The Bowdoin Orient

For my last column of the semester, I generally compile a list of books for whatever vacation is just around the bend. But this time my last column of the semester is my last Orient column. I write it and then I graduate, the end. When I leave the land of the polar bears, I will leave having acquired a number of things during the last four years: friends, experience, knowledge, etc. And then there is my prodigious tower of books. Scanning my shelves full of hard and soft covered novels, I am confronted by with the one constant that has run through my college career; I always read.

If one is prone to dreams of romance, planes provide appealing fodder for the chance meeting that might lead one's true love. A strange intimacy can develop between people while they are crammed into the confines of scratchy seats for long stretches of time. It has something to do with the altitude. And there is the added anticipation of who might sit next to you. It's a mystery and there is a short moment of suspended time when one can imagine "Maybe this time..." Usually, it's a hairy older man, or a chatty grandma happy to talk with you for all five hours of the flight. But for Peter Russell, a fellow who is particularly prone to this line of thinking, Holly fills the seat next to his on his flight from New York to L.A., and, you guessed it, they fall madly in love. This is the premise of James Collins' novel "Beginner's Greek." The novel purports to be one both about true love and love at first sight with delicious complications.

Food is famous for its ability to bring people together. It is central to family gatherings, holidays and celebrations. First, second, and third dates usually revolve around food; there is romance in a well-laid table and the accompanying well-chosen wines. Food preferences reflect people's personalities and moods. The inherent magic of food and its preparation is the foundation of Erica Bauermeister's novel, "The School of Essential Ingredients."

Toni Morrison is the master of coaxing the voices of the past to life. The stories her characters tell are vivid, vital, and often full of sorrow. With her close narration, Morrison couples the reader's journey with the narrator's, the former bleeding in concert with the latter. In Morrison's most recent novel, "A Mercy," she once again excavates the unheard secrets of those kept silent through history.

The structure of Alice Mattison's novel "Nothing is Quite Forgotten in Brooklyn" is one of its most compelling elements. Mattison chooses to alternate between two significant periods of the protagonist's life. One chronicles a week when, house-sitting for her mother, Con's fragile marriage heads toward demise and her daughter goes missing.

Ambition is a driving force for many of us; there are few of us who don't aspire to make an impression on the world, or at least attempt to affect a single frontier. Rodes Fishburne's debut novel "Going to See the Elephant" focuses on the journey of a particular aspirant, Slater Brown. For Slater, the place to begin is San Francisco.

A dichotomy is immediately established between the two women who dominate the narrative of "The Piano Teacher" by Janice Y. K. Lee. Trudy is the exotic, flip, Portuguese-Chinese young woman who seduces whom she likes and behaves as she pleases. Claire is her demure, naive, and restrained British counterpart. They both fall in love with Will Truesdale, an appealing but not particularly unique Englishman.

In general, there is a tendency to spruce up the truth. Events are embellished; colors are enhanced. In some respects, this is an element of story telling; a story needs a hook, a startling detail. But sometimes the brilliance of the scenery overshadows the impact of the bare details. Aesthetic beauty is used as salvation, as balm. This is not the case in Aravind Adiga's raw, scathing, and humorous portrait of India in his first novel, "The White Tiger."

Some authors coax their audience into seeing through their eyes. Others immerse you in their worlds. Nam Le does the latter. His voice captured me in the first story of his debut collection "The Boat."

It took me far too long to immerse myself in the glories of "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle" by David Wroblewski. The formidably paginated book haunted the display case of the Philadelphia bookstore I worked in last summer, new copies steadily appearing as their predecessors rapidly flew the coop. I resisted the call of the dust jacket, shying away from the author's difficult surname. In January, I succumbed. Three hundred pages later I couldn't believe I had read so much and that not a single page had been wasted. I was just halfway through, and I couldn't wait for more.

August Brill, the protagonist of Paul Aster's most recent novel "Man in the Dark," can't sleep. A literary critic in his twilight, August fills his hours in darkness without the aid of sheep. Instead, he tells himself stories. "Man in the Dark" is a short book. Yet, in less than 200 words, the reader is guided toward the discovery of a number of realities. The is, was, and might be, are all present and ask to be examined from multiple perspectives.

For much of American history, the invocation of God remained an essential block of the country's foundation despite the separation of church and state. Marilynne Robinson recognized this thread and brought to life familial and religious relations in her Pulitzer-winning "Gilead." The simple, beautiful story of an aging preacher in middle America was complete. Robinson, however, now returns with a sequel, "Home."

'Tis the season for festive sweaters, twinkling lights, hot drinks and the inevitable and sometimes painful Christmas carols. It's the season for mistletoe and stocking stuffers, latkes and sleigh rides, and if you're on the brink of a secret Santa exchange or have time for shopping between finals and roasting chestnuts, here are a few holiday suggestions.

In a story, as in life, there is never a single element at work. The work of an author is to weave together all the aspects in play in a manner that does not feel contrived. The variety of dynamics operating in reality are indiscernible; this lends authenticity. But the writer has to work with the page upon which things gain permanence; the reader can perceive what is work all at once, and this is where battling formula becomes important. Hillary Jordan does so with incredible grace in her debut novel "Mudbound."

In a world increasingly reliant on instant communication via texting, e-mail, or Skype, the art of the letter is becoming obsolete. Despite decreasing use today, letters remain a treasured part of our past. While a division of the publishing industry is dedicated to printing written exchanges between historical figures such as Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell, it is hard to imagine that e-mails will have the same longevity. In "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society," the authors Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows team up to create a story that is revealed entirely through the exchange of letters

The infamous crotchety nature of Mainers is treasured by those who can proudly call the attributor their own, as well as by those who have encountered it. Olive Kitteridge, in Elizabeth Strout's novel of the same name, is one of these ornery folk. She is a retired math teacher and well remembered by her students, who never fail to mention her intimidating presence.

David Sedaris's essays about life in France and the various bruises he acquired from the language in "Me Talk Pretty One Day" have established him as a renowned comic and have sent his readers into ferocious bouts of laughter. However, Sedaris's most recent collection, "When You Are Engulfed in Flames," did not always have me rolling on the floor.

People are never exactly alike and there are a number of qualities that might set them apart from birth?that's what makes things interesting. Someone might have a knack for languages, a feel for the piano, or an easy comprehension and love of quantum physics. Others have an aptitude for art, or compassion, or problem-solving. Wealth can be viewed as another of these gifts. This is a tricky attribute to possess as a birthright; it is not a talent, but sometimes it is an attribute that people inherit. The protagonist of David Guterson's "The Other," John William Barry, spends his brief life fleeing the implications of his inheritance. His struggle prompts a question: Does one have a duty to make the best of one's gift, no matter what form it takes?

Scholars often question the authenticity of William Shakespeare's prolific and impressive canon, but in Jess Winfield's "My Name is Will: A Novel of Sex, Drugs, and Shakespeare," one aspect of his life is certain?it was a party. Winfield leaves many questions unanswered: Is it really plausible that the son of a tanner from Stratford-Upon-Avon could be the master of the theater? He had only a limited formal education, so how does one explain his immense vocabulary? But while Winfield does not try to prove or debunk the real identity of Shakespeare, he offers an engaging spin on the playwright's life in his debut novel.

Arriving for my morning shift at Head House Books in Philadelphia this summer, the title of a new arrival caught my eye. "America America," read the cover of Ethan Canin's latest novel. I wrinkled my nose in disdain. The title struck me as trite and sentimental. Bucolic images of golden skies and verdant fields came to mind. Was this book a tribute to a rose-tinted vision of the country? What purpose would that serve other than to deny the reality of the present? The apparent superficiality of the book prompted me to open the jacket, and to my surprise the summary was compelling. Applauding myself for not judging a book by its cover, I proceeded to fly through "America America."

Ah, the delight of an extra-marital affair. Authors can't get enough of them and, it seems, neither can husbands or wives. Isabel Fonseca's novel "Attachment" is a recent addition to this duplicitous canon. Jean Hubbard, the American wife of an Englishman named Mark, stumbles upon a missive from his delicious and descriptive mistress, Giovana. Correctly guessing the password to his naughtyboy1 account, Jean exchanges spicy emails with her adversary. The trajectory of Jean's erotic education follows a steep incline, seemingly in tandem with her husband's physical experiences.

Margot Livesey's latest work of fiction, "The House on Fortune Street," is comprised of four sections marked with graceful titles that only hint at the poignant nature of the scenes they contain. Each is concerned with one of the four primary characters whom Livesey skillfully conveys through the use of both first and third person voices.

Epigraphs are a somewhat less superficial way to judge a book than by its cover. The inscription usually hints at the essence of what is to follow or is the work of a favorite author. I was sold on Alan Drew's "Gardens of Water" at the sight of the page after the epigraph.

The literature that has emerged from the events of 9/11 is astounding. For better or worse things of beauty are born from ashes, and in this post 9/11 era, many of the literary phoenixes are superb.

As summer approaches, people begin to get excited about reading for pleasure. Because I am the mistress of procrastination (I may not be doing homework but I'm stimulating my intellect, right?), reading for pleasure is not quarantined to seasonal breaks, but these periods certainly provide a jolt of excitement. I no longer have to feel guilty about my favorite pastime, and the rest of you can catch up. Here are a few books to get you started.

I couldn't sleep after I finished "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahiri. It is her third book and second collection of short stories. Her first, "Interpreter of Maladies," won a Pulitzer. "Unaccustomed Earth" exceeds the standards she set in her earlier work. The collection is in every way wonderful and devastating. I was kept awake by my disappointment that the stories had ended and by a desire to remain linked to the clarity of her descriptions and to the struggles of her characters.

To fill a plane ride or the half hour between classes when you can't bear to look at one more homework assignment open "The Book of Other People" edited by Zadie Smith. Indulging in one story might lead to two or three, especially if you are lying prostrate on the Quad in between the still-wintry breezes.

Zarah Ghahramani, a 20-year-old student in Tehran, spent a month in Evin, the Iranian prison with which opponents of any regime are threatened. She was physically and psychologically tortured for her participation in student sit-ins and her desire for a little liberty.

Marriage is a hot topic. It is among the most enduring institutions and has stood for security and respectability for ages. Currently, however, it is complicated by divorce, pre-nups, and the inclusion of same-sex marriages. "Matrimony," by Joshua Henkin, is not particularly interested in any of these social or political tensions that surround the wedded state of being. His novel is simply a chronicle of a relationship.

In the space of two weeks, I read three articles about Charles Bock and his debut novel "Beautiful Children." I was impressed.

The elements are enveloping and constant in "Salt," Jeremy Page's first novel.

The thriller genre is one that I find much more palatable when it is framed by the lens of a camera. I've never read John Grisham, but I've watched and enjoyed most of the cinematic adaptations of his novels. But if you're one who enjoys being pulled to the edge of your chair (or bed) by a novel, "The Keep" by Jennifer Egan has all the makings of a thriller.

Death is expected in Irish narratives. Families in the double digits and a range of plights and despairs are familiar themes. Politics, religion and complicated sex are somehow fundamental fixtures. Anne Enright's fourth novel and 2007's winner of the Man Booker prize, "The Gathering," has these attributes imbued with an additional tone of subdued frenzy.

Loss is the most deeply entrenched theme that winds itself through Nadine Gordimer's most recent collection of short stories. The departures that occur in this collection are caused by death, circumstance, and the frequent, strange twists of life. "Beethoven Was One-Sixteenth Black and Other Stories" is representative of the South African author's firm grasp on the pulse of the post-Apartheid nation and the strains on identity and love that have come into currency due to the shrunken scale of the modern world.

The holidays provide an expanse of empty hours, perfect for those who like to combine sloth and intellectual stimulation. Bookworms are content to spend hours sprawled in a variety of uncomfortable positions for the sake of the stories in front of them. Sometimes the Christmas stack yields literary delights, other times you stir from four prostrate hours and berate yourself for not enjoying the crisp air, sunny skies and sparkling snow. (I live in Santa Fe where these things can all happen at once.) "Maynard and Jennica" by Rudolph Delson is the sort of novel that not only keeps you horizontal without complaint but induces visible grins and audible chortles, earning you skeptical glares from family members who try to occupy the same space.

As a final installment to my literary wish list, I decided to cast back to my distant childhood and dig up the oldies but goodies.

If you weren't one of millions of Americans who got their holiday shopping taken care of on Black Friday, don't worry. Despite what the insistent presence of Christmas carols suggests, the holiday is still a ways off.

The Friday after Thanksgiving is the most popular day of the year to go shopping. Window displays are inevitably full of holiday suggestions before the last turkey is gobbled.

The title of Rebecca Curtis's debut collection of short stories is "Twenty Grand: And Other Tales of Love and Money." This heading suggests glamour, but the women in "Twenty Grand" know better.

Family is understood as an integral part of the American identity. The inability to measure up to an idealized picture of the nuclear family provides fodder for a multitude of hilarity and sorrow, both in pop culture and in the privacy of personal life. "The Brambles" by Eliza Minot, sister of author Susan Minot whose delicate "Monkeys" (another book about family) is superbly haunting, is a novel about family. Its strength, however, lies in the disparate lives of the family members and how loosely their worlds align.

The lines between fiction and truth are blurred, if not altogether imagined, in Katherine Taylor's first novel, "Rules For Saying Goodbye." To begin with, her narrator is an eponymous character, and it is evident that many of the details that support the novel's structure are drawn from her own life. This makes it difficult to dislike the character and simultaneously appreciate the author's wit.

The worlds that Haruki Murakami brings to life in his novels are rarely devoid of the fantastic. Talking cats are unsurprising fixtures, as are romances that defy not only age but also disparities of time. His stories are infused with a quality of magical realism, straining against but not transcending the partitions between what is understood as possible and what is just beyond imaginable. Murakami enjoys toying with the boundaries of reality and, strangely, these challenges do not alienate his audience.

Sometimes the lives of Ian McEwan's protagonists are ruined by grandiose catastrophe, but more often he articulates the small misunderstandings as the cause for the derailment of life's expectations. "On Chesil Beach" is McEwan's latest novel dealing with the difficulties and nuances of human relationships.

Imagine yourself in a typical office, in any city, at any sedentary job, and you will find yourself at the nexus of the action in Joshua Ferris's first novel, "Then We Came To The End."

The snobbery against the titles on the bestseller lists can sometimes have a deleterious effect. My downfall arrived with the initial skepticism of my response to the appearance of Khaled Husseini on the literary radar.

It has been almost six years since the fall of the Twin Towers and the literary world, as well as the world at large, continues to respond to and grapple with the repercussions of the attacks. Don DeLillo, a New Yorker himself, contributes with the publication of his novel "Falling Man." The prominence of the attacks in the fictive literature that has appeared after September 11 is multifarious, but DeLillo's novel does not shy from keeping the fall of the World Trade Center as an ever-present shadow in his readers' minds.

Though life after finals may seem too distant to even contemplate, summer and its opportunities are just around the corner. For some, reading is going to be a last resort. But if you are anything like me, you are turning with glee toward the stack of books that have been waiting patiently to be devoured since your last real vacation eons ago. In the hope of lending a helping hand to those out there who are lost in a sea of titles, here's a brief list.

Jason Taylor is stammering and hesitant but Eliot Bolivar is a poet who can say exactly what he wants without fumbling. Jason Taylor appears eons behind his peers in the classroom while Eliot Bolivar has his poems published every month. But Jason Taylor is Eliot Bolivar.

Imagine walking around Times Square and being visually assaulted by advertisements that are tailored to your age, sex, previous purchases and personal preferences. Grandfathers see Gene Kelly advertising the latest amenities while 5-year-olds see Babar. George Saunders takes the principles of consumerism that are already deeply rooted in the American consciousness and amplifies them in his novel "In Persuasion Nation." Paying close attention to the trajectory of American dependence on material goods, he follows it upward with comic results. But within these illustrations of American absurdity lies a terrifying truth about the proximity of a world in which the only mode of existence is in compliance with the manipulative extremes of consumerism.

Jonathan's Letham's most recent novel, "You Don't Love Me Yet," is nothing if not spunky. At the nucleus, there is a band comprised of four members with a strange array of day jobs; one is a zoo employee with particular concerns regarding the happiness of a kangaroo named Shelf, another works at a masturbation boutique called No Shame. The book begins with two of the band's members deciding to end their recurring romance for good. To reveal that this resolution leads to a steamy encounter in a friend's art installment is only a taste of the mischief that Letham's youthful protagonists enjoy. As the reader, if you do not identify with any of these characters, you will likely find that they do many of the things you wish you could, enacting visions of a rock star lifestyle.

The first sentences of Howard Norman's fifth novel, "Devotion," are enough to keep the most passive reader engaged past the first page. After this first chapter, it is hard to put the book down. The pace of "Devotion" is quick and the novel is compact. Without preamble, Norman launches the reader into a fray of emotion that fuels the novel and is inherent to the human interactions therein. Immediately, the reader discovers that David, the protagonist, recently managed to nearly kill his father-in-law and estrange his wife days after their honeymoon.

As a sequel to the narrative that chronicles his family's time in France, "Paris to the Moon," Adam Gopnik brings us "Through the Children's Gate: A Home in New York." The title serves as an accurate, if incomplete, description of what the chapters of this book contain.

N. S. K?enings brings the fictional East African city of Vunjamguu and its inhabitants to life in her first novel, "Blue Taxi." The air is heavy, the scenery is rich, and her characters' lives are filled to the brim with inconsequence. The heroine's journey barely goes from Point A to Point B, but along the way there are business-savvy ice cream men and prophetic needle pointers with whom she needs to deal.

Meandering between perspectives with ease, Alice McDermott paints a credible picture of a family at the close of the World War II in "After This." The novel is fundamentally about lives formulated by happenstance. McDermott illuminates moments in the lives of the Keane family that the reader would not anticipate.

This year's winner of the Man Booker Prize is a novel told from the perspective of an illegal immigrant. Through this immigrant, the author reveals the miseries of India and America, and the destructive dredges of imperialism.

Anne Tyler's most recent addition to her body of work, "Digging to America," concerns the intersecting of different backgrounds within the canvas of family. In an era when the definition of the family is constantly changing, Tyler depicts the possibilities of mixture in an increasingly international world.

It's that time of year again: hot cider, snowflakes, and the nagging feeling that the perfect present is out there somewhere. Socks wear out and boxes of holiday chocolates are instantly consumed with nothing to show for it but poundage. However, books, particularly good ones, can be devoured without consequences and last forever.

Counting the list of books that Margaret Atwood has written requires more than two sets of fingers and toes. She is capable of writing not only novels, but poetry, nonfiction, and children's books as well. I was flabbergasted to see yet another new volume on display in the Gulf of Maine Bookstore. More remarkable still is that the frequency of her publication does not stunt its quality.

For a combination of science and literature that doesn't involve aliens (at least not many), open up "Schr?dinger's Ball," Adam Felber's first novel. This book is quirky and quick, following bizarre coincidences to its serendipitous end. It features a protagonist who is dead, though alive enough to bewitch audiences with his inspired guitar playing and consumption of absurd amounts of ice cream.

Malcolm Gladwell, author of "The Tipping Point" and a frequent contributor to "The New Yorker," published "Blink" last year. The book discusses the validity of our gut feelings, lending some weight to the idea of love at first sight and the often-scorned women's intuition. This book backs up claims my mom has been making for years.

Zadie Smith writes with a raw ferocity about the modern day clash of cultures and ideals in her first novel, "White Teeth." The overlap between the worlds is filled with tension and convolutions of common denominators. In her most recent novel, "On Beauty," Smith does not shy from friction. However, her characters are somewhat less extreme representations of their subjects, a bit less abrasive and grounded in literature in a manner that is more familiar.

If you have ever smoked a Camel cigarette, dreamed about the living the life of a princess, or had dealings with a redhead, then "Still Life with Woodpecker" is the book for you.

Summer novels are usually advertised and associated with words such as "fun," "light," "classic," and "bestseller." Though the weather is often in sync with these choices, it can prove refreshing to throw in the occasional foreign or slightly heavier novel. I don't like to include more than one Russian author on my summer reading list, so having disposed of Gogol, I chose Haruki Murakami's "Norwegian Wood."

In his career, Julian Schnabel has worked in many locations and used a wide array of artistic media. A visual artist, Schnabel's tools include those of a painter, sculptor, photographer, and film director. He will be delivering a lecture titled, "Learn How to Make Indian Jewelry from a Real Indian" in Kresge Auditorium Saturday at 5 p.m.

An overflow of talent led to the creation of a second women's a cappella group on campus. Its formation instilled a healthy balance to the a cappella community, rounding out the numbers to two co-ed, two all male, and two all female groups. BellaMafia, which performed for the first time on March 31, as the opening act for the Meddiebempsters, was formed because there was the feeling that if there was talent yet to be employed, someone should find a way to do it.

A college student, Matthew Shepard, was beaten and left to die because of his sexual orientation in Laramie, Wyoming, in October of 1998. On Tuesday, his mother Judy Shepard will speak on campus.

John Pizzarelli, performing in a quartet at Kresge Auditorium tonight at 7:30 p.m., is no small fish in the sea of great jazz musicians. Bowdoin lured Pizzarelli to Bowdoin by promising him a "full appreciative audience," according to the Music Department's concert, budget and equipment manager Delmar Small.