I am so behind in my reviews and decided to just dive in with my most recent reading…so here goes:

The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Than You Think

Well, I ask you…how could I say no to this book?  It jumped off the New Acquisitions shelf of the Hinkle Library.  The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Than You Think by Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods is a readable and fascinating excursion into dogs and their relationship with humans. I learned so much without reading the notes at the end; however, this is a book I want to purchase.

            It begins with Hare’s history with dogs and how his first dog turned him on to this area of research.  Hare, a professor of evolutionary anthropology and founder of the Duke Canine Cognition Center knew his dog was different and began his research as an undergrad.  I was especially interested in his theory of how some wolves adapted into the life of domestication.  He does not believe that man would have trained them because it would have required sharing food with them.  Hare believes it is much more likely that some wolves were attracted to humans through the garbage that accumulated in towns and eventually developed an attraction to humans.  All this was surmised from the research results of a Russian who bred foxes for genetic testing under the guise of fur breeding, thus escaping Stalin’s banishment of genetics.  Survival of the fittest sometimes means survival of the friendliest.

            The research he has done making connections between humans and dogs is astonishing. My primary reason for reading the book was interest in more effectively working with my dogs.  I was not disappointed: “Like infants, dogs are best at following the direction of your gaze when you signal to communicative nature of your head movement.  Dogs are more likely to look where you are looking if you call their name and make eye contact before shifting” (241).  His research has proven that puppies have the same reactions to human gestures as adult dogs.  They also respond well to a high pitched voice, which explains why Viola and Fabian react to my singing in such a positive way.  While reading this book I began thinking of the benefits of having testing done on my hounds.  Brian Hare has an extensive website www.dognition.com  providing the opportunity to test and understand your dog’s cognition and personality.  Pursuing this avenue with one of my hounds is my next goal.

            Not being able to write in this book was a challenge, hence, my desire for a personal copy of it.  The book closes with this thought: “Dogs have such a natural affinity to humans that the gentle stroking of a human hand can release chemicals inside their brains that make them feel calm and affectionate.  They even prefer to be with humans [rather] than with their own species” (282).  Well, of course…I knew that.

Hare, Brian and Vanessa Woods. The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Thank You Think.

            New York: Dutton, 2013. Print.

Picked-up Pieces by John Updike

My blog has been neglected due to the heat of summer, preparing for my annual pilgrimage to Stratford, Ontario, and the trip itself.  I completed my June reading with this collection of essays, speeches, and reviews.

Shortly after October 1989, I picked up this book off a shelf at Sundance Books in Geneseo, paid for it, and brought it home.  Since then my paperback copy of Picked-up Pieces by John Updike has been moved from an apartment to my home and waited patiently on a shelf for me to read it.  It was one of the first books I paged through this year; in May I actually began reading it.  I enjoyed reading this collection of essays, speeches, and book reviews originally published between 1966 and 1975…far earlier than I began reading John Updike.  I heard him speak in Rochester once, and his style was easy and enjoyable – like listening to a good friend talk about books.  John Updike is no longer with us, but his voice remains.

In the Foreword he recalls how he became a book reviewer and gives his rules for writing a book review.  “A reviewer, unlike an ideal reader, is committed to finish the book: I read slower than I write…” (15); identifying with this statement is easy for me.  If I am reading for storyline, I read rather quickly, but when I sense a book deserves a more serious reading, I slow down; I take notes; I copy out lines that strike me.  I am a note taker.  Updike was a serious reviewer:

My rules, shaped intaglio-fashion by youthful traumas at the receiving end of critical opinion, were and are:

1.      Try to understand what the author wished to do and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

2.      Give enough direct quotation—at least one extended passage—of the book’s prose so the review’s reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

3.      Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy précis.

4.      Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending.  (How astounded and indignant was I, when innocent, to find reviewers blabbing, and with the sublime inaccuracy of drunken lords reporting on a peasants’ revolt, all the turns of my suspenseful and surpriseful narrative!  Most ironically, the only readers who approach a book as the author intends, unpolluted by pre-knowledge of the plot, are the detested reviewers themselves.  And then, years later, the blessed fool who picks the volume at random from a library shelf.)

5.      If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author’s oeuvre or elsewhere.  Try to understand the failure.  Sure it’s his and not yours?

To these concrete five might be added a vague sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser.  Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like.  Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any ideological battle a corrections officer of any kind.  Never, never…try to put the author “in his place,” making of him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers.  Review the book, not the reputation.  Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast.  Better to praise and share than blame and ban.  The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys of reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end. (14-15)

And with that citation I believe I have done justice to John Updike.  This collection of essays, speeches, and reviews does not need to be read cover to cover.  I skipped a few reviews of books that I will not be seeking to read.  However, I compiled a list of authors whose work I will revisit or visit for the first time because of Updike’s thoughtful opinions. 

He discusses, in essays and speeches, issues of interest to me: his reactions to meeting other writers, the difficulties of humor in translation, and (in 1969) thoughts on the future of the novel.  As a lover of graphic novels, I was astounded by this comment, “I see no intrinsic reason why a doubly talented artist might not arise and create a comic-strip novel masterpiece” (39).  Updike lived to see graphic novels come to life; I will be seeking out later writings to see if he revisited this topic.

I will close this long overdue review with two lists: one of titles and characters he valued and a second of authors he admired.

Specific titles and characters:  Living and Loving by Henry Green, Remembrance of Things Past, Lolita, Ulysses, Madame Bovary, Notes From the Underground, Last Exit to Brooklyn, Brand by Ibsen, The Painted Bird by Kosinski, Don Quixote, Falstaff, The Naked Ape, Candide, Moby Dick, The Plague, and Fear of Flying by Erica Jong.

Authors: Henry Green, John Hawkes, Proust, Kafka, Joyce, Karl Barth, Soren Kierkegaard, Ibsen, Paul Tillich, Knut Hamsun, Borges, H.G. Wells, Hawthorne, Whitman, Wilde, Chesterton,  G.B. Shaw, Nabokov, Sylvia Townsend Warner, Auden, Camus, Gunter Grass, Jean Genet, Marge Piercy, James Gould Cozzens, Hemingway, John Cheever, E.B. White, Norman Mailer, Saul Bellow, and Naipaul.

Updike, John. Picked-up Pieces. New York: Fawcett Press, 1989. Print.

Two by Joyce Carol Oates...

In the month of June I also read two books by Joyce Carol Oates: The Museum of Dr. Moses – Tales of Mystery and Suspense and Beasts.  Both of these were library books that have since been returned; hence, the reviews will be brief.

The Museum of Dr. Moses (2007) is not for readers who enjoy happy endings; however, if you enjoy Stephen King, you should add this book to your “to be read” list.  These stories had all been previously published in journals and magazines.  I am giving away nothing by including my quick notes on each story: “Hi! Howya Doin!” A friendly runner, “Suicide Watch” Father, son and missing grandson, “The Man Who Fought Roland La Starza” And his affair with the narrator’s mother & truth of his death, “Valentine, July Heat Wave” Unhappy divorce, “Bad Habits” Children of a serial killer, “Feral” Child gone bad, “The Hunter” Serial killer point of view, “The Twins: A Mystery” Mystery on two levels, “Stripping” Pedophile and former (?) victim, and “The Museum of Dr. Moses” Catharsis but is it a happy ending?

I love reading short story collections, and every story in this book was a page turner.

Beasts is a novella really – 138 pages – published in 2002.  Although I neglected to record the publisher, I do have some citations from this one and have decided to share exactly what I wrote in my journal after reading it.

“We are beasts and this is our consolation” (13).  “Trust not in appearances nor in what lies beneath” (14).

How does Oates do this?  She is such a prolific writer, and this novel hinted but did not clearly give away anything a moment too soon. 

It begins with Gillian jolted into a memory, not a confession:  “This is not a confession.  You will see, I have nothing to confess” (3).  And that one word, you, turns a simple first person memory into second person, if only briefly, and brings the reader into the novel as a witness to the memory.  Marvelous.

Two books I listened to...

I am definitely behind in my book blogging and will begin with the two I listened to most recently: The Red Garden by Alice Hoffman and A Good Dog: The Story of Orson, Who Changed My Life by Jon Katz.  Both books are excellent reads that deserve space on my library shelves.

Alice Hoffman’s novel tells the story of a small town in Massachusetts from its founding through the present day.  It is a series of interwoven short stories all of which involve the Red Garden.  Having listened to it, I cannot offer citations; however, as I was listening to the narrator read, memories resurfaced of what I loved about Here on Earth, Green Angel, and Turtle Moon.  Hoffman creates a world with characters you want to know, understand, or wish you had never met.  Her characters say or think things that do far more than advance the story.  Her writing forces you to savor a page, to read a passage more than once – not because it is difficult to understand but for the richness of the ideas and the language in which they are expressed.  I regret having given away two of her books and will be looking for this one.

Jon Katz’s memoir, A Good Dog: The Story of Orson, Who Changed My Life, is an extraordinary story of a border collie that changed the world of Jon Katz.  There are sad moments in the book; my sister Penny has vowed not to read any more books about animals because they always make you cry.  They may bring me to tears; however, I identify with the author and learned much from his experiences.  In his desire to understand Orson and help him be a happy dog, Katz took him for obedience training, sheep herding lessons, consulted multiple veterinarians, and animal communicators.  I agree with the steps he took and the decisions he made.  Another reader may disagree; that’s OK.  His explanations and meditations on aspects of life are what make this book a keeper – one I need to actually read.  The discussion of ecstatic places is important to an understanding of life.  I will never forget Orson, Rose, or Jon Katz.

Reflections on Major Barbara by George Bernard Shaw

Major Barbara is a play I have enjoyed reading and seeing in performance multiple times.  Having just read it again for my Great Books group, I decided a brief reflection is in order.

This play is the perfect read for thinking Americans today.  If you have ever read works by Shaw, you know that his plays are meant for thinkers; they are not light comedies.  This play includes discussions of morality and its varying definitions, responsibility of the state for its people, morality and religion or perhaps morality versus religion, and finally the crime of poverty.  Poverty is a crime?  Yes, if there is great wealth, there should be no poverty.  It is also about families:  mothers and sons, mothers and daughters, responsibility of fathers to their children.  And it is about love: parental love, couples in love, love for humankind.

If you have never read Shaw, shame on you!  Start with Major Barbara.  Even better...it is in performance at The Shaw Festival this year!

Shaw Festival Link!

More...I will always read more by Christopher Moore.

How does one go about writing a review of any novel by Christopher Moore?  I will begin with a line from The Stupidest Angel:   “The prior Christmas, Mavis’s fruitcake had put two people into detox.  She’d sworn that it would be the last year.  Mavis shrugged. ‘This cake’s nearly a virgin.  There’s only a quart of rum and barely a handful of Vicodin’” (164).  Mavis Sand is the proprietor of the Head of the Slug Saloon, and in Practical Demonkeeping, Christopher Moore’s first novel, I read her background story.  I would love to try her fruitcake.

This novel introduces the setting of Pine Cove, California: a town Moore revisits in other novels including The Stupidest Angel.  The reader meets important citizens such as Augustus Brine, owner of Brine’s Bait Tackle and Fine Wines.  How can you NOT love the world of Christopher Moore?

My first journey into Moore’s hysterically hilarious irreverent world was Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal when it made the Top Ten YA Books List from the American Librarian Association.  Reading his novels, I am guaranteed to be laughing out loud with tears streaming down my face.  After reading The Stupidest Angel for the first time, I knew I must seek out and read everything written by Christopher Moore.

The angel Raziel appears in both Lamb and The Stupidest Angel; Pine Cove is a town the reader will revisit many times.  And demonkeeping is a topic addressed in many of his works.  This novel tells the story of Travis, a man who has spent about 70 years traveling with the demon Catch and is trying to get rid of him – permanently.  I’ll close with a bit of dialogue between these two characters:

            Catch: “You’re trying to be tricky.  What’s morality?” 

Travis: “It’s the difference between what is right and what you can rationalize.” 

Catch: “Must be a human thing.” 

Travis: “Exactly.” (73).

Moore, Christopher. Practical Demonkeeping. New York: Harper, 2004. Print. (Originally published 1992).

---. The Stupidest Angel. New York: Harper Collins, 2004. Print.

POST SCRIPT - I also listened to The Photograph by Penelope Lively.  As I do not have a print copy of this book, I am unable to write a review; however, I did enjoy the story.  Decided on this book because I had read The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald several years ago.  Well...when I was at the library looking at the playaways, I thought Lively had written The Bookshop.  LOL  One books leads to another...

The Temple of the Golden Pavilion by Mishima Yukio

The last of three Japanese novels in my library The Temple of the Golden Pavilion requires giving what some readers may consider a spoiler; however, the storyline should not be the only reason to read a book.  This novel is historical fiction: information included on the cover and discussed in the Introduction by Nancy Wilson Ross:

In 1950, to the distress ad horror of all art-loving and patriotic Japanese, the ancient Zen temple of Kinkakuji in Kyoto was deliberately burned to the ground.  This Golden Pavilion, a rare masterpiece of Buddhist garden architecture, dated back over five hundred years to the days of the great Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, military leader, aesthete, and powerful patron of the Zen cult. . . So revered was this historic and religious shrine that it enjoyed in Japan the status of a National Treasure.  It was willfully set fire to and destroyed by an unhappy and unbalanced student of Zen Buddhism. (vi)

But this knowledge should not stop anyone from reading The Temple of the Golden Pavilion.  Readers do not refuse to read historical fiction because they know the time period; that is precisely why we read historical fiction.  Readers enjoy reading a story that takes place with familiar markers or markers of interest.  I read this novel knowing it was Mishima’s interpretation of history; he used the incident and built a story around the perpetrator of the crime.

The Temple of the Golden Pavilion is told from the first person point of view of Mizoguchi, the student.  (This is not the real name of the student who burned down the temple). The novel is a confession and reads with the believability of non-fiction.  Things happen which the reader may or may not be able to connect as important to the story, but that is real life.  Every moment or action in life is not necessarily important, but it is all part of a complete life.  Mizoguchi is faced with situations that are problematic to him; individuals get in the way of his plans, but there is no one clearly taking the role of antagonist.  Mizoguchi is the antagonist in this novel; the temple is the protagonist.  Even as he prepares to set the fire, Mizoguchi contemplates its beauty:

Yet I did not know whether beauty was, on the one hand, identical with the Golden Temple itself or, on the other, consubstantial with the night of nothingness that surrounded the temple.  Perhaps beauty was both these things.  It was both the individual parts and the whole structure, both the Golden Temple and the night that wrapped itself about the Golden Temple.  (254)

A quick Google of the author made more interesting connections.  Mishima Yukio was far right politically.   He was short-listed for the Nobel Prize for Literature three times, and his political views probably kept this award from him.  He committed ritualistic suicide after his failure to overthrow the Japanese government in 1970. 

My brief foray into Japanese literature has been challenging and rewarding.  Having read a couple of books by Kenzaburo Oe after he was awarded the Nobel in 1994, I will probably return to them for a second reading.  Although I am ready for some lighter reading now, I have greatly enjoyed reading three very different novels, all considered to be classics from the literature of Japan.

Mishima, Yukio. The Temple of the Golden Pavilion. Translated by Ivan Morris. Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle Co., 1987. Print.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

For the second time this year I have revisited a novel for the purpose of discussion.  It thrills me to enjoy it more the second time around.  The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern is about imagination, illusions, magic, manipulation, love, passion, and beauty.  Beyond that I am hesitant to say too much.  Many people would say the back cover of the book says too much, so I will not even quote from there.

This novel involves a challenge between two older magicians, but they do not compete.  Hector Bowen and Mr. A.H. serve as mentors.  Two young people, the daughter of Bowen and a young man chosen by Mr. A.H., are unwillingly committed to this competition.  

Morgenstern employs two timelines: the creation of the circus in the late 1800s and the end of the competition in the early 1900s.  The sections are clearly labeled, and eventually the timelines overlap.  If you enjoy a story that keeps your mind’s eye busy, this novel will thrill you.  I hated to leave this world and will have the images living in my mind; her descriptions are breathtakingly realistic, and Morgenstern brings her reader into the experience as if seeing a live performance:  “A show without an audience is nothing, after all.  In the response of the audience that is where the power of performance lives” (57).

This novel is about keeping secrets, and I will honor that:

Secrets have power…And that power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well.  Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them.  Writing them down is even worse because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it.  So it’s really best to keep your secrets when you have them for their own good, as well as yours.  (226)

And yes, I will be reading The Night Circus again.

Morgenstern, Erin. The Night Circus. New York: Anchor Books, July, 2012. Print.
http://erinmorgenstern.com/

Kokoro by Soseki Natsume

My second journey into novels of Japan also focused on man’s loneliness in the modern world but with quite a difference.  Soseki was writing in the late 1800s and early 1900s.  Kokoro, considered by many to be his best novel, tells the story of a young man who befriends an older man he calls “Sensei” or teacher.  The translator, Edwin McClelland, states in a footnote that although this word translates most closely to teacher, a better translation would be the French word, “maître.”  After consulting a friend in Quebec, I agreed that the use of this word implying a more erudite nature is more appropriate for the character of Sensei.

The novel is divided into three sections:  Sensei and I, My Parents and I, Sensei and His Testament.  The last section is half of the book.  It is all first person point of view, but the last section is from the viewpoint of Sensei.  For the young man, understanding the secret behind Sensei’s monthly visits to a gravesite – always alone – is the story that must be told.  Without offering any spoiler to someone who may read the novel, I cite this passage from Sensei’s Testament:

When I was cheated by my uncle, I felt very strongly the unreliableness of men.  I learned to judge others harshly, but not myself.  I thought that in the midst of a corrupt world I had managed to remain virtuous.  Because of K, however, my self-confidence was shattered.  With a shock, I realized that I was no better than my uncle.  I became as disgusted with myself as I had been with the rest of the world.  Action of any kind became impossible for me. (238)

Sensei’s self-imposed loneliness and experiences shade the knowledge he shares with the narrator.  But the story is mesmerizing, and the style of writing obviously modeled on the novel of the Western tradition.  One website refers to Soseki as the “Dickens of Japan.”  I withhold making a judgment call on that label, but I will look for other books by this author.  One of his other novels is a trilogy entitled I Am a Cat described as the story of a stray cat taken in by some Japanese people and told from the cat’s point of view.  It is still in print and reminds me of “Tobermory” by Saki (H.H. Munro).  I will probably search out that one as it predates the short story.  I am wondering if Munro was influenced by Soseki.

Finally, every thinking reader makes connections between different books.  I love when a line in one novel sends me scurrying through my notes to find that other line it brings to mind.  Near the end of this novel Sensei says, “But who are we to judge the needs of another man’s heart?” (247)  It made me think of this line from The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford, “For who in this world can give anyone a character?  Who in this world knows anything of any other heart – or of his own?” (130)  Ford’s novel was published in 1915; Soseki’s in 1914.  It certainly has me thinking of the changing world these two men lived in and how thinking people experience recognition of truths.  Both of these authors, from very different cultures, are still reaching out a century later to the modern reader.

Soseki, Natsume. Kokoro. Translated by Edwin McClellan. Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle Co. Inc., 1986. Print

Ford, Ford Madox. The Good Soldier. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2005. Print.

http://www.ibiblio.org/eldritch/ns/soseki.html

Darkness in Summer by Kaiko Takeshi

Over the past year I have worked with many Japanese students in the writing lab at Alfred State College and have so enjoyed the experience that while searching for my next read, my eyes were caught by this novel – a gift from a foreign exchange student years ago.  And so begins my journey through three novels by Japanese authors.  I also learned that the Japanese always write family name first and have corrected that error from the cover of this book.

Kaiko Takeshi (1930-1989) was a highly acclaimed writer, and the recipient of many awards in his country.  He is noted for standing against the American involvement in Vietnam and being an activist proponent of peace in that country.  Darkness in Summer is, if not a sequel, a novel that revisits the characters from Into a Black Sun.  The novel begins with an epigraph, Revelations 3:3: “I know thou works, that thou are neither cold nor hot.  I would thou wert cold or hot.”

The unnamed narrator could use the epigraph as his motto.  The novel tells the story of this man and his relationship with a woman he had loved, years ago, in Tokyo. They have kept in touch, and now while traveling in France, she comes to visit him.  He is a novelist/reporter; she is completing a dissertation.  They share their lives sexually, but he is too depressed to have feelings for another person.  The turning point of the action happens while they are staying at her apartment in Berlin.

It was not the storyline that kept me reading this novel; it was the writing.  Despite the literal and figurative darkness, the language was lush, pensive, challenging, and erudite:

…you write a novel with words, but words are the ultimate imprecision.  They are facts and matters, and yet they are nothing but obscurity and there is no specific weight in their meanings.  Words can take on any connotation depending on one’s experience.  They are constantly living and changing.  You can’t stop them.  They collapse as soon as you pause to scrutinize them. (66)

I was moved by these words while contemplating the keen precision a translator must employ to bring a Japanese novel to life for the Western reader.

Published in 1972, the novel reflects the author’s interests when the narrator becomes obsessed with reading more about the Tet Offensive.  I would be interested in reading Into a Black Sun to gain a better understanding of the character, but it is not necessary to appreciate this novel.  I have two more novels by important Japanese writers, both gifts from the same student.  This one stands out as a modern contemporary novel reflecting the times in which it was written.

Takeshi, Kaiko. Darkness in Summer. Translated by Cecilia Segawa Seigle. Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle Company, Inc., 1973. Print.

Revisiting Amelie Nothomb...

Back in March I read Life Form by Amelie Nothomb and was not sure exactly how I felt about that novel; however, looking at her bio and number of published works, I decided to read more of her novels. Hygiene and the Assassin is her first published novel (1992), and the connections with Life Form (2010) are intriguing.

 Life Form told the story of an author, Amelie Nothomb, and her correspondence with an obese American soldier serving in Iraq. It was strange reading a novella in which the author is a character. It is still difficult to put an assessment of this novel into words. There is an element of the absurd, but even that label is incomplete. Hygiene and the Assassin seemed the logical choice for a follow up as it is her highly acclaimed first novel. Eye brows raised, I began reading a novel about a Nobel Laureate recipient, Pretextat Tach, who is an obese misogynistic recluse. When his impending death is announced, reporters take turns interviewing him. The efforts of three male reporters are repulsed in quick dismissive style; a fourth male reporter gleans a bit more information of Pretextat Tach and his world; however, it is the fifth interviewer - a woman, Nina - who breaks through his deceptive surface.

 In the fourth interview Tach proclaims that he does not believe anyone really reads his work; if they do read his work, only he is capable of understanding it. The interviewer argues the Nobel would seem to refute this theory, and Tach responds, "There are a great many people who push sophistication to the point of reading without reading. They're like frogmen, they go through books without absorbing a single drop of water" (54). Tach goes on to describe what he expects of a true reader:

I thought that everyone read the way I do.  For I read the way I eat:  that means not only do I need to read, but also, and above all, that reading becomes one of my components and modifies them all.  You are not the same person depending on whether you have eaten blood pudding or caviar…the majority of people emerge from reading Proust or Simenon in an identical state:  they have neither lost a fraction of what they were nor gained a single additional fraction.  They have read, that’s all:  in the best-case scenario, they know ‘what it’s about.’  And I’m not exaggerating.  How often have I asked intelligent people, ‘Did this book change you?’ and they look at me, their eyes wide, as if to say, ‘Why should a book change me?’ (54).

I understand what Tach is saying here; many people read for the story; that is, they appreciate some authors more than others but do not benefit from what they have read.  Robertson Davies would describe Pretextat Tach as a member of the clerisy.

Nina does successfully complete her interview. The past of Pretextat Tach is exposed for the world; although, I will not expose it to my blog readers.  The derivation of his first name is important to the story; that is the only hint I will give.  And the novel ends with Nina serving as Tach’s self-proclaimed avatar – the embodiment of a concept or philosophy – who also performs his dying request.

Has Amelie Nothomb won over another reader?  Oh, yes.  I have four more of her novels waiting to be read.  I only wish I could read her in the original French because if her writing is this good in translation, I cannot help but wonder what I am missing.

Nothomb, Amelie. Hygiene and the Assassin. translated by Alison Anderson. New York: Europa Editions, 2010. Print.

And April springs to a close...

Back in September I read How To Write a Sentence and How To Read One by Stanley Fish. I enjoyed his approach of practicing formats and began using it with my college students. Fish cites wonderfully written sentences from many authors, but it was an aside about The Good Soldier that stopped me in my reading: "...a novel nearly every sentence of which merits a place in this book." And so The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford was added to my reading list. I quickly found it in Hinkle Library at Alfred State College and borrowed the lovely, unread book. It became part of my temporary collection until end of the semester due dates demanded it be read. Now I need to buy my own copy.

In his introduction to the novel, Frank Kermode focuses on the unreliable narrator and the non-chronological approach which was apparently unusual for the time; The Good Soldier was published in 1915. This was the first time I was reading a novel recommended for its quality of writing. Approaching this novel, I did not think about the story line; it was an interesting experience reading a novel with the thought of the writing...not the story.

Because I read the introduction, I expected the novel to be a difficult read; however, that was not the case. And following the storyline was not as confusing as Kermode led me to believe, but the idea of telling a story out of chronological order is no longer new. The story involves the unreliable narrator, Dowell, his wife Florence and their relationship with Edward and Leonora Ashburnham. From the back cover:

Handsome, wealthy, and a veteran of service in India, Captain Edward Ashburnham appears to be the ideal “Good Soldier.” But for his creator, Ford Madox Ford, he also represents the corruption at society’s core. Beneath Ashburnham’s charming, polished exterior lurks a soul well-versed in the arts of deception, hypocrisy, and betrayal.  Throughout the nine years of his friendship with an equally privileged American, John Dowell, Ashburnham has been having an affair with Dowell’s wife, Florence.  Unlike Dowell, Ashburnham’s own wife Leonora is well aware of it.

John Dowell is telling the story in retrospect; he does not tell it chronologically.  The issue of unreliability is another twist in the story.  Is he truly naïve?  The reader must make a decision on that point.

I connect this novel with the writings of Edith Wharton and, perhaps, Henry James.  It is an American narrator written by a British author covering that time period of the Gilded Age with its privleged people living off family wealth.  This novel deserves a second read; I will have my own copy when that day comes.

 
Ford, Ford Madox. The Good Soldier. New York: Barnes & Noble, 2005, Print.

Two more excellent novels...

I finished reading two novels over the last few days.  Both of them are keepers for different reasons.

 

Into the Beautiful North by Luis Alberto Urrea is the 2013 choice for If All of Rochester Reads One Book.  The premise grabbed me immediately; however, it took me about 50 pages to get into it.  I love the epic qualities of this novel.  Into the Beautiful North offers all the aspects and traits of a classic epic.  I would consider teaching this novel with my college classes or in a high school. 

From the book jacket, “…at a showing of the movie The Magnificent Seven at the village’s decrepit theater, Nayeli has a vision:  she will go north and recruit a group of men to return to the village.  She will bring back her own “Siete Magnificos” to protect—and repopulate—her home.” 

And with this goal, Nayeli begins her epic quest.  Along the way she encounters examples of the temptations and assistance found in epics dating back to The Odyssey.  But as Nayeli travels north and across the United States, she also experiences the realities of life for illegal immigrants.

This darkly comic epic is an accessible example of classic literature for the 21^st century.

Urrea, Luis Alberto. Into the Beautiful North. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2009. Print.

As I finished reading Into the Beautiful North, I was thinking about all the possibilities for this novel:  both how and where it could be taught and the possibilities for Nayeli and her village.  I did not want to dive into another novel requiring serious reading and concentration and looked to my collection of YA novels.  What jumped into my line of vision?  The Realm of Possibility by David Levithan – it is a quicker read; however, it deserves and received, concentration from the reader.

This novel tells the stories of 20 students in one high school in their own words.  Twenty narrators, using free verse and/or prose, speak of their lives and the lives of the people they know.  The narrators are presented in groups of four, but sometimes the lives overlap the groupings.  These are coming of age stories, coming into awareness stories, stories that represent pain, love, and all the other possibilities of life.  Many stories with many words but as one character says, “The words that matter always stay” (143). 

This entire novel pulled me into the lives of these students.  Charlotte finds words exploding from her head onto the pages of her notebooks, the desks, the walls.  She wonders what others think when they find these messages.  Another student will find these messages threatening and take them personally.  But there are also shared love stories, and the clever style of writing is amazing.  I will read this book again because once is not enough.

Levithan, David. The Realm of Possibility. New York: Alfred K. Knopf, 2004. Print

Weekly Check in...

No completed reading to report; sorry about that!  I am halfway through Into the Beautiful North by Luis Alberto Urrea.  I love the premise: a young Mexican girl lives in a town that all the men have left.  After viewing The Magnificent Seven, she decides to go to the United States and bring back seven Mexican men to defend her town from the banditos and drug pushers.  Humor and reality are are both ingredients for a good novel.  Enjoying but not loving this one.

Good Omens...yes, indeed.

I first read this novel sometime earlier in this century but have not had the time to check my records for an accurate date.  It was a gift from Bob & Cris Riedel who just said, "Read it."  I did and have loved the works of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett ever since.  What brought me back to this particular book for a second read?  World Book Night, a wonderful program that began in England and provides books to be distributed to people who do not usually read.  This is the first year I am participating.  There are specific books available and when signing up, participants may give three choices.  I do not remember my two other choices; I am thrilled to be sharing Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

I do not give away plot in my reviews, but attempting to sum up this novel would be particularly difficult.  What I love is the humor and the way both Gaiman and Pratchett play with language.  Here's the copy from the back cover:  "We hear the world will end on a Saturday.  Next Saturday, in fact.  Just before dinner.  Unfortunately, Sister Mary Loquacious of the Chattering Order has misplaced the Antichrist.  The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse ride motorcycles. And the representatives from Heaven and Hell have decided they actually like the human race..."

If you are not laughing yet, how about this warning on the copyright page:

CAVEAT

Kids!  Bringing about Armageddon can be dangerous.

Do not attempt it in your own home.

The humor in the writing may stem from Terry Pratchett; I reviewed his newest novel, Dodger, here in my entry of 20 January 2013.  Neil Gaiman has, in my limited experience, a darker creativity: The Graveyard Book and Coraline.  So if you have not yet experienced either of these authors, why not start with a novel that gives you a taste of both?  You will not be disappointed.

Gaiman, Neil and Pratchett, Terry. Good Omens. New York: Ace Books, 1996. Print.

A March of serious endings...

I finished out the month of March with non-fiction, and though I thoroughly enjoyed every book I read this month, these two may be my favorites: Team of Rivals – The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin and Words To Live By a memoir by William Whitehead.

I listened to Team of Rivals in an unabridged edition with excellent narration by Suzanne Toren and augmented my listening by borrowing the actual book from Hinkle Memorial Library at Alfred State.  With less than 300 pages to go, I was thrilled to actually read the book and have access to the maps and illustrations.  This book was riveting and readable.  It really is a multiple biography of Lincoln’s rivals and his incredible ability to pull these men together into his cabinet.  I learned so much about men whose names meant nothing to me and enjoyed seeing the connections between politics in the 1850s and 1860s and politics today: nothing has changed.  Partisan politics was the issue then, and it is worse now.  But I have a greater appreciation of William H. Seward, Edwin M. Stanton, Ulysses S. Grant, and Abraham Lincoln because of this book.  The importance of other men and their contributions did not escape my understanding, but Grant, Stanton, and especially Seward emerged in my mind as men who understood and respected Lincoln when others were playing politics.  Goodwin also demonstrates that Mary Lincoln was an intelligent multi-faceted woman.  Even today people faced with chronic migraines are misunderstood; Mary Lincoln was institutionalized.  I will definitely read other books by Doris Kearns Goodwin and plan on adding a copy of this to my permanent library. 

 

SIDEBAR:  One other historical biography stands out in my memory:  Undaunted Courage: Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, and the Opening of the American West by Stephen Ambrose.  These two books taught me so much more about specific times/issues in United States history than I ever learned in school.

 Goodwin, Doris Kearns. Team of Rivals The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005. Print.

  

William Whitehead’s memoir is a delightful romp through the life of a man who started out a child afraid of bugs, majored in entomology, was an actor, wrote scripts for an iconic CBC show, The Nature of Things, and shared 40 years of his life with Timothy Findley.  What makes this memoir so delightful is Whitehead’s love of words.  He ties his life together with the memories of the humor he has always found in words…especially at his own expense.  Here’s one example:  In the late 1950s he and other friends were invited to an elaborate evening party.  Upon arriving at the estate where it was being held, Whitehead saw two friends – Marigold Charlesworth and Jeannie Roberts, who were a couple – Roberts was wearing “A gorgeous silken print dress, silk stockings, high heels, beautiful make-up – with her auburn hair fashioned into a Dutch-boy bob.”   He was overwhelmed by the transformation and immediately thought of the famous childhood story about the little Dutch boy who saved his country.  Whitehead blurted out, “My God, Jeannie.  You look just like you should have your finger stuck in a dike!” (101).

 

There are also poignant moments.  The last section of the book is titled “Words to Die for.”  The closing left me speechless for several hours:

What will my experience of death be like?  By then, will I still have words to express what I feel?...Now, with a lifetime of images and memories, I could live without words.

And, if need be, I could die without them, too.

Complete.

And contented.  (248)

 

Thank you, William Whitehead.

 

Whitehead, William. Words To Live By. Markham, Ontario: Cormorant Books, 2012. Print.

Spring has arrived?

And with the snow that defines spring in western NY I have been reading as much as possible as March draws to a close.

Finished reading Woe Is I:  The Grammarphobe's Guide to Better English in Plain English by Patricia T. O'Conner.  I will be keeping this book with me during all tutoring sessions from now on as it explains things concisely with user-friendly examples.  I tried to buy an electronic copy of the newer edition as it would be a useful reference; however, the only edition available as an e-book is for children.  That is an unfortunate oversight.

O'Conner. Patricia. Woe Is I:  The Grammarphobe's Guide to Better English in Plain English. New York: Riverhead Books, 1996. Print.

Also read a modern classic for children, Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt.  Babbitt's novel has called from the shelf several times but never with enough enthusiasm until this month.  A delightful, sweet, novel about accepting life as it is meant to be, family loyalty, and the desire to protect others that was first published in 1975.  I am very glad to have added this one to my reading memories.

Babbitt, Natalie. Tuck Everlasting. New York: Square Fish, 2007. Print

Currently reading Words To Live By a memoir by William Whitehead and listening to Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  These two pieces of non-fiction will complete the month of March for me.

Two reviews this time...

I finished reading two novels back to back; Red Dog, Red Dog by Patrick Lane and Life Form by Amelie Nothomb.

Sometimes I do not know where to begin when reviewing a novel.  Red Dog, Red Dog by Patrick Lane has kept me thinking since I finished reading it two days ago.  It is a dark novel that leaves the reader wondering…that’s the kind of reading experience I love.

Set in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia in 1958, Red Dog, Red Dog tells the story of Tom and Eddy Stark, but the story line takes the reader back in time to understand their parents.  Told sometimes by an omniscient third person narrator and other times through the eyes of Alice, their dead sister, the writing flows effortlessly from one to the other sharing a horrible story of abuse, betrayal, and unrequited love.

I do not want to give away the plot; however, I will share this passage to give an idea of the beauty of Lane’s writing:

He heard the call of the loon and saw the fall of the snow geese onto the sloughs, the Canadas and curlews as they came in their millions down the sky onto the desolate prairie lakes.  Going north or south, blade after blade of birds cried down until the water was so weighted by their breasts he thought the lakes themselves would rise above the earth and drown the land forever.  He’d seen the dust walk the plains, a thousand-foot wall of earth moving across the fields.  He lived the drought years. I seemed at themes all he talked of was dust and roads. (152)

Patrick Lane is a Canadian poet; he has also published a memoir and has a marvelous web page.

Lane, Patrick. Red Dog, Red Dog. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 2009. Print.

I discovered Amelie Nothomb and her novel, Life Form, on the Europa Editions website after reading 70% Acrylic 30 % Wool by Viola DiGrado.  Nothomb, born in Japan of Belgian parents, lives in Paris and has published multiple novels written in French.  Her novels tend to be under 200 pages, and this work of 124 pages is better described as a novella.  Life Form tells the story of an author, Amelie Nothomb and her correspondence with a soldier in the American Army serving in Iraq, Melvin Mapple. 

I read this novel in two hours and could have read it in one sitting, if life didn’t interfere.  It is mesmerizing.  Nothomb takes the unusual step of making herself the first person narrator in this epistolary novel; however, the reader is aware that this IS a novel…not a memoir.  I found myself feeling quizzical, repulsed, fascinated, frustrated, bamboozled, but never disappointed.  It is a stunning novel, and I plan on reading more of her works to better appreciate her style. 

Nothomb, Amelie.  Life Form.  translated by Alison Anderson.  New York: Europa Editions, 2013.         Print. 

What has my attention this week?

As I have not finished reading any book in the past week, this will be a brief update on what I am reading.

I am listening to Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  This book has been on my list of books to read since it was published in 2005, so when I saw it on the shelf at the library, the decision was an easy one.  Team of Rivals is really a biography of all the men who, although rivals of Lincoln prior to his presidency, served on his cabinet.  The writing is marvelous; the topic is fascinating; the narrator is excellent.  I think there are 36 CDs and would like to finish it by the end of the month. 

For those times when lighter reading is needed Woe Is I – The Grammarphobe’s Guide to Better English in Plain English by Patricia T. O’Conner has proven to be a good choice.  I enjoy reading about writing and am always on the lookout for better teaching strategies.

The novel of choice is Red Dog, Red Dog by Patrick Lane.  Lane is a Canadian poet and novelist.  I will be posting a review of this novel soon, as I am about 100 pages from finishing.

And be watching for my upcoming appreciation of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

A Voice From the Attic by Robertson Davies

I doubt any Canadian writing today would refer to himself/herself as a "voice from the attic," but 1960 was a different world, and the cover says, "An invigorating exploration of the wonderful world of reading by one of Canada's most brilliant writers and critics." My copy is a paperback edition dated 1972 and labeled as #83 in the New Canadian Library Series. When I pulled this book off the "over the door paperback rack" in January, I hesitated a moment. Did I want to read a book that must be horribly dated and probably stodgy? I've read novels by Davies and loved them, seen plays of his works in performance and loved them, and enjoyed listening to him speak once even when I did not agree with some of his statements; however, I thought this would be a dry book to read. FAR from dry, never stodgy, and amazingly contemporary, A Voice From the Attic is a mesmerizing read from start to finish.

 

The first section of the book entitled “A Call to the Clerisy” is a challenge to those of us who read with a purpose beyond entertainment.  The American Heritage Dictionary defines clerisy as “educated people as a class” while Merriam-Webster online states “intelligentsia.”  Davies refines his use of the word:  “The clerisy are those who read for pleasure, but not for idleness; who read for pastime but not to kill time; who love books, but do not live by books” (7).  He goes on to discuss which readers would not fit into this description.  He frowns on the readers whose “…prize they seek is to have done with the book in hand” (9).  The goal should not be completion or how many books I have read; the goal is “…the actual business of reading—the interpretative act of getting the words off the page and into your head in the most effective way.  It is not the quickest way of reading…” (8). 

 

I have been reading with pen in hand since college.  There are times when I drop the pen; those are the times when I am reading for the joy of it (I refuse to call it killing time).  The Interceptor by Dick Wolf is a perfect example of this kind of reading.  Dick Wolf is the creator of the Law & Order series, and when I heard he had written a novel, I wanted to read it because of the television shows; it was a good read.  Will I read it again? No, but I enjoyed reading it once.  When I read as a self-proclaimed member of the clerisy, I am reading a book that remains in my home because I may want to read it again due to its use of language, connection with other works and other writers, multiple layers of meaning, etc.  There are books that fit in both categories: the Harry Potter series is a fine example.  I have read each of these books more than once and listened to them on CD.  I could write a scholarly paper on them if I so desired, but I do not have a desire to write about them.  I read them or listen to them for the sheer joy of the story line.  I will return to those books many times; they are the reading equivalent of comfort food.

 

I have digressed a bit, but this book has reinvigorated my love of reading in depth.  Davies has sections on books of self-help; on love, sex, and sexuality; psychology; reading plays; comedy; pornography vs. erotica, and the closing chapter addresses best sellers vs. what may become a classic. One other chapter entitled “From the Well of the Past” discusses the need to read novels of a time period in order to truly understand the time period; however, the recommendation he makes may surprise the reader:  “…we must look for that which has been thought and said most, and most heeded, in the segment of the past which is our choice…not the great fiction, but the popular fiction” (113).  He then goes on to give examples of best sellers from Victorian England.  At the time there were still people from the late Victorian age alive to answer questions and discuss the times; however, “The Victorians of a century ago were nearer in feeling to the eighteenth, yes, and to the seventeenth century than to our own; to have known them is to hold the key to an even more remote past” (113).  This concept of the time period he chose got me thinking about which time period would work for me should I address this task.  The 1940s and 1950s?  As I continue to read and reflect on my reading, I will continue to reflect on this idea and hope to return to it. 

He returns to the responsibilities of being a member of the clerisy at the end of the book:  “The first task of the clerisy is not to belabor others to read more, but to improve their own performance.  The influence which the clerisy can exert will come by doing, not by exhorting others to do” (293-4).   As he examines the writers of his time, Davies reflects on the changes the new millennia will bring and closes with one more message for the clerisy:  “It is for the clerisy to show themselves more alert, more courageous, and better prepared, so that when the first shafts of the dawn appear in our present night, they will know them for what they are” (351).

Robertson Davies died in 1995.  Prior to his death in addition to a revised edition of this book, he also published another book on books and reading.  I am searching for copies of these to see what else he had to say in the last 25 years of the 20^th Century.

 

Davies, Robertson. A Voice From the Attic. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1972. Print.

Strained approach to teenage relationships...

Just finished reading The Rehearsal by Eleanor Catton and was hooked from the beginning but disappointed overall.  This first novel tells the story of Abbey Grange, an all-girls high school where it has been discovered that a male teacher has taken advantage of a student.  As the story progresses, the freshman class at a local drama school decides to perform their version of this local news story as their first play.

One of the things I loved about this novel also proved to be a weakness: the narrative style.  Catton relies on an omniscient narration that shifts between the drama school and the girls of Abbey Grange as seen through the eyes of the unnamed saxophone instructor.  Sounds simple enough, yes?  The drama school chapters use months of the year; while the Abbey Grange chapters are days of the week.  However, each chapter may jump back and forth in time or have several viewpoints from the same day.  It can become confusing.  Added to this is the unnamed saxophone instructor.  She is the novel’s downfall.

Having been both an educator and a music student, I am troubled by this enigmatic character (hereafter referred to as “she”).  She asks questions to learn more about her students’ lives; actually, she asks questions to attempt control of her students’ lives.  She is especially interested in the characters of Julia and Isolde and encouraging a lesbian relationship between them which parallels the implied one she has with her former instructor, Patsy.  But Patsy is now married, and their past relationship is unclear because what we hear from she is sometimes questionable.  This ambiguity reaches a climax in Chapter 13 when a conversation between Julia and Isolde ends with this confusing passage:

Julia steps forward and kisses her on the mouth, and all in an instant they’re back in the smoky fug of the bar, and the last number is playing, the last song…Patsy turns to the saxophone teacher to say something but whatever she was going to say dies on her lips.  Her eyes flicker down to the saxophone teacher’s mouth, and then the saxophone teacher leans over and kisses her, her gloved fingertips against the other woman’s cheek. (297-8)

Initially I felt it was bad editing; “they’re” must refer to the saxophone teacher and Patsy.  In her mind she is back with Patsy at a bar; however, an earlier passage when Julia drives Isolde home from a concert ends with confusion over what really happened.  There is the possibility that Julia snuck the underage Isolde into a bar.

She also has the most bizarre conversations with the mothers of her students.  Most of what she says to the mothers is insulting or totally inappropriate.  At times it states that she wishes to say something but only thinks it; other times this is not stated.  I do not feel Eleanor Catton has any concept of what a professional educator would or would not say.

Other scenes, however, are beautifully written.  One of my favorites is when a young drama student, Stanley, is experiencing sex for the first time.  “Was he supposed to undress her first, or wait to be undressed?...He had imagined this moment many times previously, but Stanley realized now that he had imagined the scene mostly in close-up, arching and rearing and heavy breathing and skin” (255).  When envisioning something it is natural to imagine from the outside looking in.  How is every sex scene shown in a movie?  There is a sweetness to this scene that is very real.

Will I look for more novels by Eleanor Catton?  Yes, there are strengths in her writing to admire.  I’d like to see if she is able to work with those more.  But this first novel did not satisfy me.  I was left with too many questions that I believe to be unintentional.

 Catton, Eleanor. The Rehearsal. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 2010. Print

Viola Di Grado...a new author of great promise.

I finished reading 70% Acrylic 30% Wool by Viola Di Grado on 14 February; it is powerful and darkly disturbing.  Although I have continued to read from A Voice From the Attic, finished listening to Sissy Spacek reading To Kill a Mockingbird, and started listening to Team of Rivals, I have not been able to begin reading another novel.  I do not like to begin reading a novel until I have written about the one just finished.  Writing about Di Grado’s novel is difficult…challenging…painful.

Many of my friends do not like reading dark or disturbing books; they explain the need to read for escape, for enjoyment…they want to get away from the real world.  I value any reason for reading, and there are as many reasons for reading as there are readers; however, I read to experience the lives of other minds, other worlds, other times.  I know what my world is like; it is not a world of whirlwind romances, passionate sex, or happily ever after marriages.  From my friends I’ve learned that marriages work because the partners work together.  I want realism in my reading – not dream worlds.

The world of Camelia in 70% Acrylic 30% Wool is the world of an Italian woman living in Leeds, England.  The weather seems to be a never-ending winter.  Her father died in a car accident, and her mother no longer speaks; Camelia and her mother “speak” through facial expressions.  They are suffering from verbal anorexia.  There are many strands to analyze in this novel:  hatred towards the father/husband, violation of women, multi-lingual communication – Italian, English, Chinese, verbal and nonverbal plus the language of clothing, and sex as a form of communication. 

Despite the hope that breaks through at moments, the ending of the novel is dark.  Camelia says, “…if you wanted a story where everything sounds right…You can fuck a story like that all night and have yourself another one…Use it to mop the bathroom, that story of yours, or I don’t know, to line the hamster’s cage” (199).  In his NY Times review, Stephen Heyman writes, “Your comfort does not interest her” and quotes Viola Di Grado as saying, “If someone reads the book before bed and then can fall asleep, I think I failed; literature has to make you stop sleeping.”

I did not finish reading this book before bed, and it left me feeling respect for the author but needing to keep my thoughts focused on Camelia’s world for some time.  That is the mark of excellent writing in my world.  Viola Di Grado was awarded the Campiello Prize (First Novel) in 2011 and short-listed for Italy’s most important literary award, the Strega.  This book drew me to the publisher’s webpage http://www.europaeditions.com/ searching for more works by Di Grado, and led me to explore books by other authors.  I have learned that some publishers never disappoint me.  House of Anansi, a Canadian publisher, http://www.houseofanansi.com/ was the first I began to respect as I read more and more of their books.  I believe Europa will also become a publisher to rely on for new authors.

 

Di Grado, Viola. 70% Acrylic 30% Wool. translated by Michael Reynolds. New York: Europa Editions,   2012. Print

Heyman, Stephen. "Pale Fire." NYTimes.com. NY Times, 21 Oct. 2012. Web. 7 Feb. 2013.