February 28, 2008
Feb
'08
Today’s Booking Through Thursday question is: Who is your favorite female lead character? And why? (And yes, of course, you can name more than one . . . I always have trouble narrowing down these things to one name, why should I force you to?)
1. Lyra from the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman. She’s just so… badass. At thirteen years old she not only saves her own world, but saves other dimensions as well (okay, with a little help…). She has the strongest mind of a lot of female characters I’ve read in the past few years, and though her age shows, she’s nonetheless selfless and helpful. Her mission in life is to do the right thing.
2. Lucy from the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. I’m going for the L’s here. But seriously, she was the most willing to believe in possibility. As I understood it, she liked to make up stories, but when she became one it excited her all the more. None of it ever seemed odd to her - it fit right in place with her life - and I like that about her.
3. Cordelia from Shakespeare’s King Lear. Off the bat, she’s disowned for refusing to praise her father like her other sisters do. She’s the most level-headed in the whole play (in my opinion) but also the most strong-willed. She’s married based on her virtue, and her loyalty to her father (despite being kicked out of the family) strengthens throughout the play. She still refuses to give empty flattery to King Lear, but in the end she ends up forgiving him for his idiocy.
It must be very difficult to write female characters with any dimension or personality - either that, or I’m reading the entirely wrong books. I had to dig through my past reading lists just to think of these (except Lyra, who has always stood out in my mind). I had to remind myself whom I admired. There just weren’t a lot that I really loved. I spent last year trying to read more female authors; maybe this year I’ll try to read more female characters. 
How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read by Pierre Bayard
Feb
'08
Everything I read about this book before I read it promised a witty, beautifully styled text that advised the reader on how to, well, talk about books he hasn’t read, but also how to deal with social situations in which the reader finds himself having to lead intellectual discussions about a book he hasn’t read. The word I latched on to was “witty,” thinking this was going to be a serious joke book - extremely hilarious writing about a topic that needs real consideration. Like when humorists write about politics.
Instead, I found this to be an STB. No, that doesn’t mean “sexual transmitted book.” You see, books are mentioned throughout this book, as would make sense; the author gives comments on each book - whether he has not heard of the book (UB - unheard of book), books he has skimmed (SB), books he has heard about (HB), and books he has read but forgotten (FB). He then rates them. Well, I am going to call this an STB (slept-through book) with a rating of ++, which is the highest possible rating. I don’t want to imply that the book was boring; it wasn’t the book’s fault that I read it late into the night after having gotten very little sleep the night before. (Well, I suppose if you really think about it, it is the book’s fault for being so interesting that I didn’t want to put it down; however, I sort of feel that since the book gives advice on how to talk about books you haven’t read, I can rightly talk about this book which I only partially read.)
It wasn’t witty. Or if it was, I didn’t get it. It’s French humor, I suppose, and I put that in italics because this book taught me to not be afraid of culture and being open, and perhaps a little bit because that’s how everyone refers to the French. In any case, I was initially disappointed by the lack of hilariousness, since that’s what I’d expected, but the book wasn’t by any means boring. In fact, as I’ve mentioned, it was quite interesting - so interesting that I hadn’t initially planned on writing an entry about it, but now I feel like I must.
The book takes the reader through many styles of non-reading, which I found interesting as I’m also finding my way through How to Read A Book by Mortimer J. Adler (FB++). I haven’t picked it up since October, when we moved into this apartment and I misplaced it, but the similarities in the way I seem to recall (but have also entirely forgotten) reading styles are described (whether reading or non-reading) is interesting to think about. It’s entirely possible, as this book has proven, to talk about books which one hasn’t read, or which one has skimmed, or in some cases which one has actually written but forgotten that he’s written it (Bayard uses Montaigne (HB+), while I would probably use Süskind’s tribute to Montaigne(FB++)).
In any case, all examples are taken from books. Either Oscar Wilde has said something in his personal essays (HB++) about avoiding books, or a character in Robert Musil’s The Man Without Qualities (HB+) has the opinion that reading a book is not quite as important as understanding a library. It reminded me of writing papers in college, and I suppose this makes perfect sense as it’s written by a college professor who probably expects the exact same kind of writing from his students. (The style of, “Let me provide quotes and then reword these quotes into terms that are more easily understood by your tiny brain.”) These books: I’m not sure if they’re supposed to all be books that everyone is “supposed” to have read. I know that The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco (SB++, because while I just finished it, I only understood about half of it - I may as well have skimmed it) is one of those, and so is Shakespeare’s Hamlet (HB-). The other examples used are perhaps socially “required” in France.
It’s true, I’ve never read Hamlet. Until now, I never realized how unashamed I am of not having read the “required reading.” One of the first thing Bayard suggests is to get rid of that feeling of guilt that you haven’t read something everyone else says they have read. I’ve read Paradise Lost (FB++), but I haven’t read The Perks of Being a Wallflower (HB–), which is one of those books that everyone has read but which I feel is highly overrated. Yes! That’s right! I’m saying things about books that I haven’t read! I also haven’t read any of the Oprah books, which in my opinion are all crap, nor have I read William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies (HB+), which I regularly recommend to customers at my bookstore who are trying to decide which reading list title to read (nevermind that it’s usually the shorter selection).
It reminds me of an instance when I worked at a corporate bookstore (if you’re unaware, I’m working independent now). Someone had asked if we carried any William Makepeace Thackeray, author of Vanity Fair (HB–). I had never heard of the author. I didn’t know what he wrote or who he was or why I should care except to help the customer find his books. I was then insulted, told that I was “wasting my education” as a college student because I wasn’t familiar with the author. Since then I’ve collected several of the author’s books but I haven’t read any of them. I’ve now realized that it was out of shame of not having heard of Thackeray that I decided to start collecting his books. I say! I’ll not pick up any of his books again, because How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read has made me realize how unnecessary my guilt is, how afraid of culture I was, how utterly terrified I was that someone would think I wasn’t “smart enough” or “well-read enough.” (Mind you, I enjoy collecting books for other reasons, but when I seek out authors I’ve never read, it’s probably either for this reason or because I want the full collection.)
I purchased Robert Musil’s The Man Without Qualities several years ago - volumes one and two. It’s an incredibly thick book; they both are. I’ve mused about reading it now and again. I don’t remember my original reason for buying it - probably because it has a librarian as a character - but I was surprised to see it used as the first example in this book. I’ve been using quotes and examples from it which I’ve found on the Internet probably subconsciously thinking that someone would see that I’ve used examples from this book and think I was cool enough for their culturally enhanced club. They probably lie about reading Hamlet, too, although I’d like to say that I’ve never lied about reading Shakespeare. He’s too difficult outside of a classroom setting.
I’ve digressed. What this book boils down to is an alternative take on how we read. Its title implies that it’s entirely about not reading; indeed, the back cover implies as much also, but what I found I like most about it is that it ends up being about reading style. It wants you to pay more attention to how and what you’re reading; it wants you to realize that it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read something, or even if you have. It really doesn’t matter if you have every Shakespeare play memorized, or if you have an Oscar Wilde quote for every occasion. Society presses these “certain books” that we all must have read and frowns upon those who still have them on a “to be read” stack. Is it necessary? According to this book, the purpose of reading is to add to our autobiographies, to create (”To talk about books you haven’t read is an authentically creative activity, as worthy - even if it takes place more discreetly - as those that are more socially acknowledged” (182).), to invent, to be open to what the book is or isn’t saying.
Have you ever heard someone say that they’ve “absorbed” a book? Think instead that the book has absorbed you, or a little part of you. Instead of leaving itself inside you, you’ve left a little bit of yourself inside it. Whether you’ve read it through entirely (and thus given immeasurable amounts of yourself and your time to a block of paper), skimmed it (leaving only traces), or read someone else’s review of it and decided that was sufficient (giving the book your thoughts, but not your soul), you’re creating something new whenever you encounter a book. It doesn’t always end up being the same book.
How to Be Mean for No Reason
Feb
'08
I’ve come here to recommend a book that Richard and I are completely fascinated with and often spend several minutes each night reading out of. It’s called Deliberate Acts of Needless Meanness and it’s authored by Justin Rosenholtz. One of the most interesting aspects of it, to me, is that it’s authored only by one person, which means that this one person came up with 366 hilarious ways to be horribly mean. They aren’t really simple like, “Throw rocks at children.” They’re very complex and witty and extremely hilarious; yet sometimes it feels very wrong to be reading or owning this book at all.
It’s divided into sections and each unnecessary mean act is labeled as a “day” - making a leap year of very rude things to do to everyone in the world. The best part is that you don’t have to have a reason! Chapters include “Strangers,” “Parties,” “The Office,” “Friends and Neighbors,” “Family,” “Holidays,” “Dating,” “Partners,” “Ex-Lovers,” and the last one which is labeled under “And Finally…” but which I personally don’t find to be particularly mean. It does, however, manage to include all of the aforementioned chapters so I suppose it wraps up everything very nicely, but as it’s Day 366, I assume you can only accomplish it on a leap year.
In any case, I’d like to give a few examples just to give you an idea of how awesome this book is. It’s really brought Richard and I closer together. We both give hearty “oh no!”s and say “that’s so awful” to the same things, thus illustrating the opinions we have in common. Enjoy!
Day 7: No book with a bookmark in it should be left without moving the bookmark to a different page. That’ll cure the bookworms of their intellectual pretensions and teach them to watch television like normal people.
Day 41: At the beach, bury some cans and worthless metal. Then watch all the dreary metal-detector guys get excited because they think they’ve found something immensely valuable.
Day 123: Surreptitiously spray your boss’s coat with tacky perfume before he leaves the office. Imagine him going home and having to explain to his wife why he smells like a cheap whore.
Day 150: Play a game with your friends. Ask them to estimate each other’s IQs by secretly writing them on pieces of paper. Then surreptitiously replace most of the pieces of paper with suggestions under 100. Observe the consternation of the dimwits as they argue with each other.
Day 192: Send an email to everyone in your family telling them how much you love them, but leave out one person, preferably the sibling with the lowest self-esteem. When they ask why you didn’t include them, say, “Oh, I forgot you existed.”
Day 234: Is your friend depressed because they have been dumped? Be sure to send them a Valentine’s Day card signed by the person who dumped them. Imagine their horror when they hopefully call their ex only to find out it was a hoax.
Day 259: Flirt incessantly with the person at the next table (only if they are on a date, too). Go off and have sex with them if possible. With luck you can be mean to two people in one evening.
Day 303: As a mean partner, it is your sworn duty to miss the last five minutes of anything your partner asks you to record for them.
Day 358: Take photos of your ex’s overfriendly cat and print up your own missing posters, promising a huge reward if found. Every time someone sees the poor kitty they’ll take him home and annoy your ex for money.
There are quite a lot more clever and interesting ones but it’s a small book and hard to hold open while typing. Perfectly pocket-sized, however, in case you’d like to carry it around with you!
This is What Love Is
Feb
'08
FutureMe.org never fails to amaze me. I got one of my letters from several years ago sometime in November and I’d forgotten all about it by then. I’ve been writing myself letters here and there since then, but I’ve just received one that I sent to myself last year on Valentine’s Day. It’s beautiful.
The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Wednesday, February 14, 2007, and sent via FutureMe.org
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Dear Future Me,
So, obviously, it’s Valentine’s Day 2007 and you’re sitting in the apartment with Aimee and Eddie in the other room; Richard is in the bathroom and you’re smiling.
Today was a great day. You woke up at 7 am to work at 9, but around 7:45 you found out that the mall wasn’t going to open until 12. Patrick said you didn’t have to come in until then, then later said you could come in whenever you wanted - but to be safe, because there were insane amounts of snow today topped with ice and freezing cold rain (later, when you got back home, you slipped in the ice and Richard picked you up and held you, kissed you softly and danced with you before you two went inside).
He took you to IHOP and you had pretty amazing corn cake pancakes (eat them again, it’s worth it), then you worked an 11-6 shift. When you got off work, you were given the choice of 1, 2, or 3, with no explanation, so you chose 2 (don’t you always?). This amounted to an evening at Olive Garden. Since they don’t take reservations, you and Richard sat out in the car for 45 minutes and that’s where you gave him that pop-up card book and that’s when his eyes got teary and your heart fell apart.
Option 1 was Silver Diner because it was your favorite restaurant, option 2 was Olive Garden because it was where you guys had your first semi-official date together, and option 3 was that yummy Chinese buffet.
After Olive Garden, you guys went to Walmart where you bought $57 worth of DVDs which I’m sure by the time you read this email you’ll have enjoyed greatly in his company.
When you got home, he gave you the entire Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire box set (6 volumes) by Edward Gibbon, and after he got out of the bathroom he had you look at the mark on his butt to see if it was a pimple or a mole.
Then you looked into his eyes and fell in love all over again.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
This year for Valentine’s Day, I told him exactly how I felt in words so large he couldn’t have missed them.
We’re a little tight on money at the moment, so instead of a grand tour of the restaurants in the area like he did last year, this year he’s making us chicken and we’re going to snuggle down to a non-romantic movie in a romantic setting and later I’m sure we’ll look deeply into each other’s eyes and smile a lot.
This is what love is.
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
Feb
'08
I read a review once that said this book automatically brings your IQ up when you read it. I’m going to agree and disagree with that statement - it implies that other books don’t, which makes me wonder what else the reviewer has been reading, because I’ve felt “very smart” after reading a lot of books this past year. It’s true, however, that the reader is required to think on a certain level of understanding in order to get through this book. The reader has to be able to follow William’s logic both through Adso’s interpretation of it and on an outsider’s unbiased level. Otherwise, theoretically, the reader can’t ever solve the mystery even though it’s been hypothetically solved. Cut for length or spoilers »
