Fat Charlie Nancy isn't fat. All the stories are Anansi's. Don't talk to spiders, unless it's something you really mean.
Oh, and Neil Gaiman's still incredible.
These are the lessons I take away every single time I read this novel. It's probably my favorite of Gaiman's books--including any of the Sandman series. I know, I know, American Gods is incredible, but this is my favorite. And hey, it's in the same storyline anyway. So, shush, naysayers.
The story is about the two sons of Mr. Nancy, Fat Charlie and Spider. Before his father died, you see, Charles Nancy, nicknamed "Fat Charlie" by his father, didn't know he had a brother. And after he finds out, well, he can't wait to believe he's an only again. And that the world is as logical and boring as he'd led himself to believe, and that magic doesn't really exist.
Turns out Mr. Nancy is really the modern incarnation of Anansi, the West African spider god, the trickster. And he's not lost a bit of his trickster ways though he's become a somewhat modern man. Fat Charlie was subjected through a variety of embarrassments at the hand of his father as a child. Like the time Mr. Nancy told him that for President's Day, all the kids picked their favorite president and dressed up as them for school that day... so Fat Charlie showed up all decked out in his presidential finery. And he was the only one. Then there was his father's habit of taking him "mermaid watching." There weren't any mermaids. Mr. Nancy was also fond of performing what he referred to as the "miracle of the loaves and fishes."
"He loafs and he fishes and it's a miracle that he makes a living."
But the most embarrassing moment was his manner of death. During a particularly fine round of karaoke, singing directly at a group of sunburned tourists, Mr. Nancy had a heart attack, fell gracefully from the stage and managed to pull the top completely off the blondest tourist.
After Mr. Nancy's death, Fat Charlie is told he's got a brother by his neighbor Callyanne Higgler, (who's in fact responsible for the fact that Fat Charlie and Spider were separated to begin with). And all he has to do to meet him is pass a whisper to a spider. But when Spider shows up, he takes over Fat Charlie's life. He steals his fiancee. He impersonates him at his job and blackmails his boss (who's legitimately up to no good). He even turns the tiny spare bedroom of Fat Charlie's apartment into a window into an alternate space with a hot tub, giant TV and tropical scenery. To get rid of him, Charlie ends up making a deal he never should've made with one the god's from his father's world, who is in league withe his father's oldest enemy. In exchange for her word and a feather, he ends up offering her Anansi's bloodline if she makes his brother go away. Turns out though, Anansi's bloodline includes him. So he has to step up and find out how much he really is his father's son to save the day.
As usual I said a lot without saying much at all. What it wraps up to is this: I love Gaiman's odd humor. I like how overtly British everything is. I also like that it's one of the first non-Southern books I can remember reading where it's made pretty clear that none of the main characters are white. That's something I missed the first few times I read it, honestly. I don't know HOW, but I did. And I love all the stories about Anansi. I love the way he always ends up getting his, in the end. I love how matter of factly the stories are told. I love the descriptions of Tiger, so dark and bloodthirsty. I also like the casual references to American Gods throughout the narrative. And frankly, any book that has people having to flee in the face of hundreds of homicidal flamingos and then later homicidal penguins is pretty worthwhile right there.
Gaiman always seems to deal with unusual family situations, where it becomes abundantly clear that loving your family in spite of what you may view as their faults is infinitely better than losing them to something that wants to kill and/or eat them... or kill and/or eat you, depending on which you're reading. I like that. I like that his characters are often outsiders who can find a place to belong. And who hasn't felt that hope in their heart when they can't help but think there's no where in the whole wide world where they fit in?
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Let the Right One In by John Adjvide Lindqvist
I'm going to try to keep most of the really big shocks under wraps. I'm going to have to reread this to make sure I'm separating the book and movie because it's been a minute and the plot's getting muddled.
After seeing this movie a couple years ago, I was floored. The sound quality, the subtlety and the acting made this movie really stand out to me. It was a little twisted, too; naturally I had to read the book as soon as possible.
If you strip away the vampire part, this book is a love story between 12 year old Oskar and his new neighbor, named Eli who he sees as a very strange girl to whom he's mysteriously drawn. Eli is Oskar's friend and confidante, the one he takes his problems to after being victimized by school bullies for years.
But you can't strip the vampire away. Eli isn't a normal little girl. This is obvious from the moment Oskar first encounters her on the playground. He comments on her smell, noticing that honestly, she smells like she hasn't bathed in years. Because she hasn't and she's been out of practice being around normal people for so long, she's forgotten to clean herself. He sees her leap down from the top of the jungle gym, seemingly floating to the ground, he hands her a Rubik's cube that she returns completely solved the next day. And she begins talking to him by informing Oskar that they can't be friends, not ever.
While Oskar is trying to figure it out, he wonders if it's her very protective grandfather. Turns out, he isn't her grandfather. He's a pedophile who goes out and drains people's blood for Eli's sake in exchange for money. It's made clear, however, that he'd be perfectly willing to go without payment if he could only be intimate with Eli.
Oskar, meanwhile, has finally found a friend and an escape. He asks Eli to be his girlfriend. She doesn't say no, but her exact response isn't what it appears to be on the surface. She simply tells him, "I'm not a girl."
In spite of Eli's early warnings, they become very close. Eli becomes a protector and kind of mentor as well as a companion. She helps him fight back against the bullies who torment him. She is nearly discovered because she murdered one man, Jocke, by snapping his neck after draining him and a woman, Virginia, she's attracted the suspicion of a local man named Lacke who was friend to Jock and sometimes boyfriend to Virginia. Her guardian/pedophile is discovered while killing and willingly offers his blood for Eli. He falls from a hospital window, only to break open on the ground below. This doesn't stop him from becoming a vampire, however. Even undead, he still seeks out Eli. Virginia, in fact, also becomes a vampire and willingly commits suicide by exposing herself to sunlight while she's in the hospital.
The novel ends with Eli rescuing Oskar from the older brother of his main nemesis and Eli and Oskar leaving the city together, to meet what fate they may.
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
I'm embarrassed to say this is my first time reading this book.
This is embarrassing because I can vividly remember having at least a couple discussions with friends or customers about this title, recommending it heavily and even debating plot points. Honestly, I have no idea where I got any of what I was saying. Because the minute I started reading it, I realized, oh…. Yeah…. This is entirely new to me. (I had a similar experience with The Secret Garden and another book that I can't yet remember the name of. I'll keep you all updated, since I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat after my few months absence.)
But anyway, back to the book.
I absolutely adore this book. It's perfect for me. I have a very odd sense of humor and I adore picaresque novels, in which the hero of the novel isn't really a hero at all. In fact he's often a rogue or a loner or otherwise morally reprehensible or ambiguous. I may not be giving the most precise definition of picaresque, but it's close enough for government work. It's Spanish in origins, I believe and is more often than not satirical in nature. As a book snob and former English Major, I really should have a better handle on this, but you get the idea.
Anyway. The main character is just that. An anti-hero. And let me just say, I absolutely HATE Ignatius J. Reilly.
The descriptions of his room, his masturbatorial fantasies (that was a little difficult to read, I'll be honest), his habits, the way he speaks to his mother; he's disgusting. Honestly, the only thing I liked was his hat. I must admit that's a mighty fine hat. I do love his utter failure/mastery of his job as a clerk, his solution for the seemingly undignified position of hot dog vendor. Although I know at least a couple people who have been unable to complete the book because of their feelings towards Ignatius, I found his absolutely irredeemable nature to be the reason I became so fond of him in the end. Anyone that self involved, you almost have to root for him. He reminded me of the main character in Miniver Cheevy (a poem linked here), only much less passive in his contempt for the world.
I felt a deep affection for all these flawed characters. Myrna Mirkoff and her ridiculous reading of sexuality into every single act (though she's probably got a bit of a point). Irene Reilly, Ignatius' long-suffering mother, finally finding freedom and love with Mr. Robichaux (here's hoping there's no "communiss" around).
Lana Lee, who I absolutely adore and whose dual role as Madame and pornographer make so many delightful parts of the story possible, including Darlene's ambition to become an "exotic" in the Night of Joy club and parodying Scarlett O'Hara. And you can't forget Burma Jones... I adore him. Honestly, this book is rich with enjoyable moments and characters.
My absolute favorite part of the book, though, is the pornographic photo involving his copy of the Boethius, The Consolations of Philosophy. That has stuck with me stronger than almost any other image in the book. It was so brilliant, it really was.
In conclusion. I'm glad that this didn't end up being a re-read. Reading this book reminded me why I read at all, all the ideas and the hilarity and absurdity. It came at a time when I really needed it and I am so glad that I got to experience it for the first time.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
I'm sitting here, listening to Old Flame by The Arcade Fire (one of my favorite bands). And I adore this book, yet I can't think of a single thing to say about it. I've been trying to write this reaction for weeks.
Here's a summary, to begin with:
Perseus Jackson, known as Percy, is a 12 year old boy and strange things always happen to him... things that aren't his fault, but are so inexplicable that he gets blamed for them. As in most modern YA fiction, there's a supernatural reason he's been kept in the dark about. One day, after just such an event occurs, Percy's strange friend Grover tells him the truth:
Percy Jackson is a demigod.
His father is one of Greek gods. The incredibly stinky man his mother married? She choose him to protect her son. Demigods have a distinctive odor which attracts monsters. And the weird attacks and unexplained events and weird people who seem to mess up his life at school? Monsters that nobody can recognise because of the Mist, which disguises all monsters, from the eyes of the mere humans, the mortals. Grover isn't even a kid with a funny walk like he seems. He's a satyr, a half-human, half-goat. And his math teacher? Not a man in a wheelchair, but a centaur (half-man, half horse).
Grover's job is to go around and find demigods, like Percy, and escort them to the one place in the world they'll be safe: Camp Half Blood.
After some interesting misadventures and tons of really awesome, off-hand lessons in the way Greek mythology and history worked, they reach the camp. There are cabins for each of the gods of the Greek pantheon and nobody is aware of who Percy's father is, so he stays in the cabin for Hermes. During a particularly vicious game of Capture the Flag, he uses the power of a river to defend himself against a daughter of Ares and Poseidon's green trident appears above his head.
This causes a bit of a problem and a bit of a stir, as story goes that due to a prophecy that one of their children would make a decision at the age of sixteen that would either save or destroy Olympus, the three head gods, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades have vowed to stop having children... but looks like somebody's betrayed the oath, don't it?
After he moves into the empty cabin for Poseidon's children, his education in the ways of the demigods and Camp Half Blood continues. He finds an animosity and friendship with Annabeth, a daughter of Athena and Luke, a son of Hermes. He learns more and more about what he can expect his life to bel ike and the lives of those like him. Percy finds the camp is at least partially protected by another demigod named Thalia (a daughter of Zeus), who exists in the shape of a tree on the very border of the camp because she died protecting the two demigods who traveled to camp with her. But soon, disaster strikes. Zeus, finding out that Poseidon broke his oath, accuses Percy of stealing his Master Bold, the powerful lightning bolt that is one of the sources of his power. The rest of the book is about the adventures he has while just trying to clear his name and keep himself alive....
This is an EXTREMELY abbreviated summary and hardly any of my favorite moments were mentioned. I've had such a hard time typing this because it's so dense, so good but not at all overwhelming. I don't want to ruin the rest of the story for anyone, so I'm just gonna have to type from the hip, so I mean, let's put this out there.
I cannot say enough good things about this book to prospective readers at my job. It is a smart, fun, funny and engaging series. The movie looks incredible--I've seen the previews only but still.
I know everyone says "for fans of Harry Potter" and all that sort of stuff about this series, but honestly, this is just for fans of anything smart, anyone who appreciates a good metaphor for the awkwardness and insecurity of the early teen years. This is just for anyone who wants a good time.
So. Read it, kids.
Here's a summary, to begin with:
Perseus Jackson, known as Percy, is a 12 year old boy and strange things always happen to him... things that aren't his fault, but are so inexplicable that he gets blamed for them. As in most modern YA fiction, there's a supernatural reason he's been kept in the dark about. One day, after just such an event occurs, Percy's strange friend Grover tells him the truth:
Percy Jackson is a demigod.
His father is one of Greek gods. The incredibly stinky man his mother married? She choose him to protect her son. Demigods have a distinctive odor which attracts monsters. And the weird attacks and unexplained events and weird people who seem to mess up his life at school? Monsters that nobody can recognise because of the Mist, which disguises all monsters, from the eyes of the mere humans, the mortals. Grover isn't even a kid with a funny walk like he seems. He's a satyr, a half-human, half-goat. And his math teacher? Not a man in a wheelchair, but a centaur (half-man, half horse).
Grover's job is to go around and find demigods, like Percy, and escort them to the one place in the world they'll be safe: Camp Half Blood.
After some interesting misadventures and tons of really awesome, off-hand lessons in the way Greek mythology and history worked, they reach the camp. There are cabins for each of the gods of the Greek pantheon and nobody is aware of who Percy's father is, so he stays in the cabin for Hermes. During a particularly vicious game of Capture the Flag, he uses the power of a river to defend himself against a daughter of Ares and Poseidon's green trident appears above his head.
This causes a bit of a problem and a bit of a stir, as story goes that due to a prophecy that one of their children would make a decision at the age of sixteen that would either save or destroy Olympus, the three head gods, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades have vowed to stop having children... but looks like somebody's betrayed the oath, don't it?
After he moves into the empty cabin for Poseidon's children, his education in the ways of the demigods and Camp Half Blood continues. He finds an animosity and friendship with Annabeth, a daughter of Athena and Luke, a son of Hermes. He learns more and more about what he can expect his life to bel ike and the lives of those like him. Percy finds the camp is at least partially protected by another demigod named Thalia (a daughter of Zeus), who exists in the shape of a tree on the very border of the camp because she died protecting the two demigods who traveled to camp with her. But soon, disaster strikes. Zeus, finding out that Poseidon broke his oath, accuses Percy of stealing his Master Bold, the powerful lightning bolt that is one of the sources of his power. The rest of the book is about the adventures he has while just trying to clear his name and keep himself alive....
This is an EXTREMELY abbreviated summary and hardly any of my favorite moments were mentioned. I've had such a hard time typing this because it's so dense, so good but not at all overwhelming. I don't want to ruin the rest of the story for anyone, so I'm just gonna have to type from the hip, so I mean, let's put this out there.
I cannot say enough good things about this book to prospective readers at my job. It is a smart, fun, funny and engaging series. The movie looks incredible--I've seen the previews only but still.
I know everyone says "for fans of Harry Potter" and all that sort of stuff about this series, but honestly, this is just for fans of anything smart, anyone who appreciates a good metaphor for the awkwardness and insecurity of the early teen years. This is just for anyone who wants a good time.
So. Read it, kids.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
The Wild Things by Dave Eggers
This is the adult novelisation of the movie version of the children's book Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.
Take a moment. Read that twice. Think, oh, ok. And proceed.
The movie Where The Wild Things Are had its screenplay co-written by Spike Jonze (geeeeenius) and Dave Eggers (uber hipster writerman). In as much as the store penned by Sendak all those years ago is about himself.... and so the Spike Jonze movie is kind of about his version of being Max. And Eggers' version is his side of the story of being Max.
Now, I'm gonna post SOME of my thoughts here, but not all of them, as I've yet to see the movie. I promise I'll post a part two to this update as soon as I get a chance.
I loved this book. I mean, I do loves me some Eggers. He created the Haggis-on-Whey books (http://www.amazon.com/Giraffes-HOW-Doris-Haggis-Whey/dp/1932416978/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1262992030&sr=8-6), such as I enjoyed what I've read of his stuff and like everyone with even an ounce of hipster street cred, I was both amused and touched by A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. But I have to say, seeing him take a tiny children's story and place so much more into it made me smile a little more than I have at him in years.
For those who aren't familiar, WTWA (sendak's version) is about a little boy named Max who gets sent to his room without supper one night. Since his mother punished him, he decides to take a boat to an island where the (can you guess) the wild things live. He is fierce and wearing a wolf suit, so he is made their king. And the Wild Rumpus ensues, which involves tons of dancing and romping about. Eventually, though, he decides to return home... to find that his mother has laid a tray of supper for him in his room.
Well, the book is this, only moreso. It deals more with the loneliness and the issues surrounding his family. His sister is growing up and doesn't have time for him. His mother is dating someone, of whom he isn't a huge fan. He drenches his sister's room in water as revenge for her not defending him against her friends during a snowball fight. I don't want to go into too much detail, so as not to ruin this for anyone who is still planning on seeing the movie, so I'll just leave it at that and say that so far, this franchise (yes, it's a franchise now) did not disappoint.
Take a moment. Read that twice. Think, oh, ok. And proceed.
The movie Where The Wild Things Are had its screenplay co-written by Spike Jonze (geeeeenius) and Dave Eggers (uber hipster writerman). In as much as the store penned by Sendak all those years ago is about himself.... and so the Spike Jonze movie is kind of about his version of being Max. And Eggers' version is his side of the story of being Max.
Now, I'm gonna post SOME of my thoughts here, but not all of them, as I've yet to see the movie. I promise I'll post a part two to this update as soon as I get a chance.
I loved this book. I mean, I do loves me some Eggers. He created the Haggis-on-Whey books (http://www.amazon.com/Giraffes-HOW-Doris-Haggis-Whey/dp/1932416978/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1262992030&sr=8-6), such as I enjoyed what I've read of his stuff and like everyone with even an ounce of hipster street cred, I was both amused and touched by A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. But I have to say, seeing him take a tiny children's story and place so much more into it made me smile a little more than I have at him in years.
For those who aren't familiar, WTWA (sendak's version) is about a little boy named Max who gets sent to his room without supper one night. Since his mother punished him, he decides to take a boat to an island where the (can you guess) the wild things live. He is fierce and wearing a wolf suit, so he is made their king. And the Wild Rumpus ensues, which involves tons of dancing and romping about. Eventually, though, he decides to return home... to find that his mother has laid a tray of supper for him in his room.
Well, the book is this, only moreso. It deals more with the loneliness and the issues surrounding his family. His sister is growing up and doesn't have time for him. His mother is dating someone, of whom he isn't a huge fan. He drenches his sister's room in water as revenge for her not defending him against her friends during a snowball fight. I don't want to go into too much detail, so as not to ruin this for anyone who is still planning on seeing the movie, so I'll just leave it at that and say that so far, this franchise (yes, it's a franchise now) did not disappoint.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland.
I've read this book around fifty bajillion times, so forgive me if this is a little less... objective... than I tend to be about most of my selections.
I love this book. I don't care that it's the sort of ninties hopefully-sappy-yet-cynical that defines most angst literature/the gen-x mentality. I love it. I am unashamed to enjoy it, though I'm the first to admit that plot is kinda 'eh' and the end seems cheap.
It's about a woman named Liz Dunn... and as the title suggests, she is lonely. Isn't everyone? But that's besides the point. She describes her life through a series of current moments and much reflection. Liz's life is both lonely and filled with exceptional moments. The novel begins in the 'present' (which is terribly outdated now) when Liz finds a piece of meteorite and flashes back to when her son, Jeremy, first came into her life.
Jeremy is not a normal kid. He's 20, he's dying of multiple sclerosis and due to the disease's penchant to fry the nerves and misdirect electrical impulses in the brain and his history with his foster families (plural), when his sudden entrance into Liz's life is like an explosion. She has to reconnect with every aspect of her life as Jeremy serves as just enough of a catalyst to destroy the friction that ordinarily buffers her from interacting with her home, her co-workers and even her family. She tells the story of how she returned from a completely uncharacteristic trip taken to Rome pregnant with no memory of how such a thing could occur--Liz Dunn was fat as a child, and remains fat as an adult, with curly red hair.... this makes it plain to anyone who lives with any conception of the world that it's strange that this happened to her.
She has her son, he's adopted and years and years later, has tracked her down. His foster history has led him to feel that without his mom in his life, he's a write off. He has her information down as his emergency contact, a fact Liz is completely unaware of until one day when he ODs on "some lame party drugs" while attending a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Liz has a crash course in parenting and, cheesy as it sounds, in facing the reality of what day to day connection is like. It's pretty average, but the slight strange (and Canadian?) way they look at the world makes it stand out.
Jeremy's visions are probably my favorite part of the entire book. He gets these sudden impulses, sudden visions--everything with him is sudden. I guess when you're dying it's all that way, isn't it? I'll paraphrase my favorite:
Two lovers pass each other on the street. They had an ugly break-up. Their punishment is that every time they see each other, they rust a little, like robots. At the end they rust frozen in front of each other, forever.
Jeremy also has a series of recurring visions that serve to parallel both his life and Liz's problematic loneliness. They're visions of farmers and their wives, who've given up on the world, who believe that it is time for the end. They've destroyed their winter stores, they've accepted the end... only, a woman's voice tells them that this is not their path. They have made their decision and chosen wrong. The world isn't emptiness that's filled by relying on the end of destiny to create a point. You have to decide while you're alive what you fight for and if you want God to be a presence in your every day life.
The story ends after Jeremy's death, with Liz going to meet Jeremy's father and while doing so, shuts down the odd airport and ends up being imprisoned. You know, the usual.
Turns out the meteor isn't really a meteor... it's a chunk of a satellite. How much stuff can happen to this one woman, honestly? But the end gets a little Lifetime in that she falls in love with Jeremy's father and you can kinda guess how it goes from there. It seems like I left nothing to the imagination, but there's far too much going on for me to have covered it all... yet the book never feels overwhelming or overinvolved.
So, while this isn't the best book I've ever read, it has a place firmly in my heart.
I love this book. I don't care that it's the sort of ninties hopefully-sappy-yet-cynical that defines most angst literature/the gen-x mentality. I love it. I am unashamed to enjoy it, though I'm the first to admit that plot is kinda 'eh' and the end seems cheap.
It's about a woman named Liz Dunn... and as the title suggests, she is lonely. Isn't everyone? But that's besides the point. She describes her life through a series of current moments and much reflection. Liz's life is both lonely and filled with exceptional moments. The novel begins in the 'present' (which is terribly outdated now) when Liz finds a piece of meteorite and flashes back to when her son, Jeremy, first came into her life.
Jeremy is not a normal kid. He's 20, he's dying of multiple sclerosis and due to the disease's penchant to fry the nerves and misdirect electrical impulses in the brain and his history with his foster families (plural), when his sudden entrance into Liz's life is like an explosion. She has to reconnect with every aspect of her life as Jeremy serves as just enough of a catalyst to destroy the friction that ordinarily buffers her from interacting with her home, her co-workers and even her family. She tells the story of how she returned from a completely uncharacteristic trip taken to Rome pregnant with no memory of how such a thing could occur--Liz Dunn was fat as a child, and remains fat as an adult, with curly red hair.... this makes it plain to anyone who lives with any conception of the world that it's strange that this happened to her.
She has her son, he's adopted and years and years later, has tracked her down. His foster history has led him to feel that without his mom in his life, he's a write off. He has her information down as his emergency contact, a fact Liz is completely unaware of until one day when he ODs on "some lame party drugs" while attending a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Liz has a crash course in parenting and, cheesy as it sounds, in facing the reality of what day to day connection is like. It's pretty average, but the slight strange (and Canadian?) way they look at the world makes it stand out.
Jeremy's visions are probably my favorite part of the entire book. He gets these sudden impulses, sudden visions--everything with him is sudden. I guess when you're dying it's all that way, isn't it? I'll paraphrase my favorite:
Two lovers pass each other on the street. They had an ugly break-up. Their punishment is that every time they see each other, they rust a little, like robots. At the end they rust frozen in front of each other, forever.
Jeremy also has a series of recurring visions that serve to parallel both his life and Liz's problematic loneliness. They're visions of farmers and their wives, who've given up on the world, who believe that it is time for the end. They've destroyed their winter stores, they've accepted the end... only, a woman's voice tells them that this is not their path. They have made their decision and chosen wrong. The world isn't emptiness that's filled by relying on the end of destiny to create a point. You have to decide while you're alive what you fight for and if you want God to be a presence in your every day life.
The story ends after Jeremy's death, with Liz going to meet Jeremy's father and while doing so, shuts down the odd airport and ends up being imprisoned. You know, the usual.
Turns out the meteor isn't really a meteor... it's a chunk of a satellite. How much stuff can happen to this one woman, honestly? But the end gets a little Lifetime in that she falls in love with Jeremy's father and you can kinda guess how it goes from there. It seems like I left nothing to the imagination, but there's far too much going on for me to have covered it all... yet the book never feels overwhelming or overinvolved.
So, while this isn't the best book I've ever read, it has a place firmly in my heart.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffery Eugenides
I first read this novel at my first bookstore gig, Borders, back in 2005. Nothing has changed. No matter how many times, I read this novel, I come to the same conclusion: I don't get it.
I don't even know what it is I don't get. It is just the story of a group of five teenage sisters in the 1970s who through chance, genetics, circumstance or whathaveyou are all suicidal. By the end of the novel, none of them are alive. That's it, exactly what it says on the tin. But maybe it's the wistful almost distant way it's written, maybe it's the topic itself. I'm not even sure if I want this book to be about something more or something less.
The story is told through the eyes of a group of boys, personified by an anonymous first person plural narrator, who grew up in the same neighborhood as the Lisbon sisters. The writing takes places years and years after the girls' deaths. The 'evidence' they collected about the girls and their lives (most importantly, their deaths) is presented in a pseudo-detective sort of fashion, with evidence such as Exhibits numbers 1-98, witness and interviews with neighbors and people who knew the girls. It's a strange piece of voyeurism, honestly. The girls seem at times to be hyper aware of the fixation people have with them, other times its as if they retreat or simply don't care. It's as if understanding the Lisbon girls and why none of them chose to see her twenties becomes a metaphor for understanding the loss of innocence these men experience in their middle ages. Maybe it's sort of modern Greek tragedy. But where is the hubris? Where is the tragic, fatal flaw of the Lisbon girls? Maybe it's supposed to be about the death of the American dream personified by these suburban girls or specifically a "poignantly sharp and critical portrait of the suburban American life experienced by the baby boom generation," as Wikipedia suggests. I'm not sure.
And I have a feeling that like much like the narrator(s), I'm going to keep visiting this story again and again. I'm going to keep digging, keep searching for meaning, be it personal or universal in the girls' story. Because I can feel it in there, I just can't dig it out. Like the boys who spent their lives playing custodians, biographers, curators and keepers of the memories of the Lisbon girls, I too find I am haunted by the names and lives of Cecilia, Lux, Bonnie, Mary and Therese. Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to find whatever it is I'm looking for. As for now, I just don't know.
[Incidental note: This is one of the few times where I think I'm going to watch the movie to try to understand the book more. I've heard mixed reviews, but after all, it IS Sofia Coppola and I tend to enjoy her work.]
I don't even know what it is I don't get. It is just the story of a group of five teenage sisters in the 1970s who through chance, genetics, circumstance or whathaveyou are all suicidal. By the end of the novel, none of them are alive. That's it, exactly what it says on the tin. But maybe it's the wistful almost distant way it's written, maybe it's the topic itself. I'm not even sure if I want this book to be about something more or something less.
The story is told through the eyes of a group of boys, personified by an anonymous first person plural narrator, who grew up in the same neighborhood as the Lisbon sisters. The writing takes places years and years after the girls' deaths. The 'evidence' they collected about the girls and their lives (most importantly, their deaths) is presented in a pseudo-detective sort of fashion, with evidence such as Exhibits numbers 1-98, witness and interviews with neighbors and people who knew the girls. It's a strange piece of voyeurism, honestly. The girls seem at times to be hyper aware of the fixation people have with them, other times its as if they retreat or simply don't care. It's as if understanding the Lisbon girls and why none of them chose to see her twenties becomes a metaphor for understanding the loss of innocence these men experience in their middle ages. Maybe it's sort of modern Greek tragedy. But where is the hubris? Where is the tragic, fatal flaw of the Lisbon girls? Maybe it's supposed to be about the death of the American dream personified by these suburban girls or specifically a "poignantly sharp and critical portrait of the suburban American life experienced by the baby boom generation," as Wikipedia suggests. I'm not sure.
And I have a feeling that like much like the narrator(s), I'm going to keep visiting this story again and again. I'm going to keep digging, keep searching for meaning, be it personal or universal in the girls' story. Because I can feel it in there, I just can't dig it out. Like the boys who spent their lives playing custodians, biographers, curators and keepers of the memories of the Lisbon girls, I too find I am haunted by the names and lives of Cecilia, Lux, Bonnie, Mary and Therese. Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to find whatever it is I'm looking for. As for now, I just don't know.
[Incidental note: This is one of the few times where I think I'm going to watch the movie to try to understand the book more. I've heard mixed reviews, but after all, it IS Sofia Coppola and I tend to enjoy her work.]
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
Every time I pick this novel up again, I am completely sucked in.
Summary, courtesy of wikipedia:
But this novel laid bare the bones of the combination of two cultures. Oscar is a lot closer to his immigrant roots than I am... his mother came to the states after a beating in the Dominican Republic under the dictator Trujillo forced her to lose her first child. But still, the link is there. In his life is something not depicted by the iconic images of Americana. Only obscurely in my family tree can you find some light-skinned woman standing in her perfect model kitchen a la the 1950s. I've dealt with the issue of my heritage in a lot of odd ways. As a young child, I wanted to grow up to be a red-head with pale skin and green eyes or a blonde with blue eyes. Basically, I wanted to grow up white. I never considered my dark skin or brown eyes ugly or anything. But my heroes? The characters in the movies I loved? Ariel, the little mermaid and her pale sistern. Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield, the epitome of white girl California perfection.
So reading about Oscar's inherent uber-nerdiness? Having to struggle with his super macho male relatives attitudes towards his virginity? Yeah. I could identify with that, as well as the struggle and heartbreak each of his relative goes through just trying to live life. So much emphasis in Hispanic culture and literature deals with perseverence through tragedy, though the ties to your family history for good or bad and an overlaying passion that causes us to tilt at windmills, move to a different country to create a future for our families, defend whores that are married to gangsters. I think every Hispanic family has this rich culture of mythology and almost ghost stories that are passed down. A lot of the younger generations in America just roll their eyes--we're content to instead learn about Nintendo, the internet, gentrification, indie music, German heavy metal, Lord of the Rings and Dungeon and Dragons. I am the only Catholic out of all the grandchildren on my paternal side, and I'm not even confirmed. My grandfather was well along in his preparations to be a priest when he met my grandmother. Of course I over-identify with Oscar's love of anime and high fantasy instead of his own culture. I'm compelled to do so. It's in my blood, too.
But it seems to me that regardless of how much you ignore your elders' talking, it comes home to roost. If it's Oscar's family's curse, the thickening of your waistline into an exact replica of your aunt's or even the food you crave or a superstition. And this book made me wonder a lot more about all that aspect of my personality, as well as an incredible story that made me want to read everything Junot Diaz has ever written, ever. A very emotional, visceral blunt novel that still managed to leave me wanting more. Like I said, I love it.
Summary, courtesy of wikipedia:
The novel is an epic story narrated by Yunior de Las Casas, the protagonist of Díaz's first book Drown and chronicles not just the "brief wondrous life of Oscar Wao," an overweight Dominican boy growing up in Paterson, New Jersey and obsessed with science fiction and fantasy novels, with comic books and role-playing games and with falling in love, but also the curse of the "fukú" that has plagued Oscar's family for generations and the Caribbean (and perhaps the entire world) since colonization and slavery.
The middle sections of the novel center on the lives of Oscar's runaway sister, Lola, his mother, Hypatia "Belicia" Cabral, and his grandfather, Abelard, under the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. Rife with footnotes, science fiction and fantasy references, comic book analogies, various Spanish dialects and hip-hop inflected urban English, the novel is also a meditation on story-telling, Dominican diaspora and identity, masculinity, the contours of authoritarian power and the long horrifying history of slavery in the New World.
But this novel laid bare the bones of the combination of two cultures. Oscar is a lot closer to his immigrant roots than I am... his mother came to the states after a beating in the Dominican Republic under the dictator Trujillo forced her to lose her first child. But still, the link is there. In his life is something not depicted by the iconic images of Americana. Only obscurely in my family tree can you find some light-skinned woman standing in her perfect model kitchen a la the 1950s. I've dealt with the issue of my heritage in a lot of odd ways. As a young child, I wanted to grow up to be a red-head with pale skin and green eyes or a blonde with blue eyes. Basically, I wanted to grow up white. I never considered my dark skin or brown eyes ugly or anything. But my heroes? The characters in the movies I loved? Ariel, the little mermaid and her pale sistern. Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield, the epitome of white girl California perfection.
So reading about Oscar's inherent uber-nerdiness? Having to struggle with his super macho male relatives attitudes towards his virginity? Yeah. I could identify with that, as well as the struggle and heartbreak each of his relative goes through just trying to live life. So much emphasis in Hispanic culture and literature deals with perseverence through tragedy, though the ties to your family history for good or bad and an overlaying passion that causes us to tilt at windmills, move to a different country to create a future for our families, defend whores that are married to gangsters. I think every Hispanic family has this rich culture of mythology and almost ghost stories that are passed down. A lot of the younger generations in America just roll their eyes--we're content to instead learn about Nintendo, the internet, gentrification, indie music, German heavy metal, Lord of the Rings and Dungeon and Dragons. I am the only Catholic out of all the grandchildren on my paternal side, and I'm not even confirmed. My grandfather was well along in his preparations to be a priest when he met my grandmother. Of course I over-identify with Oscar's love of anime and high fantasy instead of his own culture. I'm compelled to do so. It's in my blood, too.
But it seems to me that regardless of how much you ignore your elders' talking, it comes home to roost. If it's Oscar's family's curse, the thickening of your waistline into an exact replica of your aunt's or even the food you crave or a superstition. And this book made me wonder a lot more about all that aspect of my personality, as well as an incredible story that made me want to read everything Junot Diaz has ever written, ever. A very emotional, visceral blunt novel that still managed to leave me wanting more. Like I said, I love it.
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