Southwest New Mexico.

Photo of the Gila National Forest by Dolor Ipsum used under a Creative Commons license.

Sharman Apt Russell, Songs of the Fluteplayer (Bison Books, 2002).
Writing for Salon’s Literary Guide to the World about southern New Mexico, Philip Connors says that

for a vision of contemporary life in this part of the world, one could scarcely do better than to pick up Sharman Apt Russell’s “Songs of the Fluteplayer” (1991), a collection of personal essays that range from the clash between environmentalists and cattle ranchers to the moral quandaries involved in hiring illegal laborers. At its best, it explores human-imposed boundaries — say, between public land and private, or between America and Mexico — with clarity, grace and a subtlety that subverts simple-minded moralizing.

When she wrote the book, Russell taught writing at Western New Mexico University in Silver City, where she has been since 1981, and lived in the Mimbres Valley, also in the southwest part of the state. I haven’t read this one, but I enjoyed Russell’s Kill the Cowboy.

Here is Russell’s bio at WNMU. This brief bio links to several of her articles. Her Wikipedia entry isn’t much longer. Google Books lets you take a look. Janet Schoberg says it captures the charm and challenge of the American Southwest. Susan J. Tweit interviewed Russell for Story Circle Book Reviews.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

The great enchantress.

Photo of La Pedrera – Casa Milà by Paco CT used under a Creative Commons license.

Robert Hughes, Barcelona: The Great Enchantress (National Geographic, 2004).
Hughes, an Australian expat who was Time’s art critic for years, has long made Barcelona his home away from home, and wrote a longer and more celebrated book (confusingly titled Barcelona) on the city seventeen years ago. National Geographic must have decided that this made him the right person to write about the city for their Directions series, for which well-known authors write short books about places. The result sometimes feels like a writing assignment rather than an organic book, but it works as a handy introduction to the city. Hughes follows a chronological approach in describing how the built environment of Barcelona came to be, and what is unique about Barcelona’s culture pours out around the edges.

Here’s Wikipedia’s page on Hughes. Hughes wrote an homage to Barcelona in Time in 1992. Here are two paragraphs from the book on Antoni Gaudi’s Casa Batlló (with a picture of the facade). Miquel O’Dochartaigh posts some favorite passages. Ian or Linda Kaplan calls it a readable overview of Barcelona, its architecture and Catalan culture; he likes it more than Hughes’ other book, but not as much as Colm Tóibín’s Homage to Barcelona. Sarah says it brings the city alive like no other, and she lived there. George V. Reilly gave it 3.5 stars (out of 5) and calls it well-written and opinionated, if overly selective. John Novick found it helpful. Paul Symonds says it’s at once a personal account and a travel documentary; he recommends nine other Barcelona books, too. Nancy Todd calls it a fascinating painting of the Catalan capital; she, too, has other recommendations. Natalie Perrin calls it schizophrenic. Adam D. Roberts used Hughes as a guide. Reuben is inspired by Barcelona’s architecture. Tyson Williams picked it up before he went to Barcelona, where he took photos.And Jennifer Schuessler reports on Barcelona bookstores.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

The east end of Fulton Street.

Photo by wallyg used under a Creative Commons license.

Joseph Mitchell, Old Mr. Flood (MacAdam/Cage, 2005).
This volume collects three long stories first published in The New Yorker in the mid-1940s about a retired wrecker named Hugh G. Flood, a 90-year-old determined to live to the age of 115 on fresh seafood and Scotch. Like Flood, Mitchell liked to hang around Manhattan’s Fulton Fish Market, where Fulton Street runs into the East River, and he created Flood and his world from what he saw there. The Fulton Fish Market is gone now, moved to the Bronx, but it and an older, blue-collar Manhattan live on in Mitchell’s writing. (Note that the contents of this book are also included in the collection, Up in the Old Hotel.)

Google Books lets you take a look. David Berg has a sort of Mitchell primer. Edward Helmore wrote this obituary for Mitchell for The Independent. Garth Risk Hallberg appreciates Mitchell’s work. Thomas Beller (The Village Voice) says Joycean free-associating talkers populate Mitchell’s work, transplanted to the flinty, vanishing waterfront milieu of early-20th-century Manhattan. Meghan O’Rourke (Slate) calls it a great book, as vivid a portrait of the Fulton Fish Market and of working-class life in New York City as any we have. Luan Gaines calls it an intimate look at a gentleman from the old days. Kristin Dodge found it repetitive and rambling. Maud Newton was not impressed. Hardy Green (Business Week) says it is eminently readable and brings a lost world of New York alive. Bryan Waterman wished his neighborhood on the east side had an oyster bar. Then he found a solution. Here is a gallery of odds and ends Mitchell collected from the Fulton Fish Market. Andrew Jacobs wrote about the last day of the old market in The New York Times.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

The bees of frontier Kansas.

Photo by dreambird used under a Creative Commons license.

Thomas McMahon, McKay’s Bees (Harper Perennial, 1986).
McMahon’s novel centers on Gordon McKay, who leaves Massachusetts for Kansas in 1855 with his new wife and some German carpenters with bees and plans to found a new city on the frontier.  McKay has no strong affinity for abolitionists or slaveowners, though there isn’t much room for neutrality in Bloody Kansas.  This novel is very much of a time, an impressive recreation of historical consciousness.

Google Books provides a preview. Here’s an excerpt. In 1987, Elizabeth Mehren profiled McMahon for the LA Times. Here is McMahon’s obituary in The Harvard Gazette and the obituary from The New York Times. Douglas Bauer (The Boston Globe) is not sure which gives him greater pleasure: finding someone who doesn’t know about the novel and explaining why he must read it immediately, or discovering a fellow admirer and falling into eager conversation about its droll narrative voice and its cast of charming eccentrics and its poetically taut lines. Timothy Foote (Time) says the book is a marvel of brains, brevity and sharp description. Amanda Schaffer (Bookforum) says that McMahon’s overflowing enumeration of human, biological, and mechanical peculiarities—not unlike naturalists’ sketches or case studies—largely defines the novel’s structure, and that his facility for sustained abundance, for quirky upon quirkier detail, accumulates into a tour de force. Dedda Pie calls it absolutely amazing. Phillip Routh thought it went stagnant.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

On Pine Ridge.

Photo by Hamner_Fotos used under a Creative Commons license.

Vic Glover, Keeping Heart on Pine Ridge (Native Voices, 2004).
A Vietnam vet and former journalist, Glover wrote this series of short essays about life — his life — on the Pine Ridge reservation.  Pine Ridge is one of the poorest places in the country,  a hard place where car accidents, alcoholism and diabetes kill more than they should.  Glover is a survivor, and his essays glow with a dry humor and an understated spirituality, both keys to getting by.  I really liked this book, and I think it deserves a bigger audience.

Some of the essays were published first in Indian Country Today, including “Armageddon didn’t happen yet,” “Windy day sweat,” and “Ceremonies, hospitals, and cemetaries.” Timothy White (Shaman’s Drum) says it offers an honest portrait of contemporary Native beliefs and perspectives on the reservations. The Midwest Book Review says it reveals the challenges, history, bonds, and rich traditions that infuse and reflect the stark realities of life on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Tom Rice sees despair on Pine Ridge. Glover blogs!

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

Across the Golden Horn.

Photo of Galata Bridge by Geir Halvorsen used under a Creative Commons license.

Geert Mak, The Bridge (Random House UK, 2008).
Istanbul’s Galata Bridge spans the Golden Horn, a long estuary on the European side of the Bosphorus, and links two of the city’s oldest neighborhoods. To the south is Sultan Ahmet, a traditional Muslin part of the city, where you will find the Hagia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace. To the north is Pera, the core of westernized Istanbul. The bridge itself is crowded with cars, pedestrians, fishermen, vendors, beggers, as well as shops and restaurants. Mak’s book is about the bridge, present and past, a little window onto Istanbul and Turkey.

Wikipedia’s entry on the Golden Horn is helpful, as is the page on the Galata Bridge. Here is an English-language bio of Mak, who is a Dutch journalist, on his website. Mak wrote about spending time on the bridge. The New Statesman ran this excerpt. Alev Adil (The Indepedent) says Mak’s intimate portraits disrupt tidy European prejudices. Lesley Mason says that as an insight into modern Turkey, it is charming, learned and unique. Viola Fort (The Guardian) says it’s part history lesson, part cultural essay. The Armenian Odar enjoyed meeting people he would probably ignore if he were to cross the bridge. Via Martyn Everett, Jeremy Seal (The Telegraph) says Mak has reinvented the city’s iconic bridge as the focal point for the frustrations and humiliations endured by Turkey’s urban dispossessed. Doulter says Mak reports how Istanbul is in a permanent state of flux, a perfect example of new nomadism. For Gary Schwartz, it brought back memories of Istanbul. Ali Çimen interviewed Mak. Listen to Ramona Koval interview Mak on ABC’s The Book Show, or read the transcript. Here’s a curious story about the book’s publication in Holland. Esther has more.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

“Dost thou know Dover?”

Photo of Dover by diamond geezer used under a Creative Commons license.

William Shakespeare, King Lear (Washington Square Press, 2005).
Perhaps Shakespeare’s greatest tragedy, set in the royal court of a pre-Christian Britain. King Lear decides to divide his lands between his daughters, Goneril and Regan, and to disown his youngest daughter, Cordelia, who fails to flatter him as her sisters do. Lear then struggles with age, powerlessness, and madness, while Britain suffers as his daughters intrigue. Cordelia, who has married the King of France, returns with a army at Dover, where she finds Lear and the play finds its denouement.  While King Lear is hardly a guide to Dover, all of the major characters save the Fool are drawn to it, and the place has a special significance within the play.  (On this point, I am indebted to Susan Snyder, whose essay follows the play in the Folger edition noted above.)  Dover functions as a frontier, the edge of Britain, and the place where Lear and Gloucester go to transcend their experiences.

There are so many sources on Lear that a few posted here will only scratch the surface. Wikipedia’s entry on King Lear is lengthy and worthwhile. Google Books gives you a preview or MIT gives you the whole thing. You can listen to the play here. Is this Lear’s domain? Ed Friedlander wrote this essay on enjoying the play.  Here is more on the Dover connection. Songline visited Shakespeare Cliff. Plinius looked for it in the play. Here are Shakespeare playing cards. Here is Laurence Olivier playing Lear, Act IV, Scene 6, on the heath near Dover.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

Possibly Beijing.

Image by Nod Young used under a Creative Commons license.

Jonathan Tel, The Beijing Of Possibility (Other Press, 2009).
This collection of short stories is not just set in the Chinese capital, it is of and about the city. Tel’s Beijing is a city is close to the country, in a China which is not far from the West, and set in modern times which do not leave the past behind. Tel is fascinated by the different lives which come together in the city, by the forks which bring people to where they are now and the turns in which lives are changed and left behind — by all of Beijing’s possibilities. This Beijing is populated by messengers in gorilla suits and pick-pockets, opera composers and buskers, executives and factory workers. The disparate strands are tied together in the last story through a clever device, an effective bit of playfulness that seemed neither contrived nor obtrusive. The stories also are accompanied by Tel’s black-and-white photographs of Beijing.

Via Scott Esposito, here is one excerpt (Zoetrope)and here is another (if that link doesn’t work, try this one), and another. Terry says Tel’s Beijing is a vast, unknowable stage where opposites clash. Mark H. says Tel takes the everyday mundane life of typical Beijing residents and shares their dreams, humour and irony. L. Dean Murphy says it captures the essence of China’s rapid change. Simon Fowler says Tel’s writing shows a subtle and playful humour, and a sense of Chinese history and culture.  Barbara Ardinger says these stories are hypnotic. Jonathan Shock calls the stories windows into the split second pieces of action you see every day on the streets of any big city, and adds that in Beijing you know that the truth is much more interesting than what your imagination can muster. Publisher’s Weekly calls it a glimpse into the complicated, vibrant world of Beijing. Matthew Jakubowski interviewed Tel for The Quarterly Conversation. Here are questions for discussion and the publisher’s reader’s guide. Tel talks about taking the photographs which accompany the stories. Marshal Zeringue caught up with Tel, who’s been reading about China.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

Fishtown.

Photo by C. Young Photography used under a Creative Commons license.

Kevin Colden, Fishtown (IDW Publishing, 2008).
A graphic novel set in the eponymous working-class neighborhood of Philadelphia, and based on a murder there in 2003.  Fishtown is about four teenagers who murder an acquaintance for a relatively meager sum of money.  It’s a bleak story, well-executed.  I hesitate to recommend it, but if it sounds like something you might enjoy, you probably will.

Colden’s work initially was published on the internet and can still be seen here and here; he revised it somewhat before it came out in hardcover. Christopher Irving profiles Colden. Valerie D’Orazio calls Fishtown a chilling portrayal of teenage apathy and bloodlust. Alli Katz (Philadelphia Weekly) says Fishtown becomes a character in and of itself–not the hipster-ridden, art-show Fishtown, but the Fishtown of old row homes and families that have lived in the neighborhood for decades. Bryan Kerman says the tale is ultimately as mysterious as the murder: random and sick, but not rich in the telling. Dustin was continuously interested in the story even though he found none of the characters to be likable. Joshua Grace thought it had a few cool story telling devices, but he didn’t really like it. rzklkng says we all know kids like these. Jillian Steinhauer calls it an emotionally charged, upsetting, and incredibly well executed comic. Lisa Fary says Colden handles the horror of the kids’ actions and aftermath without passing judgment or making excuses for them. Rob Clough appreciates Colden’s effort to understand the murder. John Ostapkovich (KYW 1060) says it’s not for the squeamish. Sam Costello says it’s truly disturbing, unusually so in comics. Marc Sobel says it’s a quick, discomfiting read and depressing as hell, but a beautiful book. Glenn Carter says it’s dark, powerful, poignant stuff, highly recommended on every level. Timothy Callahan says its story will haunt you long after you close the covers. Callahan interviewed Colden. So did Brian Heater (part one) (part two). Here is another interview, with Michael C. Lorah. This is one of a number of blogs posting a release by the publisher’s publicist. Jaime Valero reviews it en espanol. Here’s a resource for the real Fishtown.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

 

Wrecking.

Photo by Mike138 used under a Creative Commons license.

Bella Bathurst, The Wreckers (Houghton Mifflin, 2005).
For centuries, inhabitants of Britain’s coasts have supplemented their livelihoods with the goods and material from shipwrecks. The march of technology — lighthouses, steel hulls, GPS — has made the seas safer, but far from safe, and wrecks still come ashore, though fewer coastal communities can rely on a steady flow of them. Bathurst’s book travels around England to the most dangerous locales for shipping: the Goodwin Sands, off Kent; Pentland Firth, off northeast Scotland; the Scilly Isles; the West Coast; the Thames, where man was a bigger threat than nature; Cornwall; and the East Coast. Bathurst also wrote a terrific book about Scottish lighthouses.

Google BookSearch gives you a preview, and the author offers this from the introduction. Pedro Caleja has an excerpt too. Kathryn Hughes (The Guardian) says it is, appropriately, a kind of shimmering net of possibility rather than a definitive documentary account. Michele Hewitson (New Zealand Herald) calls it a treasure. Bill Saunders (The Independent) says Bathurst has opened a magic casement on to a lost world on the edge of living memory. Michael Upchurch (Seattle Times) says it’s irresistable. Andro Linklater (The Spectator) cannot recommend it too highly. Philip Marsden (The Times) says is it more than a collection of fine yarns and colourful facts. John Schauble (The Age) calls Bathurst a competent journeyman storyteller. Sara Wheeler (The New York Times) says Bathurst an accomplished stylist. Puke Ariki’s reviewer says the book pares the romance from the business of ship-wrecking to reveal an ugly world of avarice and brutality. Piers Brendon (The Telegraph) says one doesn’t know how much of it to believe. Tim James says it is among the finest writing on Cornwall.  Jay Taber was enthralled by the detailed descriptions of the geologic and maritime factors that contributed to the colossal tonnage of flotsam and jetsam on the shores of Scotland, England, Cornwall, and Wales, not to mention the Orkneys and Hebrides. Peter Ross interviewed Bathurst for the Sunday Herald. You can listen to this interview with her on NPR.

Buy it at Amazon.com.