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MouthSounds, originally uploaded by ubs_blogger.

Stephen Elliott

Stephen Elliott, who wrote one of my favorite recent novels, is blogging at The Elegant Variation for the next few days. Check him out.

From our "Better Late Than Never" department...

che, originally uploaded by ubs_blogger.

Every month, our own Nick DiMartino chooses his favorite recent title and crafts a more indepth review than our regular staff favorites.

His November pick? Brief Encounters with Che Guevara by Ben Fountain .

Here's what Nick says about it:

"I have been hearing critics rave about the stories in Ben Fountain's
Brief Encounters with Che Guevara, but up until a couple weeks ago I hadn't even picked it up for a simple reason: I'm not that crazy about short stories.

"What possessed me to read the first one? I don't know. I've already
told you that it literally drove me to peek at the ending, and I still
wasn't right. What an exhilarating reading experience! Well, the whole dang book is that good.

"Along with great plotting and an honest look at the real world today,
these stories are so gorgeously written that the language would have
been enough. And there's so much more!

"Of the eight stories, I think four are flat-out masterpieces. What's
your take?"

Staff favorites

Abor, originally uploaded by ubs_blogger.

Busking

We have our share of street musicians on the Ave. One stands in front of the store and sings soul classics.

He has a repetoire of maybe four tunes. "Lean on Me" is a biggie.

It seems he's added "The Star-Spangled Banner."

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for the singing of a patriotic number. But now, every 20 minutes, I have to stop what I'm doing, stand up, and put my hand over my heart. It's really killing my productivity.

John Moe answers the most important questions he will ever answer...

John Moe, a local public radio personality and gosh-darned funny guy, wrote a book. It's called Conservatize Me, and it concerns a one-month project Mr. Moe undertook to find out whether or not a steady diet of conservative media would turn the mind of a diehard liberal.

To find out the answer, read the book. But for now, read the interview:

1) Of the books you've read recently, which one made you angriest because someone else wrote it instead of you? Why?

That’s easy. John Hodgman’s The Areas Of My Expertise. Screamingly, shockingly, alarmingly funny and so damn smart as well. But beyond that, it’s a book of fearless humor. It’s so extreme, so bizarre, and so brave. A lot of the time with joke making, you start to riff on something and end up pretty far down a dark and weird hallway of humor and then you try to bring it back to some sort of conventional reality and applicability. Hodgman, however, goes further down that hallway and through the doors and into the laundry chute and then out into space.

2) A literary feud is a great way to get some publicity for a book. Who will you be starting a feud with and why?

I thought about taking on Obama since he was on tour at the same time as me. I was going to declare my possible inkling of beginning to think about the option of perhaps running for President maybe, and then launching a series of vicious personal attack ads that were both untrue and libelous. But my 6-year-old is a huge Obama fan so I’'ll leave him alone.

I’m tempted to start a feud with Lee Greenwood, who I talk about a lot in Conservatize Me. I’d feud with him because he sucks so bad and his singing sounds like a donkey being strangled with an electrical cord. If I met Lee Greenwood there would be two hits: me hitting him and him hitting the floor. And then there would be one more hit: me hitting him again while he’'s on the floor.

But he’s not a writer. So I’m left with once again calling out that jerk Chaucer. You and me, Geoffrey. Octagon.

3) During your time hanging out with conservatives, how many heads of prominent evangelical organizations and influential congressmen came on to you?

Weirdly, none. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. In fact, it’s funny, just last night I nudged Trent Lott awake and asked him that same thing.

4) Say something nice about University Book Store.

The University Book Store has a highly imaginative name. See, when you think about it, it is located near the University of Washington and sells books. So there you go!

Also, it’s a place that my sisters used to talk about as if it were a holy shrine. I’m the youngest of four and had two sisters who went to UW. They would describe this store as this big cool place where all the cool people went to get their cool things. I dreamed that some day I would visit it. Now I have a book for sale there and it’s just as cool. Of course my sisters would also talk about how cool the Last Exit coffeehouse and the Lox Stock and Bagel were also and we see what happened to them. Sorry, U Book Store. Your days are numbered!

5) Any closing remarks?

I have two adorable children who need food. Buy my book. Plus, it’s funny and insightful and makes a great gift and all that. But really, do it for my kids.

A scene from a book...

I found this on my voicemail once:

"Look," I said, sounding much too angry, "I didn't send that note. An ex-friend of mine did it as a joke." I looked at her, felt ugly and stupid.

She said, "Oh," and stared at the ground with her lips slightly apart, wounded possibly.

I wanted to cry now. I turned completely around and watched the soccer game. Margie's brother Donny smacked Pat Doolan in the neck with his cast and O'Leary blew the whistle.

"I just wanted you to know I didn't write it," I said. I dug a heel into the new wispy grass and turned it, grinding. I glanced back at her. She nodded without looking at me and her hands tightened in her lap.

"I didn't really think you wrote it," she said.

"Well, I didn't. See you around." I hunched my shoulders and walked away, hands in pockets, sick in love with her and furious now at myself. I whirled and stared. Margie brushed her hair back, twisting it over gold with a little turn of her hand, an awkward, innocent imitation of what a woman would do, and she looked very small and vulnerable and I wanted to hold her. I walked back to her.

I kept my eyes on her hands. "I'm real sorry, I mean if I sounded real mean just then," I bumbled. "I was only mad about the joke."

"It's okay. Thanks for being honest, Francis."

My name, softening out of her mouth, the magic little combination of teeth, lips, and tongue, stunned me like a cherry bomb did once, too near, the world exploding into clear, startling quiet. My attraction to her at that moment tugged so heavily I was actually leaning down towards her, and her least gesture became unbearably precious, the delicate closing of her mouth, her fingers relaxing in her lap, the sudden soothing green of her upturned eyes. Her awareness of me made the entire universe a shimmering drunken joy.

It's from The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys by Chris Fuhrman, a book about a 14-year-old Catholic School boy in the 70's.

Fuhrman died of cancer in 1991. He was 29, and had just finished his first novel.

I love that book, Doc. Thanks for introducing me to it.

Campus Thank You Night, The Day After

Quite a little shindig last night. I spent most of it shelving.

But I did walk away from my cart full of books for a few minutes to listen to a band play on our loading dock.

They were called Meisce. They're from right here in Seattle. They rule. Go see them.