Top 10 Books of 2012

 

Let me take this opportunity to offer a belated "Happy New Year!" to my tens of followers. I hope that 2013 is off to a good start for all.

Yes, I have been a bad blogger again. Life has been challenging. Blogging is time-consuming. And that's all I'm going to say about that. I thank you all for sticking with me, and I'll try to do better moving forward. That's what new year's resolutions are for, right?

One of my favorite things about the end of the old year and the beginning of the new one are all the top 10 lists. I have participated by posting a top 10 lists of my favorite books each year. This year was among the very hardest to narrow down due to the sheer number of books I read in 2012. In the end, these were my choices. It is my habit and tradition to only rank my #1 book. All others are listed in the order in which they were read.

1. Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon

The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson

Gods Without Men by Hari Kunzru

The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker

In One Person by John Irving

Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple

This is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz

The Round House by Louise Erdrich

A Hologram for the King by Dave Eggers

Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rivka Brunt

*****

I have to tell you, I have spent the past several days crafting a fantastic blog post. I wrote a paragraph or more on why each book was selected. It had live links to the books, the authors, video I shot, and lots of cover art. I saved it dozens of times along the way, and I was almost finished. It would have been posted tonight. And then it just... disappeared. And only the tinest bit of it was recoverable. I don't know why. I'm fairly sick about it. And I don't have the energy to recreate the effort. So, I'm afraid all you get this year is a list. :-(

Suffice it to say, I cannot recommend these 10 books highly enough.

In brighter news, my next post will list all 202 books I read in 2012.

Get out the vote!

Last week, I received this email from novelist Ayelet Waldman:

To win this election, we have to do whatever it takes to convince swing state voters to turn out and vote for Obama.

To that end, I'm hosting a call party

Sunday November 4th

4 pm

Please join me. You bring your cell phone, I'll supply the treats.

Ayelet

I don't know how I got this invitation from Ayelet. I mean, I don't know if she sent this to everyone on her mailing list, or just folks in the Bay Area, or people she sort-of knew, or what. But I got it, and it was welcome.

I know this is a book blog and not a political blog, so see how I integrate the literary and the political on this important day...

The fact is, Ayelet Waldman and her husband Michael Chabon live over in Berkeley, right across San Francisco Bay from me. It's a pretty safe assumption, on both of our parts, that we share a similar left-leaning ideology. And both Ayelet and Michael have been extremely public and outspoken in their support of the President, so I don't think I'm outing anyone. I was pretty sure they'd visited the White House at some point, but it turns out there are far more connections than just that. A quick Google search informs me that Ayelet and Barak Obama were at Harvard Law together. She was hugely active in his 2004 campaign, and attended the 2004 Democratic Convention as an Obama delegate. She, Michael, and their kids also attended his historic inauguration in DC. (And as a native Washingtonian, I still remember my bitterness at not being able to fly home for the occasion.) As for Michael, he went one step further--he wrote Mr. Obama a significant cameo appearance in his most recent novel, Telegraph Avenue (which I rave about here).

So, Ayelet, Michael, and me, we're all good, Obama-supporting Democrats. Personally, as a San Franciscan, I always have a sense of frustration that my vote is meaningless, or "doesn't count." I mean, I don't think that anyone is worried about the Democrats winning San Francisco, or California for that matter. I'm just voting with the pack out here. I want to make a difference in Florida and Michigan and Ohio and Nevada! And that's what Ayelet's invitation allowed me to do in a very small way. I was thrilled to be able to accept her invitation--and not just because I was curious to, let's face it, check out the home of these two writers that I so admire.

I have teased on this blog in the past that Ayelet has squinted at me on many occasions and asked, "How do I know you?" I decided to head that off at the pass by marching up her porch on Sunday and announcing, "Hi, Ayelet, I'm Susan Tunis. Thanks for having me over." To my surprise, when I said my name, Ayelet indicated that she knew who I was, and I believed her. ( Don't know what that's about.) But, I have to tell you that she and Michael were the consummate hosts. They were both friendly, casual, and inviting, and people--they'd turned their home into a war room! There were volunteers at computers and on phones everywhere. I'd arrived exactly on time, but when I entered their kitchen (filled, as promised, with all the snacks and beverages anyone could possibly want) there was activity in full swing. It left me wondering if they'd held their call party in shifts? Had they been doing it all day?  All weekend?  All fall?

What I can tell you is that those two are campaigning pros. They weren't on the phone, but circulating constantly: welcoming, training, troubleshooting. "Anyone having trouble getting on the Internet? Michael will help you." At another point, Ayelet told us to take over her house, to spread out, because we had the run of the place. "I don't care. You can go make calls on my bed--don't tell my husband I said that." (I think it's safe to say that Michael Chabon has better things to do than read my blog.) I can further assure you that I did not wander their house. The parts I saw on the first floor were very, very nice, but also felt real--like real people with four kids lived there. It was a nice, warm, friendly house. That was more than enough to satisfy my curiosity.

Actually, I felt kind of shy being in their home. I've had so many interactions with both of them in bookstores and at lit events over the years. And I feel pretty comfortable in that environment, because it's the right time and place to discuss books and be a fan. But on Sunday, I was a guest in their home, and I was there to do an important job--one I felt really strongly about giving my all. Michael was super friendly when he saw me, but I had a phone to my ear, and it just didn't feel like the right time or place to be that geeky girl who loves his books. (I'm a fan of Ayelet's as well, BTW. I've read and enjoyed quite a few of her books, starting way back with the Mommy Track mysteries.) So, I didn't really kibitz with my hosts or the other guests while I was there. Just the most minimal small talk. But everyone was friendly and working towards a common cause. I made as many phone calls as I could over the course of a few hours. I did the best I could to persuade people in Nevada and Ohio to turn out to vote for Obama.

Before I left, I again thanked Ayelet for inviting me. I told her the best part of joining them was all they taught me and that I could now do on my own moving forward. ("Yes, that's sort of the idea.") I only wish that I'd learned earlier! But I have confidence that my newly-acquired political activism skills will get called upon in the future. Now MoveOn.org and Obama for America have all my info. I suspect I'll be called on again. And again. And I'll answer the call, because I do feel strongly about issues and the direction of this country. I'm so lucky to live in a city where almost everyone thinks like I do. We're proud of our "San Francisco values" out here.

I don't know if you share my opinions or if you'll be voting for my guy, but I urge you to get out and vote today. This is the time to let your voice be heard. It's a privilege, and I get excited every time I do it. Please, get out the vote!

And one final thank you to Ayelet Waldman and Michael Chabon for opening their home to all of us in the hope that we could do some collective good. Their generosity and just...awesomeness, it staggers. Go out and buy their books or something. They're amazing people.

An Evening at "Brokeland Records" with Michael Chabon

Yes, I've been a bad, bad blogger.  I basically took the summer off.  It was a rough summer, and I needed something really special to jump-start my blog for the fall lit season.  That something special was delivered to me by Michael Chabon and the good folks at HarperCollins.  Michael's contribution was the writing of Telegraph Avenue, which has just become my favorite read of 2012.  I'm very proud to have written the "most helpful" review of the novel on Amazon, and my review of Telegraph Avenue can be read on the blog here.  There is nothing better than being able to sing the praises of a book you truly loved.

So, the publishing industry isn't known for wildly creative marketing events, but kudos to HarperCollins for their promotion of Telegraph Avenue.  For one week, they've turned Diesel Books in Oakland--very close to where the novel is set--into the fictional Brokeland Records at the heart of the novel, complete with signage, shopping bags, and vintage vinyl for sale!  I shot 30 seconds of video as I approached the store.  I was jay-walking in heels and blinded by the sun, so you get what you get.  You can just see the record bins at the front of the store as the video ends.





Completists are invited to view a one-minute tour of the inside of the store. In addition to launching the novel, the evening was a benefit for 826 Valencia, founded by Dave Eggers.  Video of Eggers talking about his organization and hopeful plans for a future Oakland branch, as well as his introduction of Michael Chabon may be viewed here. Finally, Michael took the stage, and began the evening with some old technology and a musical interlude. This may well be the only place you can hear the original composition, the "Theme from Telegraph Avenue."





Afterwards, Michael shared his affection for Diesel Books, his "neighborhood bookstore" and our hosts for the evening. He extolled the numerous cakes that had been baked for the event, which can be better seen in the photograph above. And briefly, he spoke about Telegraph Avenue's genesis, and set up the excerpt he was about to read. The second video is the reading from the novel.









Next, Michael opens the Q & A with questions about some of his earliest musical experiences, how the novel came about, what it's like to write about a world he knows intimately, and the joy of unusual words. (Am I the only person utterly charmed by his use of the phrase "consensus reality"?)






More questions about neighborhood stores he misses, paper versus e-books, book bundling (with a consult from the "publishing industry"), favorite live concerts, and recommendations for children (with a consult from a child).





And that was the end of the Q & A. Afterwards, Michael promoted a raffle to benefit 826 Valencia.  The grand prize is a vintage portable 8-track cassette player, much like the one carried by Julie Jaffe in the novel, and a Telegraph Avenue mix tape recorded by Michael.  He's a nostalgic guy, and this is just funny...


 


And finally it is cake time:




Uploading this video takes forever! (No wonder I took the summer off.) The good news

for you, but bad news for me, is that I have heaps of video and book reviews stacked up and ready for posting. I will try to get back to my regular posting schedule, because there are so many good books coming out each week this time of year, and great authors coming through San Francisco nightly.

  For now, I'm delighted to have shared a really special launch party for a really special book. Michael will be touring extensively this fall. Check his schedule and see if he'll be coming to you. Oh, and if you'd like a signed first edition of this fantastic book, I can't imagine a better place to order from than our good friends at Diesel Books.

The church of vinyl

Telegraph Avenue
by Michael Chabon

Depending on who you ask, Michael Chabon is either one of the finest writers of the English language working today or he is the finest writer of the English language, full stop. My opinion vacillates between the two. A reputation like that comes with some pretty lofty expectations for each new book. I'm pleased to say that Chabon's latest, Telegraph Avenue, did not disappoint.

At the core of this novel is Brokeland Records, described at points as "the church of vinyl" and "an institution." You know the place, or someplace like it—a down on its heels shop that's a gathering spot for a passionate community of its own making. Brokeland is owned by Archy Stallings (black) and Nat Jaffe (white, Jewish) and these partners echo the diversity and cultures of the Berkeley/Oakland neighborhoods straddled by the eponymous avenue.

This is a long book. It's not epic. I'm not even sure that it's sprawling. But it is full. By the time you reach the end, you will be thoroughly familiar with the businesses, marriages, and families of both Archy and Nat. You'll have met and followed their lives, and the lives of their customers, their adversaries, and one well-educated parrot. You'll know the intimate details of their relationships and their personal histories. Chabon packs a whole heap of detail and digression into the course of his 480 pages, and that doesn't even include a boatload of pop culture references to 70's jazz, Blaxploitation films, and martial arts.

Chabon's affection for his characters is contagious and it's hard not to love

Michael displays a rare copy of the Theme from Telegraph Avenue

them, despite some glaring flaws. However, the Brokeland community is facing any number of threats. Perhaps the most looming is a media megastore helmed by an NFL legend that's being planned for the neighborhood. Their David won't survive this Goliath. Archy and Nat's wives, Gwen and Aviva, are also in business together, and Berkeley Birth Partners is likewise under threat due to a birth gone wrong. Things at home are equally challenging. Will Archy and Gwen's marriage survive his infidelities and the appearance of a previously unacknowledged 14-year-old son just weeks before the birth of their first child? A novelist recently told me that "the clock of your mortality is what moves you." Well, births and deaths are major events driving this narrative, and I'd argue that the clock of an 8-months-pregnant wife moves a story along as well. Meanwhile, the Jaffe household is dealing with their adolescent son's first serious infatuation—with Archy's teenage son. And also the fact that Nat is his own worst enemy. And into this rich stew is a complex subplot involving Archy's estranged father and a crime of the past resurfacing.



Commemorative button & special stamp

It's a lot to take in, really. There's a lot going on. Despite all of this, the action of Telegraph Avenue is character-driven rather than plot-driven. At times, the meandering plot seems almost incidental, as we peer through the windows at these character's complicated lives. Some readers may feel frustration with the digressions, but for me, every word was a delight. It was the path, not the destination. And the path of this novel is strewn with Mr. Chabon's legendary language, the staggering vocabulary, the abundant humor, the soaring similes, the awesome freakin' sentences! I, personally, am ill-equipped to articulate just how extraordinary his gifts are. The man is a virtuoso. "Buoyant," "joyful," "exuberant"—these are words that are frequently used to describe Mr. Chabon's writing. He takes on serious subject matter, and deals with it suitably, but his language is simply irrepressible.

Yes, there are some flashy scenes in this book that you will hear about—the 12-page sentence, the Obama cameo—but for my money Chabon's achievement is in the entirety of this work. He's created a world that's familiar and recognizable, yet somehow just a little better, shinier than reality. As I began reading this novel, I thought it was fantastic, but wouldn't replace Kavalier & Clay in my heart. But now I wonder. The real Telegraph Avenue is a short commute from my home, but it's Chabon's version that will stay with me.

When Andy met Susie

So, earlier this week in my Mailbox Monday post, I mentioned purchasing a long-overdue replacement of my copy of Andrew Sean Greer's The Story of a Marriage, and I told you that I'd write about how the two of us met...

Google is an amazing thing.  At the click of a mouse, it tells me that Andy and I met on July 19, 2002, because that is when the San Francisco Symphony presented a staged concert performance of Leonard Bernstein's Candide.  It was a not-to-be-missed event, starring George Hearn, Jason Danieley, Jennifer Welch-Babidge, Keith Phares, Rita Moreno, Marin Mazzie, and Stanford Olsen.  I was still new to San Francisco, in town less than six months, so I grabbed a cheap ticket and went by myself.  As it happened, I was seated next to an adorable young man who was also there by himself.  You got it; it was Andy.


Me and Weasel, back when I could still afford haircuts.

 I don't remember exactly how our conversation started, or who made the first overture, but we had a lovely discussion through the first intermission.  Along the way we discovered that he was a writer, and I was an editor.  (I think he was working on some catalog copy, at the time, to pay the rent.  I was probably temping.)  We discovered that we are from the same town in Maryland.  Small world!  Also, we enjoyed some of the same authors.  You know, this is just now coming back to me...  I'd been with Christopher Moore earlier that same day; in fact, I think I had an early dinner with him and Chuck and some booksellers.  I'm guessing by the date that we may have hooked up at San Francisco's Books by the Bay, because Chris and Chuck weren't living in SF at the time.  And if so, this is exactly what I looked like, because either Chris or Chuck took this photo on that day.

Anyway, the young man and I had started the most delightful conversation during the first intermission, and at some point in the second intermission, I suddenly remembered my manners.  I said, "I'm Susan, by the way."  And he said, "I'm Andy."  Right then, some distant synapse fired.  I'm still not sure how I made the connection, but I looked at him and slowly said, "Andrew Sean Greer.  I bought The Path of Minor Planets ten days ago."  And I had.  Let me back up.

Several weeks earlier, I had attended a literary event at the San Francisco Public Library.  It was to be a reading and a discussion of the short story between Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, Michael Chabon; editor of the Chronicle's books section, Oscar Villalon; and some guy no one had ever heard of, Andrew Sean Greer.  On the day of the event, the theater was packed, and I can guarantee you that 95% of the people were there to see Michael Chabon.  The Pulitzer was still shiny and new at that point.  So, we're all waiting and waiting for this event to start, but there seems to be some sort of delay.  I can't remember how late it was, or how many stalling announcements were made, but eventually it became clear that Chabon wasn't there, and no one could find him!  Finally, Villalon and this brave unknown guy came out on their own, and Michael never did show up that night.  It turned out later it was some sort of major scheduling SNAFU.  So, Andrew Sean Greer read an entire story from his debut collection, How It Was For Me.  It was a good story, and he read it well.

Then he sat down for a most enjoyable conversation with Oscar Villalon, and surely got more attention than he was ever expecting on that particular evening.  In addition to discussing short stories, Andy mentioned his debut novel, The Path of Minor Planets.  And two things must have happened that night:  He impressed me, and the title stuck in my head.  Because weeks later when I saw a nice hardback copy at Green Apple Books, I bought it. 

I hadn't yet had a chance to read it that evening at the Symphony, but just then, all the pieces came together.  I said his name and the title of his novel and Andy's mouth dropped open.  That was the first time he'd ever been recognized in public.  I probably would have figured it out sooner, but between the reading and the night we met, he'd cut off his beautiful blonde curls.  (Ladies, he had hair that you just wanted to run your fingers through!  In fact, I think I did just that some time later when the curls briefly resurfaced.  They haven't been seen since.)  Then I'd told him that I'd been at the "Chabon" event, and got the full scoop on what went down that evening. As it happens, Michael felt so badly about the SNAFU that he and Ayelet had Andy over for dinner to apologize, and they've been good friends ever since.  I also knew Michael Chabon well enough to say "hello," so we talked about him, and laughed that all three of us are Marylanders.  A really small world. 

So, Andy and I chatted right through the end of the evening, and we walked out together.  If this were a romantic comedy, we'd have lived happily ever after.  But it's San Francisco, and Andy is very happy with his husband, LOL.  God, it's almost a decade since that night.  Andy was unknown by all but the very geekiest back then (i.e. me).  In the years since, he's written the highly-acclaimed The Confessions of Max Tivoli, an absolutely brilliant book, followed by The Story of a Marriage, his only work I haven't read.  It's been a few years since then, and every time I see him, I ask about the next book.  I'm sure he loves that.

Oh, that's right, we still see each other.  Not socially.  We're not dear old friends.  But we're friendly.  We live in the same city, and travel in bookish circles.  We bump into each other a couple of times each year, there are rare emails, and I'm always greeted with a warm hug.  He's a very nice guy.  And he's one hell of a writer.  If you haven't read him, I urge you to check him out.  Or, if you've read only the later work, do explore the lesser-known early works.  You'll be so glad you did!  As for why I seem to attract novelists to me at all times and places, I simply can't explain it.

As a final treat, I leave you with some video of the night Michael Chabon interviewed Andy for City Arts and Lectures. 

Michael and Ayelet's Hobgoblin

This just in:  The Hollywood Reporter is, uh, reporting that Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Michael Chabon and his wife, novelist Ayelet Waldman, will be penning (and exec-producing) a new television series for HBO.  Currently entitled Hobgoblin, the series is about a group of con men and magicians who use their unique skills to battle Hitler and the Nazi's.  Right now the show is being developed, but doesn't appear to have been picked up yet.

Ahh, that's so Michael.  Certainly I detect echoes of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.  As potentially awesome as this project may be, is it wrong that I'm almost more interested in the behind the scenes action?  I've had plenty of interaction with both Michael and Ayelet over the years, out and about in Bay Area literary circles, and let me tell you--they are a reality show waiting to happen.  He's lovely.  She always squints at me and asks, "How do I know you?"  Always.

My one concern is that we don't "lose" this talented literary novelist to Hollywood.  Please don't forget your roots, Michael.

And for those of you who are speculating that I posted this news merely for an excuse to feature a huge photo of the dreamy-even-when-scruffy Chabon... No comment.

A woman's take on Manhood

Manhood for Amateurs: The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son
by Michael Chabon

A confession... I have little interest in "the pleasures and regrets of a husband, father, and son." I have a lot of interest in Michael Chabon. And why not? In addition to being one of my favorite authors, we're both 40-something Jews who were raised in suburban Maryland. And we both live in the San Francisco Bay Area and travel in literary circles. Okay, we're acquainted--but in the most superficial way imaginable; just enough to say hello and kibitz a bit. But the fact that he's a nice guy is completely subsumed by the fact that he's one of the greatest writers living today. I am an unabashed fan, and this collection of essays about a subject I'm not particularly interested in (being neither husband, father, son, wife, or mother) was a thrilling read.

Chabon's use of language is magnificent. No matter the subject, it's the sort of text where you want to grab anyone in the vicinity and just start reading aloud. I knew I was hooked when I began tearing up while reading the first essay, "The Loser's Club" which recounts a rejection suffered in his youth. "That was the moment I began to think of myself as a failure," the Pulitzer prize-winner writes. Chabon is vulnerable within these essays, sharing deeply personal details of his life, and letting that streak of neurosis shine through. But don't worry that the collection is one long, drawn out therapy session. There are more laughs than tears and as I noted above, Chabon is a very likeable fellow. "I Feel Good About my Murse," for instance, is delightfully silly. Even so, Chabon's got something real to say about masculine identity amidst the laughs.

Not every single essay is a slam dunk. The Lego one sort of left me cold. For you it might be another. But overall, this collection is so strong that it must surely be a go-to gift for fathers, husbands, sons, and all lovers of great writing for decades to come.

Oh, and I've seen him playing with his kids--he really is a great father.