3 posts tagged “saul bellow”

BOOKS BOUGHT:

• McSweeney's #27--Dave Eggers (editor)
• The Bostonians--Henry James
• The Baron in the Trees--Italo Calvino
• Invisible Cities--Italo Calvino
• Civilwarland in Bad Decline--George Saunders
• When You Are Engulfed in Flames--David Sedaris
• Swann's Way--Marcel Proust
• Slapstick--Kurt Vonnegut
• God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater--Kurt Vonnegut

BOOKS READ:

Hotel California--Barney Hoskyns

The full title of this book is Hotel California: The True-Life Adventures of Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young, Mitchell, Taylor, Browne, Ronstadt, Geffen, the Eagles, and Their Many Friends.  That's a mouthful right there.  Although I don't care even one tiny bit about David Geffen stories, I like most of the other musicians mentioned in that run-on title.  In a fit of boredom, I actually counted up the albums I had by the musicians mentioned in the title.  I came up with 94, so this book was right up my musical alley.

Hotel California examines the Southern California music scene from about 1965-75 with a close look at the rise of the singer-songwriter movement and the country-rock genre popularized by the Eagles.  It was actually a pretty good book.  My only complaint was that parts of the book paid too much attention to Joni Mitchell's voracious sexual appetites.  I don't remember exactly, but I think she had sex with everyone in the title with the possible exception of Linda Ronstadt and Neil Young.  David Geffen was gay, but I'm pretty sure she tried to get with him anyway.  When the author wasn't keeping track of bedpost notches, he was telling interesting anecdotes about all my favorites.  He also gave Gene Clark his due respect and credit.  That right there is enough for me to recommend this book to anyone with similar musical tastes.   

The Adventures of Augie March--Saul Bellow

Augie March was a great book for the first 300+ pages.  It followed the titular character's boyhood and young adulthood in Depression-era Chicago.  Special emphasis was given to Augie's relationship with his family and his many employers.  Then Augie went down to Mexico to train an eagle to catch lizards, and it seemed like all the characters suddenly stepped into a Malcolm Lowry novel.  It was strange.

Augie eventually finished up the Mexican chapter in his life and went back to Chicago.  Then it seemed like Saul Bellow didn't know what to do with the story so he just had Augie marry somebody he met down in Mexico.  It was a disappointing ending to what started off as a very interesting, well-written book.

Augie March is considered a classic in many circles.  In my mind, it's half classic/half disappointment.  I liked the author's Henderson the Rain King much more. 

One Picture for Every Page of Thomas Pynchon's Novel Gravity's Rainbow--Zak Smith

Zak Smith got the idea of making a drawing or painting that represented what took place on each page of Thomas Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow.  It was a great idea, but the final result was surprisingly dull.  After about 50 pages, it became glaringly obvious that Zak Smith's art wasn't consistently interesting enough to pull off the project.  Illustrated became very repetitive.  How many pages can he represent with a black and white scribble?!  He was always sure to draw the sex parts, though.  I guess that's what happens when you let a pornographer make a book.  A much better idea would've been to commission a different artist for each page. 

I read Gravity's Rainbow about seven or eight years ago.  I didn't reread it when I read Zak Smith's book.  Maybe it would've been more interesting had I tackled both books simultaneously.  Maybe not.   

CURRENTLY READING:

The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman--Lawrence Sterne
Swann's Way--Marcel Proust
The Book of Yoga--Christina Brown

The best novel I read in 2007 was The Collector by John Fowles.  This was the most frightening book I've read since House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski.  It made me rethink the entire way I interact with people and convinced me I should never play the lottery.  Other favorites for 2007 include Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara and Henderson the Rain King by Saul Bellow. 

The worst novel I read in 2007 was The Yiddish Policemen's Union by M-----l Chabon.  I'd read and enjoyed all of Chabon's earlier books.  That's why The Yiddish Policemen's Union was my most highly anticipated book of 2007.  Unfortunately, it also turned out to be my biggest disappointment.  The book was flat-out boring without any of the charm or whimsy I'd come to expect from one of my favorite authors.  I hope Gentlemen of the Road gets him out of the ditch.

The best short story collection was No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July.  This was also my most pleasant surprise of the year.  Miranda July writes poignant and disturbing short stories as good as any I read last year.  Amy Hempel's short story collection is actually a better book, but Miranda July's takes the award because everyone knows Amy Hempel is a master of short story writing, but few probably expected it out of Miranda July.  She is, afterall, a performance artist.  When was the last time a performance artist had any talent?! 

The worst collection (short story or otherwise) was McSweeney's #22.  Sure, it was held together by magnets and looked cool, but the poetry chains fell flat and the Oulipo section was experimental writing at its worst.  Of course, it wasn't all bad.  F. Scott Fitzgerald's unwritten stories were enjoyable.

The best non-fiction book was Letter to a Christian Nation by Sam Harris.  Now I have a bit of ammo (verbal, I mean) for when people tell me I'm going to hell.

The worst non-fiction book was Led Zeppelin IV by Erik Davis.  This book was hippy-dippy garbage that had remarkably little to do with the subject at hand.  It's definitely the worst of the otherwise enjoyable 33 1/3 series and should be avoided by even the most die-hard Zeppelin fan.

The biggest waste of time was Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon.  Thomas Pynchon is probably my favorite author of all-time, but his latest book was an exercise in drudgery.  It went on about 300 pages too long and still managed to leave many of the key plot points unresolved.  I like a book that makes me think, but I'd rather read one that someone bothered to edit. 

The book that made me want to vomit was Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille.  If I could go back in time and not read this book, I definitely would. 

The best book title was What Narcissism Means to Me by Tony Hoagland.  I really wish I'd thought of that.

The best book written by someone on Vox was The Birthday Sonnets by Renee Zepeda.  I didn't understand a lot of the book, but it rekindled my long-dormant interest in poetry.

Here's the proof that I'm a literary sexist.  Krissy recently pointed out that I don't read many books written by women.  I decided to investigate her claim further.  According to my records, I read ten books last year that were written by women.  I also read six short story collections featuring female authors.  That gave me a grand total of 16 books written by women.  That might sound impressive until you realize that I read 87 books last year.  Even if I include those six collections, that means that less than 19% of the books I read were written by women.  That's a poor showing.  I've never consciously considered gender when selecting books, but I promise to try harder in 2008.  As always, recommendations are appreciated.

And here are some additional statistics.  Of the 87 books I read in 2007:

• 10 of them were non-fiction.
• 9 of them were in the mystery/crime genre.
• 7 of them were single-author short story collections.
• 5 of them were graphic novels.
• 5 of them were in the sci-fi genre (including 4 of the graphic novels).
• 4 of them were poetry collections.
• 1 of them was French pornography.
• 1 of them was a play.
• I also "read" two audiobooks.

August was a big month for books.  I've read eight of them so far and there's still a week left in the month.  The few books I have left are all saved for travel or are too long or boring to finish before the end of the month, so I've decided to go ahead and write this post early.

BOOKS BOUGHT:

• Fast Times at Ridgemont High--Cameron Crowe
• Four-Star Movies: The 101 Greatest Films of All Time--Gail Kinn & Jim Piazza
• Search Party: Collected Poems--William Matthews (recommended by Rad) 
• The Walking Dead: Book Two--Robert Kirkman

BOOKS READ:

• The Big Money--John Dos Passos
• Here They Come--Yannick Murphy
• Fast Times at Ridgemont High--Cameron Crowe
• Henderson the Rain King--Saul Bellow
• I Love You, Beth Cooper--Larry Doyle
• Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas--Hunter S. Thompson (book & audiobook)
• The Walking Dead: Book Two--Robert Kirkman
• Light in August--William Faulkner

As I mentioned in last month's column, I'd been reading The U.S.A. Trilogy by John Dos Passos.  The Big Money is the last book in the trilogy.  I enjoyed it more than 1919, but I must admit that I should have paid closer attention to my reading throughout the series.  By the time I got into The Big Money, I was so mixed up by the myriad characters that I lost sense of who was who and what they'd been through already.  Characters established in the first two books reappeared in the third and I thought they were new characters.  It made for confusing reading.  It was all my fault, though; I should have kept a character list.

Here They Come was my first Yannick Murphy novel.  I bought it because I thought it looked cool.  Yes, I judged a book by its cover.  It worked out, though.  Here They Come tells the story of a thirteen-year-old girl growing up in New York City in the early 70s.  It's a rare book that manages to be funny and incredibly sad at the same time.  My only problem with Here They Come is that it went on three pages too long.  I wish I'd stopped reading at the middle of page 247.  There's a perfect spot there for the author to end things.  Unfortunately, she took it to page 250 and I read right up to the end.  I have terrible recall for the things I read, though, so I look forward to forgetting those last few pages.

Cameron Crowe's Fast Times at Ridgemont High has been out-of-print for ages.  I'd been looking for a reasonably-priced copy for awhile when I found one at Half Price Books for $15 (you can expect to pay at least $40 online).  I grabbed it.  The book was a quick and easy read and far better than I thought it would be.  Most people are familiar with the movie version featuring Sean Penn and Phoebe Cates' red bikini, so I don't feel the need to go into much detail concerning the plot.  I'll just say it was a fun book and I really enjoyed it.  I'd highly recommend it...if you can find a copy.

I also read Saul Bellow's novel, Henderson the Rain King.  It tells the story of a rich old man caught in the middle of an existential crisis.  He heads off to Africa, gets a native guide, and proceeds to lose himself in his new environment.  There's a section near the end where the protagonist reminisces about the time he spent working with an old bear at an amusement park.  I liked it so much that I decided to record my first ever bootleg audiobook with my desktop microphone.  It's only a couple paragraphs, but it took me at least a dozen tries to get through it without flubbing up the words.  I'm not used to reading aloud.  I'm also not used to my recording program; you'll have to turn your volume up if you'd like to listen.  [NOTE: Although this excerpt occurs near the end of the book, it doesn't spoil the ending.  This file is only available to my Vox neighbors.]      

I made the mistake of reading Larry Doyle's I Love You, Beth Cooper shortly after reading Fast Times at Ridgemont High.  Both books examine the awkwardness of teenage life and the pain of the high school experience.  While Fast Times at Ridgemont High looked at things in an original light, Beth Cooper seemed like a tired retelling of stories I was already familiar with from far superior books and movies.  Adding to this feeling was the fact that Doyle started off each chapter with a quote from one of those books or movies.  He quoted American Graffiti, The Breakfast Club, and even Fast Times itself.  It just drew attention to the fact that his book was inferior to those classics he was quoting.

Don't get me wrong, though.  I Love You, Beth Cooper is a funny book and probably worth reading for those who are interested in the genre.  I actually laughed outloud a few times, which is a rarity for me.  Just don't read it right after reading one of the books it's ripping off.

I have never expressed an interest in drugs or the drug culture, yet people throughout my life have repeatedly suggested that I read Hunter S. Thompson's drug-fueled search for the American Dream, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.  I saw Terry Gilliam's movie version a few years back and hated it...even though I usually love Gilliam, Johnny Depp, and Benicio del Toro.  Well, I eventually got sick of people telling me to read Fear and Loathing.  I found it at a used bookstore, saw it was only a couple hundred pages, and bought the thing.  I read it in a day and loved it.  It was insane, crude, and hilarious.  I liked it so much that I went up to the library and checked out the audiobook version read by Ron McLarty (of Spenser For Hire fame--at least he's famous to me).  I loved it, too.  It's a perfect audiobook to listen to while driving, although I must admit there were times at stoplights when I felt the need to turn down the volume to avoid offending nearby drivers.  Good stuff.  I should have read it years ago.

The Walking Dead: Book Two is a graphic novel about zombies.  It continues the story told in the volume I read last month.  The first book was mediocre at best.  Book Two was even worse.  The story is ludicrous (even for a zombie tale), the characters are all annoying, and the drawing is flat-out bad.  The "artist" even goes so far as to draw the little girls so they look like 7-year-old hookers.  That's just offensive to me.  I won't be bothering with Book Three.        

I'm going to be honest here.  I'm afraid of William Faulkner books.  I'd read both The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying (before Oprah got to them, I might add), and I remember getting lost in the complexity of the writing.  Faulkner's words were often beautiful, but mostly they were headache-inducing and confusing.  Light in August had been sitting on my shelf for years, and it was time to either sell it or tackle it.  I chose to tackle.  I'm glad I did.  Light in August proved to be a much easier, enjoyable book than I'd expected.  It was still complex like the other two books, but I didn't have any problem following the plot or figuring out who was narrarating at any given time.  I got a lot out of the book and I feel like I'm a better person for having read it.  Light in August is a true classic.

CURRENTLY READING:

• Search Party: Collected Poems--William Matthews
• The Road to Wellville--T. Coraghessan Boyle
• The Last Judgement--Iain Pears