coked up and drunk, and he spills bourbon in his lap, and then is burned over most of his body — losing his penis in the process. So then he’s in the hospital and this mysterious schizophrenic woman named Marianne comes to visit him and she says they were married in a past life like 700 years ago and she’s been waiting for him for all this time. And then so they become friends and oh Marianne is a sculptor who carves gargoyles out of stone and oh during the unnamed narrator’s recovery she tells him stories not just of their past together (she was an Englethal nun in Germany in the 1300s who worked at a scriptorium) but about some great love stories of the past. There is some other stuff too.

See what I mean? Crazy. This is a big, big book about all-consuming love. The story is so engaging that even my irrepressible editor was suppressed through most of the book (there were a few overblown sentences or descriptions that caused a bit of eye-rolling). After I read this book I quickly dubbed it the new Time-Traveler’s Wife (which is a high compliment).

Like The Time Traveler’s Wife, The Gargoyle is a big, beautiful, goobery romance wrapped up in a wonderful, engaging concept.

This has become the new book that I am trying to push off on anyone who will listen, because it was that much fun and I can’t imagine a single literate person who would dislike the journey that Davidson takes the reader on.

Want more about The Gargoyle
Read an excerpt
Visit Burned By Love to read about or share intense love stories
Largehearted Boy Book Notes essay

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