Back to the present day, we take a look at something that I already knew something about. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is an adaptation-prone work, so let me explain further. There is the original book, by Ken Kesey. There is the play, adapted by Dale Wasserman. There is the movie, starring Jack Nicholson and adapted by Milos Forman. The movie was interesting in that it was actually filmed at the same hospital that the book was set in, giving it a very truthful adaptation.
Having seen the play before, I was excited to read the book. The play was, for the most part, comedic. Billy Bibbit with his stutter, Ellis coming down off the wall, Martini being wacky, and most of all, McMurphy. Big Randle McMurphy running around causing havoc. The whole thing was hilarious. Chief Bromden, however, is given a tiny role in the play. He enters as a sort of narrator, hallucinating the audience before him and talking of the combine. At the time (this being a couple of years ago) I considered him a bother, a bit of trivial add-on that detracted from the real story. Well, I apologize. The book is narrated by the Chief, and his concentrated, exacting narrative gives the book a special kind of life. His hallucinations even serve to help the story, the fog and the size of people showing things as they are instead of how they look. It gives a reversal of the usual "things aren't always as they seem" concept.
The characters are still wonderful in the book. Being a fan of psychology, having the archetypes of the nervous Oedipal (Billy Bibbit), the paranoid delusional (Martini), and more there reacting to everything was simply entertaining. Then the villains. The black boys, supposedly rapists and at the very least sadistic jerks, are their as the henchman. But the true antagonist is Nurse Ratched. An old Army nurse, she rules the ward with an iron fist, quelling any sort of rebellion. So when McMurphy hits the scene, full of swagger and raw power, we're faced with an immovable object versus an irresistable force. In the end, Nurse Ratched loses the battle but defeats her opponent, giving one of the most bittersweet endings I've ever seen.
I'd like to take a moment to applaud the multiple tracks that the human mind can work on. I've been on this journey of reading for a while now, and I certainly believe that I have improved in terms of knowledge and understanding when it comes to literature. I've gotten better at dealing with complex books, and altogether feel liek my smartitude has improved. And yet, I'm writing this while watching Recess on Family Channel, and fully enjoying every bit of it. How is it possible for both the Iliad and Recess to reach someone in the same way? Gotta love the human mind.
Anyways, I liked One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.
9/10
Friday, November 26, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
#8 - Heart of Darkness
One of the classic works of high school English, Heart of Darkness was muttered in the same breaths as Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Brave New World. We were told to be afraid of Conrad's work on the travels of Marlow, and that those 100-odd pages of writing were filled with the darkest, slowest reading we were to find in school. Well, I don't know if it was the Iliad that I was comparing it to, or the Moby Dick I had suffered prior, but I don't believe that it was nearly as bad as people said.
First, a word about Joseph Conrad. Josef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski was a pretty rad dude. Born in the Russian Empire in what is now Ukraine, of Polish descent, dodged the Russian draft by going to France, had learned four languages before even beginning to learn English, and went sailing for about twenty years (including smuggling guns and drugs) before settling down to have a remarkably robust literary career. Basically, he's fairly kickass. And if you weren't already feeling bad, he had inherited Polish nobility, and turned DOWN a British knighthood. Now, many of Conrad's works are nautical works. As I read the first pages and the talk of the wind and the sails, I immediately began to have heart palpitations. This wasn't going to be another Moby Dick, was it? I was panicked, but I kept moving on. Luckily, as Marlow (Conrad's alter ego, used in many of his stories) began weaving his yarn, I was treated to a nice story about terrible anguish, insanity and the depravity of the human condition. Because as much as Conrad's works are nautical, they are also psychological thrillers that dig into the meaning of humanity.
Heart of Darkness is viewed as the pinnacle of Conrad's work. It takes Marlow, a sailor, on a trip up the Congo River to meet a fellow agent named Kurtz. Along the way we see the world through Marlow's eyes, and feel the atrocities that he does. The sarcastic, sneering view of the colonialists, the pilgrims, is a view more vicious than many would have believed possible for his time period. Chinua Achebe, who is on my list for his book Things Fall Apart, claims that Conrad is remarkably racist throughout, dehumanizing black people. However, when I read it, I saw Conrad as being sympathetic to them, and while he did not see them as friends, he saw them as humans and equals. There was no claim of superiority, simply a difference between them.
For the class of the English, the assignment connected to Heart of Darkness was to compare it to either a series of poems, or Apocalypse Now. The latter, a film by Francis Ford Coppola, is a remarkably well-done adaptation that was at the time the most over budget film of all time. It connected visuals to some of the most chilling moments in the book, and turned it from a story about British colonialism, a fairly outdated topic, to American interventionalism, which continues to this day. Together, the two of them were simply shocking, and managed to reach to the core of the issues both times.
I love the smell of ivory in the morning...smells like crossovers.
8/10
First, a word about Joseph Conrad. Josef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski was a pretty rad dude. Born in the Russian Empire in what is now Ukraine, of Polish descent, dodged the Russian draft by going to France, had learned four languages before even beginning to learn English, and went sailing for about twenty years (including smuggling guns and drugs) before settling down to have a remarkably robust literary career. Basically, he's fairly kickass. And if you weren't already feeling bad, he had inherited Polish nobility, and turned DOWN a British knighthood. Now, many of Conrad's works are nautical works. As I read the first pages and the talk of the wind and the sails, I immediately began to have heart palpitations. This wasn't going to be another Moby Dick, was it? I was panicked, but I kept moving on. Luckily, as Marlow (Conrad's alter ego, used in many of his stories) began weaving his yarn, I was treated to a nice story about terrible anguish, insanity and the depravity of the human condition. Because as much as Conrad's works are nautical, they are also psychological thrillers that dig into the meaning of humanity.
Heart of Darkness is viewed as the pinnacle of Conrad's work. It takes Marlow, a sailor, on a trip up the Congo River to meet a fellow agent named Kurtz. Along the way we see the world through Marlow's eyes, and feel the atrocities that he does. The sarcastic, sneering view of the colonialists, the pilgrims, is a view more vicious than many would have believed possible for his time period. Chinua Achebe, who is on my list for his book Things Fall Apart, claims that Conrad is remarkably racist throughout, dehumanizing black people. However, when I read it, I saw Conrad as being sympathetic to them, and while he did not see them as friends, he saw them as humans and equals. There was no claim of superiority, simply a difference between them.
For the class of the English, the assignment connected to Heart of Darkness was to compare it to either a series of poems, or Apocalypse Now. The latter, a film by Francis Ford Coppola, is a remarkably well-done adaptation that was at the time the most over budget film of all time. It connected visuals to some of the most chilling moments in the book, and turned it from a story about British colonialism, a fairly outdated topic, to American interventionalism, which continues to this day. Together, the two of them were simply shocking, and managed to reach to the core of the issues both times.
I love the smell of ivory in the morning...smells like crossovers.
8/10
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
#7 - A Man For All Seasons
This post and the following two (Heart of Darkness and One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest) are being backdated considerably. I hemmed and hawed over whether or not these should be included on the list. I had included Duddy Kravitz from last year's English, so it seemed like I should. But I put it aside and let it coast, until I returned to the master list and realized that Heart of Darkness was on the list at number 42. This meant that if I were to ignore English books, I would have a dilemna. So the decision became to write the posts for all three of the English class books. I am still slogging through the Iliad, however the busiest time of the year (double play) and the rhyming-translated-19th-century-English-from-Latin-from-Greek is making it awfully hard.
Now, A Man For All Seasons, by Thomas Bolt. This play came along at the perfect time in my high school career. In History, we were discussing the Wars of the Roses, and Henry VIII. In Politics we were covering the basics of law created by Henry VIII, and in English we had AMFAS. Magically, all of my high school courses convened to teach me about the same time period at the same time, giving me a 360 degree perspective. It really was a neat effect. I only wish that we could have somehow had math pertain to the subject as well.
AMFAS was interesting in that it was a historical play. The characters were real, the situations were real. What was created was the image of Sir Thomas More as this hero of his own convictions, not kowtowing to the will of the land. It led to a caricaturing effect on all of the people, which lent itself to the play's heavy-handed messages. It thrived off of its simplicity. Land and water imagery was practically labelled and highlighted throughout, and each of the characters' intentions were cut and dried. It was a very "writable" work from an essay perspective, which was both nice and a little patronizing. You were smacked about the head with the thesis, instead of having it shown to you.
The story itself was thrilling. It was a case of the truth being stranger than fiction, as the royal intrigue of the Tudor dynasty reached dizzying heights, then came crashing down about More's ears. Cromwell played the quintessential villain, Roper played the world's first religious extremist, and Henry VII played a spoiled brat. The characters were almost commedia dell'arte in their simplicity, giving them a bold and pure edge. You knew who they were, and it allowed them to resonate all the better.
Writing an essay on this was child's play. If you chose to write on imagery, there need not be any memorization. Simply open the book to any page, and there will be a mention of it somewhere. Points must be given to Bolt for having the dedication to follow through on his extended metaphor for that long. If you chose instead to discuss character, I personally found that Roper was fantastic. His fanaticism and youthful exuberance for violence was remarkably familiar. It reminded me of stories of young teenagers being convinced of the powers of a cult or sect. He had that kind of glint in his eyes when you read his lines, and it was frightening to see.
Overall, this was a nice, simple book that still managed to carry strong opinions on topics such as conscience and personal conviction. I would love to see it on stage one day.
7/10
Now, A Man For All Seasons, by Thomas Bolt. This play came along at the perfect time in my high school career. In History, we were discussing the Wars of the Roses, and Henry VIII. In Politics we were covering the basics of law created by Henry VIII, and in English we had AMFAS. Magically, all of my high school courses convened to teach me about the same time period at the same time, giving me a 360 degree perspective. It really was a neat effect. I only wish that we could have somehow had math pertain to the subject as well.
AMFAS was interesting in that it was a historical play. The characters were real, the situations were real. What was created was the image of Sir Thomas More as this hero of his own convictions, not kowtowing to the will of the land. It led to a caricaturing effect on all of the people, which lent itself to the play's heavy-handed messages. It thrived off of its simplicity. Land and water imagery was practically labelled and highlighted throughout, and each of the characters' intentions were cut and dried. It was a very "writable" work from an essay perspective, which was both nice and a little patronizing. You were smacked about the head with the thesis, instead of having it shown to you.
The story itself was thrilling. It was a case of the truth being stranger than fiction, as the royal intrigue of the Tudor dynasty reached dizzying heights, then came crashing down about More's ears. Cromwell played the quintessential villain, Roper played the world's first religious extremist, and Henry VII played a spoiled brat. The characters were almost commedia dell'arte in their simplicity, giving them a bold and pure edge. You knew who they were, and it allowed them to resonate all the better.
Writing an essay on this was child's play. If you chose to write on imagery, there need not be any memorization. Simply open the book to any page, and there will be a mention of it somewhere. Points must be given to Bolt for having the dedication to follow through on his extended metaphor for that long. If you chose instead to discuss character, I personally found that Roper was fantastic. His fanaticism and youthful exuberance for violence was remarkably familiar. It reminded me of stories of young teenagers being convinced of the powers of a cult or sect. He had that kind of glint in his eyes when you read his lines, and it was frightening to see.
Overall, this was a nice, simple book that still managed to carry strong opinions on topics such as conscience and personal conviction. I would love to see it on stage one day.
7/10
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
#6 - Jane Eyre
Reader, do you know how insufferable it is to have an author who talks to you and coddles you as if you were an infantile yet eloquent peasant? I do, after having my reading darkened by my first experience with the Bronte family (No, I am not going to find the umlauted e, thank you for whining). Upon the reveal of my list to friends and family, the most common response was (after "This is stupid", of course) "Ooohh, Jane Eyre! I LOVE that book!" from a chorus of girls. This is because of what Jane Eyre represents. Coming in as the high water-mark of any female author on the list, it is a book that creates, defines, and canonizes chick lit and any versions of it hereafter. The back cover reads "the book heralded a new kind of heroine - one whose virtuous integrity, keen intellect and tireless perserverance broke through class barriers to win equal stature with the man she loved."
Everything up until this point leading me to fear and loathe this book, I looked forward to seeing how terrifying it truly was. What was there shocked me. For while there was the strong-willed woman asserting her role in an unjust society...she didn't, really. I mean, she took control of her own destiny, but then she relinquished it, then took control again, then repeated it time and again. She was less trying to burn her bra and try to vote then she was simply...bored. Filled with ennui in her various locations, she gets up and pushes on in fits of restlessness. She almost becomes a missionary in India in order to soothe this wild roaming instinct. Viewed from this perspective, some of her previous struggles take on a much more approachable light.
The romance of the story is really quite interesting. While the angst was horribly portrayed (tears are used as a 4-year old would use syrup on pancakes), the "Awww" moments are actually quite wonderful. The repartee, clearly MEANT to be the highlight due to the characters' personas, lives up to its expectations. Their banter is fierce, harsh, and the victories for each can be celebrated and enjoyed. There is, however, an interesting part missing. Nowhere in this book, anywhere at all, is the existence of any mention of sex. Understandably there would be less discussion based on the time period, but there is absolutely zero. No "take your new bride to bed, eh?" no misbehaving servants to provide contrast. There are embraces and kisses, at the most extreme. This is not to say we cannot speculate about Miss Eyre's preferences however: "For caresses, too, I now got grimaces; for a pressure of the hand, a pinch on the arm; for a kiss on the cheek, a severe tweak of the ear. It was all right, at this moment I decidedly preferred these fierce favours to anything more tender." As I read this, I was halted. I thought about this in connection with other quotes that had given me pause, and came to the same conclusion. Jane Eyre likes it rough. She is a tease who likes to be taken control of out of passion. Now, I don't know what those Bronte sisters talked about at the breakfast table after reading that part, but it must have been a long moment for Charlotte.
There were some assorted highlights and lowlights throughout. The section of Jane starving for three days in the wilderness was choppy and ill-written. However, the early period of her living at Morton House is a nice cheery interlude. The penultimate chapter angered me greatly. It was enough to know that she did come back, but they go into intricate detail exactly why and who was dependant on who and how much pity was involved, and it took all of the glory out of the return, and almost dampened the happy ending. Also, a new find in any of my books from this era, etcetera was presented as &c., which amused me to no end. In the end, read as it is meant to be read, I don't believe it succeeds. However, there are aspects and portions (the second half beats the first in my opinion) that do shine.
6/10 - I GUESS it was good...for a woman. ;)
Everything up until this point leading me to fear and loathe this book, I looked forward to seeing how terrifying it truly was. What was there shocked me. For while there was the strong-willed woman asserting her role in an unjust society...she didn't, really. I mean, she took control of her own destiny, but then she relinquished it, then took control again, then repeated it time and again. She was less trying to burn her bra and try to vote then she was simply...bored. Filled with ennui in her various locations, she gets up and pushes on in fits of restlessness. She almost becomes a missionary in India in order to soothe this wild roaming instinct. Viewed from this perspective, some of her previous struggles take on a much more approachable light.
The romance of the story is really quite interesting. While the angst was horribly portrayed (tears are used as a 4-year old would use syrup on pancakes), the "Awww" moments are actually quite wonderful. The repartee, clearly MEANT to be the highlight due to the characters' personas, lives up to its expectations. Their banter is fierce, harsh, and the victories for each can be celebrated and enjoyed. There is, however, an interesting part missing. Nowhere in this book, anywhere at all, is the existence of any mention of sex. Understandably there would be less discussion based on the time period, but there is absolutely zero. No "take your new bride to bed, eh?" no misbehaving servants to provide contrast. There are embraces and kisses, at the most extreme. This is not to say we cannot speculate about Miss Eyre's preferences however: "For caresses, too, I now got grimaces; for a pressure of the hand, a pinch on the arm; for a kiss on the cheek, a severe tweak of the ear. It was all right, at this moment I decidedly preferred these fierce favours to anything more tender." As I read this, I was halted. I thought about this in connection with other quotes that had given me pause, and came to the same conclusion. Jane Eyre likes it rough. She is a tease who likes to be taken control of out of passion. Now, I don't know what those Bronte sisters talked about at the breakfast table after reading that part, but it must have been a long moment for Charlotte.
There were some assorted highlights and lowlights throughout. The section of Jane starving for three days in the wilderness was choppy and ill-written. However, the early period of her living at Morton House is a nice cheery interlude. The penultimate chapter angered me greatly. It was enough to know that she did come back, but they go into intricate detail exactly why and who was dependant on who and how much pity was involved, and it took all of the glory out of the return, and almost dampened the happy ending. Also, a new find in any of my books from this era, etcetera was presented as &c., which amused me to no end. In the end, read as it is meant to be read, I don't believe it succeeds. However, there are aspects and portions (the second half beats the first in my opinion) that do shine.
6/10 - I GUESS it was good...for a woman. ;)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
#5 - Don Quixote
First, an explanation. There has been a very long hiatus since my last post, and that's because there has been a very long hiatus since my last book being completed. It's not to say I haven't been working on it. It is, however, to say that it has been a long and arduous haul to complete it. 2 weeks to find a copy at a library. 2 weeks in Europe just as I'm about to get started. 2 more weeks to resecure that copy. 2 weeks of exams. Then I leave for summer camp, and in a fit of desperation actually buy a 30-dollar copy of the book. 10 weeks at summer camp pass by with nary a moment to spend on sleep, let alone leisurely reading. Back to school, and finished off in a final fortnight.
I suppose in a way that the attempt to complete this book was quixotic, much as this entire reading list is. The books are slow, the goal could be easily acheived through more efficient means, but in a burst of principles and resolve, the harder, more glorious road was taken. There is one notable difference between my reading and Don Quixote. Don Quixote was capital C Crazy. An absolute loon 'til the last, his adventures were conjured in the sight of every person, every building and every animal he passed by. This in turn led to over a hundred adventures, each more hare-brained and hysterical than the last. This is why the slowness of my reading should and could not be held against the book. While a whopping 940 pages, it is vibrant and upbeat, allowing for quick reading through its many adventures. Filled with many speeches and stories, and a few "interpolated novels", it kept moving right along, entertaining at every turn.
What's more is the psychoanalysis behind why Don Quixote went nuts. He was, to think of it in modern terms, a fanboy. He read hundreds of books of chivalry (Amadis de Gaul was his favourite) and considered them all 100% true works of history. He went beyond knowing the fanon of the books, he considered them the canon of the world's Golden Age, where dragons and damsels really do exist. His goal when he sets out is to revive the noble profession of knight errantry, and in so doing revive the Golden Age and go down as one of the greatest knights to ever live. In a strange way, he does reach his goal. He fights lions and saves damsels, and helps some people (even ones who need no help) from terrible things. The story grows in your hands, and builds to crescendo after crescendo.
But beyond just the book itself, already a masterpiece, there was the overarching self-awareness that Miguel Saavedra de Cervantes has pushed into the book. The layers of story told by historian told by translator told by author creates in it a sort of discussion at the start of each chapter, giving opinions and theories upon its contents. Then there is the start of the second part. Between the two parts of Don Quixote there was a decade in which the book gained popularity, creating fake sequels and spinoffs and the like. So in the beginning of the second part, he goes to great lengths (using his characters as his proxies) to deconstruct the myths purported by the other versions, to correct continuity errors in his own first version, and to review the success of the first version. Let me say it again: The CHARACTERS OF THE BOOK talked about the success OF THEIR STORY. This is not taking down the fourth wall. This is kidney punching the fourth wall repeatedly.
Don Quixote not only lived up to all of the hype of being the first modern novel and transcending books to another echelon of greatness, it surpassed it. I was floored repeatedly by the beauty and majesty of the writing and the story, and it truly changed the way I write. So with great aplomb and gross amounts of ceremony, I will give Don Quixote my first:
10/10
I suppose in a way that the attempt to complete this book was quixotic, much as this entire reading list is. The books are slow, the goal could be easily acheived through more efficient means, but in a burst of principles and resolve, the harder, more glorious road was taken. There is one notable difference between my reading and Don Quixote. Don Quixote was capital C Crazy. An absolute loon 'til the last, his adventures were conjured in the sight of every person, every building and every animal he passed by. This in turn led to over a hundred adventures, each more hare-brained and hysterical than the last. This is why the slowness of my reading should and could not be held against the book. While a whopping 940 pages, it is vibrant and upbeat, allowing for quick reading through its many adventures. Filled with many speeches and stories, and a few "interpolated novels", it kept moving right along, entertaining at every turn.
What's more is the psychoanalysis behind why Don Quixote went nuts. He was, to think of it in modern terms, a fanboy. He read hundreds of books of chivalry (Amadis de Gaul was his favourite) and considered them all 100% true works of history. He went beyond knowing the fanon of the books, he considered them the canon of the world's Golden Age, where dragons and damsels really do exist. His goal when he sets out is to revive the noble profession of knight errantry, and in so doing revive the Golden Age and go down as one of the greatest knights to ever live. In a strange way, he does reach his goal. He fights lions and saves damsels, and helps some people (even ones who need no help) from terrible things. The story grows in your hands, and builds to crescendo after crescendo.
But beyond just the book itself, already a masterpiece, there was the overarching self-awareness that Miguel Saavedra de Cervantes has pushed into the book. The layers of story told by historian told by translator told by author creates in it a sort of discussion at the start of each chapter, giving opinions and theories upon its contents. Then there is the start of the second part. Between the two parts of Don Quixote there was a decade in which the book gained popularity, creating fake sequels and spinoffs and the like. So in the beginning of the second part, he goes to great lengths (using his characters as his proxies) to deconstruct the myths purported by the other versions, to correct continuity errors in his own first version, and to review the success of the first version. Let me say it again: The CHARACTERS OF THE BOOK talked about the success OF THEIR STORY. This is not taking down the fourth wall. This is kidney punching the fourth wall repeatedly.
Don Quixote not only lived up to all of the hype of being the first modern novel and transcending books to another echelon of greatness, it surpassed it. I was floored repeatedly by the beauty and majesty of the writing and the story, and it truly changed the way I write. So with great aplomb and gross amounts of ceremony, I will give Don Quixote my first:
10/10
Sunday, April 25, 2010
#4 - The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz
Duddy Kravitz is the first book I've read that has not been on the list. It was a pick for an English project on a "Canadian author". I first jumped for Margaret Atwood, the Reach for the Top staple (and the fill-in answer for any unknown guess), but she was snagged by a wily Grade 10. So I went with my second pick of Mordecai Richler.
If you're one of those people who are "in the know" (and by in the know, I mean you still watch Disney Channel daily), Mordecai Richler is well known for his series of children's literature, the Jacob Two-Two books. It turns out he also writes real literature, with a distinctly differeny slant. And that slant is...
Jewish. Oy gevalt, is this book seeping with Semitism. The dialogue runs just like a Saturday Night Live sketch featuring two old Jewish men, except that counts for every last character in the book! The rhetorial questions (What is this, an inquisition? Would it hurt to be more relaxed?), the random bursts of Yiddish, and the money grubbing - OH the money grubbing. Every stereotype you can imagine is reinforced and reproven.
Duddy Kravitz is a wonderful character. Having a look at my list, the first 6 books are all character studies. Oedipus "The King", "Call Me" Ishmael, Jay Gatsby, Duddy Kravitz, Don Quixote, and Jane Eyre. The two most similar are Gatsby and Kravitz. They're both seemingly "BTO"s, they have some dangerous amounts of hubris, and they both (almost) have a noble goal in mind. But Kravitz does it in a way that can only be seen as a workhorse idealism. Gatsby sits and imagines the world where you can have the good life. Kravitz is out there bustling around to make it happen. You root for him every time he gets an impossible deadline, have that sense of "will he, will he?" and every time he does.
Which is what makes his fall from grace so much harder to bear. For although he is making this dream happen, and in perspective it's an amazing feat, he just slowly loses focus and drifts down. Even in his final success it is bitter-sweet beyond belief, and even the faint hope given back to us is no respite.
The book was a modern one (finally) with a rapid plot and a lovely theme. Each character WAS a character, and although he didn't have the imagery and precision of Melville or Fitzgerald, he rings true just the same.
9/10
If you're one of those people who are "in the know" (and by in the know, I mean you still watch Disney Channel daily), Mordecai Richler is well known for his series of children's literature, the Jacob Two-Two books. It turns out he also writes real literature, with a distinctly differeny slant. And that slant is...
Jewish. Oy gevalt, is this book seeping with Semitism. The dialogue runs just like a Saturday Night Live sketch featuring two old Jewish men, except that counts for every last character in the book! The rhetorial questions (What is this, an inquisition? Would it hurt to be more relaxed?), the random bursts of Yiddish, and the money grubbing - OH the money grubbing. Every stereotype you can imagine is reinforced and reproven.
Duddy Kravitz is a wonderful character. Having a look at my list, the first 6 books are all character studies. Oedipus "The King", "Call Me" Ishmael, Jay Gatsby, Duddy Kravitz, Don Quixote, and Jane Eyre. The two most similar are Gatsby and Kravitz. They're both seemingly "BTO"s, they have some dangerous amounts of hubris, and they both (almost) have a noble goal in mind. But Kravitz does it in a way that can only be seen as a workhorse idealism. Gatsby sits and imagines the world where you can have the good life. Kravitz is out there bustling around to make it happen. You root for him every time he gets an impossible deadline, have that sense of "will he, will he?" and every time he does.
Which is what makes his fall from grace so much harder to bear. For although he is making this dream happen, and in perspective it's an amazing feat, he just slowly loses focus and drifts down. Even in his final success it is bitter-sweet beyond belief, and even the faint hope given back to us is no respite.
The book was a modern one (finally) with a rapid plot and a lovely theme. Each character WAS a character, and although he didn't have the imagery and precision of Melville or Fitzgerald, he rings true just the same.
9/10
Saturday, April 24, 2010
#3 - The Great Gatsby
This was my first side-trip from the direct list. I had originally planned to go straight through the list in order, as a way of appeasing my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Alas, this was not to be and I have taken on multiple side projects as a result.
First, there is the OCDSB's request that I be educated. To satisfy them, I must read and report on some books of their choosing. Luckily, theirs are mostly on the list as it is. This year it was Great Gatsby (and possibly another), next year might be Heart of Darkness or another of the teacher's choosing. The next book I am reading, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz by Mordechai Richler, is also for school.
The second distraction (yes, I'm calling it a distraction) from the appointed task is my friend Amy. Upon telling her about the idea she looked over the list and decided that it was missing things. She also thought that if I were to start reading "real books" as she called them, then I should be reading her favourites. So once every 8 books off of the main list, I will depart to read one of hers. These will have a poetry and a modern slant, but we all love her anyways. The first is actually on the list: Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Now, Great Gatsby. In class we watched a documentary on Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, the writer. They tried their best to portray him as a loving husband, a workhorse of a man. I saw things slightly differently. He was so engrossed with the idea of fame, of making a legacy, that he was driven to madness at various times. Incessant revision of his work, frantic drinking, these are all signs of a truly disturbed man. The only things positive I can see stemming from his writing is that it took him away from starting a dictatorship, and this book The Great Gatsby.
The Great Gatsby is the polar opposite of Moby Dick. It reads quickly, keeps to the plot and leaves no unneccessary words. If Moby Dick was a sumo wrestler, Great Gatsby was a sprinter. The book is just what it needs to make the point, and nothing more. You had to read every word, because every word was important. Therein lies one of my few problems with it. Everything had a meaning. The green light, the pink clouds, Dr. Ecklesburg in the sky! Some of the things really don't make sense at first glance. I'm thankful for once to have some English class guidance to explain the symbolism, because a couple of the bits seem like absolute nonsense, even though you know they aren't.
The book is interesting on a different level. People talk of Gatsby defining the Jazz Age. But he seems to be unsure whether or not to glorify it or tear it down. His glittering descriptions of the parties are tainted with the faintest bit of ennui, and you're left feeling not excited for the participants, but a little bit sad for them. I make the connection to the frat parties at today's universities. It may LOOK like they are having fun, but eventually the hangover will hit. And a decade-long hangover seems a bit painful to deal with.
The book was fun though, and it won't be a pain to go back and look over the book time and again for class, as each page greets you with a gentle "old sport" pat on the back.
8/10
First, there is the OCDSB's request that I be educated. To satisfy them, I must read and report on some books of their choosing. Luckily, theirs are mostly on the list as it is. This year it was Great Gatsby (and possibly another), next year might be Heart of Darkness or another of the teacher's choosing. The next book I am reading, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz by Mordechai Richler, is also for school.
The second distraction (yes, I'm calling it a distraction) from the appointed task is my friend Amy. Upon telling her about the idea she looked over the list and decided that it was missing things. She also thought that if I were to start reading "real books" as she called them, then I should be reading her favourites. So once every 8 books off of the main list, I will depart to read one of hers. These will have a poetry and a modern slant, but we all love her anyways. The first is actually on the list: Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Now, Great Gatsby. In class we watched a documentary on Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, the writer. They tried their best to portray him as a loving husband, a workhorse of a man. I saw things slightly differently. He was so engrossed with the idea of fame, of making a legacy, that he was driven to madness at various times. Incessant revision of his work, frantic drinking, these are all signs of a truly disturbed man. The only things positive I can see stemming from his writing is that it took him away from starting a dictatorship, and this book The Great Gatsby.
The Great Gatsby is the polar opposite of Moby Dick. It reads quickly, keeps to the plot and leaves no unneccessary words. If Moby Dick was a sumo wrestler, Great Gatsby was a sprinter. The book is just what it needs to make the point, and nothing more. You had to read every word, because every word was important. Therein lies one of my few problems with it. Everything had a meaning. The green light, the pink clouds, Dr. Ecklesburg in the sky! Some of the things really don't make sense at first glance. I'm thankful for once to have some English class guidance to explain the symbolism, because a couple of the bits seem like absolute nonsense, even though you know they aren't.
The book is interesting on a different level. People talk of Gatsby defining the Jazz Age. But he seems to be unsure whether or not to glorify it or tear it down. His glittering descriptions of the parties are tainted with the faintest bit of ennui, and you're left feeling not excited for the participants, but a little bit sad for them. I make the connection to the frat parties at today's universities. It may LOOK like they are having fun, but eventually the hangover will hit. And a decade-long hangover seems a bit painful to deal with.
The book was fun though, and it won't be a pain to go back and look over the book time and again for class, as each page greets you with a gentle "old sport" pat on the back.
8/10
#2 - Moby Dick
Well, isn't this one a whole different kettle of fish? (I make no promises as to how many fish/whale puns I make during this post) When I took this one out of the library, it gave me a shiver. This book is spoken of, not with reverence, but with fear and venomous distrust. There are some people who do not like this book.
I am one of those people.
This book is a beautifully written, complex tapestry of words and stories and characters and plots and themes and history and geography and cetology and - IT IS TOO MUCH. This book is simply too large for its meaning. It goes on and on with no goal but to dredge some more imagery out of every last item on the great wide ocean. There is not a thing not addressed, not a stone left unturned. It is boring as all hell. I honestly could care less about the architecture of the awnings in Nantucket. Get on that boat and shoot some whales!
The book weighs in at 469 pages, with 135 chapters. That means that some of the chapters are less than a page, and some of the chapters are of proper length. But this allowed Melville (who, coincidentally, was rumoured to have been paid by the word, which explains his painful verbosity) to turn each chapter into an essay on a completely different topic. If I went back and counted (which I won't, because I do not want to touch the filthy book again), I would assume that barely half of the chapters are actually used to further the plot.
In the interest of full transparency, I skipped a few of the 135 chapters. The first two I skipped were Chapters 9 and 32. Chapter 9 is called The Sermon, and it is exactly that. Father Mapple's 6-page sermon (a friend and I estimated it to be a 25-minute filibuster) on the story of Jonah and the whale. Chapter 32 was Ishmael's personal theory on the taxonomy of whales. Ishmael, in a thrilling conclusion, deems whales to not be mammals, but fish, and then proceeds to define their species in a way that can best be described as...wrong. He creates species, pushes species where they do not belong, and declares such whales as the Blue Whale as "fictional". This again came in at around 6 pages of utter nonsense, which did nothing to advance the plot. I tried my best to read every chapter. I finished the one on the history of mast-heads, in the first low-point of my reading.
As a last point, there was still a good 30 more pages left. What were they used for? Endnotes. A good 500 of them. You see, to make the book OOZE sophistication, Melville name-dropped worse than Kevin Federline. The effect was to make the book thoroughly incomprehensible unless you had bachelor's degrees in History, Geography, Literature, and Religion. Of course, you had to have recieved these degrees in 1850, because half of the references are now out of date entirely.
After slogging through this torture for almost a week, I declared one night that I would not spend another morning waking up to this book. So I started on Chapter 45 that night and pushed all the way through to 2 AM and page 470. Never again.
3/10
I am one of those people.
This book is a beautifully written, complex tapestry of words and stories and characters and plots and themes and history and geography and cetology and - IT IS TOO MUCH. This book is simply too large for its meaning. It goes on and on with no goal but to dredge some more imagery out of every last item on the great wide ocean. There is not a thing not addressed, not a stone left unturned. It is boring as all hell. I honestly could care less about the architecture of the awnings in Nantucket. Get on that boat and shoot some whales!
The book weighs in at 469 pages, with 135 chapters. That means that some of the chapters are less than a page, and some of the chapters are of proper length. But this allowed Melville (who, coincidentally, was rumoured to have been paid by the word, which explains his painful verbosity) to turn each chapter into an essay on a completely different topic. If I went back and counted (which I won't, because I do not want to touch the filthy book again), I would assume that barely half of the chapters are actually used to further the plot.
In the interest of full transparency, I skipped a few of the 135 chapters. The first two I skipped were Chapters 9 and 32. Chapter 9 is called The Sermon, and it is exactly that. Father Mapple's 6-page sermon (a friend and I estimated it to be a 25-minute filibuster) on the story of Jonah and the whale. Chapter 32 was Ishmael's personal theory on the taxonomy of whales. Ishmael, in a thrilling conclusion, deems whales to not be mammals, but fish, and then proceeds to define their species in a way that can best be described as...wrong. He creates species, pushes species where they do not belong, and declares such whales as the Blue Whale as "fictional". This again came in at around 6 pages of utter nonsense, which did nothing to advance the plot. I tried my best to read every chapter. I finished the one on the history of mast-heads, in the first low-point of my reading.
As a last point, there was still a good 30 more pages left. What were they used for? Endnotes. A good 500 of them. You see, to make the book OOZE sophistication, Melville name-dropped worse than Kevin Federline. The effect was to make the book thoroughly incomprehensible unless you had bachelor's degrees in History, Geography, Literature, and Religion. Of course, you had to have recieved these degrees in 1850, because half of the references are now out of date entirely.
After slogging through this torture for almost a week, I declared one night that I would not spend another morning waking up to this book. So I started on Chapter 45 that night and pushed all the way through to 2 AM and page 470. Never again.
3/10
Friday, April 23, 2010
#1 - Oedipus Rex
First book. Wow. I went to the library for the first time in ages, in a rush after setting my heart on this goal. I grabbed as many of the first 5 books on my list as I could, and hurried back home. The first one was this: Oedipus Rex by Sophocles.
The first blindside came before I even checked the book out. It was a trilogy! Oedipus the King, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone. Antigone? Hold on a moment. Wasn't Antigone already on my list somewhere else? I scanned ahead and there it was, number 54. It took me until a couple of days after I read it to make the connection to some vague Greek I had in my head - "rex" means king. Oedipus Rex was only referring to the first of the trilogy. Apparently Oedipus at Colonus was the only one undeserving of a place on the list, which I thought rather unfair.
So instead I read them as one solid work, and I believe that was a good idea. They are a complete unit, as many works of the Greek tragedies are. They tell the story of a famous family over multiple generations and multiple time periods. This had to be done because according to the Greek dramatic laws, time had to be real. There was no quantum leaps, no changing of setting.
The next interesting thing was that the book was not subtle. The big plot twist was clean as day. Perhaps it is because I have a CSI-trained mind, but the prophecies seemed so obvious that I was surprised that Oedipus himself did not see it. Then I realized that the entire audience also knew the plot in advance. There was no tricking these wily Greeks. That left Sophocles to just write good words, and that he did. There was humour, irony, flowery language. A nice trick was the way that the chorus simply recaps the events, in more verbose stylings.
The Greeks really knew how to make a tragedy tragic. If they were to make a "Dumbledore dies on page 647" shirt for Oedipus, they would need to use a smaller font. Everyone dies, and the more gruesome the better. However, again as a Greek theatre law, all of the violence is left off-stage. It provides a nice bit of suspense because whenever a messenger comes in, you know that SOMEBODY is about to hear some bad news.
On the whole, this was the perfect start to this adventure. There is nothing more classic than the Greeks, and all in all it was an easy read, with only around 6000 lines of text. I enjoyed the book wholly, and while I doubt I'll read it again, it felt like it took up a little niche in my empty brain-space.
8/10
(Note: While I am loathe to make a marking system for this, I feel like a reviewer, and my opinions may fluctuate from day to day, so I must do as I see fit.)
The first blindside came before I even checked the book out. It was a trilogy! Oedipus the King, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone. Antigone? Hold on a moment. Wasn't Antigone already on my list somewhere else? I scanned ahead and there it was, number 54. It took me until a couple of days after I read it to make the connection to some vague Greek I had in my head - "rex" means king. Oedipus Rex was only referring to the first of the trilogy. Apparently Oedipus at Colonus was the only one undeserving of a place on the list, which I thought rather unfair.
So instead I read them as one solid work, and I believe that was a good idea. They are a complete unit, as many works of the Greek tragedies are. They tell the story of a famous family over multiple generations and multiple time periods. This had to be done because according to the Greek dramatic laws, time had to be real. There was no quantum leaps, no changing of setting.
The next interesting thing was that the book was not subtle. The big plot twist was clean as day. Perhaps it is because I have a CSI-trained mind, but the prophecies seemed so obvious that I was surprised that Oedipus himself did not see it. Then I realized that the entire audience also knew the plot in advance. There was no tricking these wily Greeks. That left Sophocles to just write good words, and that he did. There was humour, irony, flowery language. A nice trick was the way that the chorus simply recaps the events, in more verbose stylings.
The Greeks really knew how to make a tragedy tragic. If they were to make a "Dumbledore dies on page 647" shirt for Oedipus, they would need to use a smaller font. Everyone dies, and the more gruesome the better. However, again as a Greek theatre law, all of the violence is left off-stage. It provides a nice bit of suspense because whenever a messenger comes in, you know that SOMEBODY is about to hear some bad news.
On the whole, this was the perfect start to this adventure. There is nothing more classic than the Greeks, and all in all it was an easy read, with only around 6000 lines of text. I enjoyed the book wholly, and while I doubt I'll read it again, it felt like it took up a little niche in my empty brain-space.
8/10
(Note: While I am loathe to make a marking system for this, I feel like a reviewer, and my opinions may fluctuate from day to day, so I must do as I see fit.)
"Can't You Just Read The Wikipedia Article?"
I cannot believe how many times I have heard those words. It has been a fortnight since I started this project, and it has to have been said by at least as many people as there have been days. To sum up, yes. I could read the Cliffs Notes, SparkNotes, Wikipedia page, get a lecture, read the graphic novel, watch the movie, or do something else. But to do that would miss half the point of everything.
The reason I started on this is because I wanted to improve my abilities for my high school trivia team. We are sorely lacking anybody on the team with, how would you say, culture. I, being the one who does theatre, seems to be the only one in the general vicinity. So, I decided to start on a quest. Read the top 100 most-used books for trivia questions, top to bottom, through and through.
This appeals to me in a number of ways. First, I'm an avid fan of books by A.J. Jacobs, who has been making a career out of stunts like following the Bible to the letter, reading the Encyclopedia Brittanica A-Z and outsourcing his life to India. Second, I have always wanted to read more literature. I have a solid range of pop culture knowledge, stemming from my parents. I know Dirty Dancing from Breakfast Club, and I can connect a quote to a movie better than many. But real books, real literature, had started to fade away.
So this seemed like the perfect solution. I have a reason to do it: help the team, get better at trivia. It also builds me as a person: learn something, become more cultured. And it's because of that that just reading the Wikipedia article simply will not do. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it to its fullest extent. No abrdiged versions, no pop-up books. I'm not going to read Crime and Punishment in the original Russian, but as much as possible I am going to try and get the books straight from the source.
Here is where I am going to log my thoughts on each book. My preliminary list is 80 books long, and it should continue growing all the time. I would hate to forget a single thing I've dredged out of this, so I'm going to pour it all out here. Wish me luck.
The reason I started on this is because I wanted to improve my abilities for my high school trivia team. We are sorely lacking anybody on the team with, how would you say, culture. I, being the one who does theatre, seems to be the only one in the general vicinity. So, I decided to start on a quest. Read the top 100 most-used books for trivia questions, top to bottom, through and through.
This appeals to me in a number of ways. First, I'm an avid fan of books by A.J. Jacobs, who has been making a career out of stunts like following the Bible to the letter, reading the Encyclopedia Brittanica A-Z and outsourcing his life to India. Second, I have always wanted to read more literature. I have a solid range of pop culture knowledge, stemming from my parents. I know Dirty Dancing from Breakfast Club, and I can connect a quote to a movie better than many. But real books, real literature, had started to fade away.
So this seemed like the perfect solution. I have a reason to do it: help the team, get better at trivia. It also builds me as a person: learn something, become more cultured. And it's because of that that just reading the Wikipedia article simply will not do. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it to its fullest extent. No abrdiged versions, no pop-up books. I'm not going to read Crime and Punishment in the original Russian, but as much as possible I am going to try and get the books straight from the source.
Here is where I am going to log my thoughts on each book. My preliminary list is 80 books long, and it should continue growing all the time. I would hate to forget a single thing I've dredged out of this, so I'm going to pour it all out here. Wish me luck.
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