Thorn: Updike on terrorism? A Hollywood nanny's tale? It wasn't a critic's year

Published December 9, 2006 at midnight

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Imagine trying to pan for gold - while blindfolded.

Reviewing books is something like that. You pick a book out of the pile long before the bulk of reviews come out (Is it any good? Hey, you're the one who's supposed to tell everyone else) and hope you'll discover something of worth. In this painstaking process, one thing is nearly certain: You'll hit fool's gold more often than not.

And that pretty much sums up my year of reading. Looking over the list of books I chose, I see so many that just didn't pan out, for a host of reasons.

Some titles were truly dreadful: The True Adventures of a Hollywood Nanny? What was I thinking? And kudos to John Updike for tackling the subject of terrorism, but sheesh, I didn't buy a word of his awkward, contrived new novel, Terrorist.

Others were absorbing and well- written but fell just short of unforgettable for me: Philip Roth's Everyman, T.C. Boyle's Talk, Talk, Frank McCourt's Teacher Man, Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, Nathaniel Philbrick's Mayflower.

And maybe it would have been pure gold, but, alas, I didn't quite work up the stamina to tackle Thomas Pynchon's 1,000-plus page opus Against the Day. Let's face it: I'd have to build up my biceps first - and who has time with the holidays so fast approaching?

That said, here are a few titles I thoroughly enjoyed in 2006 (for space reasons, I've omitted publishing information on books already summarized in the main lists):

Favorite novel: The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. I kept wondering how McCarthy was making me turn pages in this post-apocalyptic novel with only the slimmest of plots. But McCarthy knows just what he's doing: Tragedy, despair, hope and the deepest love humans can offer one another - it's all here in mesmerizing abundance. This is a journey paved with unforgettable prose and an ending that's pure poetry.

Favorite guilty pleasure: I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman, by Nora Ephron. Guys, talk among yourselves. Ladies, listen up: You can read this little slip of a book while your hair color is processing, and trust me - it will revive you just as much. Ephron tells it like it is about aging and women's lives, with insights on everything from purses to plastic surgery. She's funny without being trite, poignant without being sappy, and she says what we're all thinking: Aging sucks - not to mention a wrinkled, wobbly turkey neck.

Favorite graphic novel: Chicken With Plums, by Marjane Satrapi (Pantheon Books, $16.95). While others offered interesting stories, including Alison Bechdel's Fun Home, Satrapi makes my list for the third time in nearly as many years for the way she expands the genre's possibilities. This time, Satrapi tells the story of her great uncle, a musician who takes to his bed after his beloved instrument is broken. Satrapi gives the story a fable-like air, with dream sequences and flashes backward and forward in time that make the slim book much greater than the sum of its parts.

Favorite Iraq book: Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq, by Thomas E. Ricks. Favorite is probably the wrong term to use with this growing category of books. Perhaps most jaw-dropping would work better. In any case, Fiasco is one of the most complete accounts you'll read on how the Bush administration, decision by wrongheaded decision, created a situation that literally blew up in its face. Call the dentist: You'll need one after grinding your teeth through this grim account of the road to Iraq and the missteps made once we arrived.

Favorite memoir: The Caliph's House, by Tahir Shah. I almost stopped myself from listing this book, which seems a bit lightweight for a best-of wrap-up. But it's the title I found myself most often recommending to all kinds of people all year long. Caliph's House is the story of what happens when Shah moves his family to an old, run-down palatial estate in Morocco only to find that local superstitions hamper his every move. There are plenty of laughs and insights into the Moroccan culture, and hey, it's always fun watching someone else learn that age-old lesson: Be careful what house you wish for, you just may move in one day.

Favorite book I finally caught up to: Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson (Picador, $14) Last year's Pulitzer Prize winner - narrated by a preacher in failing health writing a letter to his young son - starts out slow. But if you stick with it, soon enough the protagonist's essential good-heartedness and wisdom draw you in like a whisper until, finally, reading this book feels something like being wrapped inside a prayer. Would that I were Robinson and could come up with a more vivid description.

That, my friends, is that. I'll hope to find a few more gems in 2007 than I did this year. And, heck, I may even tackle Pynchon. If it's worth its weight in gold, that would be a fortune indeed.

Patti Thorn is the books editor. thornp@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-5419

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