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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
These boots were made for walking
Earlier I wrote a post about the role of pacing in how I experience a novel. Cloudsplitter is an interesting example to consider in this light. First, some quick background. This is a historical novel about the life of Owen Brown, the son of John Brown of the famous Harpers Ferry raid. In some ways, it's equally about John Brown as seen through the lens of Owen Brown (as seen through this fictional account, of course, but there you go). It is also very long, and since I had a hardback edition, not particularly portable. I actually broke one of my rules and read a couple of shorter books while reading this one, since it wasn't super fun to lug it all over creation. I don't like doing a book for home and a book for the bus/gym, but in this case it seemed the best option.
The pace of the novel lent itself to this approach, since it really is a very thorough life story, beginning with the protagonist as a young child (will, it's told in a series of letters he's writing, so technically at the start he's an old man, but whatever) and traversing up to the raid. It's a very meditative novel, so a meditative reading approach fit well. The character really is reflecting on his life and it's meaning, not simply recounting the events.
A major issue of concern to the narrator is, of course, race. Throughout the novel, he struggles with his internal racist feelings, and his rational knowledge and external stance which is aligned with his father's very radical views for the time. This struggle is central to his character, and really is the center of the novel as a whole. I can't imagine a book club ever actually being able to get through this one because it is so long, but I think it would be an excellent choice if people were willing to really engage with it (I imagine it would make many white people feel rather uncomfortable if they're completely honest).
I'm familiar with the basic outlines of the raid and John Brown's life, but I should read some more to get a better sense for how to judge the novels account of all of this. I don't know enough to really know the fictional aspects from the historical facts (aside from the obvious pieces, of course).
If you are the kind of person who likes books on tape, it might also be a good choice for an extremely, extremely long road trip.
The pace of the novel lent itself to this approach, since it really is a very thorough life story, beginning with the protagonist as a young child (will, it's told in a series of letters he's writing, so technically at the start he's an old man, but whatever) and traversing up to the raid. It's a very meditative novel, so a meditative reading approach fit well. The character really is reflecting on his life and it's meaning, not simply recounting the events.
A major issue of concern to the narrator is, of course, race. Throughout the novel, he struggles with his internal racist feelings, and his rational knowledge and external stance which is aligned with his father's very radical views for the time. This struggle is central to his character, and really is the center of the novel as a whole. I can't imagine a book club ever actually being able to get through this one because it is so long, but I think it would be an excellent choice if people were willing to really engage with it (I imagine it would make many white people feel rather uncomfortable if they're completely honest).
I'm familiar with the basic outlines of the raid and John Brown's life, but I should read some more to get a better sense for how to judge the novels account of all of this. I don't know enough to really know the fictional aspects from the historical facts (aside from the obvious pieces, of course).
If you are the kind of person who likes books on tape, it might also be a good choice for an extremely, extremely long road trip.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
I plan to be serious when I grow up
One thing that I have noticed is that people at the gym do tend to have opinions about my reading habits. Here is a relatively recent example.
I'm sitting waiting patiently for my first Saturday dance class - reading Cloudsplitter, in case you're curious - when the hip-hop teacher approaches me, plops his hands on the table, and delivers the following mini-speech:
"Every time I see you, you're always reading. . ." long pause as we both contemplate where this is going. "Which is great, but you can also relax."
This story is probably funnier if you know both of us.
Bonus points if you get the titular reference.
I'm sitting waiting patiently for my first Saturday dance class - reading Cloudsplitter, in case you're curious - when the hip-hop teacher approaches me, plops his hands on the table, and delivers the following mini-speech:
"Every time I see you, you're always reading. . ." long pause as we both contemplate where this is going. "Which is great, but you can also relax."
This story is probably funnier if you know both of us.
Bonus points if you get the titular reference.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
You're Just Reading These Now?
Awhile ago I noted that there are three categories of books on the list. These two decidedly fall in the category of books that people are surprised I haven't read. In some ways, those are the least exciting ones. Anyway, here goes.
The Color Purple is rather the sort of book that you're glad to have read, but not glad while reading it. I was sort of dreading it, even though I knew that it would be excellent. Definitely lived up to expectations on both counts. Yes, it's haunting, painful, beautiful work. It's also extremely, extremely triggering. Ultimately, it was more uplifting and I guess affirming than I had expected, but still, super triggering.
I certainly am not the target audience for Catcher in the Rye. It left me feeling rather the same way that Franny and Zooey did, which I suppose makes sense. I decided to read it in a quick sitting, and I'm glad that I did. It's one that I just wanted to get behind me.
It's another one of those reads that it's hard not to have other associations with, since it pops up so much in other literary and pop culture. Depressingly enough, though, the only example I can think of is a Full House episode. That is seriously, seriously pathetic.
The Color Purple is rather the sort of book that you're glad to have read, but not glad while reading it. I was sort of dreading it, even though I knew that it would be excellent. Definitely lived up to expectations on both counts. Yes, it's haunting, painful, beautiful work. It's also extremely, extremely triggering. Ultimately, it was more uplifting and I guess affirming than I had expected, but still, super triggering.
I certainly am not the target audience for Catcher in the Rye. It left me feeling rather the same way that Franny and Zooey did, which I suppose makes sense. I decided to read it in a quick sitting, and I'm glad that I did. It's one that I just wanted to get behind me.
It's another one of those reads that it's hard not to have other associations with, since it pops up so much in other literary and pop culture. Depressingly enough, though, the only example I can think of is a Full House episode. That is seriously, seriously pathetic.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Playing Catch Up Again
Okay, fine, I'm not a very good blogger. I acknowledge this. I own this as part of my personality. Deal.
Let's talk about Cloud Atlas. I actually really want to, because this book was amazing. Amazing. I loved it. I need to find the librarian again who checked me out, since he said it was on of his favorite books, and I should tell him that now it is one of mine.
Basically, it is this sandwich of stories, starting with an explorer in the 19th century that felt Master and Commander-ish, then abruptly jumping to a composer in the 1930s who would be at home with Evelyn Waugh characters, then jumping to a thriller/mystery involving an investigative journalist and a nuclear plant, a semi-modern day story about a publisher's escape from a retirement home, a dystopian futuristic world with a clone for slave labor, and then a post-apocalyptic, almost stone-age like story. And then it loops back through all of them.
There is so much one could say about this, though clearly the first thing is, go read it! The description on the cover of the book calls it dazzling, and truly, that's such an apt word. It simply is dazzling. The way the different stories connect with each other, and what this says about the nature and role of stories, legends, and truth is fascinating. The most fun story was the composer one. It's quite hilarious, and also heartbreaking in light of one of the other stories. My favorite, though, was the second-to-last one. I know the final story is sort of the heart of the novel, but so many of the novel's themes seemed to really come out with this one, particularly relating to truth and how truth can have such a complex relationship with stories, legends, and truth as we perceive it.
The two main themes of the story are: rewriting/retelling of the past, and human beings willingness, sometimes eagerness, to enslave one another or exploit one another. Both permeate the various stories in interesting ways, and I'd love to write an exploration of how those two themes interact with each other. You could also do so many interesting academic papers comparing two of the stories. It would be great for a class, because you could all read the book, but everyone could pick whichever two they wanted for the comparison.
After this, I read Hawksmoor. This also played with time and typical narrative construction, since it involved an architect in the late 1700s and a modern CID Detective (okay, I'm too lazy to look up whether that is redundant; oh, the Brits). It was all right, but not a favorite. Basically, it was all about reason and the edges of human reason. And doesn't that sound like fun?
Let's talk about Cloud Atlas. I actually really want to, because this book was amazing. Amazing. I loved it. I need to find the librarian again who checked me out, since he said it was on of his favorite books, and I should tell him that now it is one of mine.
Basically, it is this sandwich of stories, starting with an explorer in the 19th century that felt Master and Commander-ish, then abruptly jumping to a composer in the 1930s who would be at home with Evelyn Waugh characters, then jumping to a thriller/mystery involving an investigative journalist and a nuclear plant, a semi-modern day story about a publisher's escape from a retirement home, a dystopian futuristic world with a clone for slave labor, and then a post-apocalyptic, almost stone-age like story. And then it loops back through all of them.
There is so much one could say about this, though clearly the first thing is, go read it! The description on the cover of the book calls it dazzling, and truly, that's such an apt word. It simply is dazzling. The way the different stories connect with each other, and what this says about the nature and role of stories, legends, and truth is fascinating. The most fun story was the composer one. It's quite hilarious, and also heartbreaking in light of one of the other stories. My favorite, though, was the second-to-last one. I know the final story is sort of the heart of the novel, but so many of the novel's themes seemed to really come out with this one, particularly relating to truth and how truth can have such a complex relationship with stories, legends, and truth as we perceive it.
The two main themes of the story are: rewriting/retelling of the past, and human beings willingness, sometimes eagerness, to enslave one another or exploit one another. Both permeate the various stories in interesting ways, and I'd love to write an exploration of how those two themes interact with each other. You could also do so many interesting academic papers comparing two of the stories. It would be great for a class, because you could all read the book, but everyone could pick whichever two they wanted for the comparison.
After this, I read Hawksmoor. This also played with time and typical narrative construction, since it involved an architect in the late 1700s and a modern CID Detective (okay, I'm too lazy to look up whether that is redundant; oh, the Brits). It was all right, but not a favorite. Basically, it was all about reason and the edges of human reason. And doesn't that sound like fun?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
What is the Name of this Post?
Sometimes I think that many literary authors must have had terrible experiences with filing out paperwork or applying for state ID cards or something. Seriously.
Spoiler alert!
So, this first books is about a guy who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral and then gets executed. Again I say, seriously. That's really the plot. It's either called The Stranger or The Outsider depending on your translation, and it's the first book by Albert Camus. Now, I loved The Plague, but The Outsider didn't do all that much for me. It was rather Kafka-esque, and I have low patience for these sort of things.
Anyway, it was an interesting read in some ways. It really picked up with the second half after he had been arrested. Though actually the trial was a bit maddening as well. But his outburst at the absurdity of it all was excellent. Again, I recommend The Plague, but this one was fine. And actually quite short.
Now, the next one I really did love. I've noted here before that I have a thing for Russian writers, and The Master and Margarita did not disappoint. It's a retelling of Faust wrapped up with a retelling of the Pontius Pilate story.
This was such a forceful, complex novel. The set-up in the first chapter is amazing, and the tonal change from that chapter to the second leaves you reeling but also shows the author's mastery. While the story builds and continues to raise the stakes in many ways, that second chapter may be my favorite part of the novel. There is so much to unpack here, and I'm sure this is one that would benefit from a few re-reads, as well as some conversations with people who have more expert knowledge and background.
I did love it, but I'm not sure to whom I could recommend it. I'm definitely glad that I've read as much Gogol, Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Dostoevsky as I have, and that I've read Faust (and I guess that being familiar with the Passion helps, too, of course). In some ways it also reminded me of The Satanic Verses. It would be interesting to do a comparative piece with those two. Many, many differences obviously, and written in very different historical moments and cultural contexts (and really literary styles, though they have a similar feel in some ways), but they speak to each other in fascinating ways.
Spoiler alert!
So, this first books is about a guy who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral and then gets executed. Again I say, seriously. That's really the plot. It's either called The Stranger or The Outsider depending on your translation, and it's the first book by Albert Camus. Now, I loved The Plague, but The Outsider didn't do all that much for me. It was rather Kafka-esque, and I have low patience for these sort of things.
Anyway, it was an interesting read in some ways. It really picked up with the second half after he had been arrested. Though actually the trial was a bit maddening as well. But his outburst at the absurdity of it all was excellent. Again, I recommend The Plague, but this one was fine. And actually quite short.
Now, the next one I really did love. I've noted here before that I have a thing for Russian writers, and The Master and Margarita did not disappoint. It's a retelling of Faust wrapped up with a retelling of the Pontius Pilate story.
This was such a forceful, complex novel. The set-up in the first chapter is amazing, and the tonal change from that chapter to the second leaves you reeling but also shows the author's mastery. While the story builds and continues to raise the stakes in many ways, that second chapter may be my favorite part of the novel. There is so much to unpack here, and I'm sure this is one that would benefit from a few re-reads, as well as some conversations with people who have more expert knowledge and background.
I did love it, but I'm not sure to whom I could recommend it. I'm definitely glad that I've read as much Gogol, Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Dostoevsky as I have, and that I've read Faust (and I guess that being familiar with the Passion helps, too, of course). In some ways it also reminded me of The Satanic Verses. It would be interesting to do a comparative piece with those two. Many, many differences obviously, and written in very different historical moments and cultural contexts (and really literary styles, though they have a similar feel in some ways), but they speak to each other in fascinating ways.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Glass House, Stones, Mumble Mumble
Yeesh. We got a bit behind in July. In order to stay on track for the year, I need to read at least 37 and ideally 39 more books. We'll see what happens. The two years worth of American Scholars that I salvaged definitely did not help matters, and neither did Bleak House and its 900 pages. Time to kick it up a notch again.
Dashiell Hammett's The Glass Key was definitely the most enjoyable read I had during my Europe trip. It is basically just classic noir of the non-detective variety. It is short, but well-crafted, as you would expect from Hammett. I'd say that this one is less about the twist, per se, and more about the main character's journey. Even that doesn't feel quite accurate, exactly. It's not that he changes as a character, more that his circumstances change and he adapts, and in some ways it's almost as though he expected this change. It's a very cynical novel, of course.
I feel like I should have more to say, but I read it about a month ago now, and though it was a fun read, it was essentially your basic noir. Nothing particularly unusual about it. After I finished it I did start to try to cast a movie version with current actors. They did make a movie of it in 1942, which I have not seen, and which is not available in any format on Netflix. Sad face.
Onward now to Bleak House. I personally find it easier to tolerate this one if I put the emphasis on house rather than bleak. I suggest trying that if you ever decide to read this one.
There's really nothing wrong with Bleak House; it's quintessential Dickens, as you would imagine. I'd suggest David Copperfield or Great Expectations over this one, but overall it's fine. There were some really funny parts, and I think I tolerated Esther more than some (you need to groove with her or you are in trouble). I'm sure many papers have been written about Dickens' treatment of and perspective on women, and this would provide some fodder for that.
The thing is, though, that this is a really, really long book; having read so much Dickens already, this really contributed nothing new. I am Dickensed out, ladies and gentlemen, and that is all there is to say. Yes, it does have spontaneous human combustion, but it's not what you think. It really could have been replaced with pneumonia, say, and would have made little difference.
Dashiell Hammett's The Glass Key was definitely the most enjoyable read I had during my Europe trip. It is basically just classic noir of the non-detective variety. It is short, but well-crafted, as you would expect from Hammett. I'd say that this one is less about the twist, per se, and more about the main character's journey. Even that doesn't feel quite accurate, exactly. It's not that he changes as a character, more that his circumstances change and he adapts, and in some ways it's almost as though he expected this change. It's a very cynical novel, of course.
I feel like I should have more to say, but I read it about a month ago now, and though it was a fun read, it was essentially your basic noir. Nothing particularly unusual about it. After I finished it I did start to try to cast a movie version with current actors. They did make a movie of it in 1942, which I have not seen, and which is not available in any format on Netflix. Sad face.
Onward now to Bleak House. I personally find it easier to tolerate this one if I put the emphasis on house rather than bleak. I suggest trying that if you ever decide to read this one.
There's really nothing wrong with Bleak House; it's quintessential Dickens, as you would imagine. I'd suggest David Copperfield or Great Expectations over this one, but overall it's fine. There were some really funny parts, and I think I tolerated Esther more than some (you need to groove with her or you are in trouble). I'm sure many papers have been written about Dickens' treatment of and perspective on women, and this would provide some fodder for that.
The thing is, though, that this is a really, really long book; having read so much Dickens already, this really contributed nothing new. I am Dickensed out, ladies and gentlemen, and that is all there is to say. Yes, it does have spontaneous human combustion, but it's not what you think. It really could have been replaced with pneumonia, say, and would have made little difference.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sometimes this Project Sucks
Some books raise more questions than they answer. Interview with the Vampire is one of those books. It raises such provocative questions as:
Where to start. Clearly I hated this novel. I think I hated everything about this novel, including the name of the main character. He was amazingly whiny and angsty. I don't think I have any sort of unreasonable prejudice against vampires. Yes, not a Twilight fan, yes, never seen Buffy nor Angel nor True Blood, but hey, I read and enjoyed Dracula! That should count for something. Plus, I think it is fair to blame a lot of the current problems with vampires on Rice.
I'm having a hard time deciding which character I hated the most. One hand, wanted to maim or otherwise destroy Claudia; other hand, loathed Lestat to an unbelievable degree; but, in all, I think Louis was the worst. Perhaps because we spend so much time with him, or perhaps because he is pretentious, whiny, obnoxious, creepy, self-righteous, stupid, boring, and cringe-inducing.
When looking up the title for this little work online (I can never remember the proper article before Vampire), I stumbled on Annerice.com, which is filled with discussion questions (22, to be exact). Let's tackle a couple, shall we?
1. Over the years Rice has been asked why she chose the vampire as her hero. If you were Rice, how would you answer the question?
With hand puppets! Or a sardonic grin.
2. Why did she write a metaphysical thriller using B-movie motif?
I reject the premise of this question; I argue that she did not write a metaphysical thriller. There was nothing thrilling about this novel, except when I reached the last page and realized that it was behind me.
The silver lining to all of this has got to be the movie adaptation. I've not seen it, but I recently googled it as well, and the pictures of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt are hilarious.
- What possessed Anne Rice to write this novel?
- Why was it so popular?
- What do people find appealing about it?
- Why is it on the list?
- Can I please have the hours (not many, mind you, but still) of my life that I spent reading this back?
- Pretty please?
Where to start. Clearly I hated this novel. I think I hated everything about this novel, including the name of the main character. He was amazingly whiny and angsty. I don't think I have any sort of unreasonable prejudice against vampires. Yes, not a Twilight fan, yes, never seen Buffy nor Angel nor True Blood, but hey, I read and enjoyed Dracula! That should count for something. Plus, I think it is fair to blame a lot of the current problems with vampires on Rice.
I'm having a hard time deciding which character I hated the most. One hand, wanted to maim or otherwise destroy Claudia; other hand, loathed Lestat to an unbelievable degree; but, in all, I think Louis was the worst. Perhaps because we spend so much time with him, or perhaps because he is pretentious, whiny, obnoxious, creepy, self-righteous, stupid, boring, and cringe-inducing.
When looking up the title for this little work online (I can never remember the proper article before Vampire), I stumbled on Annerice.com, which is filled with discussion questions (22, to be exact). Let's tackle a couple, shall we?
1. Over the years Rice has been asked why she chose the vampire as her hero. If you were Rice, how would you answer the question?
With hand puppets! Or a sardonic grin.
2. Why did she write a metaphysical thriller using B-movie motif?
I reject the premise of this question; I argue that she did not write a metaphysical thriller. There was nothing thrilling about this novel, except when I reached the last page and realized that it was behind me.
The silver lining to all of this has got to be the movie adaptation. I've not seen it, but I recently googled it as well, and the pictures of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt are hilarious.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Bubonic Insomnia
All right! Yes, we did take a hiatus. We were on holiday. It was amazing. We read many books, but we had internet limitations.
Currently, Bleak House is destroying my soul, so I thought I'd take a reading break and do a quick update.
Let us start with The Last September (since that is the first one that I read). I elected to read this one on a transatlantic flight, which proved to be an excellent decision. This is because the first flight was one where I was supposed to fall asleep, and if this book doesn't cure insomnia I don't know what will. Truly, nothing happened. At all. This was actually sort of the point of the book, I think. It's kind of a coming of age story in Ireland during the Irish War of Independence, which actually sounds like it has some promise. However, the book is amazingly dull. I was actually quite disappointed, because I loved The House in Paris (and even The Heat of the Day was pretty good). I have a ton of Bowen's left, so hopefully this was the fluke and not the other way round.
After that, I decided to read The Plague, mostly because I found a left copy in the reading material stand at the gym. How amazing is that? This is a book about an Algerian town that faces the plague sometime in the 1940s. Now, I know that this sounds truly terrible, sort of about the worst book one can imagine, but please believe me, it is not. It's actually very beautiful in a sort of morbid way, and captivating. It's a bit bleak, but also hopeful in a way that only a work that real sees into the absolute darkness of the world without flinching can be. I'm not explaining this very well.
Here's an example quote "He knew that the tale he had to tell could not be one of final victory. It could be only the record of what had to be done, and what assuredly would have to be done again in the never-ending fight against terror and its relentless onslaughts." The whole book is like this. It's captivating, and it explores so, so, so many issues. You could do a whole course just using this book as a spring board. I'm always fascinated by ways people cope with facing horrific aspects of life over and over again, and my favorite passage of this book is a scene where the doctor and his friend decide to take an afternoon for their friendship to remind themselves the purpose of their work, the world the're working towards.
One of these books was abandoned in Venice and one in Munich. I wonder if anyone is reading them now.
Currently, Bleak House is destroying my soul, so I thought I'd take a reading break and do a quick update.
Let us start with The Last September (since that is the first one that I read). I elected to read this one on a transatlantic flight, which proved to be an excellent decision. This is because the first flight was one where I was supposed to fall asleep, and if this book doesn't cure insomnia I don't know what will. Truly, nothing happened. At all. This was actually sort of the point of the book, I think. It's kind of a coming of age story in Ireland during the Irish War of Independence, which actually sounds like it has some promise. However, the book is amazingly dull. I was actually quite disappointed, because I loved The House in Paris (and even The Heat of the Day was pretty good). I have a ton of Bowen's left, so hopefully this was the fluke and not the other way round.
After that, I decided to read The Plague, mostly because I found a left copy in the reading material stand at the gym. How amazing is that? This is a book about an Algerian town that faces the plague sometime in the 1940s. Now, I know that this sounds truly terrible, sort of about the worst book one can imagine, but please believe me, it is not. It's actually very beautiful in a sort of morbid way, and captivating. It's a bit bleak, but also hopeful in a way that only a work that real sees into the absolute darkness of the world without flinching can be. I'm not explaining this very well.
Here's an example quote "He knew that the tale he had to tell could not be one of final victory. It could be only the record of what had to be done, and what assuredly would have to be done again in the never-ending fight against terror and its relentless onslaughts." The whole book is like this. It's captivating, and it explores so, so, so many issues. You could do a whole course just using this book as a spring board. I'm always fascinated by ways people cope with facing horrific aspects of life over and over again, and my favorite passage of this book is a scene where the doctor and his friend decide to take an afternoon for their friendship to remind themselves the purpose of their work, the world the're working towards.
One of these books was abandoned in Venice and one in Munich. I wonder if anyone is reading them now.
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