READ. ENJOY. REPEAT.
What some of the people in our newsroom are reading this summer
KIRSTIN ENDEMANN The Gentleman Bastards Trilogy Scott Lynch Bantam
I pass on this recommendation for a fantasy/adventure trilogy to those who have also been waiting painfully for Patrick Rothfuss or George R.R. Martin to complete the next books in their popular fantasy series.
The protagonist is Locke, a street urchin turned charming con artist and inadvertent hero who lives in the underbelly of an Italianate, late-medieval world where magic is a rarity with fellow thieves: thoughtful bruiser Jean, scampish twins Calo and Gado and leader Chains. The bunch are devoted “priests” to the god, the Crooked Warden, and pay homage by relieving the wealthy of their funds with satisfying style, using only their guile, long-game cons — and great table manners.
Following the fantasy trope, Locke & friends are soon roped into internecine intrigue and madcap efforts in a bid to “save the world” and their own skins. This gets them caught in the politics between the crime bosses, the ruling elites, and some seriously nasty folk (insert magic here).
This may seem a predictable narrative, but that is part of what makes this a good summer read — along with the multi-layered, political storylines and some chuckle-worthy banter (not surprisingly, the book’s film rights were quickly picked up).
But what has kept me hooked are Locke’s backstory revelations, the appropriate-but-shocking violence in a book that seems otherwise comfortingly familiar, and Lynch’s nuanced, “show, don’t tell” character reveals at just the right moments. Plus, there were plot twists I never saw coming.
TYLER DAWSON East West Street: On the origins of ‘genocide’ and ‘crimes against humanity’ Philippe Sands Penguin Random House
What’s in a term? Genocide. Crimes against humanity. Words you’ve heard since you first learned about the Holocaust in school. But there was, in fact, a longrunning academic debate about the two terms, right up to the Nuremburg Trials.
At issue here is crimes against individuals or crimes against groups.
In this astonishing book, Philippe Sands, a University College London law professor, takes readers on the journey of the two terms — maybe the most important ideas to come out of the 20th century.
Now, this might seem a bit heavy for beach reading. But it isn’t. The book is written as if a novel, with a dazzling cast of characters, and some gorgeous and heartbreaking vignettes of Sands’ own family and their experience with the Second World War and the Holocaust. As well, there’s a central location: Lviv, variously named and variously located in the shifting cartography of Europe.
It’s spectacularly pulled-off, fun to read in its way, deeply sobering and thoroughly fascinating, and Sands’ narrative hauls you along for the ride, both intellectual and on his own personal journey of discovery about his family’s past. Buy it, and take it to the beach. You won’t regret it.
DON BUTLER The Book Thief Markus Zusak Knopf
A novel set in Nazi Germany, narrated by Death, may not immediately strike you as obvious summer reading. But The Book Thief, first published in 2005 by Australian author Markus Zusak, is extraordinary on many levels.
Written for a young-adult audience, its story has such universal appeal that it stayed on the New York Times bestsellers list for 375 weeks and was made into a film in 2013.
Though Zusak doesn’t sugarcoat the events in his story, as Time magazine noted, he makes his ostensibly gloomy subject matter bearable “the same way Kurt Vonnegut did in Slaughterhouse Five: with grim, darkly consoling humour.” Even Death turns out to be a surprisingly agreeable and nuanced storyteller.
On his website, Zusak describes The Book Thief as “just a small story really, about, among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist fighter, and quite a lot of thievery.”
The girl is 10-year-old Liesel Meminger, who’s being raised by foster parents in a small German town during the Second World War. The accordionist is Hans Hubermann, Liesel’s foster father, who teaches her to read the words in the books that give her life meaning.
The fanatical Germans are Nazis and the Jewish fist fighter is Max Vandenburg, whom Liesel’s adoptive parents shelter in their basement at significant personal risk. The thievery involves books appropriated by Liesel — the book thief of the title — but a great deal of other pilfering and larceny as well.
The Book Thief is a story about life and mortality, the importance of language and reading, and — perhaps most of all — the power of love. Tragic things happen that can moisten eyes. Death is the narrator, after all. But you won’t soon forget it.
CHRISTINA SPENCER
Three great adventure books — two of them non-fiction, the third science-fiction — highlight my list of recommended dockside/cottage/ camping reads. The theme they have in common: adventure and survival against the elements.
The Martian Andy Weir Crown
First, the fiction. I saw the hit movie The Martian before I knew there was a book, and figured the character of astronaut Mark Watney had been tailored to fit Matt Damon’s Hollywood persona. Wrong. The cool-headed protagonist of the superbly constructed yarn is funny, scientific, philosophical and utterly heroic. He’s also believable (yes, yes, I know, it’s fiction). The novel’s real strength, however — and the movie catches a taste of this — is that it’s sciencey without baffling lay readers. In fact, it’s incredibly sciencey, yet it left this artsy fartsy reader wanting more. Author Andy Weir explains how you can grow potatoes on Mars, what transpires when the airlock springs a leak, and how sheer resourcefulness can prevail against daunting odds. Also, I laughed a lot at the portrayal of NASA politics and particularly of NASA comms people. Sorry, other comms people.
Wild Cheryl Strayed Vintage Books
Now, the non-fiction. Cheryl Strayed’s Wild, a beautiful, heart-searing account of her adventures hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, is every camper’s must-read. This time, we encounter a real-life hero, who pushes herself to heights of physical, and ultimately psychological, achievement that left me inspired. Also, I will NEVER complain about tired feet again. The movie was decent, but the book is much, much better.
In the Heart of the Sea Nathaniel Philbrick Penguin
My own favourite reading in this trio — the movie version sucks, let me just say that upfront — was In the Heart of the Sea, by Nathaniel Philbrick. This fine example of historical journalism details the true story of an enraged white whale — Finding Dory, this ain’t — that destroyed the Nantucket whaling ship Essex in 1820.
The tale (tail, get it?) was as well-known to 19th-century society as the saga of the Titanic is today, and eventually inspired Melville’s Moby Dick. In the Heart of the Sea recreates a chapter of American history little-known to us moderns.
It focuses on relationships and the social structure of men at sea, recounting how a small band of whalers fought to survive the worst possible disaster, the loss of their ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and the flaws, mishaps, misjudgments and, ultimately, good luck and individual grit that saw some of them survive.
If whaling isn’t your cup of tea, though, try some of Philbrick’s other books. He’s meticulous, unflinching and literate.
ROB CROSS The Fireman Joe Hill William Morrow
I have read many of Stephen King’s books; The Stand is one of my favourites, one of few books I have read more than once. Recently, though, I’ve been having trouble getting through his contemporary works and so it was with much anticipation, curiosity and excitement that I began to read Joe Hill’s novels.
For anyone who doesn’t know, Hill is Stephen King’s son. The Fireman is his most recent novel, his fourth, and I did not hesitate to pick up a copy after I zipped through Horns, N0S4A2 and his book of short stories, 20th Century Ghosts.
Regardless of Hill’s lineage, this story has a lot to place it in the category of books I would like to just sit and read while sipping a favourite beverage. It’s an end-of-the-world epic, but with a unique, weird central idea: a plague that ends in fiery death for anyone inflicted. This “plague,” and the possibility that the world could be destroyed in flames, hearkened back to my Catholic upbringing.
The main character, Harper Grayson, is a young nurse who risks infection by staying for hours every day at the local hospital to help the plague-stricken masses. That’s where she meets the mysterious Fireman, when he carries in a very sick young boy, demanding treatment to save his life.
Ultimately, the hospital burns to the ground, the telltale signs of the plague show up in Harper, and her husband abandons her, but when he shows signs of the illness, he comes back to demand that the two of them honour a suicide pact. Harper, now carrying their unborn child, of course refuses.
If you like a good end-of-time story with very credible (yet somewhat quirky) characters, you’ll probably enjoy this one. But be prepared to spend a few days in the hammock with it — it’s more than 700 pages, although it ambles along at a fairly swift pace.
The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress. — Philip Roth (b. 1933)