Book Reviews! (but Not of My Books)

“You’re right. No human being would stack books like this.”

For those not in the know, I’m on Goodreads. It’s true! Check out my Contact page! But I’m not just giving away books there (oh Danger Peak Goodreads giveaways, those were the days), I’m also reading and reviewing books! Why? Honestly, writing these little “book reports” has made me feel like a kid again, and anything that does that is a good thing in my book (pun definitely intended). Here in no order is an assortment of random reviews I’ve written over the past year, with a star rating (out of 5) assigned to each book. As the kids on the Internet say, your mileage may vary.

Gamemaster Classified: An Insider’s Guide to Nintendo’s Coming of Age by Howard Phillips and Matthew Taranto (5 out of 5 stars)

I was such a huge fan of Nintendo Power—and, by extension, Nintendo—when I was a kid that I had a subscription for several years and even owned the first issue, the cover of which is modeled for this book’s. Over 30 years later, I would even include several references to this magazine in my ‘80s-set novel Danger Peak (Plug!). But one thing has been gnawing at me since those halcyon days of memorizing cheat codes and reading Nester comics: why did Howard Phillips, the self-proclaimed gamemaster and ostensible star of the mag (alongside the aforementioned Nester), leave Nintendo—and, by extension, Nintendo Power? (See what I did there?) At the time, Nintendo was not only the biggest videogame company in the world, it was one of the biggest companies, period. (I guess not much has changed.) Was he pushed out? Was it a case of too-much, too-soon for the youngish former warehouse manager and game tester? I had no idea how much these questions were bugging me until I saw this book on Kickstarter. In a way, I felt like an abandoned child (there is a strange sort of bonding between a reader and the writer, especially when you’re reading his personal thoughts in diary-like entries, as Howard’s were in Nintendo Power), so I immediately helped fund the book to find the answers.

While you don’t get too much information on Howard’s departure (it’s mostly explained in a two-paged write-up; long story short: he felt like Nintendo was just using him as a marketing tool—and I use that word in both senses), the rest of the book more than makes up for it by perfectly capturing that ‘80s nostalgia sweet spot—and this is coming from someone who wrote a novel filled with ‘80s references, so I know what I’m talking about. The book itself is formatted like an old Nintendo Power, with similar department names, fonts, and gorgeously rendered, old-school art by Matthew Taranto, whose opinions on the old games I seem to agree with more than Howard’s. I even learned some new gamer terminology, like shmups (shorthand for “shoot-‘em-ups”), button-mashers (games that require the player to tap the buttons as quickly as possible), and no-blink-twitch games (games that require intense concentration from the player to memorize opponents’ patterns, like the classic “Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!!”). On a personal note, I enjoyed the inclusion of the 1990 Nintendo World Championships, which I attended with my two best friends in New York City. (I still own the program!) The book makes a very insightful point about it possibly being the first e-sports competition ever held; I never viewed it that way before, but I guess that’s true!

Overall, this book is a dream come true for diehard NES-heads (is that even a term?) like myself. It made me want to fire up the old console and play a game of “Duck Hunt.” It’s just too bad we can’t shoot the dog that laughs at you, like you can in the arcade version (another factoid I learned from this brilliant book).

P.S.: I’m in the book! (sorta) Taranto was nice enough to immortalize the people who funded this book by including their names and favorite games in the index. Truth be told, “Castlevania” was my favorite NES game, but I chose “Excitebike” because I wanted a cross-promotion for my book Danger Peak. (Last plug!)

Bossypants by Tina Fey (5 out of 5 stars)

I don’t know why it took me so long to read Tiny Fey’s hilarious memoir Bossypants, but I’m glad I did. It might have something to do with the fact that, to this day, I still haven’t seen a full episode of 30 Rock, only clips online (“Werewolf bar mitzvah…spooky scary!”), but after reading this book, I should rectify that right away. I loved Fey’s tenure on Saturday Night Live though (especially her epic takedown of Sarah “I-can-see-Russia-from-my-house” Palin), and there was a time I had a bit of a crush on her (Fey, not Palin). What can I say? I have a thing for smart brunettes in glasses.

Even if you know nothing about Fey, you can tell her style was honed by years in the trenches of writing for television comedy, where every line has to either be a joke or a setup to one. The only similar writing I’ve done was for a short, fake movie script for a comedy website, where the webmaster basically told me, “Okay, thanks” after posting my submission, and then I never heard from him again, despite having two more scripts ready to go. Oh well. Those are the breaks!

My favorite part, naturally, was the behind-the-scenes stuff at SNL, because I’ve been a devoted fan of the show since the early ‘90s when Chris Farley played a motivational speaker who lived “in a van down by the river.” I especially enjoyed the anecdote when Amy Poehler told Jimmy Fallon she didn’t care if he didn’t like what she was doing, mostly because I’ve always thought Fallon was overrated. (How many times did he ruin a sketch by breaking?) I still can’t believe he’s the host of The Tonight Show. He’s more handsome than funny. But I digress.

Reading her (partial) life story, I was amazed at how much Fey has accomplished in her relatively short life. Someone else endlessly listing their achievements would become tiresome and obnoxious (not to mention boring), but Fey gets away with it because of her self-deprecating, tongue-in-cheek writing style and sense of humor. For example, in the space of one weekend alone, Fey recorded an episode of 30 Rock with Oprah, debuted her Sarah Palin impression on SNL, and celebrated her daughter’s third birthday; Fey mentions the birthday party was the highlight. It also illustrates a point I’ve often made about how life is either everything or nothing. In other words, you either have a million things going on, or you can’t get arrested. But I digress again.

Working as an editor by day (and frustrated writer by night), I always look for things to cut, and if I was the book’s editor, I would omit the chapter on beauty tips (or at least shorten it), where Fey pretty much tells the same joke over and over again about how unrealistic society’s beauty standards are and have always been—especially for women. (It was also one of the longest chapters in the book.) But this is nitpicking. (I told you I’m an editor!)

If you still haven’t read this book, don’t be like me and wait 12 years. Pick it up and laugh. You won’t regret it. 

The World’s Worst Assistant by Sona Movsesian (3 out of 5 stars)

I don’t know what I was expecting with a book titled The World’s Worst Assistant, but I’ve always been a fan of Conan O’Brien and, more recently, his podcast “Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend,” and Sona Movsesian is obviously a huge part of Conan’s world, particularly his podcast. It’s just frustrating that, as a struggling writer, I spent years crafting my original novel, getting it beta tested, etc., and then when it’s finally published, it sells a fraction of this “memoir” full of life hacks on how to do the least amount of work possible at your job. Also, the book is full of filler, and if you think I’m exaggerating, the “author” comes right out and tells you it’s filler by purposefully making the font of the text larger in one section to get it to book-length.

It’s telling that the best part of this book is the Foreword penned by O’Brien himself, but to Sona’s credit, she admits that right out of the gate, telling her readers that the book will be a letdown from there, and she isn’t completely wrong. The funniest parts of this book are visual: the cartoons and photographs scattered throughout. My favorite was the series of photographs taken from the documentary Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop where Sona is eating something in literally every photograph, usually with a face full of rapturous pleasure. I give her points for her self-awareness and self-deprecation, two characteristics she obviously learned from her boss and mentor.

The funniest part of the book that was written (in other words, not visual) was her recounting the four worst dates she ever went on—and all were with the same guy, though, IMO, the last date wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the first three. It makes you wonder why this dude earned a second date let alone three more, but again, Sona is self-aware enough to know what a terrible decision this was. The next funniest text of the book was a group of real email exchanges between Conan and Sona, but of course, Conan has all the best lines. Sorry Sona, but you’re no match for Conan’s Harvard-trained wit.

So, to recommend this book or not? If you’re a huge fan of Conan’s podcast, particularly his banter with Sona, I suppose it’s worth a read, but if you’re only a casual fan, I would skip it, though I can’t imagine a casual fan of Conan and his world would consider picking up this book. However, I did read a review of someone saying they felt bad for Sona’s boss, “whoever he is.” I sure hope the reviewer was kidding.

Carrie by Stephen King (4 out of 5 stars)

This is the rare example of the movie being better than the book. This is King’s first novel, and it shows. Not only is it not as polished as the rest of his oeuvre (yes, I just used the word “oeuvre”), but he fills the story with excerpts from various newspapers, magazines, and books, which serves to not only interrupt the narrative but give away the ending. I realize everyone knows the ending to this story by now, but imagine if this book just came out, and a few pages in, there’s a magazine excerpt that essentially says (SPOILER ALERT!), “Let me explain how everyone dies at the end.” This removes the suspense of the story, but it does add an extra layer of tragedy: the inevitability that almost everyone in the book is doomed. I admit this is an original way to write a novel, but it makes you wish King had just trusted his story enough to tell it straight.

If you take out all the various newspaper/magazine clippings, the book would be half as long, and it’s short enough as it is. The copy I read is less than 200 pages, nowhere near the length of King’s later epics like It. (I actually enjoyed that aspect since I tend to run out of patience with a book when it hits the 400-page mark.) I also found Carrie herself less sympathetic in the book versus the movie. There are many asides in the book of how much she hates her classmates, and I don’t remember that being in the movie, though I could be wrong. (It’s been years since I’ve seen it.) The reason I’m still giving this book 4 stars is because the story of a troubled, bullied girl with a religious zealot of a mother who gets bloody revenge on her classmates at their prom using telekinesis is such a brilliant idea, and of course, King would go on to have a legendary career full of them.

Life Itself by Roger Ebert (3 out of 5 stars)

I really wanted to love this book. After all, Roger Ebert is not only my favorite film critic (as is most people’s) but one of my favorite writers of all time. Alas, when writing an autobiography, one is limited by the subject, and truth be told, before he became a famous critic, Ebert’s life wasn’t all that exciting. I’m afraid I have to agree with most negative reviews of this book that the first half is extremely difficult to get through. Ebert goes into such insane detail of his early life, it’s almost impressive. Who remembers the name of their college roommate’s cousin’s dog? (I’m only slightly exaggerating here.) There is so much intricate minutiae of the people he met and places he visited in the first several decades of his life, it’s downright awe-inspiring. On the plus side, what a memory! For everyone else, however, it’s incredibly boring. Let’s put it this way: If you were ever curious as to the exact contents of his apartment when he was studying abroad in South Africa, you’re in luck. (Here, I am not exaggerating.) To read this book is to suffer an endless listing of proper nouns: names of people and places I’m never going to meet or visit. There were a few times I had to ask myself, “Should I be taking notes?”

Luckily, the book picks up, as expected, when he gets to the more celebrated part of his life: becoming a world-famous film critic and hosting At the Movies with his late, great sparring partner, Gene Siskel. Their show was appointment viewing for me growing up in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. While everyone else was goofing off with friends or going on dates Saturday nights, I was rushing home from church (after a brief pit stop at Taco Bell for dinner) to catch their show. But again, disappointment hit when I discovered how much (or, more accurately, how little) is written about this part of his life. In a book spanning over 400 pages, Ebert devotes 12 measly pages to Siskel. (He wrote more pages for a Robert Mitchum interview.) What an insult! Was it intentional? I hope not. I know these guys had a love-hate relationship, but if I was primarily known for being the cohost of a T.V. show, I would spend more than one chapter out of 55 writing about it. Also, the chapter begins on page 312 with only 100 pages left in the book. Again, was this an oversight? Maybe the next chapter, titled “Jugular,” explains the lack of Siskel content, since this chapter lists a few insults Siskel lodged at Ebert’s weight. Sample line (while handing Ebert his cell phone): “Phone for you, Rog. Your shoes are calling.” And while I’m complaining, I could have done without the chapters devoted to interviewing Mitchum, Lee Marvin, John Wayne, Werner Herzog, and Woody Allen. (Is this an autobiography or a compilation?)

There are a few surprises I learned. For example, Ebert never intended to become a film critic. His original goal was to become a newspaper columnist and then, “naturally,” a novelist. (Does this mean I beat Ebert at his own game? I kid.) Also, his life seems to have been shaped by sheer luck more than anything else, and Ebert himself would probably be the first to admit this. He became the film critic for the Chicago Sun-Times simply because the former critic decided to retire early, and her editor happened to be his friend.

Overall though, the word that kept coming to my mind while reading Life Itself was “disappointment.” I don’t mean to dump on Ebert, as he has passed on as well, but you’d be better served seeing the documentary based on this book or even reading one of his many, many brilliant reviews. A writer must tell the truth, and my truth is that this book is probably not worth your time. If, after reading my review, you feel you MUST still read it, I would skip to the chapters on Siskel and the talk shows and then read the last few chapters where Ebert contemplates life and the meaning of it all following his illness. There. I just saved you hundreds of pages reciting proper nouns of people and places.

P.S.: I agree with the critic who found it odd that there’s an “About the Author” section at the end of this book, considering it’s an autobiography, but I’ll do the reviewer one better: Ebert himself is an entry in the Index of his own autobiography. Shouldn’t this entry point to every single page in the book?

Waxing On: The Karate Kid and Me by Ralph Macchio (5 out of 5 stars)

This book was a joy to read. (Patton Oswalt’s affirmation on the back cover is right: “This memoir will put you in the best mood.”) I flew through it in a week, and that is high praise for me since it usually takes me much longer to read a book, but I couldn’t wait to revisit all the inside stories of one of my favorite movies of all time. If you’re as much of a Karate Kid fan as I am, this book is a MUST READ. You’ll learn all the interesting behind-the-scenes tidbits, including the first times Macchio met Pat Morita and Elisabeth Shue (she’s called “Lisa” by everyone in the book), how Daniel managed to catch that fly with his chopsticks in an era before CGI, how the famous crane kick came to be (the original incarnation was basically impossible to perform without clunky wires), and the creation of the immensely popular Netflix series Cobra Kai. As a local “Lawn Guy Land” boy myself, I appreciated all the Long Island shout-outs, including Macchio riding the Babylon LIRR train to his first audition for the movie (a train I used to take all the time) and LI’s own Golf N Stuff, Adventureland in Farmingdale, a place I basically grew up in and return to every summer with my kids. Still, you don’t have to be from New York to appreciate this tale of a scrappy young actor (well, he WAS in his 20s) overcoming the odds just like his iconic character and not only winning this role but staying humble, positive, and drug-free throughout his entire career. He’s even still married to the same woman he’s been with since the mid-‘80s. Whatta guy! If I had to nitpick something, I would’ve omitted all the asides when Macchio writes, “As I’ll explain in the next chapter…” or, “As I wrote in the last chapter…,” but that’s the editor in me, since I’m literally an editor in New York City. Also, there were a few pages where all the text was completely bold for some reason, but that’s a printing error and not Macchio’s fault. Other than that, I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Take a trip back to the ‘80s and read it. Miyagi-do forever!

Batman ’89 by Sam Hamm and Joe Quinones (5 out of 5 stars)

Batman ’89 is the Batman 3 we deserved, not those terrible Joel Schumacher films we got, where Tommy Lee Jones tried to out-mug mid-’90s, peak Jim Carrey (an impossible task). Tim Burton’s Batman was my favorite movie growing up, and I was always disappointed that we never got to see Billy Dee Williams’ Harvey Dent become Two Face, so seeing this graphic novel come out (compiling six previous comics) was a dream come true. The story is penned by Sam Hamm, the screenwriter of the first Batman and story writer of Batman Returns, and it does not disappoint. In fact, I’d say it was better and far deeper than I was expecting, having Two Face represent the “two sides of Gotham”: the poor side mostly populated by black and brown people like Dent himself and the rich/white side that certain Gothamites claim Dent sold his soul to. The moral complexity of the characters and dark themes even made me think of Christopher Nolan’s Batman films. On top of this, Michelle Pfeiffer’s Catwoman makes a delicious return (remember, she had “one life left” at the end of Batman Returns) and erases the kitty litter memory of Halle Berry’s atrocious Catwoman movie. We also get the Burton-verse version of Robin, who was originally supposed to be played by Marlon Wayans. This may be the first time I haven’t thought of Robin as a corny character. My only complaint (and without giving too much away) is that there is a two-page sequence towards the end involving Two Face’s fate, and I can’t for the life of me make heads or tails of it (no pun intended). I’ve read it from top to bottom and from left to right, but either way, the sequence of events in the panels doesn’t make sense. (Maybe my book is missing a page?) It left a sour taste in my mouth because it’s such an important scene, but it wasn’t enough to not make me love this stroll down 1989. Flipping through the pages, I could hear Danny Elfman’s famous score in my mind. You will, too. (Final note: Using the image of an old VHS tape as the inside front and back covers was an ingenious touch.)

Armada by Ernest Cline (3 out of 5 stars)

Armada by Ernest Cline should’ve been titled Pop-Culture Reference: The Book. Almost every page has a reference to pop culture of some kind, the most egregious example for me being when the main character asks two different characters how they managed to defeat the aliens in a particular skirmish, and instead of explaining their battle strategy, they each answered in turn, “It takes two to make a thing go right,” and then, “It takes two to make it out of sight.” I literally rolled my eyes at that point. Look, I love a good pop-culture reference as much as the next guy, especially ones from the ‘80s (my first novel Danger Peak is filled with them), but when every character speaks the same way—the main character, his friends, his boss, his would-be girlfriend, his father, even his mother—they all start to sound like the same person, which, in a way, is what they are, because that person is Ernest Cline himself. Somewhat more irritatingly, sometimes Cline gets the pop-culture references wrong, like when one character sings the Brady Bunch theme song, and he starts, “This is the story…” Even I know the song begins, “Here’s the story…,” and I’m not a fan of that show.

I didn’t mind all the references in Cline’s debut novel Ready Player One (and, to a lesser extent, its sequel, Ready Player Two) because they were an intrinsic part of the plot: treasure seekers were competing in an Easter egg hunt, and all the clues were related to pop culture of the last few decades of the 20th Century. In other words, the references made sense. In Armada, they just seem lazy, as if Cline threw a dart at a board filled with random references to the ‘70s and ‘80s (and occasionally ‘90s) whenever he needed someone to make an analogy to something.

As for this book’s plot, it’s The Last Starfighter. Seriously. A teenaged arcade game ace (along with several others) are recruited to fight an alien menace using the skills they acquired playing their favorite video games. At least Cline is savvy enough to mention this movie as an inspiration, along with Flight of the Navigator, Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and even Guardians of the Galaxy. (The main character listens to a mix tape filled with old rock songs left behind by his departed parent.)

If I sound so down on this book, why the relatively high 3-star rating? Well, the alien battle scenes, when Cline gets around to them, are really fun and vividly written. Also, I thought it was quite original (and logical) to have the human fighters pilot drones to attack the alien armada, so that no humans were actually inside the ships. This added to the fun of the battle scenes, because you know there weren’t as many casualties when a ship blew up. I guess Cline took a cue from the old G.I. Joe cartoon where multiple vehicles would explode, but no one ever died. (Uh-oh, I made a pop-culture reference!)

TLDR: This book is strictly for die-hard Cline fans—and fans of incessant pop-culture namedropping.

MTP

P.S.: Next week’s blog: My Latest (and Longest?) Podcast Interview

P.P.S.: Déjà View is now available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble:

AmazonBarnes & Noble