Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
I was captivated the first time I heard the title, and knew I had to read it. There is unfortunately little mention of Potato Peel Pie, but the characters of the Guernsey Literary Society are well-drawn and amusing. The book is a series of letters between a London-based author, Juliet Ashton, and the members of the aforementioned Guernsey Island society. The events take place in 1946, and recall the events of World War II, particularly the German occupation of the British Channel Islands.
The place was unique enough that much of the historical information was new to me, despite my somewhat extensive knowledge of the time period. The book does not shirk, rather, it embraces, difficult material, but the focus is more on the characters and present events, so that it does not induce the heavy depression most Holocaust and World War II tomes aim at. This is an excellent book for all ages, it might be a bit incomprehensible to a four-year-old (one of the main characters is four), but most people over should be able to read (or be read to) and enjoy.
The plot lines are simplistic, but there are an appropriate number of twists to keep plot junkies interested. The real jewels are the characters, from "more beautiful at sixty than she could have been at twenty" Amelia Maugery, to mischievous Kit, enthusiastic potion-concocting Isola, stoic Eben, and quiet Charles Lamb fan and pig farmer, Dawsey Adams, there is rarely a dull moment. It may not be your deepest read in the year to come, but you won't regret it!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
All Kurt Vonnegut's books are the same. That is a blatant lie, and you should disagree with me. But his style, the sense of humor, the actual characters or at least the type of characters are the same, and the settings often are as well. There are always coincidences, rudely drawn pictures, and nothing makes any sense (just like real life).
Breakfast of Champions at least delves into Vonnegut's most recurring character, Kilgore Trout. The best parts of the book, in my opinion, are the plots of Trout's stories. Like Vonnegut, Trout is a science fiction writer whose writing demonstrates the chaos of the universe. His books and short stories are illustrated with unrelated pornographic pictures and sold only in pornography shops.
I was told that this book was difficult to understand, that there was confusing switching back and forth between narration. It was no more difficult than any other Vonnegut novel, in that regard. In fact, I think I find his stories so easy to get through because of that organization. It leaves less time to be bored and builds anticipation.
The one conceit that made this book a little different is Vonnegut's insertion of himself as a character, as the Creator of Kilgore Trout and his entire literary universe. Of course I have always loved the idea of Author as Creator, and by extension, Man as Creator. Kilgore Trout's answer to an anonymous scribbling in a bathroom, "What is the purpose of life?," is "To be the eyes and conscience of the Creator...you fool."
No matter what your religious persuasion or lack thereof, it is hard to disagree with that!
This book is certainly worth reading, it's quick, it has some fantastic one-liners and even better ideas. Unfortunately, it just seems that Vonnegut will never again have the magic for me that he once did. Finally, I remember thinking to myself when I first read Cat's Cradle, finally, an author who really understands the world. It's unfortunate his understanding never changed.
On a completely separate note, I MADE IT TO 50!!!!!
I do plan to keep going and see how many more I can read before Jan 1st.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
The first Gothic novel allegedly came to Walpole in a nightmare. That sort of surreal, look-over-your-shoulder feeling permeates this hundred-pager. It's set in the fictional kingdom of Otranto, where an ancient curse is about to overthrow the third-generation usurping ruler Manfred.
Walpole writes in his second preface (in the first he claims to be merely the translator of some Crusade-era Italian), that he wished to make his characters "think, speak, and act, as it might be supposed mere men and women would do in extraordinary positions (8)." While the speech is the high-flown type that would be expected of a romance, I do think Walpole largely achieved this goal. While the coincidences and adventures are amazing, the characters seem like people I know. Manfred's submissive wife Hippolita behaves out of loving and motherly motivations, even though in a way modern women might decry. Their daughter Matilda is the shy, dreamy little girl down the street. The princess Isabella is the good-natured, good-principled type with an appropriate dash of spice. Even the hero Theodore is not uber-manly or flat.
Castle of Otranto will take you through a maze with an uneasy feeling, leaving you flushed but satisfied. It's an old little gem, especially when you reflect that it was the first of its kind in a style that inspired the Brontes, and influenced Austen and Dickens.
49. The Famished Road by Ben Okri
I've spent a lot of time agonizing over what to say about this book. In the end, I think I enjoyed it, but I was definitely ambiguous at parts. The reason I didn't love it so much was the "indeterminacy" of meaning throughout. A lot of contradictory symbolism and metaphors are used and there are a lot of fanciful episodes that do not seem to be metaphoric. Okri is beyond anything I have ever encountered before, I would not quite classify this as stream-of-consciousness or magical realism, though it has elements of both.
The Famished Road is told from the point of view of Azaro, a boy growing up in a poor Nigerian compound. Azaro is a spirit child, one who has vowed to return to the spirit world as often as possible, and die unborn, premature, or early in childhood in the world of the living. The spirit child is an old Yoruba myth, and such children are feared and hated. Azaro, for this once, defies his friends and decides to stay. His life is filled with spirit visions and his friends in the other world constantly connive to bring him back to them.
Azaro's parents are both very full, interesting characters. His father works as a load lifter, but aspires to be a boxer. His mother hawks goods. Unlike everyone else around them, his parents risk beatings and censure in order to support "the Party of the Poor" against "the Party of the Rich."
The Famished Road is a legend often referred to in the book, of a road that gobbles up travelers. The road goes on and on forever, from the world of the living to the world of the spirits and everywhere between.
Aside from these very basic plot devices, the reader has to fashion all of the meaning. The only direction Okri points in is that there is none, but I think he was counting on his readers to defy him. Read it and decide for yourself.
One more to go!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
When I got home for Thanksgiving, I didn't intend to fully reread this childhood favorite, but between last night and this afternoon, I did. Obviously, I'm not the one making the meal! I remembered the charming characters and events and wanted to revisit those passages that bore resemblance to my own experience at college. I'm afraid my social life has not quite lived up to Anne's, but it hasn't fallen too short either. I haven't received so many proposals yet, but that contributes more to my relief than anything else.
Anne of the Island chronicles the college experience of Anne Shirley, formerly of Green Gables. Montgomery expresses many timeless sentiments through Anne and her "chums" and their house mother, Aunt Jamesina. They experience the pressures of studies and social lives, along with the rarely mentioned but present tension of being among few female students. Anne reflects on turning twenty, and the establishment of her character. Her friend Phil tries to conquer her general indecisiveness as well as decide who to marry. Sidenote: Philippa Gordon or "Phil" is one of my favorite characters in any book ever. She reminds me of a couple of my most light-hearted, impulsive friends. Anne wrestles with money woes, scholarly woes, literary woes, and romantic woes as well. She writes a story for which the most just criticism is her liberal descriptions of sunsets. Reading this book again, and paying attention to detail, those passages are interspersed everywhere. L.M could no more resist flowery descriptions than Anne, and while it is undeniably overkill, there is still something sweet in it, one feels she really did appreciate beauty that much.
I can never get enough references to fairyland and "kindred spirits," there is something one finds in the Anne books, and all Montgomery's books really, that you either relate to or you don't. It is like Aunt Jamesina's definition of gumption, " Any one who has gumption knows what it is, and any one who hasn't can never know what it is. So there is no need of defining it (206)."
Saturday, November 22, 2008
What if Don Quixote's peculiarity were transported across the European continent and English Channel, from the beginning of the seventeenth century to the end of the eighteenth, into the person of a young noble woman? Charlotte Lennox, a female novelist making her way in an England only beginning to respect her profession in men, and still somewhat disdaining fiction in favor of history, tried to answer this question. Yet, her use of Cervantes' form and style is to comment on the absurdities of her own society and perhaps particularly the position of women.
Arabella, the Female Quixote, is addicted to romances as the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance was to his novels of chivalry. She is raised in isolation, and only introduced into society at age eighteen, after the death of her father. Her uncle is appointed her guardian, and her male cousin Mr. Glanville falls in love with her, as her female cousin Miss Glanville envies her for her beauty and delights in exposing her absurdities.She entertains notions that any man who dares declare his love for her should be banished, which is difficult as she supposes all men perpetually besotted.
Arabella is also like the Don in that her sentiments can seem quite reasonable and admirable, when she is not discussing her favorite topic. Mr. Glanville's love for her is supposed to be based on this, and of course her beauty (as Lennox cannot omit this romantic prerequisite), but I had trouble sustaining belief in it. He is constantly exasperated and distressed at her fancies. He does not at all sympathize with her, nor is he even familiar with romances. In this respect, he reminds me of Mr. Darcy. He wishes to marry a woman whom he cannot respect. What kind of love is that? It is my modern opinion that if one cannot accept someone as they are, then you are not in love with that person, simply an idea of what they could be. In that way, he is as fanciful as herself.
The book is much shorter than its predecessor and so contains less amusing elements and ways of making its points. However, it is more straightforward, and while often in stylistic language, language that is still more accessible to today's readers. I would recommend The Female Quixote without scruple to fans of the Knight, readers of romances who might wish to poke fun at themselves, and those interested in the rise of British feminism.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Accordingly, at this time, I am officially increasing my total to 45, in order to appropriately acknowledge that massive effort.
I would also like to announce, lest anyone suggest I am shirking, that I am currently in the midst of; Northanger Abbey, Mrs. Dalloway, The Female Quixote, Brisingr, and The Famished Road.
So, if I finish all of those, or the other book I'm scheduled to read before the end of the semester i.e. The Castle of Oltranto, or any other work, of course, I will have reached my goal.
Support? Snaps? Something?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
This eighteenth century classic barely dignifies notice. This is over five hundred pages, in the eponymous character's letters, of expostulation on the proper behavior of a servant whose master wishes to rape her. Worse, Richardson is in dead earnest. Oh, sure, social commentary on the contemporary relationship between rich and poor, and Victorian ideals for women can be found here, but the popular conduct manuals of the time are probably comparatively fascinating. Pamela is an insufferable heroine, obsessed with her Virtue, and yet not possessed of the sense not to marry a man who several times attempted to rape her. The would-be rapist, Mr. B, is a wimp as a villain, as he never actually commits his intended crime, and yet he expects the (albeit complying) Pamela to yield to his every wish the instant he presents her with the coveted ring. A single passage from this novel is enough to confirm its subject, any historical or literary merit I doubt it contains, and the absolute lack of necessity of reading further.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
The idea behind Jekyll and Hyde, that every person actually has dual, or multiple selves, always interested me. Though Stevenson uses this premise to divide humans, or specifically men, as there are no female characters to speak of (though that itself adds to discussion), into moral opposites, I would like to take the theory in a more complicated direction.
I don't believe most people contain two innate selves, a good and a bad, but rather that people do have slightly differentiated personalities within them (and the degree of separation depends on the person), that have different motivations and temperaments, none of which are necessarily good or evil. I think Stevenson foresaw this way of thinking, and the story does tell us that most people are not quite so morally binary as Jekyll. The protagonist Mr. Utterson, in fact, from whose point of view proceeds the first part of the story, for those not familiar with it, is specifically described as without the violent passions or hidden shameful history of other men. This goes to show that Stevenson was not trying to make a blanket statement, but rather propose an idea that could be further refined.
Of course, I am reading this in terms of postmodernist? conceptions of the self, that are much more vague and open than those of Stevenson's day. My teacher suggests, as is apparently an accepted interpretation, that Stevenson was criticizing the constraints of society that pressured men into restraining themselves until they could no longer hold back and committed terrible crimes. He wasn't saying it about all men, just some. I don't know if I quite agree with that, but it's an interesting hypothesis. If criminals weren't so "constrained by society" would the worst deeds not happen? For example, would legal prostitution mean less rape? I don't know. Perhaps Stevenson would think so.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
These are two separate novellas included in an Oxford World Classics edition. The first could be categorized as a nineteenth century prototype for a genre that would become science fiction. The main character Latimer reminded me strongly of Mary Shelley's Victor Frankenstein and there are similar themes. For those of you not familiar with her, George Eliot was also a woman.
Latimer, in rich prose, describes his tragic transformation into a clairvoyant, a reader of the future and other peoples' minds. He discovers the petty motivations, negativity, or emptiness of all those around him and internalizes it. He is a romantic poetic type, but notably without the ability to create art. The object of his affection and subsequent horror is Bertha Grant, at first the only one immune to his powers.
The Lifted Veil, and Brother Jacob as well, boast gorgeous language and keen, though pessimistic, insight into human society and behavior.
Brother Jacob is lighter and more comical, it is the tale of a duplicitous confectioner and his comeuppance. I would recommend these for quick entertainment and lasting ponder value.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The Washington Post legitimately comments on the counterintuitive popular trend of "indie" movies, but I was surprised that there was not so much focus on the generational context.
"Indie" movies appeal to the current high school, college, and young adult crowds. Instead of criticizing Hollywood and filmmakers for being hypocritical or trying to capitalize on public opinion, why not call it out as a new trend that will inform the future of Hollywood? Maybe it's not really "indie," but it sure as hell is a lot better than "300."
I, for one, could deal with many more snarky comments on pop culture for years to come.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Probably the most shocking element of this eighteenth century pseudo-biography is the lack of chapter divisions.
The title page reads like that of a wanted poster or freak show advertisement of the era,
of the Famous
Who was Born in NEWGATE (famous London prison) blah blah blah Twelve Year a Whore, five times a Wife (whereof once to her own Brother) twelve Year a Thief etc.
I can appreciate that Moll is a very complex character, with many motivations (though primarily monetary), and that Defoe represents many crucial themes of his time including capitalism and moral responsibility. It also might be funny to see it marketed to trophy wives. However, really, the sensationalist reading of the eighteenth century does not have appeal for me, neither does Moll's rambling dialect. Leave this one to the scholars.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
I was impressed with Knightley's transition from a high-spirited, but still anxious to please girl of seventeen to a more jaded and decisive, but still emotional and anxious to please woman. Her character reminded me strongly of Marie Antoinette, though more in control of herself. The Duchess makes her statement through the womanly arts of fashion and motherhood, as well as plays and politics. It is refreshing to see a historical woman portrayed strongly and still emotionally sympathetic. In my studies on Elizabeth I, I looked at many of the recent films, and she is either an amenable passionate damsel, a cold bitch, or some unbelievable schizophrenic mixture. Helen Mirren in the HBO version does the best job, in my opinion. I felt that the issues of gender inequality were very well explored, and I appreciated the tight focus on the Duchess' personal life rather than on politics and the more general issues of the day. As far as I have been able to tell, it was very historically accurate, which is not usually the case. The "Becoming Jane" travesty being a prime example.
I would advise anyone with a general interest in historical fiction to see The Duchess, but also people interested in celebrities today would probably enjoy the scandals of her life.
Friday, October 3, 2008
I scored 6 out of a possible 12, but I'm going to guess that's higher than the average American.
I am still alive, per the title, but currently more occupied with the school year than my personal reading. Never fear though, I am in the midst of Moll Flanders and Northanger Abbey (a third or fourth reread) for class, and Brisingr for pleasure, though from what I've read so far, more just to find out what happens. Hopefully it will drastically improve as it goes on, or maybe I've finally graduated from Paolini's style. I could have sworn Eldest was a lot better written though.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Only one concept separates this book from a thousand others like it. Unfortunately, persecution is not a new or even relatively rare subject, and so it is often unnecessary to read more than a few of this genre before getting a taste of the pain often personally experienced by authors. The Septembers of Shiraz is fiction, but loosely based on the experience of the author's family.
The year is 1981. The place, Iran. The father of a wealthy Jewish family is imprisoned, innocent of the accusation-Zionist spy. Sofer alternates between the father's musing and experience in prison, his wife's anguishing search, his nine-year-old daughter's thoughts, and the feelings of his nineteen-year-old son attending university in New York. Some of the coincidences are unbelievable, such as that Shirin, the daughter, discovers a file on her uncle at a friend's house and hides it. Sofer stretches credibility unnecessarily, the sheer intensity of her story is enough to carry a plot.
What I never really considered, and has never been thoroughly discussed before (to my knowledge) in a situation like this, is a particular feeling of wealthy people who must leave their country to start over again with nothing. Obviously, they would miss the luxury, but Sofer makes the reader consider how objects can represent a family history, and a cultural, or personal identity. Even something as shallow as a handbag could be an important symbol of a need to control, or moving on to a new chapter in one's life.
Shahla, the father's sister, known for her materialistic indulgences, nonetheless makes a valuable point; "If we leave this country without taking care of our belongings, who in Geneva or Paris or Timbukto, will understand who we once were? (56)"
She invokes the fear and uncertainty of displacement of the self along with the stuff, fear of assimilation, and, though unstated, of the assimilation of one's children and descendents.
I found this even more interesting to contemplate, as my own grandfather and his family escaped Nazi Germany, ceding over their entire estate and business to do so. Undoubtedly, they were the lucky ones, their wealth helped them escape, but they had to start all over again with nothing in the Bronx. This consideration helped me to understand more the feelings of my great-grandparents. My Great Grandma brought over with her an ornate, expensive set of goblets, which were sold one by one to support the family. The last goblet, saved from its brethren's fate due to a chip in the rim, now rests in my family's dining room cabinet and serves as our Elijah's cup for Passover. Every time we glance at it, we are reminded of the hardship of our forebears. Based on that, I would concur with Sofer's thesis, that an object can be more than an object and can in fact make a difference.
Friday, September 5, 2008
I gave Kress another chance, and am so overwhelmingly glad I did. The Hugo and Nebula awards were well deserved.
Beggars in Spain is the story of humans genetically modified to be Sleepless, awake 24/7, never tiring, and how the "Sleeper" majority population turns on them. Sleepless, due to the way they are engineered, are happier, more intelligent, and live longer than Sleepers. As the first generation begins to grow up, Sleepers become jealous of their superhuman abilities and slowly begin to prohibit them from competitions and businesses, de facto or de jure, because of their unfair or "inhuman" advantages. The main character, Leisha Camden, is part of that first generation and she is born in 2008.
Kress deftly portrays the effects of American politics, ideals, and economics on the national social psyche. Americans strive to better themselves, thus the rise of the Sleepless, but a society based in individual achievement, with nothing for losers, will quickly try to eliminate competition and accumulate monopolies through any means possible, even hate and dissension. There were many insights I thought relevant to understanding our society today.
One of my favorite quotes is from Kress' projected New York Times editorial,
"The United States has never been a country that much values calm, logic, and rationality. We have, as a people, tended to label these things "cold." ...[the ellipses are my own] A peculiar aspect of this phenomenon is that it grows stronger in times of prosperity. The better off our citizenry, the greater their contempt for the calm reasoning that got them there, and the more passionate their indulgence in emotion (81)."
Just something to think about. I really recommend Beggars in Spain to anyone who loves science fiction and even people who do not, but are interested in economics or politics or sociology. The characters are easy to relate to and I did feel connected with them, but this is primarily a novel of astute observations about contemporary American society disguised in this imagined, but not implausible, scenario.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The title is my own clever nod to the Indian-American ABCD acronym. If you're curious, read Born Confused by Tenuja Desai Hidier. There's lyric prose for modern youth if there is any.
The Joy Luck Club was published in 1989 but it is a novel of 1940s China and 1950s and '60s U.S. More than a book, this is a collection of reflections from Chinese-born mothers and their American daughters. The New York Times Book Review, quoted on the back cover, used the word "vignettes." I like the sound of the word, and in this case the meaning is perfectly applicable as well.
It is not so much the stories that are important, though the history and sense of displacement are, but the feelings of the characters toward each other. The crux of the book is the never even close to breached chasm between an immigrant mother and assimilated daughter. The book is amusing in places, certainly tragic, even hopeful, but it reminds readers (poignantly) of what they already know.
This will be nostalgic or at least familiar for Chinese-American readers, and somewhat insightful for others. Amy Tan has a gift for capturing life as it is. I had been planning to read this for a while, and I also have The Bone Setter's Daughter unread on my shelf, though I don't know if I will get to it this year.
You don't read Rushdie for historical accuracy. However, I do love how this novel encompassed the coexisting worlds of Renaissance Italy, Mughal India, Persia, and the just discovered New World. I happen to think it was one of the most fascinating times in world history.
The novel is a series of stories within stories, with a charming disregard for chronology. You won't be able to keep track, especially at first, and it won't matter too much either, let Rushdie carry you gently from moment to moment. A yellow-haired stranger appears at the court of Akbar the Great (of India) with the tale that could loosely be called the Enchantress's. The cover asserts that this is a novel about women of the past reasserting themselves, and while this may be technically true, I wouldn't call this a book about female empowerment. The central female character forges her own destiny, yes, but she relies heavily on men, and seems to be very lost and confusing both to herself and the reader.
Instead, I might call it a not entirely successful attempt at redefining magical realism. Rushdie leads you on a path of wonders, only to stop abruptly with a plausible, and disappointing, explanation at every turn. A much more successful version of this technique would be Yann Martel's Life of Pi. Also, unlike Life of Pi, there is no clear message or purpose.
My favorite character was Akbar the Great. Rushdie fashioned him into a contradictory vain and benevolent philosopher-warrior. The inclusion of his imaginary wife Jodha, however, seemed weird and unnecessary. I don't want to get too nitpicky about historical accuracy, like I said before, but some of Akbar's philosophical rants sound too unbelievably modern.
Bookslut's Jessa Crispin mentioned the sex scenes were like "watching your father flirt with a waitress" or something equally awkward, and I can definitely see where she's coming from. All I can say is, it's fortunate there's little of it, but even more unfortunate that what there is makes me wonder if Rushdie has ever had a threesome.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Weisberger, the queen of modern chick lit, is definitely an author worth knowing. I read The Devil Wears Prada about three years ago after it had been a bestseller for quite some time. I'm the first to admit I tend to be a book snob, but though I may kid, I feel strongly that you should never be ashamed of what you are reading. Unless it is The Da Vinci Code. No. Kidding, really. Anyway, I was blown away by the quality of the prose and the product lust it inspired even in my staunchly anti-materialistic self. I've been looking forward this summer to another such delicious "trashy" read and carefully selected this one.
Everyone Worth Knowing is the kind of "good negative press" for public relations that The Devil Wears Prada was for fashion magazines. Bettina Robinson is a much more likable and stronger protagonist than Prada's Andy. Weisberger also made her secondary characters, Bette's best friend Penelope and gay uncle Will, strong, but to the cost of the lethal boss-and-coworker characterizations that dominated her debut. I think it was probably smart on Weisberger's part to play down that bit though, because she could never equal her portrayal of Miranda Priestly, rumored to be modeled on her own boss at Vogue. There are a few sly references to the fashion industry embedded in the book however, and public relations is certainly connected to that world and no less glamorous. What Weisberger does best is help her readers imagine themselves in a career that, no matter how the main character seems to hate it, seems thrilling and somehow above the ordinary. In Everyone Worth Knowing, she completes the fantasy and provides Bette with a seemingly perfect man, whom she attains after a series of requisite complications. The way Bette's public and personal life are entwined make the complications of a slightly different nature, but in the end, it's the same old story. I thought the love interest as a character was not well developed and the way he leaves Bette in the lurch for months and never apologizes did not seem ideal to me. Also, there is another man that she appears to be dating in order to boost her job, whose hiatus in the closet seemed very unrealistic. I greatly enjoyed Weisberger's use of romance novels as a motif, it reminded me of Cervantes' references to novels of chivalry. She sends a message loud and clear, women should never be ashamed of what they want, even if it is as cliche as a handsome, dashing stranger who will sweep you off your feet.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I read the English translation of this Egyptian novel published in 1959. I wanted more information on the author and a couple things in the book, and I found out that due to some sort of agreement between the author and a faction of the Egyptian government, this book is published abroad, but not in Egypt (it is published in Arabic in Lebanon however). Children of the Alley is an unabashed retelling of Biblical stories beginning with Adam, and continuing through Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, and a mysterious later character, as set in an Egyptian neighborhood. The names are different and the stories deviate slightly, but the allegories are clear. The narrative is far more straightforward, realistic and in keeping with a pessimistic interpretation of human nature than the holy books themselves. The God figure is Gabalawi, the father of Adham, and once he kicks out this beloved youngest son, he remains locked in his mansion for centuries while his descendants live in the alley below and fight over his estate. Gabalawi's long life is the only point in which credibility is stretched, otherwise there are no miracles. The style of the first section is elevated and hard to get into, but once the Gabal (Moses) section begins, the reader can become more invested in the characters and the writing style is more captivating. What I found most interesting were Mahfouz's deviations from the familiar stories that reveal his more subtle (though nothing is particularly hidden, as the back cover suggests) thoughts on human behavior and spirituality. The last character, Arafa, seems to be the equivalent of a modern scientist perhaps, part Einstein and part Nietzsche. I shared the surprise of another reviewer (linked to below), that Qassem (Mohammed) was not the last character in the cycle, as Mahfouz's Muslim upbringing would seem to necessitate. This novel would be a good text for someone engaged in religious or Middle Eastern studies, and for people interested in those topics.
An interesting analysis of the book: http://www.northern.edu/hastingw/mahfouz.htm
I also found a blog of the same title about modern Egypt: http://childrenofthealley.blogspot.com/
Kress is an award-winning science fiction writer, and I was excited to read one of her books, though apprehensive about the topic. A virulent plague attacks dogs, inducing them to violently bite and kill humans, even beloved owners and especially children. The plague is spread through the bites, and guess what? a form of the virus can be transmitted to bitten humans. The disease affects a suburb of D.C. and Kress tells the story from the viewpoint of a variety of townspeople. This book is so formulaic, it almost made me sick. If you have read any mystery or detective novel, ever, you know all the characters, you know who did it, and you know how it ends. Praise on the back of the book states that the characters "wrestle with a moral and ethical dilemma." I saw no evidence of this conflict in any character. Each was decided, from the outset, how to behave, whether to kill dogs in a bloody rampage, or save them at all costs. The only conflicts were external. One thing that particularly bothered me is that Kress has one character, the American wife of a Muslim man, bemoaning prejudice against Arabs, and then, lo and behold, there is an Arab terrorist involved. Why attack a stereotype and then propagate it yourself? I was initially worried about becoming attached to the dogs or other characters, and then watching them die, but that was certainly not a problem. None of the characters are compelling, and the dogs are mostly skimmed over, except to be cursorily described as "old" or "pitiful." I would recommend you skip this one, and I'm now rethinking reading any of Kress' other books, even the celebrated Beggars of Spain.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A friend of mine at sleepaway camp read Fast Food Nation back in 2003. We all listened bemused as she cited statistics such as the fact that Ronald McDonald was superseded only by Santa Claus in recognition among children. Schlosser investigates every imaginable aspect of the horizontally and vertically integrated fast food industry. He discusses issues like manipulation of immigrant (and other) workers both in slaughterhouses and restaurants, the dangers of foodborne illness in the likes of E. Coli 0157 : H57 and salmonella, and the effects of corporate power on the economy. Schlosser methodically takes the reader through every part of the slaughterhouse process. Even though I had never read a book on the subject before, most of what I learned was not new, though this time it was presented in a more personal manner. Workers are poor and often inept, or forced to work faster than they can while maintaining proper hygiene protocol. Meat is contaminated with feces or "shit" as Schlosser puts it, and cow stomach contents. Due to the consolidation of the fast food industry, one infected cow can infect meat distributed to thousands of restaurants all over the nation and consumed by millions. That is probably Schlosser's strongest argument against such uniformity, that it makes the dissemination of pathogens easier. I was also not surprised that until recently, the USDA purchased the lowest quality meat from slaughterhouses to serve (where else?) the nation's schools. My favorite part of the book was the section describing Schlosser's visit to a scent manufacturer. Fast food, because it is freeze-dried and otherwise processed, is tasteless, so compounds are invented to infuse fast food with specific flavors and make them taste good. I honestly think this is unbelievably cool. Using this technology, we could make anything-even lima beans-taste good! Although I agree with and applaud Schlosser's mission-to reform the fast food industry and economy-his reporting is not flawless. He repeatedly attacks Republican politicians and the Republican Party in general for accepting money from fast food or slaughterhouse companies. However, he cannot prove any correlation with their voting records or any related corruption. In the updated edition's Afterword, he notes this criticism and admits that his attacks are circumstantial (though he stands by them), and that some Democrats were guilty of this as well, which he had neglected to mention. I also checked his footnotes and sources in the back and was interested to see that many of his statistics and assertions were of his own creation, based on other information and his observations. I think it is somewhat misleading to present that as fact, though I suppose someone has to figure out statistics. All in all, it was easy to read and contains important information, still relevant almost seven years after its original publication.
Monday, August 18, 2008
I've wanted to read this for years, ever since I read about it in a Jane Austen book. It actually fit in very well with the Backgrounds course I took this past semester. Boccaccio was a contemporary of Dante's, and like him, a 13th century Florentine. The language seems rather modern, but I'm sure that's a result of the translation from the Italian. This book is an 80/20 mix of the Canterbury Tales and the Inferno respectively. Six young Florentine noblewomen choose three young Florentine noblemen to accompany them in their flight to the countryside to avoid the raging Plague. Each day, a different member of the company is the "queen" or "king," whose chief duty is to set a story topic for the day, and at the appointed time, everybody relates an appropriate tale. The book is almost entirely composed of these stories, all folk tales that would echo something in the minds of readers even today. Most of the stories take place in Italy and particularly Florence, most mock the clergy and variate on themes of Love, which in these stories may as well be synonymous with adulterous sex.
I find it so interesting that adultery seems to be so accepted in these stories, if conducted discreetly. The obvious reason would be that in that place and time, marriages were arranged by families and/or for money, not love. However, why couldn't it be pointing to the same thing as more current theories of polyamory, for example?
One thing I noticed about Boccaccio, is all his stories, even the tragedies, are so light. The language is ironic and the details are ridiculous. In one, a girl buries her dead lover's head in a potted plant she carries around with her everywhere. He delights in trickery, some of very unsavoury nature (making a woman lie naked in the hot sun with no food or water till her skin peels off) and some more harmless (convincing a man he is pregnant), The tales are all the epitome of earthy, about sex and money and friendship. The characters range from noble to penniless.
What I especially liked is there were so many different pints of view. For every story in favor of adultery, there was one against it. For every story favoring the trickster, there was one where the victim triumphed. There were many more stories about dishonest, lascivious, or bumbling clergy, but there were a few wise, kind ones in the mix.
The very last story is nearly identical to one of the earlier stories in The Canterbury Tales. In fact, I'm almost certain I found a sibling to each Canterbury Tale contained in the Decameron. Chaucer wrote in the fourteenth century, so Boccaccio outdates him, but I doubt either man actually invented the gist of any of the stories, but rather shaped them and used them for their own purposes. The story is about a rich man who decides to marry a poor girl and then "tests" her by taking her children away at birth, pretending to have them killed but really sending them away to be fostered, and finally pretending to have his wife put aside in favor of a younger one, who is really their daughter. Yeah, really messed up right? Except, of course, the wife passes the test and they live happily ever after. But, I thought, why is that the last story? What's the real message? I thought more carefully, and it reminded me somewhat of one of the Biblical prophets, Hosea, I think, whose wife kept running off, but he took her back anyway, and it was supposed to be a parallel with God and Israel. Well, what if this was a twist on that and God was the rich man and humans, or, I suppose, Christians were the woman?
Which brings me to the final point I wanted to discuss, that Boccaccio addresses this book to women and the majority of the characters are women. Boccaccio writes in his prologue about how he seeks to please and entertain women, and in his epilogue that the book is for women, because they have the time to read something of that length (it is over 800 pages in small print), and also that, though the stories are a bit uneven and some are not very good, it will be suitable enough for the less perfect, less intelligent sex. The book as a whole professes to assume that women are inferior, as some of the female characters explicitly state, but the many strong and brilliant female characters would seem to belie that. Then again, there are also plenty of airheaded bimbos within its pages. I am going to decide though, that Boccaccio viewed that as as much of a joke as he seemed to view every other part of the human condition. The Decameron, as a whole, seems to say, there are a lot of different people out there, different ways to conduct yourself, all you can do is make the best of it, for Fortune is your mistress. I said that would be my final issue, but I'll just note that Fortune, as so often, is a huge theme here too.
What is about simple tales that comfort us so much and why are they told and retold again? Certain things, like Love, always seem to be relevant.
Sorry this review is so disjointed, I just have so much to say. This is a book to read over a long period of time, easily put down and picked back up. I really want to read more from this time period.
I recently bought the nice gold-edged hardback copy that various students and coworkers have been mistaking for the Bible all week. I always just want to say 'Yes' and leave it at that ;) I read The Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy a year or two ago and enjoyed it, though not as much as I expected to. The Hitchhikers' Guide is not philosophically profound or emotionally touching, it is simply amusing. As a comedy, it is some of the best I have encountered. The sequels continue the tradition of the original, the books float on a combination of Adams' irreverence and the scope of his imagined material. His galaxy, or more accurately conglomeration of universes, which he terms the "Whole General Mish Mash" is an exercise in breadth, not depth and works well for his purposes. Various planets, species, and phenomena can be introduced to serve as one liners and then forever dismissed or referred to later in passing. I see why this was so successful as a radio show, it is a succession of never ending adventures with no real purpose but the action itself. That said, it does grate somewhat as a novel, since readers are at least conditioned to expect some sort of resolution or plot organization. Each book ends far too easily, evidence of Adams' lazy style, but fortunately he makes it work. Although many of his outlandish new coined phrases were annoying to me, there were several gems to be found as well. I particularly liked the phrase "the long dark teatime of the soul," which is actually apparently the title of another of his books. The characters are disappointingly flat , especially against the universe's exciting backdrop,and he never takes the opportunity to develop them much. Only the two-headed brilliant and barmy Zaphod Beeblebrox can match the galaxy for flair, and I was sad when he was excluded from the last two books. Of course I also dig the Brit colloquialisms.
This is actually five books in one, and with work, took me nearly two weeks to read, setting me back on my goal. So, therefore, while I am counting this as one book now, I am not above going back and counting it as five if needed.
29. Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World by Verlyn Flieger
The instructor for the Fantasy Lit class I assisted this summer lent me this book. It took me awhile to get into it, due to the complex discussions on, "A Man of Antitheses," "Eucatastrophe," "Dyscatastrophe," essentially meaning Tolkien's theories on the origins of mythology and language (notably that they are inextricably linked), the parallel inextricable link between dark and light that he also believed in, the sources from which he derived those theories, most prominently fellow Inkling Owen Barfield, and the author's proof for all such assertions taken from Tolkien's own dense but fascinating writings. Due to my own personal interest in all these topics; mythology and language, the metaphorical light and dark, and above all The Lord of the Rings and the Silmarillion, I did come to greatly appreciate Flieger's analysis. The arguments build on one another and take time to digest, but for the true connossieur, it is worth it. The central argument, which all the other arguments lead to and complement, is that the languages in Tolkien's world begin with words that encapsulate multiple meanings and gradually splinter into more specific terms (as Barfield and Tolkien believed occurred in our world), and that Tolkien's use of light in the book mirrors this splintering and both represent a natural diminishing of all that is good and pure. There is, of course, so much more to that, but I would have to write another book to fully explain my interpretation of hers. The latter half of the book is almost entirely concerned with analyzing the Silmarillion in terms of this theory, although there is one last chapter on how it relates to the Lord of the Rings and especially the character of Frodo. What I most appreciate is that Flieger clearly illustrates why Lord of the Rings, and the whole Silmarillion, is essentially tragic, as I've been trying to explain for years. If you got through all that, you may want to take a shot at the book. If not, don't worry, I won't blame you (just make sure you've read Lord of the Rings, I won't even insist on the Silmarillion).
An aunt of mine decided I needed to move past the Virgin Queen and this book was the official family attempt to wean me off the dangerous obsession ;) To be honest, I never knew much nor cared to know much about James, that Stuart scion who ended the glorious Tudor period. The one thing I'll say for this book is it proved to me James of Scotland is an interest well worth pursuing in his own right. Lisle presents him as a clever and calculating young man, uncouth among friends and reserved among strangers, he was fiercely Protestant but dearly loved his Catholic wife (even though their marriage was arranged), and openly took several male lovers. His wife Anna is fascinating too, she was a Danish princess who married James when she was 14 and he was in his late 20s, but even at that early stage managed to exert her civilizing influence on the court. The book chronicles closely the last two years or so of Elizabeth's reign, James' journey from Scotland to England, various plots against him that never occurred and the trials of the plotters, and James and Anna's coronation. This is an oddly specific time period for an entire book (literally less than five years), so I believe I was justified in expecting more analysis. Instead, I got some excellent characterizations of Elizabeth, James, Anna, and contemporaries, descriptions of public mood, and the admittedly exciting events surrounding the plotted kidnappings and/or murders. However, I also got a lot of unneeded minutiae on politics, including largely irrelevant French, Spanish, Dutch, and Venetian politics. There was no new controversial information and no long cohesive argument to tie the book together. Lisle insists throughout the book that Elizabeth had become terribly unpopular and describes many scenes of effusive welcome for James. At the end, she seems to begin an argument that James is now unfairly overshadowed by Elizabeth, and then contradict herself saying that he became unpopular and the people adored their previous Queen. Keep in mind she has not attempted to make an argument for over three quarters of the book. The first couple of chapters set up a premise that James had a more difficult succession than historians today now believe, but the contemporary accounts she quotes state just the opposite, that they are astounded at the peaceful succession in town after town. That idea is also paid quick lip service too at the very end. History needs much more analysis than this book had to make it interesting, in my opinion at least. In the future though, I would be interested in reading more about James and his lovers or the impact of his bisexuality on the royal court. I don't know if bisexual is the correct word though, for he seems to have gone entirely for men with the exception of Anna, with whom he had around seventeen children.
I mightily enjoyed this last sentence, " The contrast between the vulgar James and the iconic Elizabeth was so startling...The respect in which the English crown was held was thus diminished and the nation that shaped and worshiped Gloriana has never forgiven him for it (289)."
All in all, I could not get into this book like a work of fiction and it's taken me far more days than I would have liked to get through it. I'm also attempting to read The History of G-d, another nonfiction, this one about the evolution of the idea of G-d from the earliest Jews to the latest Muslims. I am not used to reading nonfiction and it is usually difficult for me to get through. do other people find this as well? Does anyone have any recommendations for quick and interesting nonfic reads?
22. God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
As Breakfast of Champions was lacking from my father's otherwise robust Vonnegut collection, I read this instead. I hope Breakfast of Champions is better. It was at least the quick read I was looking for, I picked it up today and it took me under three hours. There is something to be said for a simple, irreverent style. I bet Vonnegut is popular for people with ADHD, and I mean that as a sincere compliment to the man. The first part of this book though slid by on typical Vonnegut style alone, and for someone who's read a lot of his work, it was disappointing. No aliens even to brighten it up. Mr. Rosewater is Eliot Rosewater, an inheritor of millions turned an odd sort of philanthropist. He sets up an office with two phone lines, one where people call and he listens to them, advises them, and often hands out small amounts of money, and the other for fires. When he gets a fire call, he presses a button ringing the siren he paid to have installed over the firehouse. It's hard not to love Eliot Rosewater, but in more of a generally appreciative rather than passionate way. The book does become a statement on humanism, another typical Vonnegut theme, but in a less compelling manner than his other books. In the end, this is an almost fairy tale like corollary to Slaughterhouse Five, and lacks the big ideas and bite I'm accustomed to.
Karen gave me this book to read, and as I usually enjoy her selections, I was excited for this eponymous novel about an Israeli family. There was essentially one problem with it. One problem of mega-disaster proportions, in my mind. It is a stream-of-consciousness novel. Last time I read one of those I seriously contemplated traveling to California with the sole purpose of throttling Dave Eggers. Non-grammatical run-on sentences in prose BOTHER ME. I realize this is a New Age style, it illustrates the language of thought, conveys a certain poetry and rhythm. I'm just immune to it I guess. I live for the well-organized sentence. That aside, this is a character focused book, which I appreciate, and I did find most of the characters strikingly well drawn, particularly the seven year old boy, grandson of the divorcing couple. Each section is written from the point of view of a different character, all but one members of the family. There is even, surprisingly, a plot, which I followed along expectantly only to discover...that it is not resolved. and by not resolved I mean however the situation ends, it is only hinted at. the ending of the book felt really random to me, like just the ending of another section. I did not appreciate that at all. I like ambiguous endings, but not endings where some sort of direction is not even suggested. I think probably if i went back and cobbled together a lot of symbolism and characters melding into other characters, I could probably come up with something vaguely coherent, but it's not even worth it. and if I don't want to re-read it, ever, that really is the death knell.
24. The Silmarillion by J. R. R. Tolkien
I read the Middle Earth mythology for a third time because I wanted to remember all the names and relationships again. The Silmarillion is about history, getting a sense of the world of Middle Earth rather than about the characters or a tightly drawn plot, which makes it hard to read. It's also forever referring to language and giving everything and everyone a million names, but come on, the guy was a linguist or should I say philologist. I just happen to dig this sort of thing. I like remembering and knowing minute details about history and characters and genealogy. The best story is that of Beren and Luthien, the first Man/Elf couple although this time the story of Tuor and Idril, the second Man/Elf couple was a close second favorite. Interesting how it's always a man falling in love with an Elf maiden, never a woman with an Elf man, isn't it? I love Huan the Hound in the Beren story. Also I had forgotten that Fingolfin, a Noldorin (branch of Elves basically exiled from Valinor aka Eden) chief usually overshadowed by big brother Feanor who created the remarkable Silmaril jewels, is awesome because he battles Morgoth, the original Dark Lord, one-on-one. That's right, Sauron is just Morgoth's vassal. I might need to get Children of Hurin now, even though that story is part of the Silmarillion, I want to see if there's a more fleshed out version.
25. The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo
This was the only book we're teaching in Modern Fantasy that I hadn't read yet, so now I have. I'll be rereading the others, The Fellowship of the Ring and The Golden Compass, in due course. This is an adorable mouse tale with a narrative style reminiscent of Lemony Snicket only more cutesy and less conspiratorial. It could definitely be a series. A castle mouse is inspired by his love for the human princess and faces their mutual enemy, rats. It's maybe a fourth grade reading level at the most, but it was satisfying to see those tiny chapters fly by. I would have enjoyed a little more complication and character development, but it's a good gateway book for fantasy. Definitely one to recommend to elementary schoolers of your acquaintance.
26. The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
I read this book once in seventh grade, this is my first re-read since. I had a rather hazy recollection, except for one very specific quote, because the idea it contained BLEW MY MIND and continues to do so. However, I read much of this as if for the first time and I think understood it better, though not wholly. In contrast to Tolkien, Pullman's language is simple and his world significantly less developed. Lyra, the protagonist, a familiar urchin-sans-parents, exists in a universe alternate to our own. I think Pullman deserves a special category in fantasy for this, as it is not quite "fantastic," that is between our world and another, like Narnia or Hogwarts, and yet cannot qualify as "marvellous," or in a self-contained world like Middle Earth. Lyra grows up in Oxford, England, and yet it is an Oxford in a world the Catholic Church still dominates, science and religious studies are both known as theology, the Tartars are a threat to Europe, and more supernatural-seeming deviations like witches and talking polar bears abound. The prime difference is that humans have a visible animal soul and companion, called a daemon. Children's daemons change, but adults' become fixed. This represents the fixation of character and identity that we believe is settled at some vague coming of age point. Essentially, Pullman introduces fascinating concepts in an interesting way, but I don't think ever fully satisfies or explains all of them. Certainly not in The Golden Compass, but I have read the other two books as well, and while I found them interesting, remember no definitive clarification, only further mysteries. Such is life, one could argue, but I think he could have made more of an effort. I remembered loving Iorek Byrnison, a talking bear, and he is still my favorite character, though Lyra is very likable and there are other interesting minor characters. Actually, I think minor characters are a particular talent of Pullman's, he doesn't bring in too many, and those he does, he develops just enough to make the reader wonder, but not lose track of the story at hand. I should probably see the movie soon now, I was holding off until I could re-read the book, and am pleased with my forbearance though it was more circumstantial than an effort of will.
The aforementioned favorite quote:
"There," he said, "I have just brushed ten million other worlds, and they knew nothing of it (188).""
One of my kids was asking me questions about some of the more difficult ideas, elementary particles called Dust that might represent Original Sin, and motivations of certain characters, and after I had answered her to the best of my ability, she said, "I think your daemon would be an owl, because you're very smart."
She said it very matter-of-factly too, and I don't think it was brown-nosing, because I don't grade her. I consider it one of the best compliments I've ever received.
What do you think your daemon would be?
Once again, I remain convinced that Weir should stick to history and forgo fiction. This book just came out this year, soon after her only other novel about Lady Jane Grey, which I read last December. Her main character is far too precocious at an early age and, very surprisingly, this book took some large liberties within technically historically accurate parameters. The author's note at the end of the book actually defends all of the choices Weir made that I disagreed with, which shows that she realizes the problems even though she feels justified. Ironically, that made me feel more justified with my criticisms since Weir is such an accomplished historian! The way she writes just doesn't work for a story however. She includes details, but all of her dialogues and descriptions of characters' thoughts and feelings feel so stagnant and contrived. I don't get a feeling of Elizabeth's true character even, passionate or guarded, deceptive or forthright, until the last couple sections. Elizabeth's sister Mary shifts suddenly from sympathetic to cruel and back. Actually, maybe that characterization is accurate, but the way she shows it is awkward. The last couple sections, with Elizabeth under Mary's reign feels much more realistic than the rest, but the crazy suggestions earlier on just make me balk at the work as a whole.One thing that interested me is Weir's Elizabeth is much more kind and honest while still being strong and clever than any Elizabeth I have met in fiction before. The Virgin Queen tends either to be portrayed as brilliant and heartless or heedless and passionate. but that's my SIP [Senior Independent Project] talking. I might come back to this book if I do any further studies on Elizabeth's portrayal in fiction, but otherwise I'd let it and its sister-book alone, and go read Weir's histories.
My grandfather saddled me with this book because we're supposedly related to the author. Which is probably as likely as us being Kohein but I digress. The author writes the Holocaust memoir, as told to her, of a Jewish girl, Sonya Hebenstreit, who survives in Nazi occupied Poland. She is 12 when the Germans invade and is the only survivor of her family of five. Sonya's story is different from many others I've read, she does not survive the camps or being shut up in one place for years. Instead, she lives in the ghetto hiding from roundups, buying and selling on the black market, and eventually moves around living with different people and pretending to be a Polish girl whose papers she obtains. At first, I wasn't very impressed, but as I got further, I became more and more involved with the story. It is written in the present tense which is at first awkward and noticeable, but ultimately adds to the urgency of the character's situation and atmosphere. Sonya is a very sympathetic creature and I'll admit to tearing up at points.
It's funny, I went through a stage around eight or nine when I read Holocaust memoir after memoir. My parents didn't like it and I had to hide the books from them. I've avoided those books in the past few years though, with the exception of Night, and they upset me more easily now. I feel so connected to the characters, I always did. They are me. I have had dreams and delusions where I've thought the Holocaust did or has happened to me. It did happen to members of my family. My father's father and his parents and brother were on the last ship out of Germany accepted at Ellis Island. We know there are things they never told us, and very recently we found something my great grandmother had written about Kristallnacht, when their shop was burned and her husband was taken. But it's even more real to me than that. In every generation, you shall say to your children, I was a slave who came forth from Egypt, the Haggadah tells us, and that is how I feel about the Holocaust.
Continuing with this particular book, there is a running gimmick of stories Sonya has known since childhood and her imaginary conversations with the characters. It was sort of interesting, but more could have been done with it or it could have been left out. I don't know if I'd recommend this exactly, but well, why not? I hate to depress people, but maybe you should read this if you feel in need of getting a grip on what's really important or balancing yourself in a world that's not nearly as nightmarish as the character's.
18. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
This is actually my first re-read of this epic conclusion. I've read books one-four more times than I can count, and the fifth and sixth a couple of times each. I went in to see how valid the criticisms I had the first time I read it were and of course to see what else I could get out of it. I find I'm generally kinder on a second read than the first, perhaps surprisingly.
19. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
I started at midnight, couldn't put it down, and finished in the wee hours. I'm tempted to call this novel "cute," but the author would probably find that demeaning. It's obvious she was trying to create a meaningful story about female power and the racial tensions of the 1960s. Lily Owens is a girl who lost her mother in a terrible accident, and the book begins with the accident and other exciting events in quick succession. Then the book calms down, and in my mind, remained mostly serene from then on. I wasn't really expecting that, but it was a nice break from heavier books I've just been reading. "Bad things" happen later on, but for some reason I got this sense of peace with it, probably due to the almost insensibly sanguine character August Boatwright. This woman just seems to take everything in, accept it, and make the best of it. She's not very realistic in that sense, but it works for this book, which has an underlying mysticism. One of the recurring motifs is the Black Madonna or Virgin Mary, but August as much as says at one point that it's not even about Mary really, just the sense of something watching over you, that can come from within. My only criticism would be that it's not very realistic and things work out too neatly, but even that's not really a criticism because it gives you a sense of hope. The truth in this book comes from the hopes of people at that time and in our time for people of different races and genders to finally accept each other.
This is probably one of the best posthumous collections I've ever read. I also just learned that I pronounce 'posthumous' wrong, probably because I've never had much cause to say it aloud. Douglas Adams is the wonderfully hilarious author of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fame, and who passed away in 2001 at the age of 49. I also learned that he has a daughter who is now just 13, which makes me very sad. In one of those serendipitous connections (or perhaps not, I learned Adams was also friendly with the likes of Paul McCartney and Michael Nesmith), he was good friends with the brilliant biologist and notorious atheist Richard Dawkins. I knew this, since The God Delusion was dedicated to Adams, but it's brought up many times in the collection so I just thought I'd mention it. The collection is very well organized, in my opinion, for a bunch of random articles and stories. A few of the articles are by friends and contemporaries about Adams, but the majority of the book are examples of Douglas' wit and imagination. It really gives a feel for the kind of person he was in the eyes of himself and those who knew him. "The Salmon of Doubt" was supposed to be the title for the book he was working on when he died unexpectedly of a heart attack. I would recommend this to anybody who loved "Hitchhiker's Guide," but really it's so funny and light I'd recommend it to anyone. You can't help but be interested in Douglas Adams and his quick, glib, out-of-nowhere humor. In other news, I shamefully admit that I must read the rest of the Hitchhiker books.
*Note to self: Rethink labeling all the titles.
I have no restrictions on genre and was not trying to aim for any type of cohesion among my choices. I have tried to read more nonfiction this year, since I tend to stick exclusively to fiction.
I am counting both books that I have reread, because if I really like a book, it will be reread, and books I read for school, because if I didn't, I would never reach 50.
Without further ado:
1. The Mighty and the Almighty by Madeleine Albright
I've been reading this non-fiction book, largely concerned with diplomatic situations in Islamic-majority countries, off and on for a while and finally finished it. The writing style is very clear, the angle is openly biased toward a liberal viewpoint, but I was okay with it. Obviously, some of it is naively upbeat, but it's a good starting point for discussion.
2. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
The alleged English major book club chose this as our first expedition, however I have yet to hear of a concrete meeting time. Anyway, I received the book from lovely amazon.com Tuesday afternoon and finished in the wee hours of this morn. Please take into account classes, reading for classes, and the fact that I had a lengthy presentation due in class yesterday, and you can conclude that this novel is intoxicating. I was honestly expecting a Dan Brown type novel, all plot and no substance, but I was partially wrong. The language is simple, but not in-your-face Hemingway imitation. What is most attractive about the book is of course the immersion in Afghan culture. I am also intensely grateful that the culture is not oversimplified or too politicized. The book does not shy away from harsh topics and addresses them with some understanding. One of the characters, Rahim Khan, exists for the sole purpose of being a preachy guide for the protagonist, and that annoys me. The characters are all too clear-cut. The novel does not deviate from a very familiar formula; protagonist grows up idyllically, then something changes it all, protagonist regrets past, returns to redeem himself. All the plot twists were predictable from a million miles away. I would recommend this book as a deeper read for someone who normally sticks to fluff (which is probably why it's so popular), but there are much better books out there with similar themes.
3. The Iliad by Homer
4. The Odyssey by Homer
5. Oedipus the King by Sophocles
6. Joseph Andrews by Henry Fielding
7. Candide by Voltaire
8. Lysistrata by Aristophanes
9. A Woman Soldier's Own Story by Xie Bingying
So my Chinese Civ teacher made a test on this book count for more points, because everybody did only "okay" on the midterm. Which means, since I'm unhappy with my B+ (yeah yeah shut up), I figured I should actually read the book. So yesterday I did. Read the whole thing cover to cover, only skipping a few descriptions of flowers and sunsets. THIS WOMAN IS FASCINATING. Even more so because the fact that she was even able to write her entire life story is so rare. Chinese women have next to no voice until the twentieth century. No kidding. That's why this course on Chinese women focuses the first half on a couple thousand years of Chinese history and the entire second half is just the last hundred years. In her story, I was able to see the abuse of ordinary Chinese women, footbinding, fieldwork, all the weird arranged marriage customs, that we could only discuss in general terms in class. I could see all the revolutions in China through the eyes of a soldier and a student, she is right in the thick of whatever's happening at the moment. Then she returns home after being a SOLDIER, and her family imprisons her for months until she is forced into an arranged marriage that she later escapes. She's an entertaining writer, the pace is quick, and every moment is exciting. The English version is translated by her daughter and her daughter's husband, so it's probably very accurate. I really recommend this book, especially to history buffs.
I've had this book since my last birthday and finally found time to read, I finished on the plane over here. I loved Eva Luna, so I was looking forward to reading for a very long time. It's very similar to Eva Luna, both books are essentially enlarged descriptions of quirky characters over the course of one or more lifetimes. Because of my seminar, I was able to discern the influence of Don Quixote that more or less pervades most Spanish and Latin American literature. The chapters are stories that work together or separately. I am particularly fond of character development, so maybe that is why I like Allende so much. The later part of the book becomes very political, which I don't usually like, but Allende conveys very well the terrible situation in her country, Chile. One of the main characters, Clara, is clairvoyant, and in homage to her, the book also reveals the fates of all the characters prior to their actual end. That technique builds anticipation and takes focus from the plot to the characters. I liked the remarkable way the book came together cohesively and purposefully in the end. If you like weird characters and magic and don't mind some tragedy, you should definitely read this.
11. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
I forgot how absolutely HILARIOUS this book is. I read it once or twice around middle school age and remembered the very basic gist and that I really loved it and preferred it to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, which I also liked. I had to read it again for my Don Quixote seminar, so this time I was looking at it in a completely different way. I really see how it relates to DQ, in the fact that it's an episodic journey of two characters and that many of the episodes echo DQ, and the characters share traits of both DQ and Sancho. The other thing that struck me is how quintessentially American this story is. I know people often say that about it, but it's not just because it's written in dialect or takes place on the Mississippi River, though that's part of it. The themes of lying and trickery and rebellion against authority are such basic American problems and ideals at the same time. That is what Tom and Huck represent. The most honest character in the book is Jim, the runaway slave. And that's another statement about American society, of the time, yes, but it has modern applications. If you have time, this is a book well worth rereading as an adult. The goings-on seem so much more absurd and I'm sure my roommates think I'm nuts because of the number of times I cracked up while reading this.
12. The Exploits & Adventures of Miss Alethea Darcy by Elizabeth Ashton
Yes, I'm bad, I know. I had a twenty page paper due and two labs and other little chores, and I was already sick and tired, and instead of doing it all, I read a book. This is Escapist Me. I needed a break. I still need one. And I won't get one till maybe this weekend, and I should be working on my Chinese Civ final essays then anyway, and studying for the Backgrounds and Genetics exams, that will both be killer nitpicky. But that's my life. Miss Alethea Darcy, daughter of Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, has an exciting life. Ashton says all the things Austen never dared say (sodomites! flagellants! What is with her sexual deviance obsession?), widens the horizon of the historical period (OMG, Napoleon was just defeated at Waterloo!?), and is slightly less sarcastic, but otherwise does a fairly accurate imitation of Austen's style. This is your typical, maybe a tad more intellectual, historical romance thriller. This is for you if you've had a long day and just want to forget about it and immerse yourself in an easy, quick read.
13. A Daughter of Han: The Autobiography of a Chinese Working Woman by Ida Pruitt from the Story Told Her by Ning Lao T'ai T'ai
I'm catching up on the books I sped through so I could write my Chinese Civ essays on them. This one is the true story of a woman born during the very end of the last Chinese dynasty, the Qing. She was born into a very poor family and her life essentially gets progressively worse. She lives in a world steeped in Confucian tradition, but with whispers of change all around like the opium smoking that consumes her husband and the book ends in her old age as the Japanese invade Manchuria. The character has some spirit in her, but not enough to offset the unrelenting difficult circumstances of her life. This is probably a good source of information for scholars on the period, but otherwise not particularly captivating. The first person viewpoint is appropriate, as is the largely chronological order of events. That said, anyone interested? I'm selling! (Friends can have it for free).
14. Growing Up in the People's Republic by Ye Weili with Ma Xiaodong
Yay Chinese Revolution! Actually, this a very different take from the strongly negative, victimized literature I've read on the period before. This is non-fiction, in a very unusual format. The book is a conversation between two women who grew up in similar circumstances in the PRC and met as adults attending universities in Boston. It sheds light on the strange incident at the Beijing Normal Girls School where students abused teachers to the point of killing a teacher and set off a wave of female violence against authority, supported by Mao's government. The authors attempt to explore various lenses through which to view their childhood, and youth, one of which is gender. Growing up, they had no concept of themselves as women since they were treated and expected to be the same as men. Girls were encouraged to have short hair, wear plain unobtrusive clothes, and become soldiers and laborers. Even though I had an idea of this, I never thought before about the affect this might have on that whole generation's identity. I have always thought of myself as female, albeit equal to males in every way, I feel different from them. These girls did not. They're not sure whether this was positive or negative and neither am I. They do seem to express longing for some sort of female identity, but look down on more modern Chinese feminization movements that sexualize women. Parts of this conversation are very interesting and thought-provoking. Some of it rambles or is dry, but I think it is worth it to get through it. If you're interested in the PRC of the '50s and '60s at all, this is a must-read for a more fair and balanced look at the Communist Revolution in China and Chinese women in the Mao era. I might be persuaded to part with this book as well, for a price, or free on loan.
15. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami
I finished last night, been reading for almost a week but it's 607 pages. I sort of felt early on that the ending wasn't going to be concrete, so I wasn't disappointed when it wasn't. The main character, who narrates most of the story, is a Mr. Toru Okada. Murakami is a best-selling Japanese author, by the way, and the story takes place in Tokyo. This was my first book by him and I'm sure I'll be reading more. Murakami has a very clipped, clean writing style that usually makes the reader feel disconnected, but here there is enough detail and delving into the characters' minds to avoid that. It addresses popular themes like the blurring of fiction and reality, fate, and identity. The characters seem to develop an interesting theory that their bodies are containers for a few different identities throughout their lifetime that either become or obliterate their "real" selves. The villain is a true original and totally evil. The Japanese invasion of Manchuria seems to play a significant role in the novel, but I think it's just used as an example of violence and inhumanity, not really a statement on that war in particular. I would really recommend this novel, but only if you're comfortable being confused.