Why I need a book deal

Okay, so I don't actually need a book deal. Aside from water, food, shelter, and oxygen one really doesn't need all that much. That said, I feel like I would really benefit from a book deal, because I hate ice breakers. Here is my (rock solid, air tight, hole proof) logic:

If I got a book deal, then the book could be very popular, and then someone could option it for a film, and then they could make a movie about me, and then a celebrity would play me, and then whenever I had to answer either the "interesting fact about yourself" or the "which celebrity would play you in a movie," questions that inevitably are part of most ice breakers, I'd have an amazing answer.

Meanwhile, until I can say, "well, since so-and-so did play me in a movie, clearly her," I keep telling my only semi-amusing Helena Bonham-Carter story.

I'm kind of awesome

This is another instance where I am inordinately and unreasonably please with myself. Yes, I have done it. I have read Ulysses. Now, I do realize that there are plenty of people out there who have already read this book, including incredibly enough some who have read it multiple times and some who love it. However, I still think I deserve some recognition for getting through this one. Go me!

What a weird little book. I mean, really. I am glad that I had read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Dubliners, and The Odyssey before wading into this one, that's for sure. It also helped that I had some familiarity with the book as well (I was excited when I got to Molly's inner monologue, since I've read references it to it before).

Perhaps my excitement does need to be tempered somewhat, because I must say that I didn't really get that much out of this one. It wasn't as difficult or bizarre as I had expected, I mean it certainly does change style and tone frequently and I wouldn't call it your traditionally structured novel by any means, but overall it had a plot and characters (which is more than you can say for the list works of some Irish authors). I could always follow it, and having the Odyssey as a guide certainly helped.

Side note, but the trouble with the Odyssey is that it always makes me think of Wishbone, specifically the Odyssey computer game. That was a tripy game. I'm glad Wishbone never tried to do Ulysses. That would have been bad. And you may say, they never would have, but they did Faust for goodness sake. Faust!

Back on track, there were some sections I liked more than others. I did not care for the part written like a play script. My favorite part was probably the question and answer essay part. It might have been exhaustion on my part, but I found a lot of that seriously hilarious. I'm not sure that I was supposed to, though.

Anyway, I should probably go read some literary criticism on this one to see what I was supposed to get out of it.

Do you hear the people sing? Or, As long as he needs me

The other day I was thinking that I should do a post about musicals based on books that are on the list; the only problem was that I could only think of two that would really work, where I've both read the book and seen the musical: Les Miserables and Oliver Twist. Now, I am not a fan of either the book or the musical of either of these, so I don't really want to do an in-depth comparison. Suffice it to say that I found both musicals to be overly long and pretentious, and both books were kind of sloggy for me.

If I had to choose, I would choose the musical of Les Miserables, because some of the songs really are very beautiful, but overall I'm not a fan. There are two kinds of people in this world, those who think the Thenardiers are hilarious, and those who think they are irritating, insufferable, grating, unfunny, and given way too much time on stage. You may be able to guess which kind of person I am.

This isn't to say that there isn't more musical/1001 list overlap. In many cases, though, I've just listened to the soundtrack. I definitely want to see Jane Eyre and Jekyll and Hyde. I'm a fan of both soundtracks, and I adore Jane Eyre (Jekyll and Hyde I can do without as a book, but the musical is great). I'd also be interested in seeing Woman in White, though I have some issues with it/it doesn't solve many of my problems with the book (interesting tidbit, but Phantom of the Opera isn't on the list; I've seen that one many times, though).

There are also some list books with little known, short lived musicals like Dracula and A Tale of Two Cities. I'm particularly interested in Dracula, but I've never had luck with finding too much of the soundtrack (actually, there are multiple musical versions of this one). I haven't read Ragtime yet, so I can't comment on that one really at all, though I have a very strong feeling that the musical will far and away trump the book.

Oh, wait! I just thought of three more: Little Women, Cabaret, and Candide. Go figure. I wonder how many of these I would be able to think of if I really put in a more concerted effort. Anyway, there are many songs from the Little Women musical that I love, but nothing can compete with the book (but I certainly cry during pretty much the whole second act), Cabaret worked better for me as a musical (maybe sense they could show the cabaret, perhaps?), and Candide I'm again fairly meh on overall for both versions. It's a little heavy handed, and the musical is crazy long. But the version I saw was really good.

I should try to think of some more (though I'm not sure this was a very insightful post).

Happy Bloomsday!

I wish I could say that my decision to read Ulysses right now had been made to intentionally coincide with Bloomsday, but no, pure coincidence. I'm not that good. In any case, I hope that you do something to celebrate.

Score!

Sometimes, the list project can get you down or seem like a waste of time. And then you read something you know you wouldn't have read otherwise, you fall in love, and suddenly everything is right again.

Life of Pi was one of those reads for me. It's one I had seen all the time at bookstores before, and one that I had never had any interest in reading. But I absolutely fell in love. It is so, so, so good. I love it on so many levels and for so many reasons. If you haven't read it, do. Go. I'll wait.

....

Wasn't that beautiful? It presents so many fascinating ideas and questions. Obviously religion and humans' relationships with animals are the two main themes (which intersect and cascade in such breathtaking ways), and they give the novel structure and force, but there are many other themes and questions (What makes a life worth living? What drives us to survive? What is a story?). The structure of the story is so compelling; I felt a conflict with wanting to read it quickly because of the tension and wanting to savor it because of the beauty. It's surprisingly funny, and some of the passages are so beautiful. The characters are lovingly drawn. I am particularly in love with Pi's relationship with Richard Parker, and all the levels and questions that one relationship creates. I also just loved Pi's voice as the narrator. I can't even really explain why.

There is a quote on the cover of the edition I read from the Los Angeles Tmes Book Review: "A story to make you believe in the soul sustaining power of fiction," That really is a perfect description. It's such an affirming read.

Whenever I read something like this, I want to run out and recommend it to everyone. The problem with something like that, though, is that many do not fall in love with it. I do tend to love Indian novels and novels of the Indian Diaspora (God of Small Things, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, The Moor's Last Sigh, The Namesake), so if you don't love such novels this may not be one for you.

I also have a thing for Russian novels. Even though the Russian greats had some disagreements amongst themselves about Turgenev, I like him. So there, take that Tolstoy or Dostoevsky or whichever one of you it is who doesn't like Turgenev.

Spring Torrents is seriously, seriously Russian (spoilers: Russian guy in Frankfurt meets beautiful girl, misses train, is broke, meets girl's fiancee, fights a duel with a random person over her honor, she breaks up with fiancee, he attempts to get money, meets sort of horrible but rich woman whom he is sexually attracted to, leaves first love interest to pursue a shallow and ultimately soul-crushing life with horrible woman, and looks back on life with regret later). It also is strangely compelling. I think because it has this internal balance that makes it satisfying rather than frustrating, if you can just wallow in the Russian-ness of it all.This is what cold weather does to people, I think.

How do I get that job?

Recently I mocked some of the delightful and scintillating discussion questions in the book of Robinson Crusoe, and I feel compelled to take up this topic once more. The discussion questions at the back of Life of Pi are equally excellent, hard as that is to believe.

Some of my favorites include:

Nearly everyone experiences a turning point that represents the transition from youth to adulthood, albeit seldom as traumatic as Pi's [ya think?]. What event marked your coming of age?

How might the novel's flavor have been changed if the sole surviving animal had been the zebra with the broken leg? . . . Or the hyena?. . . Which animal would you like to find yourself with on a lifeboat?

Pi imagines that his brother would have teasingly called him Noah. How does Pi's voyage compare to the biblical story of Noah?

I can't help but picture someone taking an essay exam with these questions, and answering that last one with "They both were stuck on boats."

This all does rather beg the question, though, who writes these discussion questions? And more importantly, how can I become one of those people? Seriously. I have lots of insipid ideas to inspire intellectual interchanges at book clubs.

No One Likes the British or Buses

I know that in the past I have complained about (or at least made frequent note of) instances where the two books I am set to write about have nothing in coming, thus making a coherent post challenging. These two really do have nothing in common, but in some ways they are ripe for comparison because they could hardly be more different from a style perspective.

Castle Richmond is pretty much exactly what you think a mid 19th century British novel should be. It is self-consciously a novel, the author talks to the reader and makes comments about himself, acknowledging that this is a story, a constructed world. It's your classic love story with decaying aristocracy, over-bearing relatives, sinister and scheming characters who get what they deserve, and lots of life of leisure events like day-long picnic excursions and parties. Everything is, of course, resolved by the right people marrying each other. Hooray!

Jacob's Room, however, is nothing like that. It's not even really a story. When reading Woolf, it always helps me to remember this article I read that talks about her novels as being very impressionistic. I'm not a Woolf fan, but coming from that lens helps me appreciate her, and that was particularly the case for this one. The world is constructed and conveyed in that impressionistic style, and to the extent that we ever get close to the titular character, he is similarly constructed. I don't think that I got too much out of this one, since existential angst doesn't do a ton for me. But I always like reading about British people going to Italy.

Back to Castle Richmond for a small bone to pick (or really not so small, but I'm letting it go): Trollope describes Clara as the heroine of the story, but that is far from the word I would use. She doesn't get to do anything except sit around and wait for all the people in her life to work out whom she should marry. Seriously. Yes, she is sort of the eye of the hurricane of the story in many ways, but she is not a heroine. She's less developed and interesting than your average Disney princess.

And now for somethng we hope you'll really like

Robinson Crusoe is definitely one of those reads where you really can't help but have preconceived notions about it going in. I've mentioned some of them before, actually, and they certainly shaped my read of this book (I as so thrilled that there were earthquakes!). I suppose that I should appreciate this book for what it did for the English novel (say, start it), but all things considered, I found it rather hard to appreciate this book at all.

First, it really reminded me of the types of stories I would create as a child. These were stories that were largely lists and inventories. I wasn't happy unless I had listed out exactly everything a family owned in their house on the prairie, or I had listed out what the young heroines were able to salvage from the shipwreck for their island life, or I had listed out exactly what food the company was going to eat on what days during their quest. Notice a pattern? This is probably why I loved Oregon Trail so much. The first step was always creating that massive inventory of stuff! Which is fine for a retro computer game, and sort of okay for the stores of an eleven year old, but it gets pretty old to read pretty quickly, and good gracious, that was really the extent of the novel in many ways. I am not kidding.

Of course, one could also discuss many of the lovely themes of the novel, such as colonialism and racism. Or, if you are feeling particularly daring, perhaps you would like to tackle some of the scintillating discussion questions helpfully included in the back of the Modern Library edition that I read, such as, "How does what we now call the Protestant work ethic pervade Defoe's novel? Robinson seems to channel all of his energy into the pursuit of manual labor, the story is a series of daily routines and a tribute to work. . . Is his newfound work ethic accompanied by a spiritual awakening? (I'll give you a hint, the answer starts with a Y). I love that they call that section of the book "Reading Group Guide." Are there really book clubs out there reading Robinson Crusoe? Really?

Anyway, for fun, here is a tour of my childhood:

Another Post Not By Me

But can we say amen?