If you enjoy Victorian literature, this is a glorious read. Take Jane Austen and Charles Dickens and then mix in a bit of Neil Gaiman (there's even a story set in Wall) and you've got a delightful mix. Clarke's use of language is magnificent, and the subject matter of these short stories takes the reader on a trip through both Faerie and England. This is a wonderful follow-up to Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell.

A complex, intertwined narrative featuring two key players, Kafka on the Shore meanders back and forth between a 15-year-old Japanese runaway who calls himself Kafka and an elderly man, Nakata, who is "slow" due to an accident suffered in childhood. While each story is basically an entity into itself, Kafka and Nakata are connected through a very significant incident that eventually leads them to the same city.

Kafka sets on his path as he is hoping to avoid a fate his father has predicted. Never able to connect to the man, Kafka's opinion deteriorates when his father predicts he will be murdered by Kafka, and then Kafka will go on to sleep with his mother and sister. It all sounds a lot like any number of Greek tragedies, which is probably no mistake as Murakami references these throughout the book.

Kafka ends up finding shelter at an unsual library, which becomes his home and refuge for a period. Meanwhile, Nakata is on his own path. Able to exist thanks to a government subsidy arranged by his family, Nakata earns a little money on the side by finding lost cats. He is able to do this because he is one of the few people - perhaps the only person - who can speak their language. His occupation eventually leads him to a man who calls himself Johnny Walker. Their encounter directly links him to Kafka, and puts Nakata on a quest of his own.

Kafka on the Shore relies heavily on a variety of dream worlds, so that at times even the "real world" story has an ethereal feel to it. It's difficult to describe without revealing too much, but the book is quite entrancing.

Absurdistan chronicles the adventures of Misha Vainberg, a character who puts me in mind of a Russian Ignatius J. Reilly. Like the infamous character in A Confederacy of Dunces, Misha is hugely fat, comments frequently on his toilet habits, and is on his own personal quest - though it's not quite the same as that of Reilly's.

Misha loves the United States. Thanks to his father's decision to send him to America for college, Misha has experienced all that the US has to offer and he likes it. He loves the food, he enjoys the music (especially rap) and he misses his Bronx girlfriend, Rouenna, terribly. Trouble is, he's back in Russia and is no longer allowed to travel to the US thanks to the fact that his father killed a man from Oklahoma. With help from friends, Misha hatches a plan to break through the red tape. He'll journey to Absurdsvanï, where he'll be able to obtain a Belgian passport and sneak his way overseas. Of course, complications arise when fighting breaks out in the small nation. The airport is closed, and Misha is stranded. Havoc and hilarity ensue.

Absurdistan can be very, very funny. It can also be quite graphic when it comes to descriptions of sexual acts, which Misha is quite prolific at performing throughout the novel. While the book is compulsively readable, I sometimes found myself wondering what the point was. Early on, Absurdistan seems to present itself as a reflection on 9/11 from a different point of view, and while Misha's story takes place in the days leading to the tragedy, the dots are never really connected. Author Gary Shteyengart is gifted when it comes to style. I'm hoping his next effort provides a little more substance.

Honestly, I just don't even know what to say about Chuck Palahniuk's Rant. Generally, I would not describe myself as a Palahniuk fan. And as far as Rant is concerned, I received an advance copy so it wasn't precisely a book I would go out and choose to read. I haven't particularly enjoyed past Palahniuk books.

Rant is compulsively readable, if a little too mind-bending. It is written as an oral biography, in the tradition of books like George Plimpton's biography of Truman Capote or Legs McNeil's The Other Hollywood. What this means is that the author appears to have interviewed a number of people and then set down their words in print verbatim. Obviously, Rant is fictional, so all of these interviews are made up, but it is an interesting technique and is good for bringing a plethora of unreliable narrators into the fray.

Rant is the story of an infamous character named Rant Casey, AKA Buster Casey, AKA Buddy Casey. We hear the events of this man's life through many personalities - his mother, childhood friends, and a cadre of "party crashers", people who engage in a game that has them driving around in ridiculously decorated cars as they try to crash into one another without completely destroying their vehicles. Rant is believed to be a mass murderer - he has rabies and has spread it to a degree that the illness has become a pandemic. And yet, this isn't the weirdest thing about him. To reveal much more would sort of destroy the story, though I think Palahniuk lays out all clues in very plain sight. It's a strange book, and yet it's nearly impossible to put down.

Ian McEwan remains one of my favorite writers working today, and On Chesil Beach provides testament as to why. As with his previous books, detail is key. McEwan places the reader so solidly in the story that it feels as though you're standing right alongside the main characters.

The novella centers around a brand new married couple and the events of their wedding night. The story is set in the late 50s, when sexual mores were obviously significantly different than they are today. Both husband and wife have serious hangups and fears going into the big night, and we flash forward and backward to see the evolution of their relationship. The story is brutally realistic, but beautifully told. McEwan is able to write sentences so sublime that they require reading and re-reading. As with all McEwan novels on my list, this one is highly recommended.

Although it is a slight book, Firmin is certainly an enjoyable book for readers. Because Firmin is a rat who literally devours literature (and learns to read in the process), many old favorites are covered with humor, intelligence and wit.

I primarily found myself liking Firmin because it made me mindful of Watership Down - but with a rat instead of rabbits. Firmin the rat is a tragic figure in that he is highly intelligent with no way of conveying that fact. His life is in turns funny and tragic depending on the day. Words are everything, and he almost feeds on them more than the actual stuff that would actually sustain a rat in real life.

The book is brief at only 148 pages, and is an easy, quick and rewarding read. For a first novel, it's definitely a winner though I do wish there was a little more to it.

This graphic novel is not for the soft-hearted. I've been a fan of Brian K. Vaughan's thanks to his work on comic series like Y the Last Man and Runaways, and thought Pride of Baghdad sounded like something a little different than what he might normally do. In fact, it turns out to a lot like Grant Morrison's We3, which also deals with animals and is harrowing in similar ways.

Pride of Baghdad is based on a true story about four lions who escaped from the Baghdad zoo when the U.S. began bombing the city according to George W. Bush's orders. Niko Henrichon has created some magnificent art for the story - the lions have expressive faces, a snapping turtle changes things up a bit, and evidence of explosions and other scary war-type stuff is everywhere.

While I do generally recommend the book, animal-lovers who had trouble with movies like March of the Penguins might be best advised to stay away. For Vaughan fans, the story is more simple than is customary, but appropriate to the real-life material on which it is based. Surprisingly, there isn't much by way of political opinion here, so those who might have been turned away by ideas that differ from their own can feel comfortable picking the book up.

Julia Slavin's Carnivore Diet is evocative of a series of dream sequences. The story unfolds through the point of view of two characters - Dylan Dunleavy and his mother Wendy. Things begin as we become acquainted with Dylan, a teenager who has a job voicing a cartoon rat. Trouble is, his voice has gotten too deep and he cannot continue playing the character, a boy. That's not the crux of the story, though. Things get going when Dylan tells the reader about a mythical creature known as the chagwa. Oddly, attacks taking place in his neighborhood bear a strong similarity to those supposed to have been done by the chagwa.

When the perspective switches to Wendy's, we get substantially more detail. She and Dylan have been left alone in their home as their father/husband is in jail for apparent improprieties committed as a senator. Problems get worse when the chagwa becomes real in their neighborhood, and sets its appetite on Dylan. Wendy medicates to cope, and Dylan is left in the lurch as he stresses about his lost job and the fact that he is the prey of choice for a creature that seems impossible to destroy.

The book is compelling and almost impossible to put down until the final act, when things take a turn for the weird. It's probably strange to say that things turn weird in a book that is entirely odd to begin with. And yet, the abrupt change in tone just doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the book.

I still definitely recommend Carnivore Diet for anyone who is interested in fresh female voices in fiction. If the concept of the chagwa intrigues you, the book will definitely be rewarding.