I'm in the middle of a mass of wildly different books, and sometimes the mind spins at how off kilter my reading has become. Here are initial thoughts on all of them:

On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I've never read it. I honestly never had any interest in reading it. I have read books about Kerouac and the Beats and some autobiographical bits by him but I never really cared to know why he hit the road and what he found there. But in putting together the outline on the western book I wanted to get a peek into the most famous title on being an outsider in America, and trying to find yourself by running away. I'm only a few chapters in and so far I'm not loving it. I'm actually kind of mystified as why it's a classic (but I feel that way about a lot of classics). I guess I need to embrace it more as a historical text (signpost of a generation) then an actual novel with characters I care about (because really - I don't care about Sal or Dean or any of the rest of them thus far). I wonder what it is like to read and love this book though...but of course that is kind of the point of my book, so the research continues.

Pulpy and Midge by Jessica Westhead. Another quirky title from Coach House Press who continue to impress me with their sheer originality. Steve (aka Pulpy) has a bland office job. His wife Midge hosts candle parties. He hoped for a promotion at work (was promised) but the old boss left and now a monster has taken his place. Lots of office politics ensue, as well as some inappropriate advances towards married folks. Not sure how it will all play out yet, but as a picture of middle management and cubicle world it has "Office" written all over it. My office past was dark enough to make all of this novel seem perfectly possible so far; we'll see how it plays out.

Marked For Death by Terry Gould. For the Nov column ("wars of the world"), this title is about journalists who have been killed in countries all over the world. It is an intense piece of reporting in its own right and quite gripping; the chapters each highlight a different reporter in a different country. Gould gives you enough political history to understand the places you are reading about (I am reeling from Colombia right now) and then gives the personal information on the specific journalist and the stories he or she covered. On the one hand, I feel incredibly powerless reading about these people and what they have sacrificed to uncover the truth. But on the other hand, knowing what is happening is part of the battle. And at least as I read, I finally know.

Operation Yes by Sara Lewis Holmes. Also for the Nov column - a look at a group of military kids and how they cope in a time like ours where their parents might be sent to Iraq or Afghanistan at any time. It certainly reminds me of EL Konigsberg and the off beat teacher is very Esme Codell - in a good way. Only about a third into this one - see Jen's review for a good look at why this one is a winner. (for MG readers)

The Happiest Days of Our Lives by Wil Wheaton. Okay, this showed up like two days ago and I lost my mind and immediately started reading it. It's a bit of a no-brainer for me as Wheaton and I are roughly the same age and so have the same cultural touchstones (D&D, Star Wars, Star Trek, and pretty much all the music he mentions). I am also a fan of Wheaton's - both his acting (hello Ensign Crusher! and of course, Stand By Me). I've read his blog for years so, well, I don't think I have to explain why I wanted to read this essay collection immediately! And it's fab! But then again - I'm not a hard sell. More when I'm done and can - maybe - look at this book objectively. (Is there like a reviewer's achilles heal - an author or subject you just can't consider from anything other than a big fanboy/girl position? What does one do at that point?)

The Photographer by Didier Lefevre and Emmanuel Guibert. Again for November. A graphic novel based on the travels of Lefevre with Doctors Without Borders in Afghanistan in the late 1980s. I don't know how I will do this one justice with a review. It's a brilliant design blend of photos, Guibert's art and Lefevre's narrative. A peek into a distant world, which has been transformed again and again (and again) by conflict. I see a book like this and I think how transformative books can be on every single level. It's an object of beauty but an intellectual adventure as well. Truly a wonder.

The Wildest Dream: The Biography of George Mallory by Peter & Leni Gillman. Mallory is another of my lost men - someone who pushed to get to something he could not define and became lost, literally and figuratively, in the process. He was found recently, but his disappearance (and still missing climbing partner) was the greatest mystery on Everest. I understand the desire to climb a mountain, but I don't understand why Mallory kept going back, especially when he so clearly loved and missed his family. The question is was he running away or just couldn't stay still? Don't know what I think yet, but the book is very interesting indeed.

I'm also dipping into Sarah Vowell for near daily inspiration and several, lighter, graphic novels. More on those soon.

[The Mallory and Kerouac are my purchases - all others provided by publishers.]