David Sedaris, When You Are Engulfed in Flames

Last night I finished David Sedaris's most recent book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames.

Mostly because Me Talk Pretty One Day reduced my aunt and me to tears when we read it out loud in Italy one summer, and because I got to hear him read in Omaha five or six years ago (and now hear his stories in my head as if he were reading them out loud), I buy and read all his books (albeit rather late, in this case) despite being less impressed with them. Probably the humor is quieter and more mature, but I can't help feeling like he's not quite as funny as he used to be, or at least that the novelty has worn off.

This is not to say that When You Are Engulfed didn't have its laugh-out-loud moments. The final chapter, "The Smoking Section," was definitely my favorite, even though I have no experience with smoking or quitting.* Perhaps I simply find him at his funniest when he's writing about the difficulty of learning a language?

Actually, the final section was so funny that it kind of redeemed the rest of the book for me, which I felt started quite slowly. (I did, however, finish the book in under two weeks, while reading two others; short stories--and in Sedaris's case, often quite short--do slide down awfully easily.)

I'd recommend the book for established fans who want the usual nicely-packaged, if somewhat less hilarious, morsels of Sedaris wit. If you've never read him before, I highly suggest starting with Me Talk Pretty and moving on from there if you feel so inspired.

*It occurs to me that my life might be better if I did have more experience with quitting things, generally.

Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion

Richard Dawkins is a pompous ass, and the title of his new book is so unabashedly combative that I consistently found myself hiding it. I began reading it not long after I finished The Pillars of the Earth (or perhaps before, come to think of it), but was too embarrassed to add the title to the "currently reading" section of my blog (hence the very long delay in updating the book blog at all!).

I finally finished it, with some relief, last week. Although it's not terribly esoteric (which should probably be credited to Dawkins as a triumph, given his background), it is rather dense, in addition to being witheringly dismissive of those he seems to perceive as being unintelligent enough to disagree with his own arguments--and thus rather tiring.

It is quite brilliantly written; I think I discovered only one typographical error in the entire book, and pictured the professor himself perusing the proofs.

As far as content, I remain undecided. He presents compelling arguments for his point of view, yet his attempt to disprove the existence of God from the point of science seems somewhat misguided. He seems to believe that science should, and will, be able to understand or prove everything at some point, even if it can't right now, and I'm not sure a scientific approach is really the best way to go about discussing something like God.

When I went to Amazon for the image at the top of this post, I saw at least eight books directly confronting Dawkins' text on the first page of search results alone, so it's clear that he and his aggressively-entitled tome have stirred up some strong feelings. I am interested, and somewhat heartened, to see that there is at least a debate going on. Ignoring texts that conflict with one's worldview may be the quickest way to a quiet and unencumbered existence, but I don't believe it makes the world a better place.

Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

This tiny book was a Christmas present from my mom. Conversational, engaging, and divided into bite-sized chapters often arranged around a particular story or anecdote, it was easy to read before bed or whenever I had a spare moment.

The book avoids being saccharine or sappy, which is impressive when one considers that it was written by a man dying of terminal cancer and trying to impart life lessons. I thought it might be a tearjerker, but even I, prone as I am to weeping over pages, only got misty once, near the very end.

It's written very simply and isn't great literature, but is a fascinating record of one man's life and achievements, as well as an important reminder to appreciate and embrace life to the fullest while you have it. And though I'm pretty sure one doesn't fully appreciate the gift life is until faced with one's irrevocable mortality, Pausch's entire life, not just the period after his diagnosis, is an inspiring model of attempting as much.

Douglas Preston & Mario Spezi, The Monster of Florence

My parents' neighbor brought this over while I was studying for my exams this summer. He thought I might be interested in the subject matter, having lived in Florence for six months. I was interested, and ended up reading the book in about three days, taking guilty little breaks from my exam studying.

Preston, who is a crime novelist, brings an unmistakable drama to this already almost improbably dramatic, but nonetheless true, story. I had never heard of the Monster of Florence (although I'd read two reviews of the book before the neighbor brought it over), and was stunned to encounter the tale. The police investigation of the crimes proves to be as riveting--and alarming--a story as the murders themselves. A very quick, very easy and entertaining, if rather macabre, read.

Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

Pretty much everyone read this book before I did, and thought I would love it--especially the Italy bits, since I had lived there. They were right! I found the book completely charming, in turn hilarious, insightful, and moving.

I was initially struck by how similar to me author/narrator Liz Gilbert felt--her love of travel, her ability to make friends, her passion for my Italy. It became subsequently clear how very different we are, despite our similarities, but I think that's one of the book's strong points--a wide variety of audiences (at least of women) can relate.

I read the book in Hawaii, either on the beach or on the balcony, but I think that even if I hadn't, the book would have seemed like a miniature vacation. It did make me cry--I could identify more closely than I might have liked to with the heartbreak she felt--but it also made me laugh out loud and feel calmed and encouraged by her wisdom and the wisdom of others that she shares.