Book blogging (mostly)
Archive for March, 2010
The Graveyard Book (audio)
Mar 25th
I have a weird relationship with Neil Gaiman’s books. His stories always fascinate me conceptually, but upon reading them, I’m inevitably underwhelmed. That isn’t to say his books are bad, just not as great as I hope they will be upon reading a plot summary.
The Graveyard Book suffers this same small letdown. The idea – a young boy, orphaned after the brutal murder of his family, is raised by the ghosts that inhabit a nearby graveyard – is pretty awesome. The execution, while still very entertaining and enjoyable, is just enough less awesome to be disappointing. Maybe I expect too much from Gaiman, but if that’s the case it’s his own fault for having such awesome ideas.
The best part about The Graveyard Book is how it celebrates life through the constant presence of death. This theme emerges so naturally from the content of the book that it doesn’t ever feel cliche or preachy. Gaiman also ties everything together nicely in the end. Unfortunately, there are too many parts that drag along the way to make it excellent from beginning to end.
On the whole this a good book and, if you choose to go with the audio version, I think you will be pleasantly surprised by Gaiman’s skill as a narrator. In spite of my own weird disappointment, I don’t have a problem recommending this. It’s not Gaiman’s best (Neverwhere, Stardust), but it’s far from his worst (Good Omens).
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Mar 17th
I’ve read a lot of books in the last 2 years (43 – 120 if you including audio books, but who’s counting?), and I’ve enjoyed the vast majority. Part of this is because I enjoy the very experience of reading, so for most books I can find some aspect of it that I enjoy.
Some books are funny (Areas of My Expertise), some are sad (Firmin), and some are both (I Am a Cat). Some are weird (Wind-Up Bird Chronicle), some fun (Fablehaven, Percy Jackson and the Olympians) and some are, apparently, only for me (Botchan – sorry Nicole). I’ve enjoyed all of these, and I recommend them for various reasons and to various people.
There are some, however, that are so good that it’s hard to even discuss them. I love to read, and I enjoy talking about books, but how do you discuss a great book if you aren’t a great writer? How do I fit into a blog post or database entry the scope, the characters, or the beauty of East of Eden? How do I explain the moving, subtle, and amazing experience of reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close? Do I give you a brief overview of the plot? Or discuss the clarity and reality of the 9 year old narrator, Oskar Schell? Would these kinds of facts make you more likely to read this book? Because, trust me, you should want to read this book.
I wish I were exaggerating, but I’m honestly not. 2010 is going to have its work cut out for it to send another book my way that will be as good as this one. I don’t think I can say this is my favorite book of all time (I’ve only read it once, after all), but it gives me the same feeling I remember having the first time I read other books that do top of my list of all time favorites – Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, East of Eden, Ender’s Game, The Catcher in the Rye.
There’s just something about truly great books that changes not only the way you look at other books, but the way you look at everything. If you haven’t read this yet, please add it to your to-read list. And if you have, please gush with me in the comments.
“I didn’t want to hear about death. It was all anyone talked about, even when no one was actually talking about it” (295).
Full database entry on Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Beware Spoilers.
Dubliners
Mar 12th
It is clear from Dubliners why James Joyce is so highly regarded. The most impressive thing, for me, was his ability to capture so much emotion, so realistically, in so few pages. Without feeling forced, or cliched, he would perfectly express anger, jealousy, fear, or love. I also enjoyed how these short stories each had their own unique voice. It wasn’t one narrator telling 15 different tales, but 15 different narrators, each telling their own story in a style perfectly suited for their respective themes, characters, and plot.
All of this becomes even more impressive when we consider Joyce was only 25 when these stories were first published. If you enjoy short stories, I would definitely recommend this collection. For the rest of us, though, I think there is still a lot to like about these tales. Plus, what with them being so short, you don’t have to read them all at once and, taken individually, there’s no reason not to give each of these stories the mere 10 to 30 minutes that they require.
“He watched the scene and thought of life; and (as always happened when he thought of life) he became sad. A gentle melancholy took possession of him. He felt how useless it was to struggle against fortune, this being the burden of wisdom which the ages had bequeathed to him” (66).
Full database entry on Dubliners. Beware spoilers.
The rest of this post is a more general discussion on short stories and reading for depth, so if all you were interested in was Dubliners, no need to keep reading. Otherwise….
I’m not sure if I “get” short stories. Granted, my experience with them is limited (all I can remember right now is a few Poe stories and Philip K. Dick’s The Minority Report and Other Classic Stories), but there is a certain rhythm to them that doesn’t come naturally to me. I think this is a combination of not giving each story the same consideration I would a full novel (I will typically move on to the next story without meditating on the first) and the fact that many short stories end without the sense of resolution or satisfaction that you get from a full novel (and this doesn’t even consider the tendency many short stories have towards the “gotcha” ending).
In spite of all this, however, I chose to read Dubliners for two reasons: I knew that, being written by Joyce, there was going to be a lot of depth to the writing, and I felt that short stories would offer a smaller, more manageable opportunity to put to use the tools I discovered in How to Read Literature. On the whole, I think the endeavor was mildly successful. I say only mildly because, while I was able to read in a slightly more professorial manner, I also find myself not always wanting to.
For me reading is a pleasurable hobby, and I don’t want that to change. However, the more I considered the multiple layers of meaning that may be present within the text, the less I found myself enjoying the experience of reading. With all that said I’ve decided that, going forward, my main concern will be enjoying what I’m reading, with or without the tools of professorial reading. Then, if I loved what I read, I can take the time to meditate further upon the text and pursue essays and literary criticisms on specific subjects that interest me. This combination, I think, will allow me to still enjoy reading, while also improving my ability to read at a deeper level. In theory, at least.
First Line: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Mar 9th
I want to do something a little different with this First Line. In the last 3, I chose books that I read previously and so in each case I was familiar with where the books were going. If, however, I’m to take my claim that the first line of a book is important seriously, then I should give serious thought to the first line of a book the first time I read it. So that’s what I’m doing with Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I don’t know anything about this book. I haven’t read the back of it, no one has described the plot to me, nothing. All I know is that it starts with the following:
“What about a teakettle?”
Huh? Or, in the words of the opening chapter “What the?” This isn’t a lot to go from, but it’s not impossible to make a few wild guesses. To start, it gives me the impression that this is going to be an odd book. After all, it did just start itself asking if a teakettle is more appropriate. Than what? Who knows. For what? No clue. I am looking forward to finding out what, though, and that’s definitely a good sign.
It also makes me think this is going to be a more intimate book. In other words, I can see this being a book where the story is shared with me, like a good friend telling me what happened to them, as opposed to some distant omniscient narrator relating historic events. I love when books are written like this, too, so if this guess is accurate I’m very excited to continue reading. As a matter of fact, teasing myself with the first line in this way is making me want to read this book even more.
What are your guesses for what this book will be like, those of you who haven’t read it? And if you have, feel free to post vague, knowing comments like “Interesting…” or “Aren’t you in for a treat!”.
So why does Harry Potter have a scar?
Mar 4th
Note: the following discussion spoils certain aspects of the entire Harry Potter series. Please don’t keep reading if you don’t already know what happens, unless you don’t mind having it spoiled.
There is a chapter in How to Read Literature Like a Professor called “Marked for Greatness” that discusses how heroic, important characters are literally marked for greatness. Several examples are given, but at the end the author asks why does Harry Potter have a scar? What does this scar represent beyond the fact that Voldemort tried to kill Harry after murdering his parents? I’ve thought about this over the last week and I have some ideas I’d like to share.
There is, of course, the obvious meaning evident upon a surface reason – the scar is the physical reminder of Voldemort’s failed attempt to murder Harry. Beyond that, at a slightly deeper level, the mark also reveals the connection between Voldemort and Harry. We eventually learn that this connection is so strong that Voldemort is literally a part of Harry.
All of this makes sense, and is fairly evident in the text itself. However, the question of why Harry Potter has a scar is still not really answered. After all, any mark could have been meant to represent these things – Harry’s hair could have turned white as a result of his early battle with Voldemort, or maybe he could speak parsletongue just like Voldemort. Oh wait..
So why a scar? What is it about a scar specifically that holds meaning beyond these other marks? I think the difference centers on how we get scars. A scar is, always, the result of some action. There is a direct cause and effect relationship when it comes to scars: This scar is from when I fell out of a tree; this one is from when I was stabbed during a visit to Philadelphia. Though these acts cannot always be avoided or controlled, they can be clearly identified, and quite often are the direct result of some choice. Thus, I think it is this idea that “choices and actions lead to consequences” is central to Rowling’s choice of a scar.
If that’s the case, then we should expect to see this theme carried throughout the text, which I believe we do. For example, Voldemort hears part of the prophecy and chooses Harry (rather than Neville) as the one who will fulfill it. His choice leads to consequences – Harry’s parents are killed, Harry is forced into a life fighting to overcome Voldemort and, ultimately, Harry succeeds in defeating him.
Another – Harry chooses Gryffindor over Slytherin while under the sorting because he doesn’t seek power and control over others. Among other things this leads to a long-lasting relationship with Ron and Hermione that is absolutely critical to the defeat of Voldemort. Or the idea that Rowling introduces early on, and repeats throughout the text, that the wand chooses the wizard. And these are just examples from the first book. I could go on and on, without even resorting to examples that consist of minor choices/consequences.
What makes this even more interesting is the fact that Rowling is often criticized for implying that actions (mainly Harry’s rebellious, rule-breaking actions) do not have consequences. In reality, I think the exact opposite is true – Rowling has placed a scar on the face of her protagonist for the sole purpose of reminding us, constantly, that actions have very serious, long-lasting consequences.
So there you have it, a relatively quick analysis on why I think Harry Potter has a scar. If you made it this far, let me know if you have your own theories as well as what you think about this type of post.