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Speed Reader
By Gaylon Parsons, Dorothy Cole, Brendan Doherty, Jennifer Scharn.
OCTOBER 12, 1998:
The Way to Bright Star
by Dee Brown
(Forge, cloth, $24.95)
Historians can become too enamored of factual accuracy and historical
precision to write compelling fiction, or so goes a Hollywood
version of the truth. Dee Brown's latest fiction proves the assumption
wrong. He has written numerous volumes on the USA-izing of the
West, both fiction and non-, and his latest foray into the fabricated
will
satisfy the most devilish of detail hunters. Brown's fine brush
and subtle wit serve his tale of a grand camel adventure well.
Two young people travel in the border and Midwestern states during
the Civil War, encountering not only chaos but also the whole
gaudy panorama of American life: cartoony villains, soldiers and
sheriffs, snooty officers, rebel bandits, erudite peddlers and
French painters. The frame is an enchanting story in which an
aged Ben reflects on his life in the circus and discovers long-held
secrets regarding his first true love. Brown keeps it sharp and
authentic, allowing his considerable knowledge to make this sweet,
old-fashioned treat less sugary than it might have been. (GMP)
Reservation Road
by John Burnham Schwartz
(Knopf, cloth, $24)
For readers who like being bored. A 10-year-old boy stands in
the middle of the road at night and gets hit by a speeding car.
He dies. The
driver of the car feels guilty and tries not to get caught. The
kid's parents feel guilty and obsess about the emptiness of their
lives. Here's the problem: The only likable or mildly interesting
characters are the driver and his own son. Their part of the story
includes some realism and off-beat details. But that's all there
is. His ex-wife is vindictive and unpleasant; the victim's parents
are smug and self-absorbed. The kid who gets hit doesn't exist
at all, beyond supposedly being some sort of musical prodigy.
Since we never get to know him alive, it's hard to care that he's
dead. His parents are the type who are shocked to discover they're
not perfect. Something happens in the last 30 pages. By then it's
too late. (DC)
Bunny Modern
by David Bowman (Little Brown, cloth, $21.95)
Bowman wrote a take on the great American road novel with Let
the Dog Drive, a hilariously rambling and gripping story.
In the intervening years, he has contributed to Salon online
magazine and The New York Times Book Review. His follow-up,
Bunny Modern, is a hard-boiled comedy about love, abduction
and child care in a future where electricity has disappeared and
fertility is on the wane, but human passions are as messy as ever.
Claire, a nanny, packs a Glock pistol and guards babies from childless
kidnappers. She has undergone the standard aversion therapy to
keep her from bonding with the infants she protects. Claire, despite
her training, falls prey to the drooly charms and big wet eyes
of her care, particularly a child named Soda. Narrated by Dylan,
an investigator hired to follow Claire by Soda's parents, he joins
her in a series of adventures to fertility monuments. Bowman's
hallucinogenic flourishes mark the book, as does his well developed
narrative and a sweet penchant for wicked humor. (BCD)
Watermelon Nights
by Greg Sarris (Hyperion, paper, $24.95)
It is apparent that Greg Sarris is intimately acquainted with
life on the rez. With brutal honesty, from grammatically incorrect
speech to dusty porches to families living in poverty, Sarris
captures that which is real for all too many Native Americans.
Every page smacks with realism, leaving the reader thinking about
his words long after the book is shut. There seems to be no stronger
culture that honors its ancestors and bloodline with such incredible
intensity. All of the characters, whether anti-white, -Indian
or
-government, cannot deny or escape the ties that bind them. Leaving
home is difficult in itself, but for the young main character
Johnny Severe, it also means turning his back on his tribe altogether.
His story is told not only from Johnny's tortured point of view,
but also through his mother's and grandmother's eyes, forming
cross-
generational perspectives spanning years of heartache, choices
and forgiveness. (JLXS)

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