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BOOK
Dave Eggers, Sarah Manguso, and Deb Olin Unferth: One Hundred and Forty-Five Stories in a Small Box
(McSweeney’s)

This gorgeous set of short-short fiction features three small books packaged in an elegant slipcase. OK, so it’s another McSweeney’s fetish object, but the stark, sharp stories are legit, and good writing can come in whimsical packages, as the San Francisco–based publisher has proven time and again. This trio is revisiting “flash fiction”—compact tales often as short as a sentence and no longer than a fistful of paragraphs. What’s surprising is how versatile the form can be. Deb Olin Unferth, who has been published in Harper’s and StoryQuarterly, uses prosaic scenarios to plumb the neuroses and anxieties of characters destined never to connect. Her stories are like fine line drawings; very little is revealed, yet nothing feels left out. The best-known of the three, McSweeney’s founder Dave Eggers, opts for quick, enigmatic feints that feel like byways to longer stories, but still satisfy thanks to his wicked wit. Poet Sarah Manguso’s book is a series of aphoristic childhood scenes sketched mostly in a few lines, and they skillfully reveal what it feels like to be awkward in your own skin, fumbling toward identity in the land of grownups. A handful of these tales are too precious and cutesy, but given the sheer number of pieces, that’s a pretty good batting average.  B+

MARC WEINGARTEN

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CD
THE DONNAS: BITCHIN’
(Purple Feather)

When the Donnas burst out of Palo Alto High in 1997, few could have imagined they’d stick around for the next 10 years. A teenage-girl version of the Ramones? How quaint. But the quartet has grown harder and more proficient over time, ditching its cute-punk roots for a hard-rock style based on the guitar heroics of AC/DC and Kiss. Recently, the Donnas tried out acoustic guitars and piano, but their seventh full-length effort ditches such experiments for the stomping, anthemic style of old. The
biggest difference is that the tunes are more complex and layered. Songs like “Better Off Dancing” and “Here for the Party” stitch together thick, serpentine guitar riffs, super-catchy choruses, euphoric vocals, and a clanging cowbell. “Save Me” borrows from the best dumb rock of the past 30 years, clipping bits from Ratt, Bon Jovi, and even Elton John. Echoes of Mötley Crüe and Joan Jett wind throughout the disc. Lyrically, the band doesn’t stray too far from its party-hearty past—“Gotta loosen up/ Drain the cup/It’s time to tear it up” is about as thoughtful as they get—but there are some surprisingly angsty moments, as when Brett Anderson moons after a boy on “What Do I Have to Do.” With Bitchin’,

the Donnas sound like they’re just getting started.  A
DAN STRACHOTA

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BOOK
Mark Schapiro: Exposed
(Chelsea Green)

From toys that can cause sexual mutations to lipstick that can fry your kidneys, we are “marinating in a chemical soup,” as Mark Schapiro puts it in this sobering book. What’s more, it’s all perfectly legal, at least under U.S. law. Schapiro, a veteran muckraker and the editorial director at Berkeley’s Center for Investigative Reporting, writes that under the leadership of the increasingly mighty European Union, countries from Brazil to South Korea are adopting strict safety standards and banning toxic products, while our laissez-faire leaders stonewall. That intransigence isn’t just endangering our health—it’s also hurting our bottom line. Without action, Schapiro argues, we risk becoming a second-tier economy, because the world won’t trust our exports; already, many countries refuse our genetically modified corn. We also risk becoming a dumping ground for unsafe products that don’t make the cut elsewhere. (The recent recalls of Chinese-made pet food, toys, and toothpaste may be a grim
portent.) While Exposed lacks the pop-culture sizzle of Fast Food Nation—the book is awash in technical acronyms, and much of it takes place in one governmental chamber or another—it’s every bit as illuminating. It wasn’t so long ago that we led the world in environmental protection. Now it’ll take a sea change
in Washington to get us back on track.  B+
CHRIS SMITH

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CD
Rogue Wave: Asleep at Heaven’s Gate
(Brushfire Records)

With the 2005 release of their sophomore album, Descended Like Vultures, which highlighted lead singer Zach Rogue’s Beatles-influenced melodies, Rogue Wave was marked the next indie-rock wonder, on par with the Shins. But then, drummer Pat Spurgeon had his second kidney transplant and Rogue became a father, and the four band members took a break from touring. On its third album—which sees the addition of bassist Patrick Abernethy, formerly of horn-happy pop group Beulah—the Oakland-based band flexes its new muscles, showing off such an astonishing range that you might have to check to make sure you’re listening to the same group on every song. The CD opens with the racing percussion and crashing guitars on “Harmonium,” the sort of big, windswept Pacific of a song that’s become the band’s signature—and landed it spots on the soundtracks for everything from Weeds to Napoleon Dynamite to Spider-Man 3. The album moves into quieter territory with “Cheaper Than Therapy” and “Missed,” even into a bit of R.E.M.–like southern-fried jangle on “Own Your Own Home” and “Fantasies.” “Lake Michigan”’s chiming guitars and looping chorus should ensure large-venue sing-alongs. An underlying theme in the lyrics seems to be shunning the trappings of fame for artistic integrity. The band may soon discover, though, that keeping it real doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy mainstream success.  A-
SARAH MUELLER BOSSENBROEK

 

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MOVIE
The Jane Austen Book Club
(In Bay Area theaters)

Fans of Davis author Karen Joy Fowler’s slight

but witty 2005 novel had best steer clear of the movie version of The Jane Austen Book Club. Robin Swicord, a screenwriter responsible for such dubiously effective adaptations as Memoirs of a Geisha and the most recent Little Women, has directed all that is subtle, pointed, or Austen-related out of Fowler’s study of five Sacramento-area women (and one man) united by a love of the great British writer. This is a maudlin, sentimentalized chick flick that willfully dis-regards everything the real Austen had to say about money, love, social climbing, and hypocrisy. Instead, the film offers a series of obvious romantic subplots and saccharine epiphanies, all couched within high school–level “discussions” of Austen’s heroines. Despite decent performances by fine actresses such as Maria Bello (above) and Emily Blunt (plus a charming Hugh Dancy, making the book’s early-40s Grigg a hunky twentysomething), the movie is a clunker—Jane Austen filtered through Lifetime television.  D
SHEERLY AVNI