I posted early on about Acceptable Gaps—now I'm adding to that list of rejections with my list of books I started but abandoned in 2010.
Jose Saramago, Death with Interruptions. This one was on my Gaps list—but the writing style was so unwieldy that I couldn't stick with it. One sentence had 78 commas, and a later sentence had 101 commas—I only made it about 35 pages. I'm sorry, but that's letting the form get in the way of the function.
Friedrich Durrenmatt, The Assignment. Every chapter is a single sentence, running over multiple pages. Oddly more readable than the Saramago, but still difficult. I got through about four chapters. Not on Gaps list.
Mary Roach, Stiff. I got about halfway through, but it just dragged on way too long. It was less entertaining to me than Bonk, which I finished earlier in the year. I have Spook but won't pull that off the shelf for another year or two. Not on Gaps list.
Howard Dully, My Lobotomy. I would rather have a lobotomy than finish this horribly-written book, no matter how compelling the actual story may be. It reads as if it was dictated and transcribed, and this guy talks about every single memory he has of his entire childhood. He lost me for good when he said that he really liked bananas—sometimes he would even take a banana up to his room and eat it there. Seriously? This is the irrelevant minutia you're writing about, in a book about icepick lobotomies?!? Editor, you failed. Not on Gaps list—my book group meets tonight about this, and I'm sorry to not finish a book group pick, but I just couldn't do it. (I learned after putting it down that this guy got his book deal after being featured on NPR—this was better left as a short oral history.)
In defense, I'm not a total flake: I am reading books from my list, and am in the middle of Vonnegut's The Sirens of Titan right now.
What books have you abandoned this year, and why?
Showing posts with label Rachel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rachel. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Monday, October 5, 2009
Review: The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak
I've long said that books don't make me cry. They don't! The Olympics, yes. Kodak commercials, yes. But books? Never.
Well.
So The Book Thief is set in a town outside Munich during World War II, near enough to see the Jews and Communists march by on their way to Dachau. The protagonist is a young girl for whom stories—books—become a lifeline. She has secrets and friends and secret friends. There are villains, big and small. Words are used as a sword and a shield. The sky is white or gray or yellow.
It's a story told by Death—a convention that might seem gimmicky in other hands; I could describe Zusak's style better if I knew how to make an adjective out of the word "Vonnegut." Death doesn't like surprises, apparently: He tells exactly what's going to happen to whom, in the pages ahead—but somehow you feel compelled to find out why and how, in spite of the dread. Zusak triumphs in presenting a heartbreaking and haunting work without resorting to the blatant emotional manipulation of a twist ending or artificially prolonged denouement.
Marketed as a novel for adults in the author's native Australia, The Book Thief may be missed by adults in the US due to Knopf's decision to market it here as a book for teens. This is unfortunate. I can't imagine processing the full richness and poverty of this story without the benefit of hindsight, or without having paid the cost of experience.
It's the kind of book that makes it hard to choose a next book, because it stays with you for days.
Oh, and about the crying? Never say never...
Well.
So The Book Thief is set in a town outside Munich during World War II, near enough to see the Jews and Communists march by on their way to Dachau. The protagonist is a young girl for whom stories—books—become a lifeline. She has secrets and friends and secret friends. There are villains, big and small. Words are used as a sword and a shield. The sky is white or gray or yellow.
It's a story told by Death—a convention that might seem gimmicky in other hands; I could describe Zusak's style better if I knew how to make an adjective out of the word "Vonnegut." Death doesn't like surprises, apparently: He tells exactly what's going to happen to whom, in the pages ahead—but somehow you feel compelled to find out why and how, in spite of the dread. Zusak triumphs in presenting a heartbreaking and haunting work without resorting to the blatant emotional manipulation of a twist ending or artificially prolonged denouement.
Marketed as a novel for adults in the author's native Australia, The Book Thief may be missed by adults in the US due to Knopf's decision to market it here as a book for teens. This is unfortunate. I can't imagine processing the full richness and poverty of this story without the benefit of hindsight, or without having paid the cost of experience.
It's the kind of book that makes it hard to choose a next book, because it stays with you for days.
Oh, and about the crying? Never say never...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Books as Art: Su Blackwell
I am one of those who shudder at some forms of book destruction (underlining, or worse, highlighting!!), but am astonished at the amazing works created from a single book, by the UK artist Su Blackwell. I learned about this on Jezebel today, and the comments on their post also include other cool bits of books as art.
(image via Telegraph)
Jezebel • Telegraph • Su Blackwell Official Site
(image via Telegraph)
Jezebel • Telegraph • Su Blackwell Official Site
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Review: Nella Larsen, Passing
I just have to share news of this startling little novella I just finished: Nella Larsen's Passing.
Set in the late 1920s in a society still under the shadow of Plessy v. Ferguson, it's the story of Irene and Clare, both of mixed-race heritage and light-skinned. They grew up together, but Clare moved away after the death of her father, and they reconnect as adults—when Clare is "passing" for white, in her everyday life. Irene passes occasionally, for momentary social benefits, but identifies more closely with the black community, and lives her everyday life openly within it. Irene learns that Clare's (white) husband is horribly racist and unaware of Clare's heritage, and has to decide whether to keep Clare's secret—when doing so may also save Irene's own marriage—or stand up for her beliefs.
There are many threads of tension throughout, and some of the sexual tensions are interesting to read so soon after finishing The Awakening. But the issue of "passing," the fluid racial identifications, and the social confines of the time are what made this so fascinating and challenging, and so different from things I'd read before.
Thinking back, my reading history has little that depicts the early/emerging black middle class and the choices available to them (in all aspects, not just race), and I thought a lot about how setting this story among the middle class made it very different from the options the characters would have had if it had been set in a different time or place—cf. Imitation of Life, for just one example. I hadn't had previous occasion to think about race choices (a concept foreign to my experience) in this milieu. This book's effect on me reminded me of the phrase "comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable"—a good thing, IMHO.
So although this was not on my Gaps list, reading it helped me realize that I had a gap—and on my next list I'll add Larsen's 1928 novel Quicksand.
PS: I read the Penguin Classics edition, which has a fascinating introduction by Professor Thadious M. Davis that I didn't read until after finishing the story. This intro is like a lit seminar, discussing virtually all the various threads of tension, as well as the place this work has in American literature in general, and Harlem Renaissance literature in specific.
Set in the late 1920s in a society still under the shadow of Plessy v. Ferguson, it's the story of Irene and Clare, both of mixed-race heritage and light-skinned. They grew up together, but Clare moved away after the death of her father, and they reconnect as adults—when Clare is "passing" for white, in her everyday life. Irene passes occasionally, for momentary social benefits, but identifies more closely with the black community, and lives her everyday life openly within it. Irene learns that Clare's (white) husband is horribly racist and unaware of Clare's heritage, and has to decide whether to keep Clare's secret—when doing so may also save Irene's own marriage—or stand up for her beliefs.
There are many threads of tension throughout, and some of the sexual tensions are interesting to read so soon after finishing The Awakening. But the issue of "passing," the fluid racial identifications, and the social confines of the time are what made this so fascinating and challenging, and so different from things I'd read before.
Thinking back, my reading history has little that depicts the early/emerging black middle class and the choices available to them (in all aspects, not just race), and I thought a lot about how setting this story among the middle class made it very different from the options the characters would have had if it had been set in a different time or place—cf. Imitation of Life, for just one example. I hadn't had previous occasion to think about race choices (a concept foreign to my experience) in this milieu. This book's effect on me reminded me of the phrase "comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable"—a good thing, IMHO.
So although this was not on my Gaps list, reading it helped me realize that I had a gap—and on my next list I'll add Larsen's 1928 novel Quicksand.
PS: I read the Penguin Classics edition, which has a fascinating introduction by Professor Thadious M. Davis that I didn't read until after finishing the story. This intro is like a lit seminar, discussing virtually all the various threads of tension, as well as the place this work has in American literature in general, and Harlem Renaissance literature in specific.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Two New Poirot Short Stories Found
From The Guardian:
[T]wo previously unpublished Hercule Poirot stories have emerged from a mass of family papers at Agatha Christie's favourite home.
The first story, The Mystery of the Dog's Ball, eventually became the 1937 novel Dumb Witness, in which an heiress dies from falling down the stairs after apparently tripping over her fox terrier's toy. The title of the other new find, The Capture of Cerberus, has graced another story. The original was written to complete The Labours of Hercules, a collection of Poirot's 12 last cases. The first 11 were published in the Strand magazine between 1939-40, but the last only appeared in the book published in 1947 – a new story keeping only the title from the notebook version.
They will appear in Agatha Christie's Secret Notebooks: Fifty Years of Mysteries in the Making, to be published by HarperCollins in September.
[T]wo previously unpublished Hercule Poirot stories have emerged from a mass of family papers at Agatha Christie's favourite home.
The first story, The Mystery of the Dog's Ball, eventually became the 1937 novel Dumb Witness, in which an heiress dies from falling down the stairs after apparently tripping over her fox terrier's toy. The title of the other new find, The Capture of Cerberus, has graced another story. The original was written to complete The Labours of Hercules, a collection of Poirot's 12 last cases. The first 11 were published in the Strand magazine between 1939-40, but the last only appeared in the book published in 1947 – a new story keeping only the title from the notebook version.
They will appear in Agatha Christie's Secret Notebooks: Fifty Years of Mysteries in the Making, to be published by HarperCollins in September.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Rachel: Progress report, *Animal Farm, *Lord of the Flies
I'm two down, in my shortened list of 50, and have just started #3.
I began with Orwell's Animal Farm for one slightly shameful reason: It's short. Very little about this book was a surprise to me; the premise and events and characters were so familiar already, just by pop culture reference, that I almost didn't need to read it at all! But I enjoyed it—I like that kind of social-ills fable, like Ionesco's Rhinoceros or Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea.
Then I felt that of the books on my list, the one that seemed the best next read after Animal Farm was Golding's Lord of the Flies, with its similar theme. I also like adventure/survival stories. I knew the fate of one key character already (Piggy, natch), also thanks to pop culture references, but didn't really know how it would all unfold. One thing surprised me: Given his oddly calm, cold, and self-centered actions at the very start of the story—right after a plane crash, hello—I didn't expect Ralph (whose name I figured was probably pronounced like Ralph Fiennes, not Ralph Macchio) to be so thoughtful, sensitive, or emotional. It was interesting to see him change. I didn't realize, before reading, that Ralph was the main protagonist of the story.
For my book group, which met last night, I read Karen Abbott's Sin in the Second City (not on my list). This non-fiction book portrays the brothels in early 20th-century Chicago, most notably the Everleigh Club, and their downfall at the hands of social activists. A point that struck me during the reading of this book was the steps some women took then toward claiming their own sexuality—although it's a gray area, morally speaking, given all the circumstances. But because of that point, I think the next best read from my list is Chopin's The Awakening. I just read the first few pages last night, but am not far enough into it to comment yet...
I began with Orwell's Animal Farm for one slightly shameful reason: It's short. Very little about this book was a surprise to me; the premise and events and characters were so familiar already, just by pop culture reference, that I almost didn't need to read it at all! But I enjoyed it—I like that kind of social-ills fable, like Ionesco's Rhinoceros or Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea.
Then I felt that of the books on my list, the one that seemed the best next read after Animal Farm was Golding's Lord of the Flies, with its similar theme. I also like adventure/survival stories. I knew the fate of one key character already (Piggy, natch), also thanks to pop culture references, but didn't really know how it would all unfold. One thing surprised me: Given his oddly calm, cold, and self-centered actions at the very start of the story—right after a plane crash, hello—I didn't expect Ralph (whose name I figured was probably pronounced like Ralph Fiennes, not Ralph Macchio) to be so thoughtful, sensitive, or emotional. It was interesting to see him change. I didn't realize, before reading, that Ralph was the main protagonist of the story.
For my book group, which met last night, I read Karen Abbott's Sin in the Second City (not on my list). This non-fiction book portrays the brothels in early 20th-century Chicago, most notably the Everleigh Club, and their downfall at the hands of social activists. A point that struck me during the reading of this book was the steps some women took then toward claiming their own sexuality—although it's a gray area, morally speaking, given all the circumstances. But because of that point, I think the next best read from my list is Chopin's The Awakening. I just read the first few pages last night, but am not far enough into it to comment yet...
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Rachel, Acceptable Gaps
When compiling my list, I also thought about a few famous/epic/classic books I've never read, which I purposefully don't plan to read. Some people love these books, and they're common on "Must Read Before You Die" lists--but I feel like I can die without reading these and it'll be OK, for I will have filled my reading days with other wonderful things.
Here are my acceptable gaps (list edited to include those I was reminded of by your comments below, thanks):
Hardy (Thomas): any
Joyce: Ulysses
Melville: Moby Dick
Mitchell: Gone With the Wind
Rand (Ayn): any
Tolstoy: War and Peace
Wallace: Infinite Jest
What are yours?
Here are my acceptable gaps (list edited to include those I was reminded of by your comments below, thanks):
Hardy (Thomas): any
Joyce: Ulysses
Melville: Moby Dick
Mitchell: Gone With the Wind
Rand (Ayn): any
Tolstoy: War and Peace
Wallace: Infinite Jest
What are yours?
Rachel's List
Fun project, thanks for starting!
I'm more likely to participate with a 50-book list than a 100-book list. Doing so gives me more freedom to read other things on the spur of the moment, or go on movie/TV binges as I frequently do during the year, without feeling like this has the pressure of a school assignment. So here's my 50-book list, all fiction. Bold = in progress. Italics = finished.
Amis: Lucky Jim
Atwood: Oryx and Crake
Beerbohm: Zuleika Dobson
Bellow: Humboldt's Gift
Bulgakov: The Master and Margarita
Burroughs: Tarzan of the Apes
Chabon: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Childers: The Riddle in the Sands
Chopin: The Awakening
Clarke: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
Coetzee: Disgrace
Collins: The Moonstone
Connolly: The Book of Lost Things
Doctorow: The Book of Daniel
Dreiser: An American Tragedy
Faulks: Birdsong
Gaiman: The Graveyard Book
Gaiman: Neverwhere
Gibson & Sterling: The Difference Engine
Golding: Lord of the Flies
Gruber: The Book of Air and Shadows
Hilton: Lost Horizon
Hurston: Their Eyes Were Watching God
Ishiguro: Remains of the Day
Jerome: Three Men in a Boat
Kipling: Kim
Lawrence: Lady Chatterley's Lover
Martel: Life of Pi
Moore: Fool
Nabokov: Lolita
Nemirovsky: Suite Francaise
Orczy: The Scarlet Pimpernel
Orwell: Animal Farm
Pynchon: The Crying of Lot 49
Radcliffe: The Mysteries of Udolpho
Roth: Portnoy's Complaint
Saramago: Death with Interruptions [ABANDONED]
Schlink: The Reader
Selznick: The Invention of Hugo Cabret
Solzhenitsyn: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
Stendhal: The Charterhouse of Parma
Stephenson: Anathem
Stowe: Uncle Tom's Cabin
Vonnegut: The Sirens of Titan
Wells: The War of the Worlds
Wilde: The Picture of Dorian Gray
Wilson: The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit
Wroblewski: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle
Zafon: The Shadow of the Wind
Zusak: The Book Thief
I'm more likely to participate with a 50-book list than a 100-book list. Doing so gives me more freedom to read other things on the spur of the moment, or go on movie/TV binges as I frequently do during the year, without feeling like this has the pressure of a school assignment. So here's my 50-book list, all fiction. Bold = in progress. Italics = finished.
Amis: Lucky Jim
Atwood: Oryx and Crake
Beerbohm: Zuleika Dobson
Bellow: Humboldt's Gift
Bulgakov: The Master and Margarita
Burroughs: Tarzan of the Apes
Chabon: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Childers: The Riddle in the Sands
Chopin: The Awakening
Clarke: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
Coetzee: Disgrace
Collins: The Moonstone
Connolly: The Book of Lost Things
Doctorow: The Book of Daniel
Dreiser: An American Tragedy
Faulks: Birdsong
Gaiman: The Graveyard Book
Gaiman: Neverwhere
Gibson & Sterling: The Difference Engine
Golding: Lord of the Flies
Gruber: The Book of Air and Shadows
Hilton: Lost Horizon
Hurston: Their Eyes Were Watching God
Ishiguro: Remains of the Day
Jerome: Three Men in a Boat
Kipling: Kim
Lawrence: Lady Chatterley's Lover
Martel: Life of Pi
Moore: Fool
Nabokov: Lolita
Nemirovsky: Suite Francaise
Orczy: The Scarlet Pimpernel
Orwell: Animal Farm
Pynchon: The Crying of Lot 49
Radcliffe: The Mysteries of Udolpho
Roth: Portnoy's Complaint
Saramago: Death with Interruptions [ABANDONED]
Schlink: The Reader
Selznick: The Invention of Hugo Cabret
Solzhenitsyn: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
Stendhal: The Charterhouse of Parma
Stephenson: Anathem
Stowe: Uncle Tom's Cabin
Vonnegut: The Sirens of Titan
Wells: The War of the Worlds
Wilde: The Picture of Dorian Gray
Wilson: The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit
Wroblewski: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle
Zafon: The Shadow of the Wind
Zusak: The Book Thief
