Just one more sectional!

Click here for the entire bracket.

The What I’ve Been Reading Tournament of Books
Bracket Four:

The Name of the Rose – Umberto Eco
vs.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close – Jonathan Safran Foer

I took Umberto on as my first WIBR challenge. And a challenge it was – the Italian Stallion of Complicated Imagery nearly knocked me on my ass, what with his long, drawn out descriptions of mundane monastery life and theological discussions that sailed blissfully over my head. I wouldn’t say the book was difficult, but it was one of the harder books I’ve read in my 29 years.

Which I suppose means it was difficult.

Still, it was a gripping mystery, fueled by a monastery’s desire to protect one of the most precious collections of classic texts ever assembled. So it played to my literary side while still swashbuckling its way through my bookshelf.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close had a little bit of mystery itself, though it was served in much easier to digest tidbits. It has some precious moments, and it’s known more for being a post-9/11 book on post-9/11, but it’s still pretty clever and, for the most part, very very good.

Most of all, it wasn’t difficult. I didn’t feel a need to finish it because I had already started it. I just WANTED to finish it.

So, there you go. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

The Winner:
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close – Jonathan Safran Foer

Then We Came to the End – Joshua Ferris
vs.
Atonement – Ian McEwan

Never before has a book made me more green-eyed and red-faced jealous than Ferris’s Then We Came to the End. I mean, come on – the guy writes a book about life in a big city advertising agency, complete with mundane trivialities, account pitches and interoffice relationships – and makes it side-splittingly funny. He takes what’s usually seen as boring, soul-drenching environment and makes it memorable in a way no one else has before.

In other words, he wrote the book I wished I had written. From the view I wish I had. In the position I currently hold. He’s a copywriter who wrote a funny book that everyone loved. I’m blood-curdlingly jealous.

(I just made that word up. Blood-curdlingly.)

Atonement was one of the few period pieces I’ve actually liked, though it’s not as much a period piece as, say, the Austen canon. Yet, there are entire sections of the book that I barely remember. Whether this is because I read it too fast or because they were wholly unremarkable is hard to figure out.

The book gets extra marks for sending a mass of refugee soldiers down a long and burnt road toward the sea, foreshadowing Cormac McCarthy’s The Road in a grand and dramatic style, and for making me care about fountains and greenery and those other things best left in a Virginia Woolf novel.

Atonement is a better novel from a technical standpoint – beautifully written by one of today’s masters. So what if he lifted a line or two, right?

But Then We Came to the End is one of those rare books I want to go out and buy after reading it for free from the library. I think that counts for a lot more.

The Winner: Then We Came to the End – Joshua Ferris

Mirror of Ink – Jorge Luis Borge
vs.
Black Swan Green – David Mitchell

Jorge Luis Borge (whose name sounds like a nursery rhyme) is the master of magical realism, an expert at creating ideas that leave your mind reeling, thinking about what is real and what is our imagination. The stories in this book – the only entry from the Pocket Penguins 70th Anniversary Box Set – are the best of what I’ve come across, spanning the entire genre with tales of crucial lotteries and kingdoms of the blind and the like.

Unfortunately, it’s very short – 56 pages. It feels like a Borge primer, an opening stanza that was never quite finished. For this reason, I’ve never really held it in high esteem. Mirror of Ink is like an hors d’oeuvre; I need an entire collection of his stories, a full-out anthology, something with weight that I can read and enjoy until I am full.

Black Swan Green carried with it a sense of weight, though that weight was mainly made up of horrible memories and trying times throughout middle school, classically thought of as one of the most harrowing times in a young, unpopular boy’s life. That’s me, friends, and I took Mitchell’s account of fighting your way into the cool crowd as a guide to what should have been.

Borge is fantastic. So is Black Swan Green. When it comes down to it, Borge may be the more important author, with the better stories and better skill. But Black Swan Green was inspirational, if only in a bittersweet way, and it has the added benefit of being a little meatier.

The Winner:
Black Swan Green – David Mitchell

Deliver Me from Nowhere – Tennessee Jones
vs.
Like Life – Lorrie Moore

The last two books were, in some odd way, collections of short stories. Mirror of Ink was more of an excerpt – a small collection that spanned an entire career – while Black Swan Green was a series of short stories arranged in a chronological order, much like Melissa Bank’s The Wonder Spot.

Considering both Deliver Me from Nowhere and Like Life are both short story collections, we’ve managed to group nearly all of the great short fiction I’ve read over the past three years into one side of a bracket. No matter what, a short story collection will fight to represent Bracket 4 in the Final Four.

Should I actually talk about the books now?

There’s really no need. Like Life was a top 10 selection for the end of 2006. And Deliver Me From Nowhere wasn’t. The feeling still stands today.

Because while I love the idea of crafting a set of short stories based on the feeling and emotion of an album (in this case, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska) I just liked Lorrie Moore better.

No real reason. It’s hard to explain. Maybe I’m just a sucker for stories set in New York City. Maybe I like a slice of city life more than I like a slice of trailer park trash.

Or maybe I just liked it better. Let’s go with that.

The Winner:
Like Life – Lorrie Moore

This is the money bracket. When first doling out the books for the tournament, I saw five that could easily barrel through a bracket and guarantee a spot in the Final Four. However, when seeding was all said and done, four of them sat in the same bracket, with two of them facing each other in the first round.

I’d love to say that the winner of this bracket will win the whole thing – in fact, that might not be too far from the truth – but to keep the suspense at a maximum, I’ll let you know that probably won’t be the case. Hell – you never know how I’ll feel when the Final Four comes around.

Shall we battle? Of course.

Click here for the entire bracket.

The What I’ve Been Reading Tournament of Books
Bracket Three:

Travels with Charley – John Steinbeck
vs.
The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck

Tom Joad vs. Charley the dog. Or vs. Steinbeck himself, if you think about it. With three Steinbeck books making the tournament, it’s not surprising to see the grizzled old American legend facing himself at some point. I never thought it would happen this early, though.

Yet, here it is. The face-off that shouldn’t be, essentially boiling down to which era of Steinbeck I prefer more.

The Grapes of Wrath comes in with the handle of Great American Novel clearly affixed, a badge, a nameplate, the most recognizable (if not one of the most difficult) work of Steinbeck’s fiction. In addition, it’s got the benefit of being An Important Look at Life in America. This isn’t just a novel about some random characters. This is a novel about the country during its hardest times, a trip down history’s dusty lane.

On the other hand, we’ve got Travels with Charley. Like The Grapes of Wrath, it’s about America, but at a different time. Steinbeck and his dog (Charley plays a titular role, but little else) roll through America like a pair of nomadic hobos, living out of a trailer, searching for what Steinbeck calls The Real America. It’s not just a rambling lament of how things used to be, though – it’s a discovery, a love letter to the nation, like a snapshot of a favorite son after he had gone to college, grew up a bit and came back for Thanksgiving nearly unrecognizable.

The Grapes of Wrath is amazing – simply amazing. You finish the book and sit layered in dust and grime, with generations wandering by you looking for help. The book’s last image burns into your mind, as unforgettable as any. But Travels with Charley? It’s got something a little different. A nod toward a forgotten life. A friendly romp. The Grapes of Wrath is Important. Travels with Charley is essential.

As you’ll see in the next match-up, there’s no loser here. Just one better winner.

The Winner:
Travels with Charley – John Steinbeck

Gilead – Marilynn Robinson
vs.
Rabbit Angstrom – John Updike

The Grapes of Wrath was one of the books I thought had a shot at it all. It all just matters who you come up against, really. When comparing the two Steinbeck books against each other, Travels with Charley seemed more redeeming. More memorable. Ultimately a better favorite.

But now, we have two potential winners, facing off in the first round. This is a heavyweight title bout – Foreman vs. Ali, if you will. The loser is out too early. The winner faces what could be the greatest travel novel ever written in the second round.

So where do I go? What do I choose? In a different set up, these two could meet as the final pairing. Gilead is easily the most beautiful novel I’ve ever read. And Rabbit Angstrom isn’t just a novel – it’s a life, four decades of one man’s fight for the right to be whom he wants to be.

What wins? Beauty or life?

Let’s take a look. Gilead has an awkward, totally original and totally brilliant pace that actually forces you to read differently. You read slower than you might otherwise. You enjoy every word, the pacing mimicking the feelings of its 70-plus-old pastor author. And with that slower pace, you find yourself sinking into his life – his paranoia, his misfortune, his beautiful life and his outlook on theology and relationships and communications. He and his father move on through his flashbacks, he and his son move forward with little time left.

There is a nearly 70-year gap between father and son. John Amos re-married late, conceived late, and now, because of his short amount of time, he is writing everything down in a notebook. He is writing everything for his son – a son he’ll never see grow up – and his wife, who he barely understand yet loves with everything he has.

As the relationships intertwine, you find yourself hoping things work out. You find yourself struggling to understand how things could be so unfair – for both father and son – and you keep bracing yourself for the inevitable.

What about Rabbit Angstom, though? Here we have one man. One life. And at the same time, you have one nation. You have four decades of history. Each of the four books within Rabbit Angstrom illustrate how our nation can operate on both an idyllic and chaotic level at all times.

Each novel was written at the turn of the century. The late 50s find Rabbit at home, trying to understand domestic life and, ultimately, running away from it. The late 60s find him twisted up in the counterculture, an unwilling participant who can’t even get his own politics straight. The late 70s find him turning to 80s wealth with a fervor and purpose, and with the final book he gets ready to retire and rest, a heart attack waiting to happen, a spectator to the quickly changing pre-90s world.

The four books together make for an amazing case study into modern man. You see more than just the filth and promise of everyman – you see the internal thoughts and workings of our nation. Each book is a time capsule. Together, they play off of each other like a well seasoned ensemble cast.

This isn’t the most difficult decision I’ll make, but it’s certainly the first. Beauty? Or life? It’s too bad that these books had to face now. If a double-elimination tournament was formed, there’s a good chance that they’d meet again.

With no double-elimination, and a choice to be made, I have to go in a direction I’m sure I’ll regret in a few days. I’m enamored with beauty. But when it comes to great novels, I’ll always choose the character I remember over the prose I can’t forget.

The Winner:
Rabbit Angstrom – John Updike

You Shall Know Our Velocity! – Dave Eggers
vs.
Beowulf – Seamus Heaney

So say this match-up was based on something different. Not on how much I enjoyed the book or how strongly I hold dear the winner, but instead on how important it is in the general canon of published literature. Let’s say instead of young spirited writer vs. nameless bard remade by odd sounding translator, this match-up was work of non-descript fiction vs. the first and greatest epic poem ever written in the English Language. Sure, you had Homer, but this is Beowulf – THE Beowulf – a tome so resilient and long-lasting that not even alien CD effects and Angelina Jolie could kill it.

The battle would be a no-brainer. Beowulf would smite the upstart You Shall Know Our Velocity with its mighty sword, displaying its author’s head on a spike crafted from Elvin gold, circling the troops to eat roasted beast and drink spoiled mead until each warrior felt as if his own head was smoted. Or smited? Or smitled? Smote. Whatever.

Regardless of how valiant the weakling Eggers could withstand the onslaught of awkward names – HROTHGAR! GRENDEL! – he wouldn’t stand a chance. His legacy of maddening plot twists and short short stories would be cut, well, short. The epic poem would reign supreme, and, save a draining battle against Steinbeck, move ahead to the finals, stopping only to knock the head off of Harry Potter.

But, it’s not based on history. And while I enjoyed Beowulf, I enjoyed You Shall Know Our Velocity more. Sorry, canon of literature. Better luck next time.

The Winner: You Shall Know Our Velocity! – Dave Eggers

The Road – Cormac McCarthy
vs.
Special Topics in Calamity Physics – Marisha Pessl

Um. Duh.

The Winner: The Road – Cormac McCarthy

Upsets abound in the first round!

Oh, did you see what I did there? Rhyming abound as well!

Click here for the entire bracket.

The What I’ve Been Reading Tournament of Books
Bracket Two:

Fun Home – Alison Bechdel
vs.
The Whistling Season – Ivan Doig

Typically, I don’t find much to like in dusty prairie novels. For example, I was under-whelmed with My Antonia, reading it only because I was supposed to as part of the 2007 Sioux Falls Big Read. I’ll admit, it wasn’t horrible. But it certainly wasn’t something I’d read again – nothing I’d rush out to purchase and hand out to my friends with an insistence to read.

So you’d think Bechdel’s Fun Home – a graphic novel about a young girl and her father (both are gay, though one outing would lead to another) – would win out. It’s got big city aspirations. It’s all alternative lifestyle and literary references and life journeys and etc. Surely, The Whistling Season doesn’t stand a chance!

If this tournament had taken place the month after I had read Fun Home, you’d be right. I’d have brazenly chosen the book as one of the greatest and moved it along through the rounds, probably until it came to a close loss against Steinbeck or Lethem or the Rabbit chronicles.

But the tournament didn’t. And Fun Home won’t. Because, you see, The Whistling Season isn’t just any dusty prairie novel. It’s a great novel with great characters and some great twists. There’s a little coming of age, and there’s a little hidden identity brought to light, but most of all there’s a huge amount of folksy wordplay that could be at home anywhere – not just in a one-room schoolhouse, and definitely not just in some amber waves of grain.

More than anything, this match-up shows the importance of a memorable book. It shows how fly-by-night, clever pieces of literature might take my breath away for a short amount of time, but how the books that leave a mark long after the fact are the ones I’ll hold more dear.

I liked Fun Home. But I can’t remember it. It was good, but not memorable. The Whistling Season? Now that’s a book I can remember.

The Winner: The Whistling Season – Ivan Doig

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – J.K. Rowling
vs.
The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint Exupéry

When I devised the WIBR tournament, Kerrie asked me specifically about this matchup – an ill-fated pairing of the only two children’s books on my list. Which was I going to pick, she wanted to know. How would I make my decision?

It was easy to find things to like in both books’ favor. The Little Prince touches upon a strong set of values – acceptance, patience, treating people as if you wish to be treated. Most of all, it’s about friendship, and how friends can manifest themselves where you least expect it.

The illustrations represent the scratchings of youthful wonder, even though they were constructed by a World War II French pilot. The story is simple, yet strong and complex in its lessons. The Little Prince himself becomes an indelible figure in your mind – a real hero, someone that even a jaded late-20s reader can look up to. It’s a very solid little book.

Now I’ve made no secret in calling J.K. Rowling the most important author of our generation. So The Little Prince has a lot to beat. But Kerrie helped me through this matchup with a great point: I’m judging Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I’m not judging the entire Harry Potter series; just the final novel in that series – probably the most important, but certainly not the best.

So while I loved reading through the entire series, I struggle with admitting that the seventh and final book alone is strong enough to battle another classic.

Then, one last thing hit me.

When Kerrie was pregnant, I read one book – and one book only – to Sierra in the womb. The Little Prince.

And when things are put in that perspective, the choice is pretty easy.

The Winner: The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint Exupéry

East of Eden – John Steinbeck
vs.
Other Electricities – Ander Monson

Let’s be honest – and brief. Ander Monson’s Other Electricities was a fun book – a look at Twin Peaks if Twin Peaks had been written by a guy obsessed with frozen lakes and distant, tundra-laden high school life. I really enjoyed it.

But come on. East of Eden is, well, East of Eden.

The Winner: East of Eden – John Steinbeck

Feet on the Street: Ramblings Around New Orleans – Roy Blount Jr.
vs.
The Final Solution – Michael Chabon

Oh. Good. The battle of “books that get to lose to East of Eden in the next round.”

Wait. That’s not fair. I’m sorry, Roy Blount and Michael Chabon. I owe you both more than that.

I mean, look at you, Roy. You’re sitting there writing about New Orleans – the very city where Kerrie and I enjoyed our honeymoon – and you’re one of my favorites on Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me. You’ve got a brilliant sense of humor. You introduced the word “lagniappe” into my daily lexicon. (Though, after writing that sentence, I can’t help but wonder who introduced the word “lexicon” into my lexicon.)

On the other hand, Michael, you gave me a fun little Sherlock Holmes-like mystery with a pretty cool little ending.

Is that all I can say?

I guess the hard thing about this match-up is knowing both that the winner is probably going along to be slaughtered by my favorite book from one of my favorite authors and that both books were short, easy reads near the beginning of the What I’ve Been Reading columns. In fact, I believe both were reviewed during my first month. (After a quick fact check, the answer is “Yes!”)

So all I can do is offer one up for the slaughter. Ladies and gentlemen, your first sacrificial lamb.

The Winner: Feet on the Street: Ramblings around New Orleans – Roy Blount Jr.