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The Well at the World’s End Volume I
52 years ago
We spent Easter weekend with some friends in Denton, TX. While there, I had the opportunity to go to the best used book store I’ve ever seen: Recycled Books. In addition to being clean, well-organized, and having the most amazing selection of books, they also had a wide array of collector’s items. As I was perusing the fantasy/sci-fi collector’s section, my attention was drawn to The Wood Beyond the World by William Morris. I glanced at it, saw that it claimed to be “the first fantasy novel ever written”, but decided to put it back and picked up The Well at the World’s End instead. I didn’t know anything about this book, but it fascinated me for some reason. Plus, the back had a quote by C.S. Lewis saying it was great. That, plus the $4 price tag, were enough to sell me.
All that said, I probably should have actually read some of the book to see if I would enjoy it, rather than buying it blindly. I was quite shocked when I opened it up and the first thing I read was “Long ago there was a little land, over which ruled a regulus or kinglet, who was called King Peter, though his kingdom was but little” (1). What? Why does a book written in 1896 (about the same time as James Joyce’s Dubliners, as a matter of fact) sound like it is from the 15th century? I was disappointed, frustrated, and by page 20, I was ready to quit. I pushed on, however, and I’m extremely glad I did.
The Well at the World’s End may utilize archaic language, but once you get used to it, you realize what a rich world the story contains. Ralph, the main character in search of the Well, is youthful, brave, and not afraid to love. While at first I found the language to be a hindrance, by the end I found it added to the sense of fantasy and antiquity that make the book so interesting.
It’s also interesting to consider Morris as an influence on Tolkien and all modern fantasy writers (a common claim I saw online when looking up information on Morris). In terms of tone and style there were definitely some similarities to The Lord of the Rings (perhaps I will detail these on a later blog post?). If you are at all interested in fantasy, and are willing to make the effort to get comfortable with the archaic writing, you will really enjoy The Well at the World’s End. It surprises me to say this given my early dislike of the book, but in the end I was enthralled with the tale and can’t wait to find out what happens in Volume II.
“Maybe thou art seeking for what is not. Or maybe thou shalt seek and shalt find, and there may be naught in what thou findest, whereof to give thee such gifts as are meet for they faithfulness and valiancy. But in thine home shouldst thou have all gifts which thou mayest desire” (257).
Full database entry on The Well at the World’s End Volume I. Beware Spoilers.
A Personal Matter
62 years ago
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).
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
42 years ago
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
42 years ago
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.
So why does Harry Potter have a scar?
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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 reading – 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 hat 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.
How to Read Literature Like a Professor
52 years ago
I have been enjoying my time over the past year of writing down what I think about books as I finish them. It has added a depth to my understanding of books that wasn’t there in the past. Yes, I always enjoyed reading, but I never spent much time meditating on what I read, or digesting it. Instead, I would read a book, finish it, and immediately move on to the next work. Now that I don’t let myself do that, I’m enjoying reading more than ever.
I’ve come to realize, though, that I don’t have that many things to say about books. Most of my discussions consist of enjoying a particular plot element, character, structure, tone, or style of the book. Even when I identify these elements, however, I have a hard time expressing exactly what I like so much about them. Don’t get me wrong – it’s good to enjoy these aspects of books. At the same time, though, I know there is more going on that I’m missing. But where do I start? Do I just make things up?
All of these questions lead me to How to Read Literature Like a Professor, and the book has absolutely met my high hopes for it. Each chapter provides different elements to seek out when reading a book in order to get a deeper understanding of the text. For example, it encourages you to ask questions such as “why is this character sick? and why this particular illness?” Or, “why is it raining/snowing/sunny/cloudy? What is the author trying to tell me with the weather or the seasons?” Fortunately Foster doesn’t just tell us to ask the questions, but gives us numerous possible answers through examples of a wide range of literature.
I enjoyed this book quite a bit, but more than that, I hope that it improves my ability to read literature. I want to know what is going on behind the text – I want my reading experiences to have depth and to (as Foster puts it) resonate more deeply. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to be very good at it. I’m sure practice will help, but I’m afraid my mind simply doesn’t work this way. At the end of the day I may always be more of a surface level reader. That isn’t such a terrible thing, as long as I continue to enjoy reading, but I love to hear about the symbolism and metaphors present in a book, so not being able to see those connections myself will be frustrating.
Still, I’m going to try and, over time, I hope to have more posts that ask these type of questions and try to answer them, and hopefully my insights won’t be too elementary for anyone with a true literary background. Oh, and remember when I said that I wish every subject matter got the same treatment that data graphics received in Visual Display of Quantitative Information? Well, this has been my Visual Display for literature.
“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).
Full Database entry on How to Read Literature Like a Professor. Feel free to read for more of my thoughts on the book, since there aren’t really any spoilers to be had.
Botchan
42 years ago
An introduction to a book can be a double-edged sword. Sometimes it can be extremely useful and informative – as is the case with Botchan. Here we have an introduction that reveals some of the subtleties of the translation that would not have been evident from the text itself. For example the word Botchan, which is the nickname of the main character and narrator, can mean any of the following: “a younger son; inexperienced or naïve; easygoing in a way that can either be mildly endearing or distressingly irresponsible” (5).
Clearly this is important information that is necessary to approach the text in a more fulfilling, meaningful way. This introduction continues such usefulness as it gives clarification to the nicknames Botchan gives to his fellow teachers as well as some insight into why the book is so popular among Japanese readers. All of this was interesting, without spoiling the content of the book.
On the other hand, sometimes introductions go a little overboard. My favorite book to recommend, I Am a Cat is a perfect example. At first the introduction seems to just offer clarification on translation issues but suddenly it gives away the ending of the book, and offers an explanation for why it happened. Why do this? Why ruin an emotionally powerful moment of the book in the introduction without warning? Does the translator assume only those who have read the book already will peruse the intro?
These days, I avoid introductions whenever possible, and in the case of a translated book, I read it (literally) out of the corner of my eye so I can turn away before anything gets spoiled. Well, with my rant out of the way, let’s move on to Botchan proper.
Botchan is the tale of a young man who moves to rural Japan to become a teacher. He encounters a wide array of characters, all of whom he brings to life through bizarre nicknames and colorful commentary. Of all the characters, however, Botchan is by far the most interesting. His unwavering commitment to honesty and upright behavior is both commendable and hilarious. His discussions of those around him are unrestrained and riddled with sarcasm. It is not a stretch to compare his accusations of weakness to Holden Caulfield’s outcries of “phoniness”.
I found Botchan to be funny and engaging. The translation is excellent, and the work did not feel foreign or unapproachable. Far from it. In fact, I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys fiction, but those who have a special place in their book-loving souls for The Catcher in the Rye will find it particularly enjoyable.
“Now that I thought about it, though, I realized that most people actually encourage you to turn bad. They seem to think that if you don’t you’ll never get anywhere in the world. And then on those rare occasions when they encounter somebody who’s honest and pure-hearted, they look down on him and say he’s nothing but a kid, a Botchan. If that’s the way it is, it would be better if they didn’t have those ethics classes in elementary school and middle school where the teacher is always telling you to be honest and not to lie. The schools might as well just go ahead and teach you how to tell lies, how to mistrust everybody, and how to take advantage of people. Wouldn’t their students, and the world at large, be better off that way?” (72).
Half Moon Investigations (Audio)
02 years ago
Before we headed to Pennsylvania for Christmas vacation, Vanessa and I picked up the audio book versions of the first Artemis Fowl, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows from our local library. These were meant to be safe, guaranteed good listens for the many hours of driving we were going to have to do up north. Unfortunately, I left them at home and when we arrived in PA, with a four hour drive looming on the horizon, we were feeling a little nervous.
Vanessa’s mom, and her trusty library card, came to the rescue, however, and while we prepared for the drive she went to her library to pick up “any Artemis Fowl book you can find” (we have read and enjoyed them all, so we weren’t going to be picky at this point). While she did find the first Artemis book, she accidentally grabbed the book you see to the left as well – Half Moon Investigations. Since we had not ever read this one before, and we were feeling adventurous, we decided to give Half Moon a go. We made the right decision.
Half Moon Investigations is the story of a young private detective, Fletcher Moon, who is accused of committing multiple crimes and thereby forced to clear his own name. What really makes the book great is Colfer’s ability to flawlessly combine the interests and vocabulary of a teenager with the wit and tone of classic private eye literature. Within moments of starting the book we were blown away by how strong a character Colfer had created in Moon, and were laughing hysterically as Fletcher, with complete earnestness, reveals the rough and tumble life of a teenage detective.
All of this is enhanced even further by the narration of Sean Patrick Reilly. This Irishman brings Fletcher and his world to life so vividly that I have to wonder if actually reading the book would have been half as enjoyable. After all, would I have had the presence of mind to read Fletcher’s inner dialogue in the classic private detective style? If not, I would have missed out on a huge aspect of the book. My descriptions so far have been pretty insufficient, so I recommend listening to the sample of the audio production available on Amazon (there’s a play button just under the image of the book).
This one is definitely recommended. In fact, if I hadn’t finished it in 2010, it would have been extremely difficult to decide between this and The House of the Scorpion for the best audio book of the year. Fortunately, I won’t have to make any hard decisions like that for at least 11 months.
“It was shiny. He was eight.”
The Hunger Games
12 years ago
It’s frightening to think about a book like The Hunger Games now that we are in year 2010 and officially in the future. Normally when you read a book about a post-apocalyptic world in which an evil government forces children to fight other children to the death in order to show how much power they have, you can reassure yourself with the following: “Nothing to worry about! That kind of thing only happens in the future.” Well guess what? The future is now and, if Suzanne Collins has it right, it’s brutal.
Well, maybe this future isn’t here quite yet, but it’s certainly something to think about. Anyways, bleak children killing children future aside, The Hunger Games is quite captivating. I received this book as a Christmas gift and finished it within just a few days. It’s an easy read, clearly meant for the teen reader, but great for any adult who wants to engross themselves in a world that is just far fetched enough to be exotic, without being ridiculous.
With that said, however, don’t let my flippant attitude give you the wrong impression about this book. It is brutal, with 20 plus children dying at the hands of other kids, and it deals with disturbing themes such as our cultures obsession over violence as entertainment, and the dangers of an oppressive government. I recommend this book to anyone.
What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy
02 years ago
When I first received this book as a gift, I looked at the cover and thought “Cool, a book that will show how good and noble video games are!” However, if I had read even the title a little more closely I would have realized that this isn’t an apologist’s book on video games. It isn’t meant to show how video games are good for us, and therefore should be played by everyone all the time (though they should).
So what is it? Just as the title says, it’s a book that looks at what video games can teach educators about learning. After all, Gee argues, good video games are complicated, difficult, long, frustrating endeavors that children and adults will spend hours mastering. Obviously they are doing something right to produce this type of effort. The question then becomes, what we can we take from video games and apply to the current education process? How can we apply the principles of learning so obviously evident in video games to schools?
Throughout the book, Gee goes into detail on 36 different principles of learning, how they are exemplified in video games, and why they are so important to learning. I may not be an educator, but in my personal experience as a learner, I will say that these principals appear to be accurate. Many of them were things that great teachers helped me do, or that I discovered on my own. Ultimately this isn’t a book about video games, but a book about education and teaching. Video games just provide a surprisingly useful context.
I would recommend this to anyone who is interested in the field of education, regardless of their interest in video games. However, if you love video games, but don’t care about learning and literacy, this is not for you. There isn’t much I can spoil in this book, so if you are curious about reading more, follow the link to the full database entry below.
“[G]ood video games build into their very designs good learning principles and … we should use these principles, with our without games, in schools, workplaces, and other learning sites” (215).