Philip Roth: Portnoy's Complaint. (Vintage)
A seminal work. In more ways than one.
Alice Miller: The Body Never Lies: The Lingering Effects of Cruel Parenting
I have suffered through endless therapy sessions, support groups, and self-help books which proclaim the abused must forgive their oppressors in order to find peace. Alice Miller calls bullshit on this quatsch, and shows that victims make better progress if they do NOT forgive their abusers. I concur.
Robert Whiting: You Gotta Have WA (Vintage Departures)
Prospective expats often ask me for tips on doing business in Japan. This book, which tells the story of American baseball players recruited to Japanese clubs in the eighties, proved the single most useful guide to how a Japanese organisation works. Richard Whiting is a sportswriter who has spent most of his career in Japan, and carved a niche for himself explaining the curiosities of Japanese team sports. Check out his most famous work, The Chrysanthemum and the Bat.
Chad Kultgen: Average American Male: A Novel
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Drop me off on Mars, OK?
Michael Heyward: The Ern Malley Affair
This is so post-modern, it makes your head spin. In 1940s Australia, two would-be poets Harold Stewart and James McAuley grew tired of rejections from avant-garde literary journals. As a lark, the two composed what they thought was were silly parodies of the prevailing modernist school, and submitted them under an assumed name to Angry Penguins, a new journal published by the Adelaide dandy Max Harris. Harris said they were brilliant. The (real) authors revealed that the poems were frauds. Or were they still brilliant, even if the poets responsible never intended them to be? A fascinating artistic morality tale, which still stirs arguments in Australian academic circles.
Gore Vidal: Myra Breckinridge & Myron
Today, Vidal concentrates on scathing essays and scandalous memoir. But you'll find his best work in his early satires. Myra Breckenridge tells the story of a ball-busting post-op transexual woman who wreaks revenge on the millieu of B-list celebs and wannabes who spurned her as a man. This short book carries not an ounce of fat; every word packs a punch. It is, without doubt, his masterpiece. The sequel, Myron, runs longer, and is just a little too aware of its own cleverness. Irritated at a Supreme Court decision on censorship, Vidal replaces each of the proscribed nine dirty words with the names of the Justices themselves. Oddly, the judges all seem to sport names which suit the purpose. I am especially fond of the name for a vulgarity which refers to the female genitalia; Justice Whizzer White.
Dana Thomas: Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster
A staggeringly well-written book from a former Washington Post fashion correspondent. The many hundreds of billions of dollars which passes through the hands of the luxury goods industry has not trickled-down to the people who actually do the work. Once proud brands tarnish their reputations by badge-engineering. A merciless expose of luxury marketing, but one which respects the artisanal ideals which spawned the industry in the first place.
Japan Travel Bureau: Japan in Your Pocket: "Salaryman" in Japan No. 8 (Eibun Nihon Etoki Jiten)
Perhaps the funniest book on Japanese culture ever written. And it's meant to be serious. Did you know that the highest ranking executive gets the safest seat in a taxi? I didn't, until this book explained all those silly details of business etiquette. Special section on how to curse your bucho.
Bruno Schulz: The Street of Crocodiles and Other Stories (Penguin Classics)
Magic realism at its best. Also seek out his Sanatorium under the Sign of the Hourglass.
Mark Leyner: My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist
Dali once described surrealism as the chance meeting of a fish and an anvil on an ironing board. As a modern surrealist, Leyner provides plenty of anvils, but the fish are somehow missing. A dozen eskimos in bowler hats have just rung the doorbell, and I must get my llama to make them hot fudge sundaes. Do I make myself clear?
Muriel Spark: The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
The relationship between a gifted student and a truly inspiring teacher is an intimate one. So intimate, the student and teacher can resemble two lovers, with their intrigues, passions, and potential for betrayal. Spark's cool, detatched style is at odds with the simmering emotion that runs through this tale of adolescent self-discovery. It makes her story all the more heartbreaking. A masterpiece.
Nick Flynn: Another Bullshit Night in Suck City: A Memoir
What effect does it have on your soul, if you're working in a homeless shelter, and your dad checks in? And you have to throw him out for bad behaviour? A gut-wrenching tale of family dysfunction, emotional torture, and (yes) vanity. Flynn is a poet, and he tells his tale in a way that's morbidly beautiful.
Mary Karr: The Liars Club
Like Nick Flynn, another poet tells her tale of childhood neglect and abuse. The portrait she paints of her star-crossed parents, held together by lust and divided my tragedy, will bring you to tears.
P.J. O'Rourke: Republican Party Reptile
O' Rourke says he's a Republican, but he appears on NPR. A (political) party animal. His viewpoints, in large measure, suck. But I bet he mixes a mean Gimlet.
Mrs. Dorothy Parker: The Portable Dorothy Parker (Viking portable library)
She's a total bitch. But you knew that.
Peter C. Whybrow: American Mania: When Too Much Is Not Enough
How being a nation of immigrants messes with American heads (and waists). Incredibly insightful.
Tony Hendra: The 80s: A Look Back at the Tumultuous Decade 1980-1989
This book was written in 1978, as a joke. It is read, in 2009, as an historical document.
Herodotus: The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
Herodotus was the Perez Hilton of Ancient Greece. No gossipy detail misses his evil eye. Pericles? Don't get him started...
A Men at Work song used to have a line that goes:
He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich.
Before learning the real words I always thought they were saying He just smiled and gave me a bit o' my sandwich.
Carry on.
Posted by: ian in hamburg | Wednesday, 18 November 2009 at 05:06 PM
Someone should have written this years ago!
Posted by: arizaphale | Thursday, 19 November 2009 at 03:10 AM
Especially the bit about the Cheezel.
Posted by: headbang8 | Thursday, 19 November 2009 at 09:25 AM
In Iceland and other countries, they bury game animals and leave them to "mature" over several weeks until they achieve the right texture: cheesy.
I asked my friend what it tasted like: "I vomitted immediately, but the aftertaste was cloves, Vegemite, and whale."
Posted by: Kevin C Jones | Thursday, 19 November 2009 at 05:34 PM
How is Vegemite different from Marmite?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marmite
Posted by: Mo | Friday, 20 November 2009 at 10:49 AM
"The texture is smooth and sticky. It is not as intensely flavoured as British Marmite and it is less sweet than the New Zealand version of Marmite." according to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vegemite. Vegemite actually has spices that make it taste more like beef boullion.
Posted by: headbang8 | Friday, 20 November 2009 at 11:43 AM
iSnack 2.0 jars signed by Dean Robbins now on http://cgi.ebay.com.au/iSnack-2-0-Signed-by-Dean-Robbins_W0QQitemZ330379106199QQ
Posted by: Addled One | Sunday, 22 November 2009 at 03:56 AM
...or, as we used to call them in Australia, Men at Jerk.
Posted by: headbang8 | Tuesday, 24 November 2009 at 12:19 PM
There's something charming about the brazen-ness with which you have converted server space (for which I pay TypePad a hefty fee every year) to your own ends. That's a tort. But since I am a shameless adman myself, I shall quietly congratulate you, rather than sue you.
Posted by: headbang8 | Tuesday, 24 November 2009 at 12:23 PM
Have you applied for an advertising position with Vegemite corp? After reading the delicious description you so eloquently penned, I rushed to the pantry and dug through mounds of Tabasco Sauce, Ketchup and Bottled Jalapenos (I am after all, residing in the stupid state they call Texas) and found it at last!
My vegemite-in-a-tube. I browned my toast as per your instructions butter first, spread on gingerly... mmmm.....Nirvana. Thanks for the inspiration.
Posted by: Karyn | Friday, 27 November 2009 at 06:37 PM
Never thought of Texas as stupid, just mos'. Add a few jalapenos to the toast and you can sell it as Tex-Oz.
Posted by: Kevin C Jones | Saturday, 28 November 2009 at 12:19 PM
I've never gathered up the... gumption?... to buy vegemite. But I've wanted to try it for a while. At least now I'll know how to do so when the day rolls around.
Posted by: Dave | Thursday, 10 December 2009 at 07:41 PM
My brother from Chicago has tasted Australian deluxe beer perhaps too much in his recent visit. And, he admits he has hoovered/dysoned too many cigarrettes.
But he has done wonders in cleaning up the house collective. Woonderful. So I'll only put a dab of each veg behind his ears.
Posted by: Kevin C Jones | Wednesday, 16 December 2009 at 05:56 PM