I had heard high praise for “The Sparrow,” but I was disappointed by the amateurish writing. Russell clearly loves her characters to a fault, lingering too long over their every precocious detail, stopping the movement of the plot too often to dump their histories as soon as they are introduced. Point of view is also a problem, as Russell employs third person omniscient to ensure that not a single detail is lost to the reader, using a far too chatty authorial voice that tells us much but shows us little. The result is a book with flawed perspective and no style, from a writer who is imaginative enough but lacking in the storytelling ability needed to craft an enjoyable book. The need to learn the fate of the expedition will keep you turning the pages, but this is certainly not a book for readers who read for the love of good prose.

I’ve been meaning to read this since May.

Some of Barthelme’s stories are too abstruse or precious for their own good. And then some of Barthelme’s stories are simply marvelous, near-perfect constructions that make games of form, language, and genre—sometimes hilariously deadpan and ironic, but rarely insincere or false.

Borrows much from O’Brien’s “The Third Policeman,” which was unpublished during his lifetime. A fun little satire, though, having read “The Third Policeman” first, I have to say that I prefer that book for its fantastic and nightmarish qualities.

Perhaps not as lavish as one might hope, but an excellent little volume nonetheless. The book is bound in a non-slick, textured cover that is pleasing to the hands, and the cover itself sports a charming illustration of the main characters by G.K. Chesterton himself. Gardner’s introductory essay does a fine job of explicating the text, while the footnotes fill in many of the details. Many footnotes should be especially helpful to those (like me) who are utterly unfamiliar with London. Nicely illustrated throughout.

Strange, violent, and funny prose fragments and plays from two lesser known Soviet writers. One of my most exciting finds this year.

The art in “Nevermen” is both cluttered and exquisite, evocative somehow of “Little Nemo in Slumberland” and perfectly suited for the steampunk-noir setting; the writing is not bad at all—halfway through the book, I found myself wishing that I had bought the second book, too. This is a series to watch.

Reading JLB’s essays is as much a pleasure as reading his short fictions, and there is much continuity between his efforts in both forms, both in style (think “Pierre Menard” and “The Theologians”) and in theme (paradox, coincidence, recurrence, etc.). The ironic detachment of Borges’s stories, however, is replaced here with a clear and irresistible enthusiasm, like that of an eager student. I cannot understate what a tremendous joy it is to read these remarkable essays.

Something of a disappointment after the first Nevermen trade paperback. Guy Davis’ already exemplary art is a bit cleaned up and less busy, but the storytelling seems rushed this time, and the plot is never really given a chance to unfold.

My girlfriend wants us to be Nick and Nora for Halloween, but I can’t possibly drink that much.