Holy Crap, I'm updating!

The Ground Beneath Her Feet, by Salman Rushdie, is one of my favorite books of all time. I read it for the first time in Paris when I was on a reading kick after discovering the English-language novels in the library. Then I reread it after finding a copy in my house, collecting dust. Now it's with me in Vietnam.

Like most of Rushdie's novels, the story of TGBHF his complex. But overall, I would say that it's about love and music, which to some are one and the same. This book is an epic love story told by a fascinating narrator, one who is (like many of Rushdie's narrator's) not at all unbiased in his storytelling. Which makes it all the more interesting.

The novel is very much about upheaval, both physical--in the form of travel and of earthquakes, for example--and emotional--in the form of love, of course. This is maybe part of the book's appeal to me personally, is the way Rushdie so perfectly captures a lot of the feelings involved in these upheavals. Here is a passage I particularly adore:

"Disorientation is loss of the East. Ask any navigator: the east is what you sail by. Lose the east and you lose your bearings, your certainties, your knowledge of what is and what may be, perhaps even your life. Where was that star you followed to that manger? That's right: the east orients. That's the official version. The language says so, and you should never argue with the language.
But let's just suppose. What if the whole deal--orientation, knowing where you are and so on--what if it's all a scam? What if all of it--home, kinship, the whole enchilada--is just the biggest, most truly global, and centuries-oldest piece of brainwashing? Suppose that it's only when you dare to let go that your real life begins?"

The passage goes on, and I love every word of it. Hopefully this taste will make you want to read this novel, because I promise you it is worth it.

Read it, and let me know what you think.

On Hiatus

I realize that I have neglected this baby of mine, and I feel bad about it. I will be putting up some book info soon. But, if you're wondering why I'm not reading as much, check out my other blog, hotdamnvietnam.blogspot.com. Holy crap, I have two blogs. Yeesh.

That's all for now. Catch ya later.

My current inability to finish novels: updated!

Regarding the three novels I was working on before:

I finished the Hiassen, since (as my Dad wrote in his comments on the book) it is quite a quick, fun read, and exactly what I need right now. The Jodi Picoult will have to wait for now--I am not ready to read about a tragic pseudo-suicide pact, or whatever the shocking truth shall turn out to be. And The Illuminatus! Trilogy holds me for a few chapters, and then reaches a point of ridiculous nonsense that I can't really follow, and so I put it down. This is not necessarily a downside; since the book is so complicated and confusing (intentionally so, I believe), it doesn't really matter that I'm lost when I pick it back up again. I'm finding it more entertaining in the small exchanges of characters, and I've decided to not worry so much about finding a real thread running through it beyond that of conspiracy and confusion. Which, occasionally, is enough.

I also just finished Look At Me by Jennifer Egan. I picked this book up off the street almost literally when it was put out in a "free!" box of stuff when someone down the street was moving, so I grabbed it. In my opinion, any free novel is worth saving--you never know, it might be brilliant. This one is certainly dramatic; it begins with a model whose face is destroyed in a car accident and then, thanks to modern medicine, beautifully reconstructed. However, she will (of course) never be the same. From there, the novel tackles the grand themes of truth and beauty rather poignantly and from a unique angle. I recommend it.

Carl Hiaasen, James Lee Burke, Hemingway, and Grisham

No, this is not some fantasy novelist team, although I do think the dinner table conversation would be fascinating.

From my Dad:

Just finished two crime/mystery novels, which I like for the escapism. The two I read were, however, very different from each other. Nature Girl, by Carl Hiaasen, features his usual assortment of goofy characters. His books combine suspense with political satire (centered on Florida, but applicable everywhere) and off-beat people. And there is always cosmic--not necessarily legal--justice in the end. His books are always fun. My favorite is Stormy Weather, but this one is hilarious.

On the other hand, Tin Roof Blowdown, by James Lee Burke, is Burke's usual gloomy, brooding meditation on the injustice suffered by the poor and powerless at the hands of the rich and powerful. So what else is new? Good question. And in this book, Burke sets garden-variety crime in the aftermath of hurricane Katrina, and it gets really depressing. Also, in every one of the Dave Robicheaux books--he's the police detective hero--Dave's family is threatened by thugs. Don't you think he'd learn his lesson? Still the books are entertaining, even if this one over-reaches in what it tries to do. I would recommend Bayou Cadillac and In the Electric Mist with Confederate Dead.

Also just finished Across the River and Into the Trees, by Ernest Hemingway, which is proof that a great writer can produce an awful novel. Set in post-World War II Italy, it features a 50-year-old American soldier, veteran of both world wars, with an incurable disease, and his 19-year-old Italian girl friend. As a father of a young woman, I have trouble with the age difference in the relationship, but beyond that, this novel is tedious and pretentious. It was a relief to finish it.

Now reading: The Appeal, a novel by John Grisham, about a civil suit against an evil chemical company on behalf of cancer victims, and Broken Government, John Dean's case for never again allowing government-hating right-wingers to take over and trash our three government branches. I heard Dean (yes, the Watergate guy) speak a few weeks ago. Wow.

My current inability to finish novels

I used to have an inability to leave novels unfinished. I would start one, not enjoy it, and still plow through it, at least skimming, so that I would finish it. If I just put it down, I would feel like I had abandoned it, giving up on it before it had the chance to become something enjoyable.

However, once I got to college, especially this year when I was hit with major senioritis, I became more comfortable with leaving books unfinished. For one class entitled "The Bestseller in 20th Century America," I started reading Pet Sematary and the 3rd Harry Potter, and didn't finish either of them. I knew that we were only going to be discussing them for 1 or 2 days, that I wouldn't have to write a paper on them, and that I'd be perfectly capable of contributing to class discussion without finishing either of the books. So, I prioritized, set them down, and felt no qualms about it.

Lately, I've started books and put them down, possibly to never return to them. I started reading Jodi Picoult's The Pact (see prior blog entry), but when finals hit I was not able to stay engaged in such a tragic plot. I needed something light and amusing to counterbalance my academic stress. A friend then gave me The Illuminatus! trilogy, which is a science-fictiony/fantasy/humorous novel that is, according to the blurb, "filled with sex and violence--in and out of time and space"--this is proving to be true. It's nice because it's fun, but it's also easy to put down since it jumps from plotline to plotline so much. So, when my parents arrived for my graduation, my dad gave me Carl Hiaasen's Nature Girl, and I put down The Illuminatus! in favor of Hiaasen. He always writes hilarious novels that take place in south Florida, which to me is like a mythical place only read about in stories. He always creates these insane eccentric characters who you grow to love or to love to hate--either way, tons of fun.

So, I am not sure what to think (or, if I need to think anything at all) regarding this newfound inability to finish books. I figure I won't put too much pressure on myself, since I'm reading for pleasure, and when I want to finish a novel, I will. We shall see.

More from Jo: A Moveable Feast

Occupation: pre-service teacher

Currently reading: A Moveable Feast, Hemingway

Why this book: I have a friend who is deeply into Hemingway, and I finally gave into his pressuring and borrowed his latest fling so that I would have a basis for my previously-unfounded snotty criticism of the author.

Thoughts: Well, I was dead wrong. At first this was just a neutral read, gentle and occasionally witty, and good at evoking my nostalgia for Paris (as a side note, this book will be twice as awesome if you've spent some time there), but somewhere in the middle I found the 'sublime' in the prose that my friend kept saying was there. And by the end, I had been totally converted by the simultaneously layered and direct honesty of Hemingway's style. There may be a lot of technical and/or geographical description that my eyes tend to flit right over, but then you come to a sentence--"We looked and there it all was: our river and our city and the island of our city"--that says precisely what it needs to say, no more, and says it truthfully. So Chris, I apologize for not believing you before.

My Dad is very literate

Last book read:

Prague, by Arthur Phillips. It's about six twenty-somethings living in Budapest in 1990 right after the fall of communism. (That's right, Budapest. Why he called it "Prague" I can't tell. [Ed: wikipedia says "Prague represents the unfulfilled emotional desires of the novel's main characters: it is the city where – as the novel's characters perceive – there is more life, capital flows more freely, and there are better parties, than in Budapest."]) It's engrossing, but you have to get past Phillips' snide condescension towards his characters. The book did keep me going through to the end, but left me unsatisfied, for reasons I can't really pin down. Maybe I'm too old, but it feels kind of like a more serious version of TV's "Friends", picked up and deposited in Hungary. Still, it's a good read.

Now reading:

Pure Goldwater, by John W. Dean and Barry M. Goldwater, Jr. It's a compilation of the private journals, letters, and some other writings, of the late U.S. Senator and 1964 presidential candidate, Barry M. Goldwater, Sr. John Dean is the one of Watergate fame, and Goldwater Jr. has been a congressman. It's very interesting stuff. I disagreed with Goldwater about most political things, but he had great integrity and candor. I heard Goldwater, Jr. speak recently, and while he and Dean are both conservative, they are highly critical of the Bush Administration, saying that Senator Goldwater would never have agreed with the invasion of Iraq or the current government's attempt to confiscate our civil liberties.

Also re-reading the short stories of Ernest Hemingway. They're still great.