Review | Seriously… I’m Kidding, Ellen DeGeneres

Reading Ellen DeGeneres’ Seriously… I’m Kidding is like having a casual, one on one conversation with Ellen herself. The book is hilarious, rather sweet and oddball, with the wonderfully sunny outlook on life that has become Ellen’s trademark. It also often veers into the pointless, with sight gag chapters that probably would work well as minor sketches on her show, but are just worth skimming in a book. On the bright side, I’m Kidding is overall a feel good book, cheerful and optimistic without being preachy. It’s Ellen, on the page, and a fun way to spend your commute.

There are a few completely random chapters. One can almost imagine her Finding Nemo character Dory narrating some of the passages, with their pointless digressions and wide-eyed punchlines. In one chapter entitled “Ideas,” for example, Ellen rambles about everything from smiling to astronauts. Presumably, she means to mimic the brainstorming process, how each idea leads on to another with the barest minimum of connections, and so on. Except it plays out like a comedy routine that seemed funnier than it really is, and the punchline, “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have written this chapter,” backfires when the reader reluctantly agrees.

Others, like “For the Teenagers” and “Magic,” are sight gags, possibly worth a chuckle when read, but nothing that will make you remember once the page is turned. These stand in sharp contrast to some genuinely great bits of comedy in the book. Take for example “How to Be a Supermodel,” a how-to guide based on Ellen’s experience as a Cover Girl model. The tips in this chapter are sharp and insightful, comedic gems. Take for example:

One: The Look
Always look like you’re angry at the universe for making you too pretty. [p. 11]

Ellen is at her best however in the somewhat more serious chapters. She never allows herself to become Oprah-esque, pulling back with a wisecrack just when she’s dispensed some bit of wisdom. The overall effect is that of a woman who is afraid to let the mood get too sombre, and who therefore undercuts her own advice with humour. That being said, in many of these instances, the humour actually enhances the impact of the advice, and at times reveals further insight.

Take for example a thoughtful chapter on the meaning of life. Ellen observes that people disagree about the nature of happiness — some say we should live each day as if it were our first, and others say we should live each day as if it were our last. It’s confusing, Ellen admits, then immediately quips, “Either way you should probably have a diaper on.” Good point, a quick joke, and a good reminder that prescribed methods of finding happiness aren’t foolproof.

Ellen’s chapter on “Labels” stands out as possibly the most serious. Apart from an offhand joke about her Cover Girl endorsement and a gentle scoff at musical theatre, Ellen reflects on how much she’s been labelled. In a particularly striking line, she admits,

It didn’t occur to me that when I announced I was gay I would have to clarify just how gay I am. What does it matter? What does it mean? All I can say is I’m gay enough for me. [p. 93]

In one of my favourite chapters, “What Would Jesus Do?” Ellen talks about magazine polls and the culture of judgement. Much like the chapter on the meaning of life, Ellen switches from thoughtful observation to quick quip and back again throughout this chapter. Giving the example of a poll that asks “Hot pink dress — is it a do or a don’t?” Ellen demands:

Who cares? If you want to wear a pink dress, wear a pink dress. It doesn’t matter what other people think. One hundred percent of the people polled could say a pink dress is a “do” and guess what? I still ain’t wearing one. [p. 54]

Ellen’s independence and self-confidence are among the many things that make her such a great role model. That passage just about made me applaud. Ellen continues:

All these polls do is make everyone so judgmental. And I don’t believe in judgment. Unless is judgment of judgment. I don’t think someone has to “wear something better” or have a better hairstyle. That’s why the word “different” exists in our language. [p. 55]

Hear hear, Ellen DeGeneres, hear hear!

She immediately undercuts that inspiring passage with a joke, but then switches right back into incisive observation so seamlessly that the interjection of jokes feels natural.

Seriously… I’m Kidding is very much hit or miss, on a chapter by chapter basis. Overall, however, it’s a fun read that just has Ellen’s wonderful personality shine through. You’ll feel good while reading it. The flapjacket copy that promises

If you buy it, you will feel better, look better, be happier, grow taller, lose weight, get a promotion at work, have shinier hair, and fall madly, deeply in love.

is a joke, but like many chapters in the book, holds a grain of truth. Ellen’s humour is so infectious that this book will most likely cheer you up, and if you haven’t fallen in love with Ellen yet, some chapters in this book might make you do just that.

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Thank you to Hachette Book Group for a finished copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | The Hollow City, Dan Wells

Michael Shipman is crazy. A diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, Michael sees Faceless Men and gets splitting migraines whenever a cellphone rings. So when we see the world through Michael’s eyes in Dan Wells’ The Hollow City, we know not to take it at face value.

It takes great talent for an author to get into the mind of someone who’s had a psychotic break from reality. Wells takes this to a whole different level by having readers mistrust his narrator from the beginning, yet slowly begin to question this mistrust. Some authors are able to make psychologically disturbed characters sympathetic and their views understandable, usually through eloquence (Lolita, A Clockwork Orange) or through comparison with a villainous “sane” world (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). Wells however  offers actual clues and details that make us wonder if Michael is, in reality, seeing Faceless Men, and if there is some rational, physiological reason for his adverse reaction to electronic devices.

Hollow City begins as a tragic depiction of an unbalanced mind. Michael’s hallucinations are as real to him as reality is to us, and the intensity of his fear at things we view as ordinary (cellphones, TVs, hot water faucets) inspires sympathy. His condition, particularly his obsession with Faceless Men, makes him a prime suspect in the investigation of serial murderer The Red Line Killer, whose trademark is slicing his victims’ faces off. Worse, Michael has lost two weeks’ worth of memory and is himself unsure if he is the Red Line Killer. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be not to be able to trust yourself, and when Michael begins to doubt the reality of people around him, some of whom he loves and depends on, he becomes even more isolated.

Then the story takes a completely different turn when Michael’s hallucinations start making more sense. We’re never quite sure if Michael’s perceptions are turning out to be real or if we too have been sucked into his mind. But this does open up a science fiction/horror story angle to the plot. It’s a thrilling ride to the end, and I was as desperate as Michael to find out what, exactly, is going on. Wells never gets as complex as China Mieville or as seductive as Vladimir Nabokov, which he could have done given his premise, and this is perhaps the reason Hollow City didn’t blow me away. The murder mystery that drove the plot started out compelling, but wasn’t really developed, and the big reveal regarding the murderer was fairly obvious and anti-climactic. That being said, I was definitely taken by surprise by the other big reveal, the reason behind Michael’s hallucinations. I love that Wells took a big, unexpected leap with that, and while the ending seemed a bit rushed, given the build up, it made sense. After all the uncertainty, and all the wondering about where Wells could possibly be taking this story, the ending satisfies. A good, solid, fast-paced read.

Review | Line of Fire, Stephen White

About a year ago, Stephen White announced that he would be ending the Alan Gregory series. He told fans that Line of Fire would be the penultimate book in the series, and that the series would end with book 20. He explains his decision on his website, under the book description for Line of Fire. My first thought? That sucks. I’ve been a long-time fan of the series, mysteries featuring clinical psychologist Alan Gregory. I enjoy reading psychological mysteries in general, and this series, more Jonathan Kellerman than Val McDermid, had a nice guy protagonist who made you feel comfortable even as you were reading about disturbed individuals. I also like White’s cast of characters — like Alan’s DA wife Lauren who has MS, and detective Sam Purdy — all with their quirks yet all so well-rounded and fleshed out over the past eighteen books. So it kinda sucks that the series was coming to an end.

That being said, if the series does have to end, what a way to end it! Line of Fire is such a fitting book to begin the end — White ratchets up the tension, brings together a lot of series characters, and fearlessly takes his beloved characters to dark, unpredictable places. If this book is any indication, the Alan Gregory series will end with a flourish. Well done, Mr. White.

Line of Fire begins with an idyllic scene — Alan Gregory at a Sunday night family dinner — yet, even there, White gives us an undercurrent of tension with a conversation about Boulder’s Red Flag Warning, which basically cautions residents about the possibility of a major fire. Alan’s life then proceeds to become even more complicated. His close friend Diane fears her marriage is falling apart and seems on the verge of emotional collapse. He has a couple of new patients who seem linked in some way to his life beyond work. Finally, a secret he and Sam have kept is in danger of being exposed, which could mean the end of their respective careers and both their families being taken away from them.

The stakes are high, and the twists keep coming. At times I thought Alan Gregory’s investigating was just making things worse — I wanted to tell him to listen to Sam and leave it alone — but that often happens in books like this to keep the protagonist involved and the story going. Alan had to deal with a whole lot of knotty problems, and I like how a lot of seemingly disparate plot points came together.

The ending, I admit, shocked me, as did the actions of a series character. White has never been one to hold back on how he treats his major characters (I still remember how I felt about what he did to Adrienne), but what he did here was just balls to the wall, nothing left to lose, let’s end this. I thought the twist was a bit contrived — too convenient, too orchestrated — but it still did have its desired effect. I have no desire to see the Alan Gregory series end, but after this book, I definitely want to see what White has planned for book 20.

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Thank you to the author’s website manager for an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.