Fiction

Across the Nightingale Floor

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One of the things I love about reading is being able to draw connections between the story I just finished and a conversation I’m having with a friend, or some other book I just read, no matter how different the two may seem. Whether it’s Tufte’s Visual Display of Quantitative Information and getting people to go to church, or the asides of Don Quixote and the Tale of Genji, it’s all connected. Or, as Thomas Foster says in How to Read LIterature like a Professor, it’s all one story:

“We – as readers or writers, tellers or listeners – understand each other, we share knowledge of the structures of our myths, we comprehend the logic of symbols, largely because we have access to the same swirl of story. We have only to reach out into the air and pluck a piece of it” (192).

Across the Nightingale Floor and C.S. Lewis’ essay “On Stories” is yet another example. In this essay, Lewis emphasizes that what makes a story great isn’t as simple as a sense of danger or excitement, or not knowing what will happen next. Instead, it is all the elements of that story, combined in their own unique way, that are important.

Thus, if a story is good, you can’t simply replace one exciting element with another (for example, having your life threatened by pirates being replaced by having your life threatened by regular robbers) because the new element doesn’t contain all the implications and history of the original. In the case of our example, even though you could just as easily die at the hands of regular robbers, they don’t bring to the table all the components of a pirate attack (namely, parrots).

So why am I talking about pirates when Across the Nightingale Floor is about a young boy’s journey of revenge in a world full of ninjas and samurai? Because if it weren’t for Lewis’ insight into this aspect of Story, I don’t think I would have realized what makes Across the Nightingale Floor such a good book. I would have still enjoyed it, because it is good, but my recommendation would not have been any more sophisticated than “This book was good. I don’t know why, but there’s just something so much fun about reading it. I can’t wait to pick up the sequel.” There’s nothing wrong with a reaction like that, but it certainly wouldn’t give a very compelling reason why you should read it.

I don’t want to ruin any of the specific moments, but my full database entry has them if you want the details. In general, though, Across the Nightingale Floor is great because of the personal reaction we have to a world full of Samurais, Ninjas, revenge, faith, compassion, loyalty, and just a little bit of magic. Combined, these elements create a Story that is far more than the individual moments that make it up. If you are a fan of Story, this is definitely a book for you.

Full database on Across the Nightingale Floor. Beware spoilers.

Canvas or: the One That I Wrote

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Last November I participated in National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo for short). I’ve always wanted to write a novel, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. The core concept of NaNoWriMo is that, while there is a time for careful writing and editing, there is also a time for boundless creativity. NaNoWriMo is all about output; quantity is emphasized over quality, and it has to be if you are going to finish a 50,000 word novel in just 30 days.

It was crazy, but fun, and at the end of 30 days, I had a novel that I could be proud of. It was coherent and complete, and that’s about all I was asking of myself. In the mean time I’ve done some editing, but the text itself has remained pretty much what is was as of November 30, 2009. Now, thanks to some cool technology, and some risk-free publishing services, I can actually share my novel with others.

Before I continue, let me be honest for a moment. This is not a professionally published novel. If I were reviewing it on the blog I would probably say something like:  “While there are some interesting ideas in Canvas, the writing is really uneven, and mostly mediocre. The few moments of quality aren’t enough to make me recommend this book.” At the same time, though, I’m pretty excited about having written a book, and I want as many people as possible to read it. If reading a flawed novel written by someone you know interests you, I’ve listed possible acquisition methods below:

  1. You can purchase a paperback copy from Amazon.com, to put on your bookshelf next to Johnny Tremain, for $8.00 (not including shipping. It does qualify for Super Saver shipping if you have anything else to buy). Also, if you live near Houston/know me in person and you want a paperback copy, let me know because I can order them through CreateSpace (the company that actually prints the book) for a little cheaper.
  2. You can purchase the Kindle edition from Amazon.com for $0.99. If you are considering this option, I highly recommend you look below.
  3. You can download the ePub version directly from me (*temporarily disabled). This will work on most eReader devices that I’m familiar with.  If it won’t work on yours, you can use Adobe Digital Editions to read it on your PC.

For the sake of full disclosure, I should note that I do, technically, make money if you buy a copy of this book, but I promise that’s not why I’m posting this (see:  free version (*temporarily disabled)). I literally make less than $0.10 from each paperback sale, and something like $0.34 from the Kindle version. I made the for sale versions as cheap as possible because I’m far more interested in people being able to read it than I am in this becoming a source of income.

So there you have it. If you have decided to read it, I hope you enjoy it. If you read it and don’t enjoy it, rest assured that I agree with your criticisms without even knowing what they are. Finally, I hope that everyone joins me for NaNoWriMo 2010!

The Handmaid’s Tale

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Wow, it’s been so long since I last posted that you’re probably thinking I decided to read The Tale of Genji all over again. I did not, though, so I promise that’s the last reference to the length of Genji that I’ll make (in this post). No, the real reason I haven’t been posting is due to a combination of being on vacation with no internet, and laziness. I was still reading, however, so let’s get to that.

The Handmaid’s Tale, sexual pun intended, is set in a futuristic dystopian society and tells the story of a Handmaid – a religiously and politically sanctioned concubine. The Handmaid who serves as our narrator is not a huge fan of her new role in society.

Though Atwood does an excellent job of creating a cohesive, well-realized, and clearly defined society, I would not go so far as to say the events she portrays are believable. I don’t think our own society is just one step away from heading down this particular path. That isn’t a criticism, however, because I don’t think you have to consider this a real possibility to appreciate what Atwood is trying to tell us.

As a matter of fact, one of my favorite aspects of this book is how it captures both the bad qualities of the society before the new “Handmaid” regime is put in place, as well as the “Handmaid” regime itself. It would probably have been easier just to cast the latter regime in an evil light, but I appreciate that Atwood was willing to criticize the extremes of the pre-dystopian society as well.

I definitely recommend The Handmaid’s Tale, especially to anyone interested in dystopian literature.  However, considering how well-crafted the book is, I don’t think you have to be a fan of similar books to enjoy this book.

“Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations” (270).

Full database entry on The Handmaid’s Tale. Beware spoilers.

The Tale of Genji

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If you’ve been reading this blog recently, you know that I’ve been reading (and enjoying) The Tale of Genji.  I’ll do my best not to reiterate anything I’ve said already, but that shouldn’t be hard considering there are so many great things happening in this book.

First of all, the briefest of synopses.  The Tale of Genji follows 4 generations of individuals in Japan’s Imperial court during the late 10th Century (which is also when it was originally written).  Though Genji is the main character, he is not the only one we get to know in this epic tale.

Ultimately, though, it’s not what happens in The Tale of Genji that makes it so appealing (not to say that there isn’t a lot that happens.  Here’s a quick rundown off the top of my head: sex, rape, death, cuckolding, spirit possession, exorcism, suicide, inclement weather, exile, love, jealousy, infidelity.)  It is the characters, and the reality of their hopes, fears, joys, heartaches, desires, and transgressions that make Genji such a compelling work of fiction.  Or, in Genji’s own words:

“Not that tales accurately describe any particular person, rather, the telling begins when all those things the teller longs to have pass on to future generations – whatever there is about the way people live their lives, for better or worse, that is a sight to see or a wonder to hear – overflows the teller’s heart” (461).

I think I have already given The Tale of Genji the highest recommendation that I can – I spent the last month reading, and enjoying, all 1120 pages.  At no point did I even consider giving up, or reading something else instead.  I never got bored, I never even motivated myself with another book (which I do all the time).  In fact, the only frustration I did feel in the last month was frustration over not having more time to read.  If you have the opportunity, you should definitely pick up The Tale of Genji.  Between its individual style and unique place in history and literature, you won’t ever read anything else quite like it.

“How true it is that bitter experience yields fond memories!” (815).

For more information, see the full database entry on The Tale of Genji.  Beware spoilers.

Tale of Genji – Update 3

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Yes, you are seeing that picture correctly – I finished reading The Tale of Genji over the weekend.  I’ll do a final post, database entry, etc later in the week, but for now I just want to bask in the glory of finishing an epic book.  Now I’m going to spend a week collecting my thoughts and trying to condense a months worth of reading in a few thousand words….

Done!

Quick aside – considering the numerous characters, titles, and interconnected relationships in The Tale of Genji, I’m also considering putting together a few tools to help anyone who wants to read it. More on that if I actually have the energy to compile the necessary data.

Tale of Genji – Update 2

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If you are at all familiar with the Summer of Genji reading schedule, you will probably notice that I’m a little ahead of where I’m supposed to be at this point:

940 down, 180 to go

There are two reasons for this.  First of all, I really want to finish before going on vacation in the first week of August.  Bringing a book this big onto a plane simply seems absurd.  Second, though, is that the nature of this book begs for it to be read in huge chunks.  There are so many characters, often identified only through generic, frequently changing titles, that if you stop reading for even a day, it’s easy to forget completely who you are reading about.

Plus, many of the best moments in the book consist of a subtle shift in the relationship between characters over the course of 50 or more pages.  If you didn’t read it all at once, however, it is much harder to pick up on these shifts.  I’ve noticed several times that the first 20 minutes I spend reading in the evening are slow, and at times dull.  30 minutes later, however, I don’t want to put the book down because some enthralling sub plot has begun to develop.  Ultimately, I’ve found that my enjoyment for the book increases dramatically the more of it I can read in a single sitting.

It’s worth noting that this edition of the book (Royall Tyler’s translation) helps immensely in identify characters and their relationships through footnotes and appendices.  I can’t imagine reading Genji without them!

First Line: Tale of Genji

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Let’s jump right into it:

In a certain reign (whose can it have been?) someone of no very great rank, among all His Majesty’s Consorts and Intimates, enjoyed exceptional favor” (1).

This immediately reminded me of the opening line for Don Quixote, another lengthy, historic tale.  Just as Cervantes’s claim that he can’t remember quite where in La Mancha Don Quixote was from is brimming with irony, Genji’s introduction strikes me as slightly ironic as well.  It may not be immediately evident (unless you consider just how long the book is), but Genji is rife with details about ancient Japanese court lifestyle.  Considering that, there must be some intentional humor in the narrator’s claim that she can’t quite remember whose reign it was.

Yet, at the same time, we must also consider the fact that this is a female author telling us about the behavior of an Emperor in somewhat unflattering terms.  Periodically throughout the book the narrator will address the reader directly, making claims about how it would not be appropriate of someone of her rank to reveal too much about what happened between these more noble characters.  This could simply be the first example of the narrator revealing her own rank and status relative to those she is speaking of.

I think it is also worth considering that, to the original audience of this book, it was painfully obvious who she was referring to.  In that case, this slightly sarcastic “whose can it have been?” interjection is not quite so subtle or deferential at all.  She may be treading somewhat softly, but only because she knows her audience doesn’t need the truth to be stated explicitly, just as all the poetic allusions that follow would have been evident to them as well.

Or, perhaps I’m just reading too much into this, and the narrator is simply attempting to establish from the beginning that, while this work may seem to be real it is, in fact, a fiction.  Her original audience may have immediately known who she was referring to, but by slipping this uncertainty in she is effectively telling them “Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.”

Either way, I think it’s safe to say that I think this is a captivating introduction to the Tale of Genji.

Tale of Genji – Update 1

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I feel like I’ve been reading The Tale of Genji nonstop since I started last weekend.  Even so, though, I’ve still hardly made a dent in this massive book:

364 down, 756 to go

Don’t get me wrong, though, it’s really quite enjoyable.  As the characters were being introduced in the first few chapters it felt more like a collection of isolated short stories, but at this point things are coming together in a much more cohesive manner.  Additionally, the discussions happening over at the Summer of Genji blog are entertaining and informative.  To make things even more interesting, the translator of this edition of the book (Royall Tyler) has joined in on the conversation. I’d post more, but I need to get back to reading if I’m going to finish this book any time soon.

Oh, on a completely unrelated tangent, I implemented a new comment security feature to help prevent all the spam I’ve been getting recently.  If for some reason you are unable to successfully post a comment, please send me an email at scott [at] somesmart [dot] com.

Don Quixote – First Part

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Okay, I confess I cheated; I decided to read only the First Part of Don Quixote.  This part, at 459 pages, is technically a complete book in its own right.  It was published in 1605, 10 years before the second part that makes up the other half of the copy you see depicted to the left.  I will get around to the rest of it eventually but, honestly, I just needed a break.

I feel bad saying I needed a break because I really enjoyed Don Quixote.  If you read my First Line post on Don Quixote you know I was having a blast halfway through the first part.  It was funny, intelligent, modern, and creative.

At about 300 pages in, however, Cervantes decides to interrupt what could have easily been the most interesting and entertaining part of the book with two complete novellas.  Seriously, he interrupts the action to tell two complete stories that deal with characters and plot that are entirely unrelated to Don Quixote.  To be fair, these stories are good, but at this point in the main novel I’m reading, I honestly just don’t care what happens to these other characters.  I want to get back to Sancho and Don Quixote, not read about The Man Who Was Recklessly Curious.

This post sounds a little negative, but only because I said so many positive things previously.  Fortunately, all of those positives are still true and, as a result, Don Quixote is still a recommended read.  However, I can completely understand why an abridged version would remove the two novellas that come so late in the work.  In fact, I would go so far as to say, if you do decide to read Don Quixote, skip the novellas and finish the main story.  Then, because they are good enough in their own right to warrant it, go back and read each novella.  I know it’s a little vain to think that I can suggest a better way to enjoy a book than the author, but I really think your experience will be far superior if you separate the actual Don Quixote story from the two novellas.

“That’s the way,” said Sancho, “I’ve heard it said in sermons, we should love Our Lord: for Himself alone, not because we hope for glory or are afraid of punishment.  But I’d rather love and serve Him for what He can do” (263).

Full database entry on Don Quixote.  Beware spoilers.

A Personal Matter

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There is no doubt in my mind that A Personal Matter is a skilfully executed piece of literature.  And I hated reading it. The main character, Bird, is a 27 year old who dreams of going to Africa.  When his son is born with a brain hernia, he is faced with deciding between surgery for his son (which may or may not allow him to develop normally) and preventing the surgery and allowing the baby to die.

Maybe it’s because I’m a young father myself, but the very idea that Bird would even consider allowing his baby to die disgusted me.  Reading this book was a disturbing, and unpleasant experience.  At the same, the mere fact that Oe was able to illicit these feelings in me as strongly as he has shows that he is good at what he does.  Unfortunately, what he did here is create a character so selfish and depraved that I actively hated him while reading.

With all that said, this brings up an interesting question:  do I recommend a book that I hated reading, one full of characters I found offensive and deplorable if it was all intentional?  How do you handle situations like this?  Do you still recommend the book even though you hated it in terms of content, because it’s an example of good writing?  Or do you choose from myriad other books that are contain good writing, but are not despicable?  I would certainly never recommend this book outright, but I have to admit, if you want something that deals with difficult problems in a vicious manner this book is perfect for you.

“But it seems that reality compels you to live properly when you live in the real world” (164).

Full database entry on A Personal Matter.  Beware Spoilers

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