Bowlful of Crickets

Blackbird, Farewell by Robert Greer

This was the first CJ Floyd mystery I’ve read, and CJ himself appears only for the last few pages, although his shadow looms large throughout the book. The main plot line concerns the assassinations of the number one draft pick in the NBA, a Pulitzer winning journalist- and shortly thereafter, the draft pick’s father. Numerous people close to the deceased conduct investigations, including his best friend and college teammate, Damion Madrid.

Let me start with the good points- this book kept my interest through out, and I did wonder what the resolution would be throughout. Some of the characters were pretty interesting and the dialogue was decent throughout. Greer does a nice job of painting a portrait of the black neighborhoods and people of Denver

But for the good aspects of this book, there were also many disappointments. The plot gets a little needlessly complicated at points, likely to send the reader off the trail of who the murderer might be, but it winds up becoming a little distracting and unbelievable. There’s an awful lot of poking around by amateurs- yet they always seem to get answers from folks who are in way too deep, with very few of them telling the would-be gumshoes “talk to my lawyer” or “I don’t have to answer you”. The character of Flora Jean Benson is well-developed (ahem), but I couldn’t help but visualize Jackie Brown-era Pam Grier throughout- perhaps that’s what author Robert Greer had in mind, but I found it a little distracting. And as much as I tried to suspend my disbelief, as an NCAA basketball fan, I had a hard time not chuckling when they mentioned Colorado State in the NCAA finals.

In all, a mixed-bag, one I would recommend only to true fans of this genre. I do plan on seeking out a CJ Floyd book that actually includes CJ Floyd to see if that would make a difference in the end result. ( )

Skinny Bitch by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin

Let me start my review by saying I’m a 40 year old straight male- so I’m clearly not the demographic they were going for. My wife read this book and really enjoyed it, so she gave it to me to read. I found it interesting, and at times enjoyable, but it missed the mark for me on a number of points:

1) I didn’t find it funny and their use of stronger language came off as sloppy and intentionally trying to shock, but they would have had to venture into Margaret Cho/Lisa Lampinelli territory to make me even flinch….The writing style was conversational, girlfriend to girlfriend. To me (again, a guy), it came off sloppy rather than casual.

2) It’s very stong towards the PETA side of things, and since my wife and I were already in the process of switching to a vegetarian lifestyle, it wasn’t that shocking to me. They get a bit preachy at points, but it didn’t bother me as much as the facts they supported were from PETA publications and other like-minded people. Perhaps those are the only folks who know the true story, but to me it came off like an essay on how great Kobe Bryant is, with the major sources quoted being the Kobe Bryant Fan Club and his mother.

That being said, they do nicely portray how you can eat vegetarian and be healthy, and how it’s not as scary as some might think. They offer many ideas on how to make the switch and nicely get through it. And biased or not, they remind people how the food industry treats animals. I’ve thought about this before and had my own ways of rationalizing it, but I’m not sure everyone knows what happens in a slaughterhouse. So it’s something folks should be aware of.

I give this book two 1/2 stars mostly for the wrting style, but:

>add one star if you’re a woman

>add another star if you’re thinking of going vegetarian, vegan or are already either

>add another half star if you are passionate about the ethical treatment of animals ( )

reblogging travors:

100 Must-Read Books: The Essential Man’s Library

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut is one of my favourites.
So it goes.

TV: Linking now, hope to comment on the list soon.

In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto by Michael Pollan

This book could change the way you eat- or at least think twice before you pop open that next tube of GoGurt. Pollan lloks at the Western diet and our obsession with “nutritionism”- and why the food industry pushes nutrient specific foods yet we’re all so unhealthy. He gives guidance on how to eat simply “Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants.” and elaborately nicely on how to do so, with some simple tips. While the book may come off a little preachy and one-sided for those not ready to admit they could/should be eating better, it’s a well-thought treatise for those who want to improve their diets. ( )

Top 50 Cult Books (Telegraph [UK]): Haven’t dug through this yet, but i will…comments likely to follow…

After the bleak Fight Club, I’d thought I’d lighten the mood a bit as I moved back to non-fiction with My Baseball Diary, a series of recollections by James T. Farrell, author of the Studs Lonnigan books and a White Sox fan who grew up in the early years of the 20th Century. Unfortunately, the mood soon became so light that it nearly put me to sleep.

I will start by saying that this book isn’t bad- some of the recollections paint a clear picture of what baseball was like almost 100 years ago, which is pretty cool. But reading this book from cover to cover can be a bit of a snore at times, mostly due to Farrell’s antiquated writing style. This was originally written in 1957, when Farrell was 53. The language and "aw shucks" tone are most likely comparable to other books written at that time, but it can really detract from the subject matter. Farrell also has a method of repating himself throught this book- historical accounts of a game are often followed by fictionalized exerpts from Farrell’s novels.

At other times, the language provided a few chuckles- like in this section from one of Farrell’s novels where a teenage character explains to his young brother how he acquired cigarettes:

"I copped these on Aunt Margaret the other night. But if you snitch on me, I’ll lam your ears in."

I kept waiting for someone to sliip somebody a Mickey Finn, or to sap some rube on the melon with a blackjack, but to no avail. Instead, we hear repeatedly of what a fine catcher Ray Schalk was, which may be true, but it does get a bit repetitive…

To die-hard baseball fans who really want a blast of nostalgia, this would be a fine bathroom book, worth reading in small clips. All others should stay away.

Seeing as how the year is over two months over and I just completed my third book, I think my goal of 50 Books in ’05 is out of reach (barring any sudden shifts to the complete Hardy Boys collection). So I now move back to fiction, with Nelson Algren’s The Man With The Golden Arm, a fairly long novel that I passed on in January for the much shorter Fight Club. I’ll still call this blog feature 50 books in ’05 and we’ll see how close I can get…