Oops, We're Getting a Little Ahead of Ourself

You know those days where you're like, wow, I am being so productive! I've done everything that I planned to do, and I still have time to spare before I have to be at that thing this evening.

But then you realize, oh shoot, I completely forget that I had to run to the bank and grocery store, that thing starts half an hour earlier than I thought it did, and I forgot that we sprang forward for daylight saving time, so I am actually running really, really behind!

That sort of happened to me with the list project. I was feeling really great. I've read quite a few books now, and I've been tackling some of the more difficult authors, genres, and texts. I've even been doing pretty well with tackling authors with many books on the list. I'm done with Austen (everything she wrote is on the list!) and Morrison. I only have three more Dickens to go, and he has ten on this list! And then, then I remembered that the other most common author on the list is J.M. Coetzee, who also has ten books on the list. Of which I have only read one, and I didn't like it.

So, working through his works (no pun intended) is my next major task. Le sigh.

I read Elizabeth Costello over the weekend (she actually appears, and annoys if you ask me, in the other book of his that I read). It's a very odd little book. It is essentially about various lectures/talks that she gives since she is a writer/lecturer, and the context surrounding those talks (and then her chat with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, I kid you not). It's disjointed, intentionally, and very, very philosophical. One talk is all about vegetarianism and the question of what separates humans from animals (and if the answer is nothing significant or super meaningful, then is eating meat essentially murder), and one talk is all about the problem of evil and its relationship to literature. Or something like that. Truly, it's as fun as it sounds.

I also read To Have and Have Not, because Hemingway also appears on the list several times. Being a Bogart/Bacall fan, I have of course seen the movie many, many, many times. I also knew, also of course, that the book and movie have virtually nothing in common (for example, the movie is very good, the book, not so much; even Hemingway thought so). The best thing about the book is the title, which the movie took (along with the names of two characters and one seen, and really nothing else).

I've really got nothing to say about this book. I do wonder why it made it on the list, but mostly it made me want to watch the movie. That and Dark Passage. Not such a good movie, but I haven't seen it in a really long time. Or Key Largo. That's a good movie. I think I need to have a Bogart/Bacall fest sometime soon.

I May Bring This on Myself

Okay, I'll admit it. It would be quite fair for someone to point out that a person who has been complaining about having read too many books about murders really has nothing to complain about if she decides to read a book called The Killer Inside Me. I mean, even if you aren't familiar with the book or haven't heard anything about the movie last year, it's pretty obviously a book about murder. In my defense, I've been trying to read this book for awhile; apparently, the MoCo library system is a little too wholesome for this book.

Anyway, it was quite a read. It starts right off the bat with some pretty intense parts and rollicks all the way to a rather intense end. The novel is rather difficult to read in some parts. I certainly would not call it a pleasant read. My Vintage Crime Edition features a quote on the cover from Stanley Kubrick, "Probably the most chilling and believable first-person story of a criminally warped mind I have ever encountered." That seems pretty fair, and also gives a fairly good sense of what you're in for if you decide to take this one on.

That said, even though I've noted in the past that this list feels heavy on the noir, this is worth a read if you're interested in the genre. Even though you might see the twists coming, the moment you see the twist will still be a jolt. However, it's a nasty, intense read; graphic, gruesome, and not afraid to be detailed about violence (including sexual violence; consider this your trigger warning).

Because I like my books cheerful, I also read American Pastoral. I probably should have paced my Roth a bit better, but on the other hand, this one was so much better than The Human Stain. It worked for me in all the ways that the other one didn't. Again, definitely not a fun or light read. Essentially, it is about a man whose life and identity are utterly shattered. The story focuses on Swede, an all American, high-school football hero, family man, etc. whose beloved daughter bombs a store and kills someone in a terrorist act protesting the Vietnam War. That's just the start, though, the real focus is on how he copes with the aftermath of the act and how his daughter copes.

It's hard to describe this book without all kinds of spoilers. I know that I have used Devastating before as a one-word summary, but it really applies in this case. The novel takes questions about identity, family, community, and a few very specific moments in America, and feeds them through this lens of intense cruelty and devastation. My only criticism is that again, the author as narrator felt unnecessary. It was just odd.

So There You Go

The description of the story certainly sounds timeless or even contemporary, and certainly not confined to one specific location. Father is excited about his son's return from college, only to find that he has changed and no longer is the young man the father saw off to college. That all said, Fathers and Sons is incredibly Russian. Incredibly.

Fortunately, I really like Russian novels. I have many favorite books from this project, but my favorite whole class of books that I wouldn't have really gotten into without this project has got to be Russian novels. Turgenev is not my favorite Russian author, but I have to say I disagree with Tolstoy about him (of course, in the Dostoevsky versus Tolstoy debate, my favorite is the former).

For my next read, I went back to Google Books for The Unfortunate Traveler. I'm still trying to finish off the pre 1700s, of which I have six to go (which would be much more impressive, except there are only 13 on the pre 1700s list).

I think that it's a bad sign when your main point of musing from a book is that it might be interesting to do a study on the ways portrayals of rape have changed over time. Really, this book lives up to its title. It's very unfortunate; I guess I thought it would be a bit of a satire, but it's not. Mostly it's a catalog of terrible things that happened to this guy and the people he runs into. But hey, at least now we've past the half-way point for the pre 1700s.

We Are Not Alone

I was browsing The Economist, and saw this fascinating little article. It's always exciting to encounter another list-er! Sometimes it's easy to feel like you are the only one out there.

I found many of his insights and musings to be spot on. He writes "There are pros and cons to these books, though it’s sometimes hard to know which is which: they’re not ranked, so readers have less guidance even as the publishes enjoy more freedom to include “essential” works that are interesting, rather than good; their size makes them unwieldy (but impressively aspirational!); and, of course, they’re subjective (four works by Dostoevsky crack the “1001 Books” list—“The Brothers Karamozov” is not among them). For all their flaws the “1001” series is, for my money, the paragon of lists: a perfect end-product of their fundamental appeal."

He then goes on to list why he loves lists like these, and I agreed with many of his points, particularly "They provide necessary middle- to highbrow intellectual fortitude for recalcitrant reading." So true, my friend. There's no other reason I made it through The Trick is to Keep Breathing. He also gave me some new things to think about in terms of this project, like the idea that "They [1001 lists] are fundamentally optimistic."

I was surprised, though, that he is tackling multiple lists (movies to see, albums to listen to, etc.), which suggests a devotion to lists, yes, but not the single-mindedness necessary to actually complete the list (which is my ultimate reading goal). Also, he argues that one should read the list in order from oldest to newest. I can see that it would be fascinating to do the project that way, would provide some useful insights, and would ground the works in context (to a certain extent; not every book is a response to previous books). At the same time, I could not do the project that way. I need to bounce around to stay sane (or what passes for sanity for me, anyway).

Also, I totally disagree with his thoughts on Pamela. As you may recall, dear reader, I really hated that book, and I don't think it's virtue rewarded at all.

Technology Makes Me Bad

I have rules for a reason. Trust me. Without rules, I would eat ice cream every day and never go to the gym, and that my friends, would not be a pretty picture.

This project has rules for a reason as well. Though certain rules like, "if you start a book you must finish," might intuitively seem the most important, for me the one that absolutely matters most is "read one book at a time." If you just start books willy-nilly, you a) don't actually finish them, and b) start down a slippery slope of just adding book after book to the list of ones that you've started but haven't even made a serious dent in.

Generally, I have been great at sticking to this rule (actually, I'm pretty good at sticking to all of my rules for this project; go me!). Lately, though, technology has started to hurt my discipline.

I completely blame Google Books. It is far, far, far, far too easy to start a new book. . . and another. . . and another. Of course, it is helping me to easily get new books, which may at least help balance the problems it is causing. Still, I need to be better about not starting so many (or be better about choosing them, since The House By the Medlar Tree and Marius the Epicurian aren't the most compelling options, which may be why I'm having commitment issues).

There Have Been Quite a Few Murders Lately

Or so it seems. I may choose my books fairly randomly, but sometimes patterns seem to emerge. Or else people are just really interested in what motivates murder and what the act of murder does to the murderer. Or else it's just a weird fluke. Or else there's some cosmic message for me here.

Anyway, Alias Grace wasn't exactly a fun read, but it's definitely my favorite Margaret Atwood thus far. It's a somewhat unsettling read, certainly, and it doesn't have any solid catharsis. Yeesh. I should have more to say about this book. Essentially, the novel is a fictionalized account of a somewhat infamous 19th century murder in Canada. The murder gained notoriety because the accused and convicted murderers included a young girl who was a servant in the household.

Despite her conviction and years spent in prison, there were questions even at the time of both her guilt and her sanity. The novel explores both, and as I said, it doesn't necessarily leave you with a satisfying answer. The story is strongest when it focuses on Grace and her experiences, I found the doctor's story significantly less compelling and even somewhat detracting.

For kicks, after that one I decided to read The Human Stain. I wouldn't recommend it for beach reading, that's for sure. It does present a number of interesting questions about the meanings of race, identity, family, and how we define roles for ourselves and others.However, the book never really resonated with me. It was fine and possibly interesting even in a cerebral way, but it never got beyond that for me.

Like oh so many books, the protagonist is a writer/novelist. I'm fascinated by how many stories do that, particularly when the writer is almost a non-character in the story, a cipher observing but not really involved in the story. It makes me think of Roger's criticism of Mark in Rent. I do wonder if some authors think of themselves that way in life, or if it just comes across that way in these kind of stories.