Hyperbole: I Know About That

By Barrister Wells

Jonathan Safran Foer’s second journey into the world of literature drops the reader into the life of Oskar Schnell, a precocious nine-year old that possesses above average intelligence and a seemingly endless line of questions. Dealing with the pain of losing his father in the attacks of September 11, Oskar embarks on a journey through New York City to solve the final puzzle left to him by his father – a key, in an envelope, in a vase, in a closet. Intrigued? Read on.

Seriously though, I’m not going to bore you with the details of the story. I enjoyed the book and highly recommend you read it. In all honesty, this book was well received by the GBCoA and for the most part negative comments were kept to a minimum. After all, it got the bad taste of Lullaby out of our mouths. But, in the spirit of the holiday season, I’d like to share with you one of my favorite Festivus traditions, you guessed it – the airing of grievances:

1. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Oskar. He was an extremely good protagonist whose plight is incredibly identifiable to those grieving the loss of a loved one. That being said, his shenanigans were extremely hard to stomach at times. I can count at least five times that I wanted to punch him square in the mouth*. I mean, talk about an incredibly trusting youth willing to jump into the nearest van that promises candy and puppies. Oskar wanders about New York City, often unaccompanied, venturing into strangers' houses, handing out his apartment key and sharing details of his life that would have any pedophile twirling their mustache with anticipation. Which brings me to my next point;
2. Where the hell was his mom? It’s infuriating how a small child can be allowed to be-bop through Brooklyn, the Bronx and Central Park, at night no less, with no sign of worry from his extremely distant mother. Well, come to find out, his mom knew what he was up to the entire time. She wasn’t an absentee mom, she was just an incredibly horrible one.
3. Nowhere Zones: Don’t even get me started on these. If you ever want to intentionally piss me off, just mention nowhere zones in my vicinity. I’ll come at you like a tornado of teeth and fingernails.
4. Spoiler Alert: I don’t mean to tell any tales out of school here, but Oskar’s grandfather really chapped my ass. I mean, say a goddamn word for crying-out-loud. Yeah, I know, the horrors of war, tragic love-loss, blah, blah, blah. You know who else experienced the horrors of war and tragic love-loss? Everybody else from your generation! Get on with your life and grow a pair. You’re acting extremely childish and incredibly selfish.
5. The pictures. Actually I liked the pictures. I have no problem with the pictures. They made me feel like I was reading an extreme amount of pages at an incredible rate. Pictures are good. Other authors should steal a page or two from Foer’s playbook.

Now that that’s out of my system, I have to say Foer’s follow-up to Everything is Illuminated is an extremely interesting read and at times incredibly poignant. The unique style of Foer’s writing (although not all GBCoA members would agree) was very much appreciated and welcomed. In conclusion, if you only read one book in 2009 chronicling a nine-year old boy dealing with the loss of his father in the September 11 attacks, make it this one.

*Note: The Gentlemen’s Bookreader’s Club of America in no way endorses or supports the use of physical violence against children. But seriously, someone needed to smack a little sense into that kid.

Overall rating: 1.25 Beaver Pelt Hats

Barrister Lichtenauer: +1
Barrister Russell: -2
Barrister Shaw: +2
Barrister Wells: +4

Meeting Place: In honor of Oskar's search for the lock that fit his key, we had planned to meet at the Keyhole Tavern, however, inclimate weather forced us to change plans and meet at a bar that was both extremely loud and incredibly close - McFadden's.

Next Up: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

An Open Letter to Chuck Palahniuk - or - How Lullaby Made Me Want to Put Myself To Sleep

By Barrister Lichtenauer

We get it. You’re subversive. We get it. You hate people and society. We get it. You like to imagine different and creative ways to undermine pop culture. We. Get. It.

Can we move on? Please? It’s the same in all your books. Listen, I realize that I’m probably being too hard on you. But here’s the thing, I was the one who recommended this book for the book club and you made me look like an asshole.

It started off really well:

• Cool style
• Unique subject matter
• Great foreshadowing

Then it fell off a cliff. I had to look my fellow bookreaders in the eye and tell them, “No, I didn’t know it was about magic and spells” and “Yes, I hated all the characters too.”

Seriously man. We all actually had a debate about if were you trying too hard or if you had just given up. I said you were trying too hard. I figured that you had exhausted your whole society-hating routine and were grasping at straws so you pulled out magic. MAGIC. However, we came to the consensus that you, in fact, could have cared less about this book. Your publisher probably signed you for like 6 books and this was number 5. Just struggling to get through the contract.

For those of you who haven’t had a chance to regret reading this book, it’s about some stupid poem that kills people. Some stupid journalist gets hold of it and kills a bunch of people. He meets up with a stupid real estate broker and her gross assistant and they try to destroy it all. They also find some other book full of stupid magic spells that let them do things like have middle-age sex floating in a ballroom. Unfortunately, it was a lot more detailed than that – but I didn’t really leave anything out. Oh! Except that the hero of the story accidentally has sex with his dead wife… talk about a cold fish! Hahaha! Get it? That was terrible and I apologize.

Overall, The Gentlemen Bookreader’s Club of America felt that the book was an easy read. Engaging. Flowing. Interesting. It’s just the subject matter that really disappointed everyone. The character’s were universally annoying. The book involved a few twists but they weren’t surprising or gut-wrenching or emotion-evoking at all. Thanks but no thanks Mr. Palahniuk.

Shout out to Barrister Russell for his headline suggestion of "Palahniuk Introduces New Suicide Method for Readers". Nice try.

Overall rating: .625 Clubbed Baby Seals

Barrister Lichtenauer: -1
Barrister Russell: +.5
Barrister Shaw: -1
Barrister Wells: -1

Meeting Place: This book was about contradictions between nature and man. How man moved west and tried to improve upon nature but ended up irreparably harming it. That's why we chose Ted's Montana Grill in the Power & Light District. A place that that claims to be eco-friendly but serves huge helpings of American Bison. You know, because there's a ton of those around nowadays.

Next Up: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

Don't Tell A Childhood Memory Around Beah. He'll One-Up You.

By Barrister Russell

**Before we begin, let me say that the GBCOA is composed solely of White Anglo-Saxon Protestants - meaning we have no perspective with which to relate to the civil unrest, poverty or war-derived savagery that takes place in both the setting of this book and the many second and third world countries around ours. For this I am thankful. But for you readers, I apologize, because I am forced to believe everything I read and sympathize greatly with the characters and their respective dispositions. A memoir does not afford us the luxury of skepticism, for that would make us racist, bigoted and another word that has similar connotations. With that said, here is our incredibly distant and biased review of A Long Way Gone, for what it's worth.

Here's what you need to know:

• Sierra Leone has been at war with itself for centuries
• Sierra Leone is still at war with itself

As told from the eyes of a precocious 12-year old boy, A Long Way Gone tells the story of a people in constant conflict with their brothers and sisters. The story of a country so far gone that its very future is being handed AK-47's at the age when they should be reciting multiplication tables. The story of a world where culture, family and bloodshed are indistinguishable from each other - all painted in different shades of gray.

Beah assumes that the reader is aware that there is an ongoing conflict in his homeland when he tells his story, but doesn't make that knowledge a prerequisite. The memoir is captivating enough to entertain even the most ignorant of readers. But if that previous statement hit home with any of you, then we're also making the assumption (a safe one at that) that you had a hard time following the nuance of Beah's language and diction. Few writers working today have the command Beah does over the English language, let alone foreign writers. But to be able to describe a setting or situation worthy of ten pages with the brevity and precision of two, the GBCOA has to remove their respective hats in recognition of a job well done. In fact, it's this very ability that allowed Beah to successfully walk the line of leaving the reader wanting more and drumming up sympathy for his cause - a task few penners have been able to master (see David Carr of Night of the Gun)

A Long Way Gone begins during a quieter period of Sierra Leone's history, when we first meet our 12-year old narrator. We learn of his family, his village, and his daily chores and activities. The background seems to go on a little too long, and at points, it gets overwhelming, especially when we learn about 86 very non-White Anglo-Saxon Protestant names at once. But all in all, the setup is justified. Mostly because there has to be some good to offset all the bad, especially in the selective memory of a present-day Beah. We then learn about the rebel uprising and the establishment of the RUF order in Sierra Leone, followed immediately by the subsequent oppression of anyone who isn't RUF. Beah floats throughout his country, from village to village for several chapters, narrowly escaping capture, torture and death before finally falling into the child army opposite the RUF. It's here that we are thrust into a harsh reality - a reality where children soldiers are more threatening than adult soldiers. Where the scariest thing is an army with no autonomy. Children who are simply following one order - kill anyone who doesn't look like you. Between the constant use of cocaine and brown brown, the lack of sleep altogether and the continual barrage of mass murders, it's a wonder Beah was able to make it through to the point where he is freed from the war and sent to rehab. It's here that we learn that possibly the only thing more eerie than a child solider is a recovering child soldier - a soul so gone that it will kill just to feel normal again.

The GBCOA won't get into the details of Beah's recovery, because it's clear he gets rehabilitated, but it will point to one conclusion after finishing the book: we wanted more bloodshed. Most of the book was spent leading up the the times when Beah was a child solider (even the cover suggests it), but once we got there, we only got a few chapters of drug use, killing and human savagery. Does this make us disgusting, awful beings? Maybe. But I'd also point a finger at those of you who have made Saw one of the highest grossing franchises in movie history.

The point here is this: As a whole, we as a people crave suspensions of disbelief. That's why we fork over 10 bucks to see Jigsaw's latest victim, why Stephanie Meyer is worth more money than we'll ever see and why video games exist altogether. We like operating in realities that aren't our own. So inherently, we want Beah to indulge us further. We want more blood and guts. It's what we crave. We're humans. But let's remember, this story is his reality. There is no suspension of disbelief for him. And he's a human too.

So are we being apologetic for Beah's omissions? Maybe. After all, it was his choice to release a memoir about his life. No one was holding a gun to his head. Either way, the GBCOA enjoyed reading what Beah was willing to let us in on - especially the parts where people were holding a gun to his head.

Overall rating: 2.5 Beaver Pelt Hats

Barrister Lichtenauer: +1
Barrister Russell: +2.5
Barrister Shaw: +3.5
Barrister Wells: +3

Meeting Place: Chicago is to hot dog as New York is to _______. In search of a hot, greasy slice, we chose D'Bronx - all in honor of Beah's trip to New York at the end of the novel.

Next Up: Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk

The Boy Detective Gets A Passing Grade

By Barrister Shaw

Sit right down, dear reader, and hear a tale of the ever-vigilant boy detective Billy Argo, a genius in the model of the Hardy Boys and Encyclopedia Brown who, in the course of his young career, foiled many a fiend with the help of his sister Caroline and childhood friend Fenton. Of course, this tale picks up 20-something years later where Billy has been living in a mental hospital ever since his own attempted suicide following Caroline’s own successful self-destruction.

Billy rides the bus, goes to work at a wig and artificial facial hair phone sales company, hangs out with the neighborhood outcast siblings, and evades several attempts on his life by his former adversaries. As for the outcasts, the brother never speaks and demolishes the other classmates at school. And the sister is hated by her peers for her awkwardness. They find a friend in Billy, who seems to understand and accept them, helping them solve the mystery of where their pet rabbit’s head went and quietly monitoring their rocketry experiments. He also goes to great lengths to find and connect with a pink-clad kleptomaniac he spots one day on the bus.

One thing you can say about this book – it’s unique. Meno clearly has great affection and sympathy for misfits and outcasts, and he brings these characters to life in this book. The Gentlemen convened to discuss the book and found our group divided. On one hand, you have a well written, often moving story with moments of almost poetic observation. On the other, you have increasingly absurd villains appearing out of nowhere, random passages and characters who appear to be weird for the sake of being weird. As Scott said, “It was like Mitch Hedberg’s description of pancakes, ‘exciting when you start out, but by the end you’re sick of it.’”

Parts of this book can wear on you – especially if you’re going to sit and wonder how buildings get disintegrated with nobody noticing, or why even a mad professor would spend his entire life ineffectually menacing someone whose mental condition is already clearly in distress. If that’s the case, this book probably isn’t for you. All of this might make sense if, as Zach suspected, Billy is autistic. The more we discussed, the more likely that seemed to be the case. If so, props to Meno for presuming the intelligence of his audience and not spelling it out or making a big deal how much of a genius he is. It’s writing that respects and challenges the reader. And if there’s anything the GBCoA appreciates, it’s being mentally challenged.

Overall Rating: 1.875 Beaver Pelt Hats

Barrister Lichtenauer: 0 (the first ever Whale Oil Lamp)
Barrister Russell: 0 (the second ever Whale Oil Lamp)
Barrister Shaw: +3.5
Barrister Wells: +4.0

Meeting Place: The Gentlemen payed homage to the heyday of the Hardy Boys and Encyclopedia Brown by investigating the mystery of the disappearing drinks at The Foundry, known for its late 70's - early 80's themed fare.

Next Up: A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah

Night of the Gun?

By Barrister Wells

Tensions ran high as the Gentlemen’s Book Club of America convened for their fourth meeting at the Newsroom, quite possibly Kansas City’s filthiest and most depraved tavern. As the transients and low-life regulars swilled their cocktails dwelling on life’s hardships, it was easy to imagine a young David Carr perched next to them on a stool contemplating his next fix.

Carr’s debut book, The Night of the Gun, explored the topics of addiction and redemption, a genre recently made popular by James Frey and most notably, Oprah. Carr’s approach was to use journalistic practices to uncover what he deemed a turning a point in his life - the night he showed up to friend’s house with a loaded gun. Or did his friend pull the gun on him? Or was there even a gun? Unfortunately for the reader, this issue is never resolved. And the topic is broached only momentarily in the first two chapters of the book, leaving the reader to conclude that the book is not aptly named.

Carr’s background in journalism quickly became evident as his staccato-style prose and research techniques filled nearly 400 pages. Carr’s journey into the depths of drug abuse began in earnest with some mild drug exploration in high school, followed by a transition to cocaine in college and finally to all-out intravenous drug use that eroded his promising career and ruined a myriad of relationships.

The book follows Carr through a series of seemingly unrelated anecdotes as he recounts his past through interviews, medical records, police reports and an admittedly spotty memory. Tales are often embellished, only to be corrected by former associates, family members, cronies and law enforcement. Below is a brief summary of EVERYTHING that happened in the book:

• Shows up to a friend’s house, possibly with a gun
• Gets fired from several menial jobs and devotes himself to day-drinking and snorting blow
• Beats the shit out of a cab driver
• Deals blow to support his habit
• Smokes crack with Tom Arnold and possibly The Hold Steady
• His then-girlfriend gives birth to twins hours after he smokes crack with her
• Gets clean and raises the twins as a single father
• Diagnosed with cancer, pulls through
• Marries some chick
• Relapses and alienates his children
• Gets clean again and meets Barbara Bush for some reason
• Writes a book and makes a lot of money

Carr’s narcissism was off-putting at times, but it became apparent that these traits, considered to be faults by many, are quite possibly the only reason he was able to pull himself out of the underworld of addiction and into the news room of one the most distinguished and respected periodicals in the world, The New York Times.

While Gun did not meet the lofty standards of members from the GBCOA (in some ways comparable to the wretched Phillip Roth novel), David Carr paints a fairly accurate portrait of drug abuse, alcoholism and recovery that is easily relatable to those unfortunate enough to have experienced addiction.

Overall rating: A very generous 1.5 Clubbed Baby Seals

Barrister Lichtenauer: -1.5
Barrister Russell: -3
Barrister Shaw: -3
Barrister Wells: +1.5

Meeting Place: In honor of David Carr's career as a journalist and his penchant for hanging out with scum bags, we chose The Newsroom. Disgusting.

Next up: The Boy Detective Fails by Joe Meno

I Can’t Believe Mine Eyes. Blindness.

By Barrister Lichtenauer

So, apparently going blind out of nowhere is a pretty big deal.

When a mysterious outbreak of the “white sickness” (named because, unlike natural blindness which is black, this blindness gives you the appearance of being immersed in milky water) sweeps through an unknown country, we are the only one’s who get to witness the horrific mess - well, us and the doctor's wife.

The infected are quarantined in an abandoned mental hospital and left to their own blind devices. They must fight for food, decency and a means to preserve a “human” way of living. Luckily, interned with them is the doctor's wife, the only person who seems to be immune to the epidemic. While there, she subtly guides and cares for the afflicted.

Ok. Now that the synopsis is covered, lets get down to business.

Here are a few things the book teaches us about blind people - please note, the views expressed by Jose Saramago do not represent the views of the members of the The Gentlemen Bookreader's Club of America, seriously:

• Apparently blindness must affect the olfactory sense as well. In this book, the blind people quickly develop their own makeshift bathroom system. It’s as if they all, at once, thought: “Hell, I can’t see, I might as well take a huge dump right here in this hallway… I think it’s a hallway, I can’t see a damn thing. Anywho. Bombs away. I hope I don’t step in it later. Because, if you’ll remember, I’m blind”
• Blind people love to pump. See, for me, being in a disgusting place surrounded by disease and all sorts of butt, well, it’s a bit of a turn off. But not for these blind people. These blind people love getting after it with each other. Regardless. What are they going to tell their kids? You know, the kids that were accidentally conceived while humping on a pile of garbage.
  
• Blind people ruin everything. Listen. They had plenty of room. Running water. Working toilets. Did they take advantage of it? No. They caught the thing on fire - after, of course, turning it into a veritable landfill.
• Blind people are stupid. They get shot, trampled, suffocated. I’m sure this is some kind of allegory, but seriously, slow down. Think about it. Then act. Count to 10 if you have to.
• Dogs hate dead blind people. Why else would they constantly be eating them? Man’s best friend? Nope. In the land of the blind, a mangy dog is king.

Blind people aside, this book was a good read. The experience was heightened by author Jose Saramago’s writing style - long sentences peppered with commas and a complete lack of character names (what use do blind people have for names?). This claustrophobic style created a real sense of the chaos felt by the blind people in the unknown city.

The Gentlemen Bookreader's Club of America (GBCoA) enjoyed reading Blindness, it was unanimously agreed to have significant worth as a piece of literature. However, some were turned off by the rambling, philosophical asides from Saramago as well as the repetitive nature of the book. A lot of talk about being hungry, defecating and being a stupid blind person. It was at this point that the GBCoA decided to adjourn the meeting early and take in the movie version of Blindness (two reviews in one).

The movie stars Danny Glover as an old blind man. It’s terrible. If I hadn't read the book and developed a reasonable time frame to expect the ending, I probably would have walked out. It followed pretty closely to the book, right down to the “Dog of Tears.” Some stupid dog that licks tears. Yep. The movie was too artsy and probably stuck too close to the book for its own good. You can't really get into a person's thoughts by watching them trip over a sink.

Below is the trailer:



Overall rating: 2.31 Beaver Pelt Hats

Meeting Place: Hint #1 - Blindness is also called the "white sickness". Hint #2 - The French translation of white is Blanc. If you can't put the pieces together, stop reading immediately. The rest of this blog will be over your head. Trust us.

Next Up: The Night of the Gun by David Carr

French Leaves Her Readers Lost In the Woods

By Barrister Russell

After suffering through Philip Roth's excruciating account of his own childhood in a world dominated by the most boring brand of Nazism I've ever read, (I didn't think it was possible to make Hitler vanilla, but alas, Roth came through) we were all hoping the next selection would be better. Hard to imagine anything not being better, unless it was written by Merriam or Webster.

Luckily for us, Tana French and her not-so-charming boyish bangs came through. She was able to write a novel that kept all of us turning the pages and burning the midnight oil to see what was going to happen next. But most of the time, what happened next was the narrator, Rob Ryan, failing miserably as a detective and losing his nerve at the most inopportune times. The story followed Ryan as he investigated a murder in his childhood hometown - the same place that he was involved in a disappearing act as a child 20 years earlier. That's right. Ryan had his own little Amber Alert when he was 12, as his two best friends were abducted and never heard from again. And conveniently for the cops, he didn't remember a single thing from the whole incident. Thus the plot was set - two murders, twenty years apart, same place, same characters. What more could you ask for?

Unfortunately, a lot. As the two stories lace in and out like a pair of worn-out Chuck Taylor's, French properly builds the storyline into something truly epic. The two laces cross over each other time after time, but brilliantly never get in the way. Chapters fly by. Clues mount up. Tension builds. Then, just as the perfect climax is built, French flicks her pen and the shoelace breaks. It happens sometimes. The knot is tied too many times that it eventually wears out from overuse. French had us tied up and twisted and thoroughly engrossed in her simultaneous plots. But in the end, she had simply created something too big and too epic to properly solve or do justice - too many knots to untangle. And what that meant for us was complete and utter disappointment. We were left feeling empty. Lost. Used. With nothing but the stench of a worn out plot in our hands.

It's frustrating to read books like this. So well-written. So well-articulated. Characters unique and memorable. Crime dialogue and jargon impeccable. Pop culture references spot-on and unforced. But sometimes, the ending is the hardest part. Maybe that's why a lot of authors start there. Or why ideas sometimes begin at the end. I don't know. But French clearly didn't either.

One other thing - I really didn't appreciate her version of herself in the story, i.e. Cassie. Talk about waxing poetically about something that will never be aesthetically pleasing in any way. Let me explain. According to French, Cassie was the youngest, most savvy detective on the Murder squad. Cassie was a woman who inexplicably avoided any form of chastising in all her years on the force. Cassie was always right. Cassie made all the breakthroughs in the case. Cassie was continuously described as beautiful in the eyes of the narrator. Cassie overcame all the odds and challenges that faced her. Cassie got married. Cassie lived happily ever after. Oh, and in reality, Cassie had a man's haircut, was admittedly pudgy, worked in a man's field and couldn't get a confession out of a suspect if she had a signed presidential pardon in her hands. And Rob, the male narrator, well his life fell apart because he couldn't handle anything. His reactions to certain breakthroughs in the case were, excuse me if I sound sexist, what the reader would expect from a female character. But all those points were cleverly and conveniently glossed over by French. Well done, sweetheart. You managed to turn a psychological crime thriller into a feminist soap box. Or at least, it seemed that way to me. And if you asked Rob, I'm sure he'd agree.

Was it better than Roth? Oh yeah. Was it a page turner? Absolutely. Was it a good book? Yes and no. It was a flawed book with glaring omissions and shortcomings. But, it was a lot of fun and a nice escape. Just gonna need a little more out of the ending next time. The Gentlemen have high standards for their literature.

Overall rating: 2.875 Beaver Pelt Hats

Barrister Lichtenauer: +2
Barrister Russell: +3.5
Barrister Shaw: +3
Barrister Wells: +3

Meeting Place: Irish author. Irish setting. Irish restaurant. Where else in Kansas City but O'Dowd's on the Country Club Plaza? Ok, there are tons of other, probably more Irish places, but we got lazy.

Next Up : Blindness by Jose Saramago

The Plot Against America by Philip Roth - or - How to Ruin a Good Idea for a Book

By Barrister Lichtenauer

The first session of the Gentlemen Bookreader's Club of America recently adjourned and it was unanimous - Philip Roth wrote a terrible book. Aside from the random mentions of masturbation and penis (described as "acorn-like"), it was chock-full of useless details.

A good term to describe this turd of a novel is Literary Masturbation. It seems Roth was in love with the fact that he did so much research, so he made sure to spurt it all over every page. Thanks Philip. Over six pages describing different stamps. Three pages detailing the Jewish social elite in 1940. He even took all the research he didn't use and threw it in the back of the book. Genius. I just read like 350 pages of your garbage, and I don't think I'll be reading your addendum.

Now, on to the plot. This book asked the question, "What would happen if Nazi-sympathizer Charles Lindbergh became president of the United States of America?" The implications and ramifications of such a fundamental shift in American ideology was a worthy subject to write about, which is most of the reason we were all so interested in reading it. The book examined this idea at a micro-level through the eyes of the Roth family. Young Philip (yep, he put himself in the book) watches as his Jewish family comes to term with their new circumstances.

Pretty provocative, huh? And the verdict? Roth managed to take all of the potential described above and wield an impossibly slow read. Boring. Tedious. Terrible. Written like an English textbook. And it's full of weird asides that never really amount to anything. For instance, the Philip character is a wimpy creep - plain and simple. He had a "game" that consisted of getting on buses and following gentiles home, or wherever they may be going. There was a whole chapter dedicated to this game. An entire chapter. And chapters were like 50 pages long. An entire chapter. I guess they call it character development, but this book would shoot for epic then go back and spend time with this minutiae. And if that "game" wasn't creepy enough, Philip also liked to steal clothes from the school nerd who lived below him. Yep. He didn't have any friends, his Dad just died and then comes Philip, stealing his clothes and getting him in trouble. Even worse, Philip literally ruins this kid's life later in the book. It's incredible. Made no sense. Completely illogical.

So. This book was horrible. Don't read it. The Gentlemen Bookreader's Club of America does not approve. Oh, and if any of you thought that Philip's "game" sounded like fun, then you're cordially invited by the The Gentlemen Bookreader's Club of America to never read our blog again.

Overall rating: 3.75 Clubbed Seals (that's bad)

Meeting Place: Dark Horse Tavern was chosen to highlight the dark horse candidacy of Charles Lindburgh from the story. It's also important to note that frequenting the Dark Horse Tavern is a somber, miserable experience - the parallels were too obvious to ignore.

Next Up: In The Woods by Tana French