52 Weeks, 52 Books
Week 4: I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell
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Okay, I will admit it: I was wrong. That is not something you will hear me say often, primarily because the occasion is so rare (he says, modestly). But seriously, despite a rapid-fire set of three separate recommendations for Tucker Max’s I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell, I took one look at the cover and said, “Get real!” No way was I going to invest my time to read the exploits of some collar-popping douchebag (and his friends) who probably wrote the manuscript in crayon. Oh but wait, Mr. Max not only takes great pleasure in berating the collar-popping brethren found trolling around local night clubs and bars, he also has a B.A. from the University of Chicago and a law degree from Duke University giving him the wherewithal to construct a splendidly written account of his most hilarious adventures.
My reluctance to read Hell was quelled after reading one chapter in Borders that had me laughing out loud no less than three times. Giving a shot in the store to begin with goes along with another semi-resolution I have enacted for 2007. Generally, I have been known to follow pre-judgments of media I think will be absolutely awful without giving it a chance. I hated Family Guy when it first came out, now it is one of my favorite shows. There are a few other scattered instances where I ended up enjoying something I was certain I would hate. There would probably be several more if I loosened the purse strings a little bit more and tried some things out. I decided to at least give Hell a quick look and I was instantly hooked.
So enamored with the tales of debauchery written so sharply by Mr. Max that I finished the book the same day I bought it. During halftime of the NFC Championship game, I went out to the store and picked it up along with a few others. I read a few pages during halftime of the AFC Championship game a few hours later and once Indianapolis closed out New England to punch their ticket to the Super Bowl; I turned off the television and got to work. Next thing I knew, I was reading page 277 and recalling times that I was “Tucker Max Drunk.” Though I give the book a ringing endorsement, it most certainly is not for everyone. The men are pigs, the women are treated poorly and the morals are remarkably low. That said, the writing is well crafted, the stories are perfectly retold and the humor is in abundance. The group’s sardonic wit is peppered amongst the stories, but the bulk of the laughs come from a bevy of sophomoric toilet humor.
Soon after graduation from Duke, Max knew that law was not something he wanted to put much time or effort into. Through his website (TuckerMax.com) and this book, Max has realized that writing is his arena and his shift to a full-time writer bears that realization out. In the end, Max freely admits that he is an asshole (his words, not mine) with a drinking problem, but he knows that while plenty would love to live his life, most are content just reading about it.
Week 3: The Last Best League
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For me, when the topic is baseball, it is damn near impossible to disappoint. Even if I am discussing the hated New York Yankees, I am much happier than I would be discussing even my favorite of basketball teams (Detroit Pistons and Texas Longhorns). Jim Collins’ recounting of the 2002 Cape Cod League through the view of the Chatham A’s never even broke a sweat in the disappointment arena. The Cape is where the best collegiate baseball players are invited to showcase their skills in a 44-game short season on the Massachusetts coast during the dog days of summer. Around since the 19th century, the league was the setting for 2001’s Summer Catch starring Jessica Biel and only recently evolved into the premier showcase league that draws not only the best talent, but also the most important scouts from all thirty big-league teams.
The common baseball fan will marvel at the alumni of the Cape Cod League that includes Jeff Bagwell, Jason Bay, Albert Belle, Craig Biggio, Nomar Garciaparra, Todd Helton, Mark Teixeira and Frank Thomas. I was happy to see that one of my favorite players, Darin Erstad, played on the Cape for the Falmouth Commodores. While the players are assigned to teams, the league is like no other in that they are truly playing for themselves. The hitters get their first experience and widespread exposure with a wooden bat, which can dramatically change their approach. For some, that means their game devolves into a home run derby that can lead them to press at the first sign of failure and eventually end as an incredible embarrassment marred with strikeouts. For others, their game raises to another level that benefits both themselves and the team. Being invited to the Cape not only means that you are among the best of the best in college baseball, but also that you now have a hand in your stock for the following June amateur draft. While it is easy to throw out a myriad of excuses for poor play and blame away your problems, the fact is that many top-level scouts are going to make serious judgments from Cape performances never mind the fact that 44 games is an incredibly small sample size.
Collins thoroughly dissects the life of a Caper as the boys are put up with host families that vehemently support the team, given jobs to make ends meet and pretty much left to their own devices in one of the freer environments they will encounter before (if) they hit the majors. To call the jobs fluff is an insult to true fluff jobs like being vice president, but they include stocking the local CVS, delivering seafood for the local market and doling out worms and ice at the local bait shop. Though the Cape is littered with bluebloods and the summer means plenty of vacationing coeds, Collins admirably did not delve too deep into the sexual exploits of the young men. It could have made for some interesting reading, but it would have been painfully out of place in this book. One area that Collins did err was in his thinly veiled allegation that one of the boys, Blake Hanan of Siena, may have done steroids.
There is enough whispering about seemingly everyone these days without someone trying to create a scandal around the taboo topic. Hanan was one of the smallest players in the league and had to work that much harder for everything he got, including his invite to the Cape. At 5’9” and 165 pounds, a day does not go by without Hanan having to hear about his size. To compensate, he became something of a gym rat to make sure that each one of those 165 pounds was as much pure muscle as it could be. Despite clearly pointing out how rigorous his workout regimen is earlier in the chapter, Collins still takes a moment to hint that perhaps he is juicing in order to make up the difference. He couches his speculation around the idea that some of the team’s pitchers were talking about guys that might be on steroids and fingered Hanan, among others.
Even at the time I read it, I did not like the implication because I felt he was trying to make something out of nothing. I liked it even less when I finally put the pieces together and realized that one my good friends probably knew Hanan. My friend Jamie played softball at Siena and I figured she at worst knew of Hanan and then came to find out that they were close friends and he actually introduced her to her current boyfriend. She immediately discarded the notion and told me how the allegation angered both Hanan and his family, though the book was still coffee table material in the household. I know what you are thinking; of course his good friend is going to vouch for him. But you don’t know Jamie. She would be nothing less than straightforward, plus she has no reason to lie to me about the situation. It is not like I would break the story and write Game of Shadows II: Something Other Than Vodka In That Cape Cod?
Nevertheless, that few page portion was Collins’ lone transgression in an otherwise captivating and thorough page-turner. Another triumph was his efficiency, putting together a complete account in an adroit 273 pages.
out of 5
Week 2: Marilyn Monroe
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In Marilyn Monroe, Barbara Leaming offers a darker look at the superstar’s battered 36-year existence. Starting as a neglected child, readers are led through Monroe’s tortured life as she never reaches the level of success and respect she desired. She sabotaged marriages to Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller with intolerably crazy behavior that eventually drove the men away. Despite her countless affairs, it was DiMaggio that loved her most of all, but even he couldn’t save her. A terror to work with, Monroe’s erractic work patterns and inability to memorize more than one line at a time drove her out of the business before her time. Of course, her prescription drug and alcohol addictions eventually drove her out of the world before her time.
For her part, Leaming made getting through the Monroe saga a battle in itself. Relying on three or four crutch phrases to start nearly every sentence, my annoyance with Leaming’s writing often distracted my focus from Monroe’s story. Meanwhile, her insistence on using “upset” as a noun drove me absolutely insane. It’s not an incorrect usage, but it seemed like Leaming was just trying to show readers that she knew “upset” could be used as a noun. She also switched back and forth between referring to people by their first or last name. I realize that might be nitpicking, but it got on my nerves. The book’s subject was eventually enough to keep me, but the book doesn’t need to be 431 pages. There is simply too much information focusing on secondary characters in Monroe’s life. If she wanted to pass the 400-page mark, she should’ve spent much more time on the aftermath surrounding Monroe’s death. We definitely did not need another “JFK had her bumped off” conspiracy theory, but her death brings the book to an abrupt conclusion. Despite Leaming’s look at more interesting figures including Kennedy, Orson Welles and Katherine Hepburn, there is no way I’ll read another book by her. I found her writing amateurish and her dependence on phrases was almost enough to make me switch gears and pick a different book for Week 2 on Thursday.
Overall, I did learn a good bit more about Monroe than I previously knew. She was crazy. It was in her family history and definitely afflicted her throughout her short time on Earth. Though she made something of herself despite a horrible upbringing, she desired something completely different than to be seen as the character she created in early hits like Gentleman Prefer Blondes and Some Like It Hot. Everytime it seemed she fought off her demons, they came roaring back with a vengeance in due time. Ultimately, her paranoia and drug addiction cost her everything she had earned as a worldwide superstar. An entirely sad character overall, I find myself alternately feeling sorry for her and feeling as though she got everything she had coming to her.
out of 5
Thanks For Nothing, Ohio State!
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Being from Michigan and having gone to Texas, I already hate Ohio State plenty. That said, their “performance” on Monday evening elevated that disdain to a newfound level. Not only did they cost me $20, but I sat through that fiasco in lieu of getting a jump on my week 2 book. Rarely do you see such a goose egg laid by someone in a title game, even rarer when it comes from the odds-on favorite. That debacle marked the second time in a week that I bet on a hated rival of my Texas Longhorns only to see them lose. The epic battle between Boise State and Oklahoma had me on the losing end as well. Generally I don’t let my feelings of hatred for a team play into my decision making, especially if I truly believe that a team will win a game. Just the same, I won’t be betting on either of those lame teams again!!!
I am about halfway done with Marilyn Monroe by Barbara Leaming. The story chronicles Norma Jean-Baker’s rise to fame starting with her arduous upbringing that saw her bounced from foster home to foster home. Few believed in her as an actress and it was a constant struggle for her reach the stardom she eventually enjoyed.
On a completely unrelated topic, I really don’t think I hate anything more than that awful Wendy’s commercial where the two idiots are inexplicably eating in a library. The d-bag on the right is eating the smallest meal in the world that could never even exist, which is probably what bothers me most. Anyway, he leans over to douche 2 and says, “$2.99.” Meanwhile, d-bag 2 is enjoying a regular sized Wendy’s meal and he whispers back, “$2.99.” I understand what they are trying to convey, but it that doesn’t stop it from being the stupidest, most annoying commercial on television. I will turn off the TV or change the channel as soon as it comes on. I mean, WHY ARE THEY EATING IN A LIBRARY????????
Week 1: The Killing of Robert F. Kennedy
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As with the death of his brother, Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination sparked immense controversy that provided a field day for conspiracy theorists everywhere. While not quite reaching the magnitude of the grassy knoll, the evidence suggesting that Sirhan Sirhan may not have acted alone provides plenty of fodder for debate. Dan E. Moldea’s investigative look into the case as it was handled, or mishandled by the LAPD and thus resulting in such a fervor, covers every possible angle with great detail.
Starting with a captivating recount of the lead up to that fateful walk through the Ambassador hotel kitchen and continuing through the years that eventually see Moldea himself get involved (and actually conduct a stunning polygraph of the person most often accused of being that second shooter), this book manages to balance a wealth of information with the ability to remain interesting. Too often these types of tomes can veer off into the textbook arena and become overly dry as they bog you down in minutiae. Moldea avoids that trap and keeps the book at a breezy 326 pages when it could’ve easily surpassed 600 had he let himself get carried away. Laced with detailed footnotes and a handful of revealing photos, Killing leaves no stone unturned before offering Moldea’s closing arguments with a comprehensive review of the preceding 304 pages.
As part of my favorite time period in American History, I was immediately drawn to this book when I saw it in the store a few weeks back. Both of the Kennedy assassinations have provided volumes of literature, but this was my first deep-dive into the RFK’s plight. I learned a lot about the details surrounding the RFK case and was able to gain a better understanding of what went on in June of 1968. I’d offer a favorable recommendation on this book, especially for history buffs looking for a clear view on the jumbled mess that was made of the investigation.
out of 5
The Start
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It started with a New Year’s Resolution. I decided that I would make the time to read at least one book a week in 2007. The goal, obviously, is then to read 52 books over the span of the next 52 weeks covering this year. I readily admit that reading a book a week on the surface isn’t a hard feat to accomplish. However, for the average person that works a regular job (as I do) and carries on a social life (as I try to do), it can be taxing and thus a legitimate challenge. The trick, as I mentioned, is that I must make the time for the resolution. In that respect, it’s just like all the tired resolutions trotted out yearly about going to the gym, eating healthier, getting your life organized, etc… If people resolving to achieve those goals would make the time, they’d be trimmer or better prepared, but as January fades in February so too does the drive necessary to complete a year-long goal.
Now, there will be weeks that I don’t finish the entire book that I pick or even start one for a variety of reasons. Some of these reasons are pre-meditated: the annual SXSW music festival in March, my planned trip to Florida for Detroit Tigers Spring Training also in March and another planned trip to Detroit to see the Tigers in some regular season action sometime in the summer with my sister. There’ll be no reprieves, but that is why the goal is to read 52 books in 52 weeks. The coming weeks will present an opportunity to collect a few books and place them in reserve. With baseball (my true passion) still in the off-season and a lackluster football season winding down (and struggling to keep my attention anyway) my free time is easily devoted to the quest. I could always watch regular season NBA, but I’d rather read this than watch three minutes of a regular season game involving the Golden State Warriors or Charlotte Bobcats.
I had originally planned to post the entire 52-book schedule, but the fact of the matter is I’d never stick to it. My moods and reading habits will be fluid throughout the course of the year as will my selection process each Monday. As March approaches, I expect a flurry of baseball reading to dominate the landscape with impending season, meanwhile I may spend some summer evenings diving into a fictional thriller or two. Who knows? A steady dose of history, sports and sociology can be expected, but I’m not averse to switching things up. I have about 25-30 unread books on the shelf right now that are to be part of the journey, but that leaves around 20 or so more books to be selected.
In terms of posts you can expect to find here, I aim to post reviews of all 52 books read upon the completion of each. Also I aim to deliver updates throughout the week on how the book is and maybe just some off-the-cuff ramblings regarding whatever is on my mind. This post as well as the review of book one will be filed under the category Week 1 despite this being the second week of 2007. All other postings will be categorized with their corresponding week.
