BOOK
CHARLIE HAAS: THE ENTHUSIAST
(Harper Perennial)
In the press notes for his first novel, Oakland-based screenwriter Charlie Haas (Over the Edge, Gremlins 2) lists the New York School poets as major influences on his style. This background yields The Enthusiast’s best quality: a virtual guarantee that each page will include at least one delightful and surprising turn of phrase that could have wandered in from a Frank O’Hara poem. On the narrator’s first day in a new town: “Stepped out into a world that felt like I’d been born missing it.” On New York: “Even the mumbling schizophrenics were the best in the country at what they did.” But the story itself is a familiar mix of indie quirk and tidy Hollywood resolution—Young Man Heads Across America in Search of Himself. The young man in question is Henry Bay, an itinerant magazine editor who ekes out a living interviewing enthusiasts—tea aficionados, ice climbers, rock hunters—about their passions while fumbling with his own, and his precise, colorful voice is often too similar to those of the eccentrics he meets. Still, one dazzling line per page is pretty great for any novel, first or otherwise. And who cares if the characters tend to sound alike, when they all sound so bloody good? B+
—SHEERLY AVNI
ALBUM
GREEN DAY: 21ST CENTURY BREAKDOWN
(Reprise)
When punk started out, it was a howled antidote to the rock operas, guitar solos, and synthesizers of the ’70s. So it’s ironic that East Bay trio Green Day’s eighth LP features all of those hoary staples—and it’s the punk icon’s best-sounding album yet. Some kudos go to producer Butch Vig (Nirvana, Sonic Youth), who gave the disc both grit and sheen, but a lesser ensemble wouldn’t have pulled off such experimentation: The band succeeds at crafting horn-driven mariachi punk (“East Jesus Nowhere”), McCartney-ish piano pop (“Last Night on Earth”), riff-laden classic rock (“21 Guns”), and even twisty-turny art-rock (“Before the Lobotomy”). The one problem with the album, save for a bit of bloat, is the lyrical content. Front man Billie Joe Armstrong seems to be reaching for Springsteen-ian drama with this rock opera about two kids struggling through endless wars, self-righteous religions, and larcenous corporations, but his songs often drift into vagaries and clichés (“Seasons in a ruin and / This bitter pill is chased with blood / There’s fire in my veins / And it’s pouring out like a flood”). In the end, Green Day has come up with an amazing collection of hooks and choruses, but the verses lack specificity and emotional impact. B
—DAN STRACHOTA
BOOK
WILLIAM T. VOLLMANN: IMPERIAL
(Viking)
William T. Vollmann is a California monument: part Samuel Pepys, part Upton Sinclair. No one can accuse him of leaving stones unturned. In this magnificent, exhaustive—and exhausting—tome, the Sacramento-based writer illuminates the lives, tensions, and past of Imperial County, the agriculture community just east of San Diego. Why there? Because it holds the history of Mexico-U.S. relations, writ small. Vollmann surveys the last century of this history, bouncing from vanished farmers to overworked farmhands, border agents to illegal “bodies” (chilling official-ese for illegal aliens captured dead or alive). Imperial County is an artificial marvel created by diverting the Colorado River into the desert. The Imperial Press and Farmer celebrated the 1901 opening of the Imperial canal with its lead story: “Water Is Here.” In Vollmann’s book, this headline is fed—along with other selections from his impressionistic study—into a growing tape loop, resurfacing repeatedly in new contexts. The snippets are as likely to come from a drunk in a Mexican strip club as from a public archive, and that’s the lure of Imperial: It’s not researched, it’s lived. This epic volume is beach reading only if you live on the beach (and have a handcart available), but Vollmann’s prismatic approach is a fresh and necessary tool for uncovering a convoluted, fundamental vein of California history. A
—SCOTT HUTCHINS
ALBUM
MY FIRST EARTHQUAKE: DOWNSTAIRS
(self-released)
Declared dead in 2008, the electropop subgenre known as New Rave seems to be alive and well with San Francisco’s My First Earthquake. Named for lead singer Rebecca Bortman’s first temblor—which coincided with the band’s first practice in 2006—MFE channels female-fronted New Ravers, like CSS and New Young Pony Club, with catchy choruses, driving bass lines, and a pixie-punk attitude courtesy of Bortman, who’s also the lyricist. Though MFE is relatively unknown outside San Francisco, the foursome may change that with their debut. They spent four days in the studio, recorded 40 songs, and chose 10, yielding about 25 minutes of quick-fire pop-punk ditties with references to wet dreams, dryer shrink, and the Tenderloin. Most of the songs end abruptly, and Bortman misses occasional notes, but the subtle imperfections befitting a raw band like this one are endearing. The hardest tune on the album is “Outta the Band,” a two-minute headbanger that would make Jack White proud, while the closing track, “Sleep in the Sea,” is a dreamlike doo-wop song about a sailor’s homecoming. MFE may not be ready to quit their day jobs (they’re all in tech), but they’re breaking out of the bread line with Downstairs. B+
—MATT BLOOM
BOOK
KASPER HAUSER: WEDDINGS OF THE TIMES
(St. Martin’s Griffin)
San Francisco’s underground sketch-comedy scene is so competitive, the best troupes now come with degrees from Stanford and kudos from David Foster Wallace—at least, that’s how eight-year-old quartet Kasper Hauser rolls. Fresh from performing their irreverent parodies of This American Life on the cherished public-radio show, the award-winning social satirists have authored Weddings of the Times, a pitch-perfect send-up of the New York Times Weddings & Celebrations section that transmutes a usually pompous and banal form into comedic gold. The book is a follow-up to their DFW- and George Saunders–approved 2006 debut, SkyMaul: Happy Crap You Can Buy from a Plane. Published just in time for wedding season, this second periodical parody includes almost 100 pictures of happy couples, along with brief announcements of their nuptials. Each read-out-loud-funny entry is richly detailed with what the book’s foreword, penned by Daily Show regular John Hodgman, calls “little human stories, full of want and hope, even when they involve falconry.” The premise offers the perfect stage for four of the Bay Area’s brightest comedians to riff on what they know best: Greek and American literature, zombies, Ivy League schools, and shark cages. A
—DAVID DOWNS