A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail - Bill Bryson (Broadway Books, 1998)
Thanks to a certain former South Carolina governor, I have a slightly confused relationship with the Appalachian Trail. And I also had no idea they stretched over 2000 miles of pretty much the entire East Coast. Enter, belatedly, Bill Bryson.
After spending something around two decades in England, Bryson - originally from Iowa - returned to America. And decides a good way to get back into the swing of things would be to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. He makes it sound like it was one of those decisions made mostly on a whim, and that he begin to regret pretty much as soon as he picked up a guidebook. I'm pretty sure it didn't happen quite like this, but anyway...
He and an old (desperately out of shape) childhood friend start out on the journey.
An aside: when I was 19, I found myself in Geneva for a weekend, visiting a friend who had a UN summer internship. (Fancy.) And I joined her and some friends for a daytrip to Gstaadt. As we picnicked, someone had the bright idea to go whitewater rafting. I vetoed this idea as too dangerous, but was talking into trying canyoning, "a nice little hike down to a lake with a waterfall." This was roughly in the same place and about 3 days before this happened. That afternoon was among the most grueling of my life, and I was miserable and cold and wet and scared the entire time. I was also intensely proud of myself for making it through.
This is pretty much how Bryson sounded talking about much of his hike. He definitely did not make me think that this is an adventure I should try. On the other hand, he did tell me a lot more about the geography of the area, the history and (mis)management of the National Park Service, and make me terribly envious of the type of person who would embark on such a challenge. Even more so, it reminded me how little I walk anymore, and how much I truly miss walking. (DC, I will always be grateful.)
Also, and perhaps more pertinently, Bryson is hilarious and witty and such a wonderful voice to spend time with. (As I discovered a couple years back as well.) So glad he exists.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
I think I'm missing the point
Major Barbara - (George) Bernard Shaw (Penguin Books, 1913, 1951)
I am pretty sure I'm exactly the kind of fan GBS would not have wanted. I swoon over the witty dialogue and fast pace and the sort of ineffable charm that his plays possess. I also manage to read them as sort of skewed romantic comedies, or I least I did with Arms and the Man, which I am now once more desperate to see staged.
But if you read the plays and slog through the author's prefaces, you'll see what is so easily glossed over by the audience, which is that GBS is trying to make rather biting commentary about society and capitalism and the class structure and morality and and and. It's all rather exhausting.
When I'm feeling particularly bright, I like to think that it's the way that he packages the two things together - the comedy of manners and the sharp critique of someone who would enjoy such a thing (namely me) - that is what I admire in his work. But I fear that might be painting too rosy a picture.
Whatever. George Bernard Shaw knew exactly the kind of audience he was reaching, and I'm going to try not to feel guilty about liking the "wrong" things about his plays.
Oh, which reminds me that maybe I should tell you about Major Barbara. Said Major is a wealthy young lady who has joined the Salvation Army. Her estranged father is an arms manufacturer, her mother an aristocrat. Her mother calls her father back to town because the family needs more money - one daughter is marrying a doofus who won't come into money for a few more years, Barbara is doing her Salvation Army thing and marrying a (rather upwardly mobile, it turns out) Greek professor, and the son is fairly worthless as well. And what ensues is much banter, including a scene at the Army site, which involves dialogue with an accent so thick I had to read aloud to figure out what was being said. And in the end, well I suppose everyone is made to look the hypocrite. And it was delightful.
I am pretty sure I'm exactly the kind of fan GBS would not have wanted. I swoon over the witty dialogue and fast pace and the sort of ineffable charm that his plays possess. I also manage to read them as sort of skewed romantic comedies, or I least I did with Arms and the Man, which I am now once more desperate to see staged.
But if you read the plays and slog through the author's prefaces, you'll see what is so easily glossed over by the audience, which is that GBS is trying to make rather biting commentary about society and capitalism and the class structure and morality and and and. It's all rather exhausting.
When I'm feeling particularly bright, I like to think that it's the way that he packages the two things together - the comedy of manners and the sharp critique of someone who would enjoy such a thing (namely me) - that is what I admire in his work. But I fear that might be painting too rosy a picture.
Whatever. George Bernard Shaw knew exactly the kind of audience he was reaching, and I'm going to try not to feel guilty about liking the "wrong" things about his plays.
Oh, which reminds me that maybe I should tell you about Major Barbara. Said Major is a wealthy young lady who has joined the Salvation Army. Her estranged father is an arms manufacturer, her mother an aristocrat. Her mother calls her father back to town because the family needs more money - one daughter is marrying a doofus who won't come into money for a few more years, Barbara is doing her Salvation Army thing and marrying a (rather upwardly mobile, it turns out) Greek professor, and the son is fairly worthless as well. And what ensues is much banter, including a scene at the Army site, which involves dialogue with an accent so thick I had to read aloud to figure out what was being said. And in the end, well I suppose everyone is made to look the hypocrite. And it was delightful.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
16 y.o. Erin's dream job
Those Guys Have All the Fun: Inside the World of ESPN - James Andrew Miller and Tom Shales (Little, Brown and Company, 2011)
When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to work at ESPN. Statistics preferably, but whatever. I was completely enthralled by the world of sports, and how could I not want to work for the Worldwide Leader? There was this small thing about being located in Bristol, but I figured I could sort that out.
At any rate, I've always had a soft spot for the network, one that has survived despite their callous disregard for hockey in the years since they lost broadcasting rights. So this huge (roughly 750 page) oral history felt like it was right up my alley.
And in so many ways, it was. Different voices - often conflicting - tell the story of ESPN's genesis and rise to glory. It was a peek behind the scenes, and a helpful glimpse of the ways it was amazing, and the ways it really wasn't.
But still, I had such a time getting through this beast. I started it two months, and it languished often enough on my nightstand, because I craved narrative. I needed a story. And this wasn't the right book to give it to me. Which in no way is meant to disparage Miller's & Shales' work, which is incredible. But it just felt overwhelming, and endless, and sad.
That said, it was fun to hear about the first decade, the one I never knew. And then the 90s, when I discovered sports, and started setting my TV to turn on SportsCenter every morning as an alarm clock, and watched pretty much anything that was on, even (dread) boxing. And there was hockey on then! And then shows that I had all but forgotten, or whatever. To realize how many of these names I recognized without really noticing that I knew them.
I'm nothing but glad that I read this, but I'm also shockingly relieved that I'm finished.
When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to work at ESPN. Statistics preferably, but whatever. I was completely enthralled by the world of sports, and how could I not want to work for the Worldwide Leader? There was this small thing about being located in Bristol, but I figured I could sort that out.
At any rate, I've always had a soft spot for the network, one that has survived despite their callous disregard for hockey in the years since they lost broadcasting rights. So this huge (roughly 750 page) oral history felt like it was right up my alley.
And in so many ways, it was. Different voices - often conflicting - tell the story of ESPN's genesis and rise to glory. It was a peek behind the scenes, and a helpful glimpse of the ways it was amazing, and the ways it really wasn't.
But still, I had such a time getting through this beast. I started it two months, and it languished often enough on my nightstand, because I craved narrative. I needed a story. And this wasn't the right book to give it to me. Which in no way is meant to disparage Miller's & Shales' work, which is incredible. But it just felt overwhelming, and endless, and sad.
That said, it was fun to hear about the first decade, the one I never knew. And then the 90s, when I discovered sports, and started setting my TV to turn on SportsCenter every morning as an alarm clock, and watched pretty much anything that was on, even (dread) boxing. And there was hockey on then! And then shows that I had all but forgotten, or whatever. To realize how many of these names I recognized without really noticing that I knew them.
I'm nothing but glad that I read this, but I'm also shockingly relieved that I'm finished.
Fate and such
You're (Not) the One - Alexandra Potter (Plume, 2010)
I am totally not sure what I thought of this book. Other than I think I need a break from romantic comedy-type fiction. Maybe. It's cute. Lucy moves to NYC from England, is like any good heroine in that she is messy and tends toward lateness, and has a perfectionist sister and a suitably wacky roommate. Also a crazy boss. And she's an arty type - specifically a once-aspiring artist who works in a gallery. Check, check, and check. But more importantly, she once kissed a young lover under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset, which should have bound her to him forever. Except they didn't work out, and Lucy can't help wondering what might have been.... until she runs into him again. Sparks fly like mad, but then it turns out that they've grown into two very different people, and opposites don't attract.
But Lucy & Nate can't get rid of each other, even though they would both very much like to. And even though she's met a new guy, one who is so much more like her. Which raises the question: if someone who is so completely unlike you is not the right match, is it really better to fall for a guy who explicitly reminds me of yourself?! I'm skeptical, but then I'm not the one writing the book. And Lucy has to end up with one of her two suitors, right?
Plus two other looks of what love and soul mates might look like, courtesy of the supporting cast. Charming, but not up to the expectations set by Charlotte Merryweather.
I am totally not sure what I thought of this book. Other than I think I need a break from romantic comedy-type fiction. Maybe. It's cute. Lucy moves to NYC from England, is like any good heroine in that she is messy and tends toward lateness, and has a perfectionist sister and a suitably wacky roommate. Also a crazy boss. And she's an arty type - specifically a once-aspiring artist who works in a gallery. Check, check, and check. But more importantly, she once kissed a young lover under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset, which should have bound her to him forever. Except they didn't work out, and Lucy can't help wondering what might have been.... until she runs into him again. Sparks fly like mad, but then it turns out that they've grown into two very different people, and opposites don't attract.
But Lucy & Nate can't get rid of each other, even though they would both very much like to. And even though she's met a new guy, one who is so much more like her. Which raises the question: if someone who is so completely unlike you is not the right match, is it really better to fall for a guy who explicitly reminds me of yourself?! I'm skeptical, but then I'm not the one writing the book. And Lucy has to end up with one of her two suitors, right?
Plus two other looks of what love and soul mates might look like, courtesy of the supporting cast. Charming, but not up to the expectations set by Charlotte Merryweather.
Saturday, March 09, 2013
The perfect marriage gone perfectly wrong
Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn (Crown Publishers, 2012)
I don't think there is anything to be said about Gone Girl that hasn't already been said in the buzz of media attention it got last year. What I'm impressed about is that somehow I managed to miss all the spoilers. Or maybe I didn't, because as it happened, my initial suspicions about plot twists proved pretty spot on.
Has anyone missed the overview yet? Amy and Nick are celebrating ("celebrating") their fifth anniversary, except she goes missing the morning of. The novel alternates between Nick's first person narrative as Amy's disappearance is discovered and the investigation begins, and Amy's diary entries, ranging from when they met and through their marriage. That the marriage is troubled is immediately clear, and it's additionally clear that they both have secrets. But that's the thing about secrets - you can keep them hidden even from your reader. And boy is authorial reliability brought into question here.
It's much more than the tale of a disappearance, it's the story of a marriage, and even before that, the ways that childhood shapes (or misshapes) you in ways both seen and unseen.
And even though I guessed right about Amy's disappearance, I didn't actually trust that I was right, which made the turn almost as surprising. And even more to the point, I could not have predicted all of the twists and turns, and the flood of detail.
I'm not sure it's the ideal read for someone like me, whose relationship with anxiety is so fraught. I coiled up so tense that I am still trying to work myself out. And my dreams last night.... well, let's just say that Plants vs. Zombies and Gone Girl combine in bizarre and frightening ways.
I don't think there is anything to be said about Gone Girl that hasn't already been said in the buzz of media attention it got last year. What I'm impressed about is that somehow I managed to miss all the spoilers. Or maybe I didn't, because as it happened, my initial suspicions about plot twists proved pretty spot on.
Has anyone missed the overview yet? Amy and Nick are celebrating ("celebrating") their fifth anniversary, except she goes missing the morning of. The novel alternates between Nick's first person narrative as Amy's disappearance is discovered and the investigation begins, and Amy's diary entries, ranging from when they met and through their marriage. That the marriage is troubled is immediately clear, and it's additionally clear that they both have secrets. But that's the thing about secrets - you can keep them hidden even from your reader. And boy is authorial reliability brought into question here.
It's much more than the tale of a disappearance, it's the story of a marriage, and even before that, the ways that childhood shapes (or misshapes) you in ways both seen and unseen.
And even though I guessed right about Amy's disappearance, I didn't actually trust that I was right, which made the turn almost as surprising. And even more to the point, I could not have predicted all of the twists and turns, and the flood of detail.
I'm not sure it's the ideal read for someone like me, whose relationship with anxiety is so fraught. I coiled up so tense that I am still trying to work myself out. And my dreams last night.... well, let's just say that Plants vs. Zombies and Gone Girl combine in bizarre and frightening ways.
Monday, March 04, 2013
Faux sincerity
How I Became a Famous Novelist - Steve Hely (Black Cat, 2009)
Large swaths of this book are hilarious, particularly early in the book. I kept laughing out loud, and reading passages to my boyfriend. Very quickly he resorted to the "nod and smile," and yet I just kept repeating the funny parts more loudly, in hopes that my sheer enthusiasm for the funny would rub off.
The conceit is simple: a highly-educated but seriously adrift young man (Pete) is bummed out by his job writing essays for rich students, and even more distressed when his ex-girlfriend announces her upcoming wedding. And then he comes across a couple profiles of hugely successful authors - and decides that not only is their writing crap, but that they know it is crap, and are cashing in on an ingeniously con. So he decides that by the time the ex's wedding comes along, he will be a best-selling author.
The satire of current best-selling authors is fantastic. And as much as I admire Jonathan Safran Foer, the description of the obvious JSF stand in made me just about cry I laughed so hard. It was all beautiful. And our antihero's description of the creative process was amazing too.
Then the book (The Tornado Ashes Club) comes out, and things lost a little steam. Pete discovers that making it up the best-seller list isn't just about hitting all the marks, and that the literary world is more complicated than he may have envisioned. Somehow, his hit novel doesn't make him the belle of the ball at his ex-girlfriend's wedding. And when he meets people who really do treat storytelling with sincere reverence, even he realizes the shortcomings of his snark.
But will he really learn any "lessons" from his experiences? What do you think?
Large swaths of this book are hilarious, particularly early in the book. I kept laughing out loud, and reading passages to my boyfriend. Very quickly he resorted to the "nod and smile," and yet I just kept repeating the funny parts more loudly, in hopes that my sheer enthusiasm for the funny would rub off.
The conceit is simple: a highly-educated but seriously adrift young man (Pete) is bummed out by his job writing essays for rich students, and even more distressed when his ex-girlfriend announces her upcoming wedding. And then he comes across a couple profiles of hugely successful authors - and decides that not only is their writing crap, but that they know it is crap, and are cashing in on an ingeniously con. So he decides that by the time the ex's wedding comes along, he will be a best-selling author.
The satire of current best-selling authors is fantastic. And as much as I admire Jonathan Safran Foer, the description of the obvious JSF stand in made me just about cry I laughed so hard. It was all beautiful. And our antihero's description of the creative process was amazing too.
Then the book (The Tornado Ashes Club) comes out, and things lost a little steam. Pete discovers that making it up the best-seller list isn't just about hitting all the marks, and that the literary world is more complicated than he may have envisioned. Somehow, his hit novel doesn't make him the belle of the ball at his ex-girlfriend's wedding. And when he meets people who really do treat storytelling with sincere reverence, even he realizes the shortcomings of his snark.
But will he really learn any "lessons" from his experiences? What do you think?
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