When We Were Orphans, Werewolves in Their Youth, & Wonder Boys

When We Were Orphans is Kazuo Ishiguro's fifth novel, and he is best known for writing The Remains of the Day, the best Merchant-Ivory film. That novel was great, and while When We Were Orphans couldn't match that, it was an engaging story of a young boy, orphaned in Shanghai when both of his parents disappeared, and then growing up in England in the interwar years to be a detective, and his efforts to both save the world from World War II and to find his parents. For someone who has a well-known interest in both Asian and English culture and history, this book was right up my alley. I do not, in any way, regret purchasing and reading this book. Which is high praise.

Werewolves in Their Youth is a collection of short stories by Michael Chabon (including one in the guise of August Van Zorn, the Gothic horror author from his Wonder Boys). Digression to talking about Wonder Boys (which I read a couple months ago and was waiting to rewatch the movie before writing it up): being a big fan of the movie (back when Katie Holmes wasn't brainwashed), and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, I hadn't bothered to go find Wonder Boys or his other works. I have rectified that, and have to say that I like the book more than the movie. Mainly because there is more time spent with his in-laws, the scene in the parking lot, and the addition of the snake. Along with the trunk full of amazing things. Certainly, I can't complain about a Jewish family that has taken it upon themselves to adopt a bunch of Korean girls and screw them up just as much as Jews tend to screw up their own kids (Grady Tripp's sister-in-law was a great little character), so I have to say that the little bits that were cut out to make the film fit in two hours were some of my favorite parts in the book. Werewolves in Their Youth, on the other hand, was a collection of short stories, almost entirely about failing marriages (or failing families), except for the August Van Zorn Gothic story, In the Black Mill, a Lovecraftian piece of trash that works due to the sheer will of Chabon to keep to the pastiche. It's awkwardly written, sentence structures are far more complicated than they should be, and just works about as well as a Lovecraft story. I was hoping for some description of a tentacled beast, but was denied. The other short stories are occasionally good, occasionally not so good, but all paint a very clear picture of troubled people. So if that's what you want to read about, then go ahead and find a copy of this.