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)

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.

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.

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.

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.