... maybe just a bit too long. Almost as good as his "Babbitt," Lewis is spot on in his depiction of small-town, post-industrial life on the plains -- where the women are stong, the men are good-looking, and the children... wait, that's Garrison Keillor.

Read this pseudo soap opera for the dialogue, and the strong points of view offered by each of the many characters. Lewis knew people, that's for sure

I will keep this short. T.C. Boyle is at his best here, bringing us to a familiar world with familiar dilemmas that come to a head, leaving his characters transformed as well as the reader.

Boyle doesn't take sides in this clash of cultures that takes place in a canyon overlooking Los Angeles. His point of view shifts, from the upscale Americans who build their firetrap homes above the canyon, to dirt-poor and desperate Mexican illegals who scratch and claw their way into this culture of riches and waste.

The story begins with a collision, and the collisions keep coming, leading up to a cataclysmic one at the novel's climax. Read this book if social issues intrigue you, if you think easy answers to unsolveable problems are a literary cop out.

I promised short here. In short, read this book. It's a masterpiece.

Laura Hillenbrand's "New Yorker" article this year, about her bout with chronic fatigue syndrome, was sheer brilliance -- one of the best pieces I have ever read in that magazine. Half way through the article I learned that she had penned "Seabiscuit," which was then the rage among non-fiction readers (while the movie was doing brisk business in theaters).

So I picked up "Seabiscuit" and was treated to prose that was compelling, yes, but not as concise (obviously) as her NYer article, and not as painstakingly edited. It's a good book, an entertaining book, a book you can learn a bit from. But I gave up after reading half of it -- it just felt like more of the same.

I prefer the structure of novels, I guess. And maybe I'm a bit jealous that so many readers eschew literary fiction (which I write) for more easily digested non-fiction like this (which I do not write).

So please don't read "Seabiscuit" because it's hot, a bestseller. Please don't read it so that you can have an opinion to share at cocktail parties. Do read it for Hillenbrand's quality prose, which is truly capable of putting you in the saddle. And when you're finished, pick up a nice novel.

I published the following Amazon review anonymously a few years ago... here it is, revised, with the author now taking full credit, or blame:

Having, over the years, enjoyed T.C Boyle's many short stories in "The New Yorker," I have collected a few of his novels, among them: "Water Music," a hysterical, bodice-ripping romp through 18th century England, and that too-proud nation's declaration of ownership over every tract of land it's countrymen set foot in -- even when their explorers are speared to death by natives; "The Road to Wellville," another very funny (and historically significant) statement on America's obsession with all things healthy, and finally, Boyle's watershed work, "World's End."

Many readers and reviewers toss off Boyle as a simple satirist -- and they have a valid, if simple, argument. But with "World's End," Boyle reaches beyond stereotypes and puts his language-drunk prose to it's best purpose, creating a vivid cast of credible, and complex, multi-generational carachters (many with GOOD points, as well as bad). This novel is fairly dripping with history, languidly lapsing from the 1600s to the 1960s and back, prompting smiles, laughter and the occasional fit of anger.

Simply put, "World's End" is no simple satire. It's a fully drawn, breathing work of literary art. It became my favorite novel by page 5, and I am anxious to read it again, once I've been through the rest of the Boyle canon.

Since writing the above, I have been through "Budding Prospects," which is enjoyable but light on content and almost entirely lacks message; one would think Boyle would stump here for the legalization of marijuana... oh, well. (See my review for that book, soon to come at Amazon.)

And a final note: of his short stories, "Filthy With Things" is a particular favorite of mine; it must hold some significance for T.C. as well, being the final work in his recently released anthology.) --This text refers to the Paperback edition

How is it that a novel of such importance, by one of our country's premiere men of letters, has been reviewed by only one other Amazonian? Goodness, the state American Literature is in. We are a country losing our soul, much as Tommy Wilhelm in Bellow's "Seize the Day." This book should be appreciated by more readers, plain and simple.

Imagine a man. A child of a man, really, who never quite grew up and never took the time to know himself. He took pills instead. He took the easy route. He painted his life into a corner, and the paint... ain't... drying. Tommy can you hear me? Tommy, it's time to smash the damn mirror and all those bottles of pills and all the bum advice you take from that quack who lives above you in that New York Hotel where you have breakfast with your successful dad every day, the same dad who practically begs you to grow up and go back to your wife and kids and fix what's wrong in your life instead of blaming others.

Sound familiar? Sound like a parable for a nation gone fat with overindulgence and extended adolescence? And yet it's such a personal story. It's just one day in a man's life... a day-long trial for a man who can't make things right because he pushes when he needs to pull.

We all maybe need to push a little less and pull a little more is all I'm saying. Bellow's work represents a life so eff'd up that there may be no solution. Again I ask, sound familiar?

If you love international intrigue, and football -- the kind where a certain female entertainer has not only one, but several wardrobe mishaps, and then goes on to play stellar cornerback through the second half -- look no further than Kroll's droll stroll through 60s-style one-upmanship between US and THEM (read Rooskies).

While I, myself, am not an expert on the genre, I recognize expertise when I read it. Kroll's handle on things technological, espionage-related and how to kill a guy with your bare hands -- on and off the football field -- is firm, baby.

The larger picture is not left un-splattered upon, either. Sure, times have changed since we pointed so many ICBMs at each other, but I sense a subtle bit of finger pointing going on between the pages here. Check the latest polls and you'll find a US citizenry that doesn't necessarily feel it's at war, strangely enough. Could Iraq and Afghanistan be this century's version of the Cold War? If so, what the heck do we call it? GWOT? Pshaw! Warm War? Well, getting warmer.

Anyhow, no matter what you make of "Fourth & Gogol" by the time you get to the pseudo-apocalyptic ending, you'll likely be viewing Mr. Tom Clancy's deadwood thrillers through the space dust in the rear-view mirror of your own literal stealth spaceship -- made in the USA, I might add.

Comrade Kroll, you have written a funny, funny novel. Now, about the film rights...

I had seen the movie a couple of times, for better or worse, before reading this top-ten most important 20th century American novel.

While the book is more complete, I think in some ways the movie does a better job of illustrating the madness of war; "Catch-22," the novel, does not rely so much on graphic depictions of blood and gore as it does on the unfairness of circumstance and the fear and pointlessness of men killing other men over the colors of their flags. (How many German and Italian soldiers were facists at heart? Most, I reckon, were young and impressionable and filled with fear over what would happen to them if they refused to fight.)

Of course, WWII was an unavoidable war, one we fought bravely and righteously -- Heller's novel doesn't openly dispute that. What "Catch-22" does in a groundbreaking way, though, is point a spotlight on some of the absurd, from-the-top-down, morally questionable and out-of-public-view actions of war that lead to innocent men, women and children (on both sides of the border) suffering and of course dying. Some of these actions -- repeatedly upping the required number of missions after the quota's been met, using military connections and materiel in the act of selling or trading black market goods for private profit, war-related corporate benefits, private goals of officers that involve men going in harm's way -- may be more associated with our conflicts in Vietnam and Iraq than WWII.

The only valor in this novel exists in the idea of getting out alive; after all, the enemies are not the Germans so much as the commanding officers. Interpreted more deeply, "Catch-22" could be considered a comment on corporate structure and the use of men as pawns in the top-level games played by the players and power brokers of America. (For more on that subject, see "Life Askew," available at Amazon.com.)

The first 100 pages of "Catch-22" is a series of character sketches, some hilarious, some maddening -- there's a very stream-of-consciousness aspect to what little narrative structure exists. (Heller breaks so many storytelling rules and gets away with it!) Madness, folks. It's about madness. The story, what there is of it, really takes shape in the second half -- the more satisfying half of the novel, more structured and less antic.

Like The Grapes of Wrath and 1984, Catch-22 is an important cautionary tale. Read it if you would rather live on your feet than die on your knees.

There are many tools novelists and screenwriters use to create their art. None was as useful to me as Vogler's "Writer's Journey." This book was thrust upon me by a "mentor" -- rather forcefully, because I had "resisted the call" -- and through it I was able to enter the "inmost cave" of the novel I was trying to finish.

I "seized the sword" and "returned with the elixer" and ended up with what I consider a damn fine novel ("Life Askew" -- check it out at Amazon.com).

If you are writing a story, making a film or simply interested in why movies like "Star Wars" and "The Wizard of Oz" are so effective (despite their surface simplicity) pick up Vogler's book and simply read the introduction. Trust me, you will be hooked and follow the "hero's journey" to it's satisfying end.

I'm not a terribly religious guy. And, for better or worse, Gonic's graphic "novel" -- if it can be called that -- made me take long-held beliefs, many of which were based on legend, superstition and the heresay of institutional elders, and flipped the flippin' things upside down!

I read "Cartoon History... III" during a time when my already-loose faith in Christ and the church that represents him was on the wane; and this book gave me the chance to reconsider religion's place in my life -- religion, as opposed to spirituality and a hopeful belief in God. It -- religion -- was not crushed in value, but perhaps it was diminished. OK, it was really, really diminished, and perhaps my sense of spirituality and belief in a higher power was, too, though not AS diminished.

But never mind all that. Read "Cartoon History" for the comedy within. It is poignant, brilliant, subtle, irreverent and questioning. Gonick is a freakin' genius.

In the end, this set of volumes gives readers the chance to question their values, which all great works of art should aspire to. We need to do the proverbial soul-gut check every once in awhile, even if it means a few icons get smashed. This book does a pretty good job of giving readers an overview of the world's great religions, and takes what at least seems like a journalistic viewpoint to the layperson (aka myself) of the events that brought about Judaism, Christianity, Islam, etc. Non-religous history is in there too, but throughout this epoch, religion is history.

I was left with the conclusion that many, many souls -- far too many -- have been extinguished in the fight over "your God or mine," which, during the reading, troubled me deeply, but opened new windows in my own outlook. This book affirmed for me the great gift that life is, but proved that, to many thoughout history, life was, and is, cheap.

Be careful when you read this -- you may never be able to worship in quite the same way again.

Owen Meany is better than "Garp," because it is devoid of bears and ... and strange detours through arcane European geography. A beautiful, hilarious, metaphoric anti-war ballad about a strange little kid who SPEAKS IN CAPITALS and saves his best friend's life in more ways than one.

All of us grew up with an Owen Meany, some of us WERE Owen Meany.