This is my birthday post of the books I read over the past year of my life. These are not necessarily the most well written books or the books most respected by professional reviewers, but the books I personally enjoyed most. I read 81 books this year, and these are the 12 I liked best.
*A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki A Japanese-American stalled writer finds the diary of a young Japanese girl washed up on a seashore and becomes obsessed with finding the author. An engrossing and touching story, with a bit of mystery, a bit of philosophical meditation, and some magical realism. A finalist for this year's National Book Critics Circle Award and Booker Prize. (Feb. 2014)
*The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt A long, complicated book with a multitude of interesting characters, very Dickens-like. The story follows a young, orphaned boy to adulthood, telling of his adventures and misadventures and the people who influence him along the way. Winner of the 2014 Pulitzer Prize. (Dec. 2013)
*Going After Cacciato by Tim O'Brien One soldier's Vietnamese War experiences, both real and fantasized. Very dreamlike and surrealistic. Winner of the 1979 National Book Award. (Dec. 2013)
*Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens A typical Dickens novel with a heroine who is too-good-to-be-true and a villain who is too-bad-to-be-true, and yet they are like people you know, just a shade exaggerated. A complicated and suspenseful plot makes this one of the better Dickens novels, except that at 900 pages it drags on too long. (Dec. 2013)
*The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter The familiar plot of orphans left in the care of a villainous relative, with the special Carter combination of the grotesque and the surrealistic. I don't know if everyone would appreciate this author, but she is one of my favorites. (Oct. 2013)
*Doctor Sleep by Stephen King The compulsively readable story of the little boy from The Shining when he is all grown up and grappling with substance addiction and soul-sucking vampires. I generally love Stephen King and I refuse to believe he is no more than a genre hack. (Oct. 2013)
*The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte. A realistic novel from the "other" Bronte sister, warning of the dangers when a good girl chooses a bad boy, thinking he can be whipped into shape. (Oct. 2013)
*Middlemarch by George Eliot Maybe the most well-written book I have ever read. Three intertwined love stories with spot-on character portrayals. It's lengthy, it's not easy to read, it's a bit cynical, but it's the best of the best. (Sept. 2013)
*The Monk by Matthew G. Lewis A no-holds-barred early Gothic novel with authentic thrills and chills. Also very sexy. (Aug. 2013)
*To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis I read several so-called "comic" novels this year, and this was by far the funniest. A very clever account of time travel to Victorian England. (July 2013)
*The Orphan Master's Son by Adam Johnson A picture of North Korea through the eyes of Pak Jun Do, a sort of Forrest Gump-type character who is present in various roles at crucial events. In turns satirical, humorous, tragic, and horrifying. Winner of the 2013 Pulitzer Prize. (May, 2013)
*The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey A realistic picture of early settlers in Alaska, together with a magical realism account of love realized. It is not the most well written book I read this year, but it may be my favorite. Finalist for the 2013 Pulitzer Prize. (May, 2013)
I read only three books this year which I absolutely disliked, in spite of the fact that they were all well written. I just couldn't overlook the fact that the focus and subject matter were abhorrent to me. These were Being Dead by Jim Crace, about what it's like to be dead, in graphic detail; Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor, about what it's like to be old and in bad health and bored and depressed; and Dog Soldiers by Robert Stone, about what it's like to be aimless and without hope.
I actually read about 20 fewer books this year than in the years immediately past, and that's a good sign, in my case.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
The Keepers of the House by Shirley Ann Grau
For the last couple of months I have been reading current contenders for the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, plus several past winners. This novel, which won in 1965, is one that I had not read, or in fact even heard of before. Frankly, I am surprised it was chosen, as I would not have thought it to be of that quality. Perhaps it won because it concerns race relations and a woman's liberation from male dominance, two "hot topics" at that time.
The setting is the Deep South and the plot unfolds in a very Southern style, meandering back and forth to tell the story of one prominent family. The central character, Abigail, moves serenely from her role of pampered daughter and granddaughter to her role of dutiful wife, secure in her world, until a family scandal forces her to confront the suppression, hypocrisy, and incipient violence of her Southern heritage.
It's an interesting story, well worth reading, told by an author who is obviously a Southerner herself. My objections, then? The language doesn't hold up to the standard set by the classics of Southern writing; the pace of most of the book is slow and a bit boring at times, with much extraneous detail; the climax of the book is over-the-top melodramatic, with actions which do not seem realistic, even for the time and the place; finally, the whole plot is somewhat predictable, it seems to me.
Judged against novels as a whole, I would consider this one above average, but judged against what one expects of a Pulitzer winner, I would consider it weak. However, as I read more winners and think about the now-classic books which were passed over, I'm beginning to think that maybe the Pulitzer is not all its cracked up to be.
The setting is the Deep South and the plot unfolds in a very Southern style, meandering back and forth to tell the story of one prominent family. The central character, Abigail, moves serenely from her role of pampered daughter and granddaughter to her role of dutiful wife, secure in her world, until a family scandal forces her to confront the suppression, hypocrisy, and incipient violence of her Southern heritage.
It's an interesting story, well worth reading, told by an author who is obviously a Southerner herself. My objections, then? The language doesn't hold up to the standard set by the classics of Southern writing; the pace of most of the book is slow and a bit boring at times, with much extraneous detail; the climax of the book is over-the-top melodramatic, with actions which do not seem realistic, even for the time and the place; finally, the whole plot is somewhat predictable, it seems to me.
Judged against novels as a whole, I would consider this one above average, but judged against what one expects of a Pulitzer winner, I would consider it weak. However, as I read more winners and think about the now-classic books which were passed over, I'm beginning to think that maybe the Pulitzer is not all its cracked up to be.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Doomsday Book by Connie Willis
Within the 500+ pages of this book a reader will find two plot lines which, though they are connected, seem almost like two separate novels because they are so divergent in tone. Each one is well executed, but the two together make for an uneasy fit even though they are both part of the same story.
Plot #one is a science fiction story about time travel. Sometime in the 21st Century the favorite student of a university professor travels against his advice back to the year 1320. Sure enough, many things begin to go wrong from the first and the student becomes stranded in the path of the approaching spread of the Black Death. This part features an almost slapstick tone as the professor scrambles in his efforts to rescue the girl, dealing with bureaucracy, a flu epidemic and quarantine, visiting American bell ringers, and an almost total inability to get people on the phone. Despite the comedy, this part becomes a bit repetitive, as many set pieces are repeated time after time.
Plot #two is more in the vein of historical fiction, a chronicle of the student's stay in the 14th Century. The tone here is somber and tragic, as she confronts being lost in time, unable to escape the disease and death all around her. This part is very touching and often tear-worthy. A seemingly accurate picture of the period is presented, although the scope is limited to one relatively well-off family in one small village.
Perhaps Connie Willis used these two disparate tones to emphasize the relative silliness of most modern problems in comparison to the problems faced during the Middle Ages. Perhaps she had another reason that I missed noticing. Even if so, the shifting back and forth from comedy to tragedy was disconcerting for me as a reader.
Doomsday Book won both the Hugo and the Nebula Awards, science fiction's highest honors, in 1992. In spite of my criticisms, I still found it to be quite enjoyable to read.
Plot #one is a science fiction story about time travel. Sometime in the 21st Century the favorite student of a university professor travels against his advice back to the year 1320. Sure enough, many things begin to go wrong from the first and the student becomes stranded in the path of the approaching spread of the Black Death. This part features an almost slapstick tone as the professor scrambles in his efforts to rescue the girl, dealing with bureaucracy, a flu epidemic and quarantine, visiting American bell ringers, and an almost total inability to get people on the phone. Despite the comedy, this part becomes a bit repetitive, as many set pieces are repeated time after time.
Plot #two is more in the vein of historical fiction, a chronicle of the student's stay in the 14th Century. The tone here is somber and tragic, as she confronts being lost in time, unable to escape the disease and death all around her. This part is very touching and often tear-worthy. A seemingly accurate picture of the period is presented, although the scope is limited to one relatively well-off family in one small village.
Perhaps Connie Willis used these two disparate tones to emphasize the relative silliness of most modern problems in comparison to the problems faced during the Middle Ages. Perhaps she had another reason that I missed noticing. Even if so, the shifting back and forth from comedy to tragedy was disconcerting for me as a reader.
Doomsday Book won both the Hugo and the Nebula Awards, science fiction's highest honors, in 1992. In spite of my criticisms, I still found it to be quite enjoyable to read.
Monday, March 31, 2014
The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin
Any serious fan of science fiction will find it impossible to discuss this 1972 novel which examines the nature of reality without referencing the writings of Philip K. Dick, the Grand Master of alternate realities. In particular, his novel Ubik, published in 1969, will come to mind. Le Guin was an admirer of Dick's work and openly acknowledged his influence, and Dick, in turn, praised Le Guin. They apparently appreciated the fact that the plot elements they shared could be manipulated in two entirely different ways.
Le Guin's protagonist, George Orr, dreams "effective" dreams that literally change reality, both the past and the present, and he is the only one who realizes that the change has occurred; that is, he is the only one until he is forced to consult a psychiatrist because of his unlawful drug use. When the psychiatrist realizes he can partially direct George's dreams, he begins to impose his will upon his patient to bring about his own idea of a perfect world.
The only problem is that every manipulation of reality to reach utopia has unforeseen consequences, often tragic and terrifying. For example, the dream suggestion of the psychiatrist to reduce world over-population has the result of a viral pandemic resulting in the death of more than half of the world's inhabitants. The quest to solve one problem results in another problem, until the very nature of reality begins to disintegrate.
Le Guin focuses on philosophical questions in her treatment of alternate realities. Her ultimate massage would seem to be one taken from Chinese philosophy: "To let understanding stop at what cannot be understood is a high attainment. Those who cannot do it will be destroyed on the lathe of heaven."
Dick, in contrast, elicits a less intellectual, a more primitive response. In his alternate reality stories, "paranoia runs deep," as the '60s song goes. In his world, we are not sure who is the dreamer, if there is a dreamer, if there is actually a dream, or if it's all a figment of a diseased mind.
This is a well-executed book which raises many questions for thought; it is much superior to most genre fiction. Still, I prefer Dick's take on the subject of alternate realities, perhaps because, tragically enough, I think he really believed. It's not exactly a comfortable belief, and I wonder how cutting-edge physicists nowadays, who subscribe to string theory (as I understand it) deal psychologically with the possibility of more than one reality.
Le Guin's protagonist, George Orr, dreams "effective" dreams that literally change reality, both the past and the present, and he is the only one who realizes that the change has occurred; that is, he is the only one until he is forced to consult a psychiatrist because of his unlawful drug use. When the psychiatrist realizes he can partially direct George's dreams, he begins to impose his will upon his patient to bring about his own idea of a perfect world.
The only problem is that every manipulation of reality to reach utopia has unforeseen consequences, often tragic and terrifying. For example, the dream suggestion of the psychiatrist to reduce world over-population has the result of a viral pandemic resulting in the death of more than half of the world's inhabitants. The quest to solve one problem results in another problem, until the very nature of reality begins to disintegrate.
Le Guin focuses on philosophical questions in her treatment of alternate realities. Her ultimate massage would seem to be one taken from Chinese philosophy: "To let understanding stop at what cannot be understood is a high attainment. Those who cannot do it will be destroyed on the lathe of heaven."
Dick, in contrast, elicits a less intellectual, a more primitive response. In his alternate reality stories, "paranoia runs deep," as the '60s song goes. In his world, we are not sure who is the dreamer, if there is a dreamer, if there is actually a dream, or if it's all a figment of a diseased mind.
This is a well-executed book which raises many questions for thought; it is much superior to most genre fiction. Still, I prefer Dick's take on the subject of alternate realities, perhaps because, tragically enough, I think he really believed. It's not exactly a comfortable belief, and I wonder how cutting-edge physicists nowadays, who subscribe to string theory (as I understand it) deal psychologically with the possibility of more than one reality.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor
This novel about old age is simply and beautifully written, with a truthfulness and understanding seldom to be met in fiction. In a very subtle and understated style, Taylor tells the story of Mrs. Palfrey's stay at a residential hotel catering to old people of limited means, where the residents fill their days with pointless yet comforting routines and strive to appear vigorous and cheerful despite being filled with aches and pains and boredom and loneliness. Despair, not death, is the enemy to be feared.
It is because of the considerable abilities of the author in creating a realistic and poignant picture of ordinary people that I would be cautious in recommending this book to anyone. It is almost unbearably sad. I wish I had not read it; I will be depressed until I can suppress it in my memory, along with all the other things I do not choose to think about.
If I had read this in my younger years (It was published in 1971.), perhaps it would also have made melancholy, but I might also have been prompted to be more attentive and loving to my grandparents. So maybe I would recommend this to young people, almost as a cautionary tale saying, "Remember, you will be old yourself in time."
For older people (say, over 55), I would say, "Pass this one by. It is too true, because it is too well done. There's really nothing good to say about old age; it's not fun for anybody, really."
I said this book made me depressed; maybe I will feel better tomorrow.
It is because of the considerable abilities of the author in creating a realistic and poignant picture of ordinary people that I would be cautious in recommending this book to anyone. It is almost unbearably sad. I wish I had not read it; I will be depressed until I can suppress it in my memory, along with all the other things I do not choose to think about.
If I had read this in my younger years (It was published in 1971.), perhaps it would also have made melancholy, but I might also have been prompted to be more attentive and loving to my grandparents. So maybe I would recommend this to young people, almost as a cautionary tale saying, "Remember, you will be old yourself in time."
For older people (say, over 55), I would say, "Pass this one by. It is too true, because it is too well done. There's really nothing good to say about old age; it's not fun for anybody, really."
I said this book made me depressed; maybe I will feel better tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
I thought I knew what kind of book to expect from Haruki Murakami, having read and loved his novels The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Kafka on the Shore, Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, and 1Q84. I anticipated a fanciful and surrealistic story combined with a healthy dose of references to Western music and popular culture. The Western-culture references are present, but the plot is a straight-forward tale of the coming-of-age of a young Japanese student as he confronts isolation, love, guilt, the longing for human warmth, and death.
This is a much more "Japanese" book than the others of Murakami I have read, particularly in the tone and in the attitudes of the characters. In many ways, it is like a very Japanese version of Catcher in the Rye, with the differences being informed by the two differing ways the two cultures confront common problems. The tone is one of wistfulness and vague melancholy, much similar to that portrayed in many Japanese paintings and haiku poetry.
The title comes from the song by the Beatles, which one of the characters in the novel plays for her friends. Even though the Beatles could be considered the pinnacle of Western music, the lyrics and the sound do seem to reflect a very Japanese sensibility, and the line "This bird had flown" could very well be the theme of the novel.
I found this to be a very lovely and haunting novel. It vaulted Murakami to super-stardom in Japan. But it is not a typical Murakami novel at all.
This is a much more "Japanese" book than the others of Murakami I have read, particularly in the tone and in the attitudes of the characters. In many ways, it is like a very Japanese version of Catcher in the Rye, with the differences being informed by the two differing ways the two cultures confront common problems. The tone is one of wistfulness and vague melancholy, much similar to that portrayed in many Japanese paintings and haiku poetry.
The title comes from the song by the Beatles, which one of the characters in the novel plays for her friends. Even though the Beatles could be considered the pinnacle of Western music, the lyrics and the sound do seem to reflect a very Japanese sensibility, and the line "This bird had flown" could very well be the theme of the novel.
I found this to be a very lovely and haunting novel. It vaulted Murakami to super-stardom in Japan. But it is not a typical Murakami novel at all.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Geek Love by Katherine Dunn
Geek -- a carnival performer who performs wild or disgusting acts, such as biting the heads off chickens.
This is the story of the Binewski family. Here's a typical day in their lives: The father, Al, who supervised his wife's ingestion during pregnancies of narcotics, poisons, radioisotopes, etc., to produce their own family of "special" children, is busy managing his traveling carnival/circus/freak show; the mother, Lil, who was formerly a geek in the show, is cooking, sewing, and doing other typical motherly things; the oldest son, Arty, who has flippers instead of arms and legs, is performing in his water tank or exhorting his many followers to free themselves by having body parts amputated to become more like him; the daughters Elly and Iphy, who are Siamese twins joined from the waist down, are performing their four-handed piano act; the daughter Olympia (the narrator), a bald albino hunchback dwarf who is not quite freakish enough to have a show, is serving as Arty's helper and worshiper; the youngest son, Chick, who appears to be a norm but who has paranormal abilities, is assisting Dr. P in the operating room where Arty's followers are having bits of themselves removed.
Not your typical family, it would seem. And yet....
The narrative by Olympia is two-fold, telling of a present during which she tries to protect her normal (except for a small tail) daughter who was reared in an orphanage and hence does not know her, and telling of the past with her siblings. Both parts are often distasteful, grotesque, and violent. Reading this book is somewhat equivalent to attending a freak show (I would imagine) or watching certain reality television productions -- you are a bit disgusted and have a certain amount of guilt that you are watching, but you can't look away.
And yet the family dynamics portrayed are not unfamiliar to many families. And the book brings many questions to mind, such as what is "normal" and what is not, and why the "normal" long so desperately to be unique and distinctive instead of one of the crowd while at the same time being disturbed by those who are truly born different.
I think this book is one that most people could not put down, but whether or not they would like it after is perhaps another matter.
This is the story of the Binewski family. Here's a typical day in their lives: The father, Al, who supervised his wife's ingestion during pregnancies of narcotics, poisons, radioisotopes, etc., to produce their own family of "special" children, is busy managing his traveling carnival/circus/freak show; the mother, Lil, who was formerly a geek in the show, is cooking, sewing, and doing other typical motherly things; the oldest son, Arty, who has flippers instead of arms and legs, is performing in his water tank or exhorting his many followers to free themselves by having body parts amputated to become more like him; the daughters Elly and Iphy, who are Siamese twins joined from the waist down, are performing their four-handed piano act; the daughter Olympia (the narrator), a bald albino hunchback dwarf who is not quite freakish enough to have a show, is serving as Arty's helper and worshiper; the youngest son, Chick, who appears to be a norm but who has paranormal abilities, is assisting Dr. P in the operating room where Arty's followers are having bits of themselves removed.
Not your typical family, it would seem. And yet....
The narrative by Olympia is two-fold, telling of a present during which she tries to protect her normal (except for a small tail) daughter who was reared in an orphanage and hence does not know her, and telling of the past with her siblings. Both parts are often distasteful, grotesque, and violent. Reading this book is somewhat equivalent to attending a freak show (I would imagine) or watching certain reality television productions -- you are a bit disgusted and have a certain amount of guilt that you are watching, but you can't look away.
And yet the family dynamics portrayed are not unfamiliar to many families. And the book brings many questions to mind, such as what is "normal" and what is not, and why the "normal" long so desperately to be unique and distinctive instead of one of the crowd while at the same time being disturbed by those who are truly born different.
I think this book is one that most people could not put down, but whether or not they would like it after is perhaps another matter.
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