The (Debatably) Defining Decade

 ISBN: 0446561754 Published: Twelve, 04/02/2013 Pages: 239 Language: English

A few weeks ago, I finished Dr. Meg Jay's The Defining Decade: Why Your Twenties Matter, and How to Make the Most of Them Now, a treatise of sorts on that writhing, hotly-contested mass of twenty-somethings (it seems like many pundits, writers, and academic types picture us -- yes, I am a twenty-something -- as some sort of wild swarm). I had lots of, you know... FEELINGS. I read very many books, but few of them simmer for quite this long, and it's been almost impossible to keep myself from measuring my life against the metric Jay presents in her book. Am I doing it right? Am I setting my course for CEO or reclusive cat hoarder?

Well, probably something wildly different from either of those options. But let's dive in to what it actually discusses.

Romantically, everything here made sense, and seemed intuitive. Hold partners to a standard, or accept something half-baked and unfulfilling; if you're envisioning a particular type of relationship, look for that person in an environment where they could reasonably be found.

Professionally, though, things felt muddled, perhaps because that's where my 20-something confusion has been at its most chaotic. The book vascillates between case studies and research-infused prose, and one case study in particular unsettled me. In Danielle's passage, we read about her travails as an assistant to a television producer of The Devil Wears Prada ilk - cantankerous, petty, irrational, etc. We read about the toll this takes on Danielle's life, and how its implications become physical (anxiety, long days) as well as mental (work becomes her life). Dr. Jay's advice, after asking the patient to stop calling her mother during her lunch break, is simply to stick it out and put in the hours, the 40 hours a week for five years.

My beef: this seems like the ultimate deferment of happiness. It makes sense that if, as a twenty-something, you're living an unexamined life, then sure, you should try your best to ensure that you're on track to be happy, but if you're decidedly unhappy, is it really worth it to let that anxiety pile up over five years? Sure, you'll be better able to cope with difficult situations in the future, but to what end? Personally, I'd rather be employed in some less prestigious field (and have free time to pursue my art, interests, and friendships) than eternally stressed out and overworked.

Have you read this book? What did you think?

Season of the Sociopaths

ISBN-10: 0307956644 ISBN-13: 9780307956644 Published: Crown, 05/14/2013 Pages: 320 Language: English 

I was prompted by an excellent, hilarious article on Slate that purported to be a review of  M.E. Thomas' memoir Confessions of a Sociopath: A Life Spent Hiding in Plain Sight by Patrick Bateman, the corporate shark/literal serial killer protagonist of Bret Easton Ellis' controversial satire American Psycho to think about what appears to me an explosion of sociopathic literature in the past decade or so. Nonfiction books such as the Psychopath Test have examined the increasingly prolific application of the term by psychologists with some skepticism, while M.E. Thomas' book and others seem to accept the oft-quoted (and oft-debated) statistic taken from Martha Stout's The Sociopath Next Door that places 1 in 25 Americans in this burgeoning category. In fact, Thomas goes further and suggests that many revered social climbers have been aided in their success by a sociopathic disregard for morality. Of course, this is more or less the same point Ellis was making rather unsubtly back in 1991, but the prospect still feels unsettling and new. 

Many of these books and articles dealing with sociopathy or psychopathy (while technically different, the terms are most often used interchangeably) also challenge our notions of how personalities are formed by leaning heavily towards biological determinism. For instance, Thomas claims to have been more or less born sociopathic, with an extraordinary degree of emotional distance present even as a child. Consider this piece from The New York Times which asks: Can You Call A Nine-Year-Old A Psychopath? It concerns children, particularly one young boy, who have already been diagnosed as clinically psychopathic without the clear involvement of environmental factors. The disturbing anecdotes and, at times, fatalistic attitude shared by parents and psychologists in the piece harkens back to old-school shockers (based upon dubious science) such as the 1956 film The Bad Seed, in which a young girl's violent actions are explained through genetics rather than demon possession or some other temporary, anomalous state.

As a sufferer of parental abuse at a young age, Thomas has been explained away by many critics as a damaged, narcissistic woman seeking attention and a strange sort of validation through her claims of sociopathy. These arguments may have merit, it's not for me to judge, but the phenomenon of personality disorders is still a major topic in contemporary literature and culture. Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin is one well-regarded example, but there are many more works that deal with antisocial behavior on a less extreme scale. I can think of one literary movement in particular that I would like to discuss, but doing so under the banner of this article seems in poor taste. For now, I will leave you with plenty of interesting reading to do, should your interests be as admittedly creepy as my own. 

Father of Beloved Flyleaf Employee Holds Dual Reading

ISBN-10: 0765306115 ISBN-13: 9780765306111 Published: Tor Books, 05/07/2013 Pages: 304 Language: English

As a teaser for our dual reading on June 28 with science fiction authors Jamil Nasir--full disclosure: well, it's in the title-- and Alex Wilson, I thought I would discuss Nasir's most recent book, Tunnel Out of Death. Nasir's work falls into the genre of "hard" science fiction, a nebulous distinction that usually indicates a high level of scientific rigor went into the book's fantastical imaginings, but I prefer my own surprisingly inclusive definition: a science fiction book that, when summarized, will always sound like complete and utter nonsense. Just to be clear, this is not a knock against the sub-genre-- I consider myself a fan-- but an acknowledgment that its authors intentionally present a certain barrier of entry to be overcome, hopefully, by the use of one's respective noodle. 

Bewilderment is a sought-after effect rather than a flaw in this sub-genre, and Nasir thankfully avoids all forms of authorly hand-holding. His prose is spare and the exposition is practically non-existent, while his ideas are vast and ambitious. What it really feels like is William Gibson's brutal efficiency married to Philip K. Dick's LSD-fueled surrealism. It's a heady combination, so prepare to read passages over and over again to decipher gnomic phrases-- for example, one chapter begins "While it was slightly unusual to be wearing anonymizing gear in a neighborhood zoned to exclude infopush..."

 The payoff is worth it, though. Nasir is concerned less with plot-driven mysteries than existential ones, and the entire back half of the book is a meditation on mortality. If you think spirituality is no-go territory in science fiction, Tunnel Out of Death will convince you otherwise. Instead of mutants with guns, Nasir's protagonist is threatened by paranoia, ennui, and the conflict between his mind and the needy meat-sacks that happen to carry it around. Also, there are mutants with guns. It's stuff you can seriously ponder, without being seriously ponderous (if I end up leaving this sentence in, you will know I have no shame). This book is kind of like what I imagine Jim Morrison thought of drugs: hallucinatory, mind-opening, and damn good stuff.

This May Not be for Everyone...

ISBN-10: 0785165622
ISBN-13: 9780785165620
Published: Marvel, 03/19/2013
Pages: 136
Language: English

...but it should be. Dear reader, I try to write for a fairly broad audience, but I am, at heart, a nerd, and a superhero comic this good simply must be addressed. Penned by Matt Fraction-- a genius at reviving moribund superhero titles-- Hawkeye takes a back-to-basics approach to its titular character, aka Clint Barton, by showing us what he gets up to when he's not stopping alien invasions alongside the Avengers. Turns out that Barton is a bit of a lovable goof, and his story somehow manages to be both gritty and consistently hilarious. Fraction's dialogue, especially between Barton and his wise-cracking, hyper-confident Girl Friday/sidekick/fellow Hawkeye/it's complicated, okay?, Kate Bishop, is the dictionary definition of "punchy." 

Beyond simple entertainment, though, Fraction uses Hawkeye to reintroduce the concept of the working class hero. Heroes such as Batman and Iron Man, after all, are also billionaire business tycoons, members of the 1% who are as essentially unrelatable as Superman and Thor. Hawkeye/Barton's adventures include rescuing an injured dog, protecting his fellow poverty line-skirting apartment tenants from rent hikes and gentrification, and crashing a gala thrown by upper-crust criminals. On the latest of these adventures, Barton remarks: "Lots of guns, rich people, and scumbags in that room down there," to which Bishop responds: "You read those newspapers you cut up? There's kind of a global recession on right now. Only people that make money in a recession are scumbags" (the use of bold font to add emphasis to speech is standard procedure in comic books). This re-grounding of comics as populist entertainment is part of a larger movement spear-headed by writers such as Ed Brubaker, who embrace the medium's past as well as its potential for the future.

I couldn't possibly end this endorsement without giving a shout-out to David Aja's thoroughly excellent art, which uses potentially garish primary colors, particularly the oft-maligned purple, with a skill not seen since Dave Gibbons' work on Watchmen. He thankfully rejects the glossy photo-realism so common in the medium these days in favor of a riff on Silver Age exuberance with ambitious panel construction that somehow manages a degree of winking post-modernism without being obnoxious. I'm no artist, though, so really I might as well jettison the fancy terms and just say that Hawkeye is really, really pretty. Ultimately, this whole "review" was just an attempt to explain why something is so great, when it's greatness is already self-evident. Pick up a copy with an open mind-- I expect you'll agree.

A Very Benign Addiction

I had to pass on this fantastic list from Buzzfeed: 25 Signs You're Addicted to Books. Full props to fellow blog contributor Laurie for bringing this to my attention. Be warned, it contains some explicit language, and some-- or, in my case, all-- of these "signs" may hit a little close to home.

1DERFUL

ISBN-10: 0062200577
ISBN-13: 9780062200570
Published: William Morrow, 04/30/2013
Pages: 704
Language: English

Horror fiction is a tricky business, and most of its successful practicioners lean heavily on atmosphere and existential dread: Henry James, Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Richard Matheson, Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker come to my mind. It's rare to find a scary, nasty piece of work like NOS4A2 that more or less eschews portent or vague mentions of Nameless Ones and still delivers the goods. NOS4A2's villains have recognizable psychological motivations and author Joe Hill takes pains to show the world from their  point of view. It's a very human approach to apply to characters that are, in a literal sense, only humanish, and it pays dividends in scares. In Hill's world, evil is brutish, backwards, and stupid, but no less terrifying.

By the way, in case you missed the significance of the title, it's a sort of numerical pun spelling out "Nosferatu," the German word for vampire. Hill is also paying homage to the silent film masterpiece of the same name, a kind of foundational text for horror that dared to depict a monster head-on, relying on very early but enduring make-up effects and a strange propensity to empathize with the rat-like bloodsucker. I can't help but go all English major up in here and reach for parallels between the film Nosferatu and the cheekily named book, which both disprove the notion that only the unseen and inexplicable are frightening. I could follow this thread until I get to a bunch of "banality of evil" nonsense, but I'll save you the trouble and simply argue that NOS4A2 is a highly entertaining, book-long refutation of Hitchcock's famous line: "There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it." One hates to disagree with a master, but he was only half-right: bangs are pretty scary, too.

Plus, Hill is a very gifted prose stylist and master craftsman of nail-biting set pieces. Like his father, Stephen King-- I went as long as I could without mentioning him, because Hill himself has tried very hard to stay out of that particular shadow-- Hill is ambitious and blackly comic, but, unlike his father, he rarely seems self-indulgent. Hill's 700-page horror epic somehow comes off as lean and enjoyable despite its length and the repeated emotional gut-punches he delivers to the reader. Putting a likeable heroine through the wringer turns out to be as effective a plot device as ever, so buckle up if you're at all squeamish. Oh man, I've written all this without even mentioning NOS4A2's particularly harsh take on Christmas tradition or Hill's fantastic comic series Locke and Key!? I suppose I'll have to do what Stephen King has refused to do his entire career: practice some restraint.

Teaching Controversy

ISBN-10: 0062203983
ISBN-13: 9780062203984
Published: Harper, 02/01/2013
Pages: 304
Language: English

Michelle Rhee's most recent memoir Radical: Fighting to Put Students First has been serving as a lightning rod for battles over education reform ever since its release in February, but I was alerted to a particularly interesting critique posted recently by Nicholas Lemann on the New Republic that, at the very least, outlines a notable counter-argument to Rhee's brand of reform. Rhee is no Johnny-come-lately to the educational scene-- she was featured prominently in the documentary Waiting for Superman as the crusading chancellor of Washington, D.C.'s public school system, for instance, and published a memoir on the subject just two years ago. The article and Rhee's book were discussed on Slate's excellent politics podcast, Slate's Political Gabfest, which I cannot recommend highly enough. 

While I agree with the hosts that Lemann's piece sometimes verges on becoming an ad-hominem attack on Rhee and her gigantic personality, it does raise some legitimate questions about her particular approach. Rhee is difficult to argue with in a broad sense-- read this excellent New Yorker piece on New York City's infamous Rubber Rooms if you have any doubts that there are some very bad teachers out there being protected by an inept system-- but her particular policy stances are eminently debatable. After all, "Fighting to Put Students First" is a much more broadly appealing message than "Fighting to Virtually Destroy Teacher's Unions and Institute a Voucher System with an Emphasis on Charter Schools." Here, the waters become much more muddied. 

For a more balanced understanding of educational reform, I would recommend former Assistant Secretary of Education Diane Ravitch's The Death and Life of the Great American School System: How Testing and Choice Are Undermining Education, whose approach, as indicated by the impressively forthright title, is more didactic and policy-based than Rhee's, even if her conclusions are hardly less controversial. On the lighter side, I have heard good things about John Hunter's World Peace and Other 4th-Grade Achievements, based on his inspiring TED talk. Apparently-- who would guess?-- encouraging your students' creativity through innovative thought exercises is more effective than having them memorize lists of proper nouns. 

I was lucky enough to attend well-regarded elementary and high schools-- middle school, not so much-- so my own views are shaped by this experience. However, without wading into the political arena myself, I think my parents' emphasis on reading was incontrovertibly the most effective contribution to my education, which now allows me to use words like "incontrovertibly" with a reasonable degree of confidence. If that is something you would like your child to be able to do someday, get them hooked on books. On an unrelated note, a great many books are to be found at Flyleaf Books, located on the corner of Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard and Hillsborough Street.