Poor Richard's Scorecard

'Await Your Reply' Presents the Reality of All Those Nigerian Princes

THE THREE storylines Dan Chaon weaves together in his novel Await Your Reply barely touch one another directly, but he's so adroit with his plotting that by the end of the book their entwining is unquestioned. Two of the threads delve into the sketchy, jittery world of identity thieves; the third follows a man tracking his long-lost brother. All are riveting.

Perhaps 'Shutter Island' Should Have Been Written as a Screenplay in the First Place

Shutter Island opened yesterday, and with an A-list director and an A-list star, it would seem to be in a good position for critical and commercial success. But while Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio are obvious draws and have done good work together previously, they may be hampered by their source material. I recall Dennis Lehane's novel, which I read a few years ago, as being surprisingly underwhelming. What was all the fuss about? I remember thinking.

Another Book Given Up On, So I'm No Longer 'Haunted' By the 'Fight Club' Guy

Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project is a terrific read: everyday counsel on being happy, from a working mom who is refreshingly normal, very bright, and unfailingly gracious and pleasant. Recently she offered tips on reading more--one of my perpetual self-improvement projects--and No. 1 really resonated:

Next, Perhaps Garry Trudeau Can Explain Where R.E.M. Went Wrong

Outland and Opus were well-intended missteps, but Bloom County remains, like Doonesbury and Calvin and Hobbes, not merely a comic strip but brilliant social commentary. I'd go so far as to call it (and them) literature. In an interview with Vice coinciding with the release of a five-volume compilation of every Bloom County strip, creator Berkeley Breathed offered several interesting insights about his work. And then there's this piece of Truth, when he was asked about his encounters with fans of Bloom County:

In Memory: Robert B. Parker, 1932-2010

I met Robert B. Parker once, at a book signing. It was about 20 years ago, when I was in college, on a sunny Sunday during summer. He was at a bookstore in Suburban Square, in Ardmore, to sign his newest Spenser book. I recall chatting with him about baseball: His Red Sox were not long removed from the Bill Buckner tragedy, and a long way from shattering the Curse; my Phillies were in the dead zone between the 1983 and '93 pennants. It was a nice chat, the kind only long-suffering fans can have.

Y'Know, This Harry Potter Stuff Just Might Find a Following

Oh, so that's what all the fuss was about.

Last night, after a couple of months of bedtime reading, my 8-year-old and I finished Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It had sat on her bookshelf since we brought her home from the hospital as a newborn, waiting for her to reach an appropriate age. The next book in the series will probably sit for all of a night or a two before we crack that open.

It's Not You, Nick Hornby, It's Me

Five years ago, on my previous blog, I wrote about the necessity of permitting oneself to give up on a book before finishing it. I hate doing it, but with so many other wonderful books out there, and one's time limited, it's okay to say to a work, "I'm just not that into you."

Last week I dumped Nick Hornby.

In Philly's Northern 'Burbs, a Low-Level Thief Wrestles With His Past--and His Present

Ray is a loser, a derelict, a guy in and out of trouble with the law since high school. He makes his living by posing as a DEA agent and boosting drugs and money from small-time dealers. When Ray and his partner, Manny, knock over a dealer more connected than they thought, and with unexpectedly violent results, these low-level crooks find themselves pursued by ruthless killers who want their scratch back. Local writer Dennis Tafoya's debut novel, Dope Thief, is a quick-moving work saturated with foreboding as it tracks Ray and Manny's efforts to stay a step ahead of the bad guys--well, the badder guys. But what elevates Dope Thief from the realm of mere genre fiction is Tafoya's exploration of character and his achingly true rendering of Ray's increasing dissatisfaction with his fractured life.

On McCarthy's 'Road,' You Ain't Seen Bleak Yet ... But It's Comin'

The unthinkable has happened, and in the cold, rainy, ashen aftermath, a father and son make their way toward the coast, scavenging what they can while trying to stay alive and find other survivors. In The Road, Cormac McCarthy's post-apocalytpic vision is as dark as they come; while there are no zombies, he places marauding bands of cannibalistic bad guys throughout the bleak landscape. More, he offers, in the mundane daily details of two good people trying to stay both alive and true to their decent natures, a damned scary and realistic picture of survival efforts under the worst of circumstances.

Back Open for Business

Catching up on Philadelphia's busy week after returning from vacation

What the hell?

I go on vacation for just one week -- one goddamn week -- and the Phillies go in the tank, 3 cans Mendte, the Sixers draft a coaster, the Flyers resign a key young player, and Daulerio takes over Deadspin.

It's enough to make a guy want to stay home.

Until he remembers the taste of the lobster roll at the Sesuit Harbor Cafe, the view teeing off under the windmill at the Highlands in Truro, the sight of his daughters dipping their feet in Cape Cod Bay, the experience of actually reading, cover to cover, a work of fiction containing not one illustration, and the smell of the water while strolling through the lapping tide at 10 at night. And then he realizes that the world can go to hell in a handbasket so long as he can swig Smuttynose Shoals Pale Ale while cleaning up in the beach house's outdoor shower. | PRS