Ben Marcus, The Flame Alphabet *** 1/2

The Flame Alphabet offers a variation on William Burroughs' concept of language as a virus. In this experimental novel, language becomes toxic, causing people to become seriously ill and even die. Children are immune, so many parents do everything they can to ameliorate the symptoms and stay with their kids. The narrator belongs to a religion called "the forest Jews" whose members worship in huts hidden in the woods and receive rabbinical transmissions through underground cables. Some people blame the forest Jews for the epidemic; others think they may hold the key to a cure.

As in Notable American Woman, Marcus includes a personal tenderness not usually found in avant-garde novels of this sort. Sam's relationship with his wife and daughter provides a solid, relate-able foundation for the wild story. I wasn't always sure what Marcus was getting at, but interesting ideas shone through.

Bernadette McDonald, Freedom Climbers ** 1/2

Freedom Climbers recounts the golden age of Polish mountaineering, the 1980s and 1990s when Polish climbers set the standard in Himalayan expedition climbing despite their desperate financial circumstances. McDonald focuses on a few colorful characters in particular, especially Jerzy Kukuczka and the controversial Wanda Rutkiewicz.

As the title suggests, McDonald is more interested in the politics of climbing than the adventure aspects. She spends more time on how the climbers finance their expeditions and finagle their permits than she does describing the mountains or the climbing challenges. She covers interpersonal politics as well: who chose whom for which expedition and how that person felt about it. All of that could be interesting, but her psychological insights tend to be pedestrian and certainly don't make up for the abbreviated mountaineering action.

Geoff Dyer, Zona ***

The full title is Zona: A Book About a Film About a Journey to a Room. The film in question is Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker, one of my all-time favorites. The book basically describes the film and the author's interpretation/reaction to it. Here's how it starts:

An empty bar, possibly not even open, with a single table, no bigger than a small round table, but higher, the sort you lean against--there are no stools--while you stand and drink. If floorboards could speak these look like they could tell a tale or two. ... It's the kind of bar men meet in prior to a bank job that is destined to go horribly wrong.

I enjoyed the book because I love the film and appreciate the thoughts of a fellow admirer. Dyer captures the richness and ambiguity of Stalker well. His interpretation of the events is similar enough to mine that I trust his judgement, but different enough to give me new twists to consider.

If you're not a Stalker fanatic, skip Zona. If you've never seen Stalker, remedy that as soon as possible.

Julian Smith, Crossing the Heart of Africa **

Crossing the Heart of Africa follows what should be a foolproof formula: the author retraces the route of an explorer from the golden age of African exploration. In this case, Smith (roughly) follows the route of Ewart Grogan, the first person to travel the length of Africa from south to north. Why did Grogan make this trek? Officially, it was to scope out potential telegraph or railway routes, but he really undertook it in order to prove himself worthy of a rich woman he hoped to marry. His modern counterpart Smith goes on his journey in advance of his own wedding.

The combination of romance and adventure should be a winner, but it's not. On the romantic side, Smith asserts the strength of Grogan's feelings for Gertrude, but we never see them illustrated. The story of Smith's own romance is mundane, full of episodes that are surely meaningful for Smith and his wife but not interesting for us. And despite the presence of lions, elephants, head-hunters, dense swamps, and genocidal tribes, the journeys lack any narrative drive to tie together the events. I didn't get a sense of Africa, or of Grogan's character, or of how the Africa of today relates to the Africa of 1899.

Dan Chaon, Among the Missing ***

Among the Missing is a short story collection from an author whose novels I have enjoyed. The stories were written earlier than the novels, and I think it shows: while they share many of the strengths (and themes) of the novels, they seem constrained by the conventions of the literary short story. I also think that Chaon's character development skills are better suited to the longer form -- unless that's just my preference for novels over stories showing.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Wind, Sand and Stars *** 1/2

You can tell from the title that Wind, Sand and Stars is going to take a lyrical approach to its subject matter. Although the cover proclaims it as "a National Geographic Top Ten Adventure Book of All Time," Wind, Sand and Stars uses its author's adventures as a mere launching pad for musings on the nature of man, his place in the universe, and the meaning of life. In other words, don't read this book for its exciting aviation adventures, but for its beautiful imagery and engaging philosophy. It has the latter in abundance, although Saint-Exupery's prose is undeniably overblown at times.

Weekend Wodehouse ** 1/2

P.G. Wodehouse has a reputation as one of the wittiest and funniest writers of English. Weekend Wodehouse is a sampler of short pieces from the master, providing a taste of his various characters and styles.

Wodehouse's way with a sentence is undeniable and Wildean. But because he restricts himself to comic tales about the British upper class, his stories inevitably sound like anecdotes shared over a pint at a club in the 1930s. That's his intent, but I don't find them engaging.

I picked up Weekend Wodehouse in a used copy at Moe's Books. The pages had an appropriately musty smell.