The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

For whatever reason, I had the impression that "The Picture of Dorian Gray" was going to be yet another closely written Victorian novel delving into the inner lives of the poor rich. And, actually, it is, but it's also a fantasy, a science fiction folly -- and that, I didn't expect. Dorian Gray is an unbelievably handsome gentleman who makes a deal with the devil. His portrait, instead of his face, shows the effects of age and a decadent lifestyle. The freedom this gives him sends him spiraling into evil behavior and corruption, which Wilde illustrates with admirable literary aplomb. I don't know how Wilde could stand himself, the way he can turn a phrase is mind-boggling. The book is short, sweet and fantastic.

The Last Samurai, Helen DeWitt

Ludo is four when we meet him. He has all the usual foibles of someone that age - when he wants something, he wants it NOW. He has no volume control, and he's stubbornly insistent on bringing along favorite objects when he leaves the house. What Ludo wants to bring along in the stroller is a massive Homeric dictionary, so that he can look things up while he reads the Odyssey. He's reading the Odyssey because his mother Sibylla has said that she won't teach him Japanese until he's finished it. Sometimes Sibylla tells the story, sometimes Ludo, as the two negotiate raising a genius on the minimal wage Sibylla earns from typing in old issues of magazines. As he grows older, Ludo's learning outstrips his mother's not inconsiderable mental skills, and he turns his mind to solving the puzzle of who his father is, influenced heavily by the strategic skills he learns from The Seven Samurai, a movie his mother watches incessantly. This book is a joy to read, absorbing, fascinating and unpredictable. Its characters, even the peripheral ones, are intricately sketched in and DeWitt's writing throughout pushes you onward to a finish that is satisfying in every way, except that the book is then over.

American Psycho, Brent Easton Ellis

i've read american psycho before, and i rarely reread books, so this was unusual for me. or maybe not, i've been on a rereading kick lately. anyway, ellis's book is just as appalling now as it was when i first read it four years ago. the writing is amazing. pat bateman works on wall street, though family money means he doesn't really need to. he worries obsessively over his clothes (some of the most revolting parts of the book are the litanous descriptions of everyone's attire, which you come to understand are deathly serious issues for this place and time), hair and accessories. we see the world through pat's eyes, and the materialistic '80s never looked worse. pat's group of "friends" are equally as fried and fucked up; their conversations are characterized by non sequitors that make it clear no one is actually listening to anyone else, or often don't even know who they are talking to. bizarre takes a turn for horror when pat loses it one night and attacks a homeless man. we realize then that pat is a serial murderer, and the number of victims zooms upward - friends, girlfriends, prostitutes, a random child. pat is unmoved by his own brutality, making his descriptions of events entirely chilling. this is neither a book for the weak-hearted, nor is it simply a thriller. pat's random violence speaks for the attitudes of society as a whole, focusing your attention on the shallow venality of the day.

The Time-Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger

This book is so sad. Not slash-your-wrists-in-despair sad, but romantic sad. Henry DeTamble can time travel within his own life. Seems like a good thing, right? He visits himself and people he loves, people he's lost. He gives his younger self stock tips, knows things about the future and meets his future wife, age 6. But when he time travels, it's uncontrollably and unpredictably. He never knows when or where he'll go, and he can't take anything with him, so he's constantly leaving behind piles of empty clothing. And when he arrives wherever, whenever, he's naked and sick and lost. He materializes in front of moving cars, in winter snow, in water. It's a genetic mutation he can't prevent. But through his time traveling, he meets his wife Clare, who knows him most of his life -- and waits for him when he's not there. Sounds like science fiction, but it's really a love story.

The Dogs of Babel, Carolyn Parkhurst

I think I may need to add a new category to Unfavorablepink: books you shouldn't read while your spouse is out of town. "The Dogs of Babel" tells the story of Paul Iverson, whose wife Lexy Ransome (what a name!), is killed when she falls out of the apple tree in their back yard. Paul goes into an understandable tailspin trying to understand Lexy's death -- and life, as he finds "incongruities" around the house. Why did Lexy rearrange all the books in the house the day she died? Why was she climbing the apple tree, anyway? Paul eventually fixates on their dog, Lorelei, who was with Lexy that afternoon. If Lorelei could talk, could she explain why Lexy climbed the tree? Could she tell Paul whether Lexy committed suicide or just fell? Paul takes a sabbatical from his university professorship to teach Lorelei to talk. Things get a little bizarre from there. Parkhurst's book is sad and a little crazy, and it feels much too real when read late at night in a quiet house when your husband is 6000 miles away.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, Mark Haddon

Christopher John Francis Boone is autistic, a detective and an author. "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time" is a murder mystery written by Christopher after a neighborhood dog is killed with a gardening tool. Briefly suspected of the dastardly deed, Christopher sets out to discover what really happened, in the process unravelling the lives of his parents and neighbors. Haddon has written a piercing look at the inner life of an autistic child. Most interesting are Christopher's explanations of people's emotions, his understanding of social interactions and the way in which he experiences new places and people. Christopher leaps off the page with immediacy, alternately hilarious and heart-breaking.

City of Glass: Douglas Coupland's Vancouver, Douglas Coupland

admittedly, i'm a fan of the city, but coupland's vancouver is irresistable. his city is gritty enough to be a real place, but is also blessed with surreally beautiful scenary. the photo of the yellow sulfur piles against an intensely blue sky sums it all up -- industry in paradise. coupland hasn't written a travelogue here, but something more like a photo album with really great captions. he talks about vancouver's pot enterprises, its monorail, its transient population of ultra-hip japanese teens and the ubiquity of fleece. the photography is beautiful. this book is about flavor rather than museums and walking tours.

The Hemingway Book Club of Kosovo, Paula Huntley

These are selections from a journal Paula Huntley kept while teaching English in Kosovo in 1999, while her husband volunteered his legal expertise. There is so much thoughtful material to appreciate here -- Huntley's rose-tinted profiles of her students, her discomfort with America's role in Kosovo, the occasional funny moment of cultural misunderstanding, a look at a country most of us will never visit. Her faith in people is rewarded by her students' appreciation and efforts. Together, Huntley and her students read Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea, a book that becomes an expression of hope for the future of the students as individuals and for Kosovo as a country.

Mapping the Terrain: New Genre Public Art, Suzanne Lacy

I'll admit that not everyone is going to be as interested as I am in public art, but if you have even the slightest desire for a book on the subject, this should be the book. Lacy has edited together a group of essays written by any number of leading public artists, administrators and critics. The essays address emerging issues in the field of public art, largely from the viewpoint of those who are unsatisfied with the status quo in the field today. Of particular interest is the introduction by Lacy, and the article Mary Jane Jacob. The essays will be a bit jargony for newcomers, but nothing is that tough to figure out. I was most interested in the writers who addressed the changes in our ideas about what an artist does.

The Far Pavilions, M.M. Kaye

For whatever reason I feel faintly guilty about my pleasure in reading this book. That may perhaps be because it contains so many of those elements traditionally found in romance novels -- impossible love, exotic locations, foreign culture, corsets. For all that, The Far Pavilions went down like a satisfying dessert (with the added advantage that its length meant it could be savored for some time). I'd give a lot for a second helping. The Far Pavilions takes us from the birth in the Kashmiri mountains of our hero, Ash, an English boy that by chance is raised Indian woman. His Anglo origins are eventually discovered and as an adult he serves as a military officer, where he never quite feels either English or Indian. Though Ash's dilemma is fairly obvious, there are few of us that cannot identify with the story's theme of isolation, of being torn between two ideas and unable to fully identify with either. I love a long, absorbing read and a good story; The Far Pavilions is all these things.

Bel Canto, Ann Patchett

Bel Canto is a delicious read. It's an apple a day. It sings, the writing, the story and sometimes the characters. Bel Canto is the story of a hostage situation, which takes place in an unknown but presumably South American country. The hostages come from all over the world; they are captains of industry, scions of the aristocracy, leaders of government. Oh yes, and there is a world-famous opera singer, the sole female hostage with whom everyone -- hostages and captors alike -- is in love. An inevitably poignant plot is nonetheless beautifully written and developed. Most wonderfully, the book is infused with music, although you will never actually hear a note.

21 Dog Years: Doing Time @ Amazon.com, Mike Daisey

"21 Dog Years" is a laugh-out-loud look at the insanities of working for the web's biggest retailer in the early days of the dot-com boom. Daisey began his tenure with Amazon working in customer service, where even the lowliest temp worker obsessed hourly about the stock prices of the company. He takes a humorous tone, but doesn't sugarcoat his ultimate message, which is that the economic environment in the company was highly corrupting, superficial and self-centered from the lowest to the highest levels. "21 Dog Years" is a must-read for anyone interested in the evolution of the Internet economy, Amazon itself, or the nature of the Seattle job market.