Currently Reading: Home Land

Home Land
by Sam Lipsyte
Picador 2004

This book couldn't find a publisher in the United States until it became a hit in Britain, where Sam Lipsyte's brazen self-deprecation and sick, childish humor struck the right chord. Then it really took off, winning the 1st Annual Believer Book Award and almost taking home the coveted rooster (yes, a real live rooster) in the Tournament of Books. Since then it's caused a minor sensation among a certain type of reader (the post-college aspiring bon vivant who's slowly losing faith in the world) by selling out a half dozen printings as a paperback original.

Home Land sort of slugs you in the face with a strong left that you never saw coming, and then it leans back and laughs while you press on your lips to stop the bleeding. And the fucked up thing is you start laughing right along. Because it's actually a series of letters written by a complete loser in New Jersey to his high school alumni magazine, updating his former classmates (the Eastern Valley High School Catamounts) on the sad decline of his existence. You can make fun of this guy all you want, but he's usually smart enough to beat you to the punch and humiliate himself first. All that's left for you is to listen, laugh, and slowly shake your head.

Lewis Miner is the protagonist, and his arch-nemesis is Principal Fontana, a former high school administrator whose failed life is frighteningly similar to Miner's. Faced with crushing disappointments and awkward attempts to find a real human connection, Miner and Fontana can't avoid making pitiful spectacles of themselves in front of the very people (former class presidents and erstwhile paramours) they try to impress. It's the kind of story (populated by wise-cracking stoners and beefy hit men) that usually degenerates into a slapstick of stereotypes. But Lipsyte redeems his main character by writing such insightful and brutally honest reports that you end up respecting Miner, rather than adding to his relentless self-mockery.

Overall it's a good book. Made me laugh. Kind of fucked up at times. Not going to change the world or inaugurate a new kind of literature. But if you're feeling like a total waste of space, it will make your life a bit funnier.

Currently Reading: The Places in Between

The Places in Between
Rory Stewart
Harcourt 2006

Books like this one aren't suppose to happen anymore. The Places in Between is a throwback to the literature of the Age of Discovery, when a narrative about trekking an unexplored continent or sailing the high seas was capable of evoking wonder and provoking political thought. Modern times have convinced us that we have nothing is left to explore, and--even worse--that we should avoid becoming loathsome colonizers by leaving the natives alone. But then a book like this comes along, and everything that was good and valuable about travel writing is made fresh again.

Rory Stewart is walking, alone, over the most treacherous mountains of Afghanistan in the middle of winter. It's a walk that he probably won't survive. But it's also the last segment of a pan-Asian journey that he's been trying to finish for years. Stewart is a Scotsman and a former British soldier with a strong interest in the people and politics of Afghanistan. He enters the country two weeks after coalition troops invaded Afghanistan, intending to annihilate the Taliban and forge a lasting peace among the loose-knit tribes and warlords who have been fighting here for generations.

Stewart writes about his travels the way you would expect an adventurous sea captain to file entries in his log. Without hubris or malice or arrogance, he describes the conditions of his journey and the behavior of the Afghan families who helped him along the way. Fortunately for Stewart, it's a Muslim custom to take care of strangers when they pass through your village. Stewart turns the act of walking across Afghanistan into an excuse to stay with local men and observe the lives of Afghanistan's most far-flung inhabitants. These are the rugged Afghan men who cannot escape their tribal past or the memory of conflicts with the Soviets and the Taliban. These are the men who make Afghanistan such an enigma to the coalition forces and anyone who has tried to conquer the region. By walking among them, Stewart makes himself the closest thing to a Western expert on this isolated--and strategically invaluable--pocket of the world.

As a writer Stewart is humble and observant; knowledgeable and brave; forthright and indefatigable. He focuses on the road conditions and the people he meets, leaving all sensationalism and self-involvement behind. And in the process he uncovers striking paradoxes and uncanny nuances in the lives of the Afghan mountain people.

What could be more important--and riveting--than a truthful account of the mysterious cultures at the heart of today's most far-reaching global conflict?

This was the most satisfying book I have read in ages.