Mostly Harmless

Stardust
Neil Gaiman
1999, 250 pages

So Stardust is sort of like The Princess Bride but not quite. If I had read these two books at similar times, they would be fighting for supremacy in my heart, but alas, it’s not to be. I am old and married and that special place in my heart that used to be filled with fairy tale love interests has been filled up with the awesome things my Alan does for me on a daily basis. And Westley from the Princess Bride cause he’s just that awesome. But I digress. Let me tell you about this Neil Gaiman book I read.

Tristran Thorn is half mortal and half… well, I’m not really sure. Let’s say semi-magical fairy man. He lives in the human town of Wall, and he loves Victoria something or other. He is trying to get her to fall in love with him when she says that she will do so only if he catches the falling star that fell off on the other side of the Wall. But the wall is magical and is a gateway to the land of fairies and pixies and witches and all sorts of other whimsical and wonderful things. He sets off on an epic adventure, being helped along the way by strange creatures, and eventually catching up with the fallen star, who doesn’t really like him. But this is a love story, so the eventually fall in love, and there’s a unicorn fighting a bear or something, and everyone wants the star because stars are awesome or something. You’d think I’d be able to remember details, but I really can’t. I do remember it was all very wonderful and magical and charming.

So, here’s my roundup of this book: I love Neil Gaiman’s writing. If he wrote the menu at Starbucks, I’d have to get myself a copy. Therefore, I’m not very unbiased. I’m going to like this book, and I did. I thought it was a kid’s book until the sex and cursing started, and it made me happy that it wasn’t. It definitely falls into the same category of book as The Princess Bride, and like I said before, in another lifetime they could have been contenders.

Alas.

For those of you who have been following along, I have reviewed seven books today. I didn’t finish all of them today. It’s been a while since I went through my reading list, and though some of these reviews were half-assed, they’re now off my to-do list, and that makes me supremely happy.

Dance Dance Dance
Haruki Murakami
1988, 393 pages

Ok, so usually at the beginning of my reviews I tell you what a book’s about. Here’s the problem: I’m not really sure what the hell happened in this book. All I know is that it was awesome. Like, what was it with that guy in the sheepskin? And the crazy hotel? And how was everyone intrinsically linked to the dead hooker? And how in the end, is this book really just a super-convoluted love story?

None of it makes sense, and it does so in the most wonderful possible way. It is an assault on one’s common sense, and I loved every second of it. Except the dead hooker stuff. The other dead people were okay though.

When I finished this book, I hit Alan with it and asked him how it was possible that he allowed me to live to twenty seven years of age without reading one of Murakami’s books, and he pouted a little bit, because he’s often encouraged me to read some of his works. I immediately went out and picked up Murakami’s most famout work, Norwegian Wood