The Shards (Bret Easton Ellis, 2023) BEE is the man. Made me want to read everything he’s ever written. There were times when I was reading this in bed and I’d get so scared that I didn’t want to get up to use the bathroom. Summoned the feeling of being 12-13 and paralyzing myself with fear by reading Stephen King novels late into the night. The King influence is strong here. The scariest thing I’ve read by Ellis. The novel sees him reflecting on the process of creating fiction out of life, combining autofictional reminiscences about his time at the Buckley School in Los Angeles with a disturbing serial killer plot that rivals anything Stephen King has produced. I devoured this novel.
Cold Moon Over Babylon (Michael McDowell, 1980) I first became aware of McDowell while researching the movie Clue for an ill-conceived paper on Chaucer during grad school (don’t ask). McDowell wrote the novelization of the movie script, and he also wrote the screenplays for Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice and The Nightmare Before Christmas. In my research, I learned that McDowell had an extensive collection of death memorabilia – 76 boxes worth – which is now housed at Northwestern University. Looking back I wish I’d gone up to Northwestern to see the collection when I lived in Chicago, especially now after reading this book, which I quite liked. It’s a grotesque, beautifully written Southern gothic horror novel, with genuinely disturbing imagery, memorably funny characters, and a richness of atmosphere and place that far surpasses that of most novels. Stephen King’s blurb from the '80s called McDowell “the finest writer of paperback originals in America,” and it’s easy to see why. Would definitely be excited to read more McDowell.
Communion (Whitley Strieber, 1987) This is a classic of the UFO experience genre. Strieber was a bestselling novelist at the time of the experiences described in this book, and his gift for storytelling elevates the material to something truly bizarre, bewitching, and frightening. It’s impossible to come away from this believing he just made it all up. Either Strieber and his entire family are all completely insane, or the stuff described here really happened. The episodes Strieber describes do not conform to traditional storytelling structures, which somehow adds to their seeming verisimilitude. I was especially scared reading this because it all takes place in a cabin in the woods in upstate New York, relatively close to where I live, also in a cabin in the woods. Incidentally I’ve long believed that I’m overdue for a UFO experience, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if one happens relatively soon. The truth is out there. Trust.
Gut and Physiology Syndrome (Natasha Campbell-McBride, 2020). Hippocrates said “All disease begins the gut,” and Campbell-McBride has clearly taken this dictum to heart. Her basic thesis is that small tears in the gut allow bacteria to infiltrate the bloodstream and organs, causing a wide array of physical and physiological symptoms. To treat leaky gut, she prescribes a diet composed largely of meat, meat stock, connective tissue, eggs, and fermented foods, with zero grains and limited plant foods. In 2013 I was given Prozac to treat anxiety and panic attacks, and anytime I took it on an empty stomach I felt a scorching, burning sensation in my gut – it was completely incapacitating, to this day the worst pain I have ever experienced. I strongly believe that my mental health problems in 2015-2017 were in large part caused by this “medication,” and I think my gut has still not healed properly, contributing to my current issues with chronic fatigue. Tao Lin recommended I try this, and I’ve been eating this way for approximately 3 months. I noticed almost as soon as I started the diet that my body temperature went back to normal, after being stuck at 97 degrees for the past 3 years almost, which I’m hoping is a positive development. P.S. – There is no evidence that mental illness is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, and psychiatric “medications” function – to the limited extent that they do – by either tranquilizing the entire nervous system or via the placebo effect. Many doctors and researchers have long known this to be true (see Joanna Moncrieff, for example), and it is increasingly becoming mainstream information (google “depression chemical imbalance”), yet the myth of biological psychiatry continues to be the dominant treatment model in the US and elsewhere. Why?
The Diary of a Young Girl (Anne Frank, 1947) I read this after hearing Zach Langley talk about it on his podcast. It is a genuinely moving, yearning, beautiful book, and a masterpiece of the diary genre. The thing that inspired me most about Anne’s diary was her relentless optimism, her belief in humanity’s ultimate good even when she was surrounded by death and confronted head on with the purest, most absolute evil. I think there’s a lesson here for people in present-day America, who have all their needs met, who have the most decadent existences in all of human history, and yet still find shit to complain about, pretending their neighbors are fascists and that the whole world is ending just because people have different opinions about things. If Anne Frank could maintain her optimism and joie de vivre while locked in an attic eating rotten potatoes for years watching Nazis march Jews through the streets below her window, then I’m sorry but you really have no excuse for all the gloom and doom and manufactured panic over nothing. Grow up!
Surfacing (Margaret Atwood, 1972) I read this for my book club, we were basically united in giving it 3 out of 5 stars. The prose is lyrical and poetic to the point of distraction, two hundred pages of semi-monotonous lilt. The narrator, too, is so icy and disaffected that it’s a struggle to relate to her in any meaningful way. The book felt longer than it is, it’s kind of a slog. But there are images of real power, the nature writing in particular is beautiful, and there’s a schizophrenic wildness that takes over in the third act that I found really wonderful, and really accurate to the experience of psychosis. Overall I’m happy I read it but I’m not champing at the bit to read more Atwood.
The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand, 1943) A bold, epic novel about how social workers are Satanic and the root of all evil. So obviously a work of genius that having read it, and knowing its reputation among the literati, I feel almost in shock, I am questioning everything I’ve ever been told. Jack from The Perfume Nationalist is correct in his assessment that anyone who calls this “bad” writing is either lying or has an ideological ax to grind. Rand’s prose is sharp, undecorated, and clean, and the novel mixes noir, melodrama, and art deco maximalism in its incisive probe into themes of power and artistic genius. There were elements that reminded me of Charles Dickens, particularly in Rand’s satire of do-gooders and two-faced philanthropists. In fact the whole thing is very Victorian, particularly in its unfashionable commitment to the Manichean moral extremes of melodrama and pre-modernist romance, which, in my view, is a better and more exciting way to express truth than, say, kitchen-sink realism. Yes it is pedantic, yes it is didactic. No it is not subtle. Ellsworth Tooey is one of the great scheming sociopaths in all of literature. Read it and decide for yourself!
Ruthless Little Things (Elizabeth Victoria Aldrich, 2021) This was one of the first indie/small press books I read upon entering “the scene,” and it remains the best. Like I said on Matt Sini’s “Getting Lit” podcast, this is a book that burns a hole in you like a cigarette left lit after passing out. It is a scorching distillation of the creative spirit, a toxic love manifesto, a kaleidoscopic postmodern Sapphic romance, an LA doom generation epic in miniature, a tiny grunge miracle. Elizabeth’s voice is like Courtney Love by way of Gregg Araki by way of Sappho. This is a book I will keep coming back to forever as long as I live. It breaks my heart to think of what untold masterpieces Elizabeth might have produced had she remained with us, but we are so privileged to have this work. If you want to understand the fire that animates the creative spirit, buy this book and read it immediately.
Cheat (Danielle Chelosky, 2022) The question that animates Cheat is one of life’s eternal mysteries: Why are fucked up guys so much easier to fall in love with than nice ones? Emily Brontë pondered this question almost two hundred years ago, and now Danielle Chelosky tackles it anew. Danielle writes about the pleasures and pains of teenage love with the emotional acuity and precision of someone twice her age. The book is told in a series of fragments which detail the dissolution of the author’s relationship following an episode of infidelity. Drinking, smoking, crying, going out to eat, going to shows, hooking up, texting, making out, fighting, breaking up, making up: the raw materials are familiar, but Danielle assembles them in a way that feels fresh, urgent, intimate, and unique. The book’s great strength is its emotional honesty; it vibrates and hums with the poetic realness of teenage melodrama. I’m very excited to read more from Danielle. PS – I also love this book as a physical object, it has that B&W punk minimalist spirit of early zines. Fun to look at and hold in your hands.
Play the Devil (Scott Laudati, 2016) A funny, ebullient novel of suspended adolescence, in the spirit of classic 90s comedies like Dirty Work and Billy Madison. Scott is a wonderful, warmhearted writer, he exalts the magic and romance of life while sharply observing its contradictions and frustrations. The novel takes place almost entirely over the course of a single day, following two pool boys as they struggle to vanquish eleven of the filthiest, gnarliest pools in all of New Jersey. Sort of like a Jersey Shore riff on The Odyssey, but instead of cyclops and sirens there’s Russian mobsters, male strippers, and Nazi war criminals – and they all need their pools cleaned. The book captures, with heart and aplomb to spare, the squishy, slapstick comedy of life, love, and low wage work.
The Queen’s American Rangers (Donald J. Gara, 2015) I got this on loan -- against my will -- from the lady I get eggs from, who happens to be a Revolutionary War reenactor, and a Loyalist at that. To think! I made it to the Battle of Brandywine but even that was an effort. I would recommend this book to people who have trouble sleeping. Keep it by your bed, it’s like a double strength Nyquil with no hangover. (NB: I didn’t include this in my photo of all the books because it’s in a bag with a bunch of empty egg cartons and Mason jars in my car)
