Literature Frenzy!

Short Story # 1: The Small Assassin by Ray Bradbury

2011-10-01T12:02:00.000-07:00

I really miss the summer when there was so much extra time to sit around curled up with a great novel. Now that the new school year has arrived, leisurely reading is not altogether pragmatic, considering the large amount of assigned readings and essays to write for my classes. Nevertheless, there is no way that I can simply abandon my reading addiction and now I just have to acquire a certain level of moderation. Instead of reading three novels a week like during the summer, I can read a bunch of short stories and perhaps one novel a month to fill the void. That sounds reasonable. Hence, the short-story reading meme held on Wednesdays by Bread Crumbs Reads is ideal for me.

After discovering that one of my fellow book bloggers Sophia is reading October Country by Ray Bradbury, I felt the sudden urge to take out my worn-down copy and read a few stories in the collection before going bed last night. Perhaps not the wisest decision on my part since I ended up having trouble sleeping afterwards. Bradbury is often associated with the Science Fiction genre (and for good reason) but his writing style often contains elements of horror and boy howdy, can he tell a creepy story. "The Small Assassin" showcases Bradbury's mastery of the craft with brevity, style and imagination. The problems that I have with most short-stories is that they feel incomplete on some level or just come across as a formal exercise without any significant purpose; that is, they tend to be completely forgettable. With Bradbury, this is rarely the case. He understands that he is working within a specific narrative framework and there is no time to waste with superfluous detail as opposed to a novel where it possible for the author to digress without harming the narrative. The same cannot be said for the short-story and Bradbury understands this impediment but he uses this constraint to his advantage instead of succumbing to literary self-indulgent trivialities. Thus, he is assiduously economic in his prose and as a result, the story flows consistently through its compactness, effectively building tension towards a shocking conclusion. Bradbury does not make the mistake of under-writing or writing too much, his stories are the perfect length. I have always associated Bradbury's writing with that of a classically trained musician who is able create a beautiful piece of music through the relationship between rhythm, tone and meter. I do not mean to suggest through this analogy that his stories always follow a set pattern with a beginning, middle and end with a satisfying conclusion where everything is wrapped up in a neat little package. He leaves plenty of room for interpretation but there is an underlying precision, rhythm and cadence to Bradbury's use of language; allowing him to maintain control over the material while slowly constructing fear and overwhelming tension throughout his stories.

I have not managed to discuss anything about "The Small Assassin" itself but giving away the plot details would ruin the fun of discovering this story on your own. However, I will say that few literary works have managed to creep the hell out of me. It also contains some very startling implications and convincing possibilities about its subject matter. It is a shame that Bradbury seems to have fallen into obscurity over the years and I'm on a mission to revive his extensive body of work so that more people can be exposed to his genius. Do yourself a favor and read this story (or anything by him for that matter) to understand why he deserves such high praise as one of the best short-story writers around.

I'm still here...sorta.

2011-09-30T16:45:00.000-07:00

I sincerely apologize for the inconsistent lack of posts this month although my absence is largely in part due to settling back into college life again and working extra hours at my dead-end job. Talk about hectic! The first couple of weeks have gone by exceedingly fast and now that my schedule is more-or-less settled, I can hopefully devote more time to updating this blog. On a somewhat related note, in one of my classes we are going to be reading both Mrs. Dalloway and To the Lighthouse. Score!

I had trouble sleeping last night and actually did manage to whip up a review on Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (posted below) and curious as to what others have to say about this polarizing novel. Or if you have not read it and just want to leave a comment, that's cool too.

Here are a few novels that I intend on reviewing soon:

Have a great weekend, everyone!

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

2011-09-29T23:13:00.000-07:00

"Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo..."

This novel has left me utterly conflicted. On the one hand, it stands as one of the most challenging pieces of literature that I have ever read (there were certain sections where I felt the urge to pull my hair out by the roots) and yet, there are so many aspects to admire in this richly ambitious, complex work: the re-writing of Irish history, religious discourse, powerful imagery, the intricate structure and style of language that reflects Stephen Dedalus's state of mind as he matures in age, the clever use of irony, along with Joyce's striking ability to write some of the most beautiful epiphanies. It is no surprise that plenty of my favorite novels tend to revolve around the "coming-of-age" story or to get technical, the bildungsroman; narratives that depict the emotional and psychological development of a young protagonist entering adulthood -- Catcher in the Rye, A Clockwork Orange, Harry Potter, Franny and Zooey to name a few -- and now I can add James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man to that list. Unfortunately, I feel inadequate in my abilities to thoroughly analyze this portentous novel and my review will only gloss a tiny portion of the surface. Only an extensive essay or dissertation can possibly do it justice and I am far too lazy to take on such task. Thus, I will merely attempt to formulate some coherent thoughts that hopefully serve to confirm the greatness of one the most important novel's of the 20th century.

Before I proceed, let me just state outright that it will be detrimental to one's enjoyment or appreciation of the novel without having a general understanding of the historical context because otherwise, one is bound to be extremely confused. The Penguin edition does a great job of providing helpful footnotes. Considering much of the novel focuses heavily on Irish nationalism and Catholicism, having quick access to this information will be one less problem to overcome in order to better access this perplexing work. Not to mention, Joyce is fond of using Latin and making plenty of obscure references to classical works that may not be familiar.

Joyce begins his epic narrative by using the Icarus and Daedalus myth from Ovid's Metamorphoses as an overarching metaphor for the artistic journey of his young protagonist Stephen, whose last name clearly resembles the latter: "And he applies his mind to obscure arts." For those unfamiliar with the myth, Daedalus is the father of Icarus and designs a pair of wings to escape from the Cretan labyrinth that houses the vicious Minotaur. In a tragic turn of events, Icarus flies too close to the sun, melting his wings and he falls into the sea to his death. Connecting Stephen to the classical artist of Daedalus is just one of ways in which Joyce develops his protagonist's romantic conception of the aesthetic self who is free from the forces of the external world and can finally assert triumphant artistic expression as in the famous closing lines, to "forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscious of my race" (276). Joyce is fond of using very selective and representative moments or more specifically, synecdoches to chronicle Stephen's transformation. The slice-of-life naturalism contrasts with Stephen's inner experience. Joyce lays down the conditions to be an artist in such a profound way through the use of language. Stephen's discovery of his artistic vocation; the ecstasy of standing outside himself as he soars like Deadalus into the unknown is inspiring as much as it is ambiguous as to whether or not he will achieve success. One could certainly make the argument that Stephen's rebellious actions and declaration that "I will not serve" is an allusion to Satan's pride, which let to "The Fall" found in Milton's Paradise Lost. Joyce sets up Stephen's martyr complex as shrewdly ironic.

Joyce's narrative structure and use of language is worth examining more closely. Initially, it is difficult for the reader to get a clear sense of Stephen's character. As the novel progresses these hazy impressions become more vivid as Stephen matures himself. The subjective and objective world collide, causing the specific use of language to change. It is only at the end of the novel where Stephen finally rejects Irish conformity and the Catholic faith that he can emerge with his own voice instead of being a prisoner to the omniscient third-person narrator. A most clever literary technique effectively used by Joyce. Stephen is the focalizer and the novel charts the growth of his mind over a period of time. However, Joyce's use of free-indirect discourse complicates matters because Stephen is not always the verbalizer; placing an ironic distance between the objective narrator and the protagonist. Thus, the impersonal narration produces an extensive amount of ambiguity. Is Stephen an artifice trying to escape a labyrinth society? Are the epiphanies he experiences authentic or ironic? Is his theory of art an aesthetic gospel or just egotistical nonsense? Is the villanelle indicative of artistic genius or just pretentious drivel? Is the novel progressive or ironically cyclical where Stephen rises from the epiphany only to fall? Most importantly, is Stephen successful as an artist? The overwhelming contradictions and irony in the text makes it difficult to conclusively answer any of these questions. Perhaps it would help if Stephen was not ambiguously distant but with no authorial intrusion, the novel is confined only to his perspective.

Joyce is intent on complicating matters further by using a dialogical framework with different types of language: Childhood fragmentation, schoolboy slang, dramatic action of dialogue at the Christmas dinner over politics and religion, formal rhetoric of Jesuit sermon, elevated language of epiphany, intellectual colloquialism of college students, magical language of folklore, formal discourse of Stephen's aesthetic philosophy and ending with the fragmented diary entries. It's no surprise that many reader's find the novel intimidating and downright baffling to fully grasp. Believe me, I feel the same way too. This is not one of those novels to read on a whim. It demands a dedicated investment of time and effort on the part of the reader. I would be hard-pressed to recommend this novel to just anyone because it seems to be haughtily directed towards a specific type of intellectual audience. If one can get passed Joyce's ostentatious style, there is actually a great novel here. However, if you happen to like a challenge or just happen to be curious to see what all the hype is about, by all means, take the plunge. Just don't come back and say I didn't warn you.

Read from September 19 to 23, 2011

It's Monday! What are you reading?

2011-09-05T09:25:00.000-07:00

Much thanks to Book Journey for hosting this weekly meme, which provides the opportunity to plan out a tentative reading schedule for the upcoming week and to visit other book bloggers to see what they have lined up as well.

This last week has been somewhat unproductive on the reading front because of work and other obligations. Nonetheless, I managed to finish Graham Greene's Brighton Rock and The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, bringing my grand total to 50 books read this summer. I am incredibly behind on my reviews and have been rather discouraged in my inadequate ability to offer any sort of insightful literary criticism. I don't intend on being the next Cleanth Brooks and nor am I trying to please anybody -- indeed, it is just difficult to shake the feeling of dissatisfaction with my writing. On a certain level, I do feel slightly burnt out from my intense reading experience this summer and also seem to have temporarily lost the ability to write anything of substantial value. Thus, this week I am going to take a slight breather to relax my mind a little but so that I can get over this writing dry spell. Instead of overburdening myself by reading multiple books at once, I will just focus on one book this week:

Incredibly dense and not nearly as inviting as To the Lighthouse or Mrs. Dalloway but Woolf's prose is still mesmerizing and keeping me interested to continue reading.

What is everyone else planning to read this week?

Summer is over...

2011-09-04T17:27:00.000-07:00

It sure went by super fast, huh? Much of my time was spent working and reading so it wasn't too miserable. On a positive note, I'm actually proud of myself for managing to read 50 books this summer as part of my Literature Frenzy Challenge, phew! Considering that my previous reading habits consisted of maybe three or four books a year (and this is being generous), I have really stepped up my game and don't plan on quitting the pace anytime soon. I was a little apprehensive at starting this blog a few months ago and still consider myself a newbie to the blogging world but I have thoroughly enjoyed the experience so far. Not to mention, it has provided the opportunity to connect with other cool and like-minded bloggers who share a passion for literature. I'd like to thank everyone who has ever took the time to read my blog and especially those few devoted followers. Feedback is much appreciated and your comments mean a lot to me! I have been swamped with work lately and sincerely apologize for the lack of new posts but for those who actually care, I have a few new reviews lined up that will be up in the next few days. In the mean time, I thought that it would be appropriate to showcase my Top 5 favorite books that I read this summer. Enjoy!

My Top 10 Books TBR this Fall!

2011-08-30T09:19:00.000-07:00

This is the first time that I am participating in the Top Ten Tuesday meme held by The Broke and the Bookish. I've decided to go back to school in September and with the heavy course load, it is doubtful that I will have the time to enjoy some leisurely reading but we'll first have to see how the school year unfolds. Let's do this:

The Waves by Virginia Woolf: She is quickly becoming my favorite author and I am eager to read everything she has ever written in her lifetime.
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy: Recommended by Satia, I desperately need to read more culturally diverse literature and this novel seems right up my alley.
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath: I've put off this one for far too long.
The Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene: Another one of my favorite authors and whose work I turn to whenever struggling what to read next or need inspiration to write my own stuff. I plan on hosting a challenge devoted to Greene, so stay tuned!
Our Man in Havana by Graham Greene: See above.
Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chobsky: I've got a crush on Emma Watson.
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemmingway: I'm not giving up on Papa H, just yet. Besides, it's short enough that I can likely read it in between all of the other laborious texts assigned by class.
Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald: Rich American yuppies living it up in Paris? Plus the protagonist's name is Dick Diver.
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer: The Jewish diaspora and self-indulgent post-post modernism. Sounds like a winning combo.
Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin: After reading the excellent Go Tell it on the Mountain, I have a feeling that that Mr. Baldwin will climb the ranks of my favorite's author's list in due time.

What does everyone else plan on reading?

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

2011-08-27T07:36:00.000-07:00

"There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."

After numerous failed attempts over the years to read this novel , I can now finally proclaim that the task has been completed without falling asleep or abandoning it half-way through! Phew. Upon further reflection, my initial lukewarm response has slowly developed into a general appreciation of the text. However, it still baffles me as to the exact reasons why Jane Austen's writing or more specifically, Pride and Prejudice has gained such popularity amongst modern day readers considering the estrangement of Austen's 17th century England. Her prose is delectably florid containing a wry sense of humor and clever irony although the style of writing is excessively ornate. A common criticism is that the narrative is often tediously dull (a fair argument that I agree with to a certain extent). In addition, the central love story between Elizabeth and Darcy along with the relationships between the other romantic couples comes across as insipid because they are based entirely on social decorum; thus, there is a severe lack of genuine emotional affection existing between the respected partners. From a modern perspective, the relationships in the novel must seem incredibly banal and antediluvian but one must take into consideration of the cultural milieu pertaining to Austen's time. Marriages were rarely based on romantic affection whereas other factors such as economic inheritance and the potential opportunity to move up in social rank took precedence. Austen keenly emphasizes various tensions between the established social hierarchy and the intrusively mobile class of the bourgeoisie. Much of the novel concerns itself with the dichotomy between old and new wealth -- the emergence of a more liberal society and the creating a new cultural identity that is shaped by all of England as opposed to just being inherited by the aristocracy.

How can modern readers even possibly enjoy reading this novel without a firm understanding of the historical context and cultural milieu of Austen's generation? To only focus on the various romances while disregarding the invariably social, political and economic concerns of the text is bound to leave the reader rather disappointed. It seems reasonable to suggest that many find amusement in the aberration of reading Pride and Prejudice as an entertaining fairy-tale romance where a middle-class woman is able to challenge social conventions by winning the affections of a rich and powerful man of the landed elite. As a result, Austen's pre-industrial England becomes a type of fantasy: a fashionable and elegant society where the only concern is to achieve a respectable marriage. With the lush and verdant countryside serving as the backdrop, beautiful women of modest means attempt to marry into wealth; they attend fancy balls held in luxurious mansions with the hopes of meeting and falling helplessly in love with Prince Charming, whom in due time will propose (in which the intended female will accept the offer with alacrity) and they will live happily ever after at his massive estate whilst enjoying the many privileges of the aristocratic way of life. Of course, the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy is far more complicated and does not unfold in this ideal manner as conflict arises between the social barriers between them as well as their own misconceptions of each other.

Pride and Prejudice is a deceiving novel because the charming heroine and the impressively lavish England she inhabits coaxes the reader into an imaginary world. The extravagant Pemberly estate is awe-inspiring to both Elizabeth and the reader. Consequently, it is a comfort to indulge in escapism, overlooking the perplexing underlying subtext. An important question to ruminate after reading the novel is, what does the union between Elizabeth and Darcy suggest? The juxtaposition between a feminist and conservative interpretation seems clear but which perspective holds merit? My viewpoint on the matter is that Austen cunningly manages to propose both simultaneously; that is, Elizabeth's radical independence and control over her own consciousness ironically affirms the propriety of social hierarchy, thus allowing for a new national identity to materialize.

Read from August 22 to 25, 2011

Note: Reading this novel completes several challenges:

Literature Frenzy!
Books I Should Have Read by Now
Bout of Books Read-a-Thon!

It's Monday! What Are You Reading?

2011-08-22T09:16:00.000-07:00

It's that time again and you know the drill. This meme is hosted by Sheila @ Book Journey.

Despite having to work 50+ hours last week including the entire weekend, any free time to sit down and read has been greatly diminished. I managed to finish Faulkner's As I Lay Dying but was hoping to get through Muriel Spark's The Ballad of Peckham Rye as well. Unfortunately, I had to return the novel to the library because it was overdue, bah. To redeem myself this week, I am currently reading several novels:

It is embarrassing to admit that I never read this much beloved American classic before and only getting around to it now. I blame the inadequate English department during my high-school years for not bothering to teach this novel. My lack of initiative to read this on my own time is also at fault.

Jane Austen is one of my literary downfalls and I have lost count as to how many times I have started and abandoned P&P. Surprisingly, this time around my feelings of trepidation has drastically subsided and I am actually enjoying the novel a great deal. Austen's prose can be haughtily stylized but the use of irony and social witticisms are humorously entertaining. Hoping to finish this in the next few days.

Graham Greene can do no wrong, in my humble opinion. Even his lesser works are still brilliant and Brighton Rock is shaping up to be one of his best. Pinkie is one of the more fascinating characters I have come across in fiction.

What else is everyone reading? Let me know below in the comments section because I am always looking for recommendations. Happy Monday everyone!

A Burnt-Out Case by Graham Greene

2011-08-21T13:16:00.000-07:00

"I feel discomfort, therefore I am."

In my reluctant haste to read as many novels as possible this year, I severely fell behind on writing reviews. Graham Greene's A Burnt-Out Case is a fascinating literary work that warrants an extensive review but alas, right now I can only provide some haphazard thoughts before any recollections of this novel slip completely from my mind.

Set in the harsh, isolated African wilderness of a Congo leprosy commune, the story revolves around a famous architect named M. Querry (an odd, if not deliberate emblematic name) suffering from a mid-life crisis who decides to abandon his old privileged life to start anew in a dangerous unfamiliar third world country where he can furtively remain an anonymous foreign stranger, or so he thinks...

The comparison of this novel to Conrad's Heart of Darkness is inevitable: the moral and psychological journey of a white man traveling by steam-boat up the Congo river into a world of the "unknown" governed by colonialism, but this is where the similarities end. Greene is a master story-teller and is intent on telling an exciting adventure story with an intricate plot and engaging characters. That is not to say that the novel lacks any substantial depth, on the contrary -- spirituality and metaphysical philosophy is a recurring thematic concern for Greene and forms the central crux of the narrative. Querry is one of Greene's most psychologically complex and memorable characters. His very name alone bears an uncanny resemblance to the word "query" and reflects the prodigious skepticism and doubt he feels towards the Catholic faith. Despite claiming to be an agnostic, his altruistic behavior in the leprosy camp seems contradictory: rescuing his black servant Deo Gratis lost in the treacherous underbrush, tending the sick with Doctor Colin or building a church raises the suspicions of the various Catholic clergymen who become convinced that Querry is an agent of God's work. His refusal to accept this point of view leads to extensive polemical religious discourse that is at times a little overwrought but does not detract from the flow of the story. A common motif in Greene's novels is to place his characters struggling with their faith as they desperately attempt to deal with the consuming guilt and regret from the past. Querry certainly falls into this category and whose past has a way of catching up with him no matter if he decides to isolate himself half-way across the world in a small leprosy camp in the Congo.

In contrast, Conrad's novel is far more politically motivated and overtly metaphorical in approach; exploring the nebulous depths of humanity through narrative innovation. Heart of Darkness may be admirable in aesthetic technique but it is incessantly dense. A Burnt-Out Case does not suffer from any of these hindrances and is enrapturing from start to finish -- a cynical reflection on morality and the endurance of the human spirit. Greene's keen insight into human psychology and the perception to understand our inherent flaws and desires is awe-inspiring; his uncanny ability to tap into the essence of what it means to be human with such pithy sophistication is unprecedented. He proves once again why is a master of story-telling craft and one of the best author's of the 20th century.

Read from April 12 to 14, 2011

Bout of Books Read-a-Thon!

2011-08-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

As if I didn't have enough on my plate right now...

Hosted by Amanda from On a Book Bender, I came across this challenge through happenstance and thought to myself, what the hell -- this is far too alluring to avoid participating. Besides, this event is a great opportunity to meet fellow book bloggers and learn to better manage my extra reading time around the hectic work schedule. Not to mention, this challenge provides incentive to reach my goal of reading 50 novels for the summer. Only 4 more to go! Here is a tentative list of what I plan on reading:

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Driver's Seat by Muriel Spark (re-read)
Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Let's see how I do.

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

2011-08-17T11:41:00.000-07:00

My mother is a fish.

------ Possible Spoilers! ------

Ostensibly, William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying is a solemn reflection on death and yet, through the use of dramatic irony, the novel actually takes on the form of a dark twisted comedy. Perhaps I have a morbid sense of humor, but the story about a family of country bumpkins from the deep south who decide to make the hazardous journey by horse and buggy with the rotting corpse of their dead mother in a wooden coffin just so they can fulfill the woman's dying request to be buried in her home county of Jefferson is comical in its absurdity. Not to mention, a little border-line necrophilia never hurt anyone, right? Referring to the scene when Jewel saves Addie's coffin from burning in the barn, it is odd that Faulkner describes the heroic act with sexual connotations; that is, suggesting some kind of metaphorical necrophilia: "Without stopping it overends and rears again, pauses, then crashes slowly forward and through the curtains. This time Jewel is riding upon it, clinging to it, until it crashes down and flings him forward and clear..." (212). Am I just perverted and over-analyzing the text here? Nonetheless, the novel is full of these underlying sexual implications and ambiguities open for interpretation. Jewel riding his mother's coffin with embers showering down around him seems like symbolically charged moment of sexual awakening.

Faulkner delivers a fragmented narrative that is more-or-less linear in structure; unfolding much like a dreamy haze where the reader must work through the ambiguity to comprehend the story elements through the given context. Faulkner's aesthetic is highly influenced by impressionism -- skillfully engaging in subtlety, focusing on brief confounded glimpses of conscious or unconscious thought and using elusive perceptions to create rich layers of underlying subtext. The emotional and thematic weight of this novel rests heavily with what is left unsaid or buried beneath the surface. Hemmingway's theory of the "ice-berg" technique of story-telling seems to be persistently employed by Faulkner far more effectively.

Faulkner's use of sardonic humor and irony serves two distinct purposes: social commentary by establishing verisimilitude of the rural south and intimately exploring various character's perspectives of death as they deal with their grief over the mother, Addie Bundren. It is safe to suggest that the members of the Bundren family are not entirely psychologically stable and prone to questionable behavior. Even though they often portrayed as country bumpkins, they also happen to be hard working farmers with humility living an austere life. Placing a value on the importance of family, the Bundren's intentions may not always be rational although they remain genuinely sound from their own individually flawed perspective. However, their obtuse and fallacious logic is a source of great comedy, leading to many humorous situations. For instance, When the Bundrens and their friend Tully attempt to cross a deep flowing river, their treacherous escapade unfolds much like a slapstick comedy: the wagon tips over and they struggle to keep Addie's coffin from being swept away by the current, one of the sons named Cash breaks his leg, he loses all of his precious tools in the water as the other men attempt to retrieve them and the mules end up drowning in the process. Throughout the entire fiasco, the youngest son Vardaman is on the other side of the shore feeling inadequate to help his family and suffers an anxiety attack. To accuse Faulkner of cruelly mocking these characters is debatable but in their arduous struggle against adversity to bury their dead mother, empathy is generated.

Furthermore, portraying the Bundren's as humble and simple-minded folk, Faulkner sets up the juxtaposition between the rural and urban demographic of Southern life. The traditional southern values are constantly under attack by outside influences. The author is an ardent defender of the struggling impoverished farm laborers and is rather blatant in his position. Cora, one of Addie's closest friends, is swindled in a business transaction to sell her cakes in town and yet, remains unperturbed over the incident because she believes herself to be a dignified Christian woman, saying: "The Lord can see into the heart. If it is His will that some folks has different ideas of honesty from other folks, it is not my place to question His decree" (8). Despite having wasted a large amount of eggs in the process, which happen to be a precious commodity during this slow farming season because snakes and possums have been repeatedly attacking the hen houses, Cora refuses to take offense to the rich town ladies change of heart to buy the cakes. Regardless of wealth or social status, God knows who is truly honest in the ways of the Lord and he will be the one to pass judgement for those who stray from the path of righteousness. Her friend Kate feels different and is critical of the upper-classes: "But these rich town ladies can change their minds. Poor folks can't" (7). Social hierarchy benefits the rich and powerful; it is commonplace for those of power to oppress and exploit the lower-classes to maintain their status. Faulkner's social commentary becomes even more prominent once the Brundens enter the small towns on their journey to Jefferson and interact with the wealthier middle-class. Upon arrival, they feel utterly estranged as country folk in this urban environment. Immediately treated with vehement disapproval and condescension, the towns people are appalled by the Brunden's social decorum of carting around a decomposing corpse on the back of their wagon. At one point, the daughter of the family named Dewey Dell, enters the town pharmacy with ten dollars looking for a doctor to perform an abortion. In her naivete, she expects to receive genuine kindness but instead, one of the employees attempts to deviously take sexual advantage of her as payment for carrying out the abortion. Thus, Faulkner is keen to emphasize the tensions between the innocently modest rural country laborers and the morally corrupt urban township.

The narrative is divided into 59 chapters; each focuses on a different character's perspective and not only from those of the Brunden family. Minor characters are also included such as Doctor Peabody (overlooking Addie's illness), Reverend Whitfield (had an affair with Addie and fathered Jewel) Cora, Armstid (a fellow farmer who provides shelter to the traveling family) and even MacGowan, the sexually deviant pharmacist. Faulkner's stream-of-consciousness style is far less disorienting as found in his other work The Sound and the Fury; allowing the development for a rich tapestry of psychological depth, along with the establishment of a convincingly vivid depiction of Southern life with its diverse inhabitants. The effective use of Southern vernacular with heavy slang and broken English aids in creating a specific sense of place. Instead of relying on a heavy-handed meditation concerning mortality, Faulkner takes a different approach -- infusing the narrative with sardonic humor and irony to explore various interpretations of death. One of the famous lines in the novel and quite possibly one of the shortest chapters in 20th century fiction, is a perfect example of Faulkner's skill to compellingly probe the consciousness of his characters: "My mother is a fish" (79). Vardaman is the youngest Brunden child and cannot fully process his mother's death. Having caught and gutted a fish the same day that Addie dies, he ironically equates her with the dead fish. A droll sentiment but also profound in its metaphorical conceit; an accurate psychological representation of a child who does not fully comprehend the complex ramifications of death. Another humorous irony takes place later on when Vardaman innocently drills holes on the top of the wooden coffin so his dead mother will be able to receive light instead of being trapped in total darkness.

The other family members have their own perceptions of death and ways of dealing with the grieving process. Darl represses his feelings until he eventually has a mental break-down, Jewel is hot-tempered and prone to animal cruelty to vent his frustrations. Dewey Dell feels the burden of being the only female of the family now that Addie is gone, is distraught over her unwanted pregnancy and turns desperately to God for help. Cash is only concerned with the proper building of Addie's coffin for her permanent resting place. The father, Anse, feels obligated to carry out his wife's final request but also has other intentions to visit Jefferson. Ironically, he also believes that she is better off dead instead of having to suffer being alive as an impoverished farmer. Faulkner even devotes a chapter to the dying Addie who who gladly welcomes death: "I could just remember how my father used to say that the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead a long time" (161). As much as Faulkner seems to be championing the rural south, it can be argued that perhaps death is generous deliverance from the hardships of such a life.

For those who find Faulkner intimidating or just downright insufferable at times (myself included), As I Lay Dying is an accessible introduction to the author's writing style and extensive oeuvre. The novel's ambiguity is challenging but leaves plenty of room for analysis and self-reflection concerning human mortality. This is the kind of novel that deserves to be read more than once to fully appreciate the subtle complexities and considering it is a great novel, I look forward to revisit it in the future.

Read from August 13 to 15, 2011

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

2011-08-09T10:33:00.000-07:00

"We perished, each alone."

The empty and decaying country house. Mrs. Ramsay's green shawl idly swaying upon the horrid skull on the wall of the children's room. The kitchen table lodged in the pear tree. Mr. Ramsay's boots. The drawing room-steps. Lily's blurred painting with greens and blues attempting to capture some kind of profound meaning. These are only a few vivid images from Virginia's Woolf's To the Lighthouse that will haunt me forever. Like a translucent dream or an impressionist painting that overwhelms the senses, this is one of those inimitable novels of such complexity, beauty, perception and pathos that transcends time; an unequivocally singular vision of insurmountable depth; a plaintively ambitious and insightful exploration of the human soul and consciousness. Thus, in my humble opinion, establishing itself as the apotheosis of great fiction and rendering the majority of literary works as painfully mediocre in comparison. Just the mere reflection on this novel causes tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat -- not that the story is depressing (although there is a pervasive melancholy of loss and uncertainty that permeates much of the text) but rather, Woolf has miraculously captured the perplexing essence of life itself with such insight, narrative innovation and poetic craft. This is not a novel to be rushed. Woolf's elegant prose and stylistic virtuosity of language should be savored.

My attempt to write a review of this novel seems like a futile endeavor and perhaps after subsequent readings, I will return and write more extensively on it. After reading To the Lighthouse, it is difficult not to view the aesthetic possibilities and the power of fiction in an entirely different way. Make this novel a top priority and you can thank me later.

Curse you procrastination!

2011-08-05T21:23:00.000-07:00

It is one of my great sins; causing nothing but guilt and anxiety. Ok, time to take more initiative and starting getting things done. Well, it is getting late now -- so tomorrow it is then!

Yes, I'm incredibly lazy when it comes to writing reviews. I also blame my strenuous perfunctory job for interfering with my reading and writing schedule. After getting home from an exhausting day, I'm far too mentally drained to do much of anything other than pass out. Nonetheless, I do apologize for those very select few who might be wondering when the hell I am going to post anything new. Unfortunately, I have to work this whole weekend but I will try my best to get a new review up by Sunday evening. Here is sneak-peak at some upcoming reviews:

Mind = Blown.

Huh?????

You've redeemed yourself Joyce, for now.

Teaser Tuesdays! (02.08.11)

2011-08-02T12:00:00.000-07:00

It's that time again...this weekly book meme is hosted by Mizb from Should Be Reading and anyone can play along. You know the drill!

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

I put aside D.H. Lawrence's Son and Lovers for the time being in order to read more from Mrs. Muriel Spark who is severely under-appreciated as one of the great authors of the 20th century. My teaser this week comes from her novella The Driver's Seat:

"One might be killed crossing the street, or even on the pavement, any time, you never know. So we should always be kind" (55).

This quote by the female protagonist lacks context but suffice it say, Lise is proving to be an utterly strange and fascinating character.

The Literature Frenzy Rating System!

2011-08-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

Before you ask, she's from Hitchcock's film Frenzy (1972). See what I did there? Anyways, this is a slight revamp of sorts to my initial rating system. It is time to get rid of those tiny asterisks that poorly represent stars and to further elaborate on my grading scheme. Please keep in mind that each rating must be considered within the context of any given review. For example, a two star rating for a particular novel does not necessarily coincide with a two star rating of another novel.

- A horrible steaming pile of literary crap that is to be avoided unless you happen to be a masochist or enjoy scraping feces off the bottom of your shoe. Absentmindedly staring at the wall for hours would be more productive.

- Mehhhhhhhh. Somewhat mediocre and disappointing in various respects but does contain a few redeeming qualities. Read with caution.

- A worthwhile read despite a few minor weaknesses that prevent it from being great.

- Excellente! A must-read that is well worth your time.

- A literary masterpiece. Nuff' said.

The Comforters by Muriel Spark

2011-07-29T13:28:00.000-07:00

Muriel Spark's debut novel The Comforters is an utterly bizarre and whimsically ambitious meta-fiction that is structured around the literary equivalent of the Chinese box technique: a novel within a novel, within a novel. Paradoxically, Spark is keen to emphasize the fictional aspects of fiction itself; utilizing a variety of literary tropes such as irony, satire, religious parables, parody and metaphorical conceits to playfully break the fourth-wall -- not only between the author and the reader but also with several of the characters of the novel (more specifically, Caroline) and the omniscient narrator.

Caroline is an educated woman and just so happens to have studied literature in college, possessing a thorough knowledge of the structural principles pertaining to the novel form. After leaving a Catholic convent, she begins to mysteriously hear voices in her head but these are no ordinary voices -- they take the form of a chanting chorus and the clicking of a type-writer, objectively writing down her exact thoughts at specific moments. Is this phenomena a religious miracle of God speaking through her or just plain delusion? Spark is purposefully ambiguous in answering this question, whereas madness takes on thematic relevance as many of the characters are fervently concerned with their sanity. At one point, one of the characters named Baron Stock, makes a profound observation about madness by asking a rhetorical question: "Is the world a lunatic asylum then? Are we all courteous maniacs discreetly making allowances for everyone else' s derangement?" (204). This is a question that the reader should keep at the back of their mind. Not only is the narrator unreliable but are all of these characters suffering from a mental derangement and if so, whose perspective can the reader trust with assurance? How do we really know that our perception of what constitutes so-called "reality" is true? There tends to always be a lingering doubt that everything is not as it seems. Read the daily newspaper or step outside and perhaps it is not far-fetched to believe that most people are utterly insane, operating under the false surmise that they have complete control of their mental faculties and are living in a sane world.

Caroline soon comes to the conclusion that she exists within a fictional realm of an unknown author's imagination. She perceives herself and everyone else around her as characters in a story: “The characters in this novel are all fictitious” (105). The concept of free-will and predestination is cleverly explored within this narrative conundrum as Caroline attempts to deceitfully outsmart the narrator's intentions by contradicting her thoughts and choices. During one such occasion, she initially decides to take the train to travel with her on and off again boyfriend Laurence Manders to visit his grandmother in the countryside. However, in an act of defiance against the narrator who is supposedly pulling the strings and dictating the exact trajectory of her life, she decides to take the car with Laurence instead. Perhaps it is ironic or an act of fate that the couple are involved in a serious car crash. Could this tragic incident represent one of Spark's many religious parables throughout the novel about the consequences of not placing faith in God? Maybe, maybe not. Similar to the works of Graham Greene (another great Catholic novelist), it would be reductive and downright misconstrued to classify Spark's work as evangelical just because of the strong religious overtones. She is a Catholic writer but her concern is not to create religious propaganda but to rather question, ruminate and examine the Catholic faith within the context of narrative fiction.

The outrageous plot is charmingly comical as much as it is baffling in its incongruities. The Comforters is a social drama and sardonic comedy of errors; a part detective and crime novel that even dabbles in mysticism. Laurence even suggests that Caroline has involved herself in a otherworldly story, abandoning Catholicism for a new religion commonly referred to as "Science Fiction" (184). His criticism is obviously meant to be hyperbolic but it seems as if Spark is cleverly winking at the estrangement of this novel: diamond smuggling, witch-craft, blackmail, conspiracy, superstition, Catholic dogma, homosexuality, incest -- this novel purposefully contains a plethora of plot devices that make for a wild and intriguing story. However, Spark is inclined to undermine narrative conventions; blending different literary genres, teasing the reader's expectations for a logical and close-ended story where all of the loose plot threads are resolved with a satisfying conclusion. To reiterate, she perpetually emphasizes that this novel is a work of fiction, exposing prominent and arbitrary conventions while ironically, attempting to ascertain a higher truth -- realism. With irreverent wit and a penchant for writing crackling dialogue, Spark not only focuses heavily on religion but also branches off into gnosticism, inner human consciousness, illusion and the precarious nature of reality. Spark frantically bombards the reader with a convoluted plot whilst juggling a host of perplexing ideas that is not always effectively balanced, although she redeems herself with the climax of the story that is craftily delightful. The Comforters is far more impressive as an experimental novel as opposed to a thoroughly enjoyable work of fiction with empathetic characters and an engaging story.

Read from July 26 to 28, 2011

Book Blogger Hop: 7/29-8/1

2011-07-29T09:22:00.000-07:00

It's that time again, put on your dancing shoes and groove to the Blogger Hop! This is a wonderful weekly meme hosted by Crazy For Books that brings together fellow book bloggers. Unfortunately, I have neglected to participate in the event for the longest while and now it is time to jump back on the bandwagon. This week's question:

“Highlight one book you have received this week (for review, from the library, purchased at the store, etc.) that you can’t wait to dig into!”

After reading Mrs. Dalloway and having my mind-blown to shattered fragments by its sheer awesomesomeness, I have been obsessed with Virginia Woolf and super excited to give To the Lighthouse another chance considering that my previous attempt 10 years ago ended in failure. Since then, I'd like to think that I have matured intellectually to appreciate and critically analyze literature. I feel confident that this time around, my experience with this novel will be much different now that I am more familiar with her style of writing. Thanks to the library, my weekend vacation to cottage country just got better.

Hermione has great taste in literature...

2011-07-26T09:35:00.000-07:00

Cuteness overload.

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

2011-07-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

Prior to picking up this novel, my only exposure to Virginia Woolf was a short-story for a college course years ago entitled Kew Gardens (in which, I possess no recollection of whatsoever), the film Orlando staring the always wonderfully eccentric Tilda Swinton (an utterly bizarre story taking place during various time periods with strong feminist ideologies and focusing on gender identity) along with a halfhearted attempt to finish To the Lighthouse, only to give up rather quickly in frustration. In retrospect, it is astonishing how much my reading habits and writing skills have improved since those troublesome early years of university life when I remained completely indifferent towards my English courses out of frustration to comprehend the material; bitterly struggling to tackle challenging authors such as Virginia Woolf and in retaliation, stubbornly resorting to insubordination. Ironically, only after dropping out did I begin to take an avid interest in literature and through intensive self-study, my passion for the written English language has manifested into pure obsession. If Mrs. Dalloway had been assigned by one of my classes back then, I most certainly would have tossed it aside as rubbish. Oh, what a daft buffoon I was back in those days!

For the longest while, I have purposefully avoided writing a review because without a second or even third reading, it is difficult to compose anything substantial that can possibly do this magnificent and profound novel justice. To simply reflect on the text produces a lump in my throat and brings me close to tears. What is it about this novel that is so intensely moving? A monumental literary achievement, Mrs. Dalloway renders the majority of fiction as perfunctory in comparison. The masterful prose, use of imagery and innovative style are contributing factors but the emotional power of this novel goes beyond mere aesthetics. Woolf takes on the ambitious task of burying deep into the amorphous and perplexing core of human consciousness in order to achieve metaphysical transcendence.

Similar to Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway is experimental in prose; appropriating a "stream-of-consciousness" literary aesthetic to explore the inner thoughts and feelings of the characters but the latter is far less alienating, maintains a tangible sense of intimacy and deeply emotional resonance that is not readily accessible in the former. Impressionistic and elusive in its narrative approach, Woolf is ambitiously subversive in technique; she radically departs from the conventions of form and structure typically associated with the novel -- ushering in a dazzling innovative reconstruction of narrative fiction. It is no surprise that she is often considered a revolutionary author. From the very first page, it becomes apparent that Mrs. Dalloway is not going to be a typical novel that plays by the rules. Woolf cleverly introduces the reader to the title character who decides to go out and buy some flowers because she hosting a party at her extravagant home for friends and distinguished guests of the English aristocracy. In a direct and simple way, she wily adheres to conventional story-telling: the female protagonist has an object of desire and in she will need to encounter various forms of conflict (inner, social and external) to finally achieve her goal. Yet, Woolf has no concern for a linear plot contrivances; life and human consciousness is far too complex to be restricted to stringent literary parameters. She is far more interested in examining the interior landscape of the human psyche; eschewing with the established objective worldview and plummeting directly into the jostled consciousness of her female heroine:

'What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was int he early morning; like the flay of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she was) solemn, feeling as she did, standing there at the open window, that something awful was about to happen; looking at the flowers, at the trees with smoke winding off them and the rooks rising, falling; standing and looking until Peter Walsh said, "Musing among the vegetables?" -- was that it? -- "I prefer men to cauliflowers" -- was that it?" (3).

The style of writing accurately reflects the ebb and flow of conscious thought. There is a specific rhythm to the words and syntax as the protagonist is overwhelmed by the capricious ruminations of flooding memories from the past. The extensive use of punctuation (Woolf is a big fan of the semi-colon, bracket and line-break where sentences can stretch to a full page) is effectively implemented to serve as a type of mimetic articulation of the wandering inner thought-process. A pervasive melancholy of nostalgia and loss is prevalent in these lines, which also permeates throughout much of the text. Mrs. Dalloway sentimentally mourns her youth and first love with Peter Walsh when she lived at Bourton. She even questions the dubious nature of memory ("was that it?"). Woolf tactfully explores the fallibility of memory and her descriptions of the past are vivid as much as they are beautifully elegiac. Thus, her style of writing can be disorienting in its perplexity because the unstable psychological construction of past, present and future simultaneously intertwine at a furiously mercurial pace. Although the novel can be appreciated on the surface level for its unique aesthetic merits, the narrative is built upon layers and layers of subtext that is difficult to absorb on a first reading. To further complicate matters , the novel is structured around interconnected sub-plots with Clarissa Dalloway serving as the main focal point. The inner psychological lives of these other characters is also examined as their thoughts surreptitiously flow into each other. Hence, my earlier trepidations of reviewing this intensely complex work, which is overflowing with an intricate tapestry of ideas and polemics that can be analyzed on so many different levels.

Much attention has been given to Woolf's social, political and economic commentary pertaining to England soon after WWI, with particular emphasis on the strong underlying feminist ideologies of the text. Personally, the most fascinating aspects of the novel is its philosophical interpretations, deeply rooted in ontology and the exploration of human consciousness. With intimate sensitivity and profound wisdom, Virginia Woolf has astonishingly managed to write what is possibly, the most beautiful, life-affirming novel that I have ever read. It is strange how I find it much easier to write about a literary work that I disliked or found to be painfully mediocre as opposed to one that completely floored me such as this novel where I can no longer view fiction in the same way ever again. Virginia Woolf possesses a profound grasp of humanity and understands life as ephemeral and fleeting. The pangs of unrequited love, loneliness, rampant insecurities, the difficulties of actually truly knowing anyone, the regret associated with the past and its influence on the present, the disconnection to the outside world, the oppressive exterior influence on the mind -- essentially, she understands what it means to be human -- flawed, self-conscious and desperately seeking some kind of meaningful connection with other people. Within these 200 pages, Woolf has penetrated life's essence through the power of language and the written word. To unpack this novel in its entirety is a daunting task and I admit to not fully understanding every aspect or Woolf's intentions but there exists a heavy emotional weight behind her words -- as if she has unlocked the true meaning of life and is carrying this burden that must be shared with the world. Woolf was ahead of her time and reading this novel was an enlightening experience, placing the painful reality of the cold, selfish and indifferent capitalist world into perspective for me. I read the ending as tragically ironic: despite the oppressive circumstances of society, there is still beauty and compassion in the world -- art, nature and genuine human connection can lead to a meaningful life. Unfortunately, no matter how hard we try, the majority of us will never be able to achieve this sense of tranquility because we are hindered by our own troubled consciousness.

I could probably quote the entire novel but here are just a few favorites:

"It was to explain the feeling they ad of dissatisfaction; not knowing people; not being known. For how could they know each other?" (152).

"It ended in a transcendental theory which, with her horror of death, allowed her to believe, or say that she believed (for all skepticism), that since our apparitions, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places after death... perhaps - perhaps" (153).

"She had the perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very, dangerous to live even one day."

All the same, that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was!-that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how, every instant . . ."

"Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely? All this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?"

"Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the center which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death" (184).

"For she had come to feel that it was the only thing worth saying -- what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One must say simply what one felt" (191).

Read from July 20 to 22, 2011

Authors I Loathe #1: Henry James

2011-07-20T11:50:00.000-07:00

( Boooooooooooooooourns!!!)

Perhaps I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning but after recently picking up The Ambassadors by Henry James, it did not take me long to realize that he now ranks as one my least favorite authors. Thus, I have decided to start a new segment on this blog that will hopefully encourage others to no longer feel ashamed to admit their vehement animosity towards any author, especially those who are largely considered part of the literary canon. Call me crazy, but I am under the impression that most people are not truly honest when it comes to their true feelings and opinions regarding certain literary works. They merely conform to the established general consensus in order to avoid a confrontation or be labeled a philistine. The chauvinistic and pervasive cultural elitism is completely biased; dictating the specific literary works and authors that are considered to be "great literature" whereas everything else should be avoided. Literature is far too multifarious -- spanning many different languages, genres and cultures to be reduced only to a handful of authors and important works.

The literary form encourages rumination and discourse from a wide variety of perspectives. It is blasphemous that someone who enjoys reading Twilight or the Shopaholic series should be chastised by some priggish group of pseudo-intellectuals -- literature is far too subjective. There is an endless amount of books to read and authors to discover that one need not always feel pressured to acquiesce perfidiously with the general masses just to avoid a confrontation. Read whatever you love and pay no attention to what others think about your literary tastes. Defend your opinions with well-reasoned arguments and stay true to yourself! If you find Faulkner's work to be post-modernist drivel, so be it. Life's too short to force yourself to read novels that you find deplorable.

Ok, that's enough of my rambling and it is time to get down to business: Mr. Henry James has successfully managed to become my literary kyrptonite and whose self-indulgent writing style reduces me to explosive fits of rage. James seems to take an excessive amount of pride in his wordiness but the incessant use of run-on sentences with subclauses is an exercise in futility.

Come on James, is this really necessary? There is no need for all of these endless descriptions, metphors and fancy wordplay -- get to the bloody point already! I'm only 50 or so pages into this novel and already feeling the urge to bang my head against the wall in frustration. His writing is insufferably discursive and this flamboyant style is so aggravating that it has given me head-aches. Not only is the prose ridiculously convoluted but the one-dimensional characters and languid plot surely do not improve matters. So far, James does not seem to deviate from this style and it is doubtful that I will be able to force myself to get through another 400 pages of torture.

A few years ago, I attempted to read The Bostonians but quickly tossed it aside due to my aforementioned criticisms. I struggled to finish A Turn of the Screw along with a bunch of his other short-stories/novellas including Daisy Miller and The Beast in the Jungle. Despite their iconic status and high praise by respected literary critics, these works failed to leave any impression on me whatsoever. I try to avoid using the "p" word but for James, I will make the exception: he is the epitome of PRETENTIOUS.

So, now I turn the question to you: Who are some authors that you find overrated, disagreeable or downright awful? Let me know.

Books I Should Have Read by Now: A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin

2011-07-18T11:22:00.000-07:00

"Power resides only where men believe it resides."

It's official: I am absolutely hooked on George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. To echo similar sentiments of my reading experience with A Game of Thrones, the writing is not challenging or profound, albeit, as far as fantasy fiction goes Martin is a superb story-teller and surprisingly, infuses plenty of metaphorical devices and even irony to enrich the narrative. He is capable of handling a large host of interconnecting subplots, creating memorable and well-rounded characters (Tyrion Lannister is now a personal favorite) and is prone to wily undermining archetypal conventions of the genre where everything is not always black and white. A sense of moral ambiguity along with suspenseful intrigue that is unpredictable proves to be a refreshing aspects of these novels. Above all else, at 1000 pages, the story flows smoothly and never drags; if nothing else, this series has proven to be immensely entertaining.

Martin creates such a fascinating and vivid world with a rich tapestry of many characters. Each chapter revolves around a specific character's perspective and now, civil war begins to unfold amongst the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros over the rightful heir of the Iron Throne. Initially, Martin's epic narrative scope proved to be disorienting with the first installment but with A Clash of Kings as the second novel in the series, Martin's style is now easy enough to follow. My earlier ambivalence towards the melodrama of the noble gentility has drastically subsided and I now find court life and the political strife to be most captivating to follow.

My only concern with this series is that the story is so colossal that it will eventually lose steam and end up in a perpetual state of limbo much like the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. For now, I am willing to give Martin the benefit of the doubt since he has allowed the narrative to take many unexpected turns but at the back of my mind, I can't help but thinking: Where does the series go from here? Only time will tell. Excuse me, while I continue to devour the third novel in the series, a 1000+ page monster entitled A Storm of Swords, which is already proving to be highly addictive like its predecessors.

Rating: ****

Read from July 04 to 10, 2011

Howards End by E.M. Forster

2011-07-17T23:24:00.000-07:00

“Death destroys a man: the idea of Death saves him."

There is no denying that E.M. Forster is a shrewd intellect capable of writing gorgeous prose but the problem with Howards End is that its pompously detached style and rigorously pedagogical nature undermines the actual narrative. This is a novel about ideas – the story is secondary to Forster’s exploration of various political, economic, social and philosophical attitudes pertaining to his native England at the turn of the 20^th century. Although Forster may come across as bitter and cynical towards his homeland, he also maintains a passionate optimism where perhaps there is hope for the future (if the ending is any indication). He provides insightful criticism and sophisticated observations of English culture especially pertaining to class warfare, gender roles and the rights of property. The novel succeeds as a highly polished academic treatise and with a new emerging social culture, Forster is greatly considered with many questions about the potentially new direction of England. More importantly, the novel attempts to figure out who and what particular social class will now rule this great land. Forster has a great love for humanity but fails miserably at delivering any sort of convincing or engaging story. While he should be commended for his crafty and introspective writing, he is often too clever for his own good, where arguably, the novel takes the form of allegory pertaining to social hierarchy: The Wilcoxes represent the priggish and superficial upper-class, the Schlegel sisters are the over-educated artists of the rising middle-class and the Basts are characterized as the naïve, hard-working lower-class. The soap-opera melodrama that involves these different factions of society is illogical in its design; merely serving as a platform for Forster to implement metaphorical conceits and heavy symbolism of vastly interpretative meanings. Thus, such a novel is daunting in its ambitious scope but I found Forster's haughty writing style to be downright self-righteous at times. Sure, erudite literary academics are bound to drool over this novel but I found it to be an unsatisfying chore to get through. However, that is not to suggest that I vehemently despised the novel. There are certain redeeming factors but I still remain highly apathetic.

Near the beginning of the novel, the narrator smugly asserts that this particular story focuses on the noble gentility and harshly condemns the lower-classes: “We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet. This story deals with gentlefolk, or with those who are obliged to pretend that they are gentlefolk” (47). Is the narrator being deliberately ironic or just pompously declaring class superiority? The novel often utilizes irony for dramatic effect along to emphasize the subtext but sometimes this type of rhetorical device falls flat for lacking subtlety. Nonetheless, Forster does manage to effectively portray class distinctions with resonant eloquence: “The boy, Leonard Bast, stood at the extreme verge of gentility. He was not in the abyss, but he could see it, and at times people whom he knew had dropped in, and counted no more” (47). The precarious position of being part of the lower-class and falling into the “abyss” of obscurity is an apt observation. As the narrator previously put it, to be at the bottom of society's rank is to become “unthinkable” which is chillingly full of truth -- the rich stay rich and the poor remain constantly oppressed until they reach oblivion and are forgotten. Unfortunately, it is a shame that Forster’s insightful and wily charm is rendered mostly inconsequential by the the novel’s severe lack of a convincing or emotionally resonant narrative, which is painfully contrived. For example, the major tragic moment at the end involving Leonard Bast is inevitable but there is no emotional weight behind it at all and just incoherently happens without any genuine motive because this scene occurs only to serve as a launching pad for the author's political and social purposes. Granted, the way Forster utilizes conversation in many intriguing ways to emphasize the underlying subtext is worth noting but the pompous diction gets annoying fast in its obnoxiousness. The characters are incessantly dull as metaphorical constructs; prone to engaging in tiresome palaver that is cringe-inducing in its ostentatious vernacular. Did rich English folk really talk this annoyingly back then? I can only hope that Forster was parodying the vain and magniloquent gentry.

The novel’s most famous lines come from Margaret Schlegel who is thrust into a life of gentility by marrying the rich landowner Mr. Wilcox. She struggles to maintain her previous spiritual inner life as an intelligent and independent woman against the new social protocol she is expected to follow. Eventually, Margaret decides to preserve her self-identity and attempts to influence her new husband to change his narrow-minded perspective to save his soul from damnation:

“Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die” (195).

These beautiful lines serve as a major structural component to the story and Forster is keen to emphasize this theme throughout the novel: A meaningful life can be achieved without the blind-pursuit of wealth by connecting to people, places and art. Focusing entirely on capitalist ideals leads to an empty, vapid existence. Considering the historical context of the novel, Forster was surely radical in his ideologies for rejecting traditional conservative values.

It is no surprise that Howards End is a landmark novel of early 20^th century fiction that has been extensively studied academically because it is overflowing with ideas and complexities that can be analyzed to the point of no return. For instance, is it just me or are Schlegel sisters involved in some kind of border-line incestuous relationship? They clearly love each other but there are subtle moments that suggest they might be more than just siblings. They spend an exorbitant amount of time together, share the same interests as well as mannerisms and if they happen to be apart, their lives fall into chaos. Also, one particular line left me rather befuddled: “They passed upstairs, kissed, and amidst the endless iterations fell asleep” (330). The key word is “iterations” which perhaps suggests sexual connotations although perhaps I am merely over analyzing what is supposedly just two sisters enjoying each others company.

Personally, I would have preferred if Forster just wrote an essay on these complex issues of class, gender and politics sparkled with his profound philosophical beliefs instead of forcing readers to slog through such an insipid story. If I were take anything valuable from this novel, it would be some of the author's sagacious and elegant diction:

“It is so easy to talk of “passing emotion,” and how to forget how vivid the emotion was ere it passed. Our impulse to sneer, to forget, is at root a good one…But the poetry of that kiss, the wonder of it, the magic that there was in life for hours after it – who can describe that?” (25).

“We recognize that emotion is not enough, and that men and women are personalities capable of sustained relations, not mere opportunities for an electrical discharge. Yet we rate the impulse too highly. We do not admit that by collisions of this trivial sort the doors of heaven may be shaken open” (25).

“Life is indeed dangerous, but not in the way morality would have us believe. It is indeed unmanageable, but the essence of it is not a battle. It is unmanageable because it is a romance, and its essence is romantic beauty” (111).

“One is certain of nothing but the truth of ones own emotions” (178).

“Under cosmopolitanism, if it comes, we shall receive no help from the earth. Trees and meadows and mountains will only be a spectacle, and the binding force that they one exercised on character must be entrusted to Love alone. May Love be equal to the task!” (273).

Pick up this novel if you are interested in early 20th century literature but be forewarned, its slow and methodical structure requires plenty of patience to finish. Despite my indifference, it does leave plenty to ponder and discuss afterwards.

Read from July 10 to 14, 2011

Books I should have read by now: A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

2011-07-04T09:33:00.000-07:00

"Winter is coming."

Perhaps it was happy coincidence that Gabriel's challenge and the HBO series George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones piqued my interest around the same time. I have always been fond of the fantasy genre: The Lord the Rings, Harry Potter and His Dark Materials are amongst my favorite series of novels but my exposure to epic high-fantasy has been severely limited. I purchased Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series years ago during my fantasy fiction phase and even began reading A Game of Thrones but ended up abandoning it half-way through. My initial consternation was largely due my preference for fantasy rooted in mythology and the otherworldly as opposed to a soap opera of an alternative history political narrative about the courtesans of noble gentry. Not to mention, Martin's writing tends to be bloated, uneven and at times, laughably lame in terms of characterization and prose. However, this time around I was more forgiving and decided to put aside the stringent literary critic and just enjoy the novel as a piece of high-fantasy fiction. Suffice it to say, by the end of this 800 page tomb, I was rather pleased and surprised how entertaining the novel turned out to be. A definitely slow-burn narrative, the novel only starts to kick into high-gear around page 500 when the drama shifts to the political tensions between the different factions of the realm that lead to war. I'm glad that I did not abandon the novel this time during the slow sections because Martin takes his sweet time detailing this world of the Seven Kingdoms and slowly develops the many characters. Nonetheless, it is the intriguing story and rich detail of this world that make it such a compulsive read. A Game of Thrones may feel inadequate or unsatisfying in certain regards but this is only the introduction to the series and I am now incredibly anxious to read the rest of the books to find out what happens next.

Can Martin's novel ever be considered "great" literature? Of course, such a label is completely subjective and open to debate but I find it narrow-minded that genre fiction is often considered a lesser form of literature. I doubt his name will appear alongside popular canonized authors like Hemmingway, Faulkner and Joyce anytime soon but to be honest, I would still prefer to read Martin over them. His prose obviously lacks the profound depth and complexity of those highly-respected authors but the man is gifted at writing a great story filled with a plethora of amusing characters, intricate plots and counter-plots along with a fascinating world containing such a rich background of history. Where Martin lacks in brevity and ornamental prose, he makes up for it ten-fold in sheer epic narrative scope. I have always turned to the fantasy genre as a form of escapism; an outlet for losing myself in a mystical reality where the imagination is given free reign: Martin's A Game of Thrones not only provides that opportunity but sets up what could potentially be a landmark fantasy series.

On a side-note, the HBO series adaptation is wonderful and perhaps even better than the book! Season 2 can't come soon enough!

Rating: ****

Read from June 26 to July 01, 2011

The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene

2011-06-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

"Hope was an instinct only the reasoning human mind could kill. An animal never knew despair."

Curse you procrastination! Regretfully, I should have written a review soon after finishing this wonderful novel by my favorite author or at the very least, jotted down some notes because my poor memory is preventing me from writing anything substantial that would even remotely do The Power and the Glory justice. I plan on reading it again in the not too distant future in order to present a proper analysis of the dense complexities and religious theodicy of Graham's text. In comparison to the other three novels that I have read by Greene (The Quiet American, The End of the Affair, and A Burnt-out Case), The Power and the Glory was by far the most depressing, elusive, inscrutable and dare I say it, the least enjoyable reading experience of them all. I wonder if my initial reaction would have proven different if this happened to be the first novel that I have ever read by Graham? Nonetheless, having grown accustomed to his writing style and thematic concerns, I could not help but feel slightly underwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, Graham is still in top form and this novel is easily better than most of the tripe written these days but it will require a much closer-reading to sufficiently comprehend and appreciate the elaborate tapestry of the intricate religious ideologies addressed in the novel.

Certainly the most deeply religious of Greene's work that I have encountered thus far, the story involves an unnamed renegade Catholic "Whisky-priest" who is being hunted down by local authorities in Mexico for practicing the religion where anti-Catholic legislation is in full effect. Greene is prone to depicting characters struggling with their own morality and faith and in this novel, the whiskey-priest's dilemma is by far the most religiously complex. The concept of grace along with striving to obtain salvation plague the priests conscious as he travels the severely destitute villages of Mexico to preach the gospel. These communities are plagued by starvation, disease and death. What kind of significant difference can the priest hope to make in the lives of these suffering individuals? He feels that he is nothing but a fraud because of past sins and yet, continues to carry out his religious duties. Overwhelmed with guilt, he even hopes to be caught but still continues to run and hide from the authorities, lead by a Lieutenant who is adamant to purge the country of Catholicism and establish a secular society. Greene could have portrayed the Priest and the Lieutenant as representing antithetical religious ideologies but he is far too intelligent and clever of an author to resort to black-and-white representations of religion -- moral ambiguity is a trademark aspect of Greene's writing. The priest is not the epitome of righteousness and nor is the Lieutenant the embodiment of unprecedented evil. Greene understands humanity with such clarity and his characters are never so unequivocal in their intentions; human beings are flawed and far too complex to be bogged down into rudimentary caricatures of morality.

One of the main reasons why I find Graham Greene to be such an exceptional author is that he is a master of brevity, his writing is entrancing in its lyrical beauty and profound wisdom concerning the human condition. I could quote his prose ad-nauseum but here are just a few passages from this novel that I found to be particularly remarkable:

"It is one of the strange discoveries a man makes that life, however you lead it, contains moments of exhilaration: there are always comparisons which can be made with worse times:even in danger and misery the pendulum swings."

"How often the priest had heard the same confession--Man was so limited: he hadn't even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization--it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt."

"It infuriated him to think that there were still people in the state who believed in a loving and merciful God. There are mystics who are said to have experienced God directly. He was a mystic, too, and what he had experienced was vacancy--a complete certainty in the existence of a dying, cooling world, of human beings who had evolved from animals for no purpose at all."

I may not necessarily agree with his religious ideologies and it would be fallacious to label his works as pure propaganda; he is far more interested in exploring the lingering doubt and contradictions towards the Catholic faith as opposed to strictly resorting to bludgeoning the reader to death with dull religious didacticism. The Power and the Glory may not be the most "entertaining" of Greene's novels but it is superbly crafted (the convoluted narrative makes sense near the end) and presents such a genuine and empathetic portrayal of religious sensibilities: that tiny shred of doubt leads to bigger questions of searching for the truth to live a meaningful life. What is the answer? I'm under the impression that Greene is intent on highlighting the power and glory of "grace" as a possible resolution to achieve enlightenment.

Read from June 19 to 21, 2011

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

2011-06-20T14:19:00.000-07:00

"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's."

J.D. Salinger is one of those authors who just "gets me" with his intelligent and philosophical discourse. This novel is overflowing with so many glorious passages that accurately reflect my own personal beliefs but he is far more eloquent in expressing these ideas in prose. For example, Franny expresses her chagrin at the paradox of conforming to capitalist societal norms in order to achieve success: "It's everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so — I don't know — not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and — sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you're conforming just as much only in a different way" (26). Salinger's cynical perspicacity is a source of comfort and just resonates me. Catcher in the Rye still remains a personal and sentimental favorite that is responsible for sparking my love for literature during those impressionable teenage years. Holden Caulfield is one of those iconic American literary figures that has influenced generations and in my mind, no novel has come close to perfectly capturing the cynical, neurotic, egotistical and self-deprecating voice of a teenager in all of its heartbreaking pathos. Thus, I approached Franny and Zooey with exceedingly high expectations and Salinger did not disappointment; in fact, he managed astound me once again with his immensely beautiful prose, psychological, religious and philosophical insight into the human condition. Even though this novel shares many similar characteristics to Catcher in the Rye with its self-conscious and highly stylized prose focusing on a coming-of-age story, it radically differs from the latter by presenting a far more deeply religious family drama. Salinger is meticulous in his writing with a propensity for infusing overwhelming subtle complexities to the story that is difficult to fully absorb and comprehend on a first reading. Initially, the novel left me baffled: what exactly is Salinger attempting to achieve here? The novel's mesmerizing style allows for a brisk read but the richly layered subtext is easy to overlook. Only after subsequent closer readings will the intricate underlying thematic richness of the text become more apparent. Rarely do I come across an author who uses subtlety in such a fastidious complex way that enriches the story instead for merely aesthetic purposes to create superfluous ambiguity (I'm looking at you Faulkner). Salinger begins in medias res and is not interested in providing incessant exposition to explain story events. It is mostly through the ironic omniscient narrator and dialogue between characters where the narrative context materializes.

Divided into two sections (respectively titled Franny and Zooey), the first part focuses on Franny Glass, a pensively sophisticated college student who meets up with her boyfriend Lane to attend the Yale football game for the weekend. Ostensibly, their long-distant relationship appears to be satisfactory but it is through a letter she sends Lane that contains subtle hints that not everything is going well between the couple. Lane picks up Franny at the train station and they head to a diner to get some food and martinis. Much of this section consists of dialogue between the young couple and it becomes clear that Franny is unhappy in this relationship because Lane is a pompous and conceited English major who represents everything she despises about people; specifically, those individuals who tend to be phonies and pseudo-intellectuals with bloated egos. She also happens to be undergoing a mental-breakdown stemming from a spiritual crisis caused by reading a Russian religious work that was once owned by her deceased brother Seymour. She attempts to explain the text to Lane but he is far too preoccupied with his own selfish concerns to pay any attention. It is only in the second part where the "Jesus Prayer" becomes increasingly significant to the overall thematic structure of the novel.

Taking place entirely within the Glass family residence in an upscale New York apartment complex, the second section embellishes an odd narrative framework that is narrated by Franny's older brother Buddy who is interested in adapting his story into a "prose home movie" (47); that is, it introduces Franny's other brother Zooey and mother Bessie as they both attempt to make sense of Franny's sudden psychological breakdown when she returns home instead of spending time with Lane during the weekend. The narrative perspective shifts to Zooey where a fragmented portrait of the Glass family history and the novel's theological implications take precedence. Much of the story is influenced by literary dramatic conventions -- the setting of confined spaces, the use heavy dialogue as Zooey engages in both trivial and profound conversations with his mother and sister. The exaggerated tone and style further establish the sense of drama. Salinger is keen on exploring the nature of acting, especially pertaining to human connections and the role of "performing" specific roles; thus, the tendency to project various facades instead of being genuinely honest about oneself. Not only are Franny and Zooey actors themselves but Salinger goes on further to suggest that the aesthetic of acting carries religious connotations as well; a type of spiritual practice with its own theodicy: "detachment", "desiring" and "cessation from all hankerings" (198).
Zooey engages in a complex religious debate with Franny about her improper use of the "Jesus Prayer" where religious doctrine and syncretism are in direct conflict. Why is he so upset about Franny's use of the prayer? For him, one must understand Jesus first and Franny is not being specific enough; she is paying no attention to who Jesus is and what it means to pray to him (169). In essence, she is merely acting out the role of a pious Christian instead of being truly devout in her religious convictions.

Personally, one of the most remarkable and emotionally moving moments in the entire novel takes places near the end when Zooey enters his dead brother Seymour’s old room that he once shared with Buddy; a holy place where he undertakes a religious ritual before entering. Placing a handkerchief over his head (a substitute for a yamika perhaps?), he venerates the room of his two older brothers. He notices beaver-boards of panels with a plethora of quotations from Seymour and Buddy’s favorite theologians, artists and authors. These existential and religious quotes further emphasize the novel's own religious philosophies pertaining to both doctrine and syncretism. Zooey discovers Seymour's diary and reads a passage describing the celebration of a birthday party that his family throws for him involving a vaudeville act and it is full of overwhelming joy and love but also contains immense sadness. Salinger is so skilled at creating such pathos with subtle nuances.

Franny and Zooey is one of those novels that I can't wait to revisit it again and unravel its many mysteries. Literature does not get much better than this, folks.

Read from June 17 to 19, 2011

Martian Time-Slip by Philip K. Dick

2011-06-19T19:03:00.000-07:00

After having read several excellent novels by the consistently brilliant Philip K. Dick, Martian Time-Slip turned out to be the first disappointment of his large oeuvre that failed to leave any indelible impression on me. Oddly enough, I have grown to enjoy PKD's uneven rambling prose because it is often counter-balanced by bizarre and always fascinating concepts along with deeply profound religious and philosophical ideas. Ironically, this novel is actually contains a narrative structure and style that is far less jarring than his other works but ends up being the least noteworthy due to the familiar subject matter that comes across as a weak rehash as opposed to giving new form to these ideas, which he is able to achieve with some of his best novels including A Scanner Darkly, Ubik and A Scanner Darkly. Mental illness, reality, gnosticism, salvation, drug abuse, time and death are all important concerns for PKD, which constantly crop up in his novels but with Martian Time-Slip, many of these ideas are drastically undermined by the thin story and dull characters.

Taking place during the early colonization period of Mars, a repair man named Jack Bohlen crosses paths with a powerful Union representative and his mistress who all find their lives influenced by a strange autistic child named Manfred who seems to hold the answers to the future. To make troubles worse, Jack suffers from schizophrenia and Manfred has the ability to time travel and bring others with him. Colonial life is difficult with water being scarce and people desperately suffering from loneliness with housing establishments being scattered amongst the harsh arid environment. Seriously now, this premise is brilliant with so much potential for greatness but the story never fully materializes towards a satisfying conclusion. There are also some other sub-plots involving secondary characters but they too are rendered inconsequential. On a more positive note, Dick does provide some interesting social commentary regarding the evils of capitalism, colonization and the flawed education system. Furthermore, the overt sexism and racial bigotry are a tad excessive and laughably passé although I suppose one must take into account that the novel was written during the 1960's. Despite my unabashed love for this author, I can only recommend this novel to hardcore PKD fans.

Read from June 07 to 17, 2011

I'm baaaaaack...

2011-06-17T17:06:00.000-07:00

Either play the game, or get played. Ya, feel me?

Not that anyone noticed, haha. I took a little mini-break from reading to pick up more shifts at work and have been full absorbed by HBO's The Wire, which is now my favorite show ever. An epic mosaic of Baltimore with strong political and social convictions as the government and police try to deal with the increasing violence spurned by the dominant drug trafficking and gangs battling over street corners. The show's sense of moral ambiguity is one of its many noteworthy aspects because nothing is ever black and white. Who are the real good and bad guys here? Are the cops and law enforcement more corrupt than the actual criminals they are trying to apprehend? There is something genuinely authentic and raw about the documentary-like film-making style that effectively captures a sense of intimacy unlike many of these cop dramas on television like C.S.I. which tend to be overly-stylized, entirely formulaic and lack any significant substance. The Wire is riveting in its drama and very entertaining but also contains plenty of humor despite the serious subject matter. It deals with relevant social and political issues in such an intelligent and complex way that produces plenty of discussion. In terms of narrative, creator David Simon and his co-writers have eschewed from keeping each episode self-contained as is a common feature in many network crime shows: There is a crime, the detectives solve it and it ends. Rinse and repeat. The Wire is unique in that it is one long story and each episode builds the story filled with many sub-plots and fascinating characters that are all connected in some way. The narrative and character progressions from Season 1 to 5 is utterly remarkable. The Wire sets the bar so high as to what television shows can achieve in terms of sheer story-telling and scope, rendering the majority of other shows as utterly pedestrian and worthless.

Ok, getting back to literature. I finished reading PKD's Martian-Time Slip so expect a review in the next few days. I also picked up a bunch of new books from my favorite book store today:

Total: $10. Such a score!

Teaser Tuesdays!

2011-06-07T12:38:00.000-07:00

It's that time again! Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly meme held by MizB from Should be Reading.

Anyone can play along!

Grab a book you are reading.
Open to a random page and pull two sentences.
Post the book title, author, and page number.
No spoilers, please.

My teaser: "Better to succumb to the schizophrenic process, join the rest of the world. She raised the window shade; the sunlight, with its familiar reddish, dusty tinge, filled her sight and made it impossible to see" (1). - The Martian-Time Slip by Philip K. Dick

Whenever I am in a reading slump, I can always count on PKD to remedy the situation.

Books I Should Have Read by Now: How to Be Good by Nick Hornby

2011-06-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

"It seems to me now that the plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone; you don't need to be a heroin addict or a performance poet to experience extremity. You just have to love someone."

Oh, Nick Hornby, how the mighty have fallen. There was a time when you were my favorite author and even though I still consider High-Fidelity and About a Boy contemporary masterpieces, everything else I have read by you drastically pales in comparison: How to Be Good follows this inauspicious trend. Similar to my grievances with A Long Way Down, this novel attempts to deal with serious subject matter (in this case, morality and spiritual reverence) but is encumbered by its own unsettled ideologies. Thus, the attempt to provide a thought-provoking religious parable loses all relevance and is rendered moot. What should have been a profoundly insightful and emotionally resonant story about trying to live a meaningful and moral life becomes innocuous and utterly forgettable. Despite the novel's many shortcomings, Hornby's enticing writing style does make it an easy read and for the first time in his career as an author, he is capable of effectively depicting a convincing female first person narrator. Katie Carr is no Rob Gordon or Will Freeman but she is intriguing enough to prove that Hornby is not strictly bound to writing from the male point of view.

I have always admired Hornby's trenchant witticism and sardonic humor; the empathetic portrayal of genuine human relationships in all of their contradictions and complexities; his introspective and pithy observations of human experience along with an authentic portrait of the 20th and 21st century zeitgeist. How to be Good does possess many of these trademark qualities but is not nearly compelling as expected from an author with such talent.

As the first book in my participation with Gabriel's challenge, it is with great chagrin that this novel will not be making the shelf and shall be donated. I am under the impression that Hornby set the bar exceedingly high for himself with High-Fidelity and About a Boy that he will be unable to write anything else that can possibly reach the caliber of these two brilliant novels. Oh well, at least we will always have them to remember him by.

Read from June 01 to 06, 2011

Book Blogger Hop!

2011-06-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

My apologies for being late for the Book Blogger Hop party because of stupid work, ugh. Crazy-For-Books hosts this wonderful weekly event on Fridays where other bloggers have the opportunity to connect with others who share a similar passion for literature. It's a great venue for book lovers so please check it out! Question of the week: What is your favorite post from last month and why it is close to your heart?

Oh, that's an easy one. My contribution to Gabriel's Wicked Wednesday where I wrote a short creative writing piece based on A Clockwork Orange and The Sound and the Fury, which can be found here. Technically, this post shouldn't count since it was written on June 1st but I am much prouder of this write-up than anything any of my reviews posted in the month of May. It has been a long time since I have actually sat down and attempted to write any type of fiction and taking on this particular challenge provided me with the inspiration to start writing more often. Thanks Gabe!

My Antonia by Willa Cather

2011-06-02T20:38:00.000-07:00

"Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past."

This was one of those novels assigned in my grade 12 high-school English class that I did not bother to read and in retrospect, I do not regret my decision. If only I had the foresight to not pick it up 10 years later because it was completely disappointing. I can understand its status as an American Classic within a historical context, but there was nothing within the narrative that struck me as exceptionally memorable. Cather is able to successfully create a vivid portrait of prairie life in Nebraska during the late 1800's to the early part of the 20th century but the interminable descriptions of nature and the rural environment are excessively tedious.

Unfortunately, the story is exceptionally dull with bland characters. Jim Burden nostalgically narrates his experience of growing up as a young boy on his grandparent's farm and his relationship with the an immigrant Bohemian farm-girl named Antonia except his story comes across as painfully insubstantial. There are moments of lyrical beauty (such as the above quote) but these moments are rare. The novel's concern with allegory, feminism, sexuality and autobiography vs. fiction would be topics of interest for those concerned with performing an in-depth analysis but I remain far too indifferent towards Cather's novel to engage in such literary criticism.

Read from May 28 to 31, 2011

Books to Movie Challenge!

2011-06-01T21:54:00.000-07:00

I just could not pass up the opportunity to participate in this exciting book challenge hosted by Two Bibliomaniacs despite my previous commitment to other challenges and my propensity to procrastinate. Nevertheless, I like to think of myself killing two birds with one stone (a cruel idiom if I may say so myself) by taking on this particular challenge considering that I have recently read several novels that have been adaptated into films and was eventually going to watch them anyways. Here is my viewing schedule:

Solaris (Soderbergh, 2002)
The Big Sleep (Hawks, 1946)
Pride and Prejudice (2005)
To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
The Prime of Miss Brodie (Neame, 1969)
The Ninth Configuration (Blatty, 1980)

More to come...

Wild Card Wednesday!

2011-06-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

Gabriel Reads is hosting a nifty weekly blogging event that seems like a lot fun. He provides a literary question where fellow bloggers offer responses and have the opportunity showcase their creative talents. I do apologize if my write-up is a bit long.

This week's prompt: Choose one of your favorite characters and one of your least favorite characters. Now pretend they're going on a road trip. What's the destination and how do they interact?

I have decided to go with literary works that I have read in the last few months:

Favorite character: Alex (A Clockwork Orange)

Least favorite character: Quentin Compson (The Sound and the Fury)

Destination: Yoknapatawpha County (Mississippi)

Despite feeling reluctant of returning to a life of depravity, Alex eventually bows to peer-pressure and agrees to join his new droogs, Bully, Len and Rick to itty a malenky trip to the deep south of Mississippi for some horrorshow ultra-violence, drecrom eegras, crasting and the ol' in-out-in-out with some grahzy devotchkas (apparently these Southern belles are promiscuous). Arriving six weeks later by steamship, they are anxious for some serious ultra-violence. Alex and his droogs first crast a horse and buggy from a nearby farm and then itty yecktating throughout the dirt roads hooting and howling into the nochy. The millicents are understaffed and not very active in this part of the county. Alex and his droogs are are still dressed in the height of fashion (pair of black very tight tights with the old jelly mould, fitting on the crotch underneath the tights with different shapes) and go around ransacking various barn yards to milk cows for their vellocet moloko and synthemesc. Once they are sharpened for a bit of dirty twenty-to-one, they are ready for a nocky of ultra-violence.

"What's it going to be then, eh?"

They soon come across an old drunken farmer stumbling and singing a badiwad southern tune that makes no sense as he makes his way oddy knocky along an isolated stretch of road. Pulling up next to the starry man, they crark obscenities at him such as as "trout" and "bratchny" but the pyahnitsa completely ignores them. Alex sits at the front of the buggy and holds onto the reigns as his three droogs maliciously jump on top of the old man and drag him to the ground. Alex looks on with uneasiness as they sabog him in the keeshkas and yarbles, fist his gulliver until he is unconscious and then proceed to crast him of the malenky cutter in his pockets. Regaining his composure, Alex starts up the horses and they leave the old man all krowwy by the side of the road. Soon, they come across a large plantation and glancing at the rusty mailbox, it reads "The Compsons" painted in a peeling red color. Alex decides that this place will be full of pretty polly and perhaps even some ptsisas for a horrorshow sod.

Devising a similar strategy used back home, Alex will knock on the front door, pleading with whoever answers on the other side to open up, telling them that he desperately seeks assistance because one of his droogs has been badly injured in the middle of the road. The other two droogs will stand out of sight by the entrance waiting for the resident to open the door and then barge inside. Bully, being called Bully for his bolshy big neck and gromky goloss has been designated by Alex to "play dead" in the road as he makes his way up the long driveway to the front porch and knocks rapidly on the screen-door. Even though the door is shabby and would not take much force to bust down, Alex decides to still go along with the charade. Alex sloshies the footsteps in the hallway going clack clack clack clacky clack and once the inner door swings open, a baboochka Negress named Dilsey dressed in a grazzy nightgown stands before him in utter shock at the sight of him dressed in his anachronistic platties. Quickly putting on a gentleman's goloss, a very refined manner of speech, Alex says, "Pardon madam most sorry to disturb you but my friend and me were out for a walk, and my friend has taken bad all of a sudden with a very troublesome turn, and he is out there on the road dead and groaning. Would you have the goodness to let me use your telephone for an ambulance?" Dilsey just stands there in disbelief unable to comprehend a word Alex is saying and puts her rookers to her rot to prevent from creeching at the top of her lungs. Alex smecks malevolently and crashes through the door followed by his fellow droogs as they clop Dilsey to the floor. She chumbles with tears in her eyes, repeatedly making the sign of the cross as they tauntingly hover over her plott. The only vesch they can discern from her speech is, "You vilyuns!" Whut you do any of yo devilment fur?" The other two droogs Len and Rick begin to tolchock and pull the voloss of the baboochka until she is crying out in agony. Her night-gown is razrezed as they they drag her into the dining room and Bully follows with a bolshy smeck on his litso. A young negro named Lester is cowering in a corner, holding his knees and oscillating back and forth. They completely ignore him.

Suddenly, the patriarch of the family, Mr. Compson appears through the kitchen door with a shotgun and fires at Len and Rick only to miss and blast a hole through the wall behind them. Acting quickly, Bully charges Mr. Compson and tolchecks him over before the old man can get another shot off. The gun goes flying across the room to the foot of Alex who picks it up but skorry feels nauseous and must steady himself in one of the chairs at the bolshy dining table. His droogs look at him dubiously but shrug it off and proceed to quiet the screaming Dilsey by stuffing some of her razrezed clothing into her litso, tolchocking Mr. Compson until he is krovvy and eventually zasnooting. Bully and Len run bezoomny upstairs jumping up and down singing dirty slovos while Rick drags Dilsey into the kitchen for some sladky lubbilubbing. Distraught and still feeling ill, all Alex can do is sit holding his stomach in pain and stare fixedly at the young black boy terrified in the corner before passing out with his head on the the table.

Alex is awakened by the gromky sloshing of Bully of Len calling his name and howling slovos as they come down the stairs holding onto a pale baboochka with tears streaming down her face (Mrs. Compson) a pretty devotchka with firm groodies (Caddy), an autistic man-child holding his yarbles and drooling over himself (Benjy). Following slowly behind them is a silent and stoic young man mumbling to himself as he stares blankly into the abyss (Quentin). 'We was worried about you Alex,' said Bully. 'Rick here say we should let you sleep it off while we took care of the rest of em. Take a look at this slobbering veck!' He was filled with joy and made the old lip music and even Alex could not help but smeck.

'My appy polly loggies' Alex says, carefully. 'I had something of a pain in me gulliver so had to sit down for a while. It must have been the moloko.' Looking up slowly, he smots at Rick staring at him and sitting silently in the corner skillfully maneuvering a nozh between his fingers with a sneer of derision plastered on his litso. The young black boy is nowhere in sight. His throat dry, Alex asks Rick in a raspy voice, What happened to the malenky negro? A long pause and then Rick smecks and skazats, 'Don't worry little brother, all is well.' He motions towards the crowd of people in the middle of the room and Alex cannot help but notice how oblivious the young man looks, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening to his family. Mr. Compson is awake now but laying at the feet of his family holding his krovvy gulliver as Benjy huddles over him poking at his plott.

Poogly, the jaundice looking baboochka interrupted and said: "Damn you all! What is all of this? Who are you? How dare you enter my house without permission and hold us hostage. Wait until my Jason returns from town and finds you devils here!" Len laughed and shlagnicked her in the litso until her nose was flowing with krovvy. Outraged, the young ptitsa attempts to break free from Bully's firm grasp on her pletcho to engage in dratsing with Len for tolchocking her mother but it is all in vain. Still, the young man just stood next to his sister and refused to put up any sort of resistance. He was now looking up at the ceiling and chumbling incoherently. Rick got to his feet, smecked and then said to Bully and Len: "Leave the ptitsa. Take the lot out the back and have your way with them."

Mustering up all his energy, Alex says, "Wait. I'm still in charge here so you ain't going to be giving orders like that, Ricky boy. He struggles to get up and balances himself by holding onto the edge of the table. Pointing at the somnambulist young man, he says: Oi, who is that gloopy chelloveck?" The young ptitsa answers by saying, "That is my older brother Quentin. You better leave him alone you rotten scoundrel!" Finding his balance, Alex takes out his brtiva and wobbles over to the Compson family. He takes the shotgun from Bully and gives the girl a glazzy wink. Grabbing the veck by the shirt, he forces Quentin in the direction of the door by holding the brtiva in the other hand pressed against his spine. Bully moves towards Rick and Len on the other side of the room as the Compson family stays huddled together. "You droogs wait until I get back", Alex says before heading outside with Quentin. Rick guffs, waiting for the two of them to exit the house before brandishing his nozh and smecking at the Compsons.

A cool breeze passes across the fields and the sky is full of stars as Alex leads Quentin down the road to the tied up horses. Alex tosses the shotgun into the field and nudges him with the brtiva in the direction the driver's seat. "Get in, brother. You yeckate." Understanding the request, Quentin hoists himself up and jumping into the passenger side, Alex waits for Quentin to methodically grab the reins. The horses neigh and start at a trot before picking up speed as the two young men set out into the nochy.

"You don't govoreet much do ya veck?" Quentin does not respond or look at Alex. He continues to focus on steering the horses while mumbling under his breath as they travel across the dirt roads surrounded by vast pastures and crops. "Hey, slow down there brother", Alex says grabbing one of the reigns out of Quentin's hand. 'Let's govoreet for a malenky lomtik.' Quentin turns his head slowly with a look of disbelief and finally makes eye contact with Alex. "Maybe you will pony if I govoreet with a gentleman's goloss. Viddy, I made a mistake coming here, oh brother, and I am going to set things right. Take us to your local authorities so I can turn myself and my droogs in for attacking your family. My appy polly loggies. What I mean is, my apologies. to you and your poor family. Hopefully we can arrive back before Bully, Len and Rick can cause any more harm. Quentin noded in agreement and took hold of both reigns. Picking up speed, they turned right and headed towards what Alex could viddy was a small town with shining lights. "Quentin, right?" The young man beside him nodded again. "Perhaps that is it, Quentin. Perhaps I am getting too old for the sort of jeezny I had been leading, brother. I can't stay angry at Dr. Brodsky for what he did to me. Nevermind who he is, it will take too long to explain." What's your story, malchick?"

Suddenly, Quentin brought the horses to a stop and handed Alex the reigns. With an intense look, he began to speak but Alex could not fully understand what the young man was saying. Oh, the irony! Fragmented sentences, someone named "Caddy", something about clocks and incest, the old south, the civil war, suicide, a plethora of nonsensical stream-of-consciousness:

Caddy
I got in front of her again
Caddy
stop it
I held her
Im stronger than you
she was motionless hard unyielding but still
I wont fight stop youd better stop
Caddy dont Caddy
it wont do any good dont you know it wont let me go the honeysuckle drizzled and drizzled I could hear the crickets watching us in a circle she moved back went around me on toward the trees
you go on back to the house you neednt come
I went on
why dont you go on back to the house
damn that honeysuckle..

Why does he not use proper sentences? Alex thought to himself. Quentin continued with his rant: After they had gone up stairs Mother lay back in her chair, the camphor handker- chief to her mouth. Father hadn't moved he still sat beside her holding her hand the bellowing hammering away like no place for it in silence When I was little there was a picture in one of our books, a dark place into which a single weak ray of light came slanting upon two faces lifted out of the shadow. You know what I'd do if I were King?...

Befuddled and growing angry, Alex tried desperately to resist that old feeling of ultra-violence but Quentin refused to stop his interminable, self-indulgent, post-modernist babbling absurdities. ''Stop it, stop it, stop it" Alex kept creeching out. "Shut your litso you grahzny bastard, for I can stand no more!" "For Bog's sake!" Quentin paid no attention to Alex.

Finally, unable to take anymore of this chepooka, Alex took his brtiva from his carman and lunged at Quentin's litso. Krovvy flowed everywhere as he sliced at Quentin's gorlo and stabbed him multiple times in the tick-tocker. Silence. Alex never fully appreciated peace and quiet until this moment. He kicked the slumping body out of the wagon and it fell to the ground with a loud thump. "I'm cured" he said, smecking to himself as he turned the horses around back in the direction of the Compson house.

The End.

Teaser Tuesdays!

2011-05-31T09:21:00.000-07:00

I'm jumping on another blogging bandwagon hosted by Should be Reading, which looks promising. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

--Grab your current read

--Open to a random page

--share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

Be sure NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

--Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

My teaser from Willa Cather's My Antonia:

"I loved the spirit that could not carry out the sentence -- the error from the surveyed lines, the clemency of the soft earth roads along which the home-coming wagons rattled after sunset. Never a tired driver passed the wooden cross, I am sure, without wishing well to the sleeper" (94).

My earlier ambivalence towards the novel has slightly subsided but I am still waiting for Cather to deliver something in the narrative that is profoundly meaningful or memorable. It pains me to say this, but considering the 'American classic" status of My Antonia, I'm not particularly convinced as of yet since the story is relatively dull. I still have about 150 pages left so hopefully Cather can redeem herself as the narrative progresses.

It's Monday! What are you Reading?

2011-05-30T09:23:00.000-07:00

I'm conforming to social protocol amongst the reader's blogging community hosted by Sheila at Book Journey so let's see how this goes. I managed to read three books last week, which is pretty darn impressive considering my inherent laziness: Solaris by Stanislaw Lem, A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess and Flannery O'Connor's A Good Man is Hard to Find (and other stories). Solaris was a little disappointing and I am now curious to watch both film versions by Tarkovsky and Soderbergh to see how each director interpreted the novel since in my mind, much of the narrative seems impossible to film effectively. Thankfully, Burgess' novel redeemed an otherwise rocky start to the reading week and is now quite possibly the best novel that I have read all year. O'Connors work was enjoyable for the most part despite being slightly underwhelming as a whole. I recently started with Willa Cather's My Antonia, which continues my foray into early American literature focusing on rural communities such as the deep south in O'Connor's stories and now the prairie state of Nebraska with Cather's novel. My initial impression so far is lukewarm at best and I am hoping that the novel picks up with some interesting story developments. Even though Cather is able to paint a vivid picturesque portrait of the prairies, endless poetic descriptions of the physical environment tends to get tiresome after a while.

I'd also like to take the opportunity to indulge in a little self-flagellation and congratulate myself for reading 32 novels so far this year with 27 of them read since the beginning of April. Woot! Woot! Not bad for someone who never took an avid interest in literature until now. My goal is to read 75 books this year and I am looking for recommendations from you kind folks for my Literature Frenzy Challenge so feel free to suggest me some good stuff to read in the comment section. Just for fun, here is my top 5 books read in 2011 so far:

The End of the Affair
A Clockwork Orange
A Scanner Darkly
The Stars My Destination
Of Mice and Men

That's all for now, toodles!

"The Books I Should Have Read by Now" Challenge!

2011-05-28T20:12:00.000-07:00

I've decided to participate in my first reading blogger challenge hosted by Gabriel at Gabriel Reads starting on June, 1. As a bibliophile, my shelves are overflowing with books and turning my room into a hazardous obstacle course. Well, this is just the incentive I need to actually get around to reading the books I own instead of going out and buying more. Furthermore, I will be able to determine whether or not these books are worthy of shelf-status or should be donated. Here is a tentative list:

Fool by Christopher Moore
The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove by Christopher Moore
Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore
Satanic Verses by Salman Rusdie
How to be Good by Nick Hornby
Anonymous Rex by Eric Garcia
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
~~Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen~~
The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen
Youth in Revolt by C.D. Payne
I Know this Much is True by Wally Lamb
Little Green Men by Christopher Buckley
All Families are Psychotic by Douglas Coupland
Sailing to Sarantium by Guy Gavriel Kay
A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin
A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin
The Frog King by Adam Davies
Middlesex by Jefferey Eugenides
The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
Choke by Chuck Palahniuk
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
The World According to Garp by John Irving
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres

A Good Man is Hard to Find and Other Stories by Flannery O'Connor

2011-05-27T22:24:00.000-07:00

"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."

It is difficult to see clearly from the semi-distorted cover but there is a man wearing a farmer's hat, his hands raised up to the sky in an odd gesture and the sun shining down as he stands by a river in a rural countryside. His physical features are obscured but his shadow takes the shape of a devil and the valise laying the ground by his feet also gives off an ominous shadow. This illustrated cover design by Lauren Elder from the Women's Press edition effectively reflects the essence of many of the stories contained within the collection by Flannery O'Connor which all take place in the rural south of the United States where the precarious nature of good and evil are in contention. There is is equal opportunity to obtain righteousness or fall into perpetual sin. As a result, many of these stories are religious parables or attempt to explore various underlying Christian doctrines. Many of the characters atempt to obtain grace or redemption in predominantly conservative southern states undergoing profound social, political and economic transformations. Thus, it is easier to fall into sin as they struggle to adjust to a radical new way of life as the older southern values begin to disintegrate.

As with many short-story collections that I have come across, not all of the stories are consistent in quality; some ranging from decent to excellent with a few underwhelming ones in between such as "A Stroke of Good Fortune" and "The Artificial Nigger" but I would not classify any of the stories as atrocious in any particular fashion. There is usually at least some element of each story that is engaging or admirable. The best stories include "A Good Man is Hard to Find", "Good Country People" , "The Displaced Person" and "A Late Encounter with the Enemy" which all display O'connor in top literary form: her hauntingly poetic and ironic writing style where she is able to create a compelling sense of time and place in the deep south; the concern with the macabre, the disillusionment of religion, false facades, racial bigotry, xenophobia and feminism.

Some readers may find the blatant racism offensive especially towards African-Americans but one must place O'connor's writing within its historical context. For instance, in "The Displaced Person", the female plantation owner hires black labour and is prone to making racist comments about them: "The Judge had said always hire you a half-witted nigger because they don't have sense enough to stop working" (230). There are plenty of other racist remarks made throughout these stories where the N-bomb is casually dropped such as the grandmother in A Good Man is Hard to Find who says, "Little niggers in the country don't have things like we do" (12). I don't know if Flannery O'Connor was a white supremacist but she was a southern belle writing at a particular time in American history where blacks lacked basic civil rights and were commonly referred to as niggers. There is no denying that O'Connor has made a valuable contribution to American literature with many of these stories worthy of praise for their literary craft and authentically rare southern perspective but other than the title story, I would be hard-pressed to read any of them again unless for an American literature course.

Read from May 10 to 27, 2011

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

2011-05-26T21:17:00.000-07:00

"What's it going to be then, eh?"

O, my brothers, I viddy that A Clockwork Orange is a real horror-show! Having seen the wonderful Kubrick film adaptation a few years ago and finally getting around to reading the actual novel now, I have to give the upper-edge to the latter. Despite the controversial history of both works, the novel still managed to exceed my expectations in every conceivable way and is easily one of the best pieces of literature that I have ever read. Burgess is a master of linguistics and many languages; plenty of scholarly attention devoted to his unique style of writing and for good reason. The implementation of a "nadsat" language used by the protagonist and first-person narrator Alex is fascinating in its vernacular; allowing Burgess to creatively play around with diction and syntax. Perhaps a little confusing at first but it is easy enough to pick up as the novel progresses.

Free will and morality are the key themes and even though Burgess is didactic in his approach, the social, political and religious ideologies remain powerful in their convictions. Despite blurring the lines between a futuristic dystopia and contemporary society (although Kubrick's version leans more towards the former), I would be hard-pressed to label the novel strictly as science fiction. An aesthetic tour-de-force that is at times both disturbing and funny, Burgess effectively uses irony in a humorous way but also as a narrative strategy to express the inherent contradictions of Alex's actions and the novel's thematic concerns. Burgess poses an important question that the novel will attempt to explore: "Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good imposed upon him?" By the end, the answer is made vividly clear as Burgess stresses the importance of free will and provides a cautionary tale of the dire consequences when a totalitarian state is capable of taking it away.

The most surprising aspect of the novel is that there resides an emotionally resonant coming-of-age story at the core of the story, further reflecting Burgess' uncanny writing abilities to generate empathy towards such a vile protagonist. Alex is malicious as much as he is witty and alluring. His transformation from a violent rebellious youth to a guinea pig of government experimentation to cure him of his wicked ways is terrifying in its potential implications. On the one hand, the crime rate will drop exponentially as prisoners under special rehabilitation treatment but when they are released they will cease to be human; nothing more than a mechanical drone without a shred of free will: A clockwork orange. Entertaining as much as it is thought-provoking, this novel has lost none of its power or social relevance.

Read from May 24 to 26, 2011

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

2011-05-24T17:31:00.000-07:00

"We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is."

There are moments of scattered brilliance and profound philosophical insight on the nature of mankind (the above quote being a prime example) found in Lem's Solaris, but the large implementation of dense scientific discourse is considerably tedious; undermining the fluidity of the story where many sections are a slog to read through. Lem's style of prose is more befitting of a scientific dissertation full of theories, hypotheses, experiments and analysis rather than an exciting piece of science fiction, since the actual narrative leaves much to be desired.

I accept Darko Suvin’s definition of science fiction as consisting of “cognitive estrangement” based around a “novum” (in this case, the planet Solaris) that focuses on the exploration of ideas based within cognitive logic and thus, the novel definitely falls into this genre category. The problem is that the objective scientific perspective greatly overshadows the story substance. Similar to many alien-contact narratives, the novel focuses on the “other” as a reflection of what it means to be human and the flawed human perception to understand an incomprehensible entity: "Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilization without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed" (157). Kris Kelvin is a psychologist and arrives on the planet of Solaris to continue research on the enigmatic massive ocean that makes up its entire surface and seems to produce a hallucinatory effect on the scientists living at the research station: a phenomena later referred to as “phi-creatures” – apparitions that emulate human physiology and are linked to repressed memories. Dreams, nightmares and the precarious nature of reality are brought to the forefront as Kelvin learns to accept and confront the demons of his past embodied in the sudden appearance of a dead female lover named Rheya. His crumbling psyche and relationship with Rheya is the most intriguing aspect of the novel for me as he deals with the guilt over her death, seeking atonement for his past sins. Unfortunately, Lem’s insistence to provide a history of the ocean’s discovery and extensive analysis regarding its biological structure with plenty of technical terminology concerning “mimoids”, “symmetriads”, “extensors”, “assymmetriads” along with an assortment of other bio-mathematical explanations ends up detracting from the narrative as well as the development of empathetic characters; they end up being portrayed as uninteresting caricatures, mere vessels for Lem to wax his scientific and philosophical ideas.

Lem is clearly an erudite and sophisticated writer and the postulation of God as anthropomorphic and “imperfect” is an intriguing hypothesis. The discovery of an omniscient being in the form of a planetary ocean that is a living organism, possessing a conscience will and remains indifferent to human contact is a fascinating concept; an accurate analogy concerning the existence of a possible God who is beyond human comprehension. Solaris is worth reading for its ideas but I just wish more emphasis was placed on the actual narrative.

Read from May 22 to 24, 2011

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller

2011-05-23T07:12:00.000-07:00

"Pop, I'm nothing! I'm nothing, Pop. Can't you understand that? There's no spite in it any more. I'm just what I am, that's all."

Sorry, but this write-up will be less of a literary review and more of a rambling personal reflection. In Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, the author completely eschews with subtlety and is adamant to emphasize the failure of the American Dream. Nonetheless, the didacticism of the narrative does not mitigate Miller’s social, political and economic ideologies or the play’s core emotional resonance for that matter. The evil of capitalism and the blind pursuit of financial success as a meaningless endeavor capable of destroying lives are made abundantly clear.

Having read the play at this particular stage in my life was a real wake-up call. The play managed to reflect my own anxieties and failures in life regarding my current deplorable financial situation and bleak future. Sure, I have made many mistakes in the past but it is embarrassing and downright pathetic that at the age of 25 I am still working for minimum wage. This job has chipped away at my soul for seven years and left me empty without any hope to continue living. Similar to Willy Loman, I was deceived into thinking that working hard would allow the opportunity to move up in this business where I could establish a name for myself and earn respect from my employers. Wrong. They could not care less about me regardless of the dedication and the large amount of years put in working my tail off for them. I’m just another name on the peon payroll, a ghost that allows the cog in the machine to continue functioning. The familiar idiom of "keeping up with the Joneses" has never been an issue although recently I have become more self-conscious of my predicament. Most people I know around my age are well on their way to building a prosperous future for themselves, which largely stems from having an actual career that pays salary. They drive their own car and have a place of their own instead of living in their parent's basement. They have the luxury of purchasing whatever their heart desires. They can take vacations and travel the world. Many of them are even getting married or involved in a serious relationship. I understand that a large portion of my misery is a result of failing to graduate from college and similar to Biff, I’ve become a disappointment to my parents for not amounting to anything other than an incompetent deadbeat. Every work shift is struggle to refrain myself from committing suicide and that is usually a sign that it is time to find a new profession. I'd love to finally quit and tell my boss to go to hell but I’m stuck in a catch-22 situation. Without the proper education credentials, I am doomed to work other monotonous, perfunctory and degrading jobs that will not be any different.

I am faced with two options: I could take the Willy Loman route and commit suicide for being a failure in life by making the mistake of conforming to the hypocrisies of the capitalist system. Or, I could be like Biff and find the strength to reject capitalism; try to do something positive with my life and find happiness despite the lack of a steady income. The latter sounds mighty appealing but I'm not sure if the wandering bohemian lifestyle is for me. Maybe it is about time I grew up and actually applied myself instead of being scared to move forward. Quitting my shitty job and finding a way to finish college would probably be a positive step in the right direction but then again, would such actions not be paradoxical, eventually leading me to become another working drone of the system? Ugh, I don't even know what the hell I am talking about anymore.

Read from May 20 to 22, 2011

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

2011-05-20T14:48:00.000-07:00

"Dead men are heavier than broken hearts."

As far as detective fiction goes, the influence of Raymond Chandler on the genre is unprecedented. Philip Marlowe remains the iconic and quintessential hard-boiled detective who was first introduced to the world in The Big Sleep (1939) and the rest is history. I have yet to view the film adaptation with Humphrey Bogart in the title role (get off my back, I plan on rectifying this misdemeanor soon!) but this is perfect casting in my mind. Who else could play the suave, jaded, rebellious, clever, wise-cracking tough-guy better than Bogey? No one.

Although the actual mystery in the novel is not particularly exciting and ultimately rendered inconsequential by the end, one must consider that Chandler is laying the groundwork for the genre conventions of 1930s American detective fiction: the cynical detective investigating the seedy underbelly of the rich upper class in Los Angeles involving dying millionaires, blackmail, murder, espionage, gambling, kidnapping, pornography rackets, political corruption and of course, sexy femme-fatales. I can only imagine that the subject material must have been innovative and controversial at the time. For me, Chandler's rip-roaring hard-edged style of 1930's vernacular and the always compelling Marlowe remain the most memorable elements. I found the story more enjoyable by detaching myself from the 21st century and trying to view the novel within the historical context of the novel since Chandler's irreverent crass writing and penchant for misogyny is inadvertently hilarious. Here are a few examples:

"I don't mind your showing me your legs. They're very swell legs and it's a pleasure to make their acquaintance. I don't mind if you don't like my manners. They're pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter nights" (19).

"She had the fine-drawn face of an intelligent Jewess" (28).

"The giggles stopped dead, but she didn't mind the slap any more than last night. Probably all her boy friends got around to slapping her sooner or later. I could understand how they might" (66).

"Cute as a Filipino on Saturday night" (154).

Entertaining for the most part and worth reading for its literary genre influence but not a novel that left any sort of indelible impression on me. People who are bigger fans of mystery, detective fiction and film-noir are bound to get more out of it than I did.

Read from May 18 to 20, 2011

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch by Philip K. Dick

2011-05-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

"God Promises Eternal Life. We Can Deliver It."

Come on now, isn't that cover freakin' awesome? I have made it my personal mission to own all of these spectacular vintage editions of my favorite Philip K. Dick's novels since my current bookshelf feels naked without them, but I digress. Let's get down to brass tacks here -- to label this novel as bizarre or otherworldly would be an understatement. The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch is science fiction in gonzo and psychedelic overdrive but without the unpleasant after-effects. Yes, you’re head might still be spinning after reading this novel but after the intense bafflement subsides, a profound sensation of awe and fascination should arise. The novel is far from perfect and is often messy in narrative structure without a completely satisfying conclusion. Nevertheless, it contains such an onslaught of mesmerizing ideas along with an elaborate philosophical and religious discourse that is difficult to fully absorb upon a first reading. I am confident that my admiration for this novel will only improve with subsequent and closer readings. If the science fiction is a genre basted on estrangement that offers an exploration of ideas based within cognitive logic, then Philip K. Dick adheres to this concept but does so in such an aggressively energetic way that it seems he cannot write fast enough to express everything he intends to get across in the novel. Infusing a dazzling and intense literary style elevates his work into the stratosphere of great literature.

After reading several of his novels, it is clear that he focuses on similar themes but he takes a different approach each time around; the major ones being the precarious nature of reality, capitalism, drugs and religion. The difference between Three Stigmata and the other of his works that I have read is that this one focuses more overtly and intensely on religion; that is, spirituality, ontology, gnosticism and the existence of God -- all with an intrinsic connection to the perception of reality which, is of course highly influenced by drugs and the competing corporations supplying the addictive hallucinogens. The connection between a drug induced hallucination and a spiritual awakening is an intriguing observation that PKD makes: “We lose our fleshly bodies, our corporeality, as they say. And put on imperishable bodies instead, for a time anyhow: Or forever, if you believe as some do that it’s outside time and space that it’s eternal” (41). This euphoric sensation is transitory since the drug eventually wears off but the novel then introduces its clever premise: What if a drug existed where the individual was able to permanently retain this feeling of religious re-birth, exhilaration, freedom and purpose by living within a new reality of their mind? Of course, the effects of such a drug brings into the whole question of reality and what exactly constitutes absolute truth. The bottom line is, human perception is inadequate; there being a fine line between so-called “reality” and illusion. Dick creatively explores this conundrum wrapped around a mind-boggling story that does not always make sense but part of the fun is attempting to figure out just what exactly is going on in the novel. In fact, new readers would benefit greatly for not possessing any further knowledge of the plot since it contains plenty of surprising twists and revelations. Whether or not Dick was consciously aware of creating narrative ambiguity and uncertainty to reinforce his thematic concerns is difficult to say with any assurance. Nonetheless, the erratic style and convoluted plot structure does fit within the context of the novel. I would be hard-pressed to recommend Three Stigmata to newcomers of Philip K. Dick and it is bound to be more enjoyable and appreciated if one is already familiar with some of his other works.

Read from May 15 to 17, 2011

The Ninth Configuration by William Peter Blatty

2011-05-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

It's such a wonderfully rare feeling to pick up a book and from the very first page you are instantly hooked. William Peter Blatty's The Ninth Configuration is one of these books for me where I just could not put it down and ended up finishing in one sitting. I've always been a fan of brevity, and Blatty accomplishes so much within only 130 pages: a well-written and devastating story with such vividly memorable characters, focusing on mental illness wrapped around religious discourse and anti-war sentiments with perhaps even a touch of allegory sprinkled in for good measure.

Blatty avoids didacticism and lets the contradictory philosophical debates battle each other out within the context of the story and the conflicted characters; namely, Cutshaw and Colonel Kane. Blatty has a natural ear for dialogue and much of the novel consists of conversations between the characters but it never comes across as contrived or ostentatious; that is, it does aid in driving the story forward but contains its own unique rhythms and intricacies to flesh out the characters that never feels forced. While the novel does deal explicitly at times about the existence of God and can be very serious at times, there is also a lot of humor to be found especially in the witty dialogue. I particularly enjoyed the allusions to Hamlet's madness as a way to potentially explain the roots of mental illness: "Cause acting nutty is a safety valve, a way to let off steam; a way to get rid of your fucking aggressions and all of your guilts and your fears...(75). I couldn't agree more with this statement. A great and absorbing read that I am bound to revisit in the future. Thanks for the recommendation, D.

Read on May 13, 2011

To Marry Medusa by Theodore Sturgeon

2011-05-16T18:02:00.000-07:00

Dammit Sturgeon, why do you have to wrack my brain and render me ineffable with your relentless command of language, compassion for humanity and perplexing stories? A novel pulsating with subtle complexities and introspective ideas, it demands to be read multiple times in order to fully absorb its true essence with clarity (I'm still not sure what to make of it as a whole). To Marry Medusa completely subverts the alien-invasion story conventions and is not your typical science fiction: it presents a perplexing and unique vision of humanity written with literary flair preceding the new-wave; offering a challenging and often disturbing speculative possibility of mankind's potential to achieve transcendence.

Read from May 10 to 13, 2011

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

2011-05-16T17:37:00.000-07:00

"A guy needs somebody - to be near him. A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody. Don't make no difference who the guy is, long's he's with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an' he gets sick."

"Maybe everybody in the whole damn world's scared of each other."

Steinbeck is quickly becoming one my favorite authors and a large part of that has to do with his very intimate, honest and simple, yet thematically rich stories filled with such memorable characters. There is a reason George and Lennie are iconic American literary figures. By "simple" I do not mean to say his writing is prosaic. Steinbeck does not strive for pretentious stylistic flourishes a la Faulkner but rather employs economic prose with a keen insight into the human condition that is accessible in its brevity without sacrificing articulation or pathos. It's embarrassing to admit that I never actually read Of Mice and Men until now. For some reason, it was not a part of my high-school curriculum and nor did I ever possess any desire to seek it out at any particular time. Oh, what a poor fool I am for having neglected reading this masterpiece for so long! I realize that this novel has been studied and analyzed to death so I'll be brief: An eloquently sincere story of friendship, the burdens of the lower rural working class, the fallibility of the American Dream full of sadness, loneliness and despair but containing such rich humility that is deeply moving beyond almost everything I have ever read -- and that ending...wow. Inevitable but oh so tragic.

Read on May 10, 2011

Cannery Row by John Steinbeck

2011-05-16T17:32:00.000-07:00

"It has always seemed strange to me...The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling, are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest, are the traits of success. And while men admire the quality of the first they love the produce of the second."

Authors tend to be chroniclers of their time but only the great literary works are able to reach out to a wide audience for each subsequent generation without losing any of its core authenticity despite the so-called "dated" subject matter. John Steinbeck's Cannery Row is one such novel and despite the setting being 1930's Americana, the themes of universal human experience still remain emotionally powerful. There is something about stories that revolve around flawed ordinary people who are just trying to find happiness and survive in this cruel world, that deeply resonates with me. Consisting of vignettes surrounding a bunch of different characters of the lower and middle-class with various racial backgrounds all living in a small coastal town, there is no complex overarching plot but rather a simple and authentic portrayal of American life where the mundane ultimately transcends into the magical. It is rare to come across a novel that is not bogged down by plot contrivances but rather focuses on intimate observations and establishing verisimilitude to creating a tangible sense of place that feels like home.

The way Steinback is able to create a vivid setting and memorable characters with such poignancy and poetic beauty is a joy to behold. This novel reminds me of films by Mike Leigh who often utilizes a similar aesthetic of constructing stories where the plot comes second to the characters of lower/middle class Londoners as they experience everyday life and their relationships with others. Whether these people are burdened by the past or their current lives are full of despair or loneliness, they attempt to achieve atonement or some semblance of happiness but there is not always a happy ending where all the problems are resolved. The vicissitudes of life rarely ever unfold like a carefully constructed arch-plot story. Instead, Cannery Row establishes an ardent sense of immediacy. Life goes on.

Rating: ****

Read from May 06 to 07, 2011

Ubik by Philip K. Dick

2011-05-16T17:14:00.000-07:00

Ubik is one of those rare astonishing science fiction novels filled to the brim with such perplexing and fascinating ideas but is actually supported by the author's literary flair and authoritative story telling abilities. How the hell does this guy continually come up with such mind-altering and visionary stories? My guess is drugs, lots and lots of drugs. Or maybe he's a genius. Nonetheless, anyone who happens to be ambivalent towards the genre should certainly check out Ubik which is bound to eradicate any preconceived notions that science fiction is nothing more than poorly written space operas lacking any substance. I would also suggest that this would be a far more enjoyable first read without having any prior notions of the premise; there are far too many surprising twists and turns. Besides, this is Philip K. Dick we are talking about here: a literary madman capable of writing some of the most bizarre, fascinating, entertaining and thought-provoking stories.

The novel can be approached simply as a wickedly entertaining and darkly humorous pre-cyberpunk extravaganza but of course, there is much more going on below the surface: a religious parable, a philosophical an epistemological exploration of human nature and consciousness along with the elusive nature of reality. After finishing this novel, I kept thinking to myself: Why do we read and what is the point of reading fiction? It seems like a frivolous and transitory exercise most of the time; you pick up a book and maybe it lingers with you for a while after you finish it but then it is usually forgotten. You invest precious time and energy into a literary work to what purpose? Perhaps the acquisition of knowledge, to gain insight, to reflect on one's humanity or maybe just to be entertained. But then again, what does it mean to be entertained by fiction? I don't have the answers but personally, reading great fiction such as Ubik is capable of leaving and indelible impression by offering a unique perspective of life that makes me question the very essence of my being; a type of cathartic experience that confirms and/or radically undermines the very fabric of my existence. Literature rarely has that effect on me but this is one powerful novel that rocked my world.

Read from April 27 to 28, 2011

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick

2011-05-16T17:10:00.000-07:00

What would it be like to wake up one day and simply not exist in the world? No doubt, disorienting and scary. You might as well be dead since there are no records of your identity in the government database and everyone that you previously knew in your life has no recollection of ever knowing you. Does the premise sound familiar? It should if you are are familiar with Frank Capra's "It's a Wonderful Life" in which this novel builds upon a similar premise but imagine if George Bailey was fond of acid and went through a bad trip. Our hapless protagonist Jason Taverner is a famous TV celebrity who finds himself in this incomprehensible predicament. One minute he is a world-wide phenomenon and the next he is an absolute nobody. Instead of the warm and benevolent Bedford Falls, there is an oppressive dystopian American society recovering from the second Civil War and increased security has been implemented by the pols (police authorities) and nats (National security) to maintain order where proper identification is constantly monitored by various checkpoints. Students of universities have been deemed a threat for their free-thinking rebellious ways and thus, confined to forced labor camps. Jason is now a criminal in the eye of the state for being an illegal alien and must now seek to recover his former identity and figure out just what the hell is going on.

I just know that there is a great novel buried somewhere in this convoluted and baffling work by the always fascinating science fiction master Philip K. Dick but it will require on my part, a much closer-reading. Where Flow my Tears lacks in structural coherence, the novel makes up ten fold in its captivating ideas based on cognitive logic along with social political and philosophical musings of the highest caliber. For instance, "Grief is awareness that you will have to be alone, and there is nothing beyond that because being alone is the ultimate final destiny of each individual living creature. That's what death is, the great loneliness" (111). Beautiful and insightful prose such as this passage just serves to increase my admiration for Philip K. Dick as a writer but on further reflection, I have come to the conclusion that these particular lines serve a greater purpose within the context of the novel. Death as a metaphor and aspects of loneliness certainly does serve as a pervasive theme; characters who are somnambulists in a tyrannical society struggling for genuine human connections or plagued with the superficiality of celebrity life.

Unfortunately, this novel is severely uneven in its story structure unlike Ubik and Scanner Darkly which flow much more consistently. Dick is also prone to implementing absurd digressions and introducing undeveloped subplots especially considering the dramatic change in focalization during the latter half of the novel. Still, this is certainly worth a read for PKD fans but newcomers should probably avoid this one until they are more familiar with his style.

Read from May 01 to 02, 2011

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark

2011-05-16T17:07:00.000-07:00

"Allow me, in conclusion, to congratulate you warmly upon your sexual intercourse, as well as your singing."

Finally, a classic that is worthy of its status! Spark's beautiful and economical prose hooked me from the opening page and is a joy to savor. The feminist and anti-establishment leanings are not heavy handed; rather, the social, political and religious commentary is subtly layered which makes story more powerful and emotionally resonant. Miss Jean Brodie is a fascinating character and the way Spark plays with time, memory and perspective gives the narrative a rich tapestry of authenticity and pathos. I am now eager to seek out more works from this wonderful author.

Read on April 24, 2011

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

2011-05-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Considering The Great Gatsby's iconic status an American classic, my expectations were exceedingly high but suffice it to say, this novel did not disappoint. There are writers and then there is F. Scott Fitzgerald who is in a whole different league of his own. His highly polished style can be a little stuffy at times but it oozes cool sophistication and wit that perfectly capture's the posh 1920's jazz era. I kept thinking to myself while reading it: "Damn, I sure wish that I could write like this guy!" The Great Gatsby is a splendid, beautifully written and scathing indictment of American culture during a specific time period when the country was undergoing radical social and political change in terms of class. It is also a cynical and accurate depiction of the crumbling American dream after WWI caused by rampant moral depravity and superficial materialism. The corruption of moral and ethical values with greed and selfishness creates displacement in the individual where a self-identity is tied only to wealth and social rank. The novel's preoccupation with nostalgia and the attempt to re-establish the past is most heartfelt. It seems that nothing much has changed with American culture since the 1920's and perhaps Fitzgerald was right, maybe that green-light will always be out of reach.

Read from April 24 to 25, 2011

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemmingway

2011-05-16T16:45:00.000-07:00

Perhaps upon further reflection my rating will go up but as it stands, this novel was severely disappointing. Hemmingway's detached and laconic style only served to evoke my indifference towards the flat characters of this dull and overlong story. There was no need for 332 pages and the novel would have greatly benefited from a better editing job. There were way too many repetitive scenes of the protagonist sleeping, eating, drinking or having pointless conversations with people.

Hemmingway's portrayal of females especially Catherine to be laughably egregious. Was he being intentionally misogynistic or does he just fail at writing convincing female characters who are overly submissive to the point of parody? It baffles me that this novel is held in such high-esteem since to me it came across as insipid and utterly forgettable. Or maybe I didn't fully comprehend Hemmingway's intentions and the subtext went over my head. Either way, I know what elements of literature appeal to me and this novel left me numb. I'm not going to give up on Papa Hemmingway just yet but consider me unimpressed for the time being. Nonetheless, in the past I have enjoyed a few of his short stories so there is still hope!

Read from April 22 to 23, 2011

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner

2011-05-16T16:44:00.000-07:00

Ummmm...huh? Wait, did I miss something here? Yeah, pretty sure I did.

Rating: ????
_______________

Rarely have I ever been so conflicted over a novel. On the one hand, it was the most challenging and frustrating narrative prose that I have encountered in recent memory and yet, throughout all the hardship of plodding through this pretentious, fragmented, post-modernist stream-of-consciousness monstrosity, it felt like a rewarding experience -- as if I managed to accomplish something worthwhile and managed to push myself to a new level of literary academia. Or maybe I am just a masochist.

Faulkner's writing style is disorienting and downright baffling in its labyrinth structure but not entirely incomprehensible. The Sound and the Fury is easy enough to follow in terms of narrative framework but the subtext is perplexing. A novel that demands to be read more than once but I remain ambivalent in my willpower to take on such a task.

Read from April 19th to April 20th, 2011

The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester

2011-05-16T16:38:00.000-07:00

Gully Foyle is my name

And Terra is my nation

Deep space is my dwelling place

And death's my destination.

This is one bad-ass and mesmerizing science-fiction novel with a no-holds barred attitude that is irreverently entertaining as much as it is thought-provoking. At this current junction it is difficult to offer any sort of constructive literary criticism other than insubstantial assertions such as "amazing", "mind-blowing", "holy shit man this novel rocked my socks off!", "wow, just wow" and the like. Nevertheless, I might as well try and get some thoughts down even though they are haphazard.

I still can't believe this novel was written in 1956 since it contains some fairly risque subject matter including sexuality, intense violence and profanity that Bester gets away with that surely must have been controversial for its time. I'm still trying to sort out my mishmash of jumbled thoughts but suffice it to say, very few novels have floored me like this one. It's exhilarating from start to finish but it also leaves plenty to think about and raises interesting questions about human evolution and morality. The whole concept of teleportation referred to as "jaunting" is pretty damn cool and the way Bester plays with time is brilliant. There were so many unexpected surprises and even when I thought I knew where the story was heading, Bester pulls a fast one and the narrative shifts rapidly in unpredictably exciting ways. Oh yes, Gully Folly is definitely one of the most memorable characters I have ever come across; a fascinating anti-hero if there ever was one.

What separates this novel from the majority of others that I have read in the genre is that Bester can actually knows how to write a damn good story with delectable prose with plenty of intriguing subtext and scientific/philosophical thematic concerns. I much prefer a well-told and meaningful story with interesting characters and ideas rather than something with great ideas but does not have engaging writing to back it up. Bester is able to simultaneously balance both elements with adept skill and creative imagination. A sci-fi classic.

Read from April 16 to 18, 2011

More than Human by Theodore Sturgeon

2011-05-16T15:57:00.000-07:00

More than Human by Theodore Sturgeon is an innovative and bizarre piece of science fiction from the 1960's that takes on a similar narrative structure to William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury; that is, the story is often dense, focusing on intermittent character perspectives that is perplexing because of psychological displacement. For instance, Lone is a man-child and bears an uncanny resemblance to Benjy Compton by possessing an unstable inner consciousness. Far from an easy read, it is difficult to fully grasp all of the subtle complexities but this one of those literary works that is bound to be more satisfying on subsequent readings. Sturgeon layers a plethora of ideas and subtext that can be easily overlooked.

The novel is often full of sadness, despair, loneliness and is at times very twisted but somehow Sturgeon is able to convey such passion and beauty with his writing. The story about a group of freaks and outcasts who are brought together by destiny to introduce humanity to the next stage of evolution could easily have fallen into camp. However, despite their flawed personalities, Sturgeon manages to create empathetic characters through intimately portraying the inner consciousness of these unique individuals. The formation of the human gestalt is a fascinating concept that Sturgeon explores in such a creative way as the group begins to come together and realize their potential.

The question, "What does it mean to be Human?" comes up often in Science-Fiction but Sturgeon takes this concept to a whole new level. He seems to suggest that human beings are an evolutionary dead end even though consciousness sets us apart from other species. The human gestalt as the next step in human evolution carries both dystopian and utopian possibilities depending on one's perspective. I'm still trying to wrack my brain over this novel but suffice it to say, it was certainly unlike anything I have ever read before and look forward to reading it again.

Read from April 06 to 07, 2011

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

2011-05-16T15:43:00.000-07:00

"How'd you like to gaze at a beer can throughout eternity? It might not be so bad. There'd be nothing to fear."

From the very first sentence I just knew that A Scanner Darkly would turn out to be something special. Dick's writing style may not always be the most consistent; in terms of narrative structure, his stories can be frustratingly erratic and do not always make sense -- it consistently feels as if he is writing under the influence of hallucinogens and is attempting to furiously get down everything in his head before losing a train of the thought. He is a man with a wild imagination and fascinating ideas that tends to overshadow the quality of writing. However, with this novel he is at the top of his game. The convoluted narrative is surprisingly structured in a meticulous way that flows cohesively, the quality of writing embraces the new-wave aestheticism of experimental sensibility that subverts the conventions of pulp science-fiction. Thus, not only is it an exceptional piece of science-fiction but should also be revered beyond its genre classification as a distinguished piece of great literature.

Philip K. Dick struggled with drugs for a large part of his life and many of his close friends died through rampant drug abuse. Thus, this novel is incredibly personal for him and remains his most emotionally resonant. Forget Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting or Hubert Selby Jr.'s Requiem for a Dream, Dick has written what is quite possibly the most original, peculiar, entertaining and intellectually captivating anti-drug novel of the 1960's or quite possibly, ever. Mesmerizing in its creativity, this is a powerful story teeming with a plethora of ideas concerning social, political, cultural, philosophical and religious ideologies of an American dystopian society (or perhaps one that is all too familiar) that is struggling to control the aggressive drug trade.The vast population is falling victim to psychological derangement caused by the highly addictive and lethal Substance-D as it floods the streets of California and causes a wide-spread pandemic. The D.E.A. is powerless to stop the flow of drug-trafficking but with the introduction of "scrambler suits" (a fascinating technologically advanced body suit), agents can be better protected as they go undercover to infiltrate the main drug smuggling circles. A Scanner Darkly cleverly explores the role of subjectivity and the concept of self-identity. The protagonist, Bob Archer, is a member of the D.E.A. and assigned by his superiors to investigate none other than himself who also happens to be addicted to Substance-D. Furthermore, mental illness, reality, illusion, the fragility of human consciousness and gnosticism are examined within the narrative context of drug abuse.

A noteworthy aspect of the novel is PKD's ability to effectively portray the flustered mind of someone undergoing a drug-induced hallucination along with writing convincing and witty dialogue, which is a large part of the narrative. The effective way characters play off each other through drug-induced banter is funny as much as it intricately designed to shape this cognitively estranged dystopian world (as opposed to just resorting to info-dump and endless descriptions) as well as emphasizing the underlying social commentary. Even though the novel maintains a certain level of comedy there is also a pervasive sadness to it all. One could even enjoy this novel strictly on an entertaining level as a science fiction neo-noir detective thriller but I think it is a much more rewarding experience to peel the layers and focus on the thematic structural framework. A sci-fi masterpiece that demands to be read and cherished.

Read April 11, 2011

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr.

2011-05-16T15:37:00.000-07:00

It took me a lot longer to finish than novel than initially expected since Miller's prose tends to be a little bit clunky and objectively detached for my tastes although it does suit the context of the novel: A epic and bleak historical post-apocalyptic account that spans several millenniums all from the perspective of various monks that are stationed at the ancient monastery of St. Leibowitz. While the initial premise is intriguing, the narrative tends to be dense and tedious with flat characters. I admit to having to force myself to keep on reading at times and perhaps if the novel was more refined in the editing department, the story would not have dragged on incessantly. Nonetheless, the novel's preoccupation with preserving human knowledge (conducted by the monks at the abbey) along with its contradictory religious and philosophical convictions kept me interested enough to at least finish the novel. Although Leibowitz is often considered one of the pinnacle works of the science fiction genre, I appreciate the novel much more within its historical context and patent didacticism rather than on a strictly enjoyment level. It is definitely worth a read for those interested in history or are curious to seek out an unorthodox dystopian science fiction novel but personally, I much prefer works within the genre that are quick-paced, overflowing with ideas, imagination and have that pulpy edge like Philip K. Dick or Alfred Bester are able to offer.

The novel is chronological in its depiction of events and is split into three sections, where each part depicts a specific moment in time. Miller completely subverts genre expectations of the post-apocalyptic science fiction story because he is not interested in presenting an action-packed heroic survival narrative where characters battle the harsh environment or are up against silly mutated creatures. The allegory of the Cold War is rather blatant and the novel is built upon the foundation of Christian religious theodicy to perhaps offer an explanation of human kind's flawed nature to commit sin and to justify the ways of God to man. If there is a God then why does he allow evil in the world and if human beings are his children, then why would he allow history to repeat itself where the nuclear holocaust is carried out? He is a merciful God and is perhaps giving us the opportunity to change our ways and learn from our mistakes. Throughout my reading a quote from Battlestar Galactica was constantly in the back of my mind: "All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again." Or maybe one interprets the novel from a cynical perspective where there is no God; mankind is destined to continually destroy itself through advanced technology and the blind pursuit of a more idealized society. Miller is far from subtle in his agenda and the ending suggests a rather pessimistic world view -- a terrifying forewarning of history repeating itself with the rise and fall of civilization brought about by the imminent nuclear annihilation of the human race if we are not more cautious and responsible towards advancing technologies.

Read from May 03 to 06, 2011

Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin

2011-05-16T15:13:00.000-07:00

"People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it very simply; by the lives they lead."

First things first: Baldwin can write his ass off. He just has a way with words that are imperceptibly profound and flow beautifully. This is a deeply religious novel and while I tend to me ambivalent towards such subject matter, I found myself challenged and also captivated by the influence Christianity has on the lives of these characters and the complex way religion drives the story about the Grimes family as each member struggles with their faith in seeking salvation. An engrossing coming-of-age story as well as an expansive African American family saga with shifting narrative perspectives that alternates between different places in time -- from the deep south during slavery all the way to 1930's Harlem, where most of the novel takes place. Although the heated racial tensions between blacks and whites is present in the novel, Baldwin is rather subtle in his approach; refraining from taking sides and placing the blame solely on the white man. He just simply paints an accurately objective picture of the social and political struggles of race, class, sexuality and violence throughout a particular time in American history. The novel is split into three sections and each has its own merits and by the end, I was deeply moved. As a cynical non-believer, Baldwin made me question my faith (or lack thereof) so there is definitely something to be said about the spiritual power of this novel.

Read from May 07 to 10, 2011

The End of the Affair by Graham Greene

2011-05-16T15:06:00.000-07:00

"I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue; one can't love and do nothing."

Well, Mr. Greene, you've surely written another masterpiece. I'm struck with an ineffable sensation of awe after finishing this book which happens to not just be the most romantic novel I have ever read but easily one of the best pieces of literature I have ever stumbled upon. This is one of those life-affirming type of novels. Unfortunately, I am going to have to take a break from reading now because everything else I pick up is bound to pale in comparison. I have not come across any novel that accurately and honestly depicts the perplexing nature of romantic love in all of its joy and contradictions. The novel completely resonates with my own beliefs on the subject; of course, the main difference being that Greene is a lot more philosophical and eloquent with his words than I can ever hope to be. I finished this novel in one sitting and by the time I reached the last page I was moved to damn near tears; not so much by the story's tragedy but by Greene's keen insight of love, human relationships, religion, death: Life itself. I have always admired Greene's brevity, his elegant introspective prose full of rich irony that often focuses on flawed characters struggling with their faith but in this novel, he is at the apex of his powers. [Insert interminable superlatives here].

There were times throughout the novel where it seems Greene was perhaps advocating Catholicism and one could probably make that claim but I disagree; he isn't so much as surreptitiously trying to convert readers to the Catholic faith but using the religious doctrine and principles as a thematic structure to the story and to place his characters in their own spiritual crises as a way to tackle the complex issue of religious faith and existentialism (a literary element prevalent in all of his works I have read thus far). Greene's theological concerns may stem from Catholicism but he is more interested in the complex questions of God's existence, love and what it means to live a meaningful life. There are no easy answers. According to the general consensus, it is still hard to believe that I have not yet read his supposedly best works which include Brighton Rock along with Power and the Glory. It will certainly be difficult for any of his works to top End of the Affair for me but considering Greene's masterful writing, I would not rule out the possibility of such an occurrence.

Read on April 29, 2010

Teh Literature Frenzy Challenge!!

2011-05-16T13:20:00.000-07:00

Alright lady and germs, this is my ultimate Reading List Challenge which will include a total of 200 pieces of literature (perhaps subject to change depending on recommendations) that I will hopefully be able to finish before departing from this world. I have narrowed down my own list and hoping for recommendations from you kind folks out there in the nebulous realm of cyberspace to provide the additional literary works to make it an even 200. My goal is to finish 50 books off this list by the end of 2011. Let's get this party started, shall we?

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe (re-read)
Watership Down by Richard Adams
Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson
Pride and Prejudice by Austen
Persuasion by Austen
Sense and Sensibility by Austen
~~Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen~~
Go Tell it to the Mountain by James Baldwin
Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin
Another Country by James Baldwin
The Science Fiction Short Stories of J.G. Ballard
The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
The Demolished Man by Alfred Bester
Virtual Unrealities (short stories) by Alfred Bester
The Ninth Configuration by William Peter Blatty
The Souls of Black Folk by Du Bois
Dandelion Wine by Bradbury
Farenheit 451 Bradbury
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Master and the Margarita by Bulgakov
A Clockwork Orange by Burgess
Wild Seed by Octavia Butler
In Cold Bloody by Truman Capote
What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Carver
O Pioneers! By Willa Cather
My Antonia by Willa Cather
The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chobsky
The Awakening and Selected Short Stories by Kate Chopin
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee
Lord Jim by Conrad
A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick
Ubik by Philip K. Dick
The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch by Dick
Martian Time Slip by Dick
Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick
Crack in Space by Dick
Dr. Bloodmoney by Dick
Valis by Dick
The Idiot by Dostoeyevsky
Notes from the Underground by Dostoeyevsky
Crime and Punishment by Dostoeyevsky
Brothers Karamazov by Dostoeyevsky
Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass
Mill on the Floss by Eliot
Middlemarch by Eliot
The Little Prince by Exupery
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
The Great Gatsby by Fitzgerald
Sentimental Education by Flaubert
Tender is the Night by Fitzgerald
Babylon Revisited by Fitzgerald
Everything is Illuminated by Foer
Howard’s End by E.M. Forster
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster
A Room With a View by E.M. Forster
The French Lieutenant’s Woman by Fowles
~~The Quiet American by Graham Greene~~
The Tenth Man by Greene
The Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene
Our Man in Havana by Graham Greene
A Burnt-Out Case by Graham Greene
End of the Affair by Graham Greene
Power and the Glory by Graham Greene
~~Brighton Rock by Graham Greene~~
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
The Sun Also Rises by Hemmingway
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemmingway
The Old Man and the Sea by Hemmingway
The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories by Hemmingway
A Good Man is Hard to Find and other Stories by Flannery O’Connor
Wise Blood by O’Connor
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Cannery Row by John Steinbeck
East of Eden by Steinbeck
Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck
Sweet Thursday by Steinbeck
~~To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee~~
Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
Under the Volcano by Lowry
The Bell Jar by Plath
The Complete Fiction of Nella Larsen
Blithedale Romance by Hawthorne
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Pale Fire by Nabokov
The Woman Warrior by Kingston
Franny and Zooey by Salinger
Seize the Day by Saul Bellow
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller
The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
As You like It by Shakespeare
~~Macbeth by Shakespeare~~
King Henry IV, Part 1 by Shakespeare
King Henry IV, Part 2 by Shakespeare
Much Ado About Nothing by Shakespeare
Taming of the Shrew by Shakespeare
Of Human Bondage by Maugham
Razor's Edge by Maugham
Cakes and Ale by Maugham
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
~~Dubliners by James Joyce~~
Tess of the D’Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark
The Comforters by Muriel Spark
The Driver’s Seat by Muriel Spark
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
The Bell by Murdoch
The Sea, the Sea by Murdoch
Never Let Me go by Ishiguro
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy (recommended by Satia)
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Marquez
Anna Karenina by Tolstoy
Sirius by Stapledon
Dune by Herbert
The Way Station by Clifford D. Simak
The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr.
The Lathe of Heaven by Le Guin
Left Hand of Darkness by Le Guin
The Dispossessed by Le Guin
Wizard of Earthsea by Le Guin
Solaris by Lem
To Marry Medusa by Theodore Sturgeon
More than Human by Theodore Sturgeon
Some of Your Blood by Sturgeon
Godbody by Sturgeon
The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Heinlein
The Divinity Student by Michael Cisco
Teatro Grottesco by Ligotti
Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman
Perdido Street Station by China Mieville
The Last Dragon by McDerrmott
~~Utopia by Thomas Moore~~
Animal Farm by Orwell
Tales of a Tub by Jonathan Swift
Midnight’s Children by Rushdie
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Twain
Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Twain
The Human Stain by Roth
A Sport and a Pastime by James Salter
The Portable Dorthy Parker by DorthyParker
The Crying Lot 49 by Pynchon
Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge
The Sparrow by Mary Dorry Russell
Rabbit, Run by John Updike
A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh
Brideshead Revisted by Evelyn Waugh
War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells
The Time Machine by H.G. Wells
The First Men in the Moon by H.G. Wells
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty by Welty
Age of Innocence by Wharton
House of Mirth by Wharton
Ethan Frome by Wharton
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Wilde (re-read)
The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams
A Streetcar Named Desire by Williams
Glass Menagerie by Williams
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof by Williams
Black Boy by Richard Wright
Native Son by Richard Wright
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
The Waves by Virginia Woolf