skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Other people do book reviews too! (In fact, I hear there are even other book blogs, such as Bookslut, but I am lame and haven't searched out proof.)
Anyway, Boldtype is a monthly newsletter by Flavorpill, and mainly distinguishes itself with a hipster vibe and independent, non-commercial streak. Also, each month has a theme - and like most themes, some work better than others.
November's newsletter is about kinship and the complexity of family ties. Joan Didion's Year of Magical Thinking received a nod from them as well:
Through her grieving, Didion comes to understand that death is not just about losing someone else; it's also about the loss of oneself. Time had stopped for her the day she married Dunne; then she abruptly awoke to her 71-year-old self, bewildered and alone. Now she has to navigate life without her lifelong partner's advice; now she has to make medical decisions for their terminally ill daughter. It becomes painfully obvious just how much she is a part of the people she loved.
When I wax philosophical, I occasionally wonder to what extent we exist outside of our relationships with others and how we are perceived by them. And by that measure, losing a loved one is clearly losing a part of ourselves. Also, loss is always a love story. Definitely will make it on my list.
Nothing else *particularly* caught my eye, but isn't that how much collections of book reviews go? As I remember, and dig through my inbox, I will be trying to share with you some other people's book reviews.
Which reminds me, feel free to comment/e-mail me if you want to recommend books or put something up here.
Thus far in my Times reading:
"[A] very surprised William T. Vollmann received a National Book Award for fiction for his widely praised novel Europe Central," a book on my "to read" list; another likely future read, Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, also won honors. In the same article Anne-Marie O'Connor considers whether book awards have become too commercialized to be meaningful anymore.
Norman Mailer nevertheless made an impassioned defense of recognizing literature:Mailer said it is important to celebrate the kind of serious literature that has imbued societies with powerful but intangible rewards, but is endangered today.
"Would England be a great nation without William Shakespeare?" Mailer asked. "Would Ireland be entering a period of prosperity today without James Joyce?"
But before boys get to be Mailers (hopefully without the bad attitude about women), they have to grow up readers. And shockingly enough, they have their own book clubs. A Virginia middle school has launched Club BILI (Boys in Literacy Initiative), with boy-friendly selections. The goal?
to help close the literacy achievement gap between boys and girls. The club focuses on books that appeal specifically to boys and includes read-aloud sessions, visits to elementary schools to promote reading, and trips to see movies based on the books they read.
On average, boys score seven to 11 points lower than girls on standardized reading comprehension tests. The discrepancy isn't limited to the United States — a study by the University of York in Britain found it exists in 22 countries. Scientists say boys are born with biological differences that make them read later than girls, though they eventually catch up. Boys also have a harder time sitting still for long periods, studies show.
Prevailing attitudes toward reading don't help.
"Society has created an aura about reading that it's a girl thing and it doesn't fit into adolescents' persona," said Jodie Peters, a reading peer coach at the school who co-founded Club BILI after coming upon a book about the gap called "Reading Don't Fix No Chevys." "We want to fight that."
It also turns out that the available reading in schools doesn't appeal to boys: Teacher and co-founder Rob Murphy noted that "the boys really hated the books that we were making them read in classrooms. There were a lot of female protagonists, and it was hard for them to make the connection with some of the plot lines."
It's too bad to think that youth reading ends up gender segregated, but it's better than the kids not reading at all. And fortunately, there's always Harry Potter...
In this past Sunday's LA Times Magazine, Alan Rifkin muses about the fantastical Los Angeles brand of literature that is "the only American fiction that's really worth reading." (Sorry, after this Saturday, the link probably won't work anymore)
I don't subscribe to that notion, and I'm not even completely sure that I would like most of what he mentions, but I think there is a Hollywood/LA/desert sensibility to the city's writing (and the city itself) that is a little like a shimmering mirage, one that can be beautiful or grotesque - or more often, both at once. According to Rifkin, it was more like this in the 30s through the 60s, but it's still there, and still inspiring authors.
Two thought-provoking quotes:
Rifkin on the difference between the coasts: "They get that we're closer than they are to the vortex."
Rafael Luevano, an area religion professor: "The Anglo mind might be giving way to the Latino influence of magic, myth and symbol."
And a brief selection of titles that come up as Rifkin's examples: Evelyn Waugh, "The Loved One;" Carolyn See (Carolline's favorite), "Golden Days" and "Slipstream;" Francesca Lia Block's Weetzie Bat novels; Joy Nicholson, "The Road to Esmeralda"
A SoCal girl at heart, maybe I should give these books a try. I have read a Carolyn See novel - The Handyman - and can now see how the magical realism truly reflected this crazy city I call home.
When Jon Stewart said that on Crossfire, I wanted to stand up and cheer. I can get so tired of punditry and fighting.
What I wish, however, was that more talking heads were actually coming up with concrete suggestions and ideas. Sort of like what Bill Maher did in his 2002 When You Ride Alone, You Ride with Bin Laden, a collection of posters (updated versions of WWII ones) and essays about what the government would be saying if it chose to be straight with the American people. His suggestions run the gamut from obvious (we need to wean ourselves from our oil dependence) to politically incorrect (racial profiling in airports makes sense) to unexpected (ladies, give up your blood-soaked diamonds). It's dated in many ways - a lot has happened in 3 years, even if we haven't had another terrorist attack in the United States - but still carries relevance today.In a twisted way, something I admire about Bill Maher is how frequently I disagree with him. Because he doesn't fit neatly into any ideological box that I can think of, I usually believe that he's sincere about what he says. And I believe that he is sincerely angry at our government for not asking - not demanding - more of us. This nation is at its greatest when it pulls together, standing as one even as it respects individuality; even as this is a little too let-the-mighty-eagle-soar for me, I agree with the main point. We can and should do more; and our leaders can and should tell us that. So kudos to Maher for being willing to anger all sides because he's fighting for what he truly believes in: America.(Also, he's convinced me: I don't need diamonds.)
My first Nadine Gordimer novel - a book club selection - was None to Accompany Me, a transitional novel. It came just a few years after she won the Nobel Prize, and in the midst of the stupendous upheaval that accompanied the end of apartheid and white hegemony. The novel is set in this tumultuous time and details several lives, but concentrates on Vera Stark, a strong and practical lawyer who has worked for black land rights.
Hers isn't an uplifting tale, although it is a sensual one. A woman deeply in touch with her sexuality, she left her soldier husband for a sexy artist who takes his place, and continues to find sex with her husband and a new lover powerful and fulfilling. (Though much of this is told in flashback) She's not so good at the emotional level though, and the intensity of her lover/husband's need for her repels her, as do the intimacies of her children and other family friends. She is passionately independent: having none to accompany her is her choice, not that of those around her.
But beyond Vera, this is a novel - written in the immediacy of the moment, coming out the year of the election that brought Nelson Mandela's ANC to power - about lives in flux, about how victory up-ends expected roles, and brings both expected and unexpected change.
The book got a fairly sour review during our club's discussion, and I think that is both fair and unfair. This is a difficult book to like; however, I think that it gains power when thought of in the context of when it was written and pubished. And I think that its very difficulties, the challenges, matter as well. That said, I hear July's People is a more auspicious pick.
This collection of stories by Lisa Glatt is not for your lighthearted moods. It's not quite dark (unlike Mary Gaitskill's "Secretary," which has none of the whimsy injected into the film version) but it doesn't sugarcoat.
The men and (mostly) women in the stories are involved in an array of unbalanced relationships - between friends, lovers, and others who come in and out of one's life. The first, "Dirty Hannah Gets Hit by a Car," is about a little girl and the bullying older girl who torments her. Another story is about a couple attempting to recover from the husband's injuries from lightning strike; two others feature the internal struggle between maintaining one's integrity and giving into what will make a loved one happy, whatever happiness really means. It is not surprising that most of these relationships are also troubled, and while it's not clear precisely what the future holds for these various characters, it's difficult to imagine a series of happy endings. Satisfactory ones perhaps, but not happy.
Glatt's is an intriguing voice. And the stories easy to read. She has also written a novel, A Girl Becomes a Comma Like That, and I'll be reading that to see how she holds up over a longer length.
