Grab your bag and grab your coat
Tell the ones that need to know
We are headed north
This is going to be my last post on Invincible Summer, because I am switching over to tumblr. It's not really a big deal, everything is going to be pretty similar (even the background!), but it is making me kind of sad. A few months ago when I decided to start writing on here again I went back and re-read a bunch of my old posts. A lot of them are pretty painful to read, but it is kind of cool to have documentation about what was going on that I felt was worthy of writing about over the course of the past three years. I started out, and remain, kind of ambivalent about the whole having-a-blog thing, but I like writing things for my friends to read so I guess I'll just keep doing it.
I can't believe this thing has existed for three years.
Anyway, I am switching over because most of the blogs I read now are on tumblr and it is just easier to keep track of things this way. I probably would have done it sooner but it has taken me a while to figure out how to set everything up in a way that I like. A lot of tumblrs are pretty multimedia based and not very good for long blocks of text, so finding a good layout took forever. It turns out I am pretty picky about that kind of thing, which I wasn't really aware of before. I still don't like the way the archives work, and I'm still figuring out how comments are going to work, but I think it's going to be good. Oh, and I changed the name.
Here is the new thing. Come visit.
4.02.2010
Cannonball - Book 18
Drinking: A Love Story by Caroline Knapp
I was going to start reading Their Eyes Were Watching God on the bus yesterday but the prose was difficult and I was having trouble focusing, so I started this instead. I picked it up because someone on the Slate podcast (it was either Meghan O'Roarke or Katie Roiphe) I listened to about The Night of the Gun recommended Drinking: A Love Story as an example of a memoir that was a little more insightful about the motivations and emotional implications of addiction, so I picked it up.
It's a good book. It didn't have the same level of drama or insanity that The Night of the Gun had (there are no guns at all in Knapp's story, for one), but I found it more compelling, somehow. Knapp is a different kind of addict than Carr. Carr did crazy things and his life visible began to desintegrate; he lost his job, he was arrested multiple times, he engaged in some pretty significant criminal activity. Despite being a serious alcoholic for 20 years Knapp always managed to at least keep up the appearance that she had her life together. She continued to succeed professionally the entire time she is drinking and very few people, except those she was very close to, even knew she had a problem. That is just more interesting to me for some reason. I guess it is because anyone can just go crazy and screw up their lives but only a very specific kind of person can get blackout drunk almost daily for two decades and still maintain the appearance that nothing is wrong.
Page count: 254
Up next: The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
I was going to start reading Their Eyes Were Watching God on the bus yesterday but the prose was difficult and I was having trouble focusing, so I started this instead. I picked it up because someone on the Slate podcast (it was either Meghan O'Roarke or Katie Roiphe) I listened to about The Night of the Gun recommended Drinking: A Love Story as an example of a memoir that was a little more insightful about the motivations and emotional implications of addiction, so I picked it up.
It's a good book. It didn't have the same level of drama or insanity that The Night of the Gun had (there are no guns at all in Knapp's story, for one), but I found it more compelling, somehow. Knapp is a different kind of addict than Carr. Carr did crazy things and his life visible began to desintegrate; he lost his job, he was arrested multiple times, he engaged in some pretty significant criminal activity. Despite being a serious alcoholic for 20 years Knapp always managed to at least keep up the appearance that she had her life together. She continued to succeed professionally the entire time she is drinking and very few people, except those she was very close to, even knew she had a problem. That is just more interesting to me for some reason. I guess it is because anyone can just go crazy and screw up their lives but only a very specific kind of person can get blackout drunk almost daily for two decades and still maintain the appearance that nothing is wrong.
Page count: 254
Up next: The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
4.01.2010
Cannonball - Book 17
With Love and Squalor: 14 Writers Respond to the Work of J.D. Salinger edited by Kip Kotzen and Thomas Beller
This book was pretty uneven, quality-wise. There are a few essays that I really loved--Amy Sohn's "Franny and Amy" and Thomas Beller's "The Salnger Weather" were standouts--but overall the bad outweighed the good. Maybe the problem is that, while I like Salinger, I have never been able to understand people who looooooove Salinger. I wanted to, I really did. When I read The Catcher in the Rye for the first time in grade nine I guess I was expecting it to change my life or something, because that is what everyone said would happen, and instead it just turned out to be a novel I more or less enjoyed. Maybe I didn't read closely enough, or maybe I was not feeling sufficiently alienated. I don't know.
So, the essays were a little hit or miss. Whatever. The part of the book I really want to talk about is the writing in the margins. Here are some things I know about the person who wrote in the margins of this book: 1) She has good penmanship (in a feminine, curly way, so I am going to assume the comment writer is a woman), and 2) She is an asshole.
I don't know who this woman is, but I hate her. First of all, she was writing in a library book, which is uncool. And second, she was writing stupid, snarky bullshit that wasn't even about the content of the essays. For example: she circled the word 'demise' on page 20, and wrote in the margin "terrible word choice--it's a legal euphemism for the death of a sovereign--as in "demise of the Crown". Worst person ever, right? For one thing, she is using a completely outdated definition of the word 'demise' (yeah, I looked it up), and even if she were right I have no idea why she would have felt the need to write a correction in the margins of a book that doesn't even belong to her. Is she just showing off for future borrowers? Her handwriting is all over the book and she never writes a single interesting thing. She is just arguing semantics with no one in particular. It is obnoxious as hell.
Page count: 194
Up next:Their Eyes Their Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston Drinking: A Love Story by Caroline Knapp
This book was pretty uneven, quality-wise. There are a few essays that I really loved--Amy Sohn's "Franny and Amy" and Thomas Beller's "The Salnger Weather" were standouts--but overall the bad outweighed the good. Maybe the problem is that, while I like Salinger, I have never been able to understand people who looooooove Salinger. I wanted to, I really did. When I read The Catcher in the Rye for the first time in grade nine I guess I was expecting it to change my life or something, because that is what everyone said would happen, and instead it just turned out to be a novel I more or less enjoyed. Maybe I didn't read closely enough, or maybe I was not feeling sufficiently alienated. I don't know.
So, the essays were a little hit or miss. Whatever. The part of the book I really want to talk about is the writing in the margins. Here are some things I know about the person who wrote in the margins of this book: 1) She has good penmanship (in a feminine, curly way, so I am going to assume the comment writer is a woman), and 2) She is an asshole.
I don't know who this woman is, but I hate her. First of all, she was writing in a library book, which is uncool. And second, she was writing stupid, snarky bullshit that wasn't even about the content of the essays. For example: she circled the word 'demise' on page 20, and wrote in the margin "terrible word choice--it's a legal euphemism for the death of a sovereign--as in "demise of the Crown". Worst person ever, right? For one thing, she is using a completely outdated definition of the word 'demise' (yeah, I looked it up), and even if she were right I have no idea why she would have felt the need to write a correction in the margins of a book that doesn't even belong to her. Is she just showing off for future borrowers? Her handwriting is all over the book and she never writes a single interesting thing. She is just arguing semantics with no one in particular. It is obnoxious as hell.
Page count: 194
Up next:
3.27.2010
Cannonball - Book 16
The Night of the Gun by David Carr
Another memoir. I know. I have been going memoir crazy. This one is no story-of-a-fun-loving-Mormon-girl-trying-to-make-it-on-her-own-in-New-York-City though. This one has darkness in its heart. It has intravenous drug use and multiple arrests and domestic violence and and babies in harms way and all kinds of other nightmarish things. In the words of Hunter S. Thompson, frequently quoted by my father: "Bad craziness".
This is not the kind of thing I would normally pick up, as I am someone who tries to avoid bad craziness in all it's many forms. But the guy lived to write about it, so I knew it wouldn't end to badly, and when you are reading two books a week for a whole year sometimes you need to branch out a bit. Life can't be all pop culture criticism and murder mysteries all the time, unfortunately. And drug addiction kind of fascinates me.
The Night of the Gun offers a twist on the traditional addiction memoir formula. Carr did not just write down his memories of being an cocaine addict and alcoholic, in part because, unsurprisingly. he actually remembers very little. Instead he uses his skills as a reporter (he writes for the New York Times now) to thoroughly investigate and document that time of his life. He goes through government documents and police reports, newspaper clippings (mostly of his own writing), and conducts interviews on video with anyone he could find who knew him while he was an addict. It's an interesting premise, with pretty significant strengths and weaknesses.
I admire Carr's courage. It would not have been easy to listen to his old friends recount stories of what an destructive asshole he was. (And he really was one. He not only does drugs, but deals, and fights, and beats his girlfriends, and neglects his children. He was scum, basically.) And he is incredibly honest about all of it, even the stuff that makes him look really bad. He writes, for the most part, with humour and without sentiment (except when he is talking about his family, at which point he becomes downright sappy) so that the book, even in its most unpleasant moments, is incredibly readable.
Despite all of that, I am not sure whether I really liked the book or not. For a while after I finished it I couldn't really figure out what it was that had rubbed me a little bit the wrong way, until I listened to a discussion about the book on Slate's Audio Book Club*. They made the point that, while Carr does a great job getting the facts of his story straight, the book is pretty lacking in any actual insight about his experiences. The discusses his addiction like it is just a fact of life, a given, and does provide much information about how he got there in the first place. The describes, or rather relates his ex-girlfriends' descriptions, of the domestic abuse he committed, but never delves into why he did it, other than the fact that he was drunk or high at the time. It is a little irritating, to spend so much time reading about Carr and then to realize how little of himself he has actually revealed.
The second half drags a little bit. Eventually Carr gets sober, becomes a single parent to his twin daughters, gets back into journalism and becomes very successful, and gets married. It is touching certainly, but Carr does not write about it as compellingly as he does the coke-fueled trips on private planes and the drug deals nearly-gone-wrong. It was nice, during the insanity and misery of the book's first half, to know that second half was there though. I don't know if I could have stuck it out through all the bad craziness without that reassurance.
Page count: 400
Up next: With Love and Squalor edited by Kip Kotzen and Thomas Beller
*Slate does some kind of the best podcasting around, by the way. Top notch. And there are a ton of them.
Another memoir. I know. I have been going memoir crazy. This one is no story-of-a-fun-loving-Mormon-girl-trying-to-make-it-on-her-own-in-New-York-City though. This one has darkness in its heart. It has intravenous drug use and multiple arrests and domestic violence and and babies in harms way and all kinds of other nightmarish things. In the words of Hunter S. Thompson, frequently quoted by my father: "Bad craziness".
This is not the kind of thing I would normally pick up, as I am someone who tries to avoid bad craziness in all it's many forms. But the guy lived to write about it, so I knew it wouldn't end to badly, and when you are reading two books a week for a whole year sometimes you need to branch out a bit. Life can't be all pop culture criticism and murder mysteries all the time, unfortunately. And drug addiction kind of fascinates me.
The Night of the Gun offers a twist on the traditional addiction memoir formula. Carr did not just write down his memories of being an cocaine addict and alcoholic, in part because, unsurprisingly. he actually remembers very little. Instead he uses his skills as a reporter (he writes for the New York Times now) to thoroughly investigate and document that time of his life. He goes through government documents and police reports, newspaper clippings (mostly of his own writing), and conducts interviews on video with anyone he could find who knew him while he was an addict. It's an interesting premise, with pretty significant strengths and weaknesses.
I admire Carr's courage. It would not have been easy to listen to his old friends recount stories of what an destructive asshole he was. (And he really was one. He not only does drugs, but deals, and fights, and beats his girlfriends, and neglects his children. He was scum, basically.) And he is incredibly honest about all of it, even the stuff that makes him look really bad. He writes, for the most part, with humour and without sentiment (except when he is talking about his family, at which point he becomes downright sappy) so that the book, even in its most unpleasant moments, is incredibly readable.
Despite all of that, I am not sure whether I really liked the book or not. For a while after I finished it I couldn't really figure out what it was that had rubbed me a little bit the wrong way, until I listened to a discussion about the book on Slate's Audio Book Club*. They made the point that, while Carr does a great job getting the facts of his story straight, the book is pretty lacking in any actual insight about his experiences. The discusses his addiction like it is just a fact of life, a given, and does provide much information about how he got there in the first place. The describes, or rather relates his ex-girlfriends' descriptions, of the domestic abuse he committed, but never delves into why he did it, other than the fact that he was drunk or high at the time. It is a little irritating, to spend so much time reading about Carr and then to realize how little of himself he has actually revealed.
The second half drags a little bit. Eventually Carr gets sober, becomes a single parent to his twin daughters, gets back into journalism and becomes very successful, and gets married. It is touching certainly, but Carr does not write about it as compellingly as he does the coke-fueled trips on private planes and the drug deals nearly-gone-wrong. It was nice, during the insanity and misery of the book's first half, to know that second half was there though. I don't know if I could have stuck it out through all the bad craziness without that reassurance.
Page count: 400
Up next: With Love and Squalor edited by Kip Kotzen and Thomas Beller
*Slate does some kind of the best podcasting around, by the way. Top notch. And there are a ton of them.
3.26.2010
Cannonball - Book 15
The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance by Elna Baker
I just don't get the whole religion thing. And by "the whole religion thing" I really just mean "religion, generally speaking". I don't get it at all. There are parts of it that make sense to me. I can understand wanting to believe in some kind of higher power, and even actually believing in one. And I can understand wanting some kind of explanation of the unexplainable. I don't understand all the bizarre rules and restrictions though. I know that not all religions have crazy rules, but a lot of them do. Mormonisn definitely does.
No drinking, no drugs, no caffeine, no swearing, no sex before marriage (actually, according to Elna Baker, no being aroused before marriage). Those are the main ones. Pretty standard, I guess, within the stricter Christian religions.
TNYRMSHD is about Elna Baker living in New York trying to navigate all the rules. I really liked it. I liked Baker's writing and I liked her. But I also found it incredibly frustrating at times because the rules do not make any sense to me at all, and a lot of the time is seemed like they didn't make sense to Baker either. She breaks almost all of them (or pushes them to the furthest and most liberal stretches of there interpretations), at one point or another. Except for the drug one. She remains kind of tangled up in it all, though. The reason she sticks with it is because of her family, and because she really does believe in, and has a relationship with, God. He-with-a-capital-H is a positive force in her life. I get that, and am even kind of envious of that, but it's unfortunate the the God thing comes a long with so much arbitrary bullshit, you know?
Anyway. This was a good book. You would like it, I bet. And if you read it then we can talk about it for real. So read it, okay?
Or, at the very least, listen to this TSOYA interview Elna Baker did. She's funny. I bet you will end up having kind of a crush on her.
Page count: 272
Up next: The Night of the Gun by David Carr
I just don't get the whole religion thing. And by "the whole religion thing" I really just mean "religion, generally speaking". I don't get it at all. There are parts of it that make sense to me. I can understand wanting to believe in some kind of higher power, and even actually believing in one. And I can understand wanting some kind of explanation of the unexplainable. I don't understand all the bizarre rules and restrictions though. I know that not all religions have crazy rules, but a lot of them do. Mormonisn definitely does.
No drinking, no drugs, no caffeine, no swearing, no sex before marriage (actually, according to Elna Baker, no being aroused before marriage). Those are the main ones. Pretty standard, I guess, within the stricter Christian religions.
TNYRMSHD is about Elna Baker living in New York trying to navigate all the rules. I really liked it. I liked Baker's writing and I liked her. But I also found it incredibly frustrating at times because the rules do not make any sense to me at all, and a lot of the time is seemed like they didn't make sense to Baker either. She breaks almost all of them (or pushes them to the furthest and most liberal stretches of there interpretations), at one point or another. Except for the drug one. She remains kind of tangled up in it all, though. The reason she sticks with it is because of her family, and because she really does believe in, and has a relationship with, God. He-with-a-capital-H is a positive force in her life. I get that, and am even kind of envious of that, but it's unfortunate the the God thing comes a long with so much arbitrary bullshit, you know?
Anyway. This was a good book. You would like it, I bet. And if you read it then we can talk about it for real. So read it, okay?
Or, at the very least, listen to this TSOYA interview Elna Baker did. She's funny. I bet you will end up having kind of a crush on her.
Page count: 272
Up next: The Night of the Gun by David Carr
Cannonball - Book 14
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Great Gatsby is one of those books that I feel like I should have read ages ago, or at the very least, I should have had been more familiar with the specifics of the story. Like, Hamlet or The Catcher in the Rye or the Bible or something. They get referenced so much in cultural conversation that, even if you've never read them page for page, you at least have a pretty good gist of what they are about.
Here are the things I knew going in:
-There is a guy named Gatsby and he is in love with Daisy
-There is some sort of class/wealth element that I was pretty unclear about
-Something about Gatsby being a self-made man
That's about it. I wasn't actually wrong about any of it, but the picture is pretty vague. After reading the book, though, I'm actually not surprised at how little I knew about the plot going in to it. The plot isn't really the point. This is one of those books that is about theme.
I know, right? Ugh. The Powers That Be could probably revoke my right to study English for saying this, but books about theme are pretty much the worst... Actually, that may be a little unfair. Let me rephrase: books that focus entirely on theme at the expense of a good plot and interesting characters are pretty much the worst. I just have no patience for them. They are boring.
The Great Gatsby is walking a pretty fine line, because it's plot is borderline ridiculous and almost every single character is a terrible person. If it were not for the narrator, who may or may not be named Nick, I cannot remember, reading this book would have been a terrible nightmare. Thankfully, I liked Nick (I am just going to keep calling him that because I am typing this while the internet is down and I already returned the book to the library) a lot. At the very beginning of the book he describes himself as someone who does not pass judgment on other people, and he sticks to that, which is admirable. If I had been hanging out with those people I would have been judging the hell out of them all the time, because they are shallow and uncaring and just generally awful.
I'm saying all of this stuff about unlikable characters like it is a flaw in Fitzgerald's writing, but it isn't. It's kind if the point of the book actually. Fitzgerald is trying to make a point about class and society and America and I guess he does a pretty good job of making it. It's just not a point I am particularly interested in. The book is so fundamentally American, and so concerned with a specific place and time, that I feel like it has nothing to do with me. I'm glad I read it--I liked Nick, there were certain passages that I thought were great, and it is one of the books that you kind of just have to read at some point--but I can't imagine wanting to revisit it any time soon.
Page count: 153
Up next: The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance by Elna Baker
The Great Gatsby is one of those books that I feel like I should have read ages ago, or at the very least, I should have had been more familiar with the specifics of the story. Like, Hamlet or The Catcher in the Rye or the Bible or something. They get referenced so much in cultural conversation that, even if you've never read them page for page, you at least have a pretty good gist of what they are about.
Here are the things I knew going in:
-There is a guy named Gatsby and he is in love with Daisy
-There is some sort of class/wealth element that I was pretty unclear about
-Something about Gatsby being a self-made man
That's about it. I wasn't actually wrong about any of it, but the picture is pretty vague. After reading the book, though, I'm actually not surprised at how little I knew about the plot going in to it. The plot isn't really the point. This is one of those books that is about theme.
I know, right? Ugh. The Powers That Be could probably revoke my right to study English for saying this, but books about theme are pretty much the worst... Actually, that may be a little unfair. Let me rephrase: books that focus entirely on theme at the expense of a good plot and interesting characters are pretty much the worst. I just have no patience for them. They are boring.
The Great Gatsby is walking a pretty fine line, because it's plot is borderline ridiculous and almost every single character is a terrible person. If it were not for the narrator, who may or may not be named Nick, I cannot remember, reading this book would have been a terrible nightmare. Thankfully, I liked Nick (I am just going to keep calling him that because I am typing this while the internet is down and I already returned the book to the library) a lot. At the very beginning of the book he describes himself as someone who does not pass judgment on other people, and he sticks to that, which is admirable. If I had been hanging out with those people I would have been judging the hell out of them all the time, because they are shallow and uncaring and just generally awful.
I'm saying all of this stuff about unlikable characters like it is a flaw in Fitzgerald's writing, but it isn't. It's kind if the point of the book actually. Fitzgerald is trying to make a point about class and society and America and I guess he does a pretty good job of making it. It's just not a point I am particularly interested in. The book is so fundamentally American, and so concerned with a specific place and time, that I feel like it has nothing to do with me. I'm glad I read it--I liked Nick, there were certain passages that I thought were great, and it is one of the books that you kind of just have to read at some point--but I can't imagine wanting to revisit it any time soon.
Page count: 153
Up next: The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance by Elna Baker
#128 - What About Them?
I'm all about them
I am no longer behind on my reading, but I am getting very behind on my writing. Which is annoying. So by the end of the day today I vow to write posts for books 14-16.
I'm totally going to do it... as soon as I watch the new episode of Community.
I am no longer behind on my reading, but I am getting very behind on my writing. Which is annoying. So by the end of the day today I vow to write posts for books 14-16.
I'm totally going to do it... as soon as I watch the new episode of Community.
3.21.2010
Cannonball - Book 13
The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon
I would have been really bummed if I ended up disliking this book. For one thing, I want to love Michael Chabon as much as everyone says I should love Michael Chabon. Also, I think that The Mysteries of Pittsburgh is a really great title, and it is always sad when something doesn't live up to the goodness of it's title. Thankfully, I did really like this book, so it turns out I had nothing to worry about. It's not a perfect book, but some of it is so great that I am willing to overlook a lot of other flaws.
There is a love triangle and new friendships and a lot of drinking and a lot of description of Pittsburgh in the summertime. Those things I liked. The things I didn't like include this awful woman named Phlox who the main character is dating even though she has no redeeming qualities whatsoever** and a secondary story involving the mafia, which felt kind of forced in an otherwise pretty straightforward coming of age story. The mafia thing ties in with a rocky-relationship-between-father-and-son thing and I kind of lost patience with both.
Chabon's writing is so good, though, that even the parts of the book I didn't like were engrossing. This book was published when he was twenty-five years old. No one should be able to write this well when they are twenty-five years old. It's unfair.
Page count: 297
Up next: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
*I suppose it helps that it was ridiculously warm in Ottawa for most of this week and I was feeling pretty summery to begin with. I was thinking the other day about how I never used to spend much time thinking about the seasons, and now I am kind of obsessed with them. I feel like I am a different person in the summer than I am in the winter, and different again in spring, and again in the fall. It all used to run together, but now I find their seperate-ness kind of comforting.
**Phlox! I know. The fact that I hate her is not really a flaw in Chabon's writing, but I feel like the fact that I hate her so much is worth noting. I can't really tell if I am supposed to hate her or not, but I do.
I would have been really bummed if I ended up disliking this book. For one thing, I want to love Michael Chabon as much as everyone says I should love Michael Chabon. Also, I think that The Mysteries of Pittsburgh is a really great title, and it is always sad when something doesn't live up to the goodness of it's title. Thankfully, I did really like this book, so it turns out I had nothing to worry about. It's not a perfect book, but some of it is so great that I am willing to overlook a lot of other flaws.
There is a love triangle and new friendships and a lot of drinking and a lot of description of Pittsburgh in the summertime. Those things I liked. The things I didn't like include this awful woman named Phlox who the main character is dating even though she has no redeeming qualities whatsoever** and a secondary story involving the mafia, which felt kind of forced in an otherwise pretty straightforward coming of age story. The mafia thing ties in with a rocky-relationship-between-father-and-son thing and I kind of lost patience with both.
Chabon's writing is so good, though, that even the parts of the book I didn't like were engrossing. This book was published when he was twenty-five years old. No one should be able to write this well when they are twenty-five years old. It's unfair.
Page count: 297
Up next: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
*I suppose it helps that it was ridiculously warm in Ottawa for most of this week and I was feeling pretty summery to begin with. I was thinking the other day about how I never used to spend much time thinking about the seasons, and now I am kind of obsessed with them. I feel like I am a different person in the summer than I am in the winter, and different again in spring, and again in the fall. It all used to run together, but now I find their seperate-ness kind of comforting.
**Phlox! I know. The fact that I hate her is not really a flaw in Chabon's writing, but I feel like the fact that I hate her so much is worth noting. I can't really tell if I am supposed to hate her or not, but I do.
3.18.2010
Cannonball - Book 12
Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
Wishful Drinking was adapted from Carrie Fisher's one-woman show, so it can't really be called a memoir. It is more just a collection of crazy things that happened to her, like a regular celebrity memoir, but an only-the-good-parts version. I think more books by celebrities should be like this. I guess it probably helps that Fisher is actually a good writer.
Remember a few weeks ago when I told you guys how crazy Nathan Rabin's life is? Well, his life is nothing compared to Carrie Fisher's. I can't even begin to explain it to you. You should probably just read the book. It's short, the print is big, and I guarantee you that you will learn at least one awesome thing about Bob Dylan and several awesome things about Debbie Reynolds. That lady is great! Who knew?
Page count: 163
Up next: The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon
Wishful Drinking was adapted from Carrie Fisher's one-woman show, so it can't really be called a memoir. It is more just a collection of crazy things that happened to her, like a regular celebrity memoir, but an only-the-good-parts version. I think more books by celebrities should be like this. I guess it probably helps that Fisher is actually a good writer.
Remember a few weeks ago when I told you guys how crazy Nathan Rabin's life is? Well, his life is nothing compared to Carrie Fisher's. I can't even begin to explain it to you. You should probably just read the book. It's short, the print is big, and I guarantee you that you will learn at least one awesome thing about Bob Dylan and several awesome things about Debbie Reynolds. That lady is great! Who knew?
Page count: 163
Up next: The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon
Cannonball - Book 11
Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler
Farewell, My Lovely is actually the second of Chandler's Philip Marlowe novels. I went to the library in search of the first, The Big Sleep*, but it wasn't there, so I started with number two. I don't think it makes much of a difference, really. I don't think there is a single character that carries over from the first book to the second, except for Marlowe himself.
I can't help but compare this book to The Maltese Falcon, which I read a couple of months ago. I really both of them--I am kind of a sucker for the whole hard-boiled detective thing, I guess--but I think Philip Marlowe works better as a main character than I liked Sam Spade*. He seems like less of a caricature and more of a real person. The love story, such as it is, in The Maltese Falcon didn't really work for me because Spade seemed so utterly devoid of emotion. Marlowe is more... vulnerable, I guess is the word I'm looking for, even though it sounds lame and cliched. He has this great line about slippers that made me fall in love with him a little bit. I can't quite remember it now, but if you ever read this book you should keep an eye out for it.
I was kind of surprised at how much action the book had. I guess never really think of the detectives in these kinds of novels every doing anything except sitting in their office smoking and drinking and flirting with their secretary. Marlowe does a lot of stuff. He drives around, he gets held hostage and shot up with heroin, he breaks onto a boat. He gets hit in the face an astonishing number of times. He doesn't even have a secretary.
I wouldn't have minded a little less action, frankly. I really like it in books and movies when people just sit around talking.***
Page count: 304
Up next: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
*Mainly because I feel like I should read it before watching The Big Lebowski for the first time. Everyone loves The Big Lebowski so much, I am kind of excited that I haven't seen it yet.
**It's funny, both characters were played in movies by Humphrey Bogart, so when I picture them in my mind they look identical. Identically awesome.
***I expressed a similar opinion to Greg the other day with regards to the Star Trek movie. He looked at me like I was crazy.
Farewell, My Lovely is actually the second of Chandler's Philip Marlowe novels. I went to the library in search of the first, The Big Sleep*, but it wasn't there, so I started with number two. I don't think it makes much of a difference, really. I don't think there is a single character that carries over from the first book to the second, except for Marlowe himself.
I can't help but compare this book to The Maltese Falcon, which I read a couple of months ago. I really both of them--I am kind of a sucker for the whole hard-boiled detective thing, I guess--but I think Philip Marlowe works better as a main character than I liked Sam Spade*. He seems like less of a caricature and more of a real person. The love story, such as it is, in The Maltese Falcon didn't really work for me because Spade seemed so utterly devoid of emotion. Marlowe is more... vulnerable, I guess is the word I'm looking for, even though it sounds lame and cliched. He has this great line about slippers that made me fall in love with him a little bit. I can't quite remember it now, but if you ever read this book you should keep an eye out for it.
I was kind of surprised at how much action the book had. I guess never really think of the detectives in these kinds of novels every doing anything except sitting in their office smoking and drinking and flirting with their secretary. Marlowe does a lot of stuff. He drives around, he gets held hostage and shot up with heroin, he breaks onto a boat. He gets hit in the face an astonishing number of times. He doesn't even have a secretary.
I wouldn't have minded a little less action, frankly. I really like it in books and movies when people just sit around talking.***
Page count: 304
Up next: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
*Mainly because I feel like I should read it before watching The Big Lebowski for the first time. Everyone loves The Big Lebowski so much, I am kind of excited that I haven't seen it yet.
**It's funny, both characters were played in movies by Humphrey Bogart, so when I picture them in my mind they look identical. Identically awesome.
***I expressed a similar opinion to Greg the other day with regards to the Star Trek movie. He looked at me like I was crazy.
3.12.2010
Cannonball - Book 10
My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme
Julia Child did not start learning to cook until she was in her mid-thirties. She became a television start in her fifties. As a twenty-one year old who has no direction in life, I find these facts incredibly encouraging. Maybe that's the reason I liked the first half of the book so much more than the second half. I loved reading about her discovery of what she wanted to be doing with her life, and all the work she did to make it happen. Julia Child was incredibly ambitious and incredibly driven. Those are qualities I admire.
The first half of the book also takes place in Paris, and I think I could read about Paris for the rest of my life and never get bored with it. At one point she talks about the proprieter of a cheese shop so brilliant that if you went in to buy some Camembert she would ask you when you were planning on eating it and then choose the wheel of cheese that would be perfect in exactly that amount of time. She would choose differently if you were eating it right away, for lunch, or with supper later that night. Can you imagine? That's amazing.
Once the Child's moved away from Paris they moved to Marseille, then Germany, the Washington, then Norway, and then to Cambridge, Mass. I kind of started to lose interest during all of this moving around. It happened while Julia was working on the first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking*, and reading about someone working on a cookbook is not the most fascinating thing in the world, generally speaking. Writing a cookbook sounds like absolute torture to me, especially the way Julia did it, so thorough. I admire her, but it seems like it would have been exceptionally tedious.
Aside from the tedium though, Julia Child pretty much has the greatest life of all time. She spent all of her days cooking and thinking about food, her husband was super cool (obviously, otherwise Stanley Tucci would not have played him in a movie** and she had one of the greatest kitchens I have ever seen.
When I grow up I want to be Julia Child. CASE CLOSED.
Page count: 339
Up next: Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler
*Buckley just got this book. The French onion soup recipe she made was delicious (although they overflowed a little in the oven which led to a small fire later, when we were trying to make chocolate cake).
**Although the fact that Stanley Tucci just played a rapist/murdering in The Lovely Bones seems to indicate a flaw in my logic here.
Julia Child did not start learning to cook until she was in her mid-thirties. She became a television start in her fifties. As a twenty-one year old who has no direction in life, I find these facts incredibly encouraging. Maybe that's the reason I liked the first half of the book so much more than the second half. I loved reading about her discovery of what she wanted to be doing with her life, and all the work she did to make it happen. Julia Child was incredibly ambitious and incredibly driven. Those are qualities I admire.
The first half of the book also takes place in Paris, and I think I could read about Paris for the rest of my life and never get bored with it. At one point she talks about the proprieter of a cheese shop so brilliant that if you went in to buy some Camembert she would ask you when you were planning on eating it and then choose the wheel of cheese that would be perfect in exactly that amount of time. She would choose differently if you were eating it right away, for lunch, or with supper later that night. Can you imagine? That's amazing.
Once the Child's moved away from Paris they moved to Marseille, then Germany, the Washington, then Norway, and then to Cambridge, Mass. I kind of started to lose interest during all of this moving around. It happened while Julia was working on the first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking*, and reading about someone working on a cookbook is not the most fascinating thing in the world, generally speaking. Writing a cookbook sounds like absolute torture to me, especially the way Julia did it, so thorough. I admire her, but it seems like it would have been exceptionally tedious.
Aside from the tedium though, Julia Child pretty much has the greatest life of all time. She spent all of her days cooking and thinking about food, her husband was super cool (obviously, otherwise Stanley Tucci would not have played him in a movie** and she had one of the greatest kitchens I have ever seen.
When I grow up I want to be Julia Child. CASE CLOSED.
Page count: 339
Up next: Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler
*Buckley just got this book. The French onion soup recipe she made was delicious (although they overflowed a little in the oven which led to a small fire later, when we were trying to make chocolate cake).
**Although the fact that Stanley Tucci just played a rapist/murdering in The Lovely Bones seems to indicate a flaw in my logic here.
3.09.2010
Cannonball - Book 9
The Big Rewind: A Memoir Brought to You by Pop Culture by Nathan Rabin
I don't really read The Onion. I'm not sure why, because I really like The Onion, but generally just scanning the headlines is enough so satisfy my itch for satirical news*. However, I read The A.V. Club pretty religiously. It is one of my favourite places on the whole internet for pop culture writing (and I say that as someone who spends a lot of time reading about pop culture on the internet). The Big Rewind is the memoir of Nathan Rabin, The A.V. Club's head writer. Imagine, if you will, what the life story of such a person might have been like... Nathan Rabin's life has been nothing like what you just pictured. Nathan Rabin's life has been crazy.
He was kidnapped by his mother.
He attempted suicide by taking a bottle of caffeine pills.
He spends most of his teenage years in a group home for emotionally disturbed boys.
The group home chapters are my favourite part of the book. Rabin's descriptions of his time there, and especially of the other boys in the home, are really funny and touching and strange: "Now, I don't want to suggest that the people I grew up with were feral subliterates. But the people I grew up with were feral subliterates".
The rest of the book, while still enjoyable, is less compelling. I can't really figure out why though. It is hard to top the antics of emotionally disturbed boys, I guess. It's not as if Rabin goes to college and all of a sudden stops getting caught up in bizarre situations. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, after a while, all the weirdness that goes on can't be blamed on unfortunate circumstances anymore. Most of the time if you are an adult and your life is crazy it is because you are making your life crazy. No one forced you into getting sad, $200 dollar handjobs, or into taking mushrooms before going the Ann Frank Museum, Rabin. You did that yourself.
Although, he ended up with pretty much the coolest job on the planet so maybe his judgment is not as bad as he makes it out to be.
I am getting a little bit behind on my reading! I am about 2/3 of the way through book ten right now. I would love to just sit down and power through it, but school has been getting in the way this week, and will continue to do so for the next couple of days. After this midterm is over and this paper is finished I am going to have to read like a madwoman to catch up.
Page count: 368
Up next: My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme
*This is the best one I've seen lately.
I don't really read The Onion. I'm not sure why, because I really like The Onion, but generally just scanning the headlines is enough so satisfy my itch for satirical news*. However, I read The A.V. Club pretty religiously. It is one of my favourite places on the whole internet for pop culture writing (and I say that as someone who spends a lot of time reading about pop culture on the internet). The Big Rewind is the memoir of Nathan Rabin, The A.V. Club's head writer. Imagine, if you will, what the life story of such a person might have been like... Nathan Rabin's life has been nothing like what you just pictured. Nathan Rabin's life has been crazy.
He was kidnapped by his mother.
He attempted suicide by taking a bottle of caffeine pills.
He spends most of his teenage years in a group home for emotionally disturbed boys.
The group home chapters are my favourite part of the book. Rabin's descriptions of his time there, and especially of the other boys in the home, are really funny and touching and strange: "Now, I don't want to suggest that the people I grew up with were feral subliterates. But the people I grew up with were feral subliterates".
The rest of the book, while still enjoyable, is less compelling. I can't really figure out why though. It is hard to top the antics of emotionally disturbed boys, I guess. It's not as if Rabin goes to college and all of a sudden stops getting caught up in bizarre situations. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, after a while, all the weirdness that goes on can't be blamed on unfortunate circumstances anymore. Most of the time if you are an adult and your life is crazy it is because you are making your life crazy. No one forced you into getting sad, $200 dollar handjobs, or into taking mushrooms before going the Ann Frank Museum, Rabin. You did that yourself.
Although, he ended up with pretty much the coolest job on the planet so maybe his judgment is not as bad as he makes it out to be.
I am getting a little bit behind on my reading! I am about 2/3 of the way through book ten right now. I would love to just sit down and power through it, but school has been getting in the way this week, and will continue to do so for the next couple of days. After this midterm is over and this paper is finished I am going to have to read like a madwoman to catch up.
Page count: 368
Up next: My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme
*This is the best one I've seen lately.
2.27.2010
Cannonball - Book 8
The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister
I actually read a big chunk of this book at the same time as I was making my way through The Sound and the Fury. Up until now in my Cannonball reading I have made it a point not to start a new book until I was 100% finished reading the previous one, mainly stave off the curse of book-abandonment that has plagued most of my reading career, but also because it would complicate my records*. I was forced to break this rule though because Faulkner's story was so dense, depressing and complex that sometimes I just couldn't deal with it. Intellectual disability and suicide and racism and reckless promiscuity just don't make great bedtime reading, you know?**
The School of Essential Ingredients, on the other hand, made excellent bedtime reading Unlike Faulkner (who I halfway suspect of making his book difficult on purpose, to torment me), Bauermeister required almost no effort or thought from me at all. Her book is so pleasant, so soothing. What a relief! The book is about a cooking class in which the teacher is really sweet and lovely, and so are all of the students. Everyone is nice to each other all the time. Two of them fall in love and the rest form lifelong friendships. At the beginning one of them is really sad and depressed about how becoming a mother has caused her to lose her sense of self, and I know that sounds sad, but don't even worry about it because at the end of the first chapter she eats some crab and then her life is fixed! Never before have I read a book with so little conflict! Never before have I read a book that so compelled me to use exclamation marks!
I wonder how many reviews there are comparing this book to comfort food. I bet that it's a lot. Who wouldn't be comforted by reading about a world where people are all wonderful and eating can solve all your problems? I certainly was.
William Faulkner is rolling in his grave.
Page count: 256
Up next: The Big Rewind by Nathan Rabin (which I have actually already finished)
*Keeping detailed records has been an infinitely satisfying offshoot of the Cannonball experience so far. I'll tell you about it sometime.
**Actually, reckless promiscuity sometimes makes for great bedtime reading, just not in this case. Also, while your all the way down here in the footnotes, I might as well acknowledge the fact that I have discussed the content of The Sound and the Fury more in this review, the one for a completely different novel, than I did in my actual review of The Sound and the Fury. Sorry. That's just how it goes sometimes.
I actually read a big chunk of this book at the same time as I was making my way through The Sound and the Fury. Up until now in my Cannonball reading I have made it a point not to start a new book until I was 100% finished reading the previous one, mainly stave off the curse of book-abandonment that has plagued most of my reading career, but also because it would complicate my records*. I was forced to break this rule though because Faulkner's story was so dense, depressing and complex that sometimes I just couldn't deal with it. Intellectual disability and suicide and racism and reckless promiscuity just don't make great bedtime reading, you know?**
The School of Essential Ingredients, on the other hand, made excellent bedtime reading Unlike Faulkner (who I halfway suspect of making his book difficult on purpose, to torment me), Bauermeister required almost no effort or thought from me at all. Her book is so pleasant, so soothing. What a relief! The book is about a cooking class in which the teacher is really sweet and lovely, and so are all of the students. Everyone is nice to each other all the time. Two of them fall in love and the rest form lifelong friendships. At the beginning one of them is really sad and depressed about how becoming a mother has caused her to lose her sense of self, and I know that sounds sad, but don't even worry about it because at the end of the first chapter she eats some crab and then her life is fixed! Never before have I read a book with so little conflict! Never before have I read a book that so compelled me to use exclamation marks!
I wonder how many reviews there are comparing this book to comfort food. I bet that it's a lot. Who wouldn't be comforted by reading about a world where people are all wonderful and eating can solve all your problems? I certainly was.
William Faulkner is rolling in his grave.
Page count: 256
Up next: The Big Rewind by Nathan Rabin (which I have actually already finished)
*Keeping detailed records has been an infinitely satisfying offshoot of the Cannonball experience so far. I'll tell you about it sometime.
**Actually, reckless promiscuity sometimes makes for great bedtime reading, just not in this case. Also, while your all the way down here in the footnotes, I might as well acknowledge the fact that I have discussed the content of The Sound and the Fury more in this review, the one for a completely different novel, than I did in my actual review of The Sound and the Fury. Sorry. That's just how it goes sometimes.
Cannonball - Book 7
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
I normally shy away from reading anything regarded as a classic. This is partly because I am exceptionally lazy and in my mind classic = difficult, but also, secretly, it is because I am a little bit afraid that I just won't get what is so great about the classic in question and my dull-wittedness will be revealed to the word at last. Reading The Sound and the Fury** did nothing to assuage these fears. I'm glad that I had to read this for class. If it hadn't been for that I don't think I would have gotten through the first two parts (which are kind of incomprehensible), and I did end up... I think "enjoying" might be the wrong word for how I feel about this book, but I found it satisfying and the class discussions have been really interesting. This is the kind of book you really have to work and I appreciate the opportunity to talk about it with a bunch of other people who found it as perplexing as I did at the beginning.
Page count: 328
Up Next: The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister
I can't think of anything interesting to say about this book. This is unfortunate not only because it is going to make writing this post difficult, because it is entirely possible I will have to write about it on my English final as well. At least the people reading this (all three of you) aren't going to give me a grade. Unless you are weirdos*.
I normally shy away from reading anything regarded as a classic. This is partly because I am exceptionally lazy and in my mind classic = difficult, but also, secretly, it is because I am a little bit afraid that I just won't get what is so great about the classic in question and my dull-wittedness will be revealed to the word at last. Reading The Sound and the Fury** did nothing to assuage these fears. I'm glad that I had to read this for class. If it hadn't been for that I don't think I would have gotten through the first two parts (which are kind of incomprehensible), and I did end up... I think "enjoying" might be the wrong word for how I feel about this book, but I found it satisfying and the class discussions have been really interesting. This is the kind of book you really have to work and I appreciate the opportunity to talk about it with a bunch of other people who found it as perplexing as I did at the beginning.
Page count: 328
Up Next: The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister
*A possibility that I certainly haven't ruled out.
**What a great title, huh? I think it is a line from Macbeth, but I'm not going to check. See earlier comment re: my laziness.
2.17.2010
Cannonball - Book 6
The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
This is not the book I was planning to read next (I know that I said that is was the book I was planning to read next, but I didn't write that last post until after I had changed my mind.) I read the first 50 or so pages of The Big Rewind by Nathan Rabin, and liked it, but I was not in a good enough mood this weekend to read a memoir about depression and so I moved on. This book was the perfect thing to read instead, for several reasons. The two most important being that: a) it is short and relatively light, and b) it is pretty inspiring, reading-wise.
Short is good, because, even though I like that Bryson book, it was kind of a slog. And up next is The Sound and the Fury, another slog. I needed a non-slog in between to gain confidence in my ability to read more than two pages at a time without falling asleep or putting the book down to watch an episode of Deadwood*. Once, my dad and I were talking about the reasons everyone loves The Time Traveler's Wife so much and dad said he thought it's because Audrey Niffinegger's prose is friendly. I think friendly might be the perfect way to describe Hornby's style. It is inviting, and that makes it easy to read. The knowledge that there are more of Hornby's words on page after page is comforting as opposed to daunting. Nick Hornby is lovely company.
Hornby's Believer columns have an improbable dual effect: they inspire me to read more and to read better books, but do so without making me feel guilty about the books I do read or the books that I haven't read. Does that make any sense? The disparities between Hornby's lists of Books Bought and Books Read make me feel better about all of the un-read books on my bookshelf (or, the book section of my floor, as is the case in my Ottawa bedroom.) His admission that he finds books boring, even though they are the most reliably satisfying cultural experiences he has, was incredibly comforting also. Finally someone admits the truth! Out of all the things that I love, I think I love the books that I love best of all, but reading is hard work. Hornby remindes me that it is worth it. He makes me want to put the time in to Dickens and Checkov and Tobias Wolff. He even makes me think that reading a little poetry now and then would not be unreasonable. But I have to get through Faulkner first.
Page count: 147
Up next: The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
*I had sort of been putting off watching Deadwood for a long time. I knew that I would have to watch it eventually, because it is the kind of show that anyone who loves and watches as much television as I do has to read eventually, but I was kind of avoiding it because it seemed so unpleasant. But I watched the pilot this weekend in a fit of procrastination and I haven't been able to stop. It is brilliant and hilarious and smart and sad and the swearing in it is inspired. Sometimes I have to skip the particularly violent parts because I am a wimp but for the most part it Deadwood is exceedingly watchable.
Short is good, because, even though I like that Bryson book, it was kind of a slog. And up next is The Sound and the Fury, another slog. I needed a non-slog in between to gain confidence in my ability to read more than two pages at a time without falling asleep or putting the book down to watch an episode of Deadwood*. Once, my dad and I were talking about the reasons everyone loves The Time Traveler's Wife so much and dad said he thought it's because Audrey Niffinegger's prose is friendly. I think friendly might be the perfect way to describe Hornby's style. It is inviting, and that makes it easy to read. The knowledge that there are more of Hornby's words on page after page is comforting as opposed to daunting. Nick Hornby is lovely company.
Hornby's Believer columns have an improbable dual effect: they inspire me to read more and to read better books, but do so without making me feel guilty about the books I do read or the books that I haven't read. Does that make any sense? The disparities between Hornby's lists of Books Bought and Books Read make me feel better about all of the un-read books on my bookshelf (or, the book section of my floor, as is the case in my Ottawa bedroom.) His admission that he finds books boring, even though they are the most reliably satisfying cultural experiences he has, was incredibly comforting also. Finally someone admits the truth! Out of all the things that I love, I think I love the books that I love best of all, but reading is hard work. Hornby remindes me that it is worth it. He makes me want to put the time in to Dickens and Checkov and Tobias Wolff. He even makes me think that reading a little poetry now and then would not be unreasonable. But I have to get through Faulkner first.
Page count: 147
Up next: The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
*I had sort of been putting off watching Deadwood for a long time. I knew that I would have to watch it eventually, because it is the kind of show that anyone who loves and watches as much television as I do has to read eventually, but I was kind of avoiding it because it seemed so unpleasant. But I watched the pilot this weekend in a fit of procrastination and I haven't been able to stop. It is brilliant and hilarious and smart and sad and the swearing in it is inspired. Sometimes I have to skip the particularly violent parts because I am a wimp but for the most part it Deadwood is exceedingly watchable.
2.16.2010
Cannonball - Book 5
Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson
I don't really have anything to say about this book. I liked it, although it didn't include a lot of information I didn't get out of Intro to Linguistics. It had a lot of jokes based on the idiosyncrasies of the English language, and I like those. The book is from 1990, so there is not anything having to do with language in the internet era, which is something I have been pondering a lot recently. I'm sure a lot has been written about it too, I just haven't sought it out.* Are the languages of the world eventually going to meld together to form a super-language because barriers in communication are disappearing? Is English going to take over? I hope not. The art of the trilled 'r' would be lost forever.
In sort of general, reading-related news, I'm a little surprised at how much non-fiction I have read so far, and at how much I have on my to-read list. I've been enjoying it all, but I am beginning to crave a novel. Unfortuantely, due to academic obligations, that novel is going to be The Sound and the Fury. I read a few pages of the other day and then put down because I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. So that's alarming. I have to have it finished by next week, but I'm just gonna read a little Nick Horby first, kay?
Page count:272
Up next: The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
*I just had to use Google, because I could not remember what the past tense of 'seek' was. How apropos.
I don't really have anything to say about this book. I liked it, although it didn't include a lot of information I didn't get out of Intro to Linguistics. It had a lot of jokes based on the idiosyncrasies of the English language, and I like those. The book is from 1990, so there is not anything having to do with language in the internet era, which is something I have been pondering a lot recently. I'm sure a lot has been written about it too, I just haven't sought it out.* Are the languages of the world eventually going to meld together to form a super-language because barriers in communication are disappearing? Is English going to take over? I hope not. The art of the trilled 'r' would be lost forever.
In sort of general, reading-related news, I'm a little surprised at how much non-fiction I have read so far, and at how much I have on my to-read list. I've been enjoying it all, but I am beginning to crave a novel. Unfortuantely, due to academic obligations, that novel is going to be The Sound and the Fury. I read a few pages of the other day and then put down because I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. So that's alarming. I have to have it finished by next week, but I'm just gonna read a little Nick Horby first, kay?
Page count:272
Up next: The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
*I just had to use Google, because I could not remember what the past tense of 'seek' was. How apropos.
2.10.2010
Cannonball - Book 4
A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle
This is the first book that comes in under the 200 page mark. I really liked it, but I think I would have liked it better if I read it when I was younger. When I was thirteen or so (I think, around then) I read almost nothing but Agatha Christie novels. Eventually I moved on to other mysteries but I always liked the old-fashioned, British ones best. I am not sure why, but I think it had to do with how stoic the characters were. To the detectives the murder was never anything but a puzzle, and to everyone else it was a minor inconvenience. Like, "Oh, how unfortunate I am suspected to be a murderer, it shall interfere with my plans to go riding".
The book is split into two parts. The first follows Holmes and Watson as they solve the mystery and the second goes back and tells the story of the murderer and his victims. I was not a fan of this particular structure. Conan Doyle spent the entire first half of the novel making me curious about Sherlock Holmes and then, in the second half, abandoned Holmes entirely in favor of a couple or Mormans and a vengeful red-faced guy. Lame. Especially since Mormon's story didn't really inform the murder solving much. It's not that I didn't care about them, it's just that the transition was a little too abrupt and clumsy.
All of the Sherlock Holmes parts made it worth it though. I see why he is such an iconic character. He's awesome.
Page count: 146
Up next: Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson
The book is split into two parts. The first follows Holmes and Watson as they solve the mystery and the second goes back and tells the story of the murderer and his victims. I was not a fan of this particular structure. Conan Doyle spent the entire first half of the novel making me curious about Sherlock Holmes and then, in the second half, abandoned Holmes entirely in favor of a couple or Mormans and a vengeful red-faced guy. Lame. Especially since Mormon's story didn't really inform the murder solving much. It's not that I didn't care about them, it's just that the transition was a little too abrupt and clumsy.
All of the Sherlock Holmes parts made it worth it though. I see why he is such an iconic character. He's awesome.
Page count: 146
Up next: Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson
2.05.2010
Cannonball - Book 3
Eating the Dinosaur by Chuck Klosterman
I have mixed feelings about the writing of Chuck Klosterman. On one hand I feel like much of it is a little self-indulgent and ridiculous. On the other hand, I think the ridiculous stuff to be the most interesting of it all. Often when reading Klosterman's work I find my self moving pretty rapidly between boredom and total absorption. Just when I am on the verge of giving up on the book entirely because he has been going on for several pages about college football (or time travel, or the earnestness of Rivers Cuomo) without saying anything particularly hilarious or interesting Klosterman will make a point so concise and interesting that I cannot believe I ever thought if giving up on him. For example, one of my favourite parts of the book comes at the end of my least favourite essay*. The essay was about football, but this is the quote:
The book's format is a bit strange; the essays themselves are divided into shorter parts (like chapters, numbered 1, 2, 3, etc.) , and sometimes this parts are divided even further (2, 2A, 2B). It's an interesting choice, and it took some getting used to, but I think it works. They make the essays feel a little more focused and organized, his (often bizarre points) become a little easier to follow. Everything truly tangential is put into footnotes. I think we all know how I feel about footnotes**.
Of all the Chuck Klosterman books I've read I think this one may be my favourite. I also have Fargo Rock City and Downtown Owl on my Cannonball list, after which I think I will have read them all. Did you know that Craig Finn wrote the screenplay for the movie version of Fargo Rock City? I really hope that movie gets made.
Page count: 256
Up next: A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle
* In all fairness, the reason main I didn't like the essay is that I didn't understand most of it; there were a lot of technical details. The only reason I didn't skip it entirely is that I felt like to do so would be cheating on Cannonball. Klosterman defends his inclusion of the football essay by estimating that about 60% of his readers are intensely interested is sports, while the other 40% don't care at all. He makes up a lot of statistics like this, which I enjoy.
** Love 'em!
I have mixed feelings about the writing of Chuck Klosterman. On one hand I feel like much of it is a little self-indulgent and ridiculous. On the other hand, I think the ridiculous stuff to be the most interesting of it all. Often when reading Klosterman's work I find my self moving pretty rapidly between boredom and total absorption. Just when I am on the verge of giving up on the book entirely because he has been going on for several pages about college football (or time travel, or the earnestness of Rivers Cuomo) without saying anything particularly hilarious or interesting Klosterman will make a point so concise and interesting that I cannot believe I ever thought if giving up on him. For example, one of my favourite parts of the book comes at the end of my least favourite essay*. The essay was about football, but this is the quote:
Football allows the intellectual part of my brain to evolve, but it allows the emotional part to remain unchanged. It has a liberal cerebellum and a reactionary heart. And this is all I want from everything, all the time, always.It's an incredibly astute and relatable sentiment, and it makes me glad I spent a little while reading about something I found slightly dull. Klosterman isn't always able to tie his thoughts together so well, but when he is it is totally worth it.
The book's format is a bit strange; the essays themselves are divided into shorter parts (like chapters, numbered 1, 2, 3, etc.) , and sometimes this parts are divided even further (2, 2A, 2B). It's an interesting choice, and it took some getting used to, but I think it works. They make the essays feel a little more focused and organized, his (often bizarre points) become a little easier to follow. Everything truly tangential is put into footnotes. I think we all know how I feel about footnotes**.
Of all the Chuck Klosterman books I've read I think this one may be my favourite. I also have Fargo Rock City and Downtown Owl on my Cannonball list, after which I think I will have read them all. Did you know that Craig Finn wrote the screenplay for the movie version of Fargo Rock City? I really hope that movie gets made.
Page count: 256
Up next: A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle
* In all fairness, the reason main I didn't like the essay is that I didn't understand most of it; there were a lot of technical details. The only reason I didn't skip it entirely is that I felt like to do so would be cheating on Cannonball. Klosterman defends his inclusion of the football essay by estimating that about 60% of his readers are intensely interested is sports, while the other 40% don't care at all. He makes up a lot of statistics like this, which I enjoy.
** Love 'em!
2.01.2010
Cannonball - The Rules
I should have written this before I started posting reviews, but I was just so gung-ho about doing the reading that I got distracted.
The Rules of Clair's Cannonball Read: January 29th, 2010-January 29th, 2011*
These rules are much less strict than the official Pajiba ones (the ones that McKenzie is following). She made the (very good) point that anything the rules preclude me from reading this year will still be around for me to read after Cannonball is finished. Even though I know she is right I still worry that I will begin to rebel against the project as a whole if I start to feel too limited in what I am allowed to be reading. I think I would use it an excuse to quit, frankly. The reason I am doing this is partly because I want to challenge myself, but also because I just want to read more. Of everything. So I've decided that as long as I am reading (and writing about what I'm reading, and actaully thinking about what I'm reading) I will not worry too much about the fine print.
*This, hilariously, implies that I may do another Cannonball at a later date. At this point that seems insane to me.
The Rules of Clair's Cannonball Read: January 29th, 2010-January 29th, 2011*
- There is no requirement for the number of pages, but I'll try not to dip too far below 200 pages per book. Amanda and I discussed and concluded that, as long as we read at least 20,000 pages overall, it will be fine.
- Re-reading books you have already read is permissible, as long as you are doing for a good reason (ex: You want to read the next book in a series, but you don't remember what happened in the previous book). I don't have any re-reading in mind, as of yet, but I don't want to count it out.
- Plays and books of poetry are allowed, as long as they are of a reasonable length. The poetry books would likely contain less text than a novel or non-fiction title, but poetry is much more difficult to understand and must be read slowly, so I am calling it a draw. I rarely read poetry or plays, but I am trying to keep my options open in terms of genre and form because I fear that sometime this year I will begin to despise books that are nothing but paragraph after paragraph of words. And yes, I do realize how ridiculous that sounds.
- There is no requirement for a collection of essays or short stories to include a certain number of works.
- Graphic novels are allowed, but they must be substantial and I will read no more than 3 of them.
These rules are much less strict than the official Pajiba ones (the ones that McKenzie is following). She made the (very good) point that anything the rules preclude me from reading this year will still be around for me to read after Cannonball is finished. Even though I know she is right I still worry that I will begin to rebel against the project as a whole if I start to feel too limited in what I am allowed to be reading. I think I would use it an excuse to quit, frankly. The reason I am doing this is partly because I want to challenge myself, but also because I just want to read more. Of everything. So I've decided that as long as I am reading (and writing about what I'm reading, and actaully thinking about what I'm reading) I will not worry too much about the fine print.
*This, hilariously, implies that I may do another Cannonball at a later date. At this point that seems insane to me.
Cannonball - Book 2
Open by Andre Agassi
I have been really into tennis lately. It started because I am living in a household that is into tennis. I figured I might as well try to enjoy it if it was going to be on the TV all the time anyway. It is for this reason that I have also started to follow hockey, kind of. But I have now lived in Ottawa for two Grand Slams (the US Open in September and the Australian Open, which ended today) and large chunk of the NHL season and I like tennis way more than I will ever like hockey. Hockey is too impersonal, there are a lot of players and you never really see their faces. You don't get to know the players unless you invest a lot of time and attention in watching the games and in listening to other people talk about the games. Also, there is a lot of fighting, which I think is stupid.
Tennis is like the opposite of hockey in a lot of ways. The skill of professional tennis players is astounding, but it is their personalities that make them interesting. Seeing how the players react in certain situations, knowing which players have long-standing rivalries and watching them form new ones, I find it all completely fascinating. Whenever I am watching a match I find myself wondering what is going through the players heads. Unlike in team sports, once the match starts a player is totally on their own and it the idea of being so isolated and while also being under so much pressure is completely terrifying to me. Agassi talks about that a lot in Open, and his descriptions of his mental state during his matches, and his relationships with the other players, are my favourite parts of the book. Matches that take place later in the book, when he is playing people like Federer, Roddick, and Baghdatis, are especially interesting, because those are the players that I have been watching. My favourite players to watch are the ones who seem to struggle with their emotions a little bit as they play (which is why, as amazing as he is, I find Federer a little bit dull to watch sometimes), so I wish I could have seen Agassi play live.
After I finished reading the book I watched this and it made me cry:
Page count: 400
Up next: Eating the Dinosaur by Chuck Klosterman
I have been really into tennis lately. It started because I am living in a household that is into tennis. I figured I might as well try to enjoy it if it was going to be on the TV all the time anyway. It is for this reason that I have also started to follow hockey, kind of. But I have now lived in Ottawa for two Grand Slams (the US Open in September and the Australian Open, which ended today) and large chunk of the NHL season and I like tennis way more than I will ever like hockey. Hockey is too impersonal, there are a lot of players and you never really see their faces. You don't get to know the players unless you invest a lot of time and attention in watching the games and in listening to other people talk about the games. Also, there is a lot of fighting, which I think is stupid.
Tennis is like the opposite of hockey in a lot of ways. The skill of professional tennis players is astounding, but it is their personalities that make them interesting. Seeing how the players react in certain situations, knowing which players have long-standing rivalries and watching them form new ones, I find it all completely fascinating. Whenever I am watching a match I find myself wondering what is going through the players heads. Unlike in team sports, once the match starts a player is totally on their own and it the idea of being so isolated and while also being under so much pressure is completely terrifying to me. Agassi talks about that a lot in Open, and his descriptions of his mental state during his matches, and his relationships with the other players, are my favourite parts of the book. Matches that take place later in the book, when he is playing people like Federer, Roddick, and Baghdatis, are especially interesting, because those are the players that I have been watching. My favourite players to watch are the ones who seem to struggle with their emotions a little bit as they play (which is why, as amazing as he is, I find Federer a little bit dull to watch sometimes), so I wish I could have seen Agassi play live.
After I finished reading the book I watched this and it made me cry:
Page count: 400
Up next: Eating the Dinosaur by Chuck Klosterman
1.29.2010
Cannonball - Book 1
Things I've Learned from Women Who've Dumped Me, edited by Ben Karlin
Originally the plan was for Amanda and I to start Cannonball on February 1st, but we got impatient and decided to start early. So our year of reading starts today and I am already finished my first book!
I decided to start off with something light, to get my confidence up. A short book of funny essays was a perfect choice. I breezed right through it. The book is a series of essays (the topic of which is explained pretty succinctly in the title) by comedians. Most of the essays were pretty good, some were not so good, some just made me feel uncomfortable*. The nice thing about a book like this is that, because the pieces are so short (there are 47 of them, in total), even when I was not really enjoying one of them I knew that I would be getting to a new one soon. It makes it easy to just keep on reading.
One of the things that worries me most about this whole endeavor is that I am a person who is prone to abandoning books halfway through. I have never understood people who, once the start a book, insist on finishing it no matter what, even if they hate it. My sister does this, and it is a quality I find simultaneously admirable and infuriating. I am not at all interested in reading books that I will not enjoy (although I will often set books like this aside and hope that I will be able to enjoy them someday, when I am smarter and more focused and my tastes have evolved), but I also don't want to be labeled a quitter, even though that it what I am. I am a book quitter.
Or, at least, I was a book quitter. I can't really afford to be one anymore. The rules of Cannonball do not permit half-books, and I did not think far enough ahead to include them in my amendment of the rules of Cannonball. I am doomed, for the next year, to finish what I start. Wish me luck.
Page count: 221
Up next: Open, by Andre Agassi
*In fact, the only thing that really made me feel uncomfortable was Dan Savage's downright gruesome description of the female genitalia. I really would prefer never to think about it again, but suffice it to say that the phrase "hairy lasagna" was involved.
Originally the plan was for Amanda and I to start Cannonball on February 1st, but we got impatient and decided to start early. So our year of reading starts today and I am already finished my first book!
I decided to start off with something light, to get my confidence up. A short book of funny essays was a perfect choice. I breezed right through it. The book is a series of essays (the topic of which is explained pretty succinctly in the title) by comedians. Most of the essays were pretty good, some were not so good, some just made me feel uncomfortable*. The nice thing about a book like this is that, because the pieces are so short (there are 47 of them, in total), even when I was not really enjoying one of them I knew that I would be getting to a new one soon. It makes it easy to just keep on reading.
One of the things that worries me most about this whole endeavor is that I am a person who is prone to abandoning books halfway through. I have never understood people who, once the start a book, insist on finishing it no matter what, even if they hate it. My sister does this, and it is a quality I find simultaneously admirable and infuriating. I am not at all interested in reading books that I will not enjoy (although I will often set books like this aside and hope that I will be able to enjoy them someday, when I am smarter and more focused and my tastes have evolved), but I also don't want to be labeled a quitter, even though that it what I am. I am a book quitter.
Or, at least, I was a book quitter. I can't really afford to be one anymore. The rules of Cannonball do not permit half-books, and I did not think far enough ahead to include them in my amendment of the rules of Cannonball. I am doomed, for the next year, to finish what I start. Wish me luck.
Page count: 221
Up next: Open, by Andre Agassi
*In fact, the only thing that really made me feel uncomfortable was Dan Savage's downright gruesome description of the female genitalia. I really would prefer never to think about it again, but suffice it to say that the phrase "hairy lasagna" was involved.
1.23.2010
#127 - I Know I Haven't Been A Perfect Man
And I've avoided doing things I know I can
So I have been waffling back and forth a little bit on this whole Cannonball Read thing. 100 books in a year is a lot of books. But, I think I can do it. I'm really looking forward to it, actually. That being said, I have two reservations about the rules. The first is the length requirement (all books need to be at least 200 pages, short story collections must have at least six stories), the second is the no graphic novels rule. The reason these rules worry me is not that they deprive me from the opportunity to "cheat" or take the easy way out as far as the challenge goes, but that I don't like the idea that there are restrictions on what I can be reading for an entire year.
The Great Gatsby has been on my to-read list for a while and I think Cannonball Read would be a great time to get to it, however, some editions meet the 200 page requirement and some do not. So that seems a little arbitrary.
Also, even though I read very few graphic novels, I have very much been looking forward to Likewise by Ariel Schrag. It's the last in a series and I would probably have gotten to it already but I haven't been able to track it down.
Do you see my problem? Most of the books on the list I've made for Cannonball so far meet all the requirements, but even so, I don't like the idea of doing a reading challenge that actually prevents me from reading certain things that I want to read. What if I find Likewise in Chapters one day but can't read it because it is against the rules and I am to busy reading 200 page, strictly text-based novels? That would be the worst.
Would it be sacrilege for me to modify the rules slightly by making the page limit thing a little more flexible, and allowing a certain number of graphic novels. Like five, or something?
I don't want to take the easy way out, but I also want to be able to read the things I want to read.
So I have been waffling back and forth a little bit on this whole Cannonball Read thing. 100 books in a year is a lot of books. But, I think I can do it. I'm really looking forward to it, actually. That being said, I have two reservations about the rules. The first is the length requirement (all books need to be at least 200 pages, short story collections must have at least six stories), the second is the no graphic novels rule. The reason these rules worry me is not that they deprive me from the opportunity to "cheat" or take the easy way out as far as the challenge goes, but that I don't like the idea that there are restrictions on what I can be reading for an entire year.
The Great Gatsby has been on my to-read list for a while and I think Cannonball Read would be a great time to get to it, however, some editions meet the 200 page requirement and some do not. So that seems a little arbitrary.
Also, even though I read very few graphic novels, I have very much been looking forward to Likewise by Ariel Schrag. It's the last in a series and I would probably have gotten to it already but I haven't been able to track it down.
Do you see my problem? Most of the books on the list I've made for Cannonball so far meet all the requirements, but even so, I don't like the idea of doing a reading challenge that actually prevents me from reading certain things that I want to read. What if I find Likewise in Chapters one day but can't read it because it is against the rules and I am to busy reading 200 page, strictly text-based novels? That would be the worst.
Would it be sacrilege for me to modify the rules slightly by making the page limit thing a little more flexible, and allowing a certain number of graphic novels. Like five, or something?
I don't want to take the easy way out, but I also want to be able to read the things I want to read.
1.18.2010
#126 - I Don't Know Why
There's no sun up in the sky
I went and saw A Single Man this afternoon at the Bytowne, which is my favourite movie theatre ever. It was so, so sad and so, so good. I heard a review describe the way he felt at the end of the movie as the way you feel after a really long cry, which is an incredibly apt description that I wish I had though of myself. The movie is sad, but instead of being depressing it is kind of cathartic.
It is also aesthetically beautiful in a way that I haven't seen in a long time. Tom Ford directed it, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised at how gorgeous everything is. The clothes are absolutely amazing. Look at Julianne Moore. Just look at her.
Is that not the most glamourous thing you have ever seen? Even though she is kind of teary? Her cigarettes are pink, for Christ's sake. Also, look at her freckle-y arms. I am incredibly jealous of people who have freckles.
Also, every single man who is onscreen for more than 2 seconds in this film is completely beautiful.
Colin Firth. Beautiful.
Matthew Goode. Beautiful.
Nicholas Hoult. Beautiful.
Lee Pace. Beautiful.
Whoever this guy is.
Beautiful.
Even Jon Hamm, who you don't even see, you only hear his voice (which is incredibly distinctive, I recognized it right away), is beautiful. It is ridiculous. All the women are beautiful too, but that is pretty standard. A lot of movies are filled with great looking women and comparatively average looking dudes. Tom Ford discriminates against unattractive people of all genders, equally. I appreciate that.
The lesson, I suppose, is that more gay men should direct movies.
I went and saw A Single Man this afternoon at the Bytowne, which is my favourite movie theatre ever. It was so, so sad and so, so good. I heard a review describe the way he felt at the end of the movie as the way you feel after a really long cry, which is an incredibly apt description that I wish I had though of myself. The movie is sad, but instead of being depressing it is kind of cathartic.
It is also aesthetically beautiful in a way that I haven't seen in a long time. Tom Ford directed it, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised at how gorgeous everything is. The clothes are absolutely amazing. Look at Julianne Moore. Just look at her.
Is that not the most glamourous thing you have ever seen? Even though she is kind of teary? Her cigarettes are pink, for Christ's sake. Also, look at her freckle-y arms. I am incredibly jealous of people who have freckles.
Also, every single man who is onscreen for more than 2 seconds in this film is completely beautiful.
Colin Firth. Beautiful.
Matthew Goode. Beautiful.
Nicholas Hoult. Beautiful.
Lee Pace. Beautiful.
Whoever this guy is.
Beautiful.
Even Jon Hamm, who you don't even see, you only hear his voice (which is incredibly distinctive, I recognized it right away), is beautiful. It is ridiculous. All the women are beautiful too, but that is pretty standard. A lot of movies are filled with great looking women and comparatively average looking dudes. Tom Ford discriminates against unattractive people of all genders, equally. I appreciate that.
The lesson, I suppose, is that more gay men should direct movies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)