CHRISTINA ROUX

I offer myself as living proof that people actually do come from Orlando, Florida. Having spent years travelling to and fro along a rather desolate stretch of I-10 for Jazz Fests and summer vacations, I finally moved to New Orleans in the fall of 2001. My husband and I live Uptown with our cats, Miranda and Josephine, and way, way too many books.

The Water-Method Man by John Irving (fiction)
John Irving's second novel, hilarious and intricate, lacks the epic quality of his later books but makes up for it with an energy that is truly invigorating. Told from several perspectives, the story revolves around the trials and (less frequent) tribulations of Fred "Bogus" Trumper, a soon-to-be-divorced graduate student with a defective urinary tract, a looming thesis, and a dangerous film project. I loved everything about this novel, including the opening line: "Her gynecologist recommended him to me." It remains my favorite Irving novel to this day. (Owen who?)

Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger (fiction)
If you've read Nine Stories then you know what happens to Seymour, but don't let that stop you from reading this installment in the Glass family saga. The children of Salinger's fabled family are tormented geniuses--some more so than others--with lots of baggage. In another novel, this sort of despair might be treated as merely a symptom of the under-stimulated over-privileged, but not here. Salinger is a master, and his empathy really shines through.

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (fiction)
Toole's comic masterpiece, published posthumously, details the (mis)adventures of Ignatius J. Reilly, a large, eccentric New Orleans bachelor whose moral outrage doesn't quite jive with his slovenly lifestyle. From the opening passage: "In the shadow under the green visor of the cap Ignatius J. Reilly's supercilious blue and yellow eyes looked down upon the other people waiting under the clock at the D.H. Holmes department store, studying the crowd of people for signs of bad taste in dress." A must-read for both residents and visitors. (They should hand out copies at the airport!)

When Nietzsche Wept by Irvin Yalom (fiction)
I think it's safe to say that Irvin Yalom is an over-achiever; not only is he a professor of psychiatry at Stanford and the author of several well-respected psychotherapy texts, he is also a novelist--and a darn good one, at that. This book accomplishes what many historical novels fail to do, by delving into not only the actions but the pysches of some of recent history's most prominent figures. Frederich Nietzsche, crippled by migraines which leave him bed-ridden for days on end, calls upon the expertise of Josef Breuer, a physician, and Breuer's student, the young Sigmund Freud, whose new "talking cure" is slowly taking root in Vienna. The story is so beautifully realized, I had to continuously remind myself that I was reading fiction.
 
The Corrections by Jonathen Franzen (fiction)
The only word for prose like this is "athletic." Read it. Twice.

Straight Man by Richard Russo (fiction)
Hank Devereaux is "not the kind of man who." Still, that doesn't prevent him from getting into all sorts of trouble in this ribald and raucous novel from the author of Pulitzer prize-winning Empire Falls. As the head of an under-funded English department, Hank faces the terrible task of putting aside his own laid-back ambivalence to deal with the demons and demands of his staff. I don't want to give away too much here, but I will say that Hank's solution to his problems involves the abduction and subsequent ransom of a campus goose.

Birds of America by Lorrie Moore (fiction, short stories)
Lorrie Moore's stories are funny, sad, precise, evocative, and never predictable. Her prose is such that every word seems essential, every image relevant and palpable. I've read this collection several times, cover to cover, and it just keeps getting better. If everyone wrote this well, more people would read.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers (memoir)
The title says it all. When people ask what this book is about, I usually say something like "it's an account of the twenty-something author's struggle to raise his much younger brother after the proximal deaths of their parents," but that doesn't even begin to describe the power and beauty of this story.