- Sue Kwong
This winter, the Reader has set a humble goal for itself: to determine the Greatest Chicago Book Ever Written. We chose 16 books that reflected the wide range of books that have come out of Chicago and the wide range of people who live here and assembled them into an NCAA-style bracket. Then we recruited a crack team of writers, editors, booksellers, and scholars as well as a few Reader staffers to judge each bout. The results of each contest will be published every Monday, along with an essay by each judge explaining his or her choice. The Reader reader who best predicts the judges’ rulings will win a trip to Mexico.
It could be argued that Augie is meant to be an everyman and, as such, shouldn’t be extraordinary; there’s not much that’s more universal than looking for a direction in life. But his spinelessness goes far beyond the call of duty for an everyman. As the book progresses, the people Augie knows develop plans to get what they want, and he goes along with them. Occasionally, in a fit of independence, he refuses, but that’s about as far as his self-determination goes. Meanwhile his brother Simon decides what he wants and makes it happen; it turns out that entails making lots of money and acting like an entitled asshole once he has it, but there’s still something to be said for having a vision.
There’s a certain grittiness to Magellan, especially the parts about the Mafia, but also a thread of dreaminess that runs throughout. “We Didn’t,” a story about Perry and his girlfriend not consummating their relationship, is surprisingly and unrelentingly charming. And in “Orchids,” Perry’s fascination with the beauty of Chicago’s industrial landscape gets him in trouble when he takes his prom date to Shit Creek.
“Dawn? Dawn ain’t for at least two hours. You’re looking at the furnaces across the lake in Gary,” he starts to explain, then pauses, snorting laughter. “You two dupas thought Gary, Indiana, was the dawn!”
