Tiny Monkey droppings - YOU comma Idiot by Doug Harris

YOU comma Idiot (Goose Lane Editions, 2010)

by Doug Harris

Description (from the publisher)

Marginalized and alienated, perennial fuck-up Lee Goodstone is a resounding zero: a small-time hash-dealing slacker with no ambition about where his life isn’t going. One morning, Honey, his best friend’s girlfriend, inexplicably jumps into bed with him. Then another friend, Henry, is accused of kidnapping a teenaged girl no one knew he was seeing. Lee gets embroiled in the mêlée, finds himself making flip remarks to the media, and his mediocre existence officially spirals out of control.

Told in the second person, YOU comma Idiot is a cringeworthy, laugh-out-loud flight on the wings of the protagonist. The roller-coaster ride of a plot leads at breakneck speed to places even Lee can’t anticipate.

What the Tiny Monkey thinks 

Full disclosure time; I am a publicist for Goose Lane. This is a Goose Lane product. Ergo, you cannot possibly trust my opinion. But if you do, my opinion is that not only does Goose Lane release some of the best literature this country is capable of (see: this year's wholly remarkable quartet of The Town that Drowned, The Time We All Went Marching, Tide Road, and Kalila), but last year's YOU comma Idiot is one of the best, and my favourite novel of 2010 (only reviewing on the blog now to avoid charges of favouritism and conflict of interest). Writing in the second person, a format only off-putting for the first paragraph, Harris' tale of a low-level drug dealer eking out his existence in Montreal by doing as little as humanly possible is a treat on every level. His dialogue is the highlight, as crunchy as Elmore Leonard and quick-witted as Nick Hornby, but his empathy for character and his sharpness in motivation and plotting keeps the novel humming. So sure of itself, so fleet-footed yet grounded, it is hard to believe this is a debut novel. It's as entertaining as anything out there, better written than most, and it's lack of presence on major awards lists is a devastating oversight by people who cannot comprehend that just because it's funny, that doesn't mean it's undeserving of attention.

TINY MONKEY ADORES

Tiny Monkey droppings - Idaho Winter by Tony Burgess

Idaho Winter (ECW Press, 2011)

by Tony Burgess

Description (from the publisher)

Idaho Winter begins as the story of a boy with an extraordinarily painful existence. He is, through no fault of his own, loathed by everyone in the town where he lives. His father, Early Winter, feeds him roadkill for breakfast. The crossing guard steers cars toward him as he crosses the road. Parents encourage their children to plot cruelly against him. One morning Idaho finds it too much to bear and hides down by the river where he meets Madison. Madison, astonishingly, is as hurt by how he’s treated as he is. For the first time in his life Idaho experiences someone’s empathy and it opens a terrible world of pain in him. He dotes on Madison, in awe of her, and he cleans her muddy feet in the river, drying them with his shirt. Suddenly, hunting dogs descend on the scene and, trained to attack the smell of Idaho, set their jaws on Madison’s feet.

Then Idaho does something that changes everything. He gets up and runs home. Not so strange until the author realizes that this part was never written. Idaho becomes enraged upon learning that his suffering has been cruelly designed by a clumsy writer who confesses that he made his book meaner than all the others so it would stand out. Idaho locks the author in a closet and runs off, armed with the knowledge that the entire world is invented and that he has the power now to imagine it differently.

When the author emerges from the closet he finds that his novel is now unrecognizable. Phantoms and monsters, beasts from the boy’s angry thoughts now dominate the streets. Beneath the earth there is a resistance movement of secondary characters, including the poor Madison who is now bedridden and what’s more: anyone who comes within 50 feet of her is paralyzed with sadness and cannot move or be moved. The author sets out with these characters to cure the novel, to find a way to bring its mind and heart together as they embark on a journey as perilous and paradoxical as anything HG Wells or Lewis Carroll ever imagined.

What the Tiny Monkey Thinks

Idaho is walking slowly. His feet are sore from deep dog bites and his stomach is roiling with the maggoty paw his father forced him to eat. It’s hard to say what Idaho really looks like. His hair is probably brown, but it’s so matted down with the dung of bedbugs that it could be red. His eyes, I’ve never seen; they are more than merely lowered; they are hidden, hooded, sunken back. Not enough nutrition in him to light them, maybe, or just no reason for them to look out. His hands are puffy, but I don’t think he’s a large boy; it may be that his extremities are swollen from the infectious mouths that bite him while he sleeps or just lies there, as he does, all summer — an unmoving unfortunate boy with no reason to rise.

Tony Burgess is a madman. A lovely madman, fun to talk to, kind and gentle, but a madman nonetheless, capable of unnerving a reader in a few short sentences. And Idaho Winter is unnerving for many reasons, not the least for being the most unhinged novel written for young adults since Lewis Carroll unleashed his fantasies on poor little Alice. Yet what else could you hope to expect from the author of Pontypool Changes Everything, the definitive Canadian zombie novel (and one freaky great film to boot). Idaho Winter is a mindf#@k of astonishing proportions, an excursion into a world where the rules simply don't apply. I thought I detected a theme of writers block at one point, as the unnamed narrator bemoans the fact that he doesn't have a clue where his character has gone or what he'll do (a sensation I'm sure all authors can relate to). There are breaths of Luigi Pirandello's absurdist masterpiece Six Characters in Search of an Author throughout Burgess' imaginative weirdscape, breaths that intermingle with the surrealism of Luis Buñuel, the paranoia of Franz Kafka and David Lynch, and the dream imagery of Salvador Dali. Idaho Winter is spectacularly peculiar, demanding, funny, gross, and unforgettable. If young adults are looking for tales of Twilight-like romance, stay far away; if they are yearning for real risk and reward in their literature, this should be just the ticket.

Tiny Monkey Loves

Tiny Monkey droppings - The Cut by George Pelecanos

The Cut (Reagan Arthur Books, 2011)

by George Pelecanos

Description (from the publisher)

Meet Spero Lucas—the newest literary hero from George Pelecanos, New York Times bestselling author and writer for The Wire.

Spero Lucas has a new line of work. Since he returned home after serving in Iraq, he has been doing special investigations for a defense attorney. He’s good at it, and he has carved out a niche: recovering stolen property, no questions asked. His cut is forty percent.

A high-profile crime boss who has heard of Lucas’s specialty hires him to find out who has been stealing from his operation. It’s the biggest job Lucas has ever been offered, and he quickly gets a sense of what’s going on. But before he can close in on what’s been taken, he tangles with a world of men whose amorality and violence leave him reeling. Is any cut worth your family, your lover, your life?

Lucas Spero is George Pelecanos’s greatest creation, a young man making his place in the world one battle and one mission at a time. The first in a new series of thrillers featuring Spero Lucas, The Cut is new confirmation of why George Pelecanos is “perhaps America’s greatest living crime writer.” (Stephen King).

What the Tiny Monkey Thinks

If there is a class to be taught on how to write simply, succinctly, and yet achieve an impact like a punch to the gut, George Pelecanos is the teacher (or at least co-teacher with Elmore Leonard and Walter Mosley). The Cut has nary one wasted word, not one superfluous scene, not fat to trim, yet it brims with astonishingly precise characterizations, brings Washington D.C. to life like few others have achieved, and is a mother of a mover to boot. I've only partaken of a few of Pelecanos' many works (and have not yet seen any of his television series The Wire, which everyone in the universe tells me is the best thing ever created in the history of everything by anybody), but there's no denying he's among the best of his breed. The Cut, however, seems a little light when compared to some of his previous efforts such as Hard Revolution; it's compulsively readable, but it doesn't linger in the soul the way his best do. Yet it's a spiffy crime thriller with a great lead in Lucas, an inventive investigator who knows his way around the streets. Lucas is flawed, magnetic, and deeply human, with echoes of Mosley's Easy Rawlins. The Cut may not be Pelecanos' best, but it's a tight, tough, and brutal novel that doubtless will be a series to be savoured.

Tiny Monkey Greatly Enjoys the Ride

Tiny Monkey droppings - The Bookman by Lavie Tidhar

The Bookman (Angry Robot, 2010)

by Lavie Tidhar

Description (from the publisher)

When his beloved is killed in a terrorist atrocity committed by the sinister Bookman, young poet Orphan becomes enmeshed in a web of secrets and lies. His quest to uncover the truth takes him from the hidden catacombs of a London on the brink of revolution, through pirate-infested seas, to the mysterious island that may hold the secret to the origin, not only of the shadowy Bookman, but of Orphan himself…

What the Tiny Monkey Thinks

This is a type of book I'm beginning to refer to as a Dog's Breakfast Novel; it's messy, there's a little bit of everything, and hopefully it's palatable to the tongue and not simply snouts and entrails. What I mean is, the author seemingly throws everything into the mix, and in order for it to work, it better have verve, style, and entertainment value galore, or it's going to be really sticky (Gord Zajac's recent Major Karnage is another such example). Luckily, Lavie Tidhar (of the gloriously weird Tel Aviv Dossier) has style to spare, and his steampunk adventure novel echoes Verne and Wells while reviving the go-for-broke cliffhanger style of classic pulp fiction. Tidhar's narrative — set in an alternative history Victorian England where automatons converse with humans, martian probes are being launched into space, and intelligent lizards rule the land —is a hodge-podge of indelibly cool ideas and gee-whiz enthusiasm, wrapped in loving affection for the genre and its progenitors. Tidhar has great fun mixing historical personalities such as Karl Marx and Jules Verne with fictional heroes of the time, and the pages are rife with in-jokes for the literary crowd. I cannot say as I fully understood the complexities of the plot (it gets sensationally strange at times), but as Orphan's adventures unraveled, taking him from the slums of London to the high seas to the shore of mysterious islands, I found I didn't care one whit. I'll be looking up The Bookman's sequel Camera Obscura as soon as I can.

Tiny Monkey Greatly Enjoys the Ride

Tiny Monkey - The Canterbury Trail by Angie Adbou

The Canterbury Trail

(Brindle & Glass, 2011)
by Angie Abdou

Description (from the publisher website):

It’s the last ski weekend of the season and a mishmash of snow-enthusiasts is on its way to a remote backwoods cabin. In an odd pilgrimage through the mountains, the townsfolk of Coalton—from the ski bum to the urbanite—embark on a bizarre adventure that walks the line between comedy and tragedy. As the rednecks mount their sleds and the hippies snowshoe through the cedar forest, we see rivals converge for the weekend. While readers follow the characters on their voyage up and over the mountain, stereotypes of ski-town culture fall away. Loco, the ski bum, is about to start his first real job; Alison, the urbanite, is forced to learn how to wield an avalanche shovel; and Michael, the real estate developer, is high on mushroom tea.

In a blend of mordant humour and heartbreak, Angie Abdou chronicles a day in the life of these industrious few as they attempt to conquer the mountain. In an avalanche of action, Angie Abdou explores the way in which people treat their fellow citizens and the landscape they love.

What the Tiny Monkey thinks: 

I am sadly not familiar with Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, so I cannot comment on Angie Abdou's adherence or deviations to the original plot. What I can say is that Abdou is a first-class writer who captures the fluidity and exertions of the human body like few others. While her debut novel The Bone Cage was far more centered around a sports theme, Trail shows that Abdou really knows her stuff when it comes to the white powder and those who live to frolic in it. Abdou understands that sex, drugs, and alcohol are key components of the lifestyle, but she never lets the stereotypes become, well, stereotypical. These ski bums, mountain men, snow bunnies, and extreme snowboarders may be the equivalent of Canadian archetypes, but Adbou cannily subverts our expectations at every turn, finding unexpected pockets of humanity beneath the layers of Gore-Tex. This is not an A-to-Z type of plot; it meanders down back roads and hidden paths, and not every trek is a winner. But the whole is definitely greater than the sum, and for those with a taste for the offbeat and a fearlessness when it comes to a challenge, The Canterbury Trail offers up a plethora of pleasures.

Tiny Monkey Really Likes

Tiny Monkey - Annabel, by Kathleen Winter

It's time for a new style of review, methinks. I am far behind in my postings of late, and a lesser monkey would likely give up.

A bigger monkey would post every day. A silverback gorilla, say.

But I, a lowly chimp stuck in the middle, can only do so much.

And so, I present my newest review format, the Tiny Monkey (who doesn't love tiny monkeys?)! A quick rundown of a novel that allows you access to my innermost thoughts, yet dispenses with the long-winded criticism and obscure asides that are my hallmark!

Yes, I'm lazy, but to catch up, this is what I'm doing. I will not be completely abandoning in-depth critical snarkiness, mind you, just forgoing it for the time being.

And so, the inaugural entry of Tiny Monkey:

Annabel (Anansi, 2010)
by Kathleen Winter

Plot (from the publisher website):

In 1968, into the beautiful, spare environment of remote coastal Labrador, a mysterious child is born: a baby who appears to be neither fully boy nor girl, but both at once. Only three people are privy to the secret -- the baby's parents, Jacinta and Treadway, and a trusted neighbour, Thomasina. Together the adults make a difficult decision: to raise the child as a boy named Wayne. But as Wayne grows to adulthood within the hyper-masculine hunting culture of his father, his shadow-self -- a girl he thinks of as Annabel -- is never entirely extinguished, and indeed is secretly nurtured by the women in his life.

Haunting, sweeping in scope, and stylistically reminiscent of Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex, Annabel is a compelling debut novel about one person's struggle to discover the truth in a culture that shuns contradiction.

What the Tiny Monkey thinks: 

Captured within the pages of Annabel is some of the most exquistely exacting prose I've come across. There are sentences that take my breath away, and I have rarely if ever witnessed an author so accurately capture the dynamics of family relationships. Winter's reproduction of Jacinta's and Treadway's marriage is breathtaking, and the undercurrent of confusion that paints Wayne's relationship with his father is heartbreaking. The ending is somewhat of a letdown, being more traditional and unsurprising than what has happened before, and I'm not entirely convinced of Treadway's ultimate circumstance being organic to the story. But Wayne's unique bildungsroman is a treasure, and when Annabel flies, it soars. Kathleen Winter has penned a jewel, and joins her brother Michael (go read The Big Why right now) into the ranks of Canada's next generation of great authors.

Tiny Monkey Really Likes