Book blogging (mostly)
Fiction
The Tale of Genji
Jul 30th
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
Jul 27th
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
Jul 21st
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
Jul 9th
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
Jul 6th
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
May 17th
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
Apr 16th
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).
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.