April's reading list

A few more books to add to this year's tally:

• A Fire Upon the Deep, Vernor Vinge.



• Hello Kitty: The Remarkable Story of Sanrio and the Billion Dollar Feline Phenomenon, Ken Belson and Brian Bremner. I'm a sucker for Hello Kitty anything, so I naturally picked this up. "This book explains how Sanrio, the company behind Hello Kitty, turned a cute cartoon cat into a multi-billion dollar global commodity." Well, yeah, sort of, but it left me wanting more information. They talk about the evolution of Sanrio and its marketing strategy, and have a brief overview of Japanese pop culture, but I came away feeling like I'd just read 200 pages of fluff. One thing that was definitely missing was a good editor: at several points the authors repeat something that has already been discussed earlier in the book using almost identical words. More than once I had to check to make sure I hadn't accidentally flipped back to an earlier chapter.



• The Devil's Highway: A True Story, Luis Alberto Urrea. I think no matter what side of the immigration debate you come down on, you need to read this book. (I will say though that it's not for the faint of heart; after reading this book, you'll be well acquainted with the symptoms accompanying each stage of hyperthermia.) It's the story of the Yuma 14, part of a group of 26 men and boys who had the misfortune to cross the border with a relatively inexperienced Coyote who got them lost in the Cabeza Prieta desert. Twenty six went in, twelve came out alive. Urrea tells a powerful and moving story, and puts a human face on all the actors involved -- the walkers, the Coyote, La Migra. As one of the Amazon reviewers says, "Urrea has done a superb job citing facts about one of the world's deadliest border crossings; read this book, and you'll cry in sorrow and rage at what people endure to reach the US." I was in tears by the end of this book, and it's even more overwhelming to realize that every single day there are others dying the same agonizing death (not to mention being poisoned or shot by locals who've deemed themselves unofficial border guards) while trying to come north; it only makes news when the numbers are large.
  
  

  Dawns offered an astonishment of birds. In the scrub and mesquite hollows, there were more songbirds than could be heard in the Rocky Mountains. Crows, sparrows, mockingbirds. The cactus wren would have been making his small noises as he went about his business. A scintillation of singing and squabbling cut into the silence. Feral parrots might have fluttered greenly across the sky, arguing their way toward Tucson. A hawk riding a thermal sounding his "scree."
  
  The almost cool air hugging the hardpan, not yet ignited by the white flames of the sun, felt blue. It moved slowly with the last stalling breezes of night. Where the predators had made their kills, white down and scattered gray pinfeathers waved like seaweed in a tide. Crickets, wasps, bees. A rusty understory of insectile melody.
  
  Before the heat dropped on their heads, the lost men were drowned in music.