"Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not.
Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end.
Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of the bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
There is only one serious question. And that is:
Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself.
Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time.
Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon."
-"Still Life With Woodpecker" by Tom Robbins
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Brief Book Reviews
Man in the Dark - Paul Auster
The story is told over one night, maybe its for that reason it feels so much like a dream I've had instead of a book I've read. It's how a house of insomniacs passes the evening. In particular the grandfather. He tells a story to himself to keep his own world at bay, while bringing himself into the story. I'm a sucker for characters and this is definitely a character driven story. I find myself relating so well to the mind of this man, identifying with him while he pushes and pulls bits of his life apart, pushes and pulls fragments of his own world into fiction, pushes and pulls a history of relationships and events around sorting out his own life. It's as if the whole of his world hinges on this night.
If I had to rate the book I'd give it a four out of five. While I really enjoy the things of Auster that I've read parts of me always feel a little like I've been there before. He has no moments in which I find myself compelled to rest in the story and ponder ideas, no words that force me to slow and admire their beauty or truth. Instead he wanders through dark streets that always remind me of a black and white film. He feels like a friend at night. So I like this story (and the New York Trilogy) and I'd certainly recommend them, but I won't change my favorite facebook book list to add him.
The Stranger- Albert Camus
When you read frequently you'll notice authors are sometimes like reading lists themselves. They often reference other books, authors, or topics. In fact if you start working your way through one book you and you deeply wish to understand it, if it has any great merit, you could probably spend your whole life just working through the secondary works of one whole book. That's why I picked Camus. First and foremost because he shows up in all the books I read as a reference (including the one I'm reading now) and second because he's published philosophical works. I'm a snob. I feel like I should know about all philosophers and while I don't always enjoy reading their stuff if they've published a fictional piece I really should read it.
So I picked up Camus. And yes, I decided which book to take home based on how many we are modeled for in the store. Modeling is determined by what we sell, therefore, in my own way I picked a "best seller".
The story is about a man who goes to his mothers funeral, meets some people, and kills a man. Maybe I just gave away the plot. Maybe I just told you the whole book. There isn't much to it. I guess I wasn't a huge fan because the main character has almost no emotions. Which is the point of the story, I understand how objectively it's told, I understand, hell even enjoy the structure (written very much in an american fashion) but there is no way for me to connect with the story because there are so few real emotions or even ideas to reach out and hold.
I left the story feeling like "That's it?" Maybe I should try another one. They're short stories, it's almost no work to get through one, maybe if I lower my expectations I'll see what all the fuss is about. Maybe you can explain it to me. I feel like if I was to sit and talk with someone about it maybe I could "see the light".
The Hellbound Heart- Clive Barker
Have I mentioned how much I enjoy recommendations? I do. I thrive on them. Music, movies, shows, ideas, television, activities. You name it. But books are my favorite. I love having someone hand me a book and say "You should read this." Not a James Patterson novel or Nora Roberts or even Shakespear. I like it when its one of theirs. Like a secret fantsy or a hidden mystery of the self. One of my coworkers from the store suggested this.
Interesting. Dark. To the point. I was impressed with how well the characters were painted in such a short time. I understood them, all of the very different personalities, so well. Identifying with the darkest needs and hungers while simulaniously retaining the innocence of the gentle contrasting parts. Humanity itself was well characterized in such a short summary.
I was a little disappointed, I'll admit, by the lack of grey areas. There was black and white by the end. No struggling to overcome tension within, no inner termoil I like to see so much in my stories. All of the drama and action was outside the characters. They dealt with them in a rather character static way without much real arch for any of them.
Maybe a three in five? Ratings are a lot harder to give, and ideas a lot harder to have, when there is no one to talk with books about. I wish I knew people I could trust to give feed back about books, what makes a good book, what elements they like to see, what writing skills mark different authors. The ease is definiately greater when in the company of others.
The story is told over one night, maybe its for that reason it feels so much like a dream I've had instead of a book I've read. It's how a house of insomniacs passes the evening. In particular the grandfather. He tells a story to himself to keep his own world at bay, while bringing himself into the story. I'm a sucker for characters and this is definitely a character driven story. I find myself relating so well to the mind of this man, identifying with him while he pushes and pulls bits of his life apart, pushes and pulls fragments of his own world into fiction, pushes and pulls a history of relationships and events around sorting out his own life. It's as if the whole of his world hinges on this night.
If I had to rate the book I'd give it a four out of five. While I really enjoy the things of Auster that I've read parts of me always feel a little like I've been there before. He has no moments in which I find myself compelled to rest in the story and ponder ideas, no words that force me to slow and admire their beauty or truth. Instead he wanders through dark streets that always remind me of a black and white film. He feels like a friend at night. So I like this story (and the New York Trilogy) and I'd certainly recommend them, but I won't change my favorite facebook book list to add him.
The Stranger- Albert Camus
When you read frequently you'll notice authors are sometimes like reading lists themselves. They often reference other books, authors, or topics. In fact if you start working your way through one book you and you deeply wish to understand it, if it has any great merit, you could probably spend your whole life just working through the secondary works of one whole book. That's why I picked Camus. First and foremost because he shows up in all the books I read as a reference (including the one I'm reading now) and second because he's published philosophical works. I'm a snob. I feel like I should know about all philosophers and while I don't always enjoy reading their stuff if they've published a fictional piece I really should read it.
So I picked up Camus. And yes, I decided which book to take home based on how many we are modeled for in the store. Modeling is determined by what we sell, therefore, in my own way I picked a "best seller".
The story is about a man who goes to his mothers funeral, meets some people, and kills a man. Maybe I just gave away the plot. Maybe I just told you the whole book. There isn't much to it. I guess I wasn't a huge fan because the main character has almost no emotions. Which is the point of the story, I understand how objectively it's told, I understand, hell even enjoy the structure (written very much in an american fashion) but there is no way for me to connect with the story because there are so few real emotions or even ideas to reach out and hold.
I left the story feeling like "That's it?" Maybe I should try another one. They're short stories, it's almost no work to get through one, maybe if I lower my expectations I'll see what all the fuss is about. Maybe you can explain it to me. I feel like if I was to sit and talk with someone about it maybe I could "see the light".
The Hellbound Heart- Clive Barker
Have I mentioned how much I enjoy recommendations? I do. I thrive on them. Music, movies, shows, ideas, television, activities. You name it. But books are my favorite. I love having someone hand me a book and say "You should read this." Not a James Patterson novel or Nora Roberts or even Shakespear. I like it when its one of theirs. Like a secret fantsy or a hidden mystery of the self. One of my coworkers from the store suggested this.
Interesting. Dark. To the point. I was impressed with how well the characters were painted in such a short time. I understood them, all of the very different personalities, so well. Identifying with the darkest needs and hungers while simulaniously retaining the innocence of the gentle contrasting parts. Humanity itself was well characterized in such a short summary.
I was a little disappointed, I'll admit, by the lack of grey areas. There was black and white by the end. No struggling to overcome tension within, no inner termoil I like to see so much in my stories. All of the drama and action was outside the characters. They dealt with them in a rather character static way without much real arch for any of them.
Maybe a three in five? Ratings are a lot harder to give, and ideas a lot harder to have, when there is no one to talk with books about. I wish I knew people I could trust to give feed back about books, what makes a good book, what elements they like to see, what writing skills mark different authors. The ease is definiately greater when in the company of others.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Saturday Morning
I know I haven't had as many updates as I should. Part of the reason for this is because I have failed to keep some of my "resolutions". Namely I had my dance class end and did not re-enroll. I haven't cooked something new for myself in a few weeks. I haven't tried excessively hard to meet new people.
However, I have been busy. Some of the structure of my original ideas has been laid to waste to make way for unplanned for new experiences and people. Instead of cooking something new for myself last week a very nice old/new friend came over and cooked something marvelous. Instead of dancing in class I go out with a friend and support her while she tries to brave new social contacts for the first time.
I've finished two books since my last update. Which seems sad to me because there was a time when I could read three a week. Still since I am no longer a college student with the hours that go with it and since there is no longer someone like Brian in my life to constantly chatter about books and ideas with me the slower pace is, for now acceptable. Maybe.
The Ground Beneath Her Feet- Salman Rushdie
Initially I was a little hesitant about reading this book. It was the first book in a while I had picked out for myself and I picked it based on a scholarly paper that referenced it on the topic of the Sleeping Beauty story. I had read part of Rushdie's Satanic Verses several years prior and found it uninteresting. The images and characters from India were difficult for me to relate to, the mythology that interplayed with so much of the story had been over my head, and the story itself was a little weirder than what I was looking for at the time.
The Ground however was the other side of the coin. In this story Rushdie brought his India characters out of that world, without leaving any of it behind, and into the western world, more specifically into America. In doing so he gave voice to interesting ideas on major topics of love, life, death, fear, fame, and rock and roll from a more universal approach. It's been a long time since I felt a deep desire to underline in books, or even to bookmark important pages but this book re-awoke some of those habits.
There were moments in the story when I felt bored, when I wished to just "get on with it", or I felt like the details were unimportant. Maybe this was a short coming with myself as the reader, failing to appreciate the moments in each characters life that built to the climax. Still I didn't always feel it "building" anything.
Overall, it was particular scenes and lines that truly drew me into the book. Little golden treasures of words stored in between an average book. I will probably never read it again, but I will probably find myself using lines or moments from this book to reflect on life for the rest of mine.
How I Became Stupid- Martin Page
It was a quick read, done in under two days. Maybe its wrong, but I've always like a book that feels like it's reading itself to me. I found it on a whim while straightening the store at the end of the night. Its a story about an over educated intellectual who has experienced the ecclesiastic problem of sorrow that comes with knowledge. He tries three was of letting go of all of his mind crushing ideas in three ways. First he tries to drink it away, then he tries to kill himself, and finally he tries to become stupid via pills called Happyzac.
Here again, I liked particular moments but overall I felt like the story was a moralizing, lecturing, cliche. Which it told me initially it would be but I still felt slightly cheated when it was. The commentary on society was nothing I hadn't heard before; the jokes, while funny failed to be original; and the characters were rather unimpressive. It may be the "International Cult Classic" as the cover claims because it relies on the same ideas that have been circulating among those "cults" for decades now.
It was an average story told in an average way.
However, I have been busy. Some of the structure of my original ideas has been laid to waste to make way for unplanned for new experiences and people. Instead of cooking something new for myself last week a very nice old/new friend came over and cooked something marvelous. Instead of dancing in class I go out with a friend and support her while she tries to brave new social contacts for the first time.
I've finished two books since my last update. Which seems sad to me because there was a time when I could read three a week. Still since I am no longer a college student with the hours that go with it and since there is no longer someone like Brian in my life to constantly chatter about books and ideas with me the slower pace is, for now acceptable. Maybe.
The Ground Beneath Her Feet- Salman Rushdie
Initially I was a little hesitant about reading this book. It was the first book in a while I had picked out for myself and I picked it based on a scholarly paper that referenced it on the topic of the Sleeping Beauty story. I had read part of Rushdie's Satanic Verses several years prior and found it uninteresting. The images and characters from India were difficult for me to relate to, the mythology that interplayed with so much of the story had been over my head, and the story itself was a little weirder than what I was looking for at the time.
The Ground however was the other side of the coin. In this story Rushdie brought his India characters out of that world, without leaving any of it behind, and into the western world, more specifically into America. In doing so he gave voice to interesting ideas on major topics of love, life, death, fear, fame, and rock and roll from a more universal approach. It's been a long time since I felt a deep desire to underline in books, or even to bookmark important pages but this book re-awoke some of those habits.
There were moments in the story when I felt bored, when I wished to just "get on with it", or I felt like the details were unimportant. Maybe this was a short coming with myself as the reader, failing to appreciate the moments in each characters life that built to the climax. Still I didn't always feel it "building" anything.
Overall, it was particular scenes and lines that truly drew me into the book. Little golden treasures of words stored in between an average book. I will probably never read it again, but I will probably find myself using lines or moments from this book to reflect on life for the rest of mine.
How I Became Stupid- Martin Page
It was a quick read, done in under two days. Maybe its wrong, but I've always like a book that feels like it's reading itself to me. I found it on a whim while straightening the store at the end of the night. Its a story about an over educated intellectual who has experienced the ecclesiastic problem of sorrow that comes with knowledge. He tries three was of letting go of all of his mind crushing ideas in three ways. First he tries to drink it away, then he tries to kill himself, and finally he tries to become stupid via pills called Happyzac.
Here again, I liked particular moments but overall I felt like the story was a moralizing, lecturing, cliche. Which it told me initially it would be but I still felt slightly cheated when it was. The commentary on society was nothing I hadn't heard before; the jokes, while funny failed to be original; and the characters were rather unimpressive. It may be the "International Cult Classic" as the cover claims because it relies on the same ideas that have been circulating among those "cults" for decades now.
It was an average story told in an average way.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Quotes
"The ties that strangle us, which we call love. Because the loosening of these ties he became, with all the attendant pain of such becoming, free. But love is what we want, not freedom. Who then is the unluckier man? The beloved, who is given his heart's desire and must for ever after fear its loss, or the free man, with his unlooked for liberty, naked and alone between the captive armies of the earth?"
- The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie.
- The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Understanding Values
In my previous entry I made several remarks that is the groundwork for these thoughts tonight. The book that I'm reading, in spite of what I'm sure is a severely disapproving Barnes and Noble staff, is called To Be Told. It's found in the Christian Inspiration section, and yes, I am embarrassed. That being said, my friend Jessica recommended it. Recommendations mean a lot to me. This is particularly true of those I love. Since Jess now lives on the other side of the country I see the value in finding ways to connect with her that involve ideas more than geography. Maybe that inclination isn't a recent development, maybe it's one of the staples of our relationships, maybe I'm just using distance as an excuse to read a book that embarrasses me.
Maybes and reasons aside I'm reading the book, in short because on a variety of levels it's "good for me". Anyways, last night I was beginning and between the book and some of my life choices lately I've been thinking about values. How to identify them, how to use them, how to understand them, how to change them. In general I have been pondering the function and form of my own values in hopes that I would be rewarded with a more satisfying life.
What do I value? Well, I know that I express value most frequently with how I spend my time. Time is one of the measuring rods I have always used to understand the world. Time and space. Yes, everyone uses these to an extent but in different ways. In the depths of my soul I am an American of the ol' fashion sort. "Time is money." Meaning one of the measurements of value. The amount of time I am willing to spend on something is a very acurate expression of how important it is to me. So what do i spend my time on?
A friend of mine once suggested that I measure out my time. He said I should look at what I do on paper and with the numbers in front of me to realize what my life really is. For your viewing pleasure and my own personal enlightenment this is what it looks like: Out of 168 hours a week, I spend a minimum of 36 hours a week at my office job. Second place goes to Barnes and Noble where I tend to spend the better part of my nights and weekends usually totalling up to 20ish hours a week. I sleep on average 42 hours a week. I spend probably 15 hours a week driving. That leaves me with 55 hours a week to carve out a life. 55 hours of spare time.
So what do I value? I show what I value the same way in my freetime as I do in my working life, they work exactly the same for me. I value being part of something that is a family or like it, comfort, roles to slip into and masks to wear, insulation from my own mind (a place to explore it without having to comfront demons alone), movement, goals, rules, structure, challenges that are prearranged, people. This is the world I value. This is my ideal world. It's heavily populated, immensely productive, safely growing, acting in togetherness, following steps. If the bees ever invite me to move in I'll pack a bag and be off before nightfall. This is how I build my life.
Now, are these values worth holding? Is this world a world that I should allow to tumble? Ought I seek out environments like this or is it best that I haven't been able to master the perfect instituationalized life that I seem to enjoy so much? Does letting my world go to pieces around me make me a better person? Will being alone more often, saying no to "family situations", and steping out of my traditional roles give me a better insight on values worth holding?
Maybes and reasons aside I'm reading the book, in short because on a variety of levels it's "good for me". Anyways, last night I was beginning and between the book and some of my life choices lately I've been thinking about values. How to identify them, how to use them, how to understand them, how to change them. In general I have been pondering the function and form of my own values in hopes that I would be rewarded with a more satisfying life.
What do I value? Well, I know that I express value most frequently with how I spend my time. Time is one of the measuring rods I have always used to understand the world. Time and space. Yes, everyone uses these to an extent but in different ways. In the depths of my soul I am an American of the ol' fashion sort. "Time is money." Meaning one of the measurements of value. The amount of time I am willing to spend on something is a very acurate expression of how important it is to me. So what do i spend my time on?
A friend of mine once suggested that I measure out my time. He said I should look at what I do on paper and with the numbers in front of me to realize what my life really is. For your viewing pleasure and my own personal enlightenment this is what it looks like: Out of 168 hours a week, I spend a minimum of 36 hours a week at my office job. Second place goes to Barnes and Noble where I tend to spend the better part of my nights and weekends usually totalling up to 20ish hours a week. I sleep on average 42 hours a week. I spend probably 15 hours a week driving. That leaves me with 55 hours a week to carve out a life. 55 hours of spare time.
So what do I value? I show what I value the same way in my freetime as I do in my working life, they work exactly the same for me. I value being part of something that is a family or like it, comfort, roles to slip into and masks to wear, insulation from my own mind (a place to explore it without having to comfront demons alone), movement, goals, rules, structure, challenges that are prearranged, people. This is the world I value. This is my ideal world. It's heavily populated, immensely productive, safely growing, acting in togetherness, following steps. If the bees ever invite me to move in I'll pack a bag and be off before nightfall. This is how I build my life.
Now, are these values worth holding? Is this world a world that I should allow to tumble? Ought I seek out environments like this or is it best that I haven't been able to master the perfect instituationalized life that I seem to enjoy so much? Does letting my world go to pieces around me make me a better person? Will being alone more often, saying no to "family situations", and steping out of my traditional roles give me a better insight on values worth holding?
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