Alison Lurie's Truth and Consequences proved to be the ideal antidote to Snow. The latter was challenging and slow, and above all demanding; the former is a lovely and quick read. I read it on Monday evening, which meant I returned from the holiday weekend with the awesome sense of accomplishment of having finished two novels. (Hoorah!)
Lurie's novel just barely sneaks out from the label of (middle-aged) chick lit. She chooses the popular setting of a small liberal arts college; the four main characters (two couples) are a professor, a visiting fellow, a college administrator, and a former poet. Sounds just like you and your friends, right? But it works. Jane and Alan's marriage is being eroded by his back pain, and I think almost everyone knows how destructive to a relationship the interplay of caregiver and caregetter can be. They aren't perfect, but they are sympathetic, and you want them to figure out a way to get by and be happy again. The other couple, Delia and Henry, aren't as well drawn, but their vagueness drives the novel. If we knew them as intimately as we know Alan and Jane, I don't think it would work.
I imagine you have guessed by now that when the two couples come together, temptation and havoc ensue. But since there are a few different ways the plot could unravel, it's worth the read to discover which route Lurie and her characters choose.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Reading While Listening
Michael has previously written about audiobooks, finding free literature for your iPod at LibriVox. But what of the poor souls who bring make a living by bringing you your commuting literature? The LA Times recently published a feature on narrators. The tease: "Just how does the commuter's salvation, a.k.a. the audio book, make it from page to iPod? Hint: There's a lot of patience required, not to mention Blistex and reverie." The article reminds you of the obvious - it's hard work to talk and talk and talk, pronouncing everything correctly and putting the perfect inflection into dialogue. But what an awesome way to inhabit a book.
Now, I've never really been into the audio book. I think I get more easily distracted when I'm listening to words than when I'm seeing them. Also, if the voice is wrong, it can ruin it for me entirely. (I listened to part of Sister Carrie once, and was convulsing at the narrator's drag queen take on Carrie's voice.) But I think I'd like them for the right books. Does anyone have suggestions?
Now, I've never really been into the audio book. I think I get more easily distracted when I'm listening to words than when I'm seeing them. Also, if the voice is wrong, it can ruin it for me entirely. (I listened to part of Sister Carrie once, and was convulsing at the narrator's drag queen take on Carrie's voice.) But I think I'd like them for the right books. Does anyone have suggestions?
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Snow
It's a little unnerving to read a book entitled Snow while the weather around you toggles between 90 and sunny and 50 and rainy. Especially when the author truly evokes an icy snowscape.
But I'm getting into the review before the disclaimer, which is: I will not be able to do this book justice. Orhan Pamuk defies my abilities.
Snow dominates the novel - shutting the roads and isolating the little town of Kars from the rest of Turkey; and more importantly, providing the hero with the blueprint for his final book of poems. Ka, a exiled poet acting as journalist, has been suffering from writer's block, but upon his arrival the poems begin falling like snowflakes. And he arranges them as on a snowflake, creating the unique pattern that makes up his soul.
But of course, this is just the tip of the iceberg. In three days, Kars plays host to an array of interlocking love stories and betrayals, suicides, murder, epiphanies, political intrigue, religious extremism, a coup, and two plays with shocking denouements. It's too much to even begin to recount. And doppelgangers abound. Ka, in Kars in search of a story and his own happiness, is mirrored later by the narrator, a novelist named Orhan, who too comes to Kars in search of a story. The interplay of the snowflake's singularity and the characters' doubles could make a great topic for a paper...
I don't think Pamuk is for everyone. He packs an immense amount of detail, plot, character into each page - not really beach reading, despite my attempt at a half hour in Huntington Beach. You have to be willing to devote yourself to the story, a requirement that led me to take much longer than I expected to finish reading. But he is immensely rewarding - somehow he can tell you in advance how it ends and still make it a surprise. He is just lovely.
But I'm getting into the review before the disclaimer, which is: I will not be able to do this book justice. Orhan Pamuk defies my abilities.
Snow dominates the novel - shutting the roads and isolating the little town of Kars from the rest of Turkey; and more importantly, providing the hero with the blueprint for his final book of poems. Ka, a exiled poet acting as journalist, has been suffering from writer's block, but upon his arrival the poems begin falling like snowflakes. And he arranges them as on a snowflake, creating the unique pattern that makes up his soul.
But of course, this is just the tip of the iceberg. In three days, Kars plays host to an array of interlocking love stories and betrayals, suicides, murder, epiphanies, political intrigue, religious extremism, a coup, and two plays with shocking denouements. It's too much to even begin to recount. And doppelgangers abound. Ka, in Kars in search of a story and his own happiness, is mirrored later by the narrator, a novelist named Orhan, who too comes to Kars in search of a story. The interplay of the snowflake's singularity and the characters' doubles could make a great topic for a paper...
I don't think Pamuk is for everyone. He packs an immense amount of detail, plot, character into each page - not really beach reading, despite my attempt at a half hour in Huntington Beach. You have to be willing to devote yourself to the story, a requirement that led me to take much longer than I expected to finish reading. But he is immensely rewarding - somehow he can tell you in advance how it ends and still make it a surprise. He is just lovely.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Czeslaw Milosz
Milosz may be my favorite intellectual of the 20th century. The Captive Mind was a captivating (sorry about the bad pun) examination of the moral compromises that thinkers and dreamers make in a totalitarian regime. (By the way, Lisa, can you return my copy when you get a chance?) And though he passed away in 2004, there's still new work to read.
Legends of Modernity is a compilation of letters and essays from 1942-43, when Milosz lived in Nazi-occupied Poland, and is being published in English for the first time. Reviewer Robert Fagan describes the Milosz's writing as "concise and penetrating." Here's one example: "Evil has become complicated, it has become more clever and sly, and he who wants to confront it must arm himself with equivalent perspicacity," an excellent reminder of the strange strange condition of living in Poland in the 20th century.
I saw Milosz live as an undergrad; he and translator and friend Robert Hass were discussing the nature of poetry translation. Two things about Milosz struck me; his intense eyebrows (picture) and his easy relationship with genius and art. While Hass spoke of technique and difficulties, Milosz commented in grumbly tones about inspiration, and just knowing something was right.
I hope Milosz turns out to be like Tupac and Biggie, continuing to release new works from beyond the grave.
Legends of Modernity is a compilation of letters and essays from 1942-43, when Milosz lived in Nazi-occupied Poland, and is being published in English for the first time. Reviewer Robert Fagan describes the Milosz's writing as "concise and penetrating." Here's one example: "Evil has become complicated, it has become more clever and sly, and he who wants to confront it must arm himself with equivalent perspicacity," an excellent reminder of the strange strange condition of living in Poland in the 20th century.
I saw Milosz live as an undergrad; he and translator and friend Robert Hass were discussing the nature of poetry translation. Two things about Milosz struck me; his intense eyebrows (picture) and his easy relationship with genius and art. While Hass spoke of technique and difficulties, Milosz commented in grumbly tones about inspiration, and just knowing something was right.
I hope Milosz turns out to be like Tupac and Biggie, continuing to release new works from beyond the grave.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
America!
The worst thing (or second worst thing, depending on how much I miss hockey) about not having cable is that I can't watch Jon Stewart and The Daily Show. Fortunately, I have America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction. I was belated in reading it, due to a strange affliction which causes me to read most books received as gifts one year after receiving them.
Unsurprisingly, the book is a rollicking good read. Since the show largely skewers current events, it's nice to see Stewart and his writers take aim at American history as well. I discovered that apparently my preferred government is a Constitutional Sultanate ("favorite kind of war: pillow fight") and learned the porn name of House members is the largest city in their district plus the state flower. (This unfortunately means that my representative shares the name Los Angeles Poppy with several of her colleagues. Still funny though.) There are other goofy jokes - and a surprising amount of actual information.
I applaud the inspired textbook premise. In addition to allowing for a number of non sequitor jokes that were brilliant, it reminded me of how annoyingly ADD-esque student textbooks are. We wonder why our students have trouble with focus? There are ten other pop-up boxes and insets breaking up the main narrative.
But anyway, read it. It'll remind you - in a strange way - why America is so cool, even when it's frustrating.
Unsurprisingly, the book is a rollicking good read. Since the show largely skewers current events, it's nice to see Stewart and his writers take aim at American history as well. I discovered that apparently my preferred government is a Constitutional Sultanate ("favorite kind of war: pillow fight") and learned the porn name of House members is the largest city in their district plus the state flower. (This unfortunately means that my representative shares the name Los Angeles Poppy with several of her colleagues. Still funny though.) There are other goofy jokes - and a surprising amount of actual information.
I applaud the inspired textbook premise. In addition to allowing for a number of non sequitor jokes that were brilliant, it reminded me of how annoyingly ADD-esque student textbooks are. We wonder why our students have trouble with focus? There are ten other pop-up boxes and insets breaking up the main narrative.
But anyway, read it. It'll remind you - in a strange way - why America is so cool, even when it's frustrating.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Dueling Reviews
Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go definitely struck me as the kind of novel that would impact readers in different ways. In light of that, I'm offering two capsule reviews, one by me and one by Library operative Carolline. Together, I hope they will shine more light on whether this is the book for you.
1. This book is creepy. Even after reading other reviews and discovering what the dark mystery is, from the beginning the ominous tone of the novel affects you. You’re never quite sure if the narrator and her friends are in danger from the rest of society, or if they’re a threat to them. Children of the Corn, with feelings. It’s not until the very end that everything is explained--much like the villain's monologue in a movie--but that’s what keeps you going. At times, the book gets a little slow, describing the narrator’s childhood, and way too many English countryside's, but is overall a good read. Smart, philosophical and creepy.
2. This may be the gentlest dystopia I've ever read. Combining science fiction and that most British of genres - the boarding school Bildungsroman, Ishiguro has created a masterpiece of innocence lost. This is the story of love triangle and the fate that awaits all three, but also a meditation on the human capacity to love and feel, and (there's more?!) an indictment of society's ability to suspend morality in order to feed our insatiable desires. A beautiful, haunting elegy that may never let you go.
1. This book is creepy. Even after reading other reviews and discovering what the dark mystery is, from the beginning the ominous tone of the novel affects you. You’re never quite sure if the narrator and her friends are in danger from the rest of society, or if they’re a threat to them. Children of the Corn, with feelings. It’s not until the very end that everything is explained--much like the villain's monologue in a movie--but that’s what keeps you going. At times, the book gets a little slow, describing the narrator’s childhood, and way too many English countryside's, but is overall a good read. Smart, philosophical and creepy.
2. This may be the gentlest dystopia I've ever read. Combining science fiction and that most British of genres - the boarding school Bildungsroman, Ishiguro has created a masterpiece of innocence lost. This is the story of love triangle and the fate that awaits all three, but also a meditation on the human capacity to love and feel, and (there's more?!) an indictment of society's ability to suspend morality in order to feed our insatiable desires. A beautiful, haunting elegy that may never let you go.
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