Reading Faceoff: Classics Edition

I've been avoiding a few big-time classics for awhile, mainly because they are so long.

I've decided to buck up and read at least one of them, and, since I'm so bad at making decisions, I thought I'd leave it up to you. With that I bring you Reading Faceoff, Round One: Classics Edition. Voting ends in two days, so vote now! Feel free to comment to further explain your choice.

UPDATE: Voting is closed! I didn't mean to delete the poll, but I did and I guess life just sucks, doesn't it? Take my word for it: Anna Karenina won, with a whopping (not really whopping, but I like the word) 40% of the vote.

I don't expect to have finish it too too soon...procrastination is still my forte, and I've been putting this one off for years. So, expect a post on it...soonish.

Is this woman capable of doing wrong? I don't think so.

Rape: A Love Story
Joyce Carol Oates

You have to hand it to Joyce Carol Oates: homegirl knows how to pick an attention-grabbing title. In fact, as soon as I read the title, I immediately knew I wanted to read the book, without even reading anything else about it. Of course, it's Joyce Carol Oates. Enough said.

This novel reads more like a short story, and I finished it in a single afternoon. And while the storyline is fascinating, it’s her method of telling the story that really wowed me. The novel is broken up into small, bite-size chapters, some only as long as a paragraph. This succinctness allows the reader to feel the action as small punches to the gut, much like Teena Maguire must have felt when she was gang raped on the Fourth of July.

The novel begins, in a nod to Oates' brilliant technique, with both the rape AND the neighborhood’s reaction to it, a reaction that is tantamount to “Bitch deserved it.” After all, Teena was a single mother. She was dressed provocatively. She was walking home alone with her daughter after midnight, after leaving a party, when she should have been at home. She took a shortcut through a park. Obviously, she was asking for it.

This mentality is strengthened by the community’s resolve that the perpetrators are good boys; enter a shark of a lawyer who really twists the events of that night, and it’s no wonder that Teena, left for dead and horribly ruined, wishes she were dead. Affected even more by these events is Bethie, Teena's daughter, witness to the rape and just as battered, although physically speaking, relatively unharmed. Even Bethie is powerless to help her mother, but it’s not for lack of trying. But, really, what can a twelve-year-old do in the face of such ruthless malevolence?

Someone, however, can help, someone who is not so connected to Teena and Bethie. This unlikely savior watches as the town turns its back on these victims and champions the perpetrators instead. He vows to avenge this crime, and he’s in a position to do it. The story unwinds just as relentlessly as the opening pages, and you'll find that you won't be able to rest until the last page has turned.

Rape: A Love Story delivers a look into the mentality of those capable of wreaking such harm on another person, and it examines the depths of suffering one can endure. It looks into the hearts of those who turn their backs on those in need, and those who must do something to help. Everyone has a voice in this story, even those we wish to silence. We learn that pain is unavoidable. Release from this pain is also possible - but only if we are willing to help one another.

In a nutshell: Um, Ms. Oates, since we live like 2 minutes from one another, maybe we can do lunch sometime? Hit up that little Thai place, you know the one - my treat, I swear! Wait, you don't like Thai? Doesn't matter - I'll cook! On second thought, I better not. Okay, you pick the place. You’re the best! Call me!

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

Now THIS one I woulda paid for

Olive Kitteridge
Elizabeth Strout

This is another book that I received through LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program, and at first I was worried it would prove to be another Larryisms. This belief was aided by the cover, which just gave off a whiff of boring (I’m glad to see they changed the design for the final edition). But still poor Olive sat for weeks on end as I delayed and delayed reading it.

I finally picked it up and scanned the first few pages. I was hooked immediately. It’s rare when a book grips me from the opening pages; usually at least at least 20 pages are needed before I start to really care about what I’m reading. Olive was so good that I was able to read it in just a few hours; I simply could not put it down.

Olive Kitteridge is a novel told in stories; some center around Olive herself, while others only peripherally involve her. I enjoyed watching my own perception of Olive change during the course of my reading; the first story, “Pharmacy,” which concerns her husband Henry’s relationship with his co-worker, presents Olive as mean-spirited and shrewish. My opinion of Olive as a cold-hearted bitch who treats her poor husband like shit would change as Strout further develops the character. After a few more stories, Olive became a real person, and I was ultimately saddened to finish the book.

The stories are presented in chronological order, and we watch Olive progress from middle-aged wife to elderly widow. Subsequent stories involve her son’s marriage to a selfish you-know-what, the loss of a neighbor’s husband, her own husband’s stroke. Through it all, Olive maintains her uncompromising attitude, even as she is surprised by the turns life takes.

I only wish that they had changed the design of the cover a bit more: Strout's name is uncomfortably large, the title uncomfortably small. I kept getting the two confused, wondering who this Olive Kitteridge person was. It also smacks of pride to have the author's name so large, although this is probably less Strout's doing than the publisher's. Minor gripes aside, I'd love to read more of her. (Again, the cover was changed upon publication.)

In a nutshell: A wonderful surprise, these stories do not waste a single word. Would-be writers would do well to study Strout's prose.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

Thank God this was free

Larryisms: Book One
Larry John

For the record, Larry John seems like a nice guy. He seems like the type who could swig back a few beers, tell a few stories, and eat so much off the grill that you feel like an anorexic supermodel standing next to him. And to that I say: Bravo, Larry John.

However, a good drinking buddy does not a good author make, so I’m just gonna call this one like I see it right from the get-go: at best, this is a bathroom book, plain and simple. At worst, well, it’s a waste of money, but I got it for free, so no worries on my end.

I received Larryisms (Book One, mind you) as part of LibraryThing’s Early Reviewer program. It’s a short book, filled with the wit and wisdom of one Larry John, a self-proclaimed “pragmatic thinker.” On his website, Larry defines the pragmatic thinker as “a person who observes oneself, other people and the issues of the world around them, as ‘practically’ as possible.” Larry intends Larryisms: Book One as an introduction to this philosophy. Larry further explains that “applying the philosophy of pragmatic thinking to your business life as well as your personal life will enable you to more fully understand your day to day existence and enjoy what life has to offer.”

Wow! I’m all about enjoying life and understanding my everyday existence. Let’s dive in.

Hm. Larry wonders, “Do we really have to get along?” Deep.

Now he offers, “People are so overrated.” So true.

Later, he ponders, “Solitude is hard to find even when you’re alone.” Preach it, brother!

Now consider this question for the ages: “Even when it is totally dark you still have to close your eyes to sleep. Why is that?” Yes, why is that? It’s an impenetrable mystery, I know. Perhaps one day anatomists will be able to solve the mystery of the eyelid.

Multiply these deep thoughts by about 100 and now you have Larryisms. I’m glad Larry is very pro-thinking – thinking seems to be a dying art these days – but I’m not sure what I would have thought had I paid 15 bucks for this book.

In a nutshell: Great for when you're feeling a little backed up ... but Book One?!? May the Fates save us from Book Two.

Bibliolatry Scale: 1 out of 6 stars

It's always the little things

Enduring Love
Ian McEwan

It’s funny how even the happiest times can be suddenly and forever ruined by the simplest of things. A poorly-planned remark when joking with a pal. A turned ankle while running the stairs. A glance down when driving. The most innocuous of acts can have life-long consequences.

The characters in Ian McEwan’s novels know this fact of life very well, as many of his characters suffer devastating effects from the most mundane of actions. Enduring Love is no different; Joe sits down to a lovely picnic with his wife moments away from a catastrophe that, unbeknownst to him, will change him forever.

He does not know that the hot-air balloon that has just entered his sight will be the impetus for his fleeting glimpse into madness and the near dissolution of his marriage. He does not know that this seemingly innocent picnic will end life as he currently knows it.

The novel begins as Joe and his wife enjoy a nice afternoon picnic. A hot-air balloon crosses the field, bringing death to this pastoral. Joe, for his part, cannot be blamed for running to help; several other bystanders also follow their Good Samaritan instincts and race to the scene. Each struggles to save an innocent boy trapped by his hapless grandfather’s inability to correctly pilot the balloon. Tragedy is not averted, and all are forever changed.

In the wake of the accident, Joe is plagued by his memory of that day and must grapple with his own actions. Did he do enough? Should he have done more? Ironically enough, Joe is changed less by his involvement in the accident than by his involvement with another responder to the scene, Jed Parry. Joe makes the fateful mistake of exchanging a glance with this man, a glance that Jed twists and turns to serve his growing obsession.

Jed is obsessed with Joe, believing Joe is sending him secret messages via curtains and glances. Jed stalks Joe, hoping to find another “message.” Worse still, Clarissa doubts Jed even exists – she certainly never sees him, never hears his messages. Has Joe truly deleted Jed's messages out of a sickening dread of the man? Or is he going insane? Is there any way for him to recover his old life?

In a nutshell: I was riveted by my third excursion into the world of McEwan, and although it didn’t reach the heights of Atonement, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed the read.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Lament for a Lost Friend

Sing for me, O Muse, the story of love, a mournful song in new strains, with tears; for now I will cry out a song for love lost, telling how he was destroyed by the four-footed beast that moved in stealth, and stole him when I was most vulnerable.

I have lost a friend and know not where to turn. Months have been lost in vain search, each new search as fruitless as those that preceded it.

This is the story of my lost friend, the Lewis Carroll bookmark.

My bookmark and I met a few years ago, as I browsed in my local Barnes and Noble store. The moment I set eyes upon his oddly-shaped visage, I just knew we were meant to be. Ignoring all the other authors boasting bookmarks of their own, I immediately snapped up Mr. Dodgson and headed right to the register.

Since that fateful day, we've enjoyed many good reads together, and while I have dozens of bookmarks, he has always been my first choice. As a result, he accompanied me through tragedy and comedy, through excellence and garbage. He watched me weep with sadness after completing a moving work; though he wanted to comfort me, his arms were never quite long enough, although the intent was always there. I could always read his eyes.

Recently, however, a cloud has descended upon our once bright love. I'm not sure when the severance occurred, but it has slowly dawned on me that I have not seen my beloved in quite some time. I searched in vain, beginning with books I'd recently read.

Nothing.

I then switched tactics, searching in books I've abandoned or left unfinished. Still nothing. My large collection of books, once a source of pride, now only mock me, for surely one of them hides Mr. Carroll. Glancing at my library only reminds me that he is in there, somewhere, hiding -- or worst yet, captive, waiting for the day when I will rescue him. Each new days brings with it a new possibility, and yet a rifling of the pages yields only despair.

I must face facts: my beloved bookmark is gone.

I know that I could purchase a new one here, but I think we all know it won't be the same. Instead I offer up this lament, that the fates might intercede and bring Lewis yet again before my eyes.

The renowned singer sang these things. But Bibliolatrist melted,
and wet the cheeks below her eyelids with a tear.
As when a woman laments, falling over the body of her dear husband
who fell before his city and people,
attempting to ward off the pitiless day for his city and children,
and she, seeing him dying and gasping,
falling around him wails with piercing cries, but men from behind
beating her back and shoulders with their spears
force her to be a slave and have toil and misery,
and with the most pitiful grief her cheeks waste away,
So Bibliolatrist shed a pitiful tear beneath her brows.

Sometimes a little negativity can actually be positive

I found this meme on negative reviews over at the hidden side of a leaf and thought it was interesting. Then I googled "grumpy" and found this grumpy cookie. Now that's what I call kismet.

But damn I could go for a grumpy cookie right about now. Hell, I'd even take a happy cookie.


1. When you dislike a book, do you say so in your blog? Why or why not?

Absolutely, because I believe that books – whether good or bad – should evoke a visceral reaction in the reader. The worst reaction I could have is one of total apathy. In fact, I’d have to say that some of my best reviews were for books I didn’t like.


2. Do you temper your feelings about books you didn’t like, so as not to completely slam them? Why or why not?

I won’t slam a new author, but established ones (like Crichton) who write shite books and make millions off them – that’s a different story.


3. What do you think is the best way to respond when you see a negative review about a book you enjoyed?

Books are meant to provoke thought, conversation, an exchange of ideas, so the best way to respond to a negative review is to do so politely, in the interest of creating that exchange of ideas. The worst way would be to write a total asshole reply in which you call the reviewer names. I’ve had it done to me before and such comments say a lot about the commenter. Either spark an intelligent dialogue or keep your mouth shut.


4. What is your own most common reaction when you see a negative review of a book you loved or a positive review of a book you hated?

I don’t care too much if someone takes to a book differently than I did – in fact, I actually like that better, because a different opinion usually further informs my own. At times, an opposing review will only strengthen my original take on a book, but other times it makes me question myself. Either way, I really can’t lose.


5. What is your own most common reaction when you get a comment that disagrees with your opinion of a book?

As long as the comment is polite and rational, I am always open to comments that disagree with my opinion. I started my blog to create a place where I can interact with people about the books I read, and if everyone just says “I totally agree” and “You’re so right” all the time, that interaction becomes a bit stagnant. Disharmony creates growth, so long as people are polite.


6. What if you don’t like a book that was a free review copy? What then?

I agree with Dewey: this is a tough one. If the author is just starting out, I feel unethical slamming them, but I also can’t lie. I’ll either not review the book or else give it a bland review; thankfully, this hasn’t happened too much.


7. What do you do if you don’t finish a book? Do you review it or not? If you review it, do you mention that you didn’t finish it?

If the book is so bad that I was literally unable to finish it, then yes, I do review it. It’s only happened a couple times, and generally the situation involves a book so bad that I felt the need to warn others about it. Usually though, I always finish a book, even if it takes me awhile to get around to it.

Valhalla, I am coming

The Terror
Dan Simmons

I’ve been told there are two types of people in the world: those who read the whale parts of Moby Dick, and those who skip them. I proudly admit to being among the latter, even though the above maxim omits a larger section of the population: those who don’t read Melville’s masterpiece at all. Whale parts notwithstanding, I’m proud I managed even 85% of it, and for one very simple reason: boats confuse the shit out of me.

First, there’s the terminology. What the hell’s wrong with saying “front, “back,” and “side”? Start throwing around terms like aft and starboard and god only knows what and my eyes immediately glaze over like a lonely nerd viewing his first Playboy. Considering Moby Dick is about 800 pages of such boat-ness, I’m just pleased I even minimally understood what I read, even though I probably imagined things happening all kinds of wrong. Oh well.

I discuss my literary psychology to explain my initial hesitation regarding The Terror. Despite glowing reviews from many people, several words loomed in my mind’s eye, inciting a growing terror of my own. Boats. Explorers. History. Boats.

Boats? History? BOATS? For how many pages, exactly???

What the hell kinda snoozefest is this?

Nevertheless, my bookish destiny intervened yet again, throwing The Terror into my path at every opportunity. Needless to say, I bowed to my fates, praying that it wouldn’t be too painful.

Surprisingly enough, The Terror was one of the best books I HAVE EVER READ. I’m not sure anything I can say will come close to describing its excellence.

First, I'll start with what history calls its own: In 1845, two ships (Erebus and Terror) sailed from England. Sir John Franklin, the leader of the expedition, was determined to find the Northwest Passage, the passage above Canada that connects the Atlantic and the Pacific.

Right: Sir John Franklin, leader of the expedition

Unfortunately, the pack ice (great expanses of extremely thick ice) was especially problematic this year, and the ships – and their crews – were frozen in for a period of three years. What happens then is not exactly known, but for the final outcome: ALL perish. There were no survivors, but whether the men succumbed to frigid temperatures (at times reaching -50F), starvation, mutiny, or cannibalism is anyone’s guess.


Left: Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier, the expedition's second-in-command

Enter Dan Simmons to fill in history’s gaps. He fleshes out characters whose real-life personalities have been sacrificed to history’s cold memory, creating Franklin (an idealistic fool), Crozier (an able and determined yet emotionally weak captain), and Goodsir (an inexperienced yet reliable doctor) in addition to countless other characters, from stewards to officers and everyone in between. The use of multiple voices contribute to our understanding of what happens both in their souls and on the ice.

Unfortunately for these men, they are not alone on the treacherous ice that shifts and cracks continuously around them. Something on the ice is stalking them, something intelligent enough to taunt and torture them.

Sometimes I can be quite juvenile, I know

As these men are stuck on the ice for months upon months, their food stores slowly dwindling and madness closing in, they soon realize that there is no escape. Not from the ice, from the thing, or from themselves. And while we know these men are doomed from the opening pages, Simmons is still able to inject both suspense and hope into this chilling novel. The end, as much as it can be, is uplifting.

Finally, I'd like to debunk the biggest criticism levied against The Terror. A few have argued that it is too long, too filled with back story, that Simmons should have excised chunks of text to create more suspense or cohesion.

To that I say: DON’T BE DAFT.

Not a single chapter detracts from the story. At almost 800 pages long, The Terror neither relents nor descends into dullness. If his other works are even half as good as this one, I'll definitely be happy to read more of him.

In a nutshell: Chilling, heartbreaking, uplifting ... perfect. I didn't even mind the boat parts.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars

Survival of the Fittest

It's over.

This is the worst time of year as far as I'm concerned. It is a time when days off are few and far between, a time of endless stretches of monotony. It is a time of bleak weather and bleaker minds, a time when true learning takes a backseat to getting an A. It is a time when students and teachers alike are harried and cynical, every second's passing being felt painfully, long as hours.

Thankfully, I've survived.

After tomorrow, I will enjoy a ten-day break, enough to last me to summer. If I can make it that long, I will revel in the freedom of entire days to myself. If I can make it that long, I will reclaim my self for myself. If I can make it that long, I will run, I will read, I will do whatever the fuck I please even if it means I don't brush my hair or change out of my pajamas. If I can make it that long, I will post again. A lot.

If I can make it that long.

I can. I will. I must.

In more uplifting news, I've enjoyed a spate of excellent reading as of late, so be on the lookout for, among other posts, reviews on:

The Terror, by Dan Simmons
Rape: A Love Story, by Joyce Carol Oates
Enduring Love, by Ian McEwan
Soldier's Heart, by Elizabeth Samet
The Grandmothers, by Doris Lessing

And yes I know I've been attempting to review Lessing forever but god forgive me but discussing that damn thing is just so not what I want to do so suffice it to say that it was good but I read too much Lessing all at once and now I never want to hear her name mentioned again so please just bear with me...whew)

In the meantime, in the spirit of greener pastures yet to come, I give you Portishead's latest. It's been quite awhile since they've released a new cd, and I say it's well worth the wait. Their newest, Machine Gun, is below; below that is one of my favorites, Over, from their live cd.

Wednesday links

Coming to me via Jacket Copy: books, books, and more books! First, there's Flickr's Bookshelf Project, wherein people publish photos of...you guessed it, bookshelves. Flickr also gives us Book Piles, which is not as interesting but still noteworthy. The best of them all, however, is this amazing staircase, which helps a cramped apartment display its books. WANT. WANT. WANT.

In other news, an online book program has recently been launched; the first episode features books by Charles Bock, Susan Choi, Colin Harrison, and Richard Price. View it here.

Like weird things? Click here to read some of the oddest book titles of the year. I'm partial to If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs. Nice!

If you like sci-fi, here's a couple good links for you. The first dicusses what your taste in sci-fi says about your outlook on the world. The second, although not about books per se, still piqued my interest, discussing as it does movie endings -- which would you change? I don't know enough about movies -- books are my bag, obviously -- but that makes me wonder, which bookish ending would you change? I'll be back with that post soon.