"Nicotine" by Nell Zink

As I finished this book and put it down, my exact words to myself were, "Well, that was weird." 

I didn't like Nicotine anywhere near as much as I liked The Wallcreeper, which is unfortunate but not surprising. I mean, I really really liked The Wallcreeper. It would be amazing for another book (even one by the same author) to live up to the expectations it set. But saying I didn't like this one as much as I liked the other one doesn't mean I didn't like this one. This one was just . . . weird. 

So, weirdness. Nicotine is about a bunch of weird characters from weird backgrounds in weird situations. It had never even crossed my mind that there may be groups of activists squatting in abandoned houses throughout the US. Meth-heads or soap-making fight club members, sure, but political statement-makers? Nah. (Guess it hadn't crossed the mind of the main character, Penny, or anyone else in her family, either, until they were actually confronted with the reality.) 

Nicotine starts with the weird Norm Baker, founder of a weird quasi-cult for the terminally ill, who has become terminally ill himself. His daughter Penny (whose mother was formerly Norm's unofficially-adopted daughter . . . yeah, weird) is by his side for his weeks-long death, after which she finds herself somewhat homeless. So she goes to check out the house Norm grew up in (which he still owned at the time of his death, but had ignored for years) and finds it full of the aforementioned squatting activists. And of course she falls in love with the first one she sees: beautiful golden boy Rob with an embarrassing secret in his pants. 

I feel like the weirdest thing about this book, though--the thing that left me with the lasting impression of its weirdness--was how everyone lived happily ever after. I'm not going to list actual spoilers here (you're welcome), but it's basically the fact that everyone gets what (read: who) they want. (Well, except maybe Susannah?) That just felt surprising to me. I kind of expected more angst and torment. 

"In Five Years" by Rebecca Serle

I can't believe I spent seventeen dollars on this book. Not that there's inherently anything wrong with the book itself. But it's a ROmance. Ugh. 

This book caught my eye because every now and then I like to do this thing where I imagine what my life will be like five years from now. And then when I read the premise (the main character gets an unexpected glimpse of her life in five years, then goes back to life as she knew it) I was intrigued. (I can imagine that if, in 2007, I had jumped ahead to 2012, it would have blown my mind.) 

But when I brought this book home and showed it to Sam, he looked slightly bemused and asked, "Isn't that a romance?" I gasped. He was right. How could I have overlooked all the clues?? It was definitely a romance, firmly in the category at which I scoff. At least it was relatively short, so I was able to get it over with quickly. 

Here's one good thing about the book, though. It inspired me to write an email to myself. I'll receive it in five years.

"The Saturday Night Ghost Club" by Craig Davidson

I tagged along to a bookstore with a friend, not intending to buy anything. (Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen! I should have known better.) That bright orange Penguin spine always catches my eye. And I'm a sucker for ghost stories, and for the dark mysteries promised by the back cover. So what if this is probably a YA book? (Who actually decides that, anyway? Isn't it more in the marketing than anything else?)

Anyway, this book was fun to read but I don't have a lot to say about it. It's the story of 12-year-old Jake Baker who is somewhat of an ostracized nerd growing up in Niagara Falls. His best friend is his Uncle Calvin, who owns a store of the occult and who believes in things that most adults have outgrown. When Billy Yellowbird moves to town and it seems like Jake might finally have a friend his own age, Uncle C decides it's time they join him in some ghost-hunting. They spend a summer visiting the sites of several creepy myths and legends around town, hardly stopping to think about the possible truth to their origins. 

I'd say this book rises above the level of what I used to find at Scholastic book fairs, but it doesn't match something like What Dies In Summer. 

Two birds with one stone: Susanna Clarke

Books like these are unfair to all the other books. 

I wish I hadn't done this, but I didn't blog about either of these books right away. When I finished Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Sam had just finished reading Piranesi and he was eager for me to read it immediately, so he encouraged me not to take the time to blog about Strange & Norrell but to wait and do one blog post covering both books. I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to break my rules for once. The only problem is that now I'll not end up doing either book justice . . . though I have a feeling that I never could have. 

Both books were so well-written and so engaging. Strange & Norrell was, to me, everything that Grossman's The Magicians had promised me but had failed to follow through on. It tells the story of the return of magicians to nineteenth century England. The book was looooong, and yet it went by so fast! And now I'm eager to watch the TV series. Piranesi, though quite a bit shorter, was every bit as intriguing (or possibly more so, as it had more of an element of mystery), one of those stories that begins with everything cloaked in secrets, leaving you to puzzle your way through. Neither book caused me to deeply contemplate The Meaning of Life, but both were completely engrossing, and the reading experience was the way I wish it could be with every book.