- Sons and Other Flammable Objects | Porochista Khakpour (good) - 12.29.09
- An Invisible Sign of My Own | Aimee Bender (good) - 11.16.09
- We Were Here | Matt de la Pena (very good) - 11.02.09
- Saint Joan | Bernard Shaw (good) - 10.29.09
- The God of Small Things | Arundhati Roy (great) - 10.27.09
- The Power and the Glory | Graham Greene (great) - 10.21.09
- Remains of the Day | Kazuo Ishiguro (repeat) - 10.14.09
- To The Lighthouse | Virginia Woolf (good) - 10.01.09
- Olive Kitteridge | Elizabeth Strout (amazing) - 09.25.09
- Kushiel's Mercy | Jacqueline Carey (very good) - 09.10.09
- The Guersney Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society | Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows (okay) - 08.29.09
- Living Dead Girl | Elizabeth Scott (okay) - 08.27.09
- The Perks of Being a Wallflower | Stephen Chbosky (good) - 08.25.09
- Shadow of the Wind | Carlos Ruiz Zafon (very good) - 08.23.09
- Love, Rosie | Cecelia Ahern (good) - 08.22.09
- Oryx and Crake | Margaret Atwood (good) - 08.10.09
- The Raw Shark Texts | Steven Hall (good) - 08.03.09
- Dreams From My Father | Barack Obama (good) - 07.25.09
- Audacity of Hope | Barack Obama (good) - 07.19.09
- The Border of Truth | Victoria Redel (good) - 06.28.09
- Unaccustomed Earth | Jhumpa Lahiri (amazing) - 06.19.09
- The Red Tent | Anita Diamant (very good) - 06.10.09
- Silver Phoenix | Cindy Pon (good) - 06.05.09
- Girls for Breakfast | David Yoo (very good) - 05.08.09
- American Eyes | ed. Lori Carlson (okay) - 05.07.09
- American Born Chinese | Gene Yang (very good) - 05.06.09
- The Shadow Catcher | Marianne Wiggins (good) - 05.01.09
- The Hunger Games | Suzanne Collins (very good) - 04.30.09
- Nisei Daughter | Monica Sone (good) - 04.22.09
- Blood Meridian | Cormac McCarthy (very good) - 04.21.09
- The Road | Cormac McCarthy (repeat) - 04.20.09
- A Certain Slant of Light | Laura Whitcomb (good) - 04.10.09
- Crank | Ellen Hopkins (good) - 04.06.09
- Loverboy | Victoria Redel (good) - 04.03.09
- The Brief History of the Dead | Kevin Brockmeier (great) - 04.01.09
- Sarah's Key | Tatiana de Rosnay (very good) - 03.31.09
- You or The Invention of Memory | Jonathan Baumbach (good) - 03.29.09
- The Toughest Indian in the World | Sherman Alexie (very good) - 03.25.09
- Cut | Patricia McCormick (okay) - 03.20.09
- Sammy and Juliana in Hollywood | Benjamin Alire Saenz (good) - 03.18.09
- The Reader | Bernhard Schlink (good) - 03.11.09
- Catcher in the Rye | J.D. Salinger (very good) - 03.09.09
- Housekeeping | Marilynne Robinson (good) - 03.08.09
- Outliers | Malcom Gladwell (good) - 03.04.09
- Deenie | Judy Blume (okay) - 02.25.09
- Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas | Hunter S. Thompson (okay) - 02.18.09
- The Outsiders | S.E. Hinton (okay) - 02.17.09
- The Country Between Us | Carolyn Forche (good) - 02.11.09
- The Secret of the Old Clock | Carolyn Keene (fun) - 02.10.09
- Edinburgh | Alexander Chee (very good) - 02.07.09
- The Maytrees | Annie Dillard (good) - 02.05.09
- Play It Like It Lays | Joan Didion (good) - 02.03.09
- The Tower Treasure | Franklin W. Dixon (fun) - 02.03.09
- Howl | Allen Ginsberg (eh) - 01.27.09
- Alice in Wonderland | Lewis Carroll (good) - 01.25.09
- Queen of the Darkness | Anne Bishop (good) - 01.11.09
- Heir to the Shadows | Anne Bishop (good) - 01.05.09
- Daughter of the Blood | Anne Bishop (good) - 01.04.09
Friday, January 1, 2010
Books Devoured in 2009
This was a good year for books, aided by school reading:
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sometimes quirky isn't enough.
I recently read Aimee Bender's An Invisible Sign of My Own. I'd never read any of her short stories, but since I'm more of a novel person anyway, I decided to pick up her novel when I saw it on sale at The Strand. I've heard her stories are very strange in their content, the things that happen, and so I was interested to see how this voice translates into a novel.
From the very beginning, I could tell that this was going to be a very quirky novel. The character is strange in the way she is, and the rest of the novel is infused with that strangeness. I like it, because it's strange and fresh and interesting, and I found myself curious about the protag and what she was up to, because anything could go. Ultimately, I enjoyed the novel, especially the way it ended. However, after reading a couple of her short stories, I think she was more successful in sustaining the voice in her short stories than in the novel. The primary problem that I see is that the detachment we feel for a character in a short story due to the weirdness is hard to translate over in a novel. You can get away with not caring for a character in a story, but in a novel it's much more difficult. It's not that I disliked Mona, but I found it hard to get into her head and completely empathize with her, which sometimes meant that I wasn't as compelled to keep reading. I also wanted to get to know the science teacher more, and the kids sometimes felt bratty to me, which made me resent Mona for not being more in control (and for doing something crazy like have an ax in her classroom). I think these are all elements I'd have been okay with in a short story, but in a novel, I needed for some internal working order that wasn't completely clear to me. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it, and it was a fast read. It was definitely different, which made it fun to examine and look at, and some of the ideas inside are so off the wall, that I appreciated them. I also love how it comes full circle, with the beginning story being retold at the end in a different fashion. That to me was a bit of brilliance on Bender's part. Her prose is also really fresh and fun, which makes the read a good read. She is supposedly working on a new novel, so it will be interesting to see if some of these issues are resolved a bit.
From the very beginning, I could tell that this was going to be a very quirky novel. The character is strange in the way she is, and the rest of the novel is infused with that strangeness. I like it, because it's strange and fresh and interesting, and I found myself curious about the protag and what she was up to, because anything could go. Ultimately, I enjoyed the novel, especially the way it ended. However, after reading a couple of her short stories, I think she was more successful in sustaining the voice in her short stories than in the novel. The primary problem that I see is that the detachment we feel for a character in a short story due to the weirdness is hard to translate over in a novel. You can get away with not caring for a character in a story, but in a novel it's much more difficult. It's not that I disliked Mona, but I found it hard to get into her head and completely empathize with her, which sometimes meant that I wasn't as compelled to keep reading. I also wanted to get to know the science teacher more, and the kids sometimes felt bratty to me, which made me resent Mona for not being more in control (and for doing something crazy like have an ax in her classroom). I think these are all elements I'd have been okay with in a short story, but in a novel, I needed for some internal working order that wasn't completely clear to me. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it, and it was a fast read. It was definitely different, which made it fun to examine and look at, and some of the ideas inside are so off the wall, that I appreciated them. I also love how it comes full circle, with the beginning story being retold at the end in a different fashion. That to me was a bit of brilliance on Bender's part. Her prose is also really fresh and fun, which makes the read a good read. She is supposedly working on a new novel, so it will be interesting to see if some of these issues are resolved a bit.
Yes, you won me back.
I'm a terrible friend. I read my good friend Matt's book awhile back and have just been so busy that I haven't had time to blog about it. And now we are, a good month or so later, and all my initial thoughts have flown out of my head.
Matt likes to joke that I hated his last book, Mexican WhiteBoy, which isn't true. I didn't hate it. It just felt younger to me and I didn't like it nearly as much as I liked his first book, Ball Don't Lie. And I really really liked BDL because it had so much heart. There were a few technical craft things here and there, but I could overlook all those issues because Sticky was such a wonderful character that lived for me. Anyway, so Matt always joked that he was going to win me back with We Were Here, which is ridiculous since, well, it's not like he ever lost me.
Anyway, I thought We Were Here was awesome. Technically, it was well-crafted, well-plotted out. It had movement and was making some clear choices, and I liked that. I loved Rondell (with two L's) who was hilarious but lovable. I liked the journal format. The fact that we didn't find out what happened to Miguel til the end (although I sorta figured it out). And Mong was SUPER interesting. He was such a creepy sad guy, and I actually really wish we had stayed with him for a little longer. He was so intriguing, I wanted to dig even deeper and follow him a little more. But alas.
As always, Matt has such a great ear for language. It's edgy and urban yet lyrical and poetic at the same time, so that the prose never feels "young" even though the book is a YA book. It's still sophisticated.
One of my favorite parts is right here:
Good job, Matt! Yay!
Matt likes to joke that I hated his last book, Mexican WhiteBoy, which isn't true. I didn't hate it. It just felt younger to me and I didn't like it nearly as much as I liked his first book, Ball Don't Lie. And I really really liked BDL because it had so much heart. There were a few technical craft things here and there, but I could overlook all those issues because Sticky was such a wonderful character that lived for me. Anyway, so Matt always joked that he was going to win me back with We Were Here, which is ridiculous since, well, it's not like he ever lost me.
Anyway, I thought We Were Here was awesome. Technically, it was well-crafted, well-plotted out. It had movement and was making some clear choices, and I liked that. I loved Rondell (with two L's) who was hilarious but lovable. I liked the journal format. The fact that we didn't find out what happened to Miguel til the end (although I sorta figured it out). And Mong was SUPER interesting. He was such a creepy sad guy, and I actually really wish we had stayed with him for a little longer. He was so intriguing, I wanted to dig even deeper and follow him a little more. But alas.
As always, Matt has such a great ear for language. It's edgy and urban yet lyrical and poetic at the same time, so that the prose never feels "young" even though the book is a YA book. It's still sophisticated.
One of my favorite parts is right here:
And I just realized something. Mong left some shit out when he said only trivial things don't matter. It's so much more than that, yo. Nothing matters. Not when you break it all down like I been doing in my head all tonight. Trust me. Nothing. Not me. Not you. Not the guy in the liquor store with the bat. Not the Bible. Not the pretty girls. Not being the watcher-over of this park. Not The Catcher in the Rye. Not this damn book I'm writing.
Nothing, man.
It's all meaningless.
Everybody.
Is.
Nobody.
--[pg.284, We Were Here]
Good job, Matt! Yay!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Before the Terror
Just finished God of Small Things. Wow. How heartbreaking.
The style of Roy's prose took me a little bit to get into. It's lush and lyrical, but the narrator is an interesting choice. It's a 3rd person variable POV, sort of omniscient, but not. In the sense that the narrator is present, like has a voice of his/her own, opinions, asks rhetorical questions, etc. A third person unnamed narrator who somehow knows everything. Reminds me of like, the voiceover people on, say, Desperate Housewives, if you know what I mean. But once I got used to the unconventional prose of the book, I really began to get into it.
Another thing that interested me was how she used flashback. I deal heavily with flashbacks in my own writing, so it was interesting how she wove the past and the present, moving around it with a fluidity but not in a specific pattern. It wasn't sequential, and things openly referred to other events we hadn't yet encountered. So going into it, you get a sense of what has happened, but not completely. It's a bit confusing, but you go along with it, trusting she'll reveal what happened along the way. In fact, it's the knowing that something terrible has happened that propels you forward. And even once you know what's coming, the prose pushes you along. Plus, it's a little like watching a trainwreck. Horrifying, but you can't stop hurtling towards it.
I squirmed as the aunt showed herself to be a bitch and a half. I hated her with a fury. But what surprised me were the sudden tears that sprang to my eyes as I hit the part where we finally see in scene Estha pulling away in the train station. It completely broke me apart. I knew this was coming, so why did it effect me so? I'm not sure. Maybe because I finally had the full picture of what had happened, what childish guilt and misunderstanding had taken place, what kind of grief they were all holding in their hearts as they left each other. Or maybe it was just being in scene.
The last chapter, beautiful. I didn't expect it to end on this note, a flashback of one of the rare moments of happiness and joy and positive beauty in the book. So much of the book is focused on the fallout of terror and unkindness, negative things. But here is love, and it is fleeting and we know it's only a moment - thirteen days to be exact - but it is beautiful and perhaps makes it feel like it's worth it, for a second. It's captured like a rare butterfly. So I like that she chooses to end on it. Unconventional, but ultimately, the perfect place to end. Grief and all those other things are not easily remedied or resolved. They don't go away. But this fleeting moment of joy somehow feels like an adequate ending for a story that has no easy ending.
The idea of the different shaped holes in the Universe - a thought I've thought of people sometimes but never articulated. Wonderful.
And also:
One of the most perfect endings, ever.
The style of Roy's prose took me a little bit to get into. It's lush and lyrical, but the narrator is an interesting choice. It's a 3rd person variable POV, sort of omniscient, but not. In the sense that the narrator is present, like has a voice of his/her own, opinions, asks rhetorical questions, etc. A third person unnamed narrator who somehow knows everything. Reminds me of like, the voiceover people on, say, Desperate Housewives, if you know what I mean. But once I got used to the unconventional prose of the book, I really began to get into it.
Another thing that interested me was how she used flashback. I deal heavily with flashbacks in my own writing, so it was interesting how she wove the past and the present, moving around it with a fluidity but not in a specific pattern. It wasn't sequential, and things openly referred to other events we hadn't yet encountered. So going into it, you get a sense of what has happened, but not completely. It's a bit confusing, but you go along with it, trusting she'll reveal what happened along the way. In fact, it's the knowing that something terrible has happened that propels you forward. And even once you know what's coming, the prose pushes you along. Plus, it's a little like watching a trainwreck. Horrifying, but you can't stop hurtling towards it.
I squirmed as the aunt showed herself to be a bitch and a half. I hated her with a fury. But what surprised me were the sudden tears that sprang to my eyes as I hit the part where we finally see in scene Estha pulling away in the train station. It completely broke me apart. I knew this was coming, so why did it effect me so? I'm not sure. Maybe because I finally had the full picture of what had happened, what childish guilt and misunderstanding had taken place, what kind of grief they were all holding in their hearts as they left each other. Or maybe it was just being in scene.
The last chapter, beautiful. I didn't expect it to end on this note, a flashback of one of the rare moments of happiness and joy and positive beauty in the book. So much of the book is focused on the fallout of terror and unkindness, negative things. But here is love, and it is fleeting and we know it's only a moment - thirteen days to be exact - but it is beautiful and perhaps makes it feel like it's worth it, for a second. It's captured like a rare butterfly. So I like that she chooses to end on it. Unconventional, but ultimately, the perfect place to end. Grief and all those other things are not easily remedied or resolved. They don't go away. But this fleeting moment of joy somehow feels like an adequate ending for a story that has no easy ending.
The idea of the different shaped holes in the Universe - a thought I've thought of people sometimes but never articulated. Wonderful.
And also:
That first night, on the day that Sophie Mol came, Velutha watched his lover dress. When she was ready she squatted facing him. She touched him lightly with her fingers and left a trail of goosebumps on his skin. Like flat chalk on a blackboard. Like breeze in a paddyfield. Like jet-streaks in a blue church sky. He took her face in his hands and drew it towards his. He closed his eyes and smelled her skin. Ammu laughed.
Yes, Margaret, she thought. We do it to each other too.
She kissed his closed eyes and stood up. Velutha with his back against the mangosteen tree watched her walk away.
She had a dry rose in her hair.
She turned to say it once again: "Naaley."
Tomorrow.
--[pg. 321, God of Small Things]
One of the most perfect endings, ever.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Ouch.
From God of Small Things (which I'm racing to get through in time for my class on Tuesday):
"D'you know what happens when you hurt people?" Ammu said. "When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less."
--[pg. 107, God of Small Things]
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The sad priest
I finished The Power and the Glory today and loved it. Going into this book, I wasn't sure what to expect. I've never read any Greene before, and from just the back cover, I wasn't entirely sure if this was "my type" of book. But of course, I try to read everything and anything, and so I went into this with an open mind, especially given that I was told to read it for a class, with an eye towards structure and the third person POV.
Well, I loved it.
The priest was such a sad, sympathetic character to me. So flawed in so many ways, but ultimately a redemptive person because he is so flawed. The fact that he is torn up about his sins because he can't be absolved of them -- and the reason that he can't is because he loves the outcome of his mortal sin, his daughter - how can one not sympathize with that? The way he brings down the difference of the love he should feel for all people vs. the real love he feels for his daughter. He is so human, so nuanced, so complex in his guilt, in his pride, in the way he is trying to live with the way he has sinned. There are so many questions that are raised, subtly, thoughout the book, and it's not one that is easily ponderable. I'm amazed by Greene's ability to infuse this book with so much that is religious, existential, etc, without ever truly preaching. His characters are not flat stereotypes, but are real people. And like real people, there is no easy way to determine good or bad; instead there exist so many shades of gray. Everyone does things that are not admirable, and yet at the end, it is hard to condemn anyone for what they have done. Even the lieutenant, you get the feeling he's not a bad man, but is simply a man with a different take on what is good and right.
I had whole pages of this book tabbed for inclusion, but ultimately, I think it's futile to copy them all down. It's hard to encompass the philosophical and moral questions that are raised without reading the whole thing I think. But I'll put down these:
That's all I want to say. Read it. You will not be disappointed.
Well, I loved it.
The priest was such a sad, sympathetic character to me. So flawed in so many ways, but ultimately a redemptive person because he is so flawed. The fact that he is torn up about his sins because he can't be absolved of them -- and the reason that he can't is because he loves the outcome of his mortal sin, his daughter - how can one not sympathize with that? The way he brings down the difference of the love he should feel for all people vs. the real love he feels for his daughter. He is so human, so nuanced, so complex in his guilt, in his pride, in the way he is trying to live with the way he has sinned. There are so many questions that are raised, subtly, thoughout the book, and it's not one that is easily ponderable. I'm amazed by Greene's ability to infuse this book with so much that is religious, existential, etc, without ever truly preaching. His characters are not flat stereotypes, but are real people. And like real people, there is no easy way to determine good or bad; instead there exist so many shades of gray. Everyone does things that are not admirable, and yet at the end, it is hard to condemn anyone for what they have done. Even the lieutenant, you get the feeling he's not a bad man, but is simply a man with a different take on what is good and right.
I had whole pages of this book tabbed for inclusion, but ultimately, I think it's futile to copy them all down. It's hard to encompass the philosophical and moral questions that are raised without reading the whole thing I think. But I'll put down these:
One mustn't have human affections - or rather one must love every soul as if it were one's own child. The passion to protect must extend itself over a world - but he felt it tethered and aching like a hobbled animal to the tree trunk.The ending was inevitable, but so heartbreaking.
--[pg. 82-83, The Power and the Glory]
He wanted to say to this man, "Love is not wrong, but love should be happy and open - it is only wrong when it is secret, unhappy... It can be more unhappy than anything but the loss of God. It is the loss of God. You don't need a penance, my child, you have suffered quite enough," and to the other, "Lust is not the worst thing. It is because any day, any time, lust may turn into love that we have to avoid it. And when we love our sin then we are damned indeed."
-- [pg. 172, The Power and the Glory]
It ought to be possible for a man to be happy here, if he were not so tied to fear and suffering - unhappiness too can become a habit like piety. Perhaps it was his duty to break it, his duty to discover peace. He felt an immense envy of all those people who had confessed to him and had been absolved. In six days, he told himself, in Las Casas, I too... But he couldn't believe that anyone anywhere would rid him of his heavy heart. Even when he drank he felt bound to his sin by love. It was easier to get rid of hate.
-- [pg. 173, The Power and the Glory]
That's all I want to say. Read it. You will not be disappointed.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
A little moment of tragedy
Reading a bit of The Power and the Glory before I head to sleep (yes, it is 5 am). I'm not very far into it, but I was trying to finish up Chapter 4 before I went to bed. This last scene before the next chapter came out of left field for me, in the sense that I hadn't expected it to affect me, but it completely did. The priest, who is running away from execution/persecution, comes across a very poor village, a community of huts and people who have nothing but the clothes on their backs. The poor priest is incredibly tired, and wants to sleep, but these people haven't seen a priest in 5 years given the outlawing of the Church, and want to say their confessions. The old man who has offered the priest a place to stay keeps talking to the priest about saying Mass and hearing out confessions, despite the fact that the priest is weary and on the run and hungry and exhausted. Finally, the priest sits up, and angrily agrees to hear out confession. When the old man is done, he asks if he can get the women too:
I completely did not see this quiet moment of tragedy coming. It is so sad, this poor priest who is bone-tired, bitter at his lot, and yet still rises to do his duties; this community of people so desperate to see a priest. All these tired tired people, crashing into each other, despairing, and trying to hold on to something... The moment is so nuanced yet complex, and it leaves me wondering how I can ever create something like that in my own writing.
"Oh, let them come. Let them all come," the priest cried angrily. "I am your servant." He put his hand over his eyes and began to weep. The old man opened the door: it was not completely dark under the enormous arc of starry ill-lit sky. He went across to the women's huts and knocked. "Come," he said. "You must say your confessions. It is only polite to the father." They wailed at him that they were tired... the morning would do. "Would you insult him?" he said. "What do you think he has come here for? He is a very holy father. There he is in my hut now weeping for our sins." He hustled them out; one by one they picked their way across the clearing towards the hut, and the old man set off down the path towards the river to take the place of the boy who watched the ford for soldiers.
--[pg. 45, The Power and the Glory, Graham Greene]
I completely did not see this quiet moment of tragedy coming. It is so sad, this poor priest who is bone-tired, bitter at his lot, and yet still rises to do his duties; this community of people so desperate to see a priest. All these tired tired people, crashing into each other, despairing, and trying to hold on to something... The moment is so nuanced yet complex, and it leaves me wondering how I can ever create something like that in my own writing.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Reread: Remains of the Day is even more awesome than I remember it being
Quick thoughts:
I re-read Remains of the Day for class this week. Long time followers will remember I read this book about two years ago, shortly after I started this blog. At the time I really enjoyed it, but I don't think my taste was nearly as "sophisticated" as it is now, which is weird, because it was only a few years ago. But in the sense that I remember thinking back then that I was bored at parts, and I didn't really care about politics or butlering or any of that other stuff. I think I was reading it for plot at the time, and therefore felt it moved slow sometimes. And as much as I did appreciate that it had literary value, I don't think I got it as fully as I do now. Strangely enough, this time I read through it, it was such a fast read and completely compelling from beginning to end. I couldn't put it down, even though I'd read it before. It was like I was reading it for the first time! I read it really carefully this time, but it didn't even feel like it was at all slow. Everything was so interesting to me, from the way it was crafted, to his unreliable narrator (and maybe it made a difference that I knew this time that he was unreliable?), to the way he shifted in memory, and just seeing the little hints Ishiguro placed about his unreliability.
I find it really strange, but I guess I've actually become a BETTER READER in two years' time? But I loved the book more than I did the first time around. Maybe because I can appreciate it from a writers' perspective, but maybe also because I've matured as a reader. In any case, I just thought it was worth noting that I have new found appreciation, and in fact, was fairly blown away by this second read.
I re-read Remains of the Day for class this week. Long time followers will remember I read this book about two years ago, shortly after I started this blog. At the time I really enjoyed it, but I don't think my taste was nearly as "sophisticated" as it is now, which is weird, because it was only a few years ago. But in the sense that I remember thinking back then that I was bored at parts, and I didn't really care about politics or butlering or any of that other stuff. I think I was reading it for plot at the time, and therefore felt it moved slow sometimes. And as much as I did appreciate that it had literary value, I don't think I got it as fully as I do now. Strangely enough, this time I read through it, it was such a fast read and completely compelling from beginning to end. I couldn't put it down, even though I'd read it before. It was like I was reading it for the first time! I read it really carefully this time, but it didn't even feel like it was at all slow. Everything was so interesting to me, from the way it was crafted, to his unreliable narrator (and maybe it made a difference that I knew this time that he was unreliable?), to the way he shifted in memory, and just seeing the little hints Ishiguro placed about his unreliability.
I find it really strange, but I guess I've actually become a BETTER READER in two years' time? But I loved the book more than I did the first time around. Maybe because I can appreciate it from a writers' perspective, but maybe also because I've matured as a reader. In any case, I just thought it was worth noting that I have new found appreciation, and in fact, was fairly blown away by this second read.
Author Stalking: Nicole Krauss and Michael Chabon
Last week, I happened to be able to catch two authors I admire very much give craft talks: Nicole Krauss and Michael Chabon.
Nicole Krauss
I went to hear Nicole Krauss first, at the New School. She read a bit from both History of Love and her current work in progress. Anyone who has been following this blog long enough (or knows me personally) knows that I've had this fascination with Nicole (and secretly want the authorial power marriage she and JSF share). The first and only other time I've heard her read, I was so nervous, she had to hold out her hand and touch my arm, telling me it was okay. It has something to do with the fact that when I read History of Love, I felt like it was the book I wanted to write. It had the essence of something that felt very... me, for lack of a better word. In any case, when I heard her at New School, this feeling was only further reaffirmed.
Nicole has this aura about her, that I can't adequately explain. She's obviously a very internal person. She speaks in such a soothing tone, I can't imagine she has trouble getting her kids into bed at night. She uses the word "perhaps" instead of "maybe" and she's very thoughtful and measured when she speaks. There's something incredibly calm and affirmed about her, and she's clearly a very intelligent person. She talks neither too slowly or too fast. I don't know. Maybe it's also a measure of grace.
But what really struck me were the things she was saying when she was speaking about the craft. She said that she never really came up with a plan, that what she was going for, more than anything, was a mood. I think this really resonated with me, because that's generally how I like to write too. I like to capture a mood, and that's probably why I do my best writing at night, or when I'm feeling something in particular. She said she'd rifle through books, looking for things that could help her attain or keep the mood she was looking for, and I completely understood that as well. I've read certain short stories or passages of books (including hers) to put me in the right mindset before I write. I also liked how she talked about the fact that sometimes, she would just put things in and write about it, without really know why or what it meant, and then later it would work, in fact it would mean everything. Some writers are measured and planned, but she completely opens herself to surprises. I love that about her, because I feel like that's why her book felt so authentic to me.
It was a short hour, but it left me really trusting in her, because from everything she was saying, her process is very similar to mine, or at least the way we are as writers. I've tried to become more structured over time, because I think it might help, but her instinct, and the things she says she does, it totally resonated with me. And left me wanting to be her best friend, because I feel like somehow, she might really understand me. Maybe that's weird, and presumptuous, but I really really appreciated everything she said, not just as a different point of view, but because I felt she was speaking to and about me. Weird.
Michael Chabon
I had never heard Michael Chabon prior to this, though because Moonrat is a fangirl, I knew I was in for something fantastic. I've enjoyed the two books of his that I've read, and I know he is a masterful wordsmith.
In any case, I went up to Columbia University to hear him speak. He read an essay about Edgar Allen Poe, a long piece that came in 5 parts and took him about 80 minutes to read. But to his credit, despite the fact that it was long, I was never bored. And that's a hard feat, especially when it's non-fic. He was so interesting, so funny, so witty, and his words, as always, left me in awe. In fact, I just sat there, wondering to myself how one person could come up with such interesting, fresh phrases, how he could use these words to so much advantage. It was seriously breathtaking. The essay was about Poe, and so he read some of Poe's poetry, and it was actually interesting, because you could see that he was influenced by Poe too.
To be honest, Michael Chabon was so impressive in person (helped greatly along by his scruffy good looks, gravelly voice, and entertaining reading skills), that I fell in love a little bit. Ha! But really, I thought to myself how much more I appreciated his writing, having heard him in person. He is so incredibly thoughtful, intelligent and witty, and I still can't get over his amazing ability with words. That was obvious in reading his writing, but I think it struck me even more when he was reading them outloud to us.
In the Q&A that followed, I think he had some interesting things to say about researching books and how it excites him, as well as how one knows when to abandon a book. Strange to be able to see a man like that talk about the fact that he had one failed book. You think of your heroes as invincible, I guess, and someone like him as being able to churn out gold every single time, not as someone who struggles hard the way we do too.
Afterwards, I was sorry I hadn't brought my book to be signed. I would have liked to have shaken hands with him and told him in person how incredibly in awe of him I am. I'm sure he hears it all the time, but one can never be praised too much, right? Not in this thankless job, anyway...
Two great author events that make me SO GLAD to be back in the city... :)
Nicole Krauss
I went to hear Nicole Krauss first, at the New School. She read a bit from both History of Love and her current work in progress. Anyone who has been following this blog long enough (or knows me personally) knows that I've had this fascination with Nicole (and secretly want the authorial power marriage she and JSF share). The first and only other time I've heard her read, I was so nervous, she had to hold out her hand and touch my arm, telling me it was okay. It has something to do with the fact that when I read History of Love, I felt like it was the book I wanted to write. It had the essence of something that felt very... me, for lack of a better word. In any case, when I heard her at New School, this feeling was only further reaffirmed.
Nicole has this aura about her, that I can't adequately explain. She's obviously a very internal person. She speaks in such a soothing tone, I can't imagine she has trouble getting her kids into bed at night. She uses the word "perhaps" instead of "maybe" and she's very thoughtful and measured when she speaks. There's something incredibly calm and affirmed about her, and she's clearly a very intelligent person. She talks neither too slowly or too fast. I don't know. Maybe it's also a measure of grace.
But what really struck me were the things she was saying when she was speaking about the craft. She said that she never really came up with a plan, that what she was going for, more than anything, was a mood. I think this really resonated with me, because that's generally how I like to write too. I like to capture a mood, and that's probably why I do my best writing at night, or when I'm feeling something in particular. She said she'd rifle through books, looking for things that could help her attain or keep the mood she was looking for, and I completely understood that as well. I've read certain short stories or passages of books (including hers) to put me in the right mindset before I write. I also liked how she talked about the fact that sometimes, she would just put things in and write about it, without really know why or what it meant, and then later it would work, in fact it would mean everything. Some writers are measured and planned, but she completely opens herself to surprises. I love that about her, because I feel like that's why her book felt so authentic to me.
It was a short hour, but it left me really trusting in her, because from everything she was saying, her process is very similar to mine, or at least the way we are as writers. I've tried to become more structured over time, because I think it might help, but her instinct, and the things she says she does, it totally resonated with me. And left me wanting to be her best friend, because I feel like somehow, she might really understand me. Maybe that's weird, and presumptuous, but I really really appreciated everything she said, not just as a different point of view, but because I felt she was speaking to and about me. Weird.
Michael Chabon
I had never heard Michael Chabon prior to this, though because Moonrat is a fangirl, I knew I was in for something fantastic. I've enjoyed the two books of his that I've read, and I know he is a masterful wordsmith.
In any case, I went up to Columbia University to hear him speak. He read an essay about Edgar Allen Poe, a long piece that came in 5 parts and took him about 80 minutes to read. But to his credit, despite the fact that it was long, I was never bored. And that's a hard feat, especially when it's non-fic. He was so interesting, so funny, so witty, and his words, as always, left me in awe. In fact, I just sat there, wondering to myself how one person could come up with such interesting, fresh phrases, how he could use these words to so much advantage. It was seriously breathtaking. The essay was about Poe, and so he read some of Poe's poetry, and it was actually interesting, because you could see that he was influenced by Poe too.
To be honest, Michael Chabon was so impressive in person (helped greatly along by his scruffy good looks, gravelly voice, and entertaining reading skills), that I fell in love a little bit. Ha! But really, I thought to myself how much more I appreciated his writing, having heard him in person. He is so incredibly thoughtful, intelligent and witty, and I still can't get over his amazing ability with words. That was obvious in reading his writing, but I think it struck me even more when he was reading them outloud to us.
In the Q&A that followed, I think he had some interesting things to say about researching books and how it excites him, as well as how one knows when to abandon a book. Strange to be able to see a man like that talk about the fact that he had one failed book. You think of your heroes as invincible, I guess, and someone like him as being able to churn out gold every single time, not as someone who struggles hard the way we do too.
Afterwards, I was sorry I hadn't brought my book to be signed. I would have liked to have shaken hands with him and told him in person how incredibly in awe of him I am. I'm sure he hears it all the time, but one can never be praised too much, right? Not in this thankless job, anyway...
Two great author events that make me SO GLAD to be back in the city... :)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Book launch!
I have some posts forthcoming about my recent stalking of Nicole Krauss and Michael Chabon. But in the meanwhile, I wanted to just take a moment to announce that my good friend and YA author Matt de la Pena's third book We Were Here has hit bookstores today. I haven't read it yet, but it's his pride and joy, and has gotten some awesome reviews. It's about a boy who breaks out of a home with several friends, in a journey of self-discovery. Matt's writing tends to be urban and edgy, while still lyrical and poetic, and is a great option for boys in a YA category littered with "girl" books about vampire romances and high school drama. Matt keeps it real, and I'm sure this book does too. Buy it!!!!!!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Geniusness.
Long-time followers of my blog should know by now that I love Edwidge Danticat. Her work is lyrical, powerful, original and it says something. Well. Now she's also apparently a genius. She's won a MacArthur grant genius award. Good for her!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Quiet beauty
Wow, I couldn't put it down once I got past that middle section. I flew through the rest of the stories, and while none of them alone hit me the way that "Winter Concert" one did, the book as a whole was heartbreaking and beautiful, an amazing meditation on love and aging and forgiveness and life. I think as a young person reading this, I was taken to a place of understanding, of compassion, like a world that I have yet to encounter, a life I have yet to live, was revealed to me -- I can't imagine what it might be like to be an older person reading this. Strout has done an outstanding job of painting a complete picture of a town and a family in episodic form. My heart breaks for Henry, and even for Olive, who is fatally flawed in so many ways, but trying the best she can to do what she thinks is right.
The book explores so many themes, but ultimately, I think the lesson can be summed up by this section which comes on the last page of the book:
It's hard for me to put into words the way this book moved me, but it did. I guess that's the only thing I can really say about it. It moved me.
Well-deserving of the Pulitzer Prize, and the best book I've read all year.
The book explores so many themes, but ultimately, I think the lesson can be summed up by this section which comes on the last page of the book:
What young people didn't know, she thought, lying down beside this man, his hand on her shoulder, her arm; oh, what young people did not know. They did not know that lumpy, aged, and wrinkled bodies were as needy as their own young, firm ones, that love was not to be tossed away carelessly, as if it were a tart on a platter with others that got passed around again. No, if love was available, one chose it, or didn't choose it. And if her platter had been full with the goodness of Henry and she had found it burdensome, had flicked it off crumbs at a time, it was because she had not known what one should know: that day after day was unconsciously squandered.
--[Olive Kitteridge, pg. 270]
It's hard for me to put into words the way this book moved me, but it did. I guess that's the only thing I can really say about it. It moved me.
Well-deserving of the Pulitzer Prize, and the best book I've read all year.
A history revealed
I'm about halfway through Olive Kitteridge and I love it. The stories are all so quietly moving, illustrating these relationships and small currents of change that run through them. I wanted to write here though, because I just finished "Winter Concert", which is by far my favorite so far.
The picture of an elderly couple is painted with such care and tenderness. A lifetime together has made the two of them comfortable in their place with each other, augmented by the awareness of their mortality. It's a sweet picture, but what makes the story so remarkable is how a blip can come at them in the midst of all this, tilting this world that they've fought to have a little bit on its axis, reminding us that this kind of place doesn't exist without hardwork and years of trials. It's a won effort. And even though it isn't easily dismantled, nonetheless, it doesn't make them immune to hurt. An entire history of a time when their relationship wasn't so easy and wasn't so perfect and beautiful is encapsulated in this moment, this revealed past. Names aren't named, but we get a sense of what must have been a rough period in their lives together, something they've had to get through to be where they are now. The anguish it must have caused them at the time. There is nothing as poignant as the moment where he says, "Oh, Janie... I've made you so sad." (pg. 138). It is a line that is so full of sorrow in a world that has been so beautiful and perfect up until now, and you get the sense that he has tried so hard to make her happy to atone for past mistakes, to love her, and that this moment where he has disappointed her is a regret he can't abide by.
I loved this story. Truly, truly loved it. It made my heart ache from it's beauty. Loving the rest of the book too, but this was my favorite thus far.
The picture of an elderly couple is painted with such care and tenderness. A lifetime together has made the two of them comfortable in their place with each other, augmented by the awareness of their mortality. It's a sweet picture, but what makes the story so remarkable is how a blip can come at them in the midst of all this, tilting this world that they've fought to have a little bit on its axis, reminding us that this kind of place doesn't exist without hardwork and years of trials. It's a won effort. And even though it isn't easily dismantled, nonetheless, it doesn't make them immune to hurt. An entire history of a time when their relationship wasn't so easy and wasn't so perfect and beautiful is encapsulated in this moment, this revealed past. Names aren't named, but we get a sense of what must have been a rough period in their lives together, something they've had to get through to be where they are now. The anguish it must have caused them at the time. There is nothing as poignant as the moment where he says, "Oh, Janie... I've made you so sad." (pg. 138). It is a line that is so full of sorrow in a world that has been so beautiful and perfect up until now, and you get the sense that he has tried so hard to make her happy to atone for past mistakes, to love her, and that this moment where he has disappointed her is a regret he can't abide by.
I loved this story. Truly, truly loved it. It made my heart ache from it's beauty. Loving the rest of the book too, but this was my favorite thus far.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Busyness makes one want brain candy
I've been busy for the past few weeks with settling into school. I'm at a new program that fulfills everything I've wanted in an MFA - intellectually, creatively, socially, supportively. However, with that has come a lot of work and a lot of stuff to think about in terms of my writing. Because of this, since I last devoured Jacqueline Carey's silly fantasy novel, I haven't bothered to pick up something new. Mostly because I'm slammed with work and don't want to start something that will suck me in when I should be doing homework (although in its place, I spend amazing amounts of time on facebook, hulu, useless blogs and managing my fantasy team), and also because I can't decide if I want something that will be brainless and fun to counter the literature I'm going to have to read, or if I want to read something that might help my writing, which sorta makes me feel like I'm always doing homework in a weird way. I came to this program to be immersed in the art of writing 90% of the time -- so is it ironic that part of me wants my pleasure reading to simply be pleasure? And by that, I mean, reading stuff that won't have me constantly be thinking about how I can integrate this into my own writing. But then again, I'm guessing there's nothing I'd read where I could turn that part of my brain off. Even if I decided to pick up The Lost Symbol, I'd be looking at how Dan Brown is so effective at creating cliffhangers (and thus an entire civilization willing to turn the page to his next two paragraph chapter).
I digress. Ultimately, thanks to a suggestion by Moonie, I've picked up Olive Kitteridge. I'm not sure if this is supposed to fall under linked stories, short stories or a novel, but I have high hopes for the Pulitzer winner.
So off I go to read one story before I sleep for tonight.
I digress. Ultimately, thanks to a suggestion by Moonie, I've picked up Olive Kitteridge. I'm not sure if this is supposed to fall under linked stories, short stories or a novel, but I have high hopes for the Pulitzer winner.
So off I go to read one story before I sleep for tonight.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
More from the author of Time Traveler's Wife
Audrey Niffenegger's new book, Her Fearful Symmetry, is coming out at the end of this month. Apparently it's about twins (which is what my novel is about! haha). Here's a video interview:
I'm looking forward to reading it! I so loved her first book...
I'm looking forward to reading it! I so loved her first book...
Monday, September 14, 2009
Movie: Time Traveler's Wife
Oh, I totally forgot --
With great anticipation, I saw Time Traveler's Wife at the theater. I know I was going to be let down, but I couldn't help but be excited. In fact, I reread the book before seeing it (actually only got through half of the book before seeing it, finished the other half later). I hadn't read the book in about six years or something, so it was exciting.
They changed some of it (obviously) and couldn't spend as much time developing their relationship in the past, which was a shame. My friend who hadn't read the book said the development was poor, and so it was hard to tell what they saw in each other. I thought the first half was kinda weird just because it was impossible for him to say, "I'm from the future" without it sounding ridiculous. But once we got over the establishment hump, it was much better. I love Rachel McAdams anyway. And although the changed the ending (and I loved the original ending), I thought their take was also effective and still made me cry.
Of course, they left out so many elements that made the book fuller, but the core elements of the relationship over time and being affected by his travel was still there. I think maybe as a lover of the book, it fulfilled my dreams of seeing it on screen, but it's hard for me to see what people who hadn't read the book thought.
That's all folks!
With great anticipation, I saw Time Traveler's Wife at the theater. I know I was going to be let down, but I couldn't help but be excited. In fact, I reread the book before seeing it (actually only got through half of the book before seeing it, finished the other half later). I hadn't read the book in about six years or something, so it was exciting.
They changed some of it (obviously) and couldn't spend as much time developing their relationship in the past, which was a shame. My friend who hadn't read the book said the development was poor, and so it was hard to tell what they saw in each other. I thought the first half was kinda weird just because it was impossible for him to say, "I'm from the future" without it sounding ridiculous. But once we got over the establishment hump, it was much better. I love Rachel McAdams anyway. And although the changed the ending (and I loved the original ending), I thought their take was also effective and still made me cry.
Of course, they left out so many elements that made the book fuller, but the core elements of the relationship over time and being affected by his travel was still there. I think maybe as a lover of the book, it fulfilled my dreams of seeing it on screen, but it's hard for me to see what people who hadn't read the book thought.
That's all folks!
Another slew of recaps
I've been off internet for all of the month of August, which is when I did a sh!tload of reading. Now I've started up school again, which leaves me little room for pleasure reading (already I'm swamped with work). But I figured that since I'm handicapped in my ability to catch up to food posts, I should at least catch up with my book posts. So here we go:
1. Oryx and Crake. Moonrat had mentioned to me that she had hated this book, so I wasn't sure what to think going in. Then again, she hates dystopic fiction whereas I love it. In any case, I enjoyed this book. Didn't completely love it the way I did Blind Assassin, but I found myself intrigued by the predicament and trying to figure out what had happened that led up to the present situation. As with any dystopic fiction, and especially Atwood's, there's a lot to ponder in terms of the direction of our modern society, and what we're heading towards. The need for things to be more and more artificial because we want to live longer, stay more beautiful, have more things that are modified genetically to meet our desires. It's a scary place she paints, but even scarier is the idea that somebody might someday believe that we as a race are too flawed that we deserve to be completely wiped out of existence. The ending leaves you hanging, similar to the ending to Handmaid's Tale, where you hope that the better possibility occurred but you can never be sure. I enjoyed the book, though I suppose there's little room for an emotional investment into the characters.
2. Love, Rosie. A Cecelia Ahern book. Okay, yes, I know this is total fluff reading, and that she's a poor writer, and that in a way I've in some ways pretty much just picked up a chicklit novel by reading this on my sister's recommendation. But I won't apologize for liking it! The whole thing is done in notes and emails and im convos and letters. And it's a bit silly and kind of cute, and it's totally My Best Friend's Wedding meets You've Got Mail with some Serendipity thrown in. But I enjoyed it. And I thought the use of no traditional narrative (until the end, which I'll get to) worked well enough for what it was. Did it more believably than other books I've read that have tried to employ a similar device. I flew through it, felt thoroughly frustrated where I was meant to, and got happy at the end when I was meant to. It's predictable, but felt like reading a romantic comedy, and therefore I liked it. My only bone to pick was the epilogue,which suddenly got a little overly wrought in its cheese, and besides, it broke out of its device and started using regular narrative which I felt was a copout and in poor choice. There could have been a better way to show they got together without doing that. But oh well. I liked it.
3. Shadow of the Wind. Zafon's first book. He paints a great little gothic Spain in this book, setting a perfect tone and mood. What I love about the book is that it's clearly a book for book lovers. The whole thing centers around a mystery started by a single book. But the world he paints is dark and slightly sinister, with some mystical magic properties that work around the edges. I enjoy his prose, or at least as well as I can in translation. The plot is intriguing and unique, in a way where it's hard to even tell where anything is going, or what the key to unraveling the mystery is. Some reveals at the end threw me for a loop, in fact. But really, the book is less about the plot or mystery itself, but rather immersing yourself in the world he's built. My only thing that I'll note is that he does this thing where the narrative changes to tell backstory, telling in such a way that the first person narrator couldn't have known those things. Or it'll do this thing where something goes off into italics and becomes a completely different narrative backstory. As a person focused heavily on craft, it amazes me he can get away with this. But other than that, I really liked his book. Can't wait to read the next one!
4. The Perks of Being a Wallflower. My sister loves this book, and it was a short read, so what the heck. I enjoyed it well enough, though I don't get why she raves about it. It had a bit of a Catcher in the Rye feel -- awkward kid with intense emotions, trying to relate to a world around him in a coming of age. It was reasonably well done, though I didn't personally become heavily invested in the character. Also, the ending reveal seemed surprising to me and I'm not entirely sure I bought it...
5. Living Dead Girl. My sister (again) gave me this book to read as one of her favorites. I read it and thought it was reasonably well-done, at least prose-wise, but found it intensely disturbing. The book, about a girl who is abducted at 10 and forced to be pretty much a sex slave to a disturbed pedophile, offers little hope, little redemption opportunity, and is just a story of horror after horror. My sister is apparently morbid and finds the book fascinating the way only a teenager with angst can. I, on the other hand, find it disturbing that such a book is on the market and is so popular. Not because I'm offended by the premise, but because the book seemed to be bent on simply telling a sobering tale, and there is little complexity or hope in the end. And forgive me if I believe that fiction should serve a higher purpose than simply telling horrors. I mean, I think the content is a story that is an intriguing premise for a story, but beyond her day-to-day attempt to escape before time runs out, there's a very insular paranoia, where the girl has become a creature we can only pity, and not one we can relate to. And I don't think a writer wants her characters pitied. It's only at the very very end when we get a moment, a glimpse of something redeeming, but then it all comes crashing down before we can even explore it. There's no uplifting moment, no moral to be told, no lesson learned, no message about humanity. I got nothing from it except a feeling of bleakness about the fact that this may happen to certain girls every day of their lives and we're helpless to do anything about it. If I want depressing stories that have no rhyme or reason, I'll turn on the news, thank you very much. I don't need fiction to do it for me. Fiction, I think, exists to make meaning out of chaos. So in that vein, while I think the writing in here is good, vivid, visceral, I'm upset by the way the content was plotted out and ultimately put together.
6. The Guersney Literary and Potato Peel Society. This book has gotten a lot of hype recently, so I started reading it with high expectations. Since it took place during the war, I thought I'd get another tearjerker, something that hits at that place in me where I like to cry. To be honest, while I was reasonably entertained by the book for the most part, I never felt like the book held any momentum. A lot of letters back and forth (and actually, I think Cecilia Ahern did a better job building her plot using this device), a couple of intriguing threads here and there. But it never mattered that much to me. I felt like I really was reading somebody's letters, and the thing is, in real life, most people's lives and letters are boring. Put in a compilation, they don't make an interesting story. And that's how I felt about the book. It was anecdotal, a few minor dramas here and there, but nothing that pulled at me or made me feel attached to the characters emotionally. It was a fine read for the airplane, but it lacked a plot that seized me. So while I enjoyed it well enough (no big complaints), I don't have anything overwhelmingly positive to say about it either.
7. Kushiel's Mercy. Yes, because I do read fantasy -- this is the last book in the series, and was my favorite one. Everything gets tied together at the end, which is satisfying. And what I liked about this book is that I felt Carey was tighter here. In the past, there would be these long descriptions about journeys, and talking to useless people, and exploring here and there, and whatnot, which I cared less about. But here, it was action packed, and I was constantly on-edge, wanting to know what happened at the next step and where it was going. I was rarely bored, and mostly just excited to see how things panned out. Her action scenes are still really awesome, and the way things fit together in the end (and the political stuff), works out so well, I'm impressed. I'm sad to see the series go (although she's doing a spinoff for a few generations later in the same world, though I don't know how that will work out). Laugh at me all you want for reading obscure genre fiction (well not that obscure bc it sells pretty well), but I liked it!
Wooo. Okay done for now!
1. Oryx and Crake. Moonrat had mentioned to me that she had hated this book, so I wasn't sure what to think going in. Then again, she hates dystopic fiction whereas I love it. In any case, I enjoyed this book. Didn't completely love it the way I did Blind Assassin, but I found myself intrigued by the predicament and trying to figure out what had happened that led up to the present situation. As with any dystopic fiction, and especially Atwood's, there's a lot to ponder in terms of the direction of our modern society, and what we're heading towards. The need for things to be more and more artificial because we want to live longer, stay more beautiful, have more things that are modified genetically to meet our desires. It's a scary place she paints, but even scarier is the idea that somebody might someday believe that we as a race are too flawed that we deserve to be completely wiped out of existence. The ending leaves you hanging, similar to the ending to Handmaid's Tale, where you hope that the better possibility occurred but you can never be sure. I enjoyed the book, though I suppose there's little room for an emotional investment into the characters.
2. Love, Rosie. A Cecelia Ahern book. Okay, yes, I know this is total fluff reading, and that she's a poor writer, and that in a way I've in some ways pretty much just picked up a chicklit novel by reading this on my sister's recommendation. But I won't apologize for liking it! The whole thing is done in notes and emails and im convos and letters. And it's a bit silly and kind of cute, and it's totally My Best Friend's Wedding meets You've Got Mail with some Serendipity thrown in. But I enjoyed it. And I thought the use of no traditional narrative (until the end, which I'll get to) worked well enough for what it was. Did it more believably than other books I've read that have tried to employ a similar device. I flew through it, felt thoroughly frustrated where I was meant to, and got happy at the end when I was meant to. It's predictable, but felt like reading a romantic comedy, and therefore I liked it. My only bone to pick was the epilogue,which suddenly got a little overly wrought in its cheese, and besides, it broke out of its device and started using regular narrative which I felt was a copout and in poor choice. There could have been a better way to show they got together without doing that. But oh well. I liked it.
3. Shadow of the Wind. Zafon's first book. He paints a great little gothic Spain in this book, setting a perfect tone and mood. What I love about the book is that it's clearly a book for book lovers. The whole thing centers around a mystery started by a single book. But the world he paints is dark and slightly sinister, with some mystical magic properties that work around the edges. I enjoy his prose, or at least as well as I can in translation. The plot is intriguing and unique, in a way where it's hard to even tell where anything is going, or what the key to unraveling the mystery is. Some reveals at the end threw me for a loop, in fact. But really, the book is less about the plot or mystery itself, but rather immersing yourself in the world he's built. My only thing that I'll note is that he does this thing where the narrative changes to tell backstory, telling in such a way that the first person narrator couldn't have known those things. Or it'll do this thing where something goes off into italics and becomes a completely different narrative backstory. As a person focused heavily on craft, it amazes me he can get away with this. But other than that, I really liked his book. Can't wait to read the next one!
4. The Perks of Being a Wallflower. My sister loves this book, and it was a short read, so what the heck. I enjoyed it well enough, though I don't get why she raves about it. It had a bit of a Catcher in the Rye feel -- awkward kid with intense emotions, trying to relate to a world around him in a coming of age. It was reasonably well done, though I didn't personally become heavily invested in the character. Also, the ending reveal seemed surprising to me and I'm not entirely sure I bought it...
5. Living Dead Girl. My sister (again) gave me this book to read as one of her favorites. I read it and thought it was reasonably well-done, at least prose-wise, but found it intensely disturbing. The book, about a girl who is abducted at 10 and forced to be pretty much a sex slave to a disturbed pedophile, offers little hope, little redemption opportunity, and is just a story of horror after horror. My sister is apparently morbid and finds the book fascinating the way only a teenager with angst can. I, on the other hand, find it disturbing that such a book is on the market and is so popular. Not because I'm offended by the premise, but because the book seemed to be bent on simply telling a sobering tale, and there is little complexity or hope in the end. And forgive me if I believe that fiction should serve a higher purpose than simply telling horrors. I mean, I think the content is a story that is an intriguing premise for a story, but beyond her day-to-day attempt to escape before time runs out, there's a very insular paranoia, where the girl has become a creature we can only pity, and not one we can relate to. And I don't think a writer wants her characters pitied. It's only at the very very end when we get a moment, a glimpse of something redeeming, but then it all comes crashing down before we can even explore it. There's no uplifting moment, no moral to be told, no lesson learned, no message about humanity. I got nothing from it except a feeling of bleakness about the fact that this may happen to certain girls every day of their lives and we're helpless to do anything about it. If I want depressing stories that have no rhyme or reason, I'll turn on the news, thank you very much. I don't need fiction to do it for me. Fiction, I think, exists to make meaning out of chaos. So in that vein, while I think the writing in here is good, vivid, visceral, I'm upset by the way the content was plotted out and ultimately put together.
6. The Guersney Literary and Potato Peel Society. This book has gotten a lot of hype recently, so I started reading it with high expectations. Since it took place during the war, I thought I'd get another tearjerker, something that hits at that place in me where I like to cry. To be honest, while I was reasonably entertained by the book for the most part, I never felt like the book held any momentum. A lot of letters back and forth (and actually, I think Cecilia Ahern did a better job building her plot using this device), a couple of intriguing threads here and there. But it never mattered that much to me. I felt like I really was reading somebody's letters, and the thing is, in real life, most people's lives and letters are boring. Put in a compilation, they don't make an interesting story. And that's how I felt about the book. It was anecdotal, a few minor dramas here and there, but nothing that pulled at me or made me feel attached to the characters emotionally. It was a fine read for the airplane, but it lacked a plot that seized me. So while I enjoyed it well enough (no big complaints), I don't have anything overwhelmingly positive to say about it either.
7. Kushiel's Mercy. Yes, because I do read fantasy -- this is the last book in the series, and was my favorite one. Everything gets tied together at the end, which is satisfying. And what I liked about this book is that I felt Carey was tighter here. In the past, there would be these long descriptions about journeys, and talking to useless people, and exploring here and there, and whatnot, which I cared less about. But here, it was action packed, and I was constantly on-edge, wanting to know what happened at the next step and where it was going. I was rarely bored, and mostly just excited to see how things panned out. Her action scenes are still really awesome, and the way things fit together in the end (and the political stuff), works out so well, I'm impressed. I'm sad to see the series go (although she's doing a spinoff for a few generations later in the same world, though I don't know how that will work out). Laugh at me all you want for reading obscure genre fiction (well not that obscure bc it sells pretty well), but I liked it!
Wooo. Okay done for now!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Super behind
Wow I'm about four books behind posts huh? Guess I'll have to do quick recaps then to catch up. Let's see:
Victoria Redel's Border of Truth:
Good, but not great. Now having read both her books, I'll say that her female protags have a way of grating upon me a little. I think I find them a little pretentious or self-important or something. Maybe that's how they're meant to be, but it makes it hard to sympathize. That being said, I liked the story of the father, his letters and his anguish much more. He was funny and interesting. Unfortunately, I don't think the book came together and touched me as much as I would have liked. It was meant to, I'm sure, but it fell short a bit. Maybe part of it has to do with too much saturation of the Holocaust market, that you expect something gut-wrenching. This read was good enough, but it wasn't groundbreaking.
Barack Obama's Audacity of Hope and Dreams From My Father:
I lumped them together since I listened to them on audio back to back while doing a cross-country drive. The first was much more a meditation on his ideals of government and values, etc, which I found really fascinating. His ideas made me respect him as a person, as well as a father, and reaffirmed my belief in him as a truly good person striving to leave a positive mark in the world. I found that I agreed with him in many respects (if not all). While it still remains to be seen how he can take these ideals and apply them practically as our president, and what the ultimate outcome of his presidency is, listening to Audacity makes me at least feel secure in the knowledge that our country is being led by someone with some really solid values and common sense, as well as compassion and empathy.
Dreams was much more a memoir, which I found really interesting, just to hear about the different experiences that he went through. What I find interesting especially, is that despite being raised by the "white" side of his family, his struggles through adolescence were so integrated with the African part of his heritage. I suppose that's inevitable, but I also though it was interesting how in his preface, when he talked about his mother passing away, he said that if he could do it again, he might write more a meditation on her, rather than on the absent parent, because she'd been such a driving force in his life. That was the one part (early on too) of the book that moved me to tears. So I wonder if, now that time has passed some, and with maturity and age and experience, if he's been able to reconcile the two parts of himself a bit more. In any case, I think it's really interesting to note where our current president has come from, what unique experiences he really has had from those that came before him. I also really like the fact that he is such an introspective person.
Steven Hall, The Raw Shark Texts:
Really intriguing concept, one that totally absorbed me from the outset. It's so creative and unique, being both a thriller but also a conceptual literary idea. However, the ending left me a bit unsatisfied, as I felt that there was a lot going on but didn't completely get explained as neatly as I'd have liked. I wanted to understand the rules of the game a bit better, as well as get the thing between Scout and Clio more. Maybe it's silly for me to want it spelled out, but I suppose I wanted the big a-ha reveal, ala Harry Potter, in which all the elements, however strange and fantastical, are pieced together in a coherent world.
I really need to do better maintenance on my blogs, but it's been a whirlwind the past few months, and probably won't settle down until September! [I'm tens of meals behind on my food blog for instance!]
Victoria Redel's Border of Truth:
Good, but not great. Now having read both her books, I'll say that her female protags have a way of grating upon me a little. I think I find them a little pretentious or self-important or something. Maybe that's how they're meant to be, but it makes it hard to sympathize. That being said, I liked the story of the father, his letters and his anguish much more. He was funny and interesting. Unfortunately, I don't think the book came together and touched me as much as I would have liked. It was meant to, I'm sure, but it fell short a bit. Maybe part of it has to do with too much saturation of the Holocaust market, that you expect something gut-wrenching. This read was good enough, but it wasn't groundbreaking.
Barack Obama's Audacity of Hope and Dreams From My Father:
I lumped them together since I listened to them on audio back to back while doing a cross-country drive. The first was much more a meditation on his ideals of government and values, etc, which I found really fascinating. His ideas made me respect him as a person, as well as a father, and reaffirmed my belief in him as a truly good person striving to leave a positive mark in the world. I found that I agreed with him in many respects (if not all). While it still remains to be seen how he can take these ideals and apply them practically as our president, and what the ultimate outcome of his presidency is, listening to Audacity makes me at least feel secure in the knowledge that our country is being led by someone with some really solid values and common sense, as well as compassion and empathy.
Dreams was much more a memoir, which I found really interesting, just to hear about the different experiences that he went through. What I find interesting especially, is that despite being raised by the "white" side of his family, his struggles through adolescence were so integrated with the African part of his heritage. I suppose that's inevitable, but I also though it was interesting how in his preface, when he talked about his mother passing away, he said that if he could do it again, he might write more a meditation on her, rather than on the absent parent, because she'd been such a driving force in his life. That was the one part (early on too) of the book that moved me to tears. So I wonder if, now that time has passed some, and with maturity and age and experience, if he's been able to reconcile the two parts of himself a bit more. In any case, I think it's really interesting to note where our current president has come from, what unique experiences he really has had from those that came before him. I also really like the fact that he is such an introspective person.
Steven Hall, The Raw Shark Texts:
Really intriguing concept, one that totally absorbed me from the outset. It's so creative and unique, being both a thriller but also a conceptual literary idea. However, the ending left me a bit unsatisfied, as I felt that there was a lot going on but didn't completely get explained as neatly as I'd have liked. I wanted to understand the rules of the game a bit better, as well as get the thing between Scout and Clio more. Maybe it's silly for me to want it spelled out, but I suppose I wanted the big a-ha reveal, ala Harry Potter, in which all the elements, however strange and fantastical, are pieced together in a coherent world.
I really need to do better maintenance on my blogs, but it's been a whirlwind the past few months, and probably won't settle down until September! [I'm tens of meals behind on my food blog for instance!]
Saturday, July 25, 2009
BBS
It's been all sorts of crazy, what with roadtripping it down the California coast and then across America. I haven't been reading, though I have listened to Obama's two books on audiobook, which I'll blog about shortly. Be back soon...
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Wax in my ears
I know that most people think it's beneficial for writers to have some sort of set schedule to stick to - an hour a day, even if it's poop, that kind of thing. For the most part I kinda agree. Except I also really believe in the muse that grabs and holds.
I think the "poop" writing thing is totally fine for a first run-through. Getting that first draft out is pulling teeth no matter what, and will probably be shitty no matter what, so one should keep writing through it, with the knowledge that it can be fixed later.
But now I'm on the revision part. And I don't want poop. I want quality. And I don't think quality in the second draft is something that can be forced. It's an instinct that seems to require the perfect mindset to be able to see that invisible perfection in the air and grab at it. I need to be in that "zone", that place where I know exactly what feels right, how words should be arranged, how a story should be told. This is where precision and delicateness comes in. This is where poop isn't allowed, because this is where you take something that's just a bunch of shit and try to make it into art. And art can't be forced through will alone, art is vision, and vision only hits you sometimes.
So it's frustrating to me when I hit a roadblock where I'm trying to piece things together and I know it feels wrong, but I know it's wrong because I'm not in the right mindset.
I'm working on Chapter 9 now. I am trying to use a block of text that originally appeared in Chapter 7 in my first draft, and integrate it. This requires some new preamble that must be freshly written, but has to sound just right in tone. Right now, I'm hitting a fog that is making it impossible for me to hear it. It's like I have wax in my ears or something, or am getting hit with a signal block. I can't get an accurate read on if this is sounding right, but I'm pretty sure it's total shit.
So I'm going to go eat a bowl of Ranier cherries, read a little, and then maybe take a second stab. If not, I guess there's always tomorrow night.
I think the "poop" writing thing is totally fine for a first run-through. Getting that first draft out is pulling teeth no matter what, and will probably be shitty no matter what, so one should keep writing through it, with the knowledge that it can be fixed later.
But now I'm on the revision part. And I don't want poop. I want quality. And I don't think quality in the second draft is something that can be forced. It's an instinct that seems to require the perfect mindset to be able to see that invisible perfection in the air and grab at it. I need to be in that "zone", that place where I know exactly what feels right, how words should be arranged, how a story should be told. This is where precision and delicateness comes in. This is where poop isn't allowed, because this is where you take something that's just a bunch of shit and try to make it into art. And art can't be forced through will alone, art is vision, and vision only hits you sometimes.
So it's frustrating to me when I hit a roadblock where I'm trying to piece things together and I know it feels wrong, but I know it's wrong because I'm not in the right mindset.
I'm working on Chapter 9 now. I am trying to use a block of text that originally appeared in Chapter 7 in my first draft, and integrate it. This requires some new preamble that must be freshly written, but has to sound just right in tone. Right now, I'm hitting a fog that is making it impossible for me to hear it. It's like I have wax in my ears or something, or am getting hit with a signal block. I can't get an accurate read on if this is sounding right, but I'm pretty sure it's total shit.
So I'm going to go eat a bowl of Ranier cherries, read a little, and then maybe take a second stab. If not, I guess there's always tomorrow night.
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