Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea

According to The Christian Science Monitor, "There's a whiff of a classic about Ella Minnow Pea." I would have to argue that point: I think the book reeks of a classic with a stench of pure ingenuity. In fact, it is quite possibly one of the most clever books I have ever read. I discovered the book via the Powell's Books Daily Dose, which sends daily book recommendations from Powell's customers. The description led me to a simple conclusion: I must read this book. I was not disappointed.

Ella Minnow Pea (think L-M-N-O-P) is an epistolary novel that consists solely of letters exchanged between characters. The novel is set on the fictional island of Nollop, named after the inventor of the legendary pangram, "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." The pangram is proudly posted on a statue in the center of the island until one day a tile with a letter falls off. The governing body of the island decides Nollop is speaking from beyond the grave. The message? That the fallen letter is no longer allowed to be used in writing or in speech. As tiles continue to fall from the statue, letters continue to be banned. In an effort to avoid the banned letters, the epistolary-inclined Nollopians must creatively author their letters. As the permissible letters decrease, Mark Dunn sneakily and eloquently continues the epistolary exchange, but, by the end, the letters resemble text speak, and each acts as a bit of a literary puzzle that necessitates some phonetic gymnastics. Not only is the plot engaging, but the spelling is downright inventive. The true treat comes at the end of the book when the citizens attempt to create their own pangram with less than 32 letters in order to restore legal use of the entire alphabet.

This book could have been about many things: censorship, separation of church and state, or literary culture. Though the novel would be a successful commentary on any of these topics, the most successful aspect of the book is its charm. It was amusing, unique, and thought provoking. As I finished this book in record time at the JFK airport at the beginning of a very long, post-Egypt layover, I could only regret that I had not savored the story longer.

RECOMMENDED: Highly

NEXT READ: Lev Grossman's The Magicians

REREAD: Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate

Dunn, Mark. Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters. New York: Random House, 2001.

"DO NOT SALE"

Egregious errors in spelling and grammar are all around us. This one is lurking right behind me, literally, everyday at work.

Sometimes I wonder why I don't simply change it. I could quietly create a new sign reading "Do Not Sell." I could even get a little crazy and write "Not For Sale," but I never do. Perhaps it leaves me feeling grammatically superior, or perhaps it provides me a little of the familiar in the retail job I feel oh-so-foreign at: when I feel like a fish out of water, I know how to fix this mistake. Like saving the best bite of a meal for last, maybe I am saving this edit for the moment when I can most savor it.

Gail Carriger’s Soulless

I am a self-professed book snob. I am drawn to the most literary of titles. I shy away from the thrift paperback editions in favor of critical editions. I research which translation is considered to be the best before I purchase a book. And, admittedly, I had never bought a book from the Science Fiction and Fantasy section of a bookstore until now. Why the change of heart? A little YouTube video that shows a six-hour-long book design process condensed into two minutes. It is incredible! And you can see it for yourself here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoDCiTsS7dU.

Having had to use the InDesign program before, I was floored by the masterful way this design was created. Though the design program in the YouTube video is not InDesign, I imagine the same principles apply, and it would have taken me six hours to do the text boxes alone. The video shows the cover of Blameless, and having been so entranced by the cover, I set out to purchase and read the book. Before long I discovered that Blameless is the third book in Ms. Carriger’s Parasol Protectorate series and its release date appears to be September 2010. This meant I had time to acquire and read the first two books in the series. Though Changeless was in stock everywhere, Soulless was not. The stubborn in-person book buyer in me refused to give up and order it online, and after scouring Phoenix bookstores I triumphed.

Perhaps it is my delight with etiquette, my love of Victorian literature, the allure of anything British, or just the sheer originality of a spinster supernatural dealing with vampires and werewolves while exhibiting the best of manners, but I truly enjoyed this book. The cleverness far outweighed the tongue-in-cheek cheesiness, and I am quite excited to read Changeless in the coming weeks.

You can find out more about Ms. Carriger, her series, and all her proper ways by following her on Twitter at @gailcarriger or by perusing her website at www.gailcarriger.com.

RECOMMENDED: Yep

NEXT READ: Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea

REREAD: Haruki Murakami's The Hard-Boiled Wonderland at the End of the World


Carriger, Gail. Soulless. New York: Orbit, 2009.

Honk If You're Egyptian

Amid all the history, culture, and wonder of Egypt, there is one constant. One persistent feature impossible to ignore. Mummies? No. The image of King Tutankhamun? No again. The pyramids? Egyptians could care less. The unifying factor of all the places we explored in Egypt? The incessant, call-to-prayer-interrupting, often maddening, sound of horns honking. Egyptian's vehicular aural communication is as difficult to decode as the intricate dance of the honeybee. Short honk followed by long. Three short honks. Two long honks. What did it all mean? Each pattern seemed to have some hidden meaning, a Morse code of sorts that only the other erratic Egyptian drivers understand. (Employing a driving style to rival the insanity of the Italians, Egyptians ensure each crossing of the street is a test of speed and agility that not even Frogger would dare to attempt.) As we made our way through each city, each midan, and each street, one honk became abundantly clear: a long, loud, resounding horn meant, simply, get out of the way, and do it fast.

After walking across the border from Israel to Egypt, we were immediately greeted with the most classic of Egyptian customs: being offered "a special deal" that roughly equates to someone thinking you are a sucker who will overpay by about 300%. After politely declining, we had a 2.5 hour drive on a microbus (the same as a sherut in Israel) through Sinai and along the coast of the Red Sea, to a small diving-centered city called Dahab. We rested for a few hours, and then crawled aboard yet another microbus for a 2 hour drive to St. Catherine's Monastery at the foot of the impressive Mt. Sinai of Moses and Ten Commandments fame. The adventure in store? I hike to the top, beginning at 2 AM, in an effort to reach the summit in time to watch the sunrise. As we trekked up the steep, dark, cold, camel-lined trail I concluded two things: I am still terrified of camels and Moses was a crazy person. I must admit, the feat was worth it, the view impressive, and the experience unforgettable. Six hours later, after the hike down, we were back at monastery, visited the burning bush, and then took the microbus back to Dahab where we had a few hours of rest and koshary (which was insanely delicious and only rivaled by the delectable mango juice that was in season), before our overnight bus ride to Cairo.

Cairo put our haggling skills to the test immediately. As soon as we retrieved our baggage from the bus we were offered yet another "special discount" on a cab ride to our hostel. The offer? Two hundred Egyptian pounds. The offer after converting to USD? Around $36. The hilarity of it? The cab ride should only cost about 30 Egyptian pounds (around $6). Which, after an epic bout of haggling, was what we paid to get to Talaat Harb Square, our neighborhood for the next five days.

Cairo is gigantic. With a population of 25 million people it is sprawling, fast-paced, and has a modern downtown with historic areas scattered throughout. We explored Old Cairo, Coptic (Christian) Cairo, the island in the middle of the Nile, and walked our legs off on daily ventures into different directions into the city, and I think Josh can attest that I sampled the mango juice that each area had to offer. Of course, everywhere we went people wanted to help us out. Not only were we welcomed by dozens of Cairenes everywhere we walked, but they also offered to accompany us to where we were headed so that we wouldn't get lost. This assistance inevitably had one of two results. The first result: we would, just happen, to walk right by a store where our guide would receive a commission if something were purchased (I believe "high-pressured sales" does not quite do this phenomenon justice). The second result: we would, not so nicely, be demanded to proffer up a baksheesh (tip or bribe). This practice borders on the absurd. Imagine someone offering to give you directions, and then upon dispensing the unsolicited information, that person demands that you pay them. Or if you happen to take a picture of, say, the Nile, some random person might insist that pictures are not allowed unless you pay them. Keep in mind that this is a lie, you know it is a lie, and you realize the person has no authority, but you then cave into handing over the 3 Egyptian pounds (60 cents) in the face of an escalating disagreement that potentially, usually, results in someone yelling at you in harsh Arabic, that I suspect involves some cursing.

Alexandria, 2 hours by train northwest of Cairo, offered a beautiful reprieve from such antics. We walked from the central train station along the corniche (the road along the shore) to the Library of Alexandria. On the way, not only did we enjoy the peace of looking at our map and guidebook without offers of help or demands for baksheesh, but we had the most delicious meal of our trip. What could have been more fitting than a grilled fish freshly caught from the Mediterranean accompanied by baba ghanoush, fresh vegetables, sauteed peppers and onions, and the requisite side of french fries? And then to top it off with the Library of Alexandria?! I beelined to the literature section (800) and the presence of the classics on the shelves of this most historic of libraries sent my heart all aflutter. It was amazing, and beautiful, and the best part is that it is a fully functioning, high tech, modern institution. The ample seating was being utilized by university students doing what university students do in libraries: finishing homework, napping on open notebooks, and, of course, Facebooking.

But what would any trip to Egypt be without a visit to the pyramids? We saw them all: Giza, the Sphinx (I know, I know, not a pyramid), the Red, the Bent, and the first-ever attempt at a pyramid: the Step. They were magnificent. And those are only the major ones. We went inside the pyramid of Pepi I, and also hung out in Djoser's funerary complex. The whole experience was nothing short of amazing. To see hieroglyphs in person! To be inside a pyramid and have that eerie feeling that you are in someone's burial chamber! To walk to the crest of a sand dune and see even more, lesser known pyramids fill the skyline! I am so lucky to fulfill what was truly a childhood dream, and it was worth every baksheesh paid along the way.

1 Shekel, 2 Shekalim

After a week spent in Israel, Josh and I only realized en route to Egypt that the plural of shekel (Israel's currency) is not shekels, as we had been so fondly calling them. The proper pluralization, apparently, requires the addition of '-im.' Still, I think the shekel is my all-time favorite name of a currency. I have also taken poetic licenses and more than once told Josh, "A shekel saved is a shekel earned." I'm not sure how Mr. Franklin would feel about my alteration of his well-known adage, but I choose to think he'd take it in moderation.

I'm not sure how to describe the plane flight from New York to Tel Aviv. I suppose turbulent suffices for both the cloud-induced bumps, as well as the behavior of the passengers. I've never thought that flight attendants were so close to using physical force -- those Israelis did not want to stay seated, did not want their seat belts fastened, and did not want their seat backs and trays in the upright position. I cannot count the number of times a flight attendant had to announce, "Get back in your seat! Yes, you, sir. You are the one in the aisle." And when I deplaned I had never seen such disarray! The mess left on that plane is nearly indescribable. There were cups, in-flight magazines, plastic utensils, and airline blankets, and pillows strewn everywhere. It was as if all airline-related paraphernalia had tried to stage a revolt.

As we stepped into the Tel Aviv airport, we readied ourselves for the high level of security scrutiny about which we had been forewarned, but traveling through the airport was a breeze. In fact, that was a repeated pattern: our expectations pleasantly debunked. To be perfectly candid, I haven't written sooner because I haven't wanted to take time to stop exploring Jerusalem and then Tel Aviv. Jerusalem was more than anything I could have expected. Not only was it amazingly traveler-friendly, it was amazingly friendly in general. Without a doubt, our typical Western notions of the city do it a great disservice. There was merely a fraction of the conservative attitude we had been lead to expect, and where the conservative did exist, it seemed the only expectations on visitors were simply to respect it, and not to adhere to it. Except for a rogue tout (who, after we refused his services, in hindsight, deliberately told us the wrong path to take to Mt. Zion) everyone was immensely welcoming and helpful. The residents of Jerusalem seem almost as if they want visitors to love the Holy City the same way they do, and were especially handy to help with directions. We experienced this within 5 minutes of entering the city after our sherut (shared taxi) dropped us off. Because where would it drop us off if not on a random street corner in the middle of a strange, new city? And what could be more comical than Josh being completely convinced the sherut driver had pointed down the street, and me being absolutely sure he had pointed us up the street? In the end, it seem we had been pointed across the street. As we stood with our backpacks looking up at the street signs, down at the map, and up at the street signs again, not one, but two passersby, stopped to offer us help.

After that, navigating was a piece of cake. We walked our feet off in the Old City, where Christianity, Islam, and Judaism coexist in one gigantic walled-in city, filled with souqs, markets, restaurants, churches, and mosques. Over two days we toured the Old City, visited the oh-so-new-and-modern Israel Museum, walked the Via Dolorosa (Way of Sorrows aka the stations of the cross), hiked down from the Mt. of Olives, visited the sight where Jesus was believed to be buried, and I had some mighty delicious bagels and lox, shawarma (scrumptious seasoned meat, usually in a sandwich or pita), and a few other Isreali staple foods. Then, it was off to Tel Aviv, where I put my academic pants on and presented a paper on publishing at Israel's First Academic Writing Conference and later attended some interesting lectures. Then, I had one of the best burgers of my life, topped with grilled eggplant and Bulgarian cheese. Tel Aviv is exciting. Every street has its own personality, and we stayed in the city center, and then by the beach, where I thoroughly enjoyed a dip in the Mediterranean.

So, on Sunday we took a four-hour bus ride from Tel Aviv to the border city of Eilat, took bus 15 to the border crossing in Taba, paid our 98.5 shekel (25.26 USD) exit fee in Israel, and walked over the border to Egypt, where I am writing from now. I can't wait to follow all the advice on my brother Mike's "Egyptian To Do List" which mostly includes the cheapest places to acquire food. We are off to eat dinner at one of his recommendations in Dahab called Koshary House, which features an authentic Egyptian dish consisting of pasta, rice, spicy tomato sauce, lentils, and fried onions. I will let you know how it is!

Ten Warning Signs A Working Relationship May Not Work Out

Since graduation in May I have humbly attempted to grow a freelance editing business. Having little inclination towards business practicalities, I have been learning a lot of lessons the hard way. The latest involved an aspiring author who was impossible to work with. There is a bright side! He has helped me to identify ten warning signs of a doomed editorial project, and possibly warning signs of doomed working relationships in general:

10. Gives you reason to suspect that he believes he personally coined the phrase "turn lemons in to lemonade" and thinks he is genius for it.

9. Has unreasonable expectations regarding your ability to prognosticate the precise number of words you will edit in a given hour.

8. Refuses to pay you in full for a project he approved you to begin work on.

7. Has never heard of PayPal but asks if you take money orders.

6. Forbids you to spend the money he paid you on your upcoming trip to an academic conference because he does “not want to finance your vacation.”

5. Composes text messages in all capital letters.

4. Refuses to open email attachments.

3. Marks every voicemail as urgent.

2. Ends every voicemail and conversation with the word “out.”

and . . . drum roll please . . .

1. Consistently refers to himself in the third person, by his last name, preceded by “the.” Yes. Think “The Miz” of Real World then wrestling fame.

What a fluke to have found so many eccentricities in one person! Perhaps he is a narcissist, perhaps he is a victim of trust issues, or perhaps he is a sufferer of a great many other psychological issues. One thing is for sure: I will no longer be working with him.

In Honor of the 2010 World Cup

At first glance, this looks to be a glaring typo! Clearly, the 'a' is missing from the what should be "goal."

Upon further consideration, we find that it is the correct spelling of the Spanish word for goal.

I choose to believe that, in actuality, Chester Cheeto predicted Spain, the original Spanish-speaking country, as the winner. It's science. Well, it's linguistics.

Take that Octopus Paul.

Special thanks goes to Ms. Rehfeldt for this contribution.

A Freudian Grip and the Question of Originality

There is nothing more purely entertaining than sitting around, laughing, chatting, saying something clever and witty, and thinking you have come up with something new.

. . . and then there is nothing more disappointing than realizing your cleverness is not all that original because someone else has come up with it first.

Case in point? A little discussion I had the other night. In a silly exchange I posited, “What does one call it when someone makes a gestural Freudian slip?” You know what I mean: an accidental graze of another person’s anatomical part. (Perhaps not so accidental if you are a creepy old man.) We could only presume that there must be some description of such a phenomenon! The obvious term, of course, was Freudian grip. Having never heard the term before, we rejoiced in our inventive wittiness.

Then, of course, a craving for further knowledge reared its ugly head and a Google search ensued.

I took what I considered to be a logical approach and did a Google search for “gestural Freudian slip.” The search results were not very helpful. There was a random smattering of topics including George Bush, some Second Life thing, and a few blogs. I did a bit of actual research and, apparently, a gesture falls within the traditional definition of Freudian slip.

But what about the oh-so-much cleverer term Freudian grip? Surely the genius of the phrase should not be lost to the world! So, on a lark, I did a Google search of Freudian grip. Much to my surprise, results abounded for the term I thought we had just created! The results included some highly suggestive photos, a comic art piece, and several results related to Freud. But not Mr. Sigmund Freud! In a dramatic twist, I came to find many of the results relating to Freudian grip led to figurative painter Lucian Freud, one of Sigmund’s grandsons. I drew some relief in noting that none of the results exhibited the connotation or definition of our invention. But still, Freudian grip was clearly nothing new.

This information chasing led me to realize how hard it is to be original in an age where so much knowledge is so easily accessed. How does the ease of accessing information affect our modern conceptions of originality? Am I any less original or creative for having thought of something on my own if it has already been conceived?

At any rate, next time you quite unknowingly find your hand nudging an unseemly bodily nook or cranny call it what it is: a Freudian grip.

Zadie Smith's The Autograph Man: A Novel

So, a major impetus behind the creation of this blog was to have a means to make public what I consider to be valid and thoughtful opinions on books. I see my book posts occurring in two ways: 1) converting written records of books previously read to this online format and 2) conveying my thoughts of books I have recently finished.

This first book post is dedicated to the novel I last finished: Zadie Smith's The Autograph Man. Ms. Smith is a highly talented author. I delighted in her prose and found her descriptions both unique and imaginative. I also appreciated the topic of her novel. The quirky protagonist, Alex-Li Tandem, deals in the autograph trade and is a well-developed character. Some of his bumbling cluelessness reminded me of Ignatius J. Reilly from Confederacy of Dunces, though I cannot put my finger on why, and the books are nothing alike. While I loathed some of Alex-Li's more unsavory decisions, I came to appreciate his good intentions and became invested in his struggle to deal with his reality--a reality he clearly tries to escape through his preoccupation with Hollywood and the movies he watches over and over again that star his favorite actress.

Ms. Smith is most noted for her first novel White Teeth, for which she won several awards and accolades. You may wonder why I did not read that work, and the explanation is quite simple. I stumbled across The Autograph Man at Changing Hands, the wonderful bookstore I frequent. It was a hardcover book for $7.50 and I couldn't resist! Such a fantastic author cannot just have her book abandoned on the sale shelf! The book needed to have a home! (I have a book buying problem so serious I refer to it as book rescuing . . . but more on that later.)

RECOMMENDED: Yes

NEXT READ: Gail Carriger's Soulless

REREAD: Roald Dahl's Matilda


Smith, Zadie. The Autograph Man: A Novel. New York: 
     Random House, 2002.

An Unbearable Facebook Status

A shameless pun? Indeed!

This Facebook status was forwarded to me yesterday and my editing instincts immediately kicked in, so bear with me (oh, yes, another pun).



Though I am not Facebook friends with this particular bear lover, I hoped against hope that his or her mauling of the English language was a result of extreme emotional duress. Surely, the terrible spelling and lack of punctuation is due to some tragedy beyond the realm of any imagination! But what terrible event could inspire such egregious errors and senseless abuse of words?

I put my Google search skills to use! The result? I can only assume that the tragic Facebook status is based on two news articles. The first, from May 29, 2010, is entitled "Bear helping himself to chicken coop gets shot." The second, from May 31, 2010, is entitled "Backpacker shoots, kills grizzly in Denali National Park." But the plot thickens! There appears to have been a third bear death on June 1, 2010. Who knows what poorly authored response the moving news piece "Dog intervenes in grizzly attack, but bear is eventually shot" will elicit from our bear-adoring Facebook friend.

Disclaimer: Though this post is jocular in nature, I am poking fun at the ineptly articulated response to the bear deaths. I would never use the actual deaths of the bears as fodder for my wit. If you'd like to see the articles for yourself, they can all be found on the Anchorage Daily News website: adn.com.

Special thanks goes to Ms. Rehfeldt for this contribution.

Blog the First

Well, friends, today is the day. Today is the day I give the world my first blog entry. As a longtime resident of the Twittersphere, I have decided it is time to delve into the blogosphere. I have already exceeded 140 characters, and I feel like a rebel!

I am a simple creature, with simple tastes. I like my books (well-edited, of course) and I like the people in my life, who indulge my bookish ways. But, you may ask, why am I starting this blog now? I admit, it has taken me awhile to get on the blogwagon. This is mostly due to the last three years of my life spent juggling an English master's program, a Scholarly Publishing Certificate program, tutoring a fourteen-year-old in English and writing, freelance editorial work, working at various jobs and internships, volunteering at an organization that records books for the blind and dyslexic (RFBandD), presenting papers at academic conferences, and, in any remaining free time, reading for pleasure and sleeping. Why all the free time now? Well, despite what I consider being extremely qualified, I have had little luck in getting a job. More precisely, I have had no luck getting publishers to hire me as an editorial assistant so I can work towards the real goal: being an acquisitions editor. More on that later, because I suspect jobless woes may contribute content to this blog to some degree.

Besides being a highly qualified, vivacious, young lass not being able to secure a publishing job, what else do I anticipate this blog to bring? Well, it will have a lot about books. The books I am reading, the books I have read, and the books I want to read. I find it difficult to read as anything but a critical thinker, so I will likely defy the popular opinion on books. I have two English degrees under my belt, so, to put it simply: I read a lot and expect a lot. I will also regale you with the calamities and adventures freelance editing brings. I am an avid traveler, so await tales of foreign lands! My next trip is in July, when I find myself traveling to Israel and Egypt. And, due to semi-popular demand, I will, from time to time, harness my inner snarkiness to ruthlessly judge and possibly mock egregious errors of the typographical, grammatical, and spelling variety.