A curious, charming literary hybrid that combines autobiography, musings on the author's favorite writers, and meditations on the nature of storytelling. As if to underline its eccentricity, it includes hand-painted versions of the books that the author discusses. The author comes off throughout the book as a man obsessed, a compulsive reader who reads as soon as he wakes up, just before he goes to sleep, and most other times between. I'm a fairly consistent reader, but Orner is in another category altogether. The sort of people who's lives are wholly consumed by books may find a kindred spirit in the author.

As literary analysis, "Am I Alone Here," although it cites specific passages from specific works, favors big-picture analysis, which, in my opinion, makes it a better read. Orner wants to know what makes a story work, why we tell and write stories, how stories connect with our lives. His take on the story is holistic and not mechanical: he's open to surprise and innovation and is happy to leave some questions unresolved. This is a meditation on storytelling, not a writing guide, and it's probably better for it. As an autobiographer, Orner seems very much at peace with the fact that he's lived a somewhat unconventional, disjointed life that has been wholly consumed by books and writing. He discusses his large, colorful family, his troubled relationship with his late father, a marriage that didn't work out, time spent in late-nineties Prague, and his life as a husband and father. While Orner can be remarkably insightful about life and literature, to his credit, this isn't one of those memoirs that tries to convince the reader that the author has resolved his problems, learned some lessons, and moved on. While it's ending is frustratingly inconclusive, the book makes it clear that the author is still in the process of mourning his father, becoming a better writer, and finding his place in the world. Indeed, books seem to be one of the only constants in it, something that many fellow bibliophiles may appreciate.

As other reviewers have mentioned, many of the author discusses here are rather obscure, and while that makes "Am I Alone Here" a less immediately engaging read than it otherwise might have been, I also picked up a Kindle edition of Brohumil Hrabal's "Too Loud a Sloitude" for two dollars because it was mentioned here. He describes how, after he finished it in a Prague park, he felt so happy that he waved it around like a madman and believed that he'd had a genuinely religious experience. It's a story that's rather representative of "Am I Alone Here" as a whole and also one heck of a recommendation. Hardly the most linear book I've ever read, but "Am I Alone Here" is recommended to writers and hopeless bibliophiles alike. ( )

This wins the most unconventional memoir award, as it's described as "a book of unlearned meditations that stumbles into memoir.” (Say what?)

Mr. Orner, a professor, poses questions on literature and life and the reader is invited into this, at times, existential exploration. At first blush the book appears pedantic, but have courage readers, Am I Alone Here? is affecting on so many levels.

The author's true love is the short story, mixed with poetry and the occasional novel. Each chapter shows a rendering of the book cover, reviews the story (or poetry), gives background on the author (many of which were unknown to me) and then, how the story relates to Mr. Orner's own life.

Mr. Orner is a thinker -- a ponderer and as with many artists he struggles with the meaning of his life as it relates to his gift...and gifted he is. There's some staggeringly beautiful writing on display here.

On reading a book of poetry by an obscure poet:

"Books pursue us. I've always believed this. I dug Herbert Morris out of the free bin outside Dog Eared Books (San Francisco). What compelled me to stop that day? How can I express my gratitude to a poet who never sought it, who only wanted me to know his creations, not their creator? An how many others might be out there, somewhere, under all this noise, tell us things we need to hear?"

I must admit I skipped around while reading Am I Alone Here? and found some bits more interesting than others. The format is unusual which allows for picking and choosing chapters to suit. And the chapter titles -- so intriguing:

Euroda Welty, Badass; Shameless Impostors; Surviving the Lives We Have; My Father's Gloves; Night Train to Split: Unforgiveable

Don't you just want to see what they'll offer? My Father's Gloves is a tender tribute to his father and, unless you're a hard case, will bring tears to your eyes.

Sometimes heavy, often cynical, but always probing, and insightful-- Am I Alone Here offers plenty to think about long after you've finished. An as an added bonus, if you're like me, you'll come away with a whole new list of authors and poets to explore.
See more at http://www.bookbarmy.com ( )

I am not a lover of the short story, as this author is, but he did persuade me to look at certain stories in a different way, to value the way a short story can give a glimpse of a moment in time, a snapshot of a life or an incident. In this book of essays, Peter Orner features a different author and one of their writings, in each chapter. Most of the chapters describe a short story, and it’s impact on his life, although a few do mention novels. Throughout the book, the author tells much about his own life, and some chapters are much more autobiographical than others. I always enjoy hearing how reading has impacted a person’s life, and this was an enjoyable read. ( )

I apologize for my late review, as I read this book months ago. I had high expectations because books about books is a favorite topic of mine. Peter Orner writes well, but I was unable to relate or identify with him and I found myself skimming through most of the chapters. Additionally, the books he highlighted were so obscure to me, I was not compelled to explore the works mentioned. This is a book worth picking up, if you appreciate musingings and thoughtful introspection. ( )

Presents stories as a means of explaining things to oneself. Thought provoking, but hard to relate to some of the more obscure references. ( )