I don't suppose you can blame Thanksgiving for my cough, but I'm casting an accusing eye at the dry air and cigarette smoke I ran into at the homestead.
For some reason, unlike a normal trip home, this one resulted in almost no reading at all. It might have been that Mike was there and retreating into a novel seemed like abandoning him. Or we could point to Marsha's being on her miserable way back to her new home 500 miles away. Mostly I think I was just lazy and the TV was on all the time and I'm not really in the middle of anything good.
Usually when I'm home for a holiday I read about fifty Babysitter's Club books from the collection still under my bed. Or reread some other old favorites. But I've just finished a Good Parts tour of the Clan of the Cave Bear series, and that seemed like more than enough for now. I might have to reread Butterfly sometime soon, though--now THAT'S trashy but good.
Anyway, I did just finish The Final Solution by Michael Chabon (slight and mostly about how much it sucks to be old, but not bad) and My Life and Hard Times by James Thurber (funny, funny). I'm going to pound away at A Long Fatal Love Chase, which is not bad but kind of archaic, if you know what I mean. Sometimes old books (Austen) are as fresh or better than fresh. Sometimes they're good in spite of being antique. This Louisa May Alcott book is very much a melodrama in the old-fashioned sense.
And The Lady and the Unicorn. I'd like to know what people think of Tracy Chevalier, because I loved The Girl with the Pearl Earring and I liked The Virgin Blue okay, but I still, somehow, don't think I like her. And this book....it doesn't help that I dislike the main character and mistrust the somewhat contrived seeming plot that's opening up. And I'm on page 30.
Humph. Okay, now you're up to date.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Friday, November 18, 2005
Original Neurosis
When I'm having an awful and frantic day at work, I often find the Boston Public Library website to be soothing and calming. Just going there, logging in, and looking at the list of books I'm planning to read gives me the tiny "Calgon, take me away!" moment that I need at 2:30 when the ftp server isn't cooperating and I realize that I haven't updated my revised budgets or schedules in any of our numerous databases and spreadsheets in, oh, six months or so.
But it just wasn't working today. I think I've figured out why; for the first time in a long time, I don't have anything on reserve. There's nothing that needs checking up on, no queue counter to watch tick down.
I'll admit, I'm actually considering putting a bestseller on reserve just so I have something soothing to watch. An Oprah book is always good, and Linden recommended A Million Little Pieces (though I listened to a sample of the audiobook, which was not very appealing). I'd probably be at least 150 on a waiting list for that book, and I could watch anxiously as it ticked down for the next three months.
And this, believe it or not, would be designed to make me feel better.
But it just wasn't working today. I think I've figured out why; for the first time in a long time, I don't have anything on reserve. There's nothing that needs checking up on, no queue counter to watch tick down.
I'll admit, I'm actually considering putting a bestseller on reserve just so I have something soothing to watch. An Oprah book is always good, and Linden recommended A Million Little Pieces (though I listened to a sample of the audiobook, which was not very appealing). I'd probably be at least 150 on a waiting list for that book, and I could watch anxiously as it ticked down for the next three months.
And this, believe it or not, would be designed to make me feel better.
Monday, November 14, 2005
I Wish You Much Joy of the Worm
Kathy points out that I read a lot of books that I don't seem to like. I wouldn't have said that, but when I think about what I say about the books I read, I guess that's kind of true. I think it's a factor of a few things, though: one that I'm pretty critical. Even when I'm enjoying a book on one level, I'm often pretty aware of its flaws on other levels, and I hesitate to say something that might sound like a recommendation for a book that I would only recommend to someone with very specific tastes.
Another factor is definitely that I dabble. I pick up things that I don't necessarily expect to like--things I'm curious about without very high expectations, or books about things that I want to know more about, without a lot of hope or expectation for them as enjoyable literature. I checked out a book called Mothers Talking, which was a collection of short first person stories from moms. I had read that it was a little more honest about the hard parts than other books, but I stopped reading after about four chapters, because it was very Chicken Soup for the Soul. I read The Art of War by Sun Tzu, which was very interesting, and actually a pretty good read, but which I don't think I'd run out and recommend as hobby reading to anyone.
I guess I'm following my curiosity more than anything. This is one reason it's important to me to read a lot; if I didn't devote so much time to it, I wouldn't want to waste the time trying things that might fail, and I'd go for the easy pleasures--maybe challenging as literature, but not different or educational in the way I want them to be. If you gave me a choice between another 1500 year old Chinese treatise on war or the new Jonathan Safron Foer book, I can't honestly tell you which I'd choose. Probably the war book, actually.
I'm just looking for a different kind of challenge than most people, I think. And maybe it's not a literary one. I think that's okay with me.
Oh, and I gave up on Sex and the City. It was too gruesome.
Another factor is definitely that I dabble. I pick up things that I don't necessarily expect to like--things I'm curious about without very high expectations, or books about things that I want to know more about, without a lot of hope or expectation for them as enjoyable literature. I checked out a book called Mothers Talking, which was a collection of short first person stories from moms. I had read that it was a little more honest about the hard parts than other books, but I stopped reading after about four chapters, because it was very Chicken Soup for the Soul. I read The Art of War by Sun Tzu, which was very interesting, and actually a pretty good read, but which I don't think I'd run out and recommend as hobby reading to anyone.
I guess I'm following my curiosity more than anything. This is one reason it's important to me to read a lot; if I didn't devote so much time to it, I wouldn't want to waste the time trying things that might fail, and I'd go for the easy pleasures--maybe challenging as literature, but not different or educational in the way I want them to be. If you gave me a choice between another 1500 year old Chinese treatise on war or the new Jonathan Safron Foer book, I can't honestly tell you which I'd choose. Probably the war book, actually.
I'm just looking for a different kind of challenge than most people, I think. And maybe it's not a literary one. I think that's okay with me.
Oh, and I gave up on Sex and the City. It was too gruesome.
Friday, November 11, 2005
So Incredibly Not a Novelization
If you like the TV show Sex and the City, you'll HATE the book! I've seen two episodes of the show, and it looks sweet and funny and character-centered. And yeah, it's blunt and graphic (I assume; I've only seen it in syndication on basic cable), but not as heartless, unromatic, and hopeless as this stuff.
Carrie Bradshaw, who is one of many "friends" who supplies the author with info for this nonfiction compilation of anecdotes, for example. In her second appearance in the book, she is in a fancy restaurant having lunch with friends. "She lit up her twentieth cigarette of day, and when the maitre d'hotel ran over and told her to put it out, she said, 'Why, I wouldn't dream of offending anyone.' Then she put the cigarette out on the carpet."
Is this the Carrie Bradshaw you know and love? No.
This book reinforces for me the fact that I would never wish to be a New Yorker. Or at least, a Manhattanite.
Carrie Bradshaw, who is one of many "friends" who supplies the author with info for this nonfiction compilation of anecdotes, for example. In her second appearance in the book, she is in a fancy restaurant having lunch with friends. "She lit up her twentieth cigarette of day, and when the maitre d'hotel ran over and told her to put it out, she said, 'Why, I wouldn't dream of offending anyone.' Then she put the cigarette out on the carpet."
Is this the Carrie Bradshaw you know and love? No.
This book reinforces for me the fact that I would never wish to be a New Yorker. Or at least, a Manhattanite.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
What Jen Should Read
List compiled for Jen K D, but you can use it too, if you want. I'm going for a good fun-quality ratio in each book--so none of these books are just "good for you"--they're all enjoyable.
Shining Through, Susan Isaacs. This book is the most fun ever. The narrator, Linda, is funny and smart, but susceptible to bad choices--the kind you can understand. You get all the drama and gravity of World War II, along with a great office-gossip storyline.
Note, however, that this is Susan Isaacs' best book. So if you want to give her a try, I recommend starting with Lily White. It is, in my opinion, her second best, and that way you get to read both, but the second one is even better than the first, which is always a good way to do it.
His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman. The three books are actually called The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass. You have to be willing to read YA fantasy novels, but these are so much more than that. It's about religion and its role in society, and science and the meaning of life, and it's very sophisticated. I cried and cried and cried. I can't wait to read them again.
Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro. He wrote The Remains of the Day, which I haven't read yet, and When We Were Orphans, which I'm reading now. (And by the way, what's with everyone's delusion that he's going to actually FIND his parents after 15 years?) Never Let Me Go was the first of his books that I read, and it was just lovely. He's so clear and uncomplicated, yet so very complex and personal. This is a book with a science fiction plot, but it is in no way a science fiction book. It's not the near future or an alternate reality. It's England, here and now, and it's about what makes us human.
The Midwives, Chris Bohjalian. I've been meaning to reread this, so I base this recommendation on my memory of how good this book is. Again, it's the best of his work. There isn't a lot to say about it; it's a coming of age story about a girl whose mother is a midwife who might or might not be in legal trouble. This author deals often with people whose lifestyles fall just between fringe and mainstream--homeopaths, dowsers, midwives--and his stories are often about people trying to find a place for these things in an "ordinary" worldview.
Which Lie Did I Tell?, William Goldman. Bill Goldman has written some of my favorite books (The Color of Light, The Princess Bride), but you're more likely to have seen his movies. He's a screenwriter, with credits like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All The President's Men, The Stepford Wives, and The Princess Bride. This book is part how-to for aspiring screenwriters, part memoir, part gossip-fest. He's got some very good insights (my favorite: In Hollywood, nobody knows anything. They like to pretend they can tell what will be a hit and what won't, but nobody understands how craft becomes magic), but his ability to tell a good anecdote and very conversational writing style really carry this book.
The Nun's Story, Kathryn Hulme. I will always recommend this, though it's not up everyone's alley. It's a very internal, quiet look at the life of a nun from the time she enters a convent, through her travels to various nursing posts, and to Africa, in the Belgian Congo. It was a movie with Audrey Hepburn, which I also love. Both book and movie are somewhat slow and very straightforward--there is no poetry here, except that the experience is poetry. Even the sparest writing style lets that shine through. I find this book lovely, and though I can't say I have reason to believe it'd be your exact cup of tea, Jen, I have to recommend it anyway.
That's all for now. More later, I'm sure.
Shining Through, Susan Isaacs. This book is the most fun ever. The narrator, Linda, is funny and smart, but susceptible to bad choices--the kind you can understand. You get all the drama and gravity of World War II, along with a great office-gossip storyline.
Note, however, that this is Susan Isaacs' best book. So if you want to give her a try, I recommend starting with Lily White. It is, in my opinion, her second best, and that way you get to read both, but the second one is even better than the first, which is always a good way to do it.
His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman. The three books are actually called The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass. You have to be willing to read YA fantasy novels, but these are so much more than that. It's about religion and its role in society, and science and the meaning of life, and it's very sophisticated. I cried and cried and cried. I can't wait to read them again.
Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro. He wrote The Remains of the Day, which I haven't read yet, and When We Were Orphans, which I'm reading now. (And by the way, what's with everyone's delusion that he's going to actually FIND his parents after 15 years?) Never Let Me Go was the first of his books that I read, and it was just lovely. He's so clear and uncomplicated, yet so very complex and personal. This is a book with a science fiction plot, but it is in no way a science fiction book. It's not the near future or an alternate reality. It's England, here and now, and it's about what makes us human.
The Midwives, Chris Bohjalian. I've been meaning to reread this, so I base this recommendation on my memory of how good this book is. Again, it's the best of his work. There isn't a lot to say about it; it's a coming of age story about a girl whose mother is a midwife who might or might not be in legal trouble. This author deals often with people whose lifestyles fall just between fringe and mainstream--homeopaths, dowsers, midwives--and his stories are often about people trying to find a place for these things in an "ordinary" worldview.
Which Lie Did I Tell?, William Goldman. Bill Goldman has written some of my favorite books (The Color of Light, The Princess Bride), but you're more likely to have seen his movies. He's a screenwriter, with credits like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All The President's Men, The Stepford Wives, and The Princess Bride. This book is part how-to for aspiring screenwriters, part memoir, part gossip-fest. He's got some very good insights (my favorite: In Hollywood, nobody knows anything. They like to pretend they can tell what will be a hit and what won't, but nobody understands how craft becomes magic), but his ability to tell a good anecdote and very conversational writing style really carry this book.
The Nun's Story, Kathryn Hulme. I will always recommend this, though it's not up everyone's alley. It's a very internal, quiet look at the life of a nun from the time she enters a convent, through her travels to various nursing posts, and to Africa, in the Belgian Congo. It was a movie with Audrey Hepburn, which I also love. Both book and movie are somewhat slow and very straightforward--there is no poetry here, except that the experience is poetry. Even the sparest writing style lets that shine through. I find this book lovely, and though I can't say I have reason to believe it'd be your exact cup of tea, Jen, I have to recommend it anyway.
That's all for now. More later, I'm sure.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Impassioned Blogging
I'm not someone who can write with passion, I guess. I was going to write about this article, which caused me to seethe when I read it. But then I read this other article that made a lot of my points for me, and my impetus was gone.
Though I'd still like to point out that I think she's on the wrong track when she considers the trends she sees to be anti-feminist. As a fairly well-educated woman of the modern age, I feel comfortable saying that it's not my desire to be owned by a man that made me decide to change my name when I get married. It's recognizing that the solutions to the problem of name change that we have (hyphenation, one parent not sharing a name with the kids) are all imperfect. And women deciding that they want to be in the home is not watching them flush their intelligence away--the fact is, there are also lots more stay-at-home dads than there used to be. I think that everyone is beginning to recognize that getting ahead in business is not always very satisfying, and that it's okay to feel like the people in your life, family and friends, are a bigger priorty.
Not everyone will agree with me, and that's just fine, but if I make that decision, I'm not a throwback. I'm gifted to live in a time when I get to choose my own priorities. And I'm grateful to everyone who came before me who made it so that when the time comes, I'll be choosing what to do about my career and my family. I think I'll enjoy being a mom, but I think I would have enjoyed it a lot less if no one had ever asked me whether it was what I wanted.
Coming soon: a suggested reading list for Jen K-D.
Though I'd still like to point out that I think she's on the wrong track when she considers the trends she sees to be anti-feminist. As a fairly well-educated woman of the modern age, I feel comfortable saying that it's not my desire to be owned by a man that made me decide to change my name when I get married. It's recognizing that the solutions to the problem of name change that we have (hyphenation, one parent not sharing a name with the kids) are all imperfect. And women deciding that they want to be in the home is not watching them flush their intelligence away--the fact is, there are also lots more stay-at-home dads than there used to be. I think that everyone is beginning to recognize that getting ahead in business is not always very satisfying, and that it's okay to feel like the people in your life, family and friends, are a bigger priorty.
Not everyone will agree with me, and that's just fine, but if I make that decision, I'm not a throwback. I'm gifted to live in a time when I get to choose my own priorities. And I'm grateful to everyone who came before me who made it so that when the time comes, I'll be choosing what to do about my career and my family. I think I'll enjoy being a mom, but I think I would have enjoyed it a lot less if no one had ever asked me whether it was what I wanted.
Coming soon: a suggested reading list for Jen K-D.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Spoke Too Soon
Okay, so Spider has begun to purposefully mess up Fat Charlie's life. Sorry, Neil, you've tread into territory that innately troubles me.
I checked out the book Sex and the City by Candace Bushnell. I'm not a fan of the show, but the two episodes I caught have seemed somewhat charming, in a slick, shallow, too-rich, too-promiscuous way that I would feel bad calling "New York" if that wasn't the whole point. Aside from the morbid outlook (on page 3, a "happily married" friend of the author says that it's easier to be single than be in a couple, because instead of "fun"--described as drinking, drugs, and parties--your only choice is to sit home in your tiny apartment and stare at each other. ), the thing that bothered me was a huge glaring factual error.
She mentions Breakfast at Tiffany's as an example of romance. Okay, fine, either way. Then she says that Truman Capote understood romance, because these two independent people end up giving love a try. This woman clearly saw the movie, and then tried to use that to make a literary reference. I love this movie, but you don't get to talk about Audrey Hepburn and Truman Capote as though they participated in the same project. In the book (sorry for the spoiler), she doesn't end up with him--she runs off to Africa.
On this subject, I am incensed.
Also, it was in nonfiction. Hmm....
I checked out the book Sex and the City by Candace Bushnell. I'm not a fan of the show, but the two episodes I caught have seemed somewhat charming, in a slick, shallow, too-rich, too-promiscuous way that I would feel bad calling "New York" if that wasn't the whole point. Aside from the morbid outlook (on page 3, a "happily married" friend of the author says that it's easier to be single than be in a couple, because instead of "fun"--described as drinking, drugs, and parties--your only choice is to sit home in your tiny apartment and stare at each other. ), the thing that bothered me was a huge glaring factual error.
She mentions Breakfast at Tiffany's as an example of romance. Okay, fine, either way. Then she says that Truman Capote understood romance, because these two independent people end up giving love a try. This woman clearly saw the movie, and then tried to use that to make a literary reference. I love this movie, but you don't get to talk about Audrey Hepburn and Truman Capote as though they participated in the same project. In the book (sorry for the spoiler), she doesn't end up with him--she runs off to Africa.
On this subject, I am incensed.
Also, it was in nonfiction. Hmm....
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Kudos to Gaiman
I have to say, Neil Gaiman's doing something in Anansi Boys that I didn't think could be done.
One of my pet peeves is the story about someone who's living a normal, happy, regular life, trying to be a good person and find a reasonable amount of happiness, whose life is then shaken up and turned upside down by someone wild and outrageous, with the moral lesson being that keeping your head down is an unacceptable way to live life.
Anansi Boys looked like one of those stories. Fat Charlie is clearly meek and not carpeing the diem. Spider shows up, and makes things "happen." Fat Charlie's a little miserable. And yet, Spider hasn't done anything to ruin Fat Charlie's life. Sure he's blackmailing his boss a little, but that's working out very well for him. Everything that's going wrong in Fat Charlie's life is his own fault or no one's--even indirectly, Spider is only making his life better, not worse.
So far, of course. But it's nice to be so pleasantly surprised.
One of my pet peeves is the story about someone who's living a normal, happy, regular life, trying to be a good person and find a reasonable amount of happiness, whose life is then shaken up and turned upside down by someone wild and outrageous, with the moral lesson being that keeping your head down is an unacceptable way to live life.
Anansi Boys looked like one of those stories. Fat Charlie is clearly meek and not carpeing the diem. Spider shows up, and makes things "happen." Fat Charlie's a little miserable. And yet, Spider hasn't done anything to ruin Fat Charlie's life. Sure he's blackmailing his boss a little, but that's working out very well for him. Everything that's going wrong in Fat Charlie's life is his own fault or no one's--even indirectly, Spider is only making his life better, not worse.
So far, of course. But it's nice to be so pleasantly surprised.
Monday, October 31, 2005
With Apologies to George Takei
Well, color me chagrined. Just when I gave up on him, George Takei makes bold to come out of the closet. I congratulate him and his longtime partner, and I hope this step brings him happiness.
I don't think I'll read the book, though. I was so excited to read about the Nisei camps that making them boring was quite a feat. I blame the writing. Sorry, George--I love your acting career!
Okay, in other news, I'm reading The Art of War by Sun Tzu. This is very interesting, and makes me realize that a) I'm not smart enough to wage a good war, and b) neither is anyone currently waging war today. On one hand, the bad guys have it righter than we, in that it's all psychological. But they've got it all wrong, because a good war has very few casualties. A good war is won or lost before the battle begins. I don't know if I can explain it very well, but it's about a strategy that involves as much psychology as warfare, and about understanding your assets and liabilities, and also those of the enemy.
Good book--recommended.
I don't think I'll read the book, though. I was so excited to read about the Nisei camps that making them boring was quite a feat. I blame the writing. Sorry, George--I love your acting career!
Okay, in other news, I'm reading The Art of War by Sun Tzu. This is very interesting, and makes me realize that a) I'm not smart enough to wage a good war, and b) neither is anyone currently waging war today. On one hand, the bad guys have it righter than we, in that it's all psychological. But they've got it all wrong, because a good war has very few casualties. A good war is won or lost before the battle begins. I don't know if I can explain it very well, but it's about a strategy that involves as much psychology as warfare, and about understanding your assets and liabilities, and also those of the enemy.
Good book--recommended.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Surrender
Sheer madness. I've been out of the office and crazed with busyness so far this week. There's a storm, there was a Richard Thompson concert, and I'm exhausted. I've given up on George Takei, and the BPL says that the Bridal Bargains book I reserved is in. That's it. I give up. I'm going to the library.
And I'm going to go nuts. I'm so excited. A bunch of random stuff I just sort of want to look at--a book of candid anecdotes about motherhood (what "they" don't tell you), a book I heard about on This American Life, in which a pop psychologist offers you scripts for common relationship discussions that are difficult to have. Plus maybe The Lady and the Unicorn, which I kind of figure is going to be mediocre (Tracy Chevalier is either a bulls-eye or just sort of okay, and Sara tells me this one is the latter). Maybe Unveiled, the nun book I've been saving back for a rainy day.
Hurricanes and nor'easters--it's raining.
And I'm going to go nuts. I'm so excited. A bunch of random stuff I just sort of want to look at--a book of candid anecdotes about motherhood (what "they" don't tell you), a book I heard about on This American Life, in which a pop psychologist offers you scripts for common relationship discussions that are difficult to have. Plus maybe The Lady and the Unicorn, which I kind of figure is going to be mediocre (Tracy Chevalier is either a bulls-eye or just sort of okay, and Sara tells me this one is the latter). Maybe Unveiled, the nun book I've been saving back for a rainy day.
Hurricanes and nor'easters--it's raining.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Not So Far From Home
Okay, there's no way I'm going to be able to read George Takei's autobiography. I thought I could, and it sounds so interesting--childhood in Nisei camps, becoming an Asian-American actor in 1950s Hollywood, Star Trek. But no, and I'm afraid I blame the fact that he wrote it himself. I do not detect a ghostwriter here. It's just boring, as boring as anyone talking about their life, trying to communicate how important to them the mundane moments are, but, sadly, failing.
Pledged is better, in that it's trashy and light. It's like college all over, but with the 90210 kids instead of your real friends. But the life these girls are looking for sounds like true hell to me. I would sleep on park benches rather than in this sorority house, or any of the ones in the book.
I'm getting closer to having permission to go to the library. Midwives and We Were Orphans. Also I've had an urge to reread the fourth Clan of the Cave Bear book, The Plains of Passage. It's as awful as the title sounds, but if you skip through to the high points, it's racy and exciting.
I have to work Sunday this week, so I'm pretty bummed. I hope it doesn't ruin my Saturday, though I'm worried it will. Ugh.
Pledged is better, in that it's trashy and light. It's like college all over, but with the 90210 kids instead of your real friends. But the life these girls are looking for sounds like true hell to me. I would sleep on park benches rather than in this sorority house, or any of the ones in the book.
I'm getting closer to having permission to go to the library. Midwives and We Were Orphans. Also I've had an urge to reread the fourth Clan of the Cave Bear book, The Plains of Passage. It's as awful as the title sounds, but if you skip through to the high points, it's racy and exciting.
I have to work Sunday this week, so I'm pretty bummed. I hope it doesn't ruin my Saturday, though I'm worried it will. Ugh.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Psst! I Think Kevin's a Sociopath
So I finished We Need to Talk About Kevin, which was quite wrenching and challenging. I think it's particularly difficult to wrestle with because there are a lot of things about parenthood that kind of hush-hush, or inappropriate to say. I know people say that it's hard work, but I think they tend to shy away from seeing parents as people when they're in their parenting role. (Okay, I tried not to say it this way, but I will: people shy away from human frailty when discussing parents qua parents.)
Anyway, I'm a little torn about the ending. I don't want to give it away, because I'd recommend this book to anyone looking for a good, challenging read, but I'll ask just Ceci, who lent it to me: Did you buy the ending? Did it seem a little too tidy?
One thing I was very impressed with was the unreliable narrator. She was pretty darned reliable, actually, except...maybe not? The whole book is an exploration of guilt and blame taken on by someone whose life is subsumed in guilt but who sees a lot of the milestones in the book as inevitable.
I wish this had been a book club book. I'd really like to wrestle with it.
Anyway, I'm a little torn about the ending. I don't want to give it away, because I'd recommend this book to anyone looking for a good, challenging read, but I'll ask just Ceci, who lent it to me: Did you buy the ending? Did it seem a little too tidy?
One thing I was very impressed with was the unreliable narrator. She was pretty darned reliable, actually, except...maybe not? The whole book is an exploration of guilt and blame taken on by someone whose life is subsumed in guilt but who sees a lot of the milestones in the book as inevitable.
I wish this had been a book club book. I'd really like to wrestle with it.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Falling All Over Myself
In looking for a new audiobook to listen to, I've unwittingly lengthened the list of books to read.
First of all, there are definitely some bad readers out there. The unabridged version of Before You Know Kindness (Chris Bohjalian) at Audible is read poorly. The abridged version is read well, by Blair Brown (of The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd! Remember that? Urban ladies' sex lives!). Blair Brown also read Drowning Ruth. I never felt the need to read it till I heard the sample on Audible. Now I'm eager to.
Ugh. I need a week's vacation full of rainy days. One rainy day just makes me realize how much reading I'm up against. Before I'm allowed to go to the library again:
Drowned Ammet
Pledged: The Secret Lives of Sororities
We Need to Talk About Kevin
To the Stars: The Autobiography of George Takei
We Were Orphans
Midwives
I've read Midwives, so that's just a reread, but I've wanted to for a while.
Oh, what a glut of pleasure!
First of all, there are definitely some bad readers out there. The unabridged version of Before You Know Kindness (Chris Bohjalian) at Audible is read poorly. The abridged version is read well, by Blair Brown (of The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd! Remember that? Urban ladies' sex lives!). Blair Brown also read Drowning Ruth. I never felt the need to read it till I heard the sample on Audible. Now I'm eager to.
Ugh. I need a week's vacation full of rainy days. One rainy day just makes me realize how much reading I'm up against. Before I'm allowed to go to the library again:
Drowned Ammet
Pledged: The Secret Lives of Sororities
We Need to Talk About Kevin
To the Stars: The Autobiography of George Takei
We Were Orphans
Midwives
I've read Midwives, so that's just a reread, but I've wanted to for a while.
Oh, what a glut of pleasure!
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Venting
Okay, I don't want to ruin this for anyone, but every time I pick up this book, I feel prickles on the back of my neck. Besides reading in short bursts, I think venting is the best answer. So:
You, Franklin, are BLIND!!! Listen to your wife! Help your son!
Eva, run away! I know it would be abandonment, but Franklin is determined to play this horrible lie out to the end. If you run now, you can avert....
...well, avert how we know the story ends, because the entire story is told in flashback. It seems so obvious, but is that only because it's hindsight? I think that's a major theme of this story, too. It's a very thematic tale, really.
Anyway, I've vented, and now I'm ready to take it on again.
You, Franklin, are BLIND!!! Listen to your wife! Help your son!
Eva, run away! I know it would be abandonment, but Franklin is determined to play this horrible lie out to the end. If you run now, you can avert....
...well, avert how we know the story ends, because the entire story is told in flashback. It seems so obvious, but is that only because it's hindsight? I think that's a major theme of this story, too. It's a very thematic tale, really.
Anyway, I've vented, and now I'm ready to take it on again.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Stevie K.
Finished up with Bag of Bones. I have to give him this; even the long-winded stuff ended up connected to the story. He spends too much time invoking his themes--repeating seemingly innocuous bits of conversation from earlier in the book for ominous effect, for example--but by the end, everything I thought was a digression had been incorporated. I still think it could have been done faster, but in the end I'd call it a good book.
Now I need another audiobook, and I think I've realized it needs to be pretty action-packed, because you don't get as much out of language from listening. I've got Anansi Boys, the new Neil Gaiman, but I'm not sure I want to read it. Mike's liking it, though, so I'll give it a shot.
I'm also moving along in We Need to Talk about Kevin. For those who know me, this will come as a surprise, but I'm enjoying this book and finding it fascinating, in spite of the fact that I hate every single character and find the whole outlook of the book to be revolting. I think it's because the author does a good job of making me realize that I'm NOT supposed to get behind the worldview of the narrator. Often other people tell me an author is doing that, but I can't feel it. Fight Club. The Epicure's Lament. But this book has so many layers of self-consciousness--even just within the letters the character is writing, before you get to the author. She's a person with a kind of poisonous attitude toward almost everything, whose son turned out to be a genuine, gun-em-down sociopath. So she's exploring what a creepy changeling of a child he was, while also exploring her own emotional failings as a mother.
The nature of blame and guilt--what it's worth, how it's assigned, whether it means anything--is a big theme. The challenging part of the book is that this woman is blaming herself on some level, but also trying to exonerate herself by making it clear that everything was inevitable.
It's complex. I'm enjoying sorting her mind out, because she's someone I feel like I see a lot in the world--media, message boards, maybe even real life. Someone who's mostly cynical, but wants to find that core of sincerity in life, but also doesn't want to believe in it because cynical = superior.
It's got me thinking. Thanks for the loan Ceci.
Now I need another audiobook, and I think I've realized it needs to be pretty action-packed, because you don't get as much out of language from listening. I've got Anansi Boys, the new Neil Gaiman, but I'm not sure I want to read it. Mike's liking it, though, so I'll give it a shot.
I'm also moving along in We Need to Talk about Kevin. For those who know me, this will come as a surprise, but I'm enjoying this book and finding it fascinating, in spite of the fact that I hate every single character and find the whole outlook of the book to be revolting. I think it's because the author does a good job of making me realize that I'm NOT supposed to get behind the worldview of the narrator. Often other people tell me an author is doing that, but I can't feel it. Fight Club. The Epicure's Lament. But this book has so many layers of self-consciousness--even just within the letters the character is writing, before you get to the author. She's a person with a kind of poisonous attitude toward almost everything, whose son turned out to be a genuine, gun-em-down sociopath. So she's exploring what a creepy changeling of a child he was, while also exploring her own emotional failings as a mother.
The nature of blame and guilt--what it's worth, how it's assigned, whether it means anything--is a big theme. The challenging part of the book is that this woman is blaming herself on some level, but also trying to exonerate herself by making it clear that everything was inevitable.
It's complex. I'm enjoying sorting her mind out, because she's someone I feel like I see a lot in the world--media, message boards, maybe even real life. Someone who's mostly cynical, but wants to find that core of sincerity in life, but also doesn't want to believe in it because cynical = superior.
It's got me thinking. Thanks for the loan Ceci.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
So Tired
Business trip. Eating Steak & Shake. Went to the movies by myself (Flightplan, not bad). Time zone off, so sleepy.
But anyway, I haven't read as much as usual when travelling. Staying alone in a hotel room is not leading to as much free time as I expected. I've been--get this--leaving the hotel roomin the evening, SO unlike me. Good stuff, though.
I did read Cart and Cwidder by Diana Wynne Jones, which was a short but not slight YA fantasy Melissa lent me. I was surprised by how rich it was, and how sad and serious. I always think it's a great accomplishment when a storyteller can put the fate of the world in the hands of a band of ragtag kids without jumping through hoops to make it believable. Harry Potter, for example (and if I'm ever going to get flack, it'll be for this), has to perform what I feel are contortions to make the adults careless enough for Harry to have to keep saving the day.
Anyway, I'm also reading We Need to Talk about Kevin, a loaner from Ceci, which I'm getting the groove of. It's a little tough because it's an epistolary novel (Mike, tell me if I have that wrong), but the voice is not that of a normal person writing letters to her estranged husband. Partly because normal people don't talk like that, which I'm learning is because this character isn't normal (it hit me like The Epicure's Lament in that respect--this person is pretentious every minute of the day). But partly because, as a novel, it has to tell me things that could be written in shorthand to an estranged husband. She wouldn't have to recount all these memories in such detail--she'd put "Remember when..." and move on. But once I got used to that, I've really gotten into her voice, and it's interesting how she can be both so sympathetic and so unsympathetic as the same time.
I can't decide if I should hope to sleep all the way home, or hope not to. I think I want the sleep more, but it's so late right now!
Home Friday.
But anyway, I haven't read as much as usual when travelling. Staying alone in a hotel room is not leading to as much free time as I expected. I've been--get this--leaving the hotel roomin the evening, SO unlike me. Good stuff, though.
I did read Cart and Cwidder by Diana Wynne Jones, which was a short but not slight YA fantasy Melissa lent me. I was surprised by how rich it was, and how sad and serious. I always think it's a great accomplishment when a storyteller can put the fate of the world in the hands of a band of ragtag kids without jumping through hoops to make it believable. Harry Potter, for example (and if I'm ever going to get flack, it'll be for this), has to perform what I feel are contortions to make the adults careless enough for Harry to have to keep saving the day.
Anyway, I'm also reading We Need to Talk about Kevin, a loaner from Ceci, which I'm getting the groove of. It's a little tough because it's an epistolary novel (Mike, tell me if I have that wrong), but the voice is not that of a normal person writing letters to her estranged husband. Partly because normal people don't talk like that, which I'm learning is because this character isn't normal (it hit me like The Epicure's Lament in that respect--this person is pretentious every minute of the day). But partly because, as a novel, it has to tell me things that could be written in shorthand to an estranged husband. She wouldn't have to recount all these memories in such detail--she'd put "Remember when..." and move on. But once I got used to that, I've really gotten into her voice, and it's interesting how she can be both so sympathetic and so unsympathetic as the same time.
I can't decide if I should hope to sleep all the way home, or hope not to. I think I want the sleep more, but it's so late right now!
Home Friday.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Been a Slacker
I've meant to write more; I like to keep this up a few times a week. But it's been a pretty stressful week at work, and I've also felt kind of slow and dumb, and not up to analyzing things.
This is particularly sad, since I had some interesting thoughts I wanted to put down earlier this week about a talk I went to. Ed Burger, a math professor at Williams, just published a book called Coincidences, Chaos, and All That Math Jazz, and I went to see him speak about it at the Harvard Bookstore. It was really interesting, and I asked a question, which made me very proud. (My question, for the interested, was this: in his book he discusses how cryptography depends on the fact that it's very, very hard to factor number. So if a HUGE number has only two HUGE prime factors, it can be used in cryptography. My question is, if you can't factor huge numbers, how do you know if a number is prime?)
Anyway, I had just finished his book, which is in large part about how our intuition is often wrong about things, and how math points us to the right answers. And I had just started a book called The Scientist in the Crib (I have to stop reading nonfiction, it's not nearly escapist enough), which is about how babies explore the world around them and come by all the knowledge that seems given the rest of us.
And I had in my head this big long discussion of the idea of being surprised by the nature of reality, and how these two books fit togther. Only now I'm feeling mentally logey, and it turns out the Scientist is really more about how amazing it is that babies are born able to understand seeing and hearing, etc. which doesn't seem THAT amazing to me since animals are born like that, too (I like the parts of the book about social skills and language much better). So we're going to abandon that lofty plan.
Yeah, I really need to read some fiction.
This is particularly sad, since I had some interesting thoughts I wanted to put down earlier this week about a talk I went to. Ed Burger, a math professor at Williams, just published a book called Coincidences, Chaos, and All That Math Jazz, and I went to see him speak about it at the Harvard Bookstore. It was really interesting, and I asked a question, which made me very proud. (My question, for the interested, was this: in his book he discusses how cryptography depends on the fact that it's very, very hard to factor number. So if a HUGE number has only two HUGE prime factors, it can be used in cryptography. My question is, if you can't factor huge numbers, how do you know if a number is prime?)
Anyway, I had just finished his book, which is in large part about how our intuition is often wrong about things, and how math points us to the right answers. And I had just started a book called The Scientist in the Crib (I have to stop reading nonfiction, it's not nearly escapist enough), which is about how babies explore the world around them and come by all the knowledge that seems given the rest of us.
And I had in my head this big long discussion of the idea of being surprised by the nature of reality, and how these two books fit togther. Only now I'm feeling mentally logey, and it turns out the Scientist is really more about how amazing it is that babies are born able to understand seeing and hearing, etc. which doesn't seem THAT amazing to me since animals are born like that, too (I like the parts of the book about social skills and language much better). So we're going to abandon that lofty plan.
Yeah, I really need to read some fiction.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Personal Library Renaissance, Redux
I had made a resolution to read some fiction, finally, after glutting on nonfiction. I enjoy nonfiction, but it's not as engrossing, and it doesn't give me the same rush that fiction does.
So after I finish The Scientist in the Crib, which I'm hoping has lots of cute little kid anecdotes, I think I'm not only going to move on to fiction, but to reinstate the Personal Library Renaissance that I've been talking about forever. No more library books for me! No deadline, though--I just won't go through the usual cycle of returning some and getting new ones on the same trip. I'm learning not to ask too much of myself.
I do still have the library book n.p. by Banana Yoshimoto. I don't think it's a great translation, since a lot of the more casual language looks very stilted. The dialog, especially, looks like it's been translated word-for-word and without much style. But the plot sounds intriguing--a young woman tries to solve the mystery of her boyfriend's suicide. It turns out everyone who has tried to translate a certain story by a certain author has committed suicide, as indeed the author himself did. I worry it'll be a letdown, but I'll take what I can get.
Then I think When We Were Orphans by Kazuo Ishiguro, which Becky was kind enough to lend/give to me. I've been so excited about that book that I've held off on it, because once I read it, I won't be able to look forward to it anymore. Or maybe I'm worried that it won't live up to my hopes. Whichever.
And The Final Solution by Michael Chabon. And then Ceci's going to lend me Pledged (non-fiction, but trashy nonfiction!) and We Need to Talk about Kevin. I think I'll reread Midwives.
I think that's it. That's enough to promise myself; who knows what will need to be read between now and then?
So after I finish The Scientist in the Crib, which I'm hoping has lots of cute little kid anecdotes, I think I'm not only going to move on to fiction, but to reinstate the Personal Library Renaissance that I've been talking about forever. No more library books for me! No deadline, though--I just won't go through the usual cycle of returning some and getting new ones on the same trip. I'm learning not to ask too much of myself.
I do still have the library book n.p. by Banana Yoshimoto. I don't think it's a great translation, since a lot of the more casual language looks very stilted. The dialog, especially, looks like it's been translated word-for-word and without much style. But the plot sounds intriguing--a young woman tries to solve the mystery of her boyfriend's suicide. It turns out everyone who has tried to translate a certain story by a certain author has committed suicide, as indeed the author himself did. I worry it'll be a letdown, but I'll take what I can get.
Then I think When We Were Orphans by Kazuo Ishiguro, which Becky was kind enough to lend/give to me. I've been so excited about that book that I've held off on it, because once I read it, I won't be able to look forward to it anymore. Or maybe I'm worried that it won't live up to my hopes. Whichever.
And The Final Solution by Michael Chabon. And then Ceci's going to lend me Pledged (non-fiction, but trashy nonfiction!) and We Need to Talk about Kevin. I think I'll reread Midwives.
I think that's it. That's enough to promise myself; who knows what will need to be read between now and then?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Cocky Fellows
I imagine my post title might get some interesting google hits. Bring 'em on!
I read Freakonomics. I have to say I was disappointed. It was slight, smug, and cocky, and this from both of the authors.
The economist clearly thought he was imparting something very, very special. But anyone who's ever read Slate's occasional column "The Dismal Science" knows that this is what economics is about--applying the theories of incentives to explain data. And, sadly but often, applying monetary figures to non-monetary transactions. The economist, in analyzing the effects of parenting on children, chose school test scores to measure success. The conclusion he reached is that who your parents are has an effect, but not what they do (so your parents' socioeconomic status and level of education will affect you, but not whether they read to you, talk to you or spank you). Now, at the beginning of this whole argument, he admits that he picked test scores as an indicator just because they're quantifiable and available in large numbers. But by the end of the chapter, he had drawn sweeping conclusions that I suspect would have been shattered if you were able to measure an effect like how happy and well adjusted the children turned out.
Really, it's just that he acted like he was giving me this magical gift of his insight, when really all I felt like he was doing was the tedious work of crunching some interesting numbers for me.
The writer, in the meantime, was using excerpts from an article he wrote about this guy for the NY Times Magazine for epigraphs for each chapter. Not only do I consider that kind of lazy, but the point of each excerpt was not about economics, but about how cool and punk rock this guy is.
My favorite bit of bad writing is in a place where the writer (the guy's name is Stephen J. Dubner) tries to build suspense in a sentence. Check this out. "...are we to assume that mankind is innately and universally corrupt? And if so, how corrupt? The answer may lie in . . . bagels."
Now, check out the use of ellipses there. That's in the original book. He wants to build tension before startling us with his revelation that bagels may hold the key to mankind's corruption. What a cheap way to do it.
The next book I picked up is How to be Alone by Jonathan Franzen. I borrowed this from Lynne a while ago and just picked it up. After reading the preface, I almost put it down. The preface was about how he had been defensive about what a jerk everyone thought he was till he went back and looked at his essays of a few years ago and realized what a jerk he was. The way he addressed this subject made him look like a real jerk. But I've been sucked into his essay about the crappy Chicago postal system, and while I still have no desire to read about his theories on the demise of the American novel, the postal system stuff is really interesting.
In sum, cocky, but we'll give him a shot.
I read Freakonomics. I have to say I was disappointed. It was slight, smug, and cocky, and this from both of the authors.
The economist clearly thought he was imparting something very, very special. But anyone who's ever read Slate's occasional column "The Dismal Science" knows that this is what economics is about--applying the theories of incentives to explain data. And, sadly but often, applying monetary figures to non-monetary transactions. The economist, in analyzing the effects of parenting on children, chose school test scores to measure success. The conclusion he reached is that who your parents are has an effect, but not what they do (so your parents' socioeconomic status and level of education will affect you, but not whether they read to you, talk to you or spank you). Now, at the beginning of this whole argument, he admits that he picked test scores as an indicator just because they're quantifiable and available in large numbers. But by the end of the chapter, he had drawn sweeping conclusions that I suspect would have been shattered if you were able to measure an effect like how happy and well adjusted the children turned out.
Really, it's just that he acted like he was giving me this magical gift of his insight, when really all I felt like he was doing was the tedious work of crunching some interesting numbers for me.
The writer, in the meantime, was using excerpts from an article he wrote about this guy for the NY Times Magazine for epigraphs for each chapter. Not only do I consider that kind of lazy, but the point of each excerpt was not about economics, but about how cool and punk rock this guy is.
My favorite bit of bad writing is in a place where the writer (the guy's name is Stephen J. Dubner) tries to build suspense in a sentence. Check this out. "...are we to assume that mankind is innately and universally corrupt? And if so, how corrupt? The answer may lie in . . . bagels."
Now, check out the use of ellipses there. That's in the original book. He wants to build tension before startling us with his revelation that bagels may hold the key to mankind's corruption. What a cheap way to do it.
The next book I picked up is How to be Alone by Jonathan Franzen. I borrowed this from Lynne a while ago and just picked it up. After reading the preface, I almost put it down. The preface was about how he had been defensive about what a jerk everyone thought he was till he went back and looked at his essays of a few years ago and realized what a jerk he was. The way he addressed this subject made him look like a real jerk. But I've been sucked into his essay about the crappy Chicago postal system, and while I still have no desire to read about his theories on the demise of the American novel, the postal system stuff is really interesting.
In sum, cocky, but we'll give him a shot.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I Can't Believe I Didn't Tell You This One Yet
Okay, it's time for everyone to understand what a BAD library companion Melissa is.
She reads, we share books--so I thought I'd bring her to the BPL. I have a list of about four books I need to pick up. It'll be fun, right?
Now, when I go shopping with friends who have self-control problems, I consider myself very good at hurling myself between them and temptation. Not that I'd forcibly prevent anyone from making a good purchase, but when Kerry would approach the bath products, I knew it was time to divert her. And you can only let Sara spend so much time in the handbags section before things get a little hairy. Isn't it your duty, as a friend, to make sure the person doesn't hurt themselves when temptation is near?
Melissa, you let me down. She kept pointing things out. She stopped me in the bridal section. She stood on silently as I debated picking up that random Young Adult book that caught my eye, and then said "why not?" when I asked her directly if I should take it.
Why not? I'll tell you why not--do you know how heavy twelve books can be? When you don't have a bag to carry them in? THAT'S why not. What happened to support? What happened to picking up the slack when someone's weakness comes into play.
Melissa, I adore you, but next time we go to the library together, you're getting a cue card with the word "NO" written on it. It looks like I'm going to need self-control for both of us.
She reads, we share books--so I thought I'd bring her to the BPL. I have a list of about four books I need to pick up. It'll be fun, right?
Now, when I go shopping with friends who have self-control problems, I consider myself very good at hurling myself between them and temptation. Not that I'd forcibly prevent anyone from making a good purchase, but when Kerry would approach the bath products, I knew it was time to divert her. And you can only let Sara spend so much time in the handbags section before things get a little hairy. Isn't it your duty, as a friend, to make sure the person doesn't hurt themselves when temptation is near?
Melissa, you let me down. She kept pointing things out. She stopped me in the bridal section. She stood on silently as I debated picking up that random Young Adult book that caught my eye, and then said "why not?" when I asked her directly if I should take it.
Why not? I'll tell you why not--do you know how heavy twelve books can be? When you don't have a bag to carry them in? THAT'S why not. What happened to support? What happened to picking up the slack when someone's weakness comes into play.
Melissa, I adore you, but next time we go to the library together, you're getting a cue card with the word "NO" written on it. It looks like I'm going to need self-control for both of us.
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