Author: Kevin Lawver

I’ve finished two books in a week and have started on a third with gusto. The first, I’ve told you about repeatedly: American Gods. I just finished Jolie Blon’s Bounce by James Lee Burke. It’s pretty short for a Dave Robicheaux novel, and I’m starting to get the feeling that Mr. Burke is running out of creative steam. His last three or four books, not counting the amazing To The Bright And Shining Sun have followed the same formula of some preternaturally bad dude, a horrible person from Dave’s past and a crime. I read Bitterroot over Thanksgiving, and felt a sense of deja vu. He’s written some amazing stuff. His descriptions of Louisianna, the South in general and sense of dialogue are uncanny. He can spin a great tale. If you haven’t read Heaven’s Prisoners or Dixie City Jam, go get them now. You could skip Joli Blon’s Bounce and not have really missed anything.

I’ve started on A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. I’ve read lots of posts from people about how funny his writing is and spied this book on the bookshelf in our bathroom (don’t ask… I’ll take pictures eventually) and said, “Hey, where did this come from,” to the yawning bowl, pulled the book down and went to find Jen to ask her. Apparently, her mom gave it to her (my mother in-law is a great source of literature… she’s always giving us books) at Thanksgiving and Jen just got around to putting it up on the shelf. I’ve only gotten through the preface and acknowledgements and laughed my butt off through them. I can’t wait to really start the book.

I go on these tears every six months or so and just rip through books until my literary demon has been sated and goes back to sleep. If I finish this one, I have Jen’s Christmas present to me, Wobegon Boy by Garrison Keilor waiting for me in our lavatory/library.

He ambled up the street, peering in shop windows and wondering at the people with hands shoved in coat pockets rushing from place to place, disappearing, reappearing as others doing the same, going somewhere he wasn’t. They walked in long, fast steps, covering as much ground as possible without running or looking desperate to be anywhere but going. He wandered, slowly, feet never going too far in front of himself, propelling him just enough to change the scenery. He wasn’t going anywhere, had no where to be but with himself doing nothing. He’d lost his purpose somewhere, and didn’t remember where it had gone to. He walked from one end of town to the other for no other reason than it kept him warm and passed the time while he looked for his purpose. He was the King of Mosey and wandered until he wandered clean out of sight.