Ben O'Connell
@benjaminoc
Dad, husband, promiscuous reader, former music geek, wannabe movie nerd, Montanan, NE DC Canine Knucklehead Ward co-founder, C-SPAN director of editorial operations
I’m rereading (heavy skimming) Caroline Fraser’s excellent PRAIRIE FIRES: THE AMERICAN DREAMS OF LAURA INGALLS WILDER for a book club and just got to the Peshtigo wildfire. Extraordinary it happened at the same time as The Great Chicago Fire and had 4x-8x the casualties, yet it’s nearly forgotten.
Finally picked up my copy of Paul Tremblay’s latest, DEAD BUT DREAMING OF ELECTRIC SHEEP. Tremblay’s horror novels are among the most narratively sophisticated I’ve read in recent years. I always know I’m in good hands with him.
COWBOYS & ALIENS is both not good and better than its reputation suggests. It also left me with one lingering question: what in the hell was Sam Rockwell thinking?
Angels trapped in statues, time-traveling Nazis, and messy adult relationships—Francis Spufford’s historical fantasy NONESUCH is magnificent.
Having previously read only JOSEPH & HIS BROTHERS, Thomas Mann’s THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN is coming as quite a shock.
Only one of our current two is a pit mix, and she refuses to acknowledge the world exists outside the house if there is a hint of rain. This is my favorite recent picture of our current babies. They were keeping watch over my wife as she changed shoes.
LEGALLY BLONDES may not be the worst Hollywood movie ever made but damned if I can prove it.
Amy Gamerman’s THE CRAZIES tells the story of a battle over a wind farm in Montana’s Crazy Mountains. Despite the pun-begging title, Gamerman does not condescend to the rubes or mock the elites. The people are colorful and complicated—and perfect illustrations of tensions roiling the state.
Ryszard Kapuściński’s SHAH OF SHAHS is an impressionistic portrait of life under the Pahlavis and the last Shah’s downfall, but it is about more than Iran. Kapuściński writes as if to explain the sweep of history—the mechanisms of power, the delusions of despots, and the inevitability of revolution.
Ethan Rutherford’s magnificent NORTH SUN, OR THE VOYAGE OF THE WHALESHIP ESTHER had me hooked long before hints of magical realism crept into the text. What follows is as terrifying and awe-inspiring as the finest horror novel.
K. C. Constantine excels at sociological fiction, portraying the intertwined politics, prejudices, and relationships of mid-size city life with extraordinary vitality. UPON SOME MIDNIGHTS CLEAR is another fine example.
W. P. Wiles’s THE LAST BLADE PRIEST has hallmarks of epic fantasy: quests, politics, gods, prophecies, unlikely fellowships, high-stakes conflicts, and fantastical creatures. Yet Wiles defies expectations at every turn.
BRIAR ROSE is Robert Coover’s short, dense retelling of Sleeping Beauty. It has some things in common with Angela Carter’s THE BLOODY CHAMBER, but Coover seems far more interested in the nature of storytelling than anything off the page.
I will reread Denis Johnson’s TREE OF SMOKE someday. He nods to Greene, Conrad, Dante, and the Bible throughout the narrative sprawl as his characters attempt to divine salvation from damnation amidst a purgatory. It would take another read for me to start putting those pieces together.
Italo Calvino’s THE BARON IN THE TREES is not as weird or wonderful as INVISIBLE CITIES, but the latter never brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful, heartbreaking, and, sometimes, very funny novel.
Octavia Butler’s PARABLE novels are brutal but compelling. She had a great grasp on the ebb and flow of history and used it to great effect.
Olga Ravn’s THE WAX CHILD is the strangest and most beautiful historical fiction I’ve read in recent memory.
Muriel Sparks’s LOITERING WITH INTENT is dark, vicious, and hilarious.
The plot has holes deeper than Valentine Dyall’s voice, but CITY OF THE DEAD (1960) more than gets by on atmosphere. It’s been a while since I’ve had so much fun watching a movie.
The last time Krist Novoselic was at C-SPAN, 9 years ago today, I asked whether I could have a picture. He was gracious as always, but, of course, I blinked at just the wrong time. So, one of my cousins offered to “fix” the picture for me…
Googling the Monroeville Mall, where Romero shot DAWN OF THE DEAD, led me to checking out this book from the library.