August Book Club

Confessions first. I have been a bad reader. I have read a couple inane novels (including the new Janet Evanovich, yes I know... it's never coming back), the updated Ohio Campaign Finance Handbook and a lot political mailers and source materials, but I haven't reviewed anything since well... nothing has been too spectacular. Happily, the best book I have read this month also happened to be the August book selection at our little inbred liberal Book Club. Nathan chose The Mystic Arts of Erasing All Signs of Death this month by Charlie Huston. Alan Ball (of TrueBlood fame) has bought the rights and it seems this little gem might be making an appearance on HBO in the near future... and let's face it, we all knows what happens when a gay man is in charge of casting.

Death introduces us to your everyday asshole slacker, Web, who likes to hang out at his best friend's tattoo shop and whip clever verbal barbs like it was his job (since he doesn't have one). The story eludes to a not so pleasant experience in his past that unravels throughout the story, ending with Web naked in the fetal position under a cot in his boss' office after he has slept with the equally broken and intellectually astute, Soledad.

Through a series of highly unlikely, but entirely plausible events, Web begins to work for the guy that removes the biowaste from the tattoo shop. Po Chin, the owner and operator of a cleaning company that cleans anything and everything no one else will touch, also seems to owe Web for some unknown kindness that is also revealed later in the story.

Sunshine Cleaning for a more jaded and perhaps cleverer soul, the books descriptions are unique, entirely not politically correct, and your basic riot. The crime scenes Web is forced to clean are gruesome and seem true to life, told through the eyes of a man that can't get too upset about anything anymore and has no ability to emotionally connect with anyone. The description of a man committing suicide while holding water in his mouth is especially eye opening.

Death is a big departure from Huston's other works with which I am familiar, including the Joe Pitt Casebooks (I really was a fan of My Dead Body, not that that surprises anyone). I definitely wouldn't consider this part of his normal "pulp" genre, though the noir is clear enough. Overall, I had to say it was tight, well-written, and a quick read. A good book for the inner asshole we all have. I