Benjamin Curtis, A Traveller's History of Croatia ** 1/2

Obviously I chose this book in preparation for our upcoming trip to Croatia. Knowing the country's history increased my enjoyment when we visited Istanbul, and granted me opportunities to impress my wife.

I was able to extract the gist from this book, but too much of it is the fact-listing that gives history a bad name.

The dynastic problems started in 1301, when the Arpad dynasty died out. The Subic supported the Anjou family, from Sicily and France, in their attempts to gain the crown. By 1308 this new Angevin dynasty had established itself in Hungary and Croatia under King Karoly Robert. Ironically, Karoly Robert's son, Lajos the Great (ruled 1342-82) very successfully strengthened the monarch's hand at the expense of the noble families ... The ascension of the Angevins was short-lived, however, since when Lajos died in 1382 Hungary and Croatia were plunged into a new dynastic conflict...

I think I was able to see the broad outlines through the thicket of details. The book includes a few nice historical maps showing the evolution of the country. However, I would have preferred a collection of targeted essays to the attempted comprehensive chronology.

Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue ****

I was truly impressed with Michael Chabon's prose style, which manages to be gorgeous with feeling too showy. His metaphors are unexpected but apt, his characters are well drawn, his themes develop naturally, and he incorporates telling details from various subcultures (used record stores, midwifery, blaxploitation movies, fatherhood). Lastly, he captures the feel of the titular area of Berkeley/Oakland.

The only way in which Telegraph Avenue falls short is its plot. There isn't much of it, and I never felt engaged by the dramatic stakes of the story. Will the new megastore cause Brokeland Records to close? Will the midwives lose their hospital privileges? Will the broken-down blaxploitation star expose the youthful indiscretion of his successful old friend? I didn't really care about these questions. I loved many of the individual incidents, but the story didn't pull me on to the next one.

David Foster Wallace, Both Flesh and Not *** 1/2

This posthumous collection of essays is, like The Pale King, best for DFW fans only. None of the essays is embarrassing (with the possible exception of the oldest one), but neither do they measure up to his non-fiction work in A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again or Consider the Lobster. Go read those books now.

For DFW fans, Both Flesh and Not is notable for the way you can see his inimitable prose style developing. Except for the title essay, the pieces are in chronological order. The oldest one, "Fictional Futures and the Conspicuously Young," is conspicuously sophomoric; the writing gets stronger as the book goes on. As it happens, the best pieces are the two about tennis, especially "Democracy and Commerce at the U.S. Open" which effectively captures the full experience of attending the tournament.

Even second-tier DFW non-fiction serves up nuggets of inspiration that make me feel smarter and want to be smarter. I also liked the vocabulary words between essays.

Patrick O'Brian, The Far Side of the World *** 1/2

As a palate cleanser after the disappointing Orphan Trilogy, I returned to an author whose prose style invariably delights me. The Far Side of the World is Book 10 in the Aubrey-Maturin series, which means I'm nearly half way through!

The distinctive feature of this chapter in the saga is that our heroes sail into the Pacific, resulting in South Sea adventures to complement their more typical assignments in the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. O'Brian crams in a few too many plotlines perhaps: he didn't need to cast them away on desert islands twice, and he squanders the dramatic opportunities presented by a group of lunatics assigned to the boat's crew. But the book was entertaining as always. And as always, the story starts slowly and builds to a frantic, in medias res finish.

James and Lance Morcan, The Orphan Trilogy * 1/2

Referring to a book as a "young adult" novel usually means that it is written for teenagers. I would call The Orphan Trilogy young adult fiction because it sounds like it was written by a teenager. The writing sounds exactly like stories I wrote in high school, the plot is childish with tinges of tittering about girls, and the characters swing wildly between the ruthless efficiency of trained espionage agents and the aggrieved petulance of middle-schoolers.

The fugitive agent reminded himself it was imperative he presented a different face to the world each time he ventured out. He made a silent vow to make good use of his vast array of disguises. ... As he glued the last of the stubble to his face, Nine's internal pain overwhelmed him. ... A year or so after giving birth to him, Nine's mother had escaped from The Pedemont Project. Naylor ordered Kentbridge to have Annette killed before she could expose Omega any further. Kentbridge refused - something to this day Nine remained unaware of.

The Orphan Trilogy proves that you can't trust the Internet. Every online review rates the books highly and praises exactly the weakest parts, such as the "depth and complexity" of the main character Nine. The books weren't written by a teenager, but by a father and son team from Australia. Their latest book is a "non-fiction" exploration of the various conspiracies that get mentioned in the Orphan books.

Aimee Bender, The Girl in the Flammable Skirt ***

This collection of stories falls squarely into the category of experimental fiction. A typical Aimee Bender story starts with a clearly stated surrealistic premise, which the characters deal with in a fairly realistic manner. Here are a few opening paragraphs:

One week after his father died, my father woke up with a hole in his stomach. It wasn't a small hole, some kind of mild break in the skin, it was a hole the size of a soccer ball and it went all the way through. You could now see behind him like he was an enlarged peephole. ("Marzipan")

Steven returned from the war without lips. ("What You Left in the Ditch")

There were two mutant girls in the town: one had a hand made of fire and the other had a hand made of ice. ("The Healer")

The narrators are young women coming to terms with their sexuality or their familial responsibilities, which gives their stories an emotional depth that balances their formal inventiveness. My favorite stories were "The Healer" and "What You Left in the Ditch."

The Girl in the Flammable Skirt collects Bender's early stories. I'd be interested in reading her more recent work to see how it has developed.

J.M. Coetzee, Disgrace **** 1/2

Remarkable, for two parallel scenes in particular. In the first, professor David Lurie pleads guilty to sexual harassment but is unwilling to satisfy the university ethics committee with proper expressions of remorse. In the second, David's daughter Lucy refuses to report the details of a violent attack against her. In both cases, the characters maintain their principled stands in the face of much reasonable pressure. As a reader, I got great pleasure from puzzling out the subtle nature of those personal principles and considering how far I could sympathize with them.

Remarkable also for the way it uses the story of a student affair as a metaphor for the racial complexities in the author's native South Africa. Disgrace would work beautifully in a literature class for the deft by clear way Coetzee uses literary technique.

Disgrace is a short novel with a straightforward plot, making it all the better as a focused setting for the David's casuistry. Coetzee's style is spare but lovely.