[029] The Dogs of Babel - Carolyn Parkhurst

The Dogs of Babel by Carolyn Parkhurst

What the Back of the Book Has to Say:

This exuberantly praised bestseller-one of the year's most admired and enjoyed fiction debuts--tells the story of a man's quest to solve the mystery of his wife's death with the help of the only witness: their dog, Lorelei. Written with a quiet elegance and a profound knowledge of love's hidden places, The Dogs of Babel is a work of astonishing and lasting power--a story of marriage, survival, and devotion that lies too deep for words.

Why I Picked It Up:

It was a good size for how much I thought I would read that week and when I read the back, I was super confused and thus, intrigued. 

What I Think:

One of the things I find most interesting about the back cover of The Dogs of Babel is that it really gives you absolutely no idea of what you're getting yourself into. You know the main character's wife has died and the dog witnessed it. That's it. It's not much to base a plot on, if that's all you have. Also, that last little bit, the story of "marriage, survival and devotion that lies too deep for words" seems out of place with the beginning of the paragraph. Is this a mystery? Is it a love story? Where does the dog fit in? All of these questions sprung to mind when I first read that back cover and thus, I picked up the book. So I suppose the back cover did its job.

The basic plot of the novel is this: A linguistics professor is called home from work one day as his wife was found dead in their backyard, seemingly from a fall from their apple tree. The reason she was found so quickly was because the couple's dog, Lorelei, had managed to get the neighbor's attention. Everything seems to point to it being an accident, despite Paul (our hero) knowing that there was no reason Lexy (his wife) would ever climb that tree.

Grieving, Paul turns to the only thing that remains: their dog, Lorelei. As a linguistics professor, he is aware of the strange history of talking dogs. As Lorelei is the only witness to Lexy's death, he decides to take a sabbatical in order to teach Lorelei to talk. Obviously, his friends think that he's starting to lose it but he is determined to solve the mystery of Lexy's death.

One of the most interesting things about the novel is the way that it's written. Although it's in first person (cringe), there's a very stream-of-conciousness flow that's a delight to read. The way the chapters are broken up, the reader weaves in and out of reminiscences of Paul's, switching from a session with Lorelei to a memory of Lexy. Through these flashbacks, Paul and Lexy's entire history is told, from the moment they met at a garage sale to the last day before she died. Although we start off by knowing that Lexy is dead, we engage with her character (through Paul) for almost the entire novel.

The book is an interesting study in grief, especially as Paul falls deeper and deeper into his studies of dogs. Admittedly, though, there are a few plot twists in that section of the novel that seem a little bit much. How many secret dog-talking groups do you honestly think exist in the world? But it's all okay because the real story is Paul's history with Lexy and, indeed, Paul's bond with Lorelei.

The only problem I had with this book (and it's a big one) is the fact that, honestly, I couldn't stand Lexy. In my opinion, she is the definition of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She rolls into Paul's life and sends him on this whirlwind journey of self-confidence, while being bizarre and quirky at the same time. She makes masks for a living. She has random bursts of anger. Reading her character should make one seriously worry about her mental health. While I could see why she would be a fantasy to a man like Paul, she never seemed like a real person to me. She was an ideal, a kind of character that no real woman would ever really be. That kind of ruined the book for me.

Interestingly, just as I started writing this review, it was announced that Steve Carell is to play Paul in an upcoming movie adaptation. I don't know how I feel about a movie of this coming out. Two hours of watching Lexy on a big screen? No thanks. I also don't really envision Paul much like Steve Carell but I suppose we'll just see how it plays out.

It's a quick read and it's interesting. I really did want to find out what really happened on the day Lexy died. The ending is rather abrupt and kind of made me dislike Lexy even more (especially considering this "devotion that lies too deep for words" nonsense) but I can honestly say that it was a page-turner. Just one that left a bad taste in my mouth.

A Very Short Hiatus

I find it unfortunate to admit that my computer is currently being repaired by the wondrous geniuses at the Ginza Apple store. I will be without my laptop--and thus, my reviews--for the next five to seven days.

The good news, however, is that I have already read two books in this unexpected computer drought and have a feeling I will read many, many more in the coming days. Look forward to some YA, a couple of books loaned to me by well-meaning friends, and, best of all, another Catherine Coulter!

See you soon, bookworms!

[028] Nocturnes - Kazuo Ishiguro

Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro

What the Back of the Book Has to Say:

In Nocturnes, Kazuo Ishiguro explores the ideas of love, music and the passing of time. From the piazzas of Italy to the 'hush-hush floor' of an exclusive Hollywood hotel, the characters we encounter range from young dreamers to cafe musicians to faded stars, all of them at some moment of reckoning. 

Gentle, intimate and witty, this quintet is marked by a haunting theme: the struggle to keep alive a sense of life's romance, even as one gets older, relationships flounder and youthful hope recedes. 

Why I Picked It Up:

I had really enjoyed Never Let Me Go and wanted to read more of Ishiguro's work.

What I Think:

Nocturnes is a series of short stories that revolves around music, nightfall and the changes love goes through over passage of time. Ishiguro wrote all of them to go together, a sort of musical piece in movements, with reappearing themes, characters and locations. Although they are all separate short stories, it's easy to notice the connection between them. 

The first (and best, in my opinion) story, Crooner, tells the story of a young piazza musician in Italy meeting one of his idols from childhood and performing with him for the singer's wife. The mood, the feeling, the melancholy romance really set the tone for the coming stories and establish an atmosphere of love and regret that will haunt all of the coming stories.

Crooner is followed by Come Rain or Come Shine, the story of a man who has lived abroad since college teaching English. He returns to his native England for a vacation, staying with a couple, his old friends from college. While most of the story is a kind of strange physical comedy with him overreacting while alone in their home, the strange sense of the weariness that comes from the strain of a relationship over time really culminates in the last few paragraphs. If you make it that far.

Next is Malvern Hills, the story of a failing young musician that goes to stay with his sister and her husband in their rural town for the summer, to work on his music and help in their cafe. While there, he meets a travelling Swiss couple who he almost immediately dislikes but after a few more encounters in the hills, their relationship changes into a sort of camaraderie. It isn't until their last meeting that he realizes how fragile relationships like that can be.

Nocturne, the titular story, actually continues a thread (well, a character) from the first story, Crooner. Due to a twisted sense of logic, a saxophonist agrees to plastic surgery and has to hide out in a hotel while he heals. He ends up becoming sort of friends with his neighbor, an aging Paris Hilton-type. Despite a few evenings of true bonding, however, our narrator is forced to confront that he never will completely respect her.

Last is Cellists, a return to our Italian piazzas and the story of a young man with ambition and an aging woman with a lot of talent and a bit of a mysterious air about her. Told from the point of view of a man who used to work with the young man once, we see the sad mistake of waiting too long to make your own miracle happen.

One interesting stylistic choice Ishiguro has made in these stories is to use narrators who are both unreliable and not the main focus of the story at all. Perhaps they reveal more about themselves than they realize in their monologues but the narrator is always telling someone else's story, whether they realize it or not. This distance from characters adds to the atmosphere, making the stories both harder to interpret and hazier than his other works.

Each story contains an element of the musical, usually pertaining to a character's wasted potential. A musician who is too afraid to improve, a saxophonist who's talent is overshadowed by his looks and age, a performing couple who fear they are selling out their heritage. The music they play or associate with themselves becomes a symbol of their ideal selves that they are, unfortunately, never going to live up to. 

To be honest, while I found the stories all very interesting as I read them, I can't say that I particularly enjoyed the book. Despite my affinity for the regretful romance trope in literature, I can't say that any of these stories really struck a tone with me. I was curious what the general response was when this book first came out and I searched out some reviews. A good number said, while they might not strike you at first, they haunt you afterwards. Personally, I don't consider myself haunted.

Now, to be honest, there definitely is a certain mood the novel evokes and perhaps that feeling has stuck with me a bit. But I'm only writing this review perhaps four days after finishing the book and had to quickly remember what half of the stories were. I don't think that says much for their ethereal quality. 

Perhaps I'm just uncultured but I can't say that I particularly enjoyed Nocturnes. I do find that I am in the minority with that, though, so I will leave you to your own explorations.   

[027] The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon - Stephen King

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King

What the Back of the Book Has to Say:

On a six-mile hike on the Maine-New Hampshire branch of the Appalachian Trail, nine-year-old Trisha McFarland quickly tires of the constant bickering between her older brother, Pete, and her recently divorced mother. But when she wanders off by herself, and then tries to catch up by attempting a shortcut, she becomes lost in a wilderness maze full of peril and terror. 

As night falls, Trisha has only her ingenuity as a defense against the elements, and only her courage and faith to withstand her mounting fears. For solace she tunes her Walkman to broadcasts of Boston Red Sox baseball games and follows the gritty performances of her hero, relief pitcher Tom Gordon. And when her radio's reception begins to fade, Trisha imagines that Tom Gordon is with her-- protecting her from an all-too-real enemy who has left a trail of slaughtered animals and mangled trees in the dense, dark woods...

Why I Picked It Up:

This novel has been sitting on my bookshelf at home since I was eleven. It was time to actually read it.

What I Think:

I was raised to love horror. My father needed someone to take to scary movies and watch late night sci fi and horror television with as it was made quite clear in the beginning of their marriage that my mother was not going to be that person. After taking her to see Predator when she was pregnant with me, my mother officially swore off horror movies and left the task of amusing her husband to her unborn child. As soon as I was able to, I heartily enjoyed my calling.

As such, I've been well acquainted with Stephen King for a long time. Although I can't for the life of me remember the first Stephen King I encountered, my greatest memory of him is reading It over summer break before high school. I had always liked the television movie and found, to my delight, that the novel was even better. King's style played up everything and while I usually find it hard to get spooked by a book, I remember having to put the book down a few evenings because I was starting to stare over my shoulder a few more times than was warranted. To this day, that book remains in my top five. 

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon was actually given to me by my beloved Aunt Shannon when I was around eleven years old. She had read it, enjoyed it and said that the main girl reminded her of me so she gave me my own copy. I was a pretty precocious reader back in those days so it really wasn't all that strange to give me a copy of a Stephen King book. I was really grateful, stuck the book on the bookshelf and there it stands to this day. I would glance over at it every once in awhile, think "I should read that" and then go about my daily life. So when I found the book at Ogikubo, just sitting on the shelf, I knew I had to pick it up.

This novel is intense but it's very good. Very quickly into the book, Trisha goes off the path while hiking with her brother and mother to use the bathroom, mostly because she's annoyed they're not listening to her. She tries to return via shortcut and soon discovers that she can't really find her way back to the path. The next two hundred pages chronicle her wanderings in the wilderness with just the clothes on her back, a packed lunch, a poncho and her Walkman. 

There's something really interesting about a book centered on a solitary figure like that. Every once in a blue moon, King will give a throwaway reference to what's going on in the search for Trisha but 99% of the book is just Trisha and her thoughts. She makes good decisions and bad ones but almost everything is done on a whim or based on information she thinks she remembers hearing once. Days pass and you watch her slowly run out of food and water, withering down to a stalk of a girl, endlessly trying to find traces of civilization. 

As the novel progresses, however, a strange presence starts to follow Trisha. Obviously it wouldn't be Stephen King without a spooky element. The greatness of this "God of the Lost" that is stalking Trisha is that it's not introduced until a few days into her journey, at which point she has already hallucinated sounds and images. This could be a horror novel or just a survival novel with a slow descent into insanity. The ambiguity is delicious. 

One drawback for me is that I don't know baseball as well as I should. Although I am a Mariner's fan, I admit that it has been pretty recent and I don't know much about the sport. The book is framed in the style of a baseball game, the chapter titles different innings. If I knew more about baseball, I'm sure this would give me a lot more insight but, unfortunately, it was one of those "I know this is awesome but I'm missing it" moments. 

The whole book really does have a baseball theme. Trisha loves the Red Sox and tries to keep her sanity by listening to games and thinking about her favorite player, Tom Gordon. Gordon eventually becomes a constant hallucination by her side and ends up giving her advice when she is at her last challenge. It's an interesting motif  and spin on the "lost in the woods" story that has been told so often.

As this is Stephen King, I wasn't entirely sure how the book was going to end. Was she going to be rescued? Was she going to die in the woods? It could honestly have gone either way. And the ending did not disappoint. I won't spoil it, obviously, but there is definitely a worthy conclusion to the feverish tale.

I would highly recommend this book. It's a pretty quick read, between page length and page-turner statuses, and for those who don't really enjoy horror, it's honestly not all that scary. If you've ever slightly jumped while camping or looked up quickly when you heard a twig snap, then this is for you.

[026] The Seventh Sacrament - David Hewson

The Seventh Sacrament by David Hewson

What the Back of the Book Has to Say:

"There's an entire underground city down there... houses and temples, entire streets."

Giorgio Bramante, a Roman archaeology professor, was master of the hidden world beneath the earth -- until the day he lost his young son, Alessio, to a group of students intent on re-creating a centuries-old ritual to a long-banished god. His rage knew no bounds and, in a frenzy, he beat one of the students to death.

Released from prison fourteen years later, Giorgio is bent upon a terrifying revenge on all those he blames for the loss of his son. Inspector Leo Falcone, a member of the original investigating team, is one of his targets.

And Nic Costa, watching Falcone move relentlessly into the man's merciless grip, realizes the answer must lie in solving a cold case that, like the forgotten Alessio Bramante, has long been regarded as dead and buried for good.

Why I Picked It Up:

I was feeling like a good mystery and between the back of the book and its 500ish pages length, it seemed like a good bet.

What I Think:

I don't know if it's me or if it's Japan but this book has continued the strange pattern of my picking up books that are fifth in a detective series. There have been hits (Upon a Dark Night) and there have been misses (Shrink Rap). It all really comes down to how much of the book is devoted to the mystery and how much of the book is devoted to characters that, if you are just starting at book five like I seem to always do, you know nothing about. It's a delicate balance that a devoted series reader will never notice and someone forced to read books out of order, despite being an avid series reader most of her life, is made painfully aware of. 

Now, the actual mystery of this book is, indeed, very interesting. Bramante was especially interested in the Mithraic religion and the novel centers around the seven fold path of Mitharism. I felt kind of blessed because I had visited the best preserved Mithraic temple in San Clemente last year and actually had an idea of what they were talking about: an ancient men's religion centered on overcoming fear through manliness and violence. It definitely suits the tone of the novel. 

The entire novel is told in two perspectives: the past and the present day. Depending on the way a small figurehead of a Roman statue is facing underneath the chapter number is the indication of what time period you are in. Thus, the reader is at once both watching the day that Alessio Bramante disappeared fourteen years ago and watching the police chase his father during a murder rampage in present day. By keeping the plot ever moving forward in this way, there is always the promise of more information, of more clues and it never really gets boring.

Until about page 300. You see, the biggest problem this novel has is that, for all its 526 pages of length, it only really needs maybe 300 of them. I swear, there wasn't even a plot twist until 390-something. The plot just continued forward with nothing happening that you weren't expecting. Even when we're first introduced to Giorgio Bramante, killer at large, he has already killed five of the seven targets on his list. If you're going to write a mystery about a man killing people in revenge for a missing child, at least give the reader the satisfaction of following him around for most of it. It almost feels like we jumped in to the story a little too late and missed the good parts. There are twists and turns, granted, but most of them come too little too late. Almost all of the most interesting information is presented in the last fifty pages, where you have pretty much already zoned out at this point. 

Added to this is the main characters themselves. The big question: are they interesting even if you haven't read the earlier novels? Well, yes and no. As personalities, they do seem to be fairly interesting, although it does take awhile to figure out who, exactly, is who. There's our hero, Nic Costa, who may have had some sort of past but now he's just a stereotypical hero. His girlfriend is Emily Deacon, an American who may or may not have used to work for the FBI (they were never super clear). There's Falcone, somehow a superior to Costa who used to be one way but now is another? There's the female pathologist who is very no-nonsense and her boyfriend (I think) who is a fellow agente and very tough-man. Basically, you can get a short idea of their personalities but not really any insight into them as the author assumes you already know them. 

The most frustrating part of all of this is that, apparently, the previous book in this series ended on a humongous cliffhanger. There are all these references to "after what happened in Venice" and "still recovering from Venice" and "due to his injuries in Venice." However, they never reference what happened in Venice. I can only assume it was the previous book in the series, especially due to who I assume is a new character and how they kept mentioning how she seemed so strange "since [they] found her in Venice." 

Did I love this book? Well, no. I was entertained reading it but I kept wondering when something was actually going to happen. Despite that, though, I can honestly say that I was a little intrigued by all this name-dropping of the past. I kind of want to know what happened in Venice. I'm curious if Emily Deacon was introduced in book one as an FBI agent and what Falcone was like before he apparently changed so dramatically in this novel. Although the mystery was overly long and the ending super abrupt, I would pick up this author again, just out of sheer curiosity. 

You win this time, Hewson.

[25] Girl With a Pearl Earring - Tracy Chevalier

Girl With A Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier

What the Back of the Book Has to Say:

"Chevalier is a master of the telling detail, the evocative image... Through such detail, Chevalier draws the reader into the world of the painting, into the mood of the masterpiece she explores: moving, mysterious, at times almost unbearably poignant. Sometimes it seems so strong the reader can almost sense it, feel it breathing all around. This is a novel which deserves, and I am sure will win, a prize -- or two."

- The Times

Why I Picked It Up:

I like historical fiction and vaguely remembered a movie based on it.

What I Think:

Girl With a Pearl Earring is yet another novel that spawned a movie that I had heard more about than the original book. The movie came out when I was just out of middle school and I only vaguely remember it as the first movie where I knew who Scarlett Johansson was. I may have known that it was based on a novel of the same name but as I never saw the movie, I never though much of the book.

Last week, when I looked through the shelves (after already grabbing The Reader), I noticed this book and thought "Oh, yeah. I've heard of this." It had a very intriguing cover and there were rave reviews on the back of the book. It sounded interesting and possibly amazing, if the reviewers weren't crazy. I'm always down for a good book and decided on those two for the next two weeks (little did I know I'd finish them both in six days). 

What I think is the most interesting part of this novel is actually the basic concept of it, itself. I love that the author took a famous painting by a mysterious but famous painter and decided to write a backstory for it. It's really a genius idea. Little is known about Vermeer the man and what little is known is interesting. He lived in a tiny Dutch village all his life. He had fifteen children, eleven of whom survived to adulthood. He was always on the edge of poverty, skyrocketing just before his death. He sounds like an intriguing character.

He, however, is not the protagonist. Our heroine is Griet, daughter of a tile painter who was recently blinded in an accident. Due to the family's turn in fortune, she is required to go work for the Vermeer family as a maid. It's a downturn in her status, the mother and third daughter cannot stand her for unknown reasons, and (worst of all) the Vermeers are a Catholic family in a Protestant town. Griet, along with everything else, has to deal with religious iconography following her around the house. 

Most of the novel deals with her changing lifestyle, getting used to being a maid, the advances of the butcher's son, family politics she carefully maneuvers around. However, she was specifically hired for one duty: cleaning the painter's studio. Because of this, she is envied by some in the house for her access to such a private place (which even his wife isn't allowed inside). The novel plays with this intimacy and all the different stages Griet goes through with Vermeer. There is a strange sense of longing through most of the book, evoked by painting.

Several paintings are described in detail as he works on them and it's interesting to read a book and be able to go online and see the images for oneself. This sounds awful, I know, and forgive me art critics but honestly, most of the paintings sounded more impressive in the novel than they looked on the internet. I don't know if that says something good about Chevalier's writing or something bad about my eye for famous art.

There is an interesting device the author uses of never mentioning Vermeer by name. All the characters in the book are adressed as Griet, Catharina, Cornelia, and so on but Vermeer is always simply 'he'. At first, it was vaguely uncomfortable but it does create an intriguing sense of distance and respect, as if he is not a man but some sort of other being. It certainly affects the characters in the novel and it's fascinating to watch it play out.

It is interesting to read historical fiction like this, to go through a typical day with Griet as she hand washes the laundry, goes to the butcher and the fishmonger and sometimes even the apothecary. Despite being so far in the past, Griet is a good narrator, a smart girl with a good head on her shoulders that just has a lot to deal with in her life. She is as relatable as she could be, given the circumstances and, I feel, how much you liked her as a narrator will correspond with how much you enjoy the end of the novel.

The one thing I don't understand about this book, however, is the reviews for it. It's a fine book, to be sure, but I don't really see what it deserves an award for. It's entertaining, well written and enjoyable but it's not particularly deep or moving. I didn't come out of this novel feeling like I learned a lesson about life or love or anything in particular, except perhaps be wary of famous painters and the effect they could have on your life. I'm not saying the book is bad, far from it; I'm just saying that it's nothing super special, either. 

Either way, though, it's a good read and I would recommened it. Just don't expect it to change anything but your views on seventeenth century Holland.

[024] The Reader - Bernhard Schlink

The Reader by Bernhard Schlink

What the Back of the Book Has to Say:

"Bernhard Schlink's extraordinary novel The Reader is a compelling meditation on the connections between Germany's past and its present, dramatised with extreme emotional intelligence as the story of a relationship between the narrator and an older woman. It has won deserved praise across Europe for the tact and power with which it handles its material, both erotic and philosophical."

-Independent Saturday Magazine

Why I Picked It Up:

I had enjoyed Catcher in the Rye so much that I wanted to read something heavy-ish. A book about Nazism and questionably appropriate relationships that inspired an award winning movie? Sounded like it fit the bill.

What I Think:

When I came to Japan as an exchange student almost two years ago now, The Reader (the movie) was just being released on this side of the world. Of course, it had already had its heyday in America and I knew a bit about it, as I tend to know a bit about every movie that comes out, nevermind whether I end up seeing it or not. I remember taking the train to university every morning and seeing the banner for the movie hanging from the carriage's ceiling and laughing at what the Japanese had titled the movie. 

The Japanese title of the movie roughly translated to "The Person Who Reads Love." I found this hilarious. What little I knew about the movie at this point was this: Kate Winslet played a female Nazi who was having an affair with an underaged boy. Somehow books were involved. I could not think of a less romantic story to have such a romantic title. I chalked it up to a case of the Japanese not really grasping the point of some movies and marketing it their own way.

To this day, I haven't seen the movie. I know that it won a lot of awards and Kate Winslet even got the Oscar for her performance in it but I'm not really one for serious movies most of the time and it didn't really appeal to me. Whenever I thought of the title, the only image that came to mind was Hugh Jackman doing his Oscar opening montage and singing, with people dressed in metallic suits behind him, "The Reader~ I didn't see The Reader~"

With all of this bizarre lead up to the novel, I knew to expect something deep and possibly very sad. That was what I was in the mood for. But the novel was nothing like what I expected and it blew me away.

The Reader is told in three parts, all from the point of view of a man named Michael Berg at different stages in his life, as if he is looking back and reflecting in old age. The first section recounts his relationship with a woman named Hanna when he was only fifteen years old. His early descent into sensuality and carnality leaves its mark on him for years to come. This is the section of the plot that it seems most of the promotion for the movie centered around. When I told my mother I read The Reader, she responded with "I've never seen that movie. All I know is that Kate Winslet was naked a lot." Which is probably true but if that's all one focuses on, one would miss the point.

The second section (and my particular favorite) has Michael in college, taking a class on the law and how the government is dealing with the repercussions of Nazi Germany. Michael attends a war crimes trial as part of his class and is surprised to see Hanna again after many years, this time as a defendant in the case. This causes Michael to reconsider a lot of beliefs he thought he held and struggle with philosophical questions that even the reader will have to really consider as they follow along. 

The third and final section finds Michael as a man who has lived a sort of life and is dealing with the echoes of his unusual past when he is forced to confront something he never really wanted to. 

This novel is a beautiful piece of work, told in a very simplistic style that both blunts ideas and veils them. The use of repetition of phrases and themes, the non-romanticly written romance, and the memoir-esque tone all firmly establish a dissonance of distance and intimacy with the narrative, mirroring how Michael deals with the world around him.

The entire book is a long metaphor for how Germany should deal with its past. Michael is a representative of the first generation of Germans post-World War II, the children who could not respect nor understand their parents but still had to learn from them. The books asks questions like can someone have both understanding and condemnation? How exactly is blame established? and Can anything be seen in black and white? 

This is all perfectly incapsulated in the main theme of the book, the secret that Hanna would rather keep than use to help her in court. Michael struggles with his knowledge of it and there really is no right answer. And that is this novel in a nutshell: there is no right answer. There are only humans and actions. What are laws? What is morality? At what stage should you judge by any factor? 

I really enjoyed this novel and it's a surprisingly fast read. It's only a little over 200 pages and the chapters are so short, I found I had finished it in two train rides. Despite that, however, I think it really will stick with me for years to come. Highly recommended, if you're in the mood for some light heavy reading.