CivilWarLand in Bad Decline by George Saunders

5/5 stars

What's it about? George Saunders mines the human condition in a witty collection with sprinklings of the dark consumerism and theme park background of Westworld. A masterfully executed first book.

How’d I find it? A friend who loves George Saunders gave my spouse this copy. I got to it first.

Who will enjoy this book? What are you waiting for? Saunders is an American treasure that always deserves a read. But, in the interest of following my self-imposed formula, fans of Nana Adjei-Brenyah, who studied under Saunders, will find inspirations for both Friday Black and Chain-Gang All-Stars in CivilWarLand in Bad Decline. Watchers of Black Mirror and Neil Gaiman should enjoy the book’s themes and humor.

What stood out? The writing is impeccable: irreverent, funny, and joyfully spot-on. You’ll be laughing out loud and thinking to yourself, “Man, he nailed it.” Saunders intuitively understands when to tickle the brain or strum a heartstring; the turns surprise and delight. The title story and the novella “Bounty” are particular standouts.

Which line made me feel something? The last paragraph of the story “CivilWarLand in Bad Decline” is perfection, but it would be unfair to spoil it. Here’s an excellent tidbit from “Bounty:” “Discipline and other forms of negativity are shunned. Bedtimes don’t exist. Face wiping is discouraged. At night the children charge around nude and screaming until they drop in their tracks, ostensibly feeling good about themselves. ‘We ran the last true farm,’ one of the kids screams at me. ‘Until the government put us out,’ the wife says softly. She’s pretty the way a simple white house in a field is pretty. ‘Now we’re on the fucking lam,’ says a toddler. Both parents smile fondly.”

The Tusks of Extinction by Ray Nayler

2/5 STARS

How’d I find it? Because I greatly enjoyed The Mountain in the Sea, I made sure to see Ray Nayler discuss The Tusks of Extinction in person at Lost City Books.

Why not 3 or more stars? The bones of this story entice: mammoths walk the earth again with some genome tweaking à la Jurassic Park, and the ability to download and upload someone’s consciousness just might save the species. From these strong bones hangs flab: frequent dives into character’s psyches that repeat previous points (Vladimir is infuriatingly one-note) and prolonged waxing on the function of Jacobson’s organ, cells that allow elephants to communicate and remember through smell. How I wish this would’ve been shaved down into a short story! As a novella, The Tusks of Extinction succeeds mostly in pumping readers for an extra $27, which was perhaps the publisher’s goal all along.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

2/5 STARS

How’d I find it? As with a number of my most recent reads, this was in a large stack of goodies checked out from Enoch Pratt Free Library.

Why not 3 or more stars? This collaboration serves up truly sumptuous language— “an ant’s sip of juice” and “cloying honey-heavy light” —but doesn’t sell me on Red and Blue’s love. When I peeked behind the pretty words, I realized that half of this quick read is an unvaried epistolary exchange, and the other half’s low stakes and sentiment feel flimsy. I see your hand trembling, book!

Night of the Mannequins by Stephen Graham Jones

1/5 stars

How’d I find it? One of the perks of East City Bookshop is its dedicated horror section. I promised myself to only get one book, then agonized over the selection. So many good options.

Why not 3 or more stars? Like My Heart Is a Chainsaw, this book features a destructive and impulsive lead with a savior complex. Sadly for Sawyer, our unlikable narrator, the repetitive and juvenile prose style makes him tedious to follow, redeemable if there'd been more plot to punch up the story.

Oftentimes after reading the last line of a book like Night of the Mannequins, I'm overcome by that delicious creeped-out sensation where I feel alone and hyperaware, alert to another's footstep behind me on the sidewalk or in need of an extra lamp that evening. The gruesome mercy kills were gratuitous and ludicrous in this one; I closed the book feeling only yucky.