Velva Jean Learns to Drive by Jennifer Niven

Deena recommended this to me along with a few other books.  I thought it was fine.  The story is about a young girl growing up in North Carolina in the 1930's.  She has dreams of pursuing a career at the Grand Ole Opry but she also falls in love with a former troublemaker-turn-preacher from her hometown with whom her life would be decidedly less dramatic.  Her internal battle between remaining loyal to her home and loyal to her dreams forms the majority of the narrative.

The book seemed very basic to me.  It had a textbook beginning, middle, climax, and denouement, with no real surprises.  Velva Jean's voice was young and stayed young even as she aged into her later teens.  And the ultimate decision she makes is not surprising. 

However I did appreciate two things about this book.  First, Niven did a great job creating a very detailed setting.  I felt like I knew just what Velva Jean's home and town looked like and what it would feel like to walk around.  The other thing I liked about the book was that Niven had several characters and situations all of whom were struggling with dilemmas of staying versus leaving, progress versus status quo.  In fact one of the story lines is about a road that is being built through their area, and the different characters' points of view on whether it is "going out" or "coming in". 

This is Niven's first novel, and it shows.  She has some great ideas but I hope she matures as an author so they come in a format easier to appreciate.

The Big Short by Michael Lewis

I decided it was time for me to learn more about what happened with the bailout, so I took this off the bookshelf.  Web had read it a few months back.

Michael Lewis is one of my favorite non-fiction authors.  In past years I've read Moneyball, The Blind Side, and Liar's Poker.  Malcolm Gladwell describes him a "the finest storyteller of our generation" and I agree.  This book is about the financial meltdown.  Particularly, Lewis writes about a few oddball bankers, some on the fringe of Wall Street, who accurately predicted the mortgage-backed securities crisis.  Lewis profiles some colorful people on both sides of the situation - those who bet on these securities and those who bet against them. 

The most interesting part of the book, aside from the personalities, was that because he was profiling people who bet against the industry, he had to explain in detail to the reader one of the strangest financial instruments: the credit-default swap.  Basically a credit-default swap is insurance you buy against a particular security dropping in value, except you don't have to own the security to own the insurance.  It's a really strange security that spawns a really strange market that is at the core of the meltdown.  Michael Lewis says in his book, "Dear Reader: If you have followed the story this far, you deserve not only a gold star but also an answer to a complicated question..."  And thank goodness, because I sweated through a couple of those pages.

This book rounds out a few places where I've learned about the crisis; the same week I read this book we caught HBO's excellent Too Big to Fail documentary.  A few months ago I listened to This American Life's episode about Magnetar, one of the hedge funds in the middle of the crisis.  And last week's New York Times Magazine had a cover story on Sheila Bair, the outgoing chairwoman of the FDIC.  Together, those pieces of media gave me a good grounding on what the heck happened to our banks.

An Open Letter to Barnes and Noble

I love to read books.  Actual books.  I'm one of the few people in my generation (mid-30s) who has not moved to an e-Reader.  Which is why I have felt incredibly excluded as a customer in my last few trips to Barnes and Noble.  At my local store (the Prudential Center in Boston) no less than half the floor when you walk in is branded with nook items and accessories.  (Know what used to be there?  Among other things, the travel section.  I miss daydreaming about where my next trip is going to be. Now travel is mushed into the back of the store.)  More people staff the nook part of the store than the info desk.  They don't answer "book" questions.  And when I renewed my membership for another year once I had purchased something, I was pitched on the benefits available to me if I got a nook.  (Apologies to that cashier because I definitely bit his head off.)

I was in Toronto recently and stepped into an Indigo bookstore.  Know what was there?  Books.  Staff picks, tables and table and rows and rows of books.  It was a BOOKstore.  And I read a lot of books each year - around 40 or so.

I wish I had been someone who loved independent bookstores, but to be honest I have always liked B&N just as much as any independent book shop.  In fact, shopping there felt like shopping in a carefully-designed and carefully-maintained private store.  I always thought the first few tables of recommendations (paperback favorites, new in paperback, etc) were right on with respect to what I should read next.  When the Kindle first came out (before there was a nook), I said one of the reasons I didn't think I'd like it was that I love the feeling of browsing in a book store and reading jacket after jacket in a careful determination of what to buy.

I'm no Luddite.  I work at a high-tech company in a technical role.  I got a Tivo before it was cool and set up my own RF remote.  But I do like books, actual books, with deckled edges and smells and beautiful covers (never the movie edition), and I want to shop for them.  If it's not fun to shop for them in a B&N store anymore then I'm just as likely to buy on Amazon since I'm buying other household items and groceries there anyway. 


I know I'm in the minority.  But I'm also a Barnes and Noble fan historically, so I wanted to be fair and let you know how it feels to shop in your stores these days.