tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26756801587910253282024-03-05T05:25:32.518-08:00A Peculiar InfluenceThe classics are books that exert a peculiar influence, both when they refuse to be eradicated from the mind and when they conceal themselves in the folds of memory, camouflaging themselves as the collective or individual unconscious.
-Italo CalvinoKarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-21005970322870446002012-04-22T15:08:00.003-07:002012-04-22T15:38:38.428-07:00A midnight poetry readingI have tried to love T. S. Eliot's <i>The Waste Land</i>. I have read it several times over the past 13 years. I have listened to university lectures on Eliot, on his contemporaries, on <i>The Waste Land</i> itself. I have read articles, study guides, reviews by readers who know what they're talking about, and some by those who don't. I picked it up again, thinking that perhaps it's an acquired taste. If so, I still haven't acquired it.<br />
<br />
As I drove through town last week I consoled myself against my <i>Waste Land</i> failure with the fact that I've always liked poetry; I'm just having a hard time with this particular poem. Yes, I told myself, I've always liked poetry, ever since...since when? What was my first experience of real poetry (Itsy Bitsy Spider doesn't count)? And as I waited at a red light, that memory came back to me in its entirety, and it was a moment of history being reinterpreted in light of later events. Of course, at the time I had no idea a formative event was taking place. Looking back, I now see that I've summoned that night repeatedly over the years as I rifled through long library shelves and used book bins, searching for a book, a page, a line that would bring back that rhythm, that feeling, that night. Now you're wondering... was it a poetry reading? Perhaps a schoolwide literature event? Maybe a tv special in which an actor recited a poem with perfect diction and feeling? Nope.<br />
<br />
The evening began with me spending a 2 hour car ride with my grandparents. They brought along a bag of popcorn for us to share as a snack. This story taking place in 1980s rural Alaska (which was noticeably microwave-free), the bag of popcorn was a large paper grocery sack, filled with air-popped, buttered, and salted popcorn. I'm very sure I ate more than my fair share, because I then spent most of the night vomiting into a garbage can in my aunt's bedroom. My aunt was 15, and already resigned to her fate of enduring a population boom of nieces and nephews. She sat up with me and read aloud Longfellow's <i>Song of Hiawatha</i>. Even during my stomach's most prolonged episodes of rejecting the popcorn, she continued to read without pausing midline. Only in retrospect, as the poem kept returning to me, did I come to appreciate its enduring quality. If one of your best memories involves throwing up into a bucket all night, you know the soundtrack must have been pretty good.<br />
<br />
<i>By the shores of Gitche Gumee, by the shining Big-Sea-Water,</i><br />
<i>Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, daughter of the moon, Nokomis </i><br />
<br />
Later I learned that for this epic narrative poem Longfellow used the meter of Elias Lonrott's <i>Kalevala</i>. Those Who Want To Get Technical call this <span class="st">trochaic tetrameter, but it's sometimes called </span>Kalevala meter or Kalevala verse, after its most famous example. You can feel the similarity even in the English translation:<br />
<br />
<i>Westward, westward sailed the hero</i><br />
<i>O'er the blue-back of the waters,</i><br />
<i>Singing as he left Wainola,</i><br />
<i>This his plaintive song and echo:</i><br />
<i>Suns may rise and set in Suomi,</i><br />
<i>Rise and set for generations,</i><br />
<i>When the North will learn my teachings,</i><br />
<i>Will recall my wisdom-sayings,</i><br />
<i>Hungry for true understanding.</i><br />
<i>Then will Suomi need my coming,</i><br />
<i>Watch for me at dawn of morning,</i><br />
<i>That I may bring back the Sampo,</i><br />
<i>Peace and plenty to the Northland.</i><br />
<br />
This is straight up oral narrative verse, recorded by Lonrott from interviews with Finnish folk singers and poetry reciters and plain old village people, and then arranged into one long work. Longfellow wanted to replicate this idea of a heroic narrative, but using traditional stories from the New World. I think the meter complements the substance of these narrative poems well. It gives an expansive, striding feel to the story, as though the listener is following the hero down a long and winding path. I am ever grateful that my introduction to this genre was through <i>hearing</i> it, not through <i>reading</i> it. These poems were meant to be read aloud, not unlike Homer's <i>Odyssey </i>(which is my main event this month; <i>The Waste Land</i> was supposed to be a supplement).<br />
<br />
Maybe I should stop reading <i>The Waste Land</i> and try reciting it.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-73347167557058801852012-04-08T12:52:00.000-07:002012-04-08T12:52:08.586-07:00In Which I Emerge VictoriousSince we last met, I continued working through my stack of short stories for the month of March. Next up were: <br />
<i>The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Body Snatchers and Markheim by R.L. Stevenson</i><br />
I liked all of these. <br />
<i>The Book of Tea by Kakuzo Okakura</i><br />
Not short stories, not even fiction, but languishing on my beside table. This one was interesting and will be reread in the future. <br />
<i>Shipley's Dictionary of Word Origins</i><br />
Don't ask. I probably spend a couple hours a month in this book. I have a strong desire to find out where words and phrases come from. This book has some interesting answers. <br />
<i>The Smith of Wooton Major by J.R.R. Tolkien</i><br />
I read this one aloud to some family members while on a road trip. Kids and adults both liked it. You don't have to be familiar with Tolkien's longer works to enjoy this. <br />
<i>Heart of Darkness and The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad</i><br />
YES! I met my past, made it my present, and allowed it to affect me and thus my future. <i>Heart of Darkness</i> was perfect in its structure and provocation of thought. I really should give it a separate blog entry so I won't go into it much now. It seems a shame that high schoolers are forced to endure it though; the issues that Conrad explores would have been vastly under-appreciated by my 17 yr old self (and I was no flighty teen). <br />
<br />
In celebration of this mental milestone, I went to the library and hauled home a bag of graphic novels. I think I read them all in 3 days. Unfortunately it was sort of like eating a case of Doritos in 3 days. I couldn't stop myself, but I felt a little woozy afterwards. Here's the list:<br />
<br />
<i>Ultimate Iron Man </i>by Orson Scott Card<br />
<i>The Time Machine</i> by H.G. Wells<br />
<i>Formic Wars: Burning Earth </i>by Orson Scott Card<br />
<i>The Night Bookmobile</i> by Audrey Niffenegger<br />
<i>The Tales of Alvin Maker: The Red Prophet volume 1 </i>by Orson Scott Card<i>Feynman</i> by Ottaviani & Myrick<br />
<br />
The last one in that list was a biography of physicist Richard Feynman. It was so fascinating that I got distracted from my short stories plan and spent all my free time for the next 3 days or so watching quantum physics talks online. Physics is a recurring amateur obsession that I return to every couple of years, spending a couple weeks compulsively watching college lectures and pop science vids online before moving on to something else.<br />
<br />
After the physics mental download I moved on to my volume of Edgar Allan Poe and read:<br />
<i>The Fall of the House of Usher </i>(my favorite)<br />
<i>The Tell-Tale Heart </i>(I had read this one and the next one previously. Still good though)<br />
<i>The Masque of the Red Death </i><br />
<i>The Balloon-Hoax </i>(Sort of Jules Verne-esque. May have inspired Verne's <i>80 Days</i>)<br />
<i>The Spectacles </i>(really funny)<br />
<i>The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether </i><br />
<i>The Murders in the Rue Morgue </i>(a little sinister, a little Holmes-ish. The first detective story!)<br />
<br />
Poe was a great way to end the month, and he is the author who wins a spot on my bookshelf. The other volumes were released into the wild (aka Goodwill) to be discovered anew by other readers. And if we're going to continue with the Hunger Games/gladiator metaphor, it seems fitting that Poe's book killed off the others. Though I didn't know it when I began reading Poe this month, I was about to have the opportunity to visit his home in Philadelphia. I was there a few days ago and had the privilege of gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door. It was a perfect ending to a perfectly dark and disjointed month.<br />
<br />
After all this Stevenson, Conrad, Poe and sci fi, I am feeling a little morbid. I'm not sure if April's selection will lift the doldrums or compound them. April will be spent reading Homer's <i>Odyssey</i> and, if I have time, a few other works inspired by <i>The Odyssey</i>: <i>The Wizard of Oz, Watership Down</i>, "Ulysses" by Alfred Lord Tennyson, and "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot. I'm also going to watch two <i>Odyssey</i> inspired films, <i>2001: A Space Odyssey, and Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?.</i>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-89405277316392700812012-03-08T21:33:00.003-08:002012-03-09T10:12:05.417-08:00The Ones That Got Away*cue melancholy violin solo*<br />
On those dark, winter evenings, when I sit alone in the twilight, memories come flooding back of books I once held fondly in my hand: books I intended to read, but which slipped from my grasp before I had the chance to waltz my fingers through their pages. Fate was against me and these books, the ones that got away.<br />
<br />
What, that never happened to you? Well what if it were even worse, and these books were literal baggage, being carted with you from attic to basement, state to state, country to country, every time you moved? These words on the screen cannot express the the nightmare of my experience when I tell you that I have been haunted by Joseph Conrad. For thirteen years.<br />
<br />
Yes, it's true. Like a carefree lass in a cautionary tale, I thoughtlessly picked up a paperback of <i>Heart of Darkness and The Secret Sharer</i> at a book sale, planning to read it "sometime soon", little knowing how this devil's deal would alter my future... You think I'm being melodramatic? I've been staring at a bad 1960's cover illustration of Charles Marlow FOR THIRTEEN YEARS. It's bad, people. Very bad. And it ends now.<br />
<br />
March's theme is modern short stories and novellas. This is a mixed bag of books that need to leave my home (did I mention that I'm downsizing my books? Fully 25% of them are on their way to new homes. Except for <i>Heart of Darkness</i>, that one can rot in book hell. Which would be what, an accordion store? A hot tub showroom? Spring break in Miami Beach?)<br />
<br />
Anyway. I've been at this for 8 days now, with a 3 day digression to read <i>The Hunger Games</i> series, because I wasn't disturbed enough already. Of course, I didn't start with <i>Heart of Darkness</i>. I'm working up to it with a bunch of other short stories/novellas that I don't have room for either. I'm going to read them all, and the best volume wins a spot on my shelf. The others are off to the accordion store, just in time for Polka Demo Tuesday. So I guess this is a Hunger Games for books, except they don't even have the decency to kill each other off. I always have to do everything myself around here.<br />
<br />
So far I've read the following:<br />
<br />
<i>-Jonathan Livingston Seagull</i>: It was alright. Not mindblowing for me, like the cover quotes would have you believe, but if you haven't thought about human potential before, then it could be revelatory.<br />
<br />
-"The Kreutzer Sonata" and "The Death of Ivan Ilych" by Tolstoy. I preferred "The Kreutzer Sonata", but I probably would have appreciated them both more if a) I had waited until I was in the mood to read Russian lit, but alas, time waits for no book and b) if my copy didn't smell so strongly like the basement of a thrift store. Next time I'll remember to pick up a linen copy hand-lettered by Milla Jovovich. (I know, she's Ukrainian.)<br />
<br />
-"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow", "Rip Van Winkle" and "The Devil and Tom Walker" by Washington Irving. I actually liked these a lot more than I thought I would, especially the last two. They had a dreamlike quality to them, and they were definitely early American, which stood out strongly in contrast to all the Brothers Grimm material I read last month.<br />
<br />
-"The Bottle Imp" by Robert Louis Stevenson. I liked it. A little bit suspenseful, definite folk-tale feel, surprise ending!<br />
<br />
Still on tap for this month are:<br />
<br />
"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", by Robert Louis Stevenson<br />
<i>Tortilla Flats</i>, a novella by John Steinbeck<br />
a volume of short stories by Edgar Allan Poe<br />
and of course, my nemesis, 3 ounces of yellowed paperback:<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Heart of Darkness</i> and <i>The Secret Sharer</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">by Joseph Conrad</span><br />
<br />
Okay, maybe a little melodramatic.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-49553421693755395672012-03-08T20:48:00.000-08:002012-03-08T20:48:19.859-08:00Wait, that was February?Yes, I am still alive, but fresh out of snappy intros. For some reason, all that comes to mind is, "Once upon a time..."<br />
<br />
I finished volume 1 of the Grimm Brothers' fairy tales. That was 100 stories: some well-known, some weird, some sinister, some trippy, some repetitive. I also finished the 2 volumes of fairy tale criticism I was working on, Jack Zipes' <i>Fairy Tale as Myth and Myth as Fairy Tale</i> and Maria von Franz's <i>The Interpretation of Fairy Tales</i>. The former author approached the genre from a Marxist/feminist socio-historical perspective, while the latter was working from the discipline of psychology. I swear, people who buy trippy herbs are wasting their money, because a similar psychedelic effect can be had by reading works of jarringly different perspectives one after another. Or, better yet, alternating chapters between the books late at night (lava lamp optional).<br />
<br />
Besides these books, which fit my theme of the month, I also read a couple others that had been languishing on my list forever:<br />
<i>Winter: A spiritual autobiography </i>(a collection of winter-themed poetry, essays and short stories. meh)<br />
<i>A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: text and criticism</i> (I read the text in December. I read the criticism in February. Basically a collection of reviews and critical essays. Pretty interesting, and offered a variety of perspectives)<br />
<br />
Was that really it? Five books? What did I do for the rest of the month? Oh, that's right, instead of spending my evenings parked on the couch with 200 pages of literary luxury, I spent half of them digging through boxes in the office, and the other half finishing projects unearthed from said office. But that's from the non-superhero part of my double life and, thus, not fodder for this blog. Well, except for the previous 2 sentences. And that last one. Okay, I'm stopping now.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-21160363901782590742012-02-05T16:40:00.001-08:002012-04-12T14:35:01.603-07:00The Labyrinth of the Film INCEPTION<a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>Besides reading books, I do watch films from time to time. Maybe it's a little unorthodox to write about one on a book blog, but there is a literary tie in, as you will see. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend watching it, and you should not read this post until you do so. You might want to watch it twice, because it's a little confusing at first. Let this serve as my SPOILER ALERT! <br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>Inception </i>retells the myth of the minotaur in the labyrinth, and discusses other themes as well. Here's a brief recap of the original legend:<br />
<br />
The labyrinth on Crete was built to house the Minotaur, a half-bull, half-man monster which was born as a result of King Minos's greed, greed which prevented him from sacrificing a particular white bull to Poseidon, as he had originally promised. From this bull and a woman was born the Minotaur, (<i>Mino </i>from Minos + <i>taur </i>from taurus, the Greek word for bull) a half-human monster that, as a living reminder of King Minos' greed, devoured human sacrifices. The hero Theseus comes from across the sea to enter the labyrinth and slay the Minotaur, but he faces the problem of being able to find his way back out of the labyrinth. The king's daughter, Ariadne, gives Theseus a ball of thread that he unravels on his way to the center of the labyrinth; after slaying the Minotaur he follows the string to find his way back out. <br />
<br />
In the film <i>Inception, </i>the protagonist, Cobb, is unable to come to terms with his wife's death and let her go. This results in the birth of a shadow figure of his dead wife, Mallorie, in his subconscious. The Jungian idea of a person's shadow, those aspects of the subconscious which haven't been integrated, is a nice parallel to the Minotaur, as a person's shadow can be seen as part human and part inner beast, untamed by the civilizing aspect of personal consciousness. Each time Cobb attempts to enter his subconscious, his plans are thwarted and his companions are attacked by this violent shadow, born of his inability to sacrifice/let go. In the film Cobb must go deeper, deeper into the layers of dream mazes in order to confront and slay the monster, his own inner demon which his desire-to-hold-onto (greed) has created. Or, in Jungian terms, he must descend into the depths of his subconscious in order to integrate his shadow, which he has personified as Mallorie. This is especially difficult for him because the shadow appears to him as his deceased wife. (One's shadow may be composed of sacrosanct symbols that the individual is loathe to disturb.) As Cobb sleeps and descends to the realm of pure subconscious, he washes up from the ocean onto the shore of the dream world his subconscious has constructed, like Theseus sailing across the sea and landing on the shores of Crete, ready to brave the labyrinth and slay the Minotaur. The character Ariadne, like the Ariadne in the myth, helps the hero navigate the labyrinth and emerge victorious. The totem which Cobb uses to ascertain whether he is awake or dreaming and to find his way out of a dream corresponds to the ball of thread, and slightly resembles a ball of thread as well. The fact that the top spins and the ball of string was spun from fiber is also a fun piece of wordplay. <br />
<br />
The film questions whether our motives are composed of the pure cause and effect that we ascribe to them, or whether they stem from a deeper will in the subconscious, perhaps one that another person or being has placed there. From whence come the ideas that take hold within us? We, our left brains, our<span id="goog_1084852804"></span> <span id="goog_1084852778"></span><span id="goog_1084852767"></span><span id="goog_1084852785"></span><span id="goog_1084852798"></span><a href="http://bigthink.com/ideas/41943" target="_blank">In<span id="goog_1084852771"></span><span id="goog_1084852772"></span>ter<span id="goog_1084852791"></span><span id="goog_1084852792"></span>p<span id="goog_1084852795"></span><span id="goog_1084852796"></span>re<span id="goog_1084852788"></span><span id="goog_1084852789"></span><span id="goog_1084852773"></span><span id="goog_1084852774"></span>ters</a>, invent causes that may or may not have brought about the effects. Tesla believed that humans are meat machines, mere stimulus and response, and if all possible factors could be known, all outcomes could be accurately predicted. Like him, Kant saw the cause and effect, the phenomenality of time and space. Schopenhauer, on the other hand, saw the will in nature, the one consciousness that wills all things. Einstein <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/02/science/02free.html?pagewanted=all" target="_blank">says it another way</a>, "A human can very well do what he wants, but cannot will what he wants." Ambiguity results when these two are integrated, as in Nietzsche's writings . For Nietzsche, the Apollonian individuating principle and the Dionysian energy of the will are balanced. Life eats life,and when ego dissolves and the dynamism of the will is experienced, rapture results. For Nietzsche, amor fati (the love of fate) is the goal. In other words, if you criticize one detail of your life, you've unraveled the whole thing (Joseph Campbell). This is depicted at the end of the film: from the time that Cobb and Saito awake on the plane, it is impossible to tell whether they are dreaming or not. At the end, when Cobb spins his totem but then walks away, the viewer sees that he has stopped analyzing and questioning his reality, and has instead chosen to live it. This is the equivalent of Theseus setting down the ball of yarn and walking away. The reality Cobb chooses to live is that which he desires most: life with his children. Cobb has accepted and internalized his fate, but interestingly, he may have chosen that very fate as well by choosing not to recognize and leave a dream world.<br />
The film's end is ambiguous. So... has he embraced his fate, a reality that he could not control, or has he willed his own reality? How do <i>you </i>perceive the ending? Which idea has taken root in <i>your own </i>mind? I think that question, the question of our own perception and not that of Cobb's, is one of the most interesting aspects of the film.<br />
The other point of interest for me is the concept of shared dreaming. Is it possible for a group of people enter into another's dream? Can we gather in darkness and watch the images and narratives that another has constructed? Surely film is this shared dream-state.<br />
<br />
p.s. Sometimes I, like Saito and Cobb, become lost in the labyrinth of my own thought world. Someday, you might have to send someone to bring me back. Or maybe I should just carry a ball of thread.<span id="goog_1084852775"></span><span id="goog_1084852776"></span><span id="goog_1084852780"></span><span id="goog_1084852781"></span><span id="goog_1084852793"></span><span id="goog_1084852794"></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-45809612884546284752012-02-05T16:13:00.000-08:002012-02-05T16:13:42.645-08:00January: Fairy TalesYes, I've had my eye on Hans Christian Andersen and the brothers Grimm for a while, so I spent January reading about ogres, princesses, talking animals and cruel parents, step- and otherwise. I have volume 1 of <i>The Complete Tales of the Brothers Grimm </i>(which is 2 volumes) and I made it about half way through that, meaning I read 50 of their 200+ tales. There were well-known ones and ones I'd never read before. Of course, these were the real deal, not the sanitized Disney versions. Cinderella's stepsisters cut off their toes and heels to make the shoe fit, birds peck out people's eyes and a young man visits hell and tricks the devil. My two favorites so far were <i>The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs</i>, which reminded me of <i>Jack and the Beanstalk</i> for some reason, even though it contained no beanstalk, no ogre, no magic treasure to steal. Then in reading up on the tales I was gratified to find that the Grimm brothers also categorized those two tales together, so I must have been making the right connections. Having recently read some Norse myths, it was also interesting to see some parallels in the Teutonic fairy tales, and in following my hunch I found online articles and blog entries discussing the similarities between Jack's beanstalk and the Germanic world tree Yggdrasil. It's been refreshing to switch to thinking about myths, after spending most of 2011 in the 19th century.<br />
<br />
I also read <i>The Owl, the Raven and the Dove: the religious meaning of the Grimms' magic fairy tales</i> by G. Ronald Murphy, which offered some interesting historical and cultural criticism. I started <i>The Interpretation of Fairy Tales</i> by Marie-Louise von Franz, but haven't finished it, and Jack Zipes' <i>Fairy Tale as Myth/Myth as Fairy Tale</i> is still on deck. The only Hans Christian Andersen tale I read so far is <i>The Little Mermaid</i>, which had a lot of interesting symbolism that I missed when reading it as a child, although I did read the original version and not the Disney one. So, since I'm enjoying this and I still have a lot that I haven't gotten to read yet, I'm going to extend the fairy tale theme through February, and then I'll be done; I promise! That is to say, even if I haven't finished reading all the tales available to me, I'll probably be ready for something else.<br />
<br />
Aaand...one of the reasons that I didn't finish the above mentioned books is that I read a bunch of other stuff as well: <i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Icons: Masterpieces of Russian Art</i> by Olga Polyakova<br />
<i>Tesla: Man out of time</i> by Margaret Cheney<br />
<i>Leviathan</i> by Scott Westerfeld<br />
<i>Behemoth</i> by Scott Westerfeld<br />
<i>Goliath</i> by Scott Westerfeld<br />
<i>Shadows in Flight</i> by Orson Scott Card<br />
<i>Look Homeward, America</i> by Bill Kauffman<br />
<i>The Complete Moomin Collection: volumes 1 and 6</i> by Tove Jansson<br />
<i>A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Criticism</i> edited by Chester G. Anderson<br />
<br />
Now that I've gotten all of those...ahem...pressing volumes out of the way, I'll have more time for Hans, Jacob and Wilhelm. Ooh la la.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-61649159722252552782012-02-05T15:45:00.000-08:002012-02-05T15:45:34.855-08:002012: The Big Reveal......and it's only a month late! I took stock of 2011, what worked and what didn't, and have made modifications for 2012. Here are my thoughts coming out of 2011:<br />
<br />
-The main problem with reading a novel a week is that it's just not sustainable long term. This was an entire year without a break. Ever. Even jobs usually give you time off once in a while. I'll be honest; it was really hard to keep on track all year. Some weeks were insane and I had to choose shorter books. During 2011, I traveled out of the country twice-once for a funeral and once to visit family, had eye surgery, worked at a farmers market and had a 2,000 sq. ft. garden in the summer, took care of my two kids, and had house guests for at least 11 weeks (I lost track). And every Sunday I said to myself, "What am I reading this week?" That's not going to happen this year. I am going to have some breathing room.<br />
<br />
-If I kept this up forever, I'd also never get to read long works like <i>War and Peace</i>, and would rarely have time to squeeze in short stories either.I would be limiting myself to one form (the novel), and only novels of a certain length.<br />
<br />
-Intellectually, I go on little jaunts where I obsess over a theme for a few weeks and then move on to a different one. This lends itself to reading thematically rather than structurally, which also brings me to my plan for 2012:<br />
<br />
THE THEME OF THE MONTH! <br />
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It sounds all gourmet, doesn't it? Like those clubs where you sign up and they send you a pound of coffee or chocolate or cheese or escargot (not really) each month. Yes, I know they have book of the month clubs, but I'm definitely going to be reading more than a book a month. I' will, however, read on a certain theme each month, and I'm only going to choose the theme at the beginning of each month. No long-term commitment here. Right now I might think that November will lend itself to all-Shakespeare-all-the-time, but when month #11 actually rolls around, I might be thinking Isaac Asimov. Or novels about jungles. Or short stories. Or Greek lit. Who knows. And I'm not going to put a quota on my reading either. One month (maybe July...aah..vacation) I might whip through 10 books, another might see me battle with one or two. Doesn't matter. I'll pick the theme and see how far I get. If the theme is somehow extra-awesome, I might be inspired to stick with it for another month. I'll probably end up reading some nonfiction and non-theme-related books too, which I may or may not blab about on here. So here's to 2012, which will be spent meandering through many categories.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-63124048773839143552012-01-30T07:20:00.000-08:002012-01-30T12:05:37.523-08:00Fourth Quarter in Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4iGD29cw_HLfz7JTvwPBXPyv21TZRouyHChTVLYqINAKHXSrf_Yr48o5xOj1MhKYwlgsQsUEMjwHGvK0lgZtGNvsXWmyRbQO4Tdm4dHQcQB6tieXBtqaKNsW7Yv1ueQMo2f4gKhofPn0/s1600/P1090470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4iGD29cw_HLfz7JTvwPBXPyv21TZRouyHChTVLYqINAKHXSrf_Yr48o5xOj1MhKYwlgsQsUEMjwHGvK0lgZtGNvsXWmyRbQO4Tdm4dHQcQB6tieXBtqaKNsW7Yv1ueQMo2f4gKhofPn0/s320/P1090470.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
From bottom to top, the books I read in the last three months were <i>Bleak House</i> by Charles Dickens, <i>The Prairie </i>by James Fenimore Cooper, <i>The Woman in White </i>by Wilkie Collins, <i>Persuasion </i>by Jane Austen, <i>A Hero of Our Time</i> by Mikhael Lermontov, <i>The Turn of the Screw</i> by Henry James, <i>Dead Souls</i> by Nikolai Gogol, <i>The Professor</i> by Charlotte Bronte, <i>Main Street</i> by Sinclair Lewis, <i>Notre Dame de Paris</i> by Victor Hugo, <i>The Pearl</i> by John Steinbeck, <i>Middlemarch</i> by George Eliot, and <i>Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man</i> by James Joyce. <br />
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The books that are turned around so you see the pages instead of the spine are stand-ins for books that I read on an e-reader and don't own a hard copy. This last quarter I relied most heavily on the e-reader, as I had finally read most of the books I already owned but hadn't read yet, and was moving on to books I wanted to read but didn't own. In the end, I really found that there are a lot of great books that I enjoyed reading, but will probably only reread once or twice in my life. It's not worth it for me to keep a book for years just because I might want to read it again someday, and these classic novels can be found in any library, or for free online since they're in the public domain.<br />
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Which brings me to the e-reader. I got an e-reader in June, and it was very handy when traveling and when reading really long books that would be heavy to hold for hours on end. However, because I'm a fast reader and the screen is fairly small, I have to turn the page (technically, refresh the screen) every 30 seconds or so, and this creates a short delay that jars me out of my mental reading zone every. single. time. Because of this, I found that I read a lot slower using an e-reader than I do using a book, so I still prefer reading a book when possible. That said, I do not regret my e-reader purchase at all. It's great for the purposes I mentioned above, and it's also more convenient to quickly load a new book onto it than to make a 30 minute round trip drive to the library.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-1377218573314458442012-01-29T20:21:00.000-08:002012-01-29T20:21:16.198-08:00A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James JoyceDecember 26th, 2011 dawned, as mornings tend to do...but this day was different. It was the first day of the last week of 2011, the day I would pick up my last novel of the year. It was exhilarating, yet a little sad, as I approached the end of an era (if I can pretentiously use the word "era" to describe a one-year-thing). I had chosen Joyce's <i>A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man</i>, which I found fitting for reasons I'll get to in a minute. It was a short book. After the previous week's monster, <i>Middlemarch</i>, it was going to be a piece of cake to whip through the 250-odd pages. So as the birds chirped merrily and the sun's rays shone upon the "December 26" page of my page-a-day calendar, I did not pick up the book. Instead, I ate leftovers and stayed in my pajamas, because I was on vacation. Sort of. This repeated itself for five days. It was like an acute but unexpected case of senioritis, where the finish line is so close that you expect momentum to carry you through. Of course, on December 30th I realized that this book wasn't going to read itself, and what was worse, I now had only 48 hours to perform the literary equivalent of chugging a $500 bottle of champagne. Sorry, Joyce. But I did it!<br />
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After reading most of the book on December 30th, I picked it up again the next day but got distracted when company arrived. Then I was making food and conversing wittily until I realized that it was 11:15 pm and I still had a couple of chapters left. I sat down to finish, cursing myself for my completely typical procrastination, but in the end, it worked out. I had the privilege of reading the last page at 11:45, ringing in the new year with one of the best lines ever written still fresh in my mind: "Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race." I really could not have planned a better way to end 2011.<br />
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I saved this book for the end in part because it is the coming of age story of a young artist. The main character, Stephen Dedalus, is a fictional version of Joyce. Through Stephen, we see Joyce's intellectual and artistic awakening. I wanted this book to close my year of 52 classic novels because, as the months went by, I saw that this year and all its accompanying blog posts have become a portrait of me as a young (-ish) artist. I look back on these posts and see my development as a reader, and I look through the notebook and computer files I've created this year and see my development as a writer. This isn't to say that I have now reached a particular stage and will remain static. Any portrait is only a partial portrait. But this is my partial portrait, and I'm pretty happy with it. A new year lies ahead of me, with a different reading strategy and new ideas to explore. When I look beyond 2012, I see the years before me like shining pearls on a string, waiting to drop one by one into my hand. And you, reader, have your own jewels to gather. Look around you. Greet your life with an open hand.<br />
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Happy New Year.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-77031875596521726492012-01-21T13:54:00.000-08:002012-01-21T13:54:04.741-08:00Middlemarch by George EliotI tried to read this novel for three months before actually managing to do it. I got it for my birthday in September, and I thought to myself, "Awesome! I'm going to read this next week!" Well, the next week shaped up to be hectic, and <i>Middlemarch</i> is over 700 pages, so I put it on deck for the following week and bumped up a shorter work from my list. The following week arrived, and the scenario repeated itself. <i>For six weeks.</i> I was starting to fear that <i>Middlemarch</i> was going to become some kind of literary nemesis, or the one that got away, and I would descend into madness like Captain Ahab, taking my family down with me in my struggle to FINALLY READ THIS BOOK!!!<br />
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Then the week before Christmas arrived. One group of company had just left, another was due to arrive in six days. Gifts were bought and wrapped; packages sent; cookies baked; house decorated; programs attended; functions contributed to; cards mailed; menus planned... it was the calm before the storm. I pulled out the giant book. I sat down. And I FINISHED IT! Well, not in one sitting, but in one week. After such a build up of anticipation, one might fear an anticlimactic letdown, a mental "meh..." during the epilogue. Fortunately we're talking about one of the greatest English novels of all time here.<br />
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I would describe <i>Middlemarch</i> as detailing a set of character portraits and the intricate web of relationships that grows between them. Some of the characters are initially misunderstood by other characters. After some time the mistaken character realizes (at least partly) the true nature of the other character. Some characters change and grow over time; others are fossilized and refuse to change. The work tracks a community over the course of time, and therefore its detail and length are necessary. In some ways, the first two thirds of the novel functioned as set up for the final third. Because of this I found it to have a slow start and to be more difficult to get into. Upon finishing it, I wasn't really sure how well I liked it, but after taking time to think it over, I appreciate it more. As the web of relationships grows between the characters, over time the book grows on the reader. <i>Middlemarch</i> is well-written, with a lot of social commentary and character development. Beyond that, I'm a little paralyzed about how to review it or what to say. After all, it's <i>Middlemarch</i>.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-34300958007641528652012-01-21T12:08:00.000-08:002012-01-21T12:08:07.383-08:00The Pearl by John Steinbeck<i>The Pearl</i> is Steinbeck's sixteenth published work, and the third that I read this year (following <i>The Grapes of Wrath</i> and <i>East of Eden</i>). It is based on an oral Mexican-Indian story he heard while traveling in the Gulf of California. It is a short work with a very folktale quality.<br />
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The protagonist, Kino, is a pearl diver who finds an immense and unusual pearl, which had been referred to in local legends as The Pearl of the World. He believes that the discovery of this pearl will bring happiness and prosperity to his family, but instead it brings tragedy. Technically, the pearl itself is neutral and has no effect on Kino, but the way other humans react to his discovery brings tragedy. The pearl symbolizes the American Dream, and Steinbeck is making the point that, while pursuit of the American Dream itself is neutral, our world makes it impossible for it to function as intended.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-28175743118327641012012-01-21T10:05:00.000-08:002012-01-21T10:05:38.770-08:00Notre Dame de Paris by Victor HugoGah! Yes, I am still alive. No, my fingers were not chewed off by fire ants, making it impossible to type. And this 7-yr-old laptop, although a triceratops among Arabian stallions, is still plodding along. There has been absolutely nothing standing between me and the blogosphere... except a series of houseguests interspersed with illnesses and various commitments which my duty-bound sense of knightly honor compelled me to fulfill. So, you know, there was some life I had to live. I do apologize for leaving with a cliffhanger, four weeks from the end of the year, my loyal readers waiting to discover whether I held up for the final month and fulfilled my new year's resolution! So here is the next installment, as the great saga of 2011 drew to a close...<br />
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The title <i>Notre Dame de Paris</i> is often translated as <i>The Hunchback of Notre Dame</i>, which I found to be unfortunately misleading. The book isn't entirely, or even primarily, about the hunchback Quasimodo, although he is an important character. The title refers to the cathedral of that name, around which the book revolves and in or near which all the major action takes place. I had previously read Victor Hugo's <i>Les Miserables</i>, so I went into this book expecting it to be historically focused, descriptive and detailed. It was. I did not realize, however, that <i>Notre Dame</i> was so intensely focused on architecture as an art form, the eventual decline of architecture due to the development of the printing press, and the architecture and evolution of the city of Paris itself. I found these sections of the book to be the most fascinating, and they enabled me to look at art, architecture and the growth of a city through new eyes. I would recommend the book for these sections alone.<br />
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The plot, which follows the unfortunate lives of several people who exist on the fringes of society, explores themes of fate and social conflict. The story arc of Quasimodo's affection for Esmeralda gives the book an additional tragic slant, and when combined with the tragedies of the decline of architecture and the cathedral and of the ill-fated lives of Esmeralda and Claude Frollo, the overall effect is sombre, dark and gothic, like the <i>Notre Dame </i>cathedral itself.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-32476991766762602052012-01-01T20:35:00.000-08:002012-01-01T20:35:35.076-08:00Main Street by Sinclair LewisSinclair Lewis' satirical novel is set in the fictional Gopher Prairie, Minnesota. The novel is very descriptive, and although coastal dwellers may find the descriptions of a small midwestern town amusing, I found it a little creepy to read a nearly exact description of the hamlet in North Dakota in which I spent much of my childhood. Lewis isn't lying. For better or for worse, this is small-town America. Now, as Lewis was writing satirically, he accurately skewered most of the negative aspects of living in a small town. I'm sure other writers have written on the positive aspects of small town culture, and for the sake of balance I should probably read one...but I won't do it anytime soon. I'm still enjoying shaking my head at Gopher Prairie.<br />
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The main character, Carol Kennicott, moves to Gopher Prairie, her husband's hometown, after her marriage. She struggles for years as a person whom the townspeople perceive as an outsider, although she wants to be considered an insider. I too moved to a small town and was mystified at the insistence many people had upon labeling me a newcomer. Even after two years of attending the small school, I was referred to as "the new girl". After two years of being the new girl, the prospects of ever being considered an insider were bleak. I can sympathize with Carol. Unlike Carol, however, I turned 18 and left. If I had been born into the place, had been accepted as one of the community from birth, I may have been happy to come back after college and make a life in that small town. In that way, I can understand the residents of Gopher Prairie and the residents of my own small town, and their enjoyment of their community. Unfortunately, their protective instincts toward their community are a double-edged sword, as they use those instincts to excuse their reticence to accept people who genuinely want to belong.<br />
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Oh, and last week I went to Minneapolis. I'll admit that I imagined the residents of Gopher Prairie, admiring the sleek Euro designs as they wandered through Ikea, or buying trendy clothes at the Mall of America just to impress their friends back home. And then I went back to my house, in a town that is not tiny, where people do not tell me that I don't belong.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-16162349743231073812012-01-01T19:42:00.000-08:002012-01-01T19:42:22.998-08:00The Professor by Charlotte Brontë<span style="font-family: inherit;">Charlotte <span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: center;">Brontë wrote <i>The Professor</i> before she wrote <i>Jane Eyre</i>, but it was published posthumously. I found the plot interesting and the characters enjoyable, while the entire work was much less intense and serious than <i>Jane Eyre</i>. After <i>Wuthering Heights</i> and <i>Jane Eyre</i>, <i>The Professor</i> revealed a lighter side to the </span></span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Brontë sisters. Although there were serious and occasionally tragic events, the ending allows the protagonists to find permanent happiness.</span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-40312062435373770062012-01-01T19:31:00.001-08:002012-01-01T19:31:41.258-08:00Dead Souls by Nikolai GogolI finished this book in mid-November, but I'm currently chipping away at a six week lag between time of reading a book and time of blogging about it. Unfortunately, because of this book's location in the murky recesses of the foggy prehistoric past of my memory...I may have forgotten some of my initial impressions.<br />
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</div><div><i>Dead Souls</i> ends abruptly, Gogol having destroyed part of it shortly before his death. The plot follows the anti-hero Chichikov as he tries to increase his social standing in a cynical and unorthodox way, meeting caricatures of Russian peasant characters along the way. Having read several other Russian authors this year, I would say that Gogol fits comfortably among his peers in terms of style, character development and choice of subjects. In other words, the book's pretty Russian. I read the Constance Garnett translation and enjoyed it, although the choppy ending left me wondering about Gogol's intentions. Was he planning to make more revisions to the work? Gogol is well-loved by Russians as one of their country's best writers, but after taking several weeks to digest this novel, I've come to the conclusion that I need to read some of his other works in order to appreciate him better. <i>Dead Souls</i> alone is not enough to evoke the appreciation that Dostoevsky (my current favorite Russian author) has gained from me.<br />
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</div></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-89781956836294775122012-01-01T19:31:00.000-08:002012-01-01T19:31:20.997-08:00The Turn of the Screw by Henry JamesI read this novel in early November, but it would have been great for Halloween. Because the author isn't completely explicit with details, he builds suspense and leaves the reader wondering about the exact nature of the ghost and its interaction with the children. I enjoyed <i>The Turn of the Screw</i> and <i>The Woman in White </i>for similar reasons, in part because they rely on suspense and ambiguity to keep the reader psychologically off balance. I recommend this book for readers who enjoy mystery and suspense, possibly even psychological horror.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-72461884323151046392011-11-19T20:58:00.000-08:002011-11-19T21:05:52.706-08:00A Hero of Our Time by Mikhail LermontovFour of the last nine novels I've read have been Russian, which is a record for me. Before September, my only foray into Russian lit had been two nonconsecutive weeks with Dostoevsky (<i><a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/03/crime-and-punishment.html">Crime and Punishment</a> </i>and <i><a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/07/brothers-karamazov.html">The Brothers Karamazov</a></i>). Lermontov has some similarities with other Russian authors, and the byronic hero is a common character. We see him in Pushkin's <i>Eugene Onegin</i>, again in Turgenev's <i>Fathers and Sons</i>, and now in <i>A Hero of Our Time's </i>main character, Pechorin. Lermontov was conscious of Byron's influence on his writing, and Byron is mentioned or alluded to several times in this novel. <i> </i><br />
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<i>A Hero of Our Time</i> sets itself apart from the other Russian novels I've read recently in part due to its incredible descriptions of the Caucasus and its people. There are around fifty languages spoken in the Caucasus, and it's not possible to generalize about one culture type or people group exemplified by the region. However, it's safe to say that the peoples of the Caucasus aren't Russian, either in their mother tongue or their culture, yet they were part of the Russian Empire. For Russia, the Caucasus represents both the self and the other, and an interesting discussion of the role of the Caucasus in Russian literature can be found <a href="http://www.rferl.org/content/literature_empire_scholar_susan_layton_discusses_russia_literary_caucasus/24389678.html">here</a>. <br />
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I wouldn't say there is a lot of in-depth character development in this novel, but the byronic hero is meant to be read as a type, not as a complex individual, and the author accomplishes what he sets out to do. I would recommend <i>A Hero of Our Time</i> as a softer introduction to Russian lit than Dostoevsky. Lermontov also captures the senses of romantic longing, appreciation for nature and inescapable ennui just as Pushkin does in <i>Eugene Onegin</i>, but with a more active plot. If you want to read about horses and samovars and Russian scenery, this is the book for you. On the other hand, if you want to read about thwarted characters or characters for whom life has lost its meaning...this is also the book for you. Finally, if you don't have a lot of time and you're looking for something under 300 pages but with more intellectual weight than a plot-based current bestseller, this is the book for you too! And if, upon finishing, you find yourself casting about for something even more deep, dark and delicious, well...there's always Dostoevsky.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-7360287252438791892011-11-13T20:46:00.000-08:002011-11-13T20:46:57.498-08:00Persuasion by Jane AustenThe fourth Austen novel I've read this year, <i>Persuasion</i> follows <a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/02/pride-and-prejudice.html"><i>Pride and Prejudice</i></a>, <a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/07/sense-and-sensibility.html"><i>Sense and Sensibility</i>, </a>and <i><a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/07/emma-by-jane-austen.html">Emma</a></i>. <i>Persuasion</i> was Austen's last novel, and her only one featuring a heroine who is far past her youth. The novel has great merit as a love story with social commentary, and while Austen's comedic sense is at times apparent, the overall effect is not as humorous as that of <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> or <i>Sense and Sensibility</i>. <br />
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Although I've heard critiques of Austen on the basis that she is a product of her time, the complaint is both obvious and disingenuous. Austen could no more write from the viewpoint of a postmodern feminist than I could write from a viewpoint that will be common in 2315 CE. I personally find it valuable to have access to works written from earlier viewpoints. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to understand history without authentic documents, which include letters, biographies, newspapers and, of course, works of fiction.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-85049180161491436712011-11-06T16:56:00.000-08:002011-11-06T16:56:00.542-08:00The Woman in White by Wilkie CollinsThis book will knock you out and leave you for dead in Mexico. Or at least, if you're rather flighty and nervous like me, it will keep you at the edge of your seat, with occasional heart palpitations. <i>The Woman in White</i>, written in 1859, is one of the first mystery novels and has earned its reputation as one of the best. I do have to say, at the risk of opening a can of feminism, that the plot is probably creepier to a woman reader, since it concerns the manipulation, threatening, drugging and forcible confinement of women by two plotting men. I'm sure a feminist critique would yield much about nineteenth century gender relations and power differentials. I'll get right on that...when I have a moment... Also interesting is a point brought up by Michael Chabon's essay "Fan Fictions: On Sherlock Holmes" in <i>Maps and Legends: Reading and Writing Along the Borderlands</i>, in which Chabon explores the changes in attitudes toward novel genres such as mysteries and science fiction. A hundred years ago, a novelist could write a mystery or science fiction novel and still be considered a serious writer of literature. This is not generally the case today. Chabon asks, if Conan Doyle had written <i>A Study in Scarlet</i> today, would it come to be considered a classic, or would it be buried in the "mysteries" corner at the bookstore, dismissed due to its genre label? That fate could have come to <i>The Woman in White</i> if it had been published a hundred years later. I'm glad it wasn't. But I plan to take a second look at the mystery or sci fi section in my library. Perhaps I will find an author who explores universal themes, or who writes incredible prose, or who makes characters come alive. Perhaps I'll find a book that shouldn't have been judged by its cover.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-74227676472999673702011-10-23T17:53:00.000-07:002011-10-23T17:53:30.007-07:00The Prairie by James Fenimore Cooper<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I know, I'm just a blogging fiend today. I've got to get all these books out of my head so I can think about the next ones. <i>The Prairie</i> is the third of Cooper's <i>Leatherstocking Tales</i> that I've read this year, the others being <a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/03/pioneers-sources-of-susquehanna.html"><i>The Pioneers</i> </a>and <a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/05/last-of-mohicans.html"><i>The Last of the Mohicans</i></a>. There are five <i>Leatherstocking Tales</i>, and I originally intended to read all of them this year, but I just don't know if I can do it. Now, <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i> was pretty good, and <i>The Pioneers </i>had some good parts, especially the end. (No, not <i>because</i> it was the end). <i>The Prairie </i>was my least favorite so far. Again, the ending was the best part. The novels seem to drag at various points, with plot and dialogue being uninteresting, but they always pick up at the end. That is Fenimore Cooper's greatest strength. After three novels' worth of Nathaniel Bumpo fighting Indians, protecting damsels and waxing eloquent about nature, I feel like I'm reading the same thing over and over. As an aside, Mark Twain wrote a satirical essay called <i>Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offences</i>, which I found quite humorous. He describes Fenimore Cooper's writing style more critically than I would think accurate, but it's eight pages of satire, it's funny, and it's free at Project Gutenberg. Check it out. Maybe check out Fenimore Cooper first, so you know what you're laughing at. </div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u><b>Stats:</b></u></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>Hero: </u>the trapper aka Hawkeye aka the Deerslayer aka Natty Bumpo aka Leatherstocking</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>Bad guys:<i> </i></u>the Tetons and some lawless white settlers</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>Good guys:</u> the Sioux and some nice white settlers</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>Two-dimensional plot devices</u>: the females (as Fenimore Cooper calls them)</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>There was a lot of</u>: tracking, shooting, spying, sneaking up, escaping, capturing</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>There should have been more</u>: plot. I really shouldn't have read Twain's essay before writing this entry. hee hee</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u>This book makes you want to</u>: fall asleep (help me, I can't stop myself)</div><u style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This book makes you glad you don't have to</u><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">: die alone in the wilderness without family, step on dry twigs an inopportune moments, read the last two books in the series, although I probably will anyway</span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-71086216087377560902011-10-23T17:10:00.000-07:002011-10-23T17:10:24.269-07:00Bleak House, by Charles Dickens<b>In which I make a gross miscalculation, and am saved by the power of public domain.</b><br />
<br />
I was at a book sale. I bought a volume entitled "Charles Dickens, The Complete Works, Bleak House, 1" I understood this to mean that <i>Bleak House</i> was the first novel in the set; maybe they were arranged alphabetically? Alas, no. When I reached the end of the volume, page 435, I was obviously nowhere near the end of the novel. None of the plotlines were near resolution. This was definitely <i>Bleak House</i> volume I of II. And to make matters worse, it was Sunday, and I was supposed to start reading my next book on Monday. Help! Hurray for the Gutenberg Project. I went online and downloaded a pdf of <i>Bleak House</i>, plowing through the rest of it on Sunday and Monday. Phew...<br />
<br />
This was the fourth Dickens novel I've read this year, the previous ones being <i><a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/03/great-expectations.html">Great Expectations</a>, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1699711964">Oliver Twist</a></i><a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/02/oliver-twist.html"> </a>and <a href="http://peculiarinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/05/hard-times.html"><i>Hard Times</i>. </a>In the past I have also read <i>A Tale of Two Cities</i> and <i>A Christmas Carol</i>. So many people have said that <i>Bleak House</i> is their favorite Dickens novel, that perhaps my expectations were too high. When I initially finished it, my opinion was lukewarm. Now, the plots were excellent, as were the characters. This book is full of people you will love to hate. The two parts I wasn't thrilled about are as follows. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD.<br />
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First, the character of John Jarndyce seemed one-dimensional. He was very important to the plot, but the reader doesn't really get to know him or sympathize with him. Because he is wealthy and benevolent, many of his actions have a deus ex machina appearance. When the other characters are in a bind, Jarndyce will help them out. I couldn't see much motive or internal conflict in him although, to be fair, the novel is like that in its treatment of the other characters too. I guess because he is a major character I wanted to see more of his internal life. Secondly, the death of Richard appears very Victorian and hysterical to me, a 21st century reader. He becomes mentally consumed by the court case and ends up contracting a fever and dying of consumption. I know the idea of people driving themselves to illness and death through emotional turmoil was more common then, but this particular scenario didn't satisfy me.<br />
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END SPOILERS<br />
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Now, don't let my two disappointments cause you to think that the book wasn't worth reading, or that I didn't enjoy it. I certainly liked it better than <i>Hard Times</i> (my least favorite by Dickens so far) or <i>Oliver Twist</i>. <i>A Tale of Two Cities </i>is my old favorite, but I haven't read it in so long that I don't think I can rightly compare it with these. At this point I'm not sure whether <i>Great Expectations</i> or <i>Bleak House</i> is my favorite, but after having read six of his works I definitely have a more multidimensional view of Dickens as an author. I know I've said this before, but I strongly recommend reading multiple works by a single author before formulating your opinion of him/her. If I had only read <i>Hard Times</i>, I would have a very different opinion of Dickens than if I had only read <i>Bleak House</i>.<i> </i><br />
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<u><b>Stats</b></u>:<br />
<u>Narrator, heroine</u>: Esther Summerson<br />
<u>Bored to death</u><u>:</u> Lady Dedlock<br />
<u>The wards of the state</u>: Ada and Richard<br />
<u>Telescopic philanthropist</u><u>:</u> Mrs. Jellyby<br />
<u>Fool you love to hate</u>: Harold Skimpole<br />
<u>Prototypical detective</u>: Inspector Bucket<br />
<u>Benevolent guardian:</u> John Jarndyce<br />
<u>Sleazy lawyer:</u> Mr. Tulkinghorn<br />
<u>Funny fop:</u> William Guppy<br />
<u>Unfortunate victim of spontaneous combustion:</u> Krook<br />
<u>There but for the grace of God goes Oliver Twist:</u> Jo<br />
<u>There was a lot of</u>: lawyerly ridiculosity, letters, meetings, dialogue<br />
<u>There should have been more:</u> plum puddings. just kidding.<br />
<u>This book makes you want to</u>: mind your own business, clean out your closets, avoid lawyers<br />
<u>This book makes you glad you don't have to</u>: sue anybody if you don't want to, be illiterateKarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-40239066509881549352011-10-23T16:11:00.000-07:002011-10-23T16:11:13.719-07:00Third Quarter in Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpltv-mkJ3KVZwfPX9PqMhykZTCoopXHkHBd84DYt4nQsBKMzSxWZVvs2L3Zu80zjYPYc9fEC-sWA9vsOJSLR7GjaDu-E0LQ4BnuTrGnIVUwMY7kVQa7BMligQHT07xkUnXDH4k5cAgU17/s1600/P1080862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpltv-mkJ3KVZwfPX9PqMhykZTCoopXHkHBd84DYt4nQsBKMzSxWZVvs2L3Zu80zjYPYc9fEC-sWA9vsOJSLR7GjaDu-E0LQ4BnuTrGnIVUwMY7kVQa7BMligQHT07xkUnXDH4k5cAgU17/s320/P1080862.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">From top to bottom, my third quarter of 2011 consisted of: <i>The Hound of the Baskervilles, Emma, The Brothers Karamazov, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Little Women, East of Eden, Lady Chatterley's Lover, The Return of the Native, Around the World in Eighty Days, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch, Fathers and Sons, Eugene Onegin, On the Road.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm 75% of the way to my goal! Not quite ready to start walking around with a sign that says, "the end is nigh"...better get through another 10 books first.</div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-68110973828110833602011-10-23T13:40:00.000-07:002011-11-13T19:02:11.379-08:00On the Road by Jack Kerouac<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">After three Russian novels, I was looking for something different. Enter Kerouac. I got this book for a dollar at the farmer's market. After three weeks of watching youthful Slavs visit the picturesque countryside, only to slowly waste away under a grim fog of sourceless Russian ennui, I caught a ride with young Kerouac as he hitchhiked across the country, stayed with friends in rundown apartments and generally experienced life, liberty and the pursuit of consciousness, <strike>occasionally</strike> frequently with chemical assistance. This book is truly iconic in its description of the Beat generation, and only slightly disturbing was my discovery that Jack Kerouac's altered states of consciousness weren't all that different from my usual states of consciousness. </div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For example:</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> "For just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn't in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds...I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water."</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I can dig that. Even without benzedrine. But Kerouac insisted that his novel detailed not a drug spree but a religious journey. In his words, it "was really a story about two Catholic buddies roaming the country in search of God. And we found him. I found him in the sky, in Market Street San Francisco (those 2 visions), and Dean (Neal) had God sweating out of his forehead all the way. THERE IS NO OTHER WAY OUT FOR THE HOLY MAN: HE MUST SWEAT FOR GOD. And once he has found Him, the Godhood of God is forever established and really must not be spoken about." </div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I know what you mean, Jack. There's a certain threshold that, when you cross it, you leave the world of words behind, and what is beyond there can't really be spoken about. It can't be brought back into the land of speech, incarnated into a body of grammar, without being torn apart as it enters the dimension of duality. So it stays out there, and when you try to talk about it part of your mind has to go out there to think about it, and then the person you're talking to realizes that you're not all here, and they're right. You're not. But it's not the benzedrine talking, it's the beatific vision. I've been there too, Jack, just over the threshold, at the place where Beat was born.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><u><b>Related explanatory </b></u><u><b>facts</b></u>: Kerouac wrote the novel in three weeks, typing continuously onto a 120-foot roll of teletype paper. This led to Truman Capote's well-known zinger, "That's not writing, that's typing". </div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Beat Generation is often seen as a space-holder between WWII and the turbulent sixties, but without the Beats, the sixties as we know them would not have happened. The Beats influenced Jim Morrison, Bob Dylan and, of course, the Beatles. They demystified drug use, explored multiple spiritual traditions, fought censorship, pursued ecological viewpoints, opposed the military-industrial complex and appreciated idiosyncrasy over conformity. "Nobody knows whether we were catalysts or invented something, or just the froth riding on a wave of its own. We were all three, I suppose." - Allen Ginsberg </div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Kerouac himself describes Beat a</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">s "</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial,Helvetica; font-size: small;">(being) watchful, catlike, inquisitive...in the street but not of it. ...It's a sort of furtiveness, like we were a generation of furtives. You know, with an inner knowledge there's no use flaunting on that level, the level of the "public,"a kind of beatness-I mean, being right down to it, to ourselves-and a weariness with all the forms, all the conventions of the world... we're a beat generation." Kerouac saw his generation as the beatific generation; the generation that would see God, but in the end his vision was a hopeful projection onto his generation, and did not manifest in reality.</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beat_Generation#cite_note-62"><br />
</a>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-73358375928227035612011-10-02T19:50:00.000-07:002011-10-02T19:52:44.116-07:00Eugene OneginFirst of all, it's pronounced oh-NEG-in, not ON-again. Now that we've gotten that out of the way...<br />
<br />
Pushkin, the great Russian romantic poet, wrote his novel <i>Eugene Onegin</i> completely in verse. I like poetry although I don't know much about its different styles and eras, and I enjoyed this novel's plot, themes and meter. This week marked three Russian novels in a row for me, and they were all extremely different from each other.<br />
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Throughout the novel Pushkin mentions, and sometimes satirizes, current events that weren't familiar to me, but the end notes explained these references. Make sure you read an edition with explanatory notes; I used the Oxford World Classics edition that I paid 80 cents for in a clearance section. Clearly, Iowans aren't stampeding to read Pushkin...but they should be!<br />
<br />
SPOILERS AHEAD!<br />
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The title character, Eugene Onegin, is a bored dandy who has constructed himself out of current social conventions, specifically, the Byronic anti-hero popular at the time. He moves to the country and befriends his neighbor Lensky, a romantic poet. Lensky falls in love with Olga, and Olga's sister Tatyana loves Onegin but he doesn't return her love. Eventually the two friends quarrel, and then duel, with a tragic outcome. Onegin and Tatyana meet again years later in Moscow; this time he loves her but she is married to a Russian aristocrat and rejects him.<br />
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Tatyana is a personification of Russia. Her personality, likes, dislikes, even her childhood home in the country are carefully chosen as the embodiment of Russia. She is initially attracted by Western social customs and institutions, but she eventually chooses the dignity and stability of Russian ways. Onegin is a character of no real substance; he is a mere social construct. As such, his tragedy is to live in loneliness, unable to participate in a real relationship. Sadly and ironically, Pushkin himself was killed in a duel, a victim of his own internalization of social conventions.<br />
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<u><b>Stats:</b></u><br />
<u>Eponymous anti-hero:</u> Onegin<br />
<u>Romantic poet, a younger version of Pushkin:</u> Lensky<br />
<u>Quintessentially Russian heroine:</u> Tatyana (she is likely the heroine in Russian lit most beloved by Russians)<br />
<u>There was a lot of</u>: character thoughts, satirical asides, parties, traveling<br />
<u>There should have been more:</u> food. I know; I'm predictable.<br />
<u>This book makes you want to</u>: analyze your motives and the conventions you have accepted<br />
<u>This book makes you glad you don't have to</u>: shoot somebody simply because they demand satisfaction.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2675680158791025328.post-65542179824432914282011-10-02T16:43:00.000-07:002011-10-02T16:43:37.060-07:00Fathers and Sons<i>Fathers and Sons</i>, by Ivan Turgenev, may be the first modern Russian novel (the other contender being Gogol's <i>Dead Souls</i>, also on my list for 2011). Published in 1862, Turgenev's work focuses on the conflict between the liberalism of the 1830s/1840s and the nihilism of the next generation. In Russian, the title is <i>Fathers and Children</i>, but was translated as <i>Fathers and Sons</i> because the translators thought it sounded more lyrical and titular.<br />
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The book follows two young men and their fathers, contrasting the ideals of the younger generation with those of their elders, but also contrasting one father/son relationship with the other. Intergenerational conflict was nothing new even then, as the two aging fathers drily observe that they once rolled their eyes at their own parents' backward ideas as well. However, the marked contrast between the attitudes of the two young men demonstrates that one doesn't have to reject relationships with friends and family who hold different philosophical ideals than one does. Bazarov drives his family and friends away because he finds their liberal bourgeois ideas inferior to nihilism. Arkady, on the other hand, treats his father and uncle with respect and affection, enjoying their companionship despite their philosophical differences. In the end, Arkady embraces life while Bazarov indifferently wastes away, although, because it wasn't clear to me to what extent Arkady modified his nihilistic beliefs, I can't say how much of his eventual fulfillment was due to his relationships and how much was due to his (possible) rejection of nihilism. <br />
<br />
Turgenev definitely has a different style of writing than either Dostoevsky or Solzhenitsyn, the other two Russians I have read this year. Dostoevsky was a Slavophile and Turgenev was a Westernizer, so the two disagreed through most of their lifetimes but eventually reached reconciliation after Dostoevsky's Pushkin speech. Dosteovsky's style is much more psychological, while Turgenev is more socially oriented.<br />
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More fun facts: Turgenev and Tolstoy were close friends, and Turgenev also influenced writers of the next generation such as Henry James and Joseph Conrad. He is ranked among the top nineteenth century Russian prose writers, along with Tolstoy, Gogol, Chekov and Dostoevsky. <i>Fathers and Sons</i> was an interesting book, touching on important themes such as transgression and redemption through love. Although Turgenev was a Westernizer, advocating social reform, the abolition of serfdom and the integration of Enlightenment ideals into Russian culture, in this work he appears nearly Slavophilic in his portrayal of Arkady's fulfillment through returning to his father's way of life. I say <i>nearly</i> Slavophilic because he doesn't depict religion as an important element at all, whereas for Slavophiles it is a central part of the equation.<br />
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<u><b>Stats:</b></u><br />
<u>Just because you're a nihilist, doesn't mean you have to be a jerk</u>: Arkady<br />
<u>Or wait, maybe it does:</u> Bazarov<br />
<u>Uncle, your cravat is stylish but your ideals are not:</u> Pavel<br />
<u>Dad, seriously, you're embarrassing me in front of my friends:</u> Nikolai<br />
<u>Eventually overcame class differences:</u> Nikolai and Fenichka<br />
<u>Kind old fossils who deserved a better son</u>: Vasily Bazarov and Arina Bazarova<br />
<u>Who invited him?</u> Sitnikov<br />
<u>There was a lot of:</u> discussing, disagreeing, traveling, condescending<br />
<u>This book makes you want to:</u> take time to discuss things with friends. These guys were quite productive in their philosophical explorations. It probably helped that they didn't have cell phones, tvs or the internet to distract them.<br />
<u>This book makes you glad you don't have to</u>: Stringently live according to your class' particular responsibility, travel long distances on a dirt road in a wagon with no shocks.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15496820946383183817noreply@blogger.com0