The Reading Week in Review: Second Chances, Good and Bad

The theme of my reading week came down to two words: Second Chances. One is meant in the positive, with Richard Hugo's poems about redemption and looking back on life. The other kind of second chance holds terrifying possibilities in Stephen King's Pet Sematary. They were two very different reads, but in the end they both dealt with trying to make a bad thing right again.

I finished King's novel at the beginning of the week, and I liked it better than I expected. I really respect Stephen King for his love for the craft of writing and for the way he champions other writers and artists. However, I often find his work a little heavy-handed and self-indulgent. Pet Sematary definitely had its moments of awkward writing, and it didn't particularly scare me. But what I enjoyed about the book wasn't the horror plot or the mood. I enjoyed it for the very mature and terrifying way it handled raw grief. From the very beginning, the book is dripping with forthcoming doom, but that didn't keep me from being completely shaken up by what happens about half-way through.

[SPOILER ALERT AHEAD!] After the main character, Louis Creed, loses his toddler son, I couldn't help but feel every possible stab of grief and horror he and his family encountered. The grief is so profound in this part of the book that it made for a really hard reading experience. When the "horror" aspect of the book began at this half-way point, what made it so scary wasn't the bringing back of the dead or the possible wendigo that haunts the woods. What made it scary was how realistic it was that a man in Louis Creed's position might choose to do what he does in attempting to resurrect his dead child. After finishing the book, I had to admit that had I been in the protagonist's position, I might have very well done the exact same thing. How could you not be tempted to end your own grief and the horrible, thick sadness of your family by bringing back what was lost? So although Pet Sematary in and of itself left me a little cold (I much prefer King's Salem's Lot, which is much scarier and slightly better written), I had to give King a big round of applause for the way he dealt with a very real, fresh emotion that even "literary" writers sometimes shy away from.

The other book I read this week was Richard Hugo's 1980 collection of poetry, White Center. I really like Hugo, which isn't a surprise considering he was a student of Theodore Roethke and a close friend of James Wright, two of my favorite poets. At the time these poems were written, Hugo was a recovering alcoholic who dealt with serious bouts of depression and struggled to re-enter himself into family life. Hugo probably writes the most wonderful descriptions of nature that I have read in poetry. His work is very deft; the man does not waste space on lots of adjectives. His poems are full of short, even choppy, sentences, and the emotional pull is always simmering below the surface. Occasionally, a short line of confession will appear as if by magic and change the entire way you read the poem.

My favorite two poems in the collection are "Second Chances" and "White Center." "White Center" deals with returning to a home that is no longer your own. As the speaker (presumably, Hugo himself) wanders his childhood haunts, he sees himself both everywhere and nowhere in it. It's a really cool piece, and it has one of my all time favorite poetic opening statements: "Town or poem, I don't care how it looks." Meanwhile, "Second Chances" talks about Hugo's newfound, surprising happiness after having been in ruin for so long. But not all is as it seems, as the poet confesses he's still tempted by the old life, and even now, he doesn't feel quite right in his skin. The poem ends with a really cool image in which Hugo uses a children's game called "ghost" to show his discomfort: "a game where, according to the rules, you take / another child's name in your mind but pretend / you're still you while others guess your new name." It's a beautiful, haunting image that goes along well with a strong collection of poetry.

Coming up: I just bought Pete Dexter's brand-spanking-new novel, Spooner, and I'm excited to start it. My new bookstore job has the oh-so-wonderful perk of discounts, so I'm once again buying hardcovers and poetry books!

The Reading Week in Review: Fitzgerald Week Comes To an End

Well everyone, Fitzgerald Week is finally coming to a close. I really enjoyed chatting about my favorite writer with you all this week, but I look forward to taking on other subjects in the weeks ahead. Fitzgerald's Birthday was a smashing personal success for me this year. During the day, I got two calls for job interviews, and I had the chance to talk to some of my closest friends on the phone. The night ended with a cake my parents got for the occasion that proudly proclaimed "Happy Birthday, Fitz!" That's right. Even my parents play into my delusions now.

I read two Fitzgerald-related things this week: his short story "Winter Dreams," and the graphic novel The Left Bank Gang. The Left Bank Gang, written by my favorite graphic novelist, Jason (one-name only), pictures the Lost Generation bumming around Paris as animals/cartoonists who struggle with their art, their families, and their poverty. Tired of being poor, Hemingway cracks a plan with Ezra Pound, James Joyce, and Fitzgerald to rob the purse of a prizefight. The whole thing falls apart as humanity's darker, jealous side takes over. It's a sad story that takes drastic liberties with these famous writers' lives, but it's a fun and breezy read nonetheless. The Hemingway character is very well-written, and Fitzgerald is in full-on tragedy mode here. I recommend it to anyone who's interested in the Lost Generation or just a really good, action-packed story.

"Winter Dreams," meanwhile, was also a good read. I hadn't read this story, one of Fitzgerald's most famous, in years. It meant a lot more to me now that I'm older. The famous Fitzgerald scholar, Matthew J. Bruccoli, introduces the story by claiming that it provided some of the inspiration/work for The Great Gatsby. Like most of Fitzgerald's short stories, it's about lost love, but the ending is quite poignant, and the fate of former-heartbreaker Judy Jones is sad indeed. Fitzgerald's stories are beautifully written, particuarly the stuff from this mid-1920s time period.

In non-Fitzgerald reading, I finished Ivan Turgenev's novel, Fathers and Sons, earlier this week. I was inspired to read the book after seeing Gary Shteyngart's awesome NPR piece about it. I can't compete with Shteyngart's views on the book, and I agree with him that it's awesome, so I suggest you look at his piece to see why. Turgenev was writing at the same time as Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, but he did it in a much smaller space. Fathers and Sons is about 1/6 the size of War and Peace. It was a fantasic read - entertaining and intelligent at once. The characters are put together very well, and I was pleased by Constance Garnett's translation. (For those of you who don't know, Constance Garnett is a fascinating figure, translating nineteenth century Russian novelists in the early twentieth century at amazing speed). This book would make a great jumping off point for anyone looking to get into nineteenth-century Russian literature, arguably the greatest literary period/place in history. It's an absolutely wonderful, and wonderfully quick, read.

Speaking of Turgenev, I learned an interesting fact about that man that links into my Tolstoy problem which you've all heard about here several times (the problem being his pomposity, of course). Apparently, Turgenev was always getting into political and literary fights with Dostoevksy and Tolstoy, despite being sometime friends with both. Once, Tolstoy became so angry with Turgenev that he challenged him to a duel, only to back off on it later. A duel! This is why I love Russian literature, people...

The Reading Week in Review: Fail. But Next Week's Exciting!

So, I was a reading failure this week. I spent the whole first four days of the week picking through my bookshelf, distracted and disappointed. After the great books I read last week, I was in a post-good-book reading fog, unable to find anything to sate my thirst for a good story.

In good news, though, I am half-way through Ivan Turgenev's novel, Fathers and Sons, and I am loving it so far. I'll give you whole scoop on it when I finish it next week.

But, in the bestest news ever, next week is (da-da-da-DAH!) FITZGERALD WEEK! That's right, next Thursday is F. Scott Fitzgerald's birthday, and I am celebrating it all week long with Fitzgerald-related posts for the entire week. I see Fitzgerald's birthday as a way to celebrate my hardcore geek love for all things reading and writing, so I always enjoy the holiday. See you all next week with some awesome posts!


Happy Reading, everyone!

The Reading Week in Review: Why I Read

This morning I saw a stand-up special on Comedy Central at the exact wrong moment. The comedian was talking about how much he hates books and reading, about how movies were made because the act of reading is so time-consuming and boring. I know it's just a schtick; this particular comedian plays the dumb redneck-type quite often. But it still managed to get me all riled up. Probably because I know too many people who actually do think this way. They don't understand hard-core readers because they find reading tedious. This always depresses me. I can't imagine going my whole life without books. I'd go insane! What do these non-readers do with their imaginations, their desires for entertainment? Do they even have imaginations? Yes, movies and TV shows tell stories. But they leave nothing to chance; there's no interaction. When I'm reading a book, I get the power to create the world the story inhabits. Not to mention all the beauties and intricacies of language that are missing from movies, and the fact that books are remarkable for being the vision of a single individual. Reading is important!

This week was full of great reminders about why I love books and reading, particularly fiction. I started off the week strong, with Marilynne Robinson's awesome wonderful fantastic novel, Home (which I won't go into since you can read about it below). Then I finished the week with Hannah Tinti's The Good Thief. Tinti's Dickensian novel did not have the striking style or potent language of Robinson, but it was extremely entertaining and completely wrapped me up in its story. The Good Thief centers around a one-handed orphan boy named Ren. Ren is "saved" from the orphanage by the mysterious and devious Benjamin Nab, who uses Ren to help him pull scams, including, eventually, grave robbery and body-stealing. They meet lots of interesting people along the way, and they have adventures both serious and hilarious. The book was a lot of fun to read and had a surprising emotional pay-off in the end. I'd easily recommend this to anyone who just wants to spend some hours immersed in a rousing tale.

That's why I read. Because I want to be inside a wonderful little world that both mirrors and distorts our own realities. Whether it's a world constructed of language, such as the one Robinson creates, or a world constructed of storytelling and tone, such as Tinti's, it doesn't matter. As long as it captivates me, makes me feel simultaneously inside and outside my actual world, and strikes some kind of honest emotional chord, I am extremely happy. Reading is my single greatest pleasure in life, and I hope you all often feel so enamored with it yourselves.

The Reading Week in Review: Two Awesome Stories

I have to admit that I did very little reading this week. I was busy applying for jobs, and I was in a weird, in-between-books mood of discontent. But I did re-discover a couple of kick-ass short stories that I haven't read in a long time. The first was "Lull," by Kelly Link, from her book, Magic for Beginners. The second came from Yann Martel's story collection, The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios, and is titled "The Time I Heard the Private Donald J. Rankin String Concerto with One Discordant Violin, by the American Composer John Morton."

Let's start with "Lull." This isn't a story I'd easily recommend. It's complicated, twisty, and VERY strange. But for some reason, I absolutely adore it. Set up as a story-within-a-story-within-a-story, "Lull" begins as a story about sad-sack middle aged men who play cards together and evolves into a mess about the nature of narrative, the devil, aliens, and clones. It's weird and beautiful at once. The opening paragraphs are some of my all-time favorites. I really enjoyed going back to Link's story and becoming completely absorbed in it again.

Martel's "The Time I Heard..." was an even more rewarding reading experience. The first time I read this story was as a college freshmen. Back then, I had little to no interest in classical music. But as I made friends with musicians and became more introspective, I began to fall in love with classical music. This story was a million times better this time around because of that new musical understanding. The story itself is threadbare, the narrator a little too undercooked, and it might get just a tad melodramatic at the end, all evidence that Martel wrote these stories when he was quite young and before he had any kind of literary fame. But in the middle of the story are some absolutely breathtaking passages describing music. Here is one such passage:

What a strange, wonderous thing, music. At last the chattering mind is silenced. No past to regret, no future to worry about, no more frantic knitting of words and thoughts. Only a beautiful, soaring nonsense. Sound - made pleasing and intelligible through melody, rhythm, harmony, and counterpoint - becomes our thinking. The grunting of language and the drudgery of semiotics are left behind. Music is a bird's answer to the noise and heaviness of words. It puts the mind in a state of exhilarated speechlessness.

So even though I didn't read anything of significant heft this week, I enjoyed my short stories greatly.


Note:My regular schedule for next week will be upset a little, as I am heading to Alabama tomorrow morning and won't be back until Monday night. I will post my Poem of the Week on Tuesday, as well as creating a new list for you all. Best of all, I just bought two new books for the trip: Home, Marilynne Robinsons' semi-sequel to Gilead, and a Dickensian novel by Hannah Tinti entitled The Good Thief that just came out in paperback. You can expect to hear all about them next week!