6. Middlesex by Jeffery Eugenides (4/26/2011 - 5/9/2011)
I started reading this book mainly because of how much I enjoyed Eugenides' previous novel The Virgin Suicides. That book, which is narrated collectively by a group of boys in the neighborhood, was stunning in its conception and both elegant and heartbreaking in its delivery. There are certainly times when I feel like I should read it again to fully absorb its meanings, and perhaps I will. But that book is what drew me to this book, and though the subject matter was rather unusual, ultimately I really enjoyed it.
The actual plot of the novel only takes place in about ... maybe 100 pages, but the book itself is almost 600 pages long. Some sections, such as Cal's father's tour in the military or Desdemona (the main character's grandmother) and her escapades working for a church or the race riots in Detroit, are very detailed and not really necessary for the plot of the story and so feel rather drawn out -- it's not that they weren't interesting, they were just long. Other background for the main plot -- which comprises most of the rest of the book -- is fascinating in a conspiratorial and almost taboo way. I as the reader know the secrets of Cal's family before she does and so I see the twists coming. Of course, the main 'twist' of the novel (that Cal is a hermaphrodite) is revealed on the back cover. It's not even a twist, not in the traditional sense. But the novel does have twists, and well-written ones at that. Even though I knew what one character would reveal to Cal near the end of the novel, I was still surprised -- Eugenides' writing is wonderful like that.
I would certainly recommend this book, but it may not be my first choice for all readers. Some may really enjoy it, others may feel very uncomfortable, and others may experience this work as a mixture of both fascination and near-horror. I won't hide it: It's an uncomfortable book. The subject matter is very mature and sometimes the events are shocking or just frankly disgusting. Anyone who struggles with the concept of homosexuality, for whatever reason, would likely find issues with this book. But there is a peace to the novel, especially the last few chapters, that is remarkable, and that peace is part of what draws me to love this book.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
5. Foundation
5. Foundation by Isaac Asimov (4/20/2011-4/25/2011)
This book, the first in the Foundation trilogy, is often cited as the cornerstone for the rest of science-fiction literature. While I've read very little Asimov in the past (though I plan to read more now), I have to say that I immediately saw connections to the other science-fiction I've read or watched. I was even granted insight into one of my favorite sci-fi series, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The correlation between the Encyclopedists and those, like Ford Prefect, who work at the Guide is striking and extremely enjoyable. I would recommend that series to anyone out there.
Foundation was an unusual read for me. I had no idea what to expect since I've never read an Asimov novel, and it turned out to be quite unlike anything I've encountered before. The prose is a little stand-off-ish; I don't feel a strong connection with many of the main characters even though I do still like them and enjoyed reading about them. This is a big change from Asimov's non-fiction essays, which are engaging and even hilarious at times. It was like reading two different authors, except that he deals almost exclusively with technology at all times in any work.
The book itself is set up in an unconventional way -- every few chapters, the story suddenly jumps forward any number of years without a lot of contextual clues to help the reader figure out what just happened. In some cases, the major actions of the plot actually take place off-page; there are a number of crises that occur, but the most important things - -such as the outcome of said crises -- are often left unresolved for the reader until the next chapter (which could be any number of years in the future). So: overall, Foundation is a very interesting book and I'm definitely left wanting to know what happens next. But reading it is a bit of a challenge. If someone had suggested that I make sure to be able to focus on just the text, I would likely have had an easier time with it.
This book, the first in the Foundation trilogy, is often cited as the cornerstone for the rest of science-fiction literature. While I've read very little Asimov in the past (though I plan to read more now), I have to say that I immediately saw connections to the other science-fiction I've read or watched. I was even granted insight into one of my favorite sci-fi series, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The correlation between the Encyclopedists and those, like Ford Prefect, who work at the Guide is striking and extremely enjoyable. I would recommend that series to anyone out there.
Foundation was an unusual read for me. I had no idea what to expect since I've never read an Asimov novel, and it turned out to be quite unlike anything I've encountered before. The prose is a little stand-off-ish; I don't feel a strong connection with many of the main characters even though I do still like them and enjoyed reading about them. This is a big change from Asimov's non-fiction essays, which are engaging and even hilarious at times. It was like reading two different authors, except that he deals almost exclusively with technology at all times in any work.
The book itself is set up in an unconventional way -- every few chapters, the story suddenly jumps forward any number of years without a lot of contextual clues to help the reader figure out what just happened. In some cases, the major actions of the plot actually take place off-page; there are a number of crises that occur, but the most important things - -such as the outcome of said crises -- are often left unresolved for the reader until the next chapter (which could be any number of years in the future). So: overall, Foundation is a very interesting book and I'm definitely left wanting to know what happens next. But reading it is a bit of a challenge. If someone had suggested that I make sure to be able to focus on just the text, I would likely have had an easier time with it.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
4. Magical Thinking
4. Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs (4/18/2011 - 4/19/2011)
One or two chapters into this book, I decided that Augusten Burroughs was a second-rate David Sedaris. I don't think it's Burroughs' fault -- if I'd read him first (and read something comical rather than his memoir Running With Scissors, which sounds rather depressing), I'd have probably liked him better and then I'd be writing that David Sedaris was a second-rate Augusten Burroughs. But alas, time travel is not possible and so here I am, having read this long after I was first introduced to Sedaris.
However, maybe 2/3s of the way through the book, Burroughs starts writing about his partner Dennis, and every essay after that is transformed by his partner's presence in his life -- and transformed in a very positive way. One thing I have always disliked about reading Sedaris and that I discovered about reading Burroughs is that they both kinda come off like dicks, like if I knew them personally, I wouldn't want to be friends with either. Sedaris, I've noticed, is especially bad about this after he begins writing about his partner. But Burroughs does not -- in fact, the more I read about his and Dennis's life, the more I like him. It's not that he seems more real or anything; it just seems like he has a heart. And unlike (and so much better than) Sedaris, Burroughs' statements about the love of his life connect so well with my own thoughts about my fiancée. He writes about how, when you truly love someone, cutting that relationship off stops being an option and so you do everything within this semi-protected circle of love. When you fight, you fight with the understanding that it's not going to break you up. When you think of your partner's flaws, you love them more because they have flaws. You think about how you'd rather your partner die first, so they don't have to be alone (which is both selfish and altruistic - a crowning characteristic of true love). And so on.
In reading this, I found that I respected Burroughs for the ability to actually say these things, and say them well. I've read almost all of David Sedaris' books, and throughout them, I'm not sure I've ever encountered him saying the words "love" and "Hugh (his partner)" in the same sentence, or even in the same essay. So now, after finishing this book, I have taken back my first impression (which is a rare thing, both for me and for psychological functioning in general). Augusten Burroughs is not a second-rate Sedaris. He is entirely his own, and in many ways goes above and beyond those writers that refuse to write about the people they love with any honesty or reality. I appreciate him more for that quality than for all of his best-selling books or movies or anything else, because that's what I value in good writing.
One or two chapters into this book, I decided that Augusten Burroughs was a second-rate David Sedaris. I don't think it's Burroughs' fault -- if I'd read him first (and read something comical rather than his memoir Running With Scissors, which sounds rather depressing), I'd have probably liked him better and then I'd be writing that David Sedaris was a second-rate Augusten Burroughs. But alas, time travel is not possible and so here I am, having read this long after I was first introduced to Sedaris.
However, maybe 2/3s of the way through the book, Burroughs starts writing about his partner Dennis, and every essay after that is transformed by his partner's presence in his life -- and transformed in a very positive way. One thing I have always disliked about reading Sedaris and that I discovered about reading Burroughs is that they both kinda come off like dicks, like if I knew them personally, I wouldn't want to be friends with either. Sedaris, I've noticed, is especially bad about this after he begins writing about his partner. But Burroughs does not -- in fact, the more I read about his and Dennis's life, the more I like him. It's not that he seems more real or anything; it just seems like he has a heart. And unlike (and so much better than) Sedaris, Burroughs' statements about the love of his life connect so well with my own thoughts about my fiancée. He writes about how, when you truly love someone, cutting that relationship off stops being an option and so you do everything within this semi-protected circle of love. When you fight, you fight with the understanding that it's not going to break you up. When you think of your partner's flaws, you love them more because they have flaws. You think about how you'd rather your partner die first, so they don't have to be alone (which is both selfish and altruistic - a crowning characteristic of true love). And so on.
In reading this, I found that I respected Burroughs for the ability to actually say these things, and say them well. I've read almost all of David Sedaris' books, and throughout them, I'm not sure I've ever encountered him saying the words "love" and "Hugh (his partner)" in the same sentence, or even in the same essay. So now, after finishing this book, I have taken back my first impression (which is a rare thing, both for me and for psychological functioning in general). Augusten Burroughs is not a second-rate Sedaris. He is entirely his own, and in many ways goes above and beyond those writers that refuse to write about the people they love with any honesty or reality. I appreciate him more for that quality than for all of his best-selling books or movies or anything else, because that's what I value in good writing.
3. The English Patient
3. The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje (4/7/2011 - 4/18/2011)
While a little dense and not always particularly interesting, The English Patient wasn't a bad book. Some chapters were fascinating, as the burned-beyond-recognition English patient tried to recount his past and Hana and Kip developed their relationship. But others were just too long; there is only so much about sandstorm-types and torture and de-arming bombs I can read before I start to get bored.
The blurb on the back of the book said that the English patient's "memories of suffering, rescue, and betrayal illuminate this book like flashes of heat lightning." I found the opposite to be true -- the more I read, the more I looked forward to learning about Hana's life, to watching Kip fall in love, to quietly observe as Hana, Caravaggio, and Kip lived their lives in this abandoned Italian villa. The English patient was an ever-present persona for me, much like he is for the characters of the novel, but I couldn't focus on him. It's not his fault, I suppose, but his plight simply did not move me the way the rest of the novel did. I think that's why this book took me so long to finish -- I wasn't compelled to open it constantly the way I have been with other books.
The ending may have been the best part of the book. It's set in the last year of World War II, and the final chapter shows the four of them receiving the news of the nuclear bomb being dropped on Japan. The sudden rift that this creates in their group is amazing, and I wonder if perhaps that's what it would have really been like to be alive to witness the bombs being dropped -- if people turned on each other, if the news ripped apart relationships and families, if life was truly never the same afterwards in ways that I as a child born in the eighties and raised in the nineties can never truly understand.
Both of my grandfathers were in World War II, but they are gone -- one passed almost ten years ago and the other is dying and doesn't know who I am thanks to Alzheimer's. My grandmothers are still alive, and I can always ask them what those days were like, but it's not the same. I miss my grandfathers, and now, suddenly, I regret being a child with them, regret not being older (though there's nothing I can do about that) and able/willing to talk to them about their lives as soldiers. I will never get that opportunity now.
One quote from the English patient's narrative of his life in the desert stood out to me:
"A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing -- not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past."
While a little dense and not always particularly interesting, The English Patient wasn't a bad book. Some chapters were fascinating, as the burned-beyond-recognition English patient tried to recount his past and Hana and Kip developed their relationship. But others were just too long; there is only so much about sandstorm-types and torture and de-arming bombs I can read before I start to get bored.
The blurb on the back of the book said that the English patient's "memories of suffering, rescue, and betrayal illuminate this book like flashes of heat lightning." I found the opposite to be true -- the more I read, the more I looked forward to learning about Hana's life, to watching Kip fall in love, to quietly observe as Hana, Caravaggio, and Kip lived their lives in this abandoned Italian villa. The English patient was an ever-present persona for me, much like he is for the characters of the novel, but I couldn't focus on him. It's not his fault, I suppose, but his plight simply did not move me the way the rest of the novel did. I think that's why this book took me so long to finish -- I wasn't compelled to open it constantly the way I have been with other books.
The ending may have been the best part of the book. It's set in the last year of World War II, and the final chapter shows the four of them receiving the news of the nuclear bomb being dropped on Japan. The sudden rift that this creates in their group is amazing, and I wonder if perhaps that's what it would have really been like to be alive to witness the bombs being dropped -- if people turned on each other, if the news ripped apart relationships and families, if life was truly never the same afterwards in ways that I as a child born in the eighties and raised in the nineties can never truly understand.
Both of my grandfathers were in World War II, but they are gone -- one passed almost ten years ago and the other is dying and doesn't know who I am thanks to Alzheimer's. My grandmothers are still alive, and I can always ask them what those days were like, but it's not the same. I miss my grandfathers, and now, suddenly, I regret being a child with them, regret not being older (though there's nothing I can do about that) and able/willing to talk to them about their lives as soldiers. I will never get that opportunity now.
One quote from the English patient's narrative of his life in the desert stood out to me:
"A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing -- not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past."
Monday, April 18, 2011
2. I'll Mature When I'm Dead
2. I'll Mature When I'm Dead by Dave Barry (4/5/2011 - 4/7/2011)
Dave Barry has always been one of my favorite authors, and I suspect that he always will. I have read just about all of his previous books, loving every one, and I was so excited to finally read his latest book (and one of his first since retiring from newspaper journalism). I was not disappointed :)
This book is hysterical from start to finish. Highlights include: a "guide" to dog ownership, a spoof of TV's 24, and a funny and surprisingly touching essay about watching his son get married. Barry is always an easy read -- his prose is good but not particularly deep -- but beware of reading this book around other people! I was reading it in a lobby on campus that had maybe 2 other people in it and kept getting stares and weird looks because I was trying to stifle snorts of laughter or just straight-up laughing uncontrollably.
There's a quote on the cover of one of Barry's other books (I think it's Dave Barry is Not Taking This Sitting Down) from the New York Times, which says "Reading Barry with another person in the room invariably elicits one of two responses: 'What are you reading?' or 'For God's sake, shut up!'" This still rings true for me every time I open one of Dave Barry's books. I can only hope he writes more!
Dave Barry has always been one of my favorite authors, and I suspect that he always will. I have read just about all of his previous books, loving every one, and I was so excited to finally read his latest book (and one of his first since retiring from newspaper journalism). I was not disappointed :)
This book is hysterical from start to finish. Highlights include: a "guide" to dog ownership, a spoof of TV's 24, and a funny and surprisingly touching essay about watching his son get married. Barry is always an easy read -- his prose is good but not particularly deep -- but beware of reading this book around other people! I was reading it in a lobby on campus that had maybe 2 other people in it and kept getting stares and weird looks because I was trying to stifle snorts of laughter or just straight-up laughing uncontrollably.
There's a quote on the cover of one of Barry's other books (I think it's Dave Barry is Not Taking This Sitting Down) from the New York Times, which says "Reading Barry with another person in the room invariably elicits one of two responses: 'What are you reading?' or 'For God's sake, shut up!'" This still rings true for me every time I open one of Dave Barry's books. I can only hope he writes more!
1. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
1. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon (4/2/2011 - 4/5/2011)
To my surprise, I really enjoyed this book.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is a first-person narrative of what it's like to have autism. I know a little about autism in general through some volunteer positions and Special Education readings, and from my understanding, it can be incredibly difficult for both the person with it and the people around him/her. I wasn't sure what to expect from a book dealing primarily with this disorder, but I found that the main character Christopher is really quite endearing and that, from his perspective, autism almost makes sense. Haddon has done such amazing job of capturing what goes on in Christopher's mind that I can understand his thought processes, understand why he hates yellow and can't have people touching him and why groaning and white noise make him feel a little safer. I have to wonder if perhaps every person considering going into Special Education should read this book.
Along that same line, I wonder if perhaps every person considering being a parent should read this book as well. Christopher's relationships with his parents are major focal points within the novel, and those relationships are both complicated immensely by the fact that Christopher has autism. I can't go much more in depth without giving away some plot twists of the novel, but overall it makes me nervous to have children. I identify so much with the mother in the novel before I factor in that she has a child with autism that I worry about what would happen to me if I someday have a child with autism. I don't honestly know what I would do.
But despite this overwhelming idea, I enjoyed the novel. Read it. It's worth it.
To my surprise, I really enjoyed this book.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is a first-person narrative of what it's like to have autism. I know a little about autism in general through some volunteer positions and Special Education readings, and from my understanding, it can be incredibly difficult for both the person with it and the people around him/her. I wasn't sure what to expect from a book dealing primarily with this disorder, but I found that the main character Christopher is really quite endearing and that, from his perspective, autism almost makes sense. Haddon has done such amazing job of capturing what goes on in Christopher's mind that I can understand his thought processes, understand why he hates yellow and can't have people touching him and why groaning and white noise make him feel a little safer. I have to wonder if perhaps every person considering going into Special Education should read this book.
Along that same line, I wonder if perhaps every person considering being a parent should read this book as well. Christopher's relationships with his parents are major focal points within the novel, and those relationships are both complicated immensely by the fact that Christopher has autism. I can't go much more in depth without giving away some plot twists of the novel, but overall it makes me nervous to have children. I identify so much with the mother in the novel before I factor in that she has a child with autism that I worry about what would happen to me if I someday have a child with autism. I don't honestly know what I would do.
But despite this overwhelming idea, I enjoyed the novel. Read it. It's worth it.
Introduction: How many books do I read in a year?
I'm a reader. I have been for my entire life, starting when I was about 4 and continuing rather obsessively until now, and I don't see me giving up this beloved habit anytime soon. I read a lot -- in the two minutes before class starts, while I'm eating, during commercials, at restaurants while I'm waiting to meet people, before bed, anytime, really, that I have to kill, I pull out a book. My life is busy: I'm a full-time graduate student, I work at least one job (sometimes more), I am currently planning my wedding (and also my life), and I spend plenty of time with my fiancée and our friends. My life probably won't ever stop being busy, especially since I plan on being a high school English teacher. Nonetheless, I devote time every day to reading for pleasure -- not for homework or professional development or any kind of constructive purpose, just for the pure joy of reading a good book. I don't really have any rules about what I read -- I will read any genre as long as the book sounds interesting, and I have no problem putting a book down if I get bored. I am never without a book, and a surprising amount of the time I am reading more than one book.
Thus I am curious: How many books do I read in a year?
I started keeping track on April 2, 2011, and plan on keeping track until at least April 2, 2012. I'll note what book I'm reading and its author, how long it took for me to read it, and then anything else that strikes me about that particular book.
So far, I've finished 3 books (which I will update on here as soon as possible), and I'm sure I'll finish more!
Thus I am curious: How many books do I read in a year?
I started keeping track on April 2, 2011, and plan on keeping track until at least April 2, 2012. I'll note what book I'm reading and its author, how long it took for me to read it, and then anything else that strikes me about that particular book.
So far, I've finished 3 books (which I will update on here as soon as possible), and I'm sure I'll finish more!
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