I finished reading this over a week ago, but hesitated writing a review. There’s so much contained in this book–so many questions and even fewer answers–but I think it’s a book that needed to be written. Dave Cullen is a journalist who covered the Columbine tragedy as it occurred, and spent the next ten years researching it and ultimately writing this book.

I was 18 when the Columbine massacre happened in April 1999. I remember seeing the images on the news: high school kids running out of the school, falling out of windows, milling around outside in grief. And of course, the photos of the two boys who were identified as the killers, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. Then came the media onslaught: theories, rumors, erroneous reports, and speculation. Everyone wanted someone to blame. It wouldn’t do to blame only the killers, who had committed suicide at the end of their gun-fueled rampage. For months after, and even now–years later–it’s still not quite clear what turned the two boys into killers.

There are plenty of theories, to be sure, and Cullen’s book attempts to narrow them down. It almost seems like a pointless exercise, after the fact–to examine the boys’ childhoods and journal entries and attempt to read between the lines, to try to understand more, beyond their violent tirades and (at times) nonsensical words. But in an age of media oversaturation, and the fact that Columbine had been probably the most widely televised school shooting to date, it seems reasonable for us to seek answers, to try to placate the most nagging of questions–”Why?”

I don’t think this book glorifies the killers in any way. Rather, it seeks to set the record straight, to dispel myths surrounding the tragedy, to clarify who the victims were (and who they were not), and also, to try to understand how two teenage boys could lash out at their classmates and teachers in such a violent, irreversible way.

It’s been 11 years since the Columbine tragedy. Although it permeated the media when it happened, over time, news stories faded and eventually diminished. There are exceptions, such as the anniversary of the shootings (April 20), when perhaps a news blurb flashes across the TV screen, reminding us what happened years ago. But I think of the families and friends of those who died that day–all of them, the victims and even the killers–and I can’t imagine what they have to live with every day. For them, more than for any of us, the unanswered questions will always be there. Unlike us, they cannot simply close the book, ponder it for a while, and then move on. The memories and impact of that day will stay with them for the rest of their lives.

This is a very confusing novel.

The thing is, it doesn’t start out confusing; in fact, the first chapter drew me in. However, I began the book with the awareness that it’s about three pairs of people whose storylines ultimately converge in some way. So, I read every subsequent chapter trying to figure out how everything and everyone could be linked.

Maybe that was an exercise in futility, because the final third or so of the book is when the plotlines become very crossed and very confusing. In fact, the resolution of the story is ambiguous in many ways and that was frustrating.

As for the quality of the writing, I don’t have any complaints. I think Chaon is a good writer, but the twists and turns of the narrative distracted me from being able to appreciate the writing itself. I would read this author again, but I won’t be re-reading this particular title.

I absolutely loved this book.

I first heard about it on the Books on the Nightstand podcast. The novel starts with an interesting premise: Paul’s wife, Lexy, has died unexpectedly. The only witness to her death was their dog, Lorelei. In a desperate effort to understand what happened to Lexy, Paul (a linguist) decides that he’s going to try to teach Lorelei how to talk.

That’s a general overview of the plot, but the book is so much more than this. It’s exquisitely written–I found myself pausing to re-read a sentence or paragraph not for clarity, but in order to relish the beauty of the words. To illustrate (this is from one of the early chapters, so there are no spoilers here):

The day was warm, and we drove with the windows open. Breeze on my arms as I drove. Savor it now, the day, the breeze. Run the memory of it over your tongue. Speak it aloud; there’s no one listening. Say “sun” and “hot” and “day.” Close your eyes and remember the moment, the warm pink life of it. Lexy’s body in the seat next to mine. Her voice filling the car. Let it wash over you. It ends soon enough.

I’ll stop here, only to say that I highly recommend this book. I loved everything about it, to the point where it moved me to tears. Of course, the fact that one of the main characters is a dog probably had something to do with that since I have quite a weakness for dogs. But beyond this, it’s a haunting tale of love, loss, and memory; one that I think will stay with me for a long time.

So, let’s talk about how much I hated this book.

Well…hate is a strong word, but appropriate in this case. I just didn’t enjoy reading this. As I did, my reaction to the story would ebb and flow: at times the story was interesting (therefore, I kept reading) and other times it would get really, really boring (and I would question why I didn’t just give up on this). I guess I could have stopped reading it, but by the time I thought about it, I figured I was past the point of no return–I was about halfway done at that point–so I stuck with it, hoping the end would be satisfying. Nope. No cigar.

To be specific, the main things I disliked (other than the plot) were the timeline and the characters themselves. The story takes place in a short amount of time, but it jumps around quite a bit; I had to re-orient myself because it wasn’t always clear that we were in a flashback. As for the characters, the teenage boys didn’t have very realistic voices. They said “yo” a lot and talked about girls and sex, but at times their dialogue sounded nothing like real teenagers. That was distracting. Lastly, I didn’t sympathize with the characters. I thought the protagonist/sometimes narrator Tim was interesting, but he didn’t redeem the novel for me. That’s another thing I didn’t like–the narrative shifted between first person point of view in the form of journal entries, to third person omniscient, then back to first person. Again, just distracting for me.

I was going to summarize the plot, but you know…suffice it to say that the plot was disjointed and wrapped up in a very contrived way. I was ready for a creepy, possibly supernatural story, but this one really disappointed me, so I can’t recommend it. The funny thing is, both Stephen King and Neil Gaiman loved the book, which is what had peaked my interest in it to begin with. Different strokes…

Last year, I read Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson and loved it. I was hoping that Catalyst would be as good, if not better. The first half or so of the story was pretty good, but I found the second half (and the book overall) disappointing.

The blurb on the back cover is pretty vague. It describes Kate Malone, a high school senior and overachieving minister’s daughter who has her heart set on attending MIT. She believes she knows the course her life is headed on, but soon finds out that she doesn’t.

There’s a series of events that then take place, but which seem to have been created in an attempt mainly to move the plot forward, rather than develop the characters in a better way. I expected the story to be more Kate-centric; while she is the main character, I didn’t really like the way that the story veered away from her at various points.

I suppose I expected the story to be about something different, which left me disappointed when I figured out what it was actually about. Also, I was hoping that this would live up to the greatness of Speak, which it didn’t do. Nevertheless, I do enjoy Anderson’s style of writing and will continue to read her books.

I didn’t have much interest in this book when I first heard about it, so I hadn’t planned on reading it. Then I kept hearing about it and it had really good reviews, so I figured I’d give it a try. It’s kind of hit or miss with me when I read a bestseller. Sometimes I see what all the fuss is about; sometimes the book doesn’t resonate with me. This one did the latter.

[I won't summarize the book since I don't think I'll be able to do it properly without spoiling some of the plot elements. Anyway, I'm sure the Amazon summary can give a better (albeit generic) overview.]

I knew this was going to be a good read when I teared up during the prologue. Yes, really–the prologue. It’s that well-written and engrossing from the start. It’s strange to be that affected so early in the novel, but the prose is beautifully constructed–the only other author I can think of whose prose affects me the same way is Anita Shreve. And since it was so early in the book, I didn’t have a chance to really connect with any of the characters yet, so the fact that it was that moving so soon was surprising, but really powerful at the same time.

As the story progressed, I definitely became emotionally invested in the characters (particularly the main character, Jacob). Beyond this, however, were elements of the plot itself that were unexpected. There were moments that seemed predictable at the beginning of the book. However, when they were fully revealed later on, they took me by surprise. That’s sort of rare, but when it’s beautifully executed, it’s quite a delight to experience as a reader. I felt like part of the conclusion was kind of rushed, but it didn’t bother me too much since both the characters and plot were fully developed. And I really, really liked the ending.

Footnote: Water for Elephants is being made into a movie (and being filmed right now, actually). I’m not sure if I like the idea of Reese Witherspoon as Marlena, but I do like her in pretty much every other movie I’ve seen her in. Jacob is being played by Robert Pattinson (yes, really) and I have hopes that he’ll do well in the role. I’ve seen him in non-Twilight movies and really liked him–his performance in Remember Me was largely overlooked, sadly. So, I’m looking forward to seeing if the movie will capture the same emotions conveyed in the book.

Add Dracula to the list of classics I didn’t read until I was an adult. That being said, I didn’t like it much at all. I wanted to, I just…didn’t. In fact, it took me months to finish it because I got bored (and sidetracked with school) and didn’t finish until last night.

There were parts I did like, though. I think that Van Helsing and Dracula himself were the best parts of the novel. It’s kind of distracting because the book shifts narrators quite a bit and at times I had to go back to remember who was narrating. But when Van Helsing took over, his narrative voice seemed the most compelling.

I say that Dracula is one of the most interesting characters of the book (if not THE most interesting), but the bummer is that he’s hardly actually IN the book. The other characters talk about him, they plot against him, they hunt him down…but the Count is very elusive, which was disappointing. When he was truly in a scene, I was riveted by the sheer, utter creepiness of his character. Stoker did an amazing job making him so vile, yet so inviting at the same time. It was an oddity that I wish he would have explored more. I just didn’t find the story as interesting when Dracula was only on the periphery of the plot.

As for the characters I didn’t care much about, I have to go with Jonathan and Mina. They bored me, actually. Mina seemed a little too perfect–too saint-like in her womanly perfection, so much that the men hallowed her existence. Weird. I felt a little sorry for Lucy, but we didn’t really get a chance to explore her character for very long.

The end felt very abrupt; it seemed like the whole novel was leading up to this one event, only to come to a complete stop when that moment finally arrived. Overall, I was disappointed by the novel since it’s hailed as such a classic and masterpiece. I’m glad I finally read it, but I was expecting more.