We have now read 1/3rd of the books on the list! Maybe not quite as clean a milestone as the quarter mark, but still exciting for me. Clearly the next milestone - the half-way mark - will really be the main one. That said, I'm going to celebrate every reasonable chance I can with these; primarily, that will mean the quarter, third, half, two-thirds, and three-quarters marks, but I also get a little excited about any of the 100 marks.
So, what am I doing to celebrate? Getting a massage! Now, I know what you are thinking: but you don't like being touched! And you are right. Generally speaking, I really don't like being touched. However, there are two main exceptions: 1) massages, 2) having my mom brush my hair. Now, I can't actually explain why those two exceptions are true, because yes, in most circumstances I'm not a fan of being touched.
In strange coincidence news, the book for this milestone was Brighton Rock; I'm not sure why, but Graham Greene seems to be the milestone author for me. I wonder if I have enough of his left to keep on with this pattern.
Showing posts with label Graham Greene. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graham Greene. Show all posts
Friday, January 27, 2012
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I Love You, Because You Know Such Lovely People
Sometimes this project is rather like taking nasty-tasting medicine; there's not other way but through, so you just have to suck it up. I've had a few books along the way that have matched that analogy quite nicely, but the most unpleasant I have read (probably the most unpleasant book I have ever read) is The Wasp Factory. Good gravy. The basic plot of this story is that you have this very morbid teenager whose hobbies mostly involve a machine to kill wasps in a number of unique ways, collecting dead animal heads (which often involves killing the animals), and musing about the three murders he has committed. He indicates that he's killed his younger brother and two cousins; we'll return to that in a moment.
In addition to this lovely human being, we also get his brother who, at the start of the novel, has just escaped from a mental institution where he has been confined for doing such charming things as setting dogs on fire and giving small children lumps of dirt with maggots and worms in them. Yes indeedy.
The novel has a bit of a twist (though it's hard to really care about, because by then you just want to be done and take a hot shower), about which I have extremely mixed feelings. Extremely. I won't really go into it, but let's just say that gender is a very complicated topic to raise and I think even with the twist some aspects of this novel's treatment of gender are pretty problematic.
That said, it did raise for me some questions about unreliable narrators and what it even means to be an unreliable narrator in a fictional story, since there's not reality to be unreliable with regard to, really. I'm not sure if our lead is supposed to come off as potentially unreliable, but I did wonder at times. Which then led me down this rabbit hole of what it even means, etc. which, sadly, was the most interesting aspect of this book for me. So icky. Really a shame, too, because Iain Banks is hot.
I also read another Graham Greene, The End of the Affair. Which, okay, fine whatever, it was good an all, and had some interesting characters and a cool structure. But, the thing is, it's really just like ever other Greene novel that I have read; which is to say, so obsessed with this weird sort of Catholic guilt, this intense need for Catholicism, combined with this need for some sort of divine Catholic approval and a simultaneous hatred of Catholicism. It's hard to describe in a way that would really capture what I mean exactly, unless you've read a few of Greene's books, but suffice it to say: yeesh, dude, get over it.
In addition to this lovely human being, we also get his brother who, at the start of the novel, has just escaped from a mental institution where he has been confined for doing such charming things as setting dogs on fire and giving small children lumps of dirt with maggots and worms in them. Yes indeedy.
The novel has a bit of a twist (though it's hard to really care about, because by then you just want to be done and take a hot shower), about which I have extremely mixed feelings. Extremely. I won't really go into it, but let's just say that gender is a very complicated topic to raise and I think even with the twist some aspects of this novel's treatment of gender are pretty problematic.
That said, it did raise for me some questions about unreliable narrators and what it even means to be an unreliable narrator in a fictional story, since there's not reality to be unreliable with regard to, really. I'm not sure if our lead is supposed to come off as potentially unreliable, but I did wonder at times. Which then led me down this rabbit hole of what it even means, etc. which, sadly, was the most interesting aspect of this book for me. So icky. Really a shame, too, because Iain Banks is hot.
I also read another Graham Greene, The End of the Affair. Which, okay, fine whatever, it was good an all, and had some interesting characters and a cool structure. But, the thing is, it's really just like ever other Greene novel that I have read; which is to say, so obsessed with this weird sort of Catholic guilt, this intense need for Catholicism, combined with this need for some sort of divine Catholic approval and a simultaneous hatred of Catholicism. It's hard to describe in a way that would really capture what I mean exactly, unless you've read a few of Greene's books, but suffice it to say: yeesh, dude, get over it.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Quietly Upset
So, I know that The Quiet American is supposed to be Greene's masterpiece or whatever, but I must say it was probably my least favorite of his that I have read. Well, maybe second least favorite, but still, not exactly a fan. I know that movies have been coming up lately, but maybe I need to see the movie on this one. I think it actually is available on Instant Watch. I think that this one more than the others by Greene that I have read really made the women non characters, even though in a way the story more than the others revolved around a woman.
It's strange. I would say that in the previous Greene novels that I've read, women are never the focus exactly, but they always felt real in some way. Sort of like, yes they aren't the main character of this book (often more a catalyst), but they are the main character of their own story. In this one, she didn't feel like she could be the main character of her own story. Almost as though she wasn't a person in the way the male characters were. I was definitely intrigued by the ending of this one. Not what I had expected, I must say.
I guess the common theme of this post is, I liked other books more. The Unconsoled is definitely my least favorite Ishiguro that I have read. Now, I loved Never Let Me Go, and Remains of the Day is exquisite, so that's important context. The Unconsoled is still masterful and beautiful in many ways. Unfortunately, it is also a bit maddening.
The basic plot of the story is that this man shows up in the small town to give a concert, and he has no memory of agreeing to do the concert. It has an almost Alice-in-Wonderland quality to it, since reality and relationships are always shifting in a dreamlike way. The story also explores rules and the folly of adhering to them in strict, nonsensical ways (foolish consistency and all of that), which is a fascinating device when you consider that the novel changes its own rules along the way in some ways. So, from a craft perspective it's amazing, but I always get so annoyed with characters who seem to be causing their own problems (it's why Kafka makes me crazy).
It's strange. I would say that in the previous Greene novels that I've read, women are never the focus exactly, but they always felt real in some way. Sort of like, yes they aren't the main character of this book (often more a catalyst), but they are the main character of their own story. In this one, she didn't feel like she could be the main character of her own story. Almost as though she wasn't a person in the way the male characters were. I was definitely intrigued by the ending of this one. Not what I had expected, I must say.
I guess the common theme of this post is, I liked other books more. The Unconsoled is definitely my least favorite Ishiguro that I have read. Now, I loved Never Let Me Go, and Remains of the Day is exquisite, so that's important context. The Unconsoled is still masterful and beautiful in many ways. Unfortunately, it is also a bit maddening.
The basic plot of the story is that this man shows up in the small town to give a concert, and he has no memory of agreeing to do the concert. It has an almost Alice-in-Wonderland quality to it, since reality and relationships are always shifting in a dreamlike way. The story also explores rules and the folly of adhering to them in strict, nonsensical ways (foolish consistency and all of that), which is a fascinating device when you consider that the novel changes its own rules along the way in some ways. So, from a craft perspective it's amazing, but I always get so annoyed with characters who seem to be causing their own problems (it's why Kafka makes me crazy).
Monday, April 11, 2011
Vonnegut Faze
I believe that Slaughterhouse Five was my first Vonnegut. I could be wrong about that, but I do not think so. For some incredibly inexplicable reason, I always sort of lump Vonnegut, Kafka, and Faulkner together in my head. This really makes absolutely no sense. It's not like I mix them up or anything, I just lump them together the way I do Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Dostoevsky, for example, but at least that lumping makes sense. Vonnegut, Kafka, and Faulkner really have nothing in common. They don't even have a letter in common. Ah, well.
Anyway, stories about war are an interesting genre. This one had several laugh-out-loud moments, but like many war novels, it's focus is the senselessness of war, which isn't exactly a cheery theme. Since it's my first Vonnegut, I can't really make any intelligent remarks about his style or anything. I have no idea if this is an exemplar or an outlier. From a craft perspective, it's method of construction is intriguing. Of course, the problem with telling a story about non-linear time is that we do experience time linearly, more or less at least. Thus, even though the story may be told in chunks with some jumping around, it's not really disorienting or truly non-linear within each chunk. That said, the structure works and brings out the novels themes rather than distracting from them.
The Power and the Glory was my third Greene. Man, this guy thinks about Catholicism all the time! It's sort of exhausting. Not only does he think about Catholicism, it seems to give him a rather high-level of anxiety. I think he needs to calm down a bit. Every novel of his that I have read has taken place in a vastly different geographical context, which is interesting. Many writers essentially settle down in familiar areas. Like the other ones of his that I have read, the ending is not a surprise; the story is on a collision course with the ending and that's obvious from the beginning. That doesn't detract from the story at all, but it's an another intriguing trend of his.
His female characters fascinate me. On the one hand, they are often peripheral to the story in many ways. They move in and out of focus, and aren't ever the leads. However, they drive the story in subtle ways and are as real as the leads. They are neither Madonnas nor whores, instead occupying a more complex space, and some are quite original (the young girl in this one is particularly excellent). This particular novel would be particularly interesting to analyze in juxtaposition with The Scarlet Letter.
Anyway, stories about war are an interesting genre. This one had several laugh-out-loud moments, but like many war novels, it's focus is the senselessness of war, which isn't exactly a cheery theme. Since it's my first Vonnegut, I can't really make any intelligent remarks about his style or anything. I have no idea if this is an exemplar or an outlier. From a craft perspective, it's method of construction is intriguing. Of course, the problem with telling a story about non-linear time is that we do experience time linearly, more or less at least. Thus, even though the story may be told in chunks with some jumping around, it's not really disorienting or truly non-linear within each chunk. That said, the structure works and brings out the novels themes rather than distracting from them.
The Power and the Glory was my third Greene. Man, this guy thinks about Catholicism all the time! It's sort of exhausting. Not only does he think about Catholicism, it seems to give him a rather high-level of anxiety. I think he needs to calm down a bit. Every novel of his that I have read has taken place in a vastly different geographical context, which is interesting. Many writers essentially settle down in familiar areas. Like the other ones of his that I have read, the ending is not a surprise; the story is on a collision course with the ending and that's obvious from the beginning. That doesn't detract from the story at all, but it's an another intriguing trend of his.
His female characters fascinate me. On the one hand, they are often peripheral to the story in many ways. They move in and out of focus, and aren't ever the leads. However, they drive the story in subtle ways and are as real as the leads. They are neither Madonnas nor whores, instead occupying a more complex space, and some are quite original (the young girl in this one is particularly excellent). This particular novel would be particularly interesting to analyze in juxtaposition with The Scarlet Letter.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
250 Down, 751 To Go!
Yay! Go me! I'm not exactly sure that The Power and the Glory is quite epic enough for this milestone, but there you go. It was a fun enough read, and I'll write more on it and Slaughterhouse Five in a bit. However, I just wanted to write this little post in celebration. Next weekend I am going to have a cookie to celebrate (since there is a bakery I want to visit in Georgetown). I also do plan to buy my favorite book from the first 250; the challenge there is that I still can't decide between The Ground Beneath Her Feet and The Forsyte Saga. We shall see.
In other news, my next read is The Shining. This should be interesting, since I really have no idea what it is about or any preconceived notions about it. From reading the back of the book, I have learned that it takes place in a hotel. I think that's a good sign, since I rather like hotels.
In other news, my next read is The Shining. This should be interesting, since I really have no idea what it is about or any preconceived notions about it. From reading the back of the book, I have learned that it takes place in a hotel. I think that's a good sign, since I rather like hotels.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Metaphorical Body Parts
The entire time that I read The Heart of the Matter, I kept thinking that it really should be a Bogart film or some such. There was a film adaption sometime around 1950 I guess, but I didn’t recognize any of the actors. The story feels incredibly claustrophobic. I know Heart of Darkness is supposed to feel that way, but it has nothing on Greene’s novel.
Despite being a very masculine novel in many ways, it has two interesting female characters. Louise manages to be fairly likeable, which is somewhat surprising considering. I also didn’t expect to like Helen, but I did (another Helen that I identified with; yeesh). I love the scene where Scobie is reading a story to a young boy who is very ill, and he makes it into an adventure novel when it isn’t and Helen overhears. I can see why she’d be interested in him after that; so many authors do poor couple meetings.
The main theme is Catholicism/Scobie’s shifting morality (or apparently shifting; I think that is open for debate). Suicide absolutely fascinates me, particularly the way different societies and religions address it. It might be a morbid fascinating (okay, let’s be honest, it is morbid), but I think how we view suicide and its meanings tells us a lot about ourselves.
In contrast to that mostly straightforward novel, Eyeless in Gaza is rather disorienting at first. It’s essentially non linear (I saw essentially, since the chapters bounce around to different times, but the different times present linearly, so it’s like several different times are interspersed, but they’re individually in order).
While this narrative choice takes some getting used to, I ultimately really liked it, since it allows themes that wouldn’t necessarily be obvious to come out. It also makes for unusually climaxes, and does a better job of showing the complexity of a human life than a usual presentation of time would. Some of the stories were more interesting to me than others, though, and it is rather long.
That being said, I really have no idea what the significance of the title is; I really do not.
Despite being a very masculine novel in many ways, it has two interesting female characters. Louise manages to be fairly likeable, which is somewhat surprising considering. I also didn’t expect to like Helen, but I did (another Helen that I identified with; yeesh). I love the scene where Scobie is reading a story to a young boy who is very ill, and he makes it into an adventure novel when it isn’t and Helen overhears. I can see why she’d be interested in him after that; so many authors do poor couple meetings.
The main theme is Catholicism/Scobie’s shifting morality (or apparently shifting; I think that is open for debate). Suicide absolutely fascinates me, particularly the way different societies and religions address it. It might be a morbid fascinating (okay, let’s be honest, it is morbid), but I think how we view suicide and its meanings tells us a lot about ourselves.
In contrast to that mostly straightforward novel, Eyeless in Gaza is rather disorienting at first. It’s essentially non linear (I saw essentially, since the chapters bounce around to different times, but the different times present linearly, so it’s like several different times are interspersed, but they’re individually in order).
While this narrative choice takes some getting used to, I ultimately really liked it, since it allows themes that wouldn’t necessarily be obvious to come out. It also makes for unusually climaxes, and does a better job of showing the complexity of a human life than a usual presentation of time would. Some of the stories were more interesting to me than others, though, and it is rather long.
That being said, I really have no idea what the significance of the title is; I really do not.
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