inthelouvre.org

Simon Winchester - The Meaning of Everything

I finished this one really late last night and so all my thoughts and ideas went with me to bed. Hopefully I can remember the majority of them, though my dream last night was entirely unexpected so I seem to be stuck thinking on that (hopefully, for the reader’s sake, I won’t be integrating any of it into this post). In any case, I can simply state that I really loved this book. Not only was my interest in learning the history of the Oxford-English Dictionary (OED from here on in) carrying me through the text, but so was the appealing writing style, the tidbits of information and small life stories. At first it felt like I was reading a few select events that were related but didn’t necessarily connect on a chronological timeline, but when I finished each chapter and then, of course, the book, I realized how everything did fit completely and perfectly well, and how comprehensive this book is. It even got me interested in reading the author’s other book on a related subject, The Professor and the Madman, and before I had even finished this one I was already asking Richard to buy me the next.

Just in telling the basic story of “how to make an all-comprehensive dictionary, or try to,” I had already learned so much that I wouldn’t have even thought about. How does one go about the task of defining every word in the English language? How daunting! And indeed it was. But not only does Winchester detail the roles of each person - paid or volunteered - he also dedicates a chapter to those who volunteered their time and efforts. He asks:

We do not really know why so many people gave so much of their time for so little apparent reward. And this is the abiding and most marvellous mystery of the enormously democratic process that was the Dictionary — that hundreds upon hundreds of people, for motives known and unknown, for reasons both stated and left unsaid, helped to chronicle the immense complexities of the language that was their own, and that they dedicated in many cases years upon years of labour to a project of which they all, buoyed by some set of unfathomable and optimistic notions, insisted on becoming a part (215).

And I can’t answer this question, but I know that I would be really enthralled to help with a project of this sort. That if the current revision of the OED had branched out and, if necessary, asked for “readers” to read and scan recent works of literature searching for unusual words being used in illustrative contexts, I would jump at the chance. Why? Is it to be part of something larger, something I know has a great impact on the world, and will for ages to come? Is it a love of words and language and reading? Is it because I read this book which is in essence a very successful promotion for the OED? (On that note, I want one unabridged; and though I did before I read this, I want it more now.) These, and more, are questions that each contributor might have had to ask themselves after scouring thousands of pages of literature looking for words. And at the time, maybe, they didn’t know this would be such an influential part of history; maybe they didn’t even know it would be published! Why does one decide to dedicate their time to this, sometimes their life?

Anyway, that was something that struck me as one of the most interesting parts of this book, and I was really intrigued by how Winchester went about going into the lives of these people. Of course, he couldn’t detail all of their lives - space, the real subject of the book, and inavailability of information - but that he touched on them at all impressed me. I didn’t expect it, though I was wondering it as he mentioned their part in the making of the OED throughout the book.

To Amanda

But it’s always looming, you know. I always expect it to happen again, and to flatten me. My eyes probably look really sad right now, though I’m not crying or anything. I’ve only just realized how totally frightening trust is, how exciting and scary love is, and how much of a risk you take by letting someone love you. It’s not even being in love, it’s giving your heart to someone else to hold, and expecting them to take care of it. That’s different from just loving someone. When you love someone (and they let you), you hold their heart. I know I can take care of hearts - but can he take care of mine?

Laura Lippman - Baltimore Blues

When I first started this book, I was totally distracted by all the references to Baltimore sights, so I may have missed a lot of what was going on (details, people, are very important in mysteries!). Fells Point is one of my favorite places to visit, so seeing it mentioned so often in this book had me saying, “I know exactly where she is!” more than “I wonder what happens next!” However, I quickly got deep into the story and started wondering more about the case at hand, rather than getting ecstatic about locations.

As I predicted contemplating this book after reading Miss Zukas and the Library Murders, I enjoyed it much more and will definitely be pursuing the rest of the Tess Monaghan books. It was much “deeper” than the former – that is, more in depth with the characters, with clues spattered here and there throughout the mystery, and of course more red herrings that really kept things going. I’ve not only acquired an appreciation for mystery writing from this book alone, but I’ve also found myself interested in picking up more – visiting again, perhaps, Mystery Loves Company, a bookstore in Fells Point which apparently this author visits frequently. (I’ve been there before, but it was about five minutes before closing time and I quickly picked out a mystery set in Ancient Rome and then left without the chance to really “consume” the bookstore’s atmosphere, as I enjoy doing. In any case, I think the name of the shop is so clever that I wouldn’t be able to resist going again even if I didn’t like mysteries.)

When I finished the Dereske book (mentioned above), I didn’t feel quite like I had wasted time; however, I felt akin to people who purchase books at the airport just so they can have something to do while they’re on the airplane. Light, “dumb” reading, as it were. I don’t want to say it was a crappy book, because it wasn’t, but it was very succinct and I rather enjoy getting engrossed into something and having it not let me go until the end. Baltimore Blues did this efficiently. I didn’t want to ever put the book down, and recall reading more than a third of it right before work one day, and being really upset that I had to leave it. That’s coming from someone who loves her job!

The mystery books that I bought for the summer mystery challenge were purchased from the used bookstore at which I work and my original intent was to read them all and then return them all for store credit so that I can buy books in other genres which I enjoy much more. However, to give you an idea how much I really loved this book, I’m going to keep Baltimore Blues, along with every other Laura Lippman book I read. Maybe I’ll want to read it again some day, or maybe I just want it on my shelf to remind me of what a good book is. The point is, it’s opened my mind to mystery writing on a completely different level (one which I did not expect). I just hope the rest that I read are as well written!

Nice.

Really productive day, which I always like. I organized the living room and one of the hall closets, unpacked nearly all the boxes and bags and put things in their places (things have places now!). I broke a good sweat listening to Neutral Milk Hotel and Belle & Sebastian records, stopping every once in a while to sing along to the last song then flip to the other side. I also sorted and put away laundry in anticipation of all the work I’ll be doing tomorrow - organizing the bedroom and unpacking boxes there. I’ve been here for over two months and I finally get the sense that I’m “moving in,” rather than just “setting things down.”

Ben Fountain - Brief Encounters with Che Guevara

I don’t usually like short story collections, but one of the things I really liked about this is that the stories weren’t initially capturing, but something about the next page completely hooks you and you’re stuck reading it for the next 15 minutes, completely engrossed. When you come out of it, you feel like days have gone by - or for that matter, however many days are in the story you just read. It’s not that they’re long or contain a lot of detail; I think it’s more than they’re character-driven, and you tend to feel more part of it than reading about it.

I also like that all the stories within this collection are very similar – there are heroes, or characters who are trying to do something to improve. They’re not just trying to improve their own situation, but also the lives of those around them, whether they are people in a town or an endangered species. They care, but by the end of the story are usually overwhelmed by whatever the issue is at hand and either give in and give up, or get so completely into the ideal that die trying to fight it. Either way, they find only defeat. There is something holding them down, whether it is death itself or a question that they can’t answer.

I read each story in between books, which is why it took me so long to complete. It was the first story, “Near Extinct Birds of the Central Cordillera,” that taught me how to read short story collections. If they’re written well enough (and this was, I assure you), one doesn’t simply continue onto the next story after she’s read the first. Apparently, one spends most of one’s time reading the next story reflecting on the first story that one must re-read many passages throughout the second story. I never really got all of it.

In that, I’m sure I can continue to call myself “not a fan” of short story collections. I like to be able to continue to the next story — or chapter, as it were — without pause. I like to stop and reflect when the book is finished, not after every 10 pages. Some might say a good full-sized novel will cause you to stop and reflect after every word, but I find this bothersome. When I’m in the mood for reading, I want to continue reading.

In Conversations with Robert Graves, the book I finished earlier today before reading the last short story in Brief Encounters, Graves mentions something about avoiding certain word-endings in his prose whenever possible, because without realizing it readers will concentrate on those words and become distracted while trying to continue reading. It’s the same when books will have typographical errors – parentheses that don’t close or quotes that don’t ever seem to end, even when you know where they should. You end up becoming distracted by that line even if you don’t realize it, and you don’t fully grasp what else you’re reading. It’s sort of the same for me with books in general – I’d like to be able to keep going, and I find I can’t do that with short story collections. I have to stop, too distracted by the previous story to continue on to the next.

But I broke the process and continued on to “Reve Haitian,” which then didn’t get all the attention I’m sure it deserved. So instead, I decided read a story after completing a book as my transition between the two – something else to think about, so I wouldn’t still be thinking of the last book as I went into the next book. Though I found myself thinking of the common themes among all the stories, it still took much less reflecting time to think on a short story than it did on a book. For example, I laid out my thoughts for Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis, then sat and thought about “The Lion’s Mouth” for a briefer moment. After that, I continued onto my next book.

However, after reading a few of them, I wondered how the book would end. I wondered if there would be a short story illustrating why the stories follow such a pattern; is it a cultural matter? Is it part of a belief system? Or is it how people inevitably felt during that time, that no matter what they tried to do for good, they’d always eventually be slapped in the face and put into order? Or otherwise they’d feel lost and without direction? Cut for length or spoilers »

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