"A Real Durwan": We love stuff.

So, there is a homeless woman with a lot of grand stories, and she lives near the mailboxes in this apartment complex. Because she has stories of days when she was rich, and because she acts as a sort of guard dog, the tenets like her. The story as a whole is a greed story. The Dalal's buy two basins (sinks); they install one in their apartment, and another in a common area for all to use. The other tenets slowly get envious of them, and decide that they too have every right to have nice things inside their apartment. The homeless woman slowly gets out placed as the people decide to redo the entire building and make it prettier. Everyone is very upset when the basin in the common area gets stolen; there was no one around to protect it anymore. There is a lesson in simplicity present as stuff begets more stuff and wants begets want. As the tenets slowly work their way out of simpler living, the push the old story teller out as well, and end up paying the price for having stuff: they gain the fear of losing that stuff.

The Plague by Albert Camus

It took me a long time to read this book, but it is so good. Camus is a good writer because he makes you think. He does, however, fall into what Patrick Marton and I always referred to as “French-people-can’t-write-fiction.”

The book doesn’t necessarily flow very well. Sometimes, it seems to bop around to whatever topic the narrator (and therefore Camus) feels like talking about. This could reflect the chaotic environment that would besiege a town that has been quarantined., but it doesn’t not make for easy reading. Reality doesn’t translate well to fiction.

That being said, I love reading this book because Camus also falls for what Patrick Marton and I often referred to as “French-People-Know-How-to-do-philosophy-stuffs-especially-when-it-is-literature-based.” If you are anything like me you like stories where something happens to humanity as a whole, and humanity as a microcosm gets interesting (Russell has an interesting game like this; if there are only a 1000 people left on earth, what does the world do?). Unlike the Stranger, Camus does pretty well in painting people in a positive light. At one point there is a discussion about God, and one person talks about how he doesn’t believe in God. What is interesting is that it is a similar complaint that I’ve heard Russell make about people. The character says there cannot be a god because it takes people’s attention away from life. “Stop praying and save a poor person!” he would say. Russell and I have talked about how annoying the idea of waiting for heaven is. Don’t wait for the Kingdom of Heaven, it is upon us now.
The scary thing about this is when the Kingdom gets plague, which is what happens in this novel. Despite their words many people are good, and work to do good. In the event of this crisis, people do not act like animals, even if that simply means standing upright as you walk to your death (Camus’ Sisyphus idea).

My caffeine levels have gotten a little high, so I think I need to stop here. Read the Plague, and get rid of your adjectives sometimes. If anyone has questions, I can answer them in comments.

Going Home to a Landscape: Writings by Filipinas. Ed. Marianna Villanueva, Virginia Cerenio

"Writing landscape thus becomes constitutive of the process of selfhood. This Phillipines, as represented by the women in this volume, is a distinctly plural phenomenon constructed out of the comparison and intersection of past and present, of colonizations and immigration, of the cohabitation of different races and cultures."
- Foreward by Rocio Davis

Phew!! It's a good thing that the poetry and prose in this collection contain NONE of the academica-graduate-degree-speak contained in this foreward, which is nearly drowning in its own jargon. Yet this foreward is also something to be proud of, because it represents the achievements Filipino writers have made in the past 5 years. When I was an undergraduate in 2001, one of my classmates was working on creating a pretend anthology of Filiipino authors, just like this one, because she couldn't find anything like it out there!!

Still, you might want to skip the foreward, and jump right into the introductions by its two editors, for an introduction into the book's design and to Filipino literature in general.

This collection is all about discovery. Villanueva's introduction says that for Filipino women, maintenance of "the internal landscape" is vital, and this image (theme?) unites all the works. The book moves through five phases:

I. Las Dalagas (the time between girlhood and adult womanhood)
II. Landscapes
III. Traveling over Water
IV. Testament
V. Another Day
VI. Roots

The variety of voices is astounding! And it's quite refreshing, making this a fun read. None of the selections repeat, yet they are all actually connected. I am mid-way through the second part, but I'd like to share a few clips to show you the different voices I'm talking about:

april is the month of asparagus / of old uncles with bent backs and tired eyes / of hot sun on my back and shoulders / in april / my father greets the sun / and stays in the fields long after sunset / in dirty flannel and worn Dickies / for more than forty years he has cut and packed / a detestable vegetable / white people love to eat
--- "April in Stockton"

oh yeah, well check this:
my mama's hella brown,
a teacher/artist in da Flip nation
don't got an accent
'cause she's second generation!
-- by the Pinay M.A.F.I.A.

You think I am all mountain and valley, your mouth probing forests, your tongue climbing peaks.
I am small, a landscape defined by the space within your arms. Your palms journey and memorize me.
-- "Cartographer"

some women color their lips red.
not me, i like to color mine with good words instead.
--- "Some Women"

At 2:00 in the morning, the patients who are not unconscious drift in morphine-induced bliss. The events of the evening drift across Caridad's mind like the patients' cardiac tracings on the screen. She hates losing her composure in front of doctors, but she couldn't help herself, she thought. When she and Nita were wrapping Mang Tomas's body in that plastic shroud, she remembered words her father had spoken that summer long ago: "Over the years I built walls around my mind so nothing could hurt me."
--- "Mang Tomas"

I am really enjoying this reading. It is not at all work, though my motive to jump in was partially work-related, given the number of Filipino students in our school. I will update as I read more.

interpreter of maladies / stories by Jhumpa Lahiri

INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER... WINNER OF THE PULITZER PRIZE... PEN/HEMINGWAY AWARD WINNER... NEW YORKER "DEBUT OF THE YEAR".... it declares on the front and back covers. I am not typically one to be swayed by such awards, since artistic merit does not always translate into a good read. Still, I am not above placing them in capital letters at the beginning of my book review, in a pitiful attempt to entice my readers to continue onward.

I have read 56% of this book, which equals the first five of its nine short stories. I read them about a month and a half ago, and when I just now picked up the book in my hands, I had forgotten if I'd even read the story "Sexy." The details came back slowly... not a good sign, when you consider that my memory for fiction typically lasts years.

Still, the first story, "A Temporary Matter," is brilliant. It is not brilliant in the "shiny and happy" sort of way, but in the "piercingly accurate and moving" sort of way. I read this entire story with a fierce look upon my face... A young married couple receives notice that their electricity will be turned off every night, beginning at 8pm. And in the private darkness of their home, every night, they play a simple game that helps them speak what they could not communicate otherwise. They explore their relationship, reach blindly for a way to move forward. Eventually, they grasp the truth of the situation. To me, these characters feel real. In a scene when the husband brushes his teeth, I think the author captures the occasional mundanity of daily life.

The title story, "Interpreter of Maladies," once again portrays a cast of frail, hopeless characters who are trapped in an existence of suffering, due primarily to the overpowering influence of their unfulfilled desires. Hindu overtones abound here, made especially apparent when the family of American tourists visit an ancient holy site. The tourists are sick, almost grotesque, due to their own lack of discipline, which is highlighted in sharp contrast to their disciplined Indian tour guide... or so we think. There are some surprising, provocative moments in the story and the story really picks up in the middle when the conflict finally reveals itself. The English teacher in me really enjoyed the irony that the interpreter in this story is both immensely powerful, yet at the same time completely powerless.

Overall, I would say this is a well-crafted collection of stories about India and her people, including those who stay at home and those who move abroad.

This collection contains characters who struggle to manage their desires -- especially sexual desire -- in their personal relationships and daily life. It is filled with characters who question their choices, doubt their fate, and yearn for a truer sort of existence. Sadly, some are hurt by their dangerous passions. And honestly, the book left me a little depressed.

Promethea: Books One & Two

I feel a little bit better about reading this comic because, unlike 300, it will take me days to read this. Promethea was part of the America's Best Comics line, which was all governed by Alan Moore, one of the mediums best creators. He is the man behind From Hell, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, The Watchmen, Swamp Thing, its spin-off Hellblazer (Constantine), and V for Vendetta (yes, most of the movies were crap). In the late 90s, Moore came out as a practicing magician; the comics world sighed, said, "wow that's great, can we have more comics please?" and a lot of people just let it slide; Alan Moore was never known for being completely sane.

Promethea is where he explains a lot of what he knows about magic. Promethea is a story that lives. When the story of Promethea is written about, someone becomes Promethea. I'm making this all sound like crap.

The interesting part is how Moore does nothing to chastise other belief systems. This is not, "go Wiccans, F*** the Christians!" It is largely about showing how all belief systems work much better together than they possibly could apart. In the last chapter of the second book, the Tarot is explained as a means of talking about the history of mankind, from the big bang on, each card representing a different chapter in the history of time and the universe (the zero card, for example, is The Fool and represents the lack of knowledge because of... well... the lack of everything). One of the most interesting parts he throws in is the interpretation of the genesis creation story representing an amoeba first finding out it could separate into more amoebas, hence why Eve came out of Adam's side.

I'm big on inclusion (stop laughing) and I'm bigger on new ideas. Promethea, even on a second read, does this. And if you don't like what it says, you can always just tell yourself it's a comic book. And it isn't like the characters we read about really exist. Right?

A Canticle for Leibowitz: Clever Subtitle for Post

I had planned on doing three posts on this book, but have failed as I have finished the book, but never felt like writing anything up. I have not been doing very well emotionally lately, and as I sit here thinking about the book, I realize how nice it would be for me to blame this book for that. I could get away with it. The book looks at how we, as humans, often repeat ourselves throughout history. When we destroy our history, there is a fair chance the same mistakes will be made.

This is, of course, a simple view of the issue, and the book deals with it quite well. Human's have flaws, but we have learned from ourselves in the past. We have overcome some of those flaws, but the greatest flaw may be thinking that now-we is better then then-we and that translates into now-we thinking we are better then tomorrow-we will ever be. The world is destroyed twice in The Canticle for Leibowitz; while difficult to find the silver lining here, note that humanity, like the cockroach seems able to be beating down, though not destroyed.

I'm rambling. I think the most important thing to learn from this book is to be weary of facts and texts. Stories (which I love) have to remain their own category of thing, separate from truth. I cannot believe every word of the bible is true, as there were far too many translations, and far too much separation between event, author, first draft, second draft, and so on. But there is a worthwhile story there, and in learning a story, we begin to discover truth; they are small, and they are gradual, but each step gets us closer.

The Fuck-Up: Circumstances Own Control, and You Like It That Way

It seems fitting that the narrator of this book never bothers to share his name. Perhaps it is an effort to portray him as a everyman in his early 20's. During the period when I read the bulk of the book, I was visiting my brother and delivering to him a copy of the The Big Lebowski by Joel Cohen. Both Chris and the Dude share a seemingly fate based view of the the evolution of one's life. Decisions can be made in the moment, but the circumstances that bring about that moment and generally the results of those decisions made in the moment are completely out of the believer's control.

The life which results from such a belief system cab be tempting. Depending on the stringent-ness of one's morality and a ever adjusting base level physical and emotional necessity, these Fatalists will find themselves occasionally in very comfortable circumstances. Unfortunately, as the unnamed narrator, Arthur Nersesian's fuck-up, discovers he who has no real hand in achieving good fortune has no way of ensuring its continuance. Sadly, Nersesian seems more of an Anglo-Saxon than Cohen or Curtis in his particular take on fate. The fuck-up is doomed to suffer the Wyrd of life. When he drifts loose in the world, things generally take a turn for the worse.

The narrator eventually settles on a life which would have been viewed as confining at the novel's beginnings, but the view from the hardest of rock bottom holes can make the mediocre seem acceptable, even satisfying.

The story was well written, and I read it with interest, but did not find nearly as much amusement in the fuck-up's suffering as I believe that the author had intended. Yet perhaps this was the intervention of my own fears. Identifying with or recognizing the fuck-up in one's own life is its most satisfying when one's own fuck-up has either emerged from this ideology or been a friend of karma. Otherwise, visualising a grown man getting deservedly beaten with bats by a junior high school baseball team isn't as much amusing as it is sad.

Ragtime: and here I thought it was a crappy musical

I got into the writing of E.L. Doctorow two summers ago when I saw a three volume book on my friend's shelf. As it turns out I was incorrectly intrigued. I had read the man's name as the suave, and very clearly Spanish, El Doctorow. Amusingly, a similar misconception kept me from reading Ragtime even though I had enjoyed the mafioso adventures of Billy Bathgate, which had been my introduction to the author. All I knew of Ragtime was that it was a musical, and I am, possibly quite pigheadedly, no great fan of musicals in general.

The story of Ragtime is an historical fiction. Now, though I believe that I have only read a few of these types of fictions before, all have generally been enjoyed and one in particular, Little Big Man by Thomas Berger, was a favorite of mine for a long time in high school. Ragtime drew me in particularly quick, due in part to it choice of historical figures to include: Houdini, a beleaguered showman who worked always on the edge of death, frequently walked the line of high entertainer and lower class entertainment. Anarchist Emma Goldman, was also intermittently present throughout the story, ironical acted as one of the most stable figures in this story of the early part of America's twentieth century. She more than any of the other characters realized the size and and stink of the bullshit that was the American dream at this time.

That is what Ragtime represented to me, what has come to be the omni-present reality of America: purported opportunity for all, as long as it advances or does not hinder the rollicking ambitions of America's upper echelon. The were characters who saw the dream realized, who climbed from the stink of NY slum tenements to find an America where one could transform themselves into mysterious European Baron. After all, no one questions the claims of the wealthy and successful.

Yet, a character, such the as fictitious jazz musician Coalhouse Porter would find the world of Ragtime to be a place when you could only climb as far as a community's prejudice would allow. Yet, one could not live in this time, rise a little way, and not expect a system of justice and even-mindedness to rule in your favor. The failure of the system to do satisfy, the realization of what Goldman knew all along, that the American Dream is no more than a cardboard, Hollywood set piece, is a devastating blow for those who aren't cynical enough to see it coming.

What is to be done when a entire belief system is ripped away? Some, like the father of the family at the center of the novel, waste away, while others, like Coalhouse, reveal the true, unfathomable cost to an arrogant system when it believes that all men will go so quietly.

Where, on this sad spectrum, would your reaction would fall if you were faced with a similar collapse of all in which you once held faith? If you can, drop me a line when we get there, I, for my part, will try to do the same.

The Screwtape Letters unveil the devil in my mind

About time that I finally post to the 25 books archive. My only excuse, in honor of my first post, is that the devil made me delay. The Screwtape Letters is a correspondence between two devils, which C.S. Lewis claims he happened across during his various journeys and musings.

What it is in actuality, is a reverse indoctrination to Lewis' particular brand of Christianity. It was a book that had long sat neglected upon my shelf and was finally read as a stealthy addition to my British Literature curriculum. Ahh, the pleasure of a, in many ways, former Roman Catholic exploring his religious foundations and the very reasons religion can be abandoned with public school children. Separation of Church and State my foot!

As Screwtape, the primary narrator, instructed his nephew Wormwood on the various excellent ways of corrupting a patient (any one of us), I was surprised by how often my own excuses and reasons for abandoning a christian god came flowing from the mouths of devils. Suggested as the perfect methods of corruption over and again were distraction, a skewed perspective on reality, and an overconfidence in human intelligence and understanding.

Reading Cappy's reflection on The Unbearable Lightness of Being I am reminded of another of Screwtape's corrosive ways. The devil says that it is acceptable for us to read, even extensively, the thoughts of past philosophers, as long as we regard them as something to be classified, placed coldly in reference to their own time and place, but never regarded as a possible truth. Though in the case of Cappy's introduction, Screwtape would smile widely, even better than not viewing a reading a personally relevant is to view the works of the past or of the mind as an allergen, something to be given a wide berth.

Beyond the war against religion and religious thought, the subtext of the reading is that most dangerous (if you are a devil or a suspicious former Catholic) reality: god never gives up on us. No matter how far we may wander into darker territory, Lewis reminds us that all we need to do to throw off Screwtape and his treacherous ways is recognize the god who has been invisibly by our side all along and follow him home.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

My sister, Catherine, refuses to read even Book I of Plato's Republic - and this despite my frequent proddings and protestations. Though I have never asked why not, I suspect that she, like a great many of her generation and all other generations, considers herself allergic to Philosophy. It's as though she should not dare read it for fear of bursting into hives or her throat swelling up so much as to suffocate her. Such perceived maladies have sworn too many off of "the love of wisdom."

And so we leave it up to folks like Milan Kundera to trick people into studying Philosophy against their will - dressing the ages-old discipline up as a play, a short story, or, as in this case, as a novel.

Kundera's quarry is a question of reality. What is "the real?" Is it the moments we call "light," when responsibility and concern seem to melt away as we, freed from burdens, rise slowly above the troubled world below? Or is the real world "heavy?" Are we not our truest, best, most authentic selves when life puts the screws to us and we are almost literally pushed by our burdens closer to the world on which we stand? The Philosopher calls this line of questioning "Ontology," the study of a thing's nature or origins, and she could ponder it for hours at a clip - and be ecstatic doing so.

The Philosopher wouldn't move copy, though. To do that, you have to write a story, and it's best if the story is about love. That's essentially what Kundera has done. He's written a tale of couples - Tomas and Tereza along with Franz and Sabina - and tracks the arc of their affairs through countless miscommunications, messy crossings, and an exceedingly long litany of infidelities. The couples do love each other - the author almost pulls muscles to communicate this in the face of so much evidence to the contrary - but so often one lovers affection fails to match the needs and expectations of the other. Tomas, for example, loves Tereza as though she were a gift sent to him down the river in a basket, like Moses to Pharaoh's daughter. What he doesn't seem to understand, though, is that Tereza considers sex intrinsically linked to love and struggles with Tomas' sharing a bed with so many mistresses.

Due to so much wanton sex and crushed feelings, it would be easy for The Unbearable Lightness of Being to devolve into little more than a cheap romance novel. Lucky for Kundera that love also happens to be a tried and true method of investigating and weighing philosophical truths. (Even the staid Plato wrote Symposium.) His interest in these underlying themes of lightness and weight is what saves the book from being tawdry. And it begs the reader to wonder aloud about what it is that makes them real.

We are a sneaky bunch, we Philosopher Kings. And here you thought we never left our ivory towers.

Sympathy Telepathy

"How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home."

I am just about 1/3 of the way through As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner. This is the second book on my list that is also a book I am teaching in class, and, just like the previous times I've read it, I have realized that if you read Faulkner for too long, you begin thinking like his characters. The book is told in 52 chapters, by 15 voices, with each chapter signaling a change in POV. Everytime it switches, you have to slightly rewire your brain to fit the character. Everytime you finish a chapter, you have to step out of that characters head.

I believe it is fitting then, that one of the main characters is apparently psychic (though some students proclaim he's probably just making it up). It seems so very appropriate that a character fits the same role that the reader does; to be inside the head of a boy who has watched his mother's dying breathe, but not have the words to explain, or even understand it; to see a girl watch her mother slip away, as she also, very recently find herself soon to be a mother herself. It has taken me a few times (I believe this is the fourth), but I believe i can now read this book for pleasure, with minimal extra work.

I was inspired by the quote at the beginning of this post though, and i feel it is best to be responded to. Darl is far from home, knows that is mother has passed on while he has been gone, and is laying down thinking big thoughts. Although he is one of the stranger characters (if that is even possible), I do not think it is an accident that he is the one character that audience has the most time to relate to. Inside all of us, I think there is a little crazy.

1 Dead in Attic by Chris Rose

It's a story about transformation. And even if that story has been done a thousand times before, it's never been done like this. Because this time it's real and it's for keeps.

Chris Rose is a columnist for the New Orleans Times-Picayune. Yes, that New Orleans, the one which a year and a half ago was literally inundated by a pair of massive hurricanes, a few breached levees, and a dash of bureaucratic incompetence. 1 Dead in Attic is a collection of Rose's columns from the days immediately following Hurricane Katrina through the following Mardi Gras - a short six months that the author found long on stories.

Predictably, Rose's subject covers a broad spectrum. It's the surreal, like his description of the first time back on familiar streets not so familiar anymore. It's the sad tale of young lovers who move back into the devastated town, have trouble adapting, get blasted one night, and decide to commit suicide - only one actually goes for it. And then there's the miracle of one last surviving fridge from a downtown restaurant, stuffed to the gills with the finest and freshest surf and turf, and the feast for relief workers that followed.

While Rose sees New Orleans as all this and more, mostly his vision of the city is as a place which is just too damn resilient to quit anything short of resurrection. He himself gets in on the action, morphing almost overnight from a society pages gossip columnist to a self-proclaimed war correspondent.

There is a certain poetry in the author's style, because the concepts and realities with which Rose wrestles defy any "just the facts, ma'am" approach. It's as though he cannot help but to speak in images, to pour out emotion. The words themselves are easy to read. The ideas are a little harder to consume.

Because I was away and out of the country when Katrina hit and New Orleans turned back into a swamp, there is a sizable hole in my consciousness when it comes to really understanding the magnitude of the tragedy. Having my experience of Katrina filtered through the BBC left me only a vague and faceless impression. 1 Dead in Attic has changed that.

Palestine: Peace not Apartheid by President Jimmy Carter

Jimmy Carter is not an anti-Semite!

Now that may come as a shock to the chair of the Anti-Defamation League or the Israeli prime minister, but then it would also be quite shocking if either deigned to read Palestine: Peace not Apartheid before jumping to their conclusion.

Carter's latest, most controversial book is mostly history - with a touch of memoir - but it is decidedly not screed. If the critics must quibble, they'd be wise to do so with the facts of Carter's presentation. Indeed, he invites them to do just that with a collection of appendices, seven-strong, that trace the problematic Middle East peace process across a 35-year arc - from U.N. Resolution 242 (1967) through Ariel Sharon's response to the Roadmap for Peace (2003).

Attacking the former president's integrity, though, and applying a very technical term with all the grace reserved for wielding a sledge hammer will profit the critic very little.

What is of interest to many readers wading into Palestine: Peace not Apartheid as a crash course in Middle East affairs is a question of blame. "Who is responsible," they wonder, "for the mess over there?" A careful read of Carter's book would generate a laundry list of an answer. Owing to some of its more draconian policies, Israel would be included. But the author frequently notes the disastrous contributions of the Palestinians, other Arab countries, a wide variety of paramilitary factions, and, of course, the United States government. Everyone is responsible, and Jimmy Carter would be the first to acknowledge that.

Of course, responsibility is not the former president's interest. Peace is. Very little of the text is opinion - mostly delivered in the book's final two chapters and almost wholly concerned with how to work out a lasting peace between Israel, Palestine, and the Arab world. To Carter, a man who tasted it at Camp David in 1978, peace does not seem a faraway goal. And what's more, it would be a tragedy were peace not to prevail.

I worry that I, too, made up my mind about this book before I cracked the spine. Even if that were true, though, I would still say this much to recommend it: Jimmy Carter knows of what he speaks. His stories from the region - even the most dreadful - exactly coincide with my own.

"Mr. Pirzada Comes to Dinner" and "Interpreter of Maladies"

I'm thinking that i need to read this story again as I have been unable to follow all of it. I think back to Poe's idea that a short story should be read in one sitting and Lahiri has benefited from that so far (I can easily sit and read her stories at one time, generally). The mystery of "A Temporary Matter" is not present here but her voice is enchanting. The story looks at Mr. Pirzada who is from Pakistan, while the narrator's family is from India, and it takes place during the fighting in the area of the early 80s (maybe 70s, my Indian subcontinent history is crap). He plays a weird sort of father figure to the narrator, but sadly it left little impression on me. I was reading this story in class during our independent reading time, and then, when the students write about their books, i do the same with mine. I wrote the first paragraph here and now that I look back on it, it brings little to mind. The next story, "Interpreter of Maladies", does not fail me though. This could be a matter of it being the second time I have read the story as well, which only goes to show that "Mr. Pirzada..." could still hold a place in my heart. I love this story for the hopeless romantic elements of the main character and his infatuation with the wife in the story. The views of a grossly americanized version of this Indian family is unobtrusively sad, and I fear it is too close to depiction of what the American family looks like to others. However, when Mrs. Das, the main character from the story who is unhappy in her marriage, confesses to the tour guide (whose name fails me), it becomes clear her attitude is born in selfish pity. She has wanted him to translate her anguish, to prescribe a remedy but he merely changes words; he does not offer solutions. She has wanted someone to help so much she is unable to choose the appropriate person to help her. The ultimate irony is that while she has wanted help, he has wanted her (as he too is in a passionless, arranged marriage). He gives Mrs. Das exactly what she asks for then realizes it is not what she wants, as any good penance should. The story ends with the epiphany that the tour guide/interpreter of maladies has about his own relationship with his wife, the relationship Mr. and Mrs. Das have, and the relationship he imagines between himself and Mrs. Das. The first is only a formality, the second is the same but louder, and the last is fictional. While it seems sad, there is something that should be reassuring in it, as the reality of anyone's situation should be comparable to the imaginary lives we sometimes lead in happiness. When that is out of whack too much, something needs to be done, even if it is just an acknowledgment of it. It ends well though; there are monkeys.

"I've become an unnatural self."

I think I've always been a fan of science fiction. Star Wars was as ingrained at an early age as was Catholic Doctrine; there are three aspects of God that are the holy trinity, and Darth Vader is Luke and Leia's father. Because of this fandom, on my part, I've recently wanted to read some of the more modern classics of science fiction, and when my mother-in-law gave us gift certificates for Amazon, I went SF-crazy.

I picked up Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick. This was the inspiration for Blade Runner (starring none other than Han Solo) and, though i think I've seen the movie, I don't remember half of what was in the book. Once again, I had to pick a book that made me question my own humanity, and what that word even means.

Allow me to digress. I also got a copy of The Canticle for Leibowitz which has a foreword that talks about the difference between literature and fiction. I, being a reading snob, have often wondered about the difference between these two things as well; the definition it gave was that literature changes you. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, I am happy to say, does just that.

The book is about Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter who works for the San Francisco police, tracking down rogue androids, which are now illegal on the planet Earth (there are a lot of details I'm leaving out; just read the book if you need them). As much as I felt distant from him at first, I related to the almost manic changes he seems to go through in the course of his day. He is introduced to a new type of android that is even harder to tell apart from normal humans; he is introduced to a man whom he thinks, for a moment, is an android; he breaks a "retiring" record by "killing" six androids; He sleeps with an android. Throughout the whole thing he thinks about what it is he's doing, and, although I paid little attention to it the first time, his wife's words, as the beginning of the story, resonate with him throughout the day: "just those poor andy's."

Do we feel bad for robots when they are destroyed? Now imagine that robot had feelings. What about if you got super attached to your computer, then it (and we use this term) dies. I always hated finishing books, because I had to leave them then. Those characters would go away, a reason, I believe, why I love monthly comic books. In the novel, Deckard has an electric sheep, because in the post-apocalyptic world, caring for animals is considered a duty and privilege (though also a status symbol). How much is our awareness really play a role in what we feel and experience? If you had a pet dog and it died, you'd feel sad. if you had a pet dog that was an electric dog, would you still? Now imagine not knowing whether it was or not.

That's how I feel after reading this book. There is a weird ambivalence, but at the same time I'm quite happy to realize that it is the choices that I make that allow me to feel the things I feel. It is my interest in reading books like Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? that will guarantee I may change my mind about that with the next book; only for it to evolve again with the next, and so on.

At the end of the book, to spoil part of it, Rick Deckard goes to sleep. I'm going to go do the same.

Blindness by Jose Saramago

Whither human nature - are we naturally good or do we lean toward evil - is a question as old as asking. All people ponder it and most who pick up the pen will, at some point, address it more deliberately. Enter Nobel laureate Jose Saramago and his book, Blindness.

Saramago's enterprise is to wonder aloud about who we really are, and so he follows the old proverbial wisdom and plunges his characters into the honesty of crisis: a pandemic of unexplainable and incurable white blindness. Are we the government, motivated by expediency to quarantine the stricken, even if to do so requires that we also dehumanize them? Are we a certain segment of the quarantined, drunk enough on the "will to power" to become murderous and marauding, wolves to our fellow men and women? Or are we the optometrist's wife, whose vision never fades and whose desire to shepherd the afflicted produces innumerable tiny acts of heroism? It is not at all clear precisely whom Saramago thinks we are, but it is easy to guess who he wants us to be.

Of course, to so clearly distinguish characters and groups would be to do the author a disservice. Saramago's writing is light on things like quotation marks and names that would make identification easy. His style is almost deliberately vague, and even the characters themselves acknowledge how superfluous names are in a world full of the blind. And even as anonymity makes possible all sorts of things - not all of them atrocities - enough constants remain to separate the heroes from the villains.

There is much scattered wisdom in Blindness, and as one so oft seduced by ideas I found myself sometimes just bouncing from one concept to the next. If all one could pull out of this book were some of those quotable pockets of thought, it would still be worth reading.

Interpreter of Maladies

Interpreter of Maladies is my book between books. When Ulysses is getting me down, and i'm between books for school, I will pick this book up and read some of the stories in it. It is a nice break away from the heavier stuff I've read, and it is, by no means, post-modern. It is straight up story telling, and that can be very refreshing.

The first story is "A Temporary Matter". It is about a couple who've recently lost their baby (it was born dead) and how this event effects the two of them. It all occurs around the backdrop of the electric company turning off the electricity every night for one hour, for five days.

Because the lack of light prevents them from their normal diversions from each other, they are forced to eat together, by candlelight, and play a confession game, where they each tell a secret about themselves.

As a recently wed man, this story has a powerful effect. Seeing a relationship grow/disintegrate at the same time is powerful. The couple is on the road to divorce, which , I have read, can often happen with the lost of a child (read Lorrie Moore's "People Like That are the Only People Here" from Birds of America), and from the onset of the story I wondered which of the two possible endings would be the resolution. Luckily, the author gives us a third. The story ends neither sadly, nor happily, but it does conclude, and we find out that the endings we look for are often not the endings we needed.

Ballad of the Whiskey Robber

I realize that its been a little while since my last post, which is party a function of the snow days we've been having lately. To some people, snow days would seem like an excellent excuse to curl up with a book, but, given that a large part of my reading is done in the car on the way to work, not going to work sort of impedes the progress. But, I finally finished reading Ballad of the Whiskey Robber...
On a recent visit to a Barnes & Noble to kill some time, Matt and I came across this Ballad of the Whiskey Robber, which, by the way, is a book about a Transylvanian pelt smuggling, hockey goalie, bank robber... that's also 100% true. After sneaking into Hungary from Romania (he was born in a little town in Transylvania), the Whiskey Robber (Attila Ambrus is his real name) starts working for the local hockey team, first as janitor, then Zamboni driver, and finally as a (terrible) goalie for 8 years. Throughout this period, he also becomes one of the greatest bank robbers in Hungary's history.
One of the most striking aspects of the book is that it takes place from 1988 - 2001, which is not only a time period that I actually remember (and never heard anything about this guy), but is also during the fall of Communism in Hungary. As the new, democratic, capitalist society takes hold in Hungary, it also brings with it a new wave of unemployment, desperation, and crime, which sets up the perfect scenario for a man who has nothing to lost to start robbing banks. The police force is grossly undermanned, and often has to share less than 3 working cars, and the banks are very rarely equipped with alarms or cameras.... So actually robbing the banks is not at all difficult. But Attila takes to bank robbing with a fierce dedication, carefully mapping out each location and assigning it a difficulty rating based on the number and gender of employees, cameras, and distance from the police station. Although Attila's personality contributed to his career choice (bank robber, as it says on his myspace page), the circumstances of the time definitely played a role as well. It was also interesting to read how the U.S. was (1) obsessed with the O.J. Simpson trial and Monica Lewinsky during this time period, and (2) declared Hungary to be a model country for the transition to democracy, even when 1/20 people would wake up in the morning to find their cars stolen and Attila was able to rob 29 banks over 8 years.
Arguably an even more interesting point is how much of a popular figure Attila became over the years. Due to extreme government scandal, many people saw him as an antiestablishment figure who wasn't robbing banks so much as just redistributing the wealth. Even though he never actually gave money to the poor, many people call him a "modern-day Robin Hood." And today, when I googled him, I found interviews, his myspace page (see link above; maybe I should think about finally getting one of these?), and youtube videos with comments from people who love him. He is currently serving a 17 year prison sentence in a maximum security prison, but people all over the world celebrate his birthday (October 6) by toasting him with some whiskey.
Its another example of a book with characters with a grossly different perspective on the world... And a good framework in which to think about the influence of circumstance on one's path in life. Even as Attila starts to break down from being on the lam for so long, he continues to rob banks (albeit usually sloppily drunk) because it is the only way he can think of to procure enough money to leave the country. "It is an ironic habit of human beings to run faster when we have lost our way." -Rollo May, psychologist (1909-1994)

Alpha Girls - Dan Kindlon

After reading Stressed Out Girls the beginning of this year, this book left me refreshed. It justified the new-age, driven, female perfection we see so often. Let's face it, almost all my AP class is girls.

An alpha girl"
"1. a GPA of 3.8 or higher
2. At least one leadership position ........
3. Participation in extra curricular activities, in or out of school, for a min. of 10h a week
4. High achievement motivation score..
5. High self-rating for dependability...."

While many books, especially pop-psych books, leave females feeling victim of their time and power, this one left me hopeful. The working definition of feminism (as more equal than overpowering and "damn the man") and the role of positive media were pleasant surprises.

Yes, another psych book for Abbie's reviews.. but this one makes you kinda smile, and feel more normal for wanting to take over the world....

Ulysses: Since Last Time

I am still working my way through Ulysses, though it has taken a decrease lately as Sarah has had a lot of work (she is the student who is reading it now as well), and I've had a lot of prep stuff and grad school stuff to get through. I'd decided to read Interpreter of Maladies a bit more as it is a collection of short stories, and is significantly easier to work through.

But just this morning I decided I needed to get back to Bloom and his day of semi-infamy. I'm also inspired by Charlie telling me to quit summarizing and mention something of interest. To this I can merely say, "try reading the book again, and saying that to my face." At this point Charlie would roundhouse kick me about the skull; he is a black belt, and I am fearful.

I was stuck on Episode 7 of Ulysses, "Aeolus". In the Odyssey this is when Odysseus' men happen to release the bad winds (tee hee) which causes the crew, who is almost home, to get blown drastically off course. This is transferred, in Joyce's novel, to the office of The Telegraph, a Dublin newspaper where Bloom is trying to place an advertisement. As he goes from man to man trying to get this simple task done, he is blown about, unable to speak with any given character for very long.

As I'd briefly mentioned in an earlier post, the book does a good job of causing the reader to experience the same thing as the characters. I may not completely grasp every nuance of the story, but I know how Odysseus must have felt, having seen the end of his journey, only to be thwarted. I can see the end of this chapter, but can't seem to get to it. I myself was drastically blown off course upon first reading, but luckily I kept my fortitude. I've turned the boat around, adjusted the sails, and am slowly plowing the boat on.

300: Minutes and Men

I love comic books. I love superheroes, and horror comics, and magic comics and all that jazz. Comics often do things that few other mediums can do ("it's pictures and words, you can do anything with picture and words"). I collect them in monthly floppy format; I buy them in collection as trade paperbacks; I buy them as original graphic novels. It is a fascinating medium. It also, usually, doesn't take very long to read. I read one this weekend in less than 300 minutes.

Frank Miller's 300 is the story of 300 Spartan soldiers at the Battle of Thermopylae. Miller is most famous for Sin City and his Batman series The Dark Night Returns; 300 is similar in feeling, though not in content. While Miller is largely known for crime work, it is not the crime element that he does so well, but the toughness of the characters; and there are few tougher than the Spartans.

His style is very bare. He both wrote and drew this story and he uses the images to tell a lot, which reflects the Spartan action over Spartan words. The book has every element of a good drama (and will make a great movie this March). It has strong characters that you can get behind while not completely liking; it has smart characters that speak plainly but simply; it has blood. Lots of blood. This is not nice neat war, this is dirty war. This is kill a man and use him as shield; kill many men and build a wall. When the Persians come to fight the Spartans they know what will happen if they die.

The battle stems from Spartan pride, and, having little knowledge of how Greece worked at the time, a sense of united Greece. The Spartans know they are not Athenians (pussies!), but they see the valuable of each of the different states that made up Greece, and they fight for that. Repeatedly, King Leonidas talks about how Greeks are freemen, as opposed to the Persians who are following the Man-God Xerxes. Xerxes himself is a likable character as he only asks for the King to say that Xerxes is a step higher than Leonidas (with almost no other requirements). Leonidas, however, is free, and is willing to fight for that freedom.

I won't give away the end, but you can do the math (300 vs. 10,000). The book ultimately shows victory is defined by an individual, even in times of war, and treaties are not always the only prizes in war. It also shows how damn good comics can be, and that people should read them more.

Soldiers are dreamers

Alright... its time for me to sit down and finally write a post on Going After Cacciato, a novel by Tim O'Brien about the men in the Vietnam war and how they coped (or didn't). Although I technically finished the book on Saturday, its taken me four days just to get my thoughts together to try and write a cogent review. Well, more specifically, even though the book is a lot to take intellectually, its rather tough on the emotional side as well. Tim O'Brien does such a good job at crafting really believable, human characters that reading about their suffering and deaths is not particularly easy. Plus, because about half the story takes place in one of the character's imagination, which means that I spent a fair amount of time confused (see this post). After each chapter I had to pause and spend a few minutes thinking, which slowed down the reading considerably.
In brief, the book is about a soldier, Paul Berlin, who is stationed at an observation post, and keeps watch throughout the night. Another soldier in his platoon, Cacciato, decides to go AWOL, headed for Paris. About half of the book takes place in Paul Berlin's imagination as he accompanies his platoon to Paris, chasing after Cacciato, but there are plenty of flashbacks to things that really did happen. And lots of war stories. There was a lot to think about, but I'll mention 5 things that I wrote down in my black book of thoughts that struck me as worth spending more time thinking about...
1. At one point in his imagined tale, the platoon ends up in jail... an almost inescapable predicament, because they have no money or passports, and are scheduled to die the next morning. Paul Berlin seems unable to immediately work a way out of this scenario, and says:

"You could run, but you couldn't outrun the consequences of running.Not even in
imagination."

I'll admit that I'm somewhat of an escapist myself, which is likely why this little phrase stuck out. And, rather than the hang-in-there sort of cat hanging on a wash line message, but just a realistic reason to not run away from things...

2. The advice Paul Berlin's father gave him before he left:

You'll see some terrible stuff, sure, but try to look for the good things.
Try to learn.

Which I think is pertinent advice not only for being in Vietnam, but also making it through the day. Although I feel fairly skilled at the trying to learn part, I need to keep working on the looking for the good business. Which is really one of the most poignant messages about the book... if Paul Berlin can keep his head somewhat together in the middle of a war-torn jungle, I should be able to do it while I'm sitting on my couch in my pajamas.

3. There is an interesting imaginary conversation that Paul Berlin has with a Vietnamese girl who he is trying to help. Paul is trying to understand how the Vietnamese feel about the war, and wants her to understand that he was just following orders, was drafted, and doesn't really know what's going on any more than she does. But, in the conversation he asks:

What did she want? How did she see the war? What were her aims - peace, any
peace, peace with dignity? ... Peace and quiet? Peace and pride? Peace with
mashed potatoes and Swiss steak and vegetables, a full-tabled peace, indoor
plumbing, a peace with Oldsmobiles and Hondas and skyscrapers climbing from the fields , a peace of order and harmony and murals on public buildings?

More on peace to come in item #5, but I'm going chronologically in the book, so this quote will occupy the #3 position...

4. Paul Berlin learns some important lessons from his time in Vietnam:

It hurts to be shot. Dead men are heavy. Don't seek trouble, it'll find you
soon enough.

In times of extreme stress, life tends to boil down to a few simple facts like this.

5. And finally:

As happiness is not just the absence of sadness, peace is not just the
absence of war.

I find the concept of "peace" interesting... Is not being attacked regularly the definition of peace? Does peace imply freedom? Can people be forced to live in peace? Would people choose to live in peace without being forced to? Lots of questions to keep pondering...

So... this post is getting terribly long... The book is tough, a little slow, and somewhat confusing (particularly in the beginning), but I think there's a lot of good stuff in there that makes it worth the effort.

Thin

So, honest is best. I bought this book because I have a swimmer on every team I've coached who has had an eating problem. I look back at my high school career as a distance runner, and have realized that I didn;t eat nearly enough to fuel my body, or enough of the right foods (I worry how many female athletes never realize this, because it's so subconscience). I never had a full-blown eating problem, but I did know the skinny= faster equation, and while scared of it, did my best to hold by its standards. Not any diagnosable criteria, I realize now, but no healthy. Every anal athlete should have a set of goals each day as it pretains to nutrition....

My health was never a question, and I was not in danger. Not the case in some of my atheletes, no the people you met in "Thin." Danger, fear, worry. Behold the power of pictures. So scary. So true. It oly makes me worry more... and not ot be too dramatic, but how much time peoplewho suffer from this have left.

The book is a mix of had and type- written notes, and pictures, based on a HBO documentary. It's all too real. And sad.

Welcome To My Country by Lauren Slater

I am drawn to memoirs, especially associated with mental illness. To be inside the head of someone suffering from a disorder allows for a level of understanding that is unmatched by textbook facts on symptoms and treatments.

"Welcome to my country" is 80% wonderful. Lauren is a first-year counselor in a group home for schizophrenic men. Her fears-to-concerns-to-comfort spectrum show the emotions we've been warned first-year counselors go through "is this good enoug" "can i really help" "why are there no results".....

The problem with a memoir is that there's a part of a person that you really don't care about-- you still get it in writing, and have to schlep through it to get to the parts you like. Flashbacks to her adolescent, eating disorder years and her own desire for control just as her patients strive for it as well worried me-- not that everyone magically becomes perfect when they've gotten an MA or PhD, but that if these issues are resolved, tehy should not play so actively into the counseling relationship.

The family history her patients present makes you worry and think all at once. Some mental disorders are so engranded in envornment, others spring up randomly. Makes you never want to have kids, really.

Bottom line: I have total respect for those who do, but no desire to work with scizophrenics. Or in a group home. A dorky delicacy, but not for typical consumption..

Into the Wild: the Conclusion

So today is the march for life, so a lot of students are out. Because of this I am allowing my students to have a reading day. I think reading is important, and if we don’t model it for them, they see no reason to do it, so there I am, in my chair, front of the room, reading with them. I just finished Into the Wild for the second time, and I’m nearly crying. There are few surprises in the book, especially after having already read it, but there is still something that speaks to the reader, particularly if the reader feels for Chris McCandless.

As the cover states, in April of 1992, Chris McCandless walked into the Alaskan Wilderness after tramping around the country for two years. His body was found four months later. The mystery that builds is not a question of what happened to McCandless as much as why did it happen, and why did he do it. The story of McCandless has resonated with my students, but a large number of them cannot fathom why a man would do these things; the first answer is almost always “mental illness”. What could inspire a man to leave his family, give up his money and most of his belongings, for some grand dream of … something? Krakauer looks to the story of Chris, the people he met along his “quest”, the journal he wrote throughout, as well as the accounts of other men who’ve gone on similar journeys to try to get an answer; he goes so far as to tell his own story of hubris in trying to climb The Devil’s Thumb.

I have to say I admire what McCandless did. I could not leave my wife, or abandon my family the way he does; I also, however, see this as one of the downsides of relationship in general. I am big on freedom and choosing ones own path, but with that comes the realization, at least for me, that I must give up some of my freedoms for other things. McCandless simply does not do this, and the reason most would disagree with him is because it is easier for them to identify with the victims of this choice: the family and friends that are left behind. By becoming angry with McCandless for being selfish in his decision only supports the selfish views of the people that say he is selfish. “How could he do that do his family” could easily be argued with “how could his family prevent him from doing what he needed to do.”

I don’t think I would ever go off into the wild to live by myself, on my own, or even could. I would however love to find out how to live a bit more independently, and I don’t think my wife would completely disagree. We like having access to people, but don’t like having them around all the time, and McCandless, at his roots, believed the same thing (as witnessed in his constant relationships and repeated returns to society).

I would love being able to live independently; without a need for a job, or so many of the requirements that we really seem to put upon ourselves. And I, like the man, Rosellini, from the book, believe that humans may have gone too far (at least Americans) in that we can no longer live solely off the land. We have become a powerful tribe that needs the people around them to survive. I don’t like needing; I’ve always preferred wanting.

Who is Cacciato?

I'm really confused... I know, I know... Book #5 was supposed to be lighter and all, but it is definitely not. Exhibit A is the fact that its been almost a week since I finished my last book, because it has really taken some effort to get into Going After Cacciato, which I'm really only about 20% of the way into right now. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that it has taken some effort to get Going After Cacciato. I thought it would be a nice contrast to The Eden Express, since they both happen at essentially the same time, they're both pretty male-centric, and most of the story happens in the woods. I didn't realize that they both also have pretty heavy themes of distinguishing reality from perception. It is definitely not a book to only read just before bed. Partly because I need more brain power than I typically have by that time of night, and also partly because its not at all good for having pleasant dreams. I really like Tim O'brien and his descriptions of the humanity of the Vietnam War, which makes it significantly easier to get into, and I trust that it'll start to come together as we go along here... But at the moment, I'm confused.

The Non-Designer’s Design Book

I think that we all know good design when we see it, but what are the basic visual principles that are common to good design? And how can I become more creative with my own work?

The Non-Designer's Design Book, by Robin Williams, is one of the most practical, useful books I have read in my entire life. I refer to it just about every other week, and it never fails to inspire and inform me to new heights of visual creativity. Whether you create documents for business or pleasure, you would do well to read this accessible and charming guide to the basics of typography and document design. The book is filled with easy-to-understand illustrations of the principles she teaches, and the author even provides you with quizzes to test your understanding.

The first part of the book is organized according to the four principles of design: Proximity, Alignment, Repetition, and Contrast. In the second part, she addresses the basics of type setting, such as how to achieve “contrast” instead of “conflict.” After reading this book, I use font size more boldly and occasionally accent my handouts with scripts. The author’s promise, made on the back of the book, has actually come true for me: I feel that my documents look more professional, organized, unified, and interesting. And I myself feel more empowered!

Philosophers and pseudo-intellectuals out there will also find the book refreshing. Is art truly in the eye of the beholder? What does font choice say about a person, a time period, a culture? To what extent can layout be used to make an argument, and how does it affect the way we read text?

I used to think that personal preference played a much larger role in determining the appeal of an image or design, but the author provides insights that seem universal. In the examples she provides, it’s hard to disagree with her rationale for choosing one layout over another, and yet you still leave the book feeling that there are infinite possibilities for creativity. (After all, if it really were that cut and dry, there would only be a few good designs out there, right?)

This book has lead me to the broader realization that many plans and projects fail not by effort or ability, but by design. And this is why you cannot afford to miss out on advice like the kind provided in this book.

- Charlie

Introducing... Charlie!

I have accepted the invitation of Matt and Kate to join this project, because I admire their intentions and because I had already planned on reading a few books myself this year. You might think of me as their sidekick – they will take on 25 books each, and myself more like 10. Although I begin without anywhere near the same level of commitment, I hope that my posts will be worth the time it takes to read them.

I should note briefly why this is such an unusual project for me. I tend to read like a scavenger – bits and pieces, a chapter here, ten pages there – from about ten or fifteen books at a time. Finishing an entire book, for me, is quite rare.

Anyways, on to the readings!

Ulysses: Episodes 4 & 5

Episode 4 introduces us to Mr. Leopold Bloom who likes fried kidneys because the slight taste of urine that they have. Leopold is making Molly, his wife, breakfast while she remains in bed, and he craves kidney (they are out). I know this feeling. Often time I’ve been making breakfast (I am the breakfast maker, Kate prefers making the other meals usually) and I’ll crave sausage, also because of its unique taste. Sometimes I will even run out to the store for that specific purpose, which is exactly what Bloom does. The stroll to Buckley’s shop (this is the second book I’ve read with a “Buckley” in it) is well described and the reader gets a hint that Bloom is specifically trying not to think of something in regards to his wife. When he returns, he fries up the kidney, serves his wife breakfast, and proceeds to… relieve himself… no… do #2… no too crude as well. You get the point. While reading on the toilet he also speaks about the death of a friend, whose funeral is the focal point of the sixth episode, “Hades”.

Episode 5 sees Leopold taking a circuitous route through Dublin on his way to the post office where he gets a mystery letter from a wannabe lover of his. Again, Bloom tries to control his thinking; whenever negative thoughts of Molly pop into his head, he quickly seems to notice any and everything around him. He ends up at the Turkish baths where he buys some soap and makes his way home.

Describing this book makes it sound ridiculous, and I know I am doing it a great disservice. At the moment, these foul and sparse notes are really the best I can do, which is kind of sad. It is so much fun reading this book because of the amount of work and concentration it takes. It, like The Dead Father, is more about the act of reading, then the story itself. The way that Joyce juxtaposes the Odyssey with Bloom’s day should make everyone feel that their days are vastly meaningful; unfortunately, if you can’t make that leap, I can definitely see where a person would not enjoy this book.

“I can’t go on, I’ll go on”

Matt meant to send this email to Charlie

From: Kate Buckley [mailto:kshank@gwu.edu]
Sent: Tuesday, January 16, 2007 5:49 PM
To: 'Matt Buckley'
Subject: Ulysses

Ulysses is really good book. Its about a guy who does stuff. Its long as shit. That’s what I think about Ulysses.


What are you talking about?

From: Matthew Buckley [mailto:mattbuckley80@comcast.net]
Sent: Tuesday, January 16, 2007 5:34 PM
To: 'Kate Buckley'
Subject: Ulysses

Send me essay on Ulysses

Buckley

"It is better to travel hopefully than arrive"

The Eden Express, writte by Mark, son of Kurt, Vonnegut makes me think that I too am starting to lose my mind. The book is Mark's memoir, a hippie who graduated from college in 1969 (the same year Slaughterhouse Five was published), and then fled from his suburban life and famous father on the East Coast to middle of nowhere British Columbia to start a small farm/commune with a pile of his hippie friends and his dog, Zeke. And, the story of his schizophrenic breakdown. Likely due in part to his hippie thinkings, he tended to blame most of his early symptoms on the breakdown of civilization... "A sane response to an insane society."
At the start of the book, Mark is easy to relate to (especially for me right now, because I'm so tired of the city and the traffic and the people and the traffic and a farm sounds like total heaven). The first half of the book is about him finding people and land to establish the farm. After doing much more wandering than I would probably have the nerve to do, they find 80 acres only accessible by boat and move in.
Thanks in no small part to the influence of plenty of drugs, Mark starts to lose grip on reality.... He believes that he was responsible for an earthquake in California, and his father's suicide (which he imagined... Kurt is still alive and kicking), and, at some points, that his own suicide will resolve these problems. But I think that the oddest thing about the whole tale is that, Mark believes that the reason he is hearing the voices in his head is that he is finally able to tune in to them, and that this is a good thing. The voices are the result of ESP or mysticism or some other unknown realm, and his hallucinations are visions rather than biochemical reactions. And, in context, these seem like completely rational thoughts... That's what's scary about it.
The descriptions of his breakdowns seem so lucid that its easy to forget that he was losing his mind. But he seems to accurately describe the torture of the whole episode... losing 40 pounds, not sleeping for weeks at a time, convulsing... As he says "If there is such a thing as hell, and its anything like some of the things I went through when I was nuts, and you can acoid it by doing things as pretty as not coveting your neighbor's ass, by all means, DO NOT COVET YOUR NEIGHBOR'S ASS."
I'm totally into books right now that provide perspectives on things... walking a mile in a schizo hippie's shoes definitely provides new perspective. And as much as I enjoy when it when my brain is going 1000 miles a minute, the book makes me appreciate the quiet moments a little more.
Maybe book #5 will be a little lighter?

Ulysses: Episodes 1-3

So you know how Ulysses is credited as both the best book and one of the most difficult books ever written; they were kind of right. I've finished the first three episodes of the book (Telemachus, Nestor, Proteus) and am currently intrigued though little has happened. It seems to be the Seinfeld of the literary world. It seems to be about nothing.

Episode 1 introduces us to Buck Mulligan, who lives in a tower with Stephen Dedalus and a man named Haines. Buck is a bit of a prick but is totally aware of it, as opposed to Haines who is seems clueless to his own behavior. I found the episode relatively easy to read, although a quick gander at spark notes has since made me feel like i may have missed the last part of the chapter.

Episode 2 shows Stephen teaching at Mr. Deasy's school and there is an interesting conversation between Stephen and his student, Sargent. Sargent is not very good in school, and wrote his numbers (?) as a punishment. Stephen asks if he is able to do so without copying from the board and the boy says no. In the ineptitude of the boy, Stephen sees a shade of himself; he also compares how the boy's mother must love him to the relationship Stephen had with his now dead mother. This is a continual reference; Stephen did not pray with his mother and has not yet fully reconciled how he feels about her death in regards to this (Buck's aunt has also blamed the death on Stephen because he would not pray).

Episode 3 was tough and I think I wasn't quite prepared for it. It is non-narrative and takes place largely inside Stephen's head. I am unsure what is more unsettling: reading an entire chapter and not always being sure of what was going on, or reading a chapter of a character's thoughts and being able to follow it perfectly, if only at times.

This is the end of the episodes that focus on Dedalus, and from here the action apparently shifts to Leopold Bloom. I fear that this blog will sound pathetic as I am obviously missing quite a bit in regards to the book. I'm happy to be reading it, as I love Joyce, but I am continually reminded of how i did not get Portrait of the Artist on first reading, and, once again, am already looking to reread a book on this list.

Next book is going to be an easy one.

The Dead Father is Dead; Long Live the Dead Father

That was certainly an adventure.

Barthelme's The Dead Father was an enjoyable, albeit perplexing read. Since my last update the group read aloud the Manual for Sons which discusses various aspects of fatherhood and what types of fathers you should look out for (the falling father being one of the most dangerous). It was in this section of the book that I found the quote that inspired me to get the book itself:

"He is mad about being small when you were big, but no that's not it, he is mad about being helpless when you were powerful, but no not that either, he is mad about being contingent when you were necessary, not quite it, he is insane because when he loved you, you didn't notice."

This largely sums up the purpose of the book-within-a-book as the fathers are often there to bother their sons. The startling conclusion, however, is that it is also the son's job to become the father, but to try to water down the role.

The chapters directly after quickly conclude the book. A horsemen who has been following the group is revealed, and quickly, as her name/position would imply, is sent away. Julie and Thomas have the most sterile and mechanical sex scene I have ever read, and the ways that people can make life so routine is revealed in the same way that humans can most affectionately express themselves. The book ends as one might expect, though it still is a bit unsettling.

Though a quick read, it deserves some time, and it would be a good idea to have a notebook or journal handy while you're reading. There are things that fascinated me that i know i am not recalling simply because there were so many additional things that ended up stealing my attention. This is the book that makes me wish i was in a "20-Century American Novel" class as I am sure it deserves more company.

Kitchen

The inside jacket of the book, mentions a phenomenon called "Bananamania" which I think is an awful name that describes what happened in Japan when Kitchen, written by Banana Yoshimoto was released. The book was huge there. I'll admit to being a little skeptical when I picked it up, and to partly picking it up because its on the short side and I'm trying to get through 25 books here. But, I wasn't really expecting to read it in one day, or to pretend to be working at my desk while I was really reading the damn thing. It's a really excellent little piece of fiction.
I think the thing that strikes me most about it is the disconnect between what the book is actually about, and the feelings that it leaves you with. Unlike Memories of My Melancholy Whores, which has a disturbing plot, and leaves you feeling rather disturbed, Kitchen is full of death and loneliness, yet leaves you feeling full of hope (not the Hallmark kind) and slightly amused. The book is actually divided into two separate stories (I guess the might technically be considered novellas). The first is about young people living in Tokyo who become orphans, and the second is about a girl whose boyfriend of 4 years dies suddenly and how she is coping with the grief. (See, sounds depressing, doesn't it?) The narration is honest and refreshing. There are are funny bits, and the author puts to words feelings that everyone has but is unable to clearly communicate (for example, I too have an unnatural love of kitchens).
I can't really think of anything else specific to say about it, other than that we only bought the book because we came across a cheap copy at a used book store in Ithaca, NY on our honeymoon (almost three years ago), and Charlie told Matt he should read it. And I'm annoyed that I didn't read it until now. See, this 25 book thing is starting to work (just don't tell my adviser about the whole reading in the lab thing...)
3 down... time to find #4

The Hobbit

I'll just come right out and say it. I love J.R.R. Tolkien. I loved the books when I was in fourth grade, and I still think they're great. I got the whole way through The Hobbit in about a week, and most nights, Matt had to force me to put down the book because I likely would have stayed up all night reading it. His mode of story telling is so descriptive that its easy to envision the hobbit's journey exactly. And, it's easy to identify with each of the characters in some way or other... The hobbit's humility and fear of leaving home, the dwarves love of song and treasure, the elves and their magical grace, and even the eagles and their unwillingness to get involved in the petty battles of the land creatures.
That being said, its hard for me to read the book without thinking about how it translates to film... something I'm not normally fond of doing, but is difficult to avoid, considering that our next Lord of the Rings Day is only 337 days away. And I'm not sure that it will make as good of a movie as the Lord of the Rings trilogy did. Mostly because, in the trilogy, the demarcation between good and evil is blatantly clear. But in The Hobbit, there are points when the main characters (a troop of 13 dwarves) acts stubborn enough that even I get a little tired of them. And the dragon (the main foe in the book) is killed by a character that we meet about three paragraphs before and know very little about. So, even if it does make a decent film, I'm not sure we'll be willing to extend LOTR day from 12 to 16 hours for it.... that remains to be seen.
Along those lines, though, the contrast between my reading of the book this time and last time (fourth grade) is also interesting, because I can now put the book in the context of the Lord of the Rings trilogies, whereas last time I read it as an isolated tale. It gives a little more weight to when Bilbo acquires the ring. And, there is a great story about when Bilbo names his sword Sting in a fight with a giant spider. Although the ring itself plays a pretty big role in the book, it acts more as a trinket that allows Bilbo to escape from some nasty situations due to being invisible. Getting the ring from Gollum is really more interesting because of the riddles the two pass back and forth rather than the monumental event that it ended up being for the people of Middle Earth.
And with that exceptionally dorky comment, I am going to end this post... But, I'll say that the book is an excellent little escape from reality, particularly when you're looking for themes of gathering the courage (and luck) to leave home, and the joy of returning to it after a long journey. Or, if you just want to laugh at some funny dwarf songs.

The Dead Father: Half way to the yellow stuff

The title does fit the chapters, I swear.

I am just past the half way mark of The Dead Father and I cannot wait to be able to read this book again. I see something of great value in it, but am just not quite there yet. It is an adventure in itself as the reader is thrown into a world that doesn't quite make sense and is forced to figure it out. Everytime I understand a societal relationship a little better I have a bit of pride in my accomplishment.

What, might you ask, is The Dead Father? No, you'd never ask this question because you would assume, as did a fellow co-worker today, that the book is about a father who is dead. This is half correct. The Dead Father is one of the main characters, and he is a jerk. He is a part-man, part-machine being that changes size. Sometimes he is giant and goes on killing sprees. Sometimes he is more manageable and simple demands impossible things from his "children". I assume they are his children as the Dead Father seems to create much. My favorite creation is the deity Libet, as explained in an earlier post.

There is something attractive about the usual simplicity of the language. The confusion comes from the language as well though, as there are assumptions that the reader knows things that the reader cannot. The book is "highly symbolic", but I am not quick to infer what the symbols represent. The Dead Father seems to be the dead father figure of the 1950s. The one that takes the credit for creation, and passes the blame on the rearing. The book was written in 1974, so I'm not sure how much that image of the father had disappeared. In that sense the Dead Father, being still alive, would seem more closely to represent an image that needed to be dead.

The side characters are also interesting though ambiguous. Emma, Thomas and Julie are the main ones, but there are more characters with equally usual names, and differentiation can be difficult. This is the type of book that I should be taking reading notes on; I am trying to convince myself that I'm doing it for fun though, so I refuse.

Juxtaposed to Kate's most recent Marquez read, this book has much happening, but with less plot. Each chapter is an episode in dragging the Dead Father to a land, whose name escapes me, so that he can recharge.

80 pages to go and I can't wait to read it again.

From The Dead Father:

"The deity Libet who does not know what to do and is thus an inspiration to up all."

Memories of My Melancholy Whores

I realize that the title of this book may lead you to think that its an odd present for Matt to buy me for Christmas, but, for some reason, the book struck him as one I might like, and, he was right. Written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who (as the cover isn't shy to admit) also wrote One Hundred Years of Solitutde, and Love in the Time of Cholera, neither of which I have read in the past, the book is about a man in his ninetieth year who decides that his 90th birthday present to himself will be a virgin. The main character is just barely likeable... he lives by himself, and has paid every one of the hundreds of women he has slept with. Yet, upon seeing the 14 year old virgin, Delgadina, who he managed to secure in no small part due to the vast sums previously spent in the brothels, he falls in love with her, and his life is upended. From then on, his weekly newspaper column changes from a monologue about growing old alone to a romantic love letter to Delgadina; he stops listening to classical music and starts listening to boleros; and he can no longer read the classics, but instead switched to romantic writings. His love for her gives him the strength to confront his inner self for the first time, revealing that he "appears generous in order to conceal my meanness, that I pass myself off as prudent because I am evil-minded... that I am punctual only to hide how little I care about other people's time."
Not much really happens in the book, to be honest, but the prose is beautifully poetic and almost hypnotizes you into reading the whole thing (I basically read it in one sitting). Even the strange "relationship" between the 90-year old man and the 14-year old girl stopped being quite as disturbing by the end of the book. Although the main character isn't someone I would normally empathize with, the narration itself is so honest and human that its hard not to get sucked in. Although at the moment, I'll admit that I'm more focused on the girl in the story and the changes that love brings to his life, even as he retains his cynical side, the story also reveals the character's fears and concerns about aging and death, which I imagine will become more poignant in years to come.
In the end, Memories of My Melancholy Whores is a clever story about growing old, finding love, and remembering to confront your inner self periodically, even when you're terrified you're not going to find someone you particularly care for.

Into the Wild: Ch. 8-10

In Ch. 8-10 there is a shift in the book from telling the audience about Chris McCandless to telling them about various other people that resemble McCandless. There is then a very quick chapter that records his "death announcement". This being the second time I've read the book, it is so interesting to see, more in detail, how it is crafted.

Introduction

Kate and I, after hearing about the 80 books that President Bush read in 2006 have decided to try to start small, and do just the same. We will both attempt to read 25 books, while working (and not being president...yet). We are including a few books we started in '06 in late December, but we'll be sure to make it all even out in the end.

I (Matt) will be working in three categories at first. I will be reading The Dead Father by Donald Barthelme for my personal book; a student and I will be reading Joyce's Ulysses over the course of the next two quarters; I'll also include books that I read for classes that I'm teaching (Into the Wild by John Krakauer at the moment).

Kate will be going much faster as she will do a book at a time. Her first book is already finished (it took me awhile to get this set up) and it was Gabriel Garcia Marquez's new book Memories of My Melancholy Whores. She is now currently reading The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien.

Expect updates from each of us as we get a chance to read a bit.