Uncovering Writing

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

An interesting read that I was turned on to by a BBC 4 In Our Time podcast, which showed that there were strong woman’s voices present in the literature in the early 15th century. Why I never heard of Christine de Pizan before is a personal and structural embarrassment. Perhaps because there was a little proto-feminism in her writing, although tempered by the times social and religious strictures? Regardless, a work worth reading and keeping on your shelf for future reference.

While laden with christian arrogance and some antisemitism, the book highlights many women throughout history, mythology and fiction who stand in stark contrast to the dominant male views of woman as weak, unintelligent, subversive, evil, cunning, shallow, etc. This book will serve as a great reference when encountering women in myth, fiction and history to see a different point of view of them. You will come across the Greek gods, Penelope and Odysseus, Achilles, Hektor, Dido, Aeneas, Ovid, Sappho (though sanitized and hetero-normalized), and many others.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was a quick read of a closet drama with its main moral of prioritizing something bigger than yourself. In this case, it is putting aside a bloody revenge feud between two Scots in order that they might fight together against the English. Gordon, the younger man, wants to kill Swinton, the aged and wise knight since Swinton killed his father. However, Swinton did this in order to revenge the death of his sons at the hand of Gordon’s father. Gordon is mocked by some of the leaders of the Scottish forces as bowing down to the man who killed his father, yet the two soldiers join together and are more honorable than the leaders in the end. The pacing of the story was excellent and I enjoyed reading it.

My rating: 2 stars.

I appear to have lost my taste for absurdist drama. This reminded me of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, which I loved reading and seeing performed in my teens and twenties. There are some clever parts and it’s cool to think of Hamlet while reading it. But, for me, it seems to be trying hard to be too clever.

I was so torn by trying to rate this OWC edition of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey and several short stories (one complete, two fragments). If I rated it based on Northanger Abbey, I’d have to give it 1 star. I hated it. I also disliked The Watsons and Sandition, though as these were unfinished or discarded manuscripts, it’s not fair to judge them too harshly.

But, were I to rate this collection solely on Lady Susan, I wouldn’t hesitate to say 5 stars immediately. I am a huge fan of the epistolary format. Mary Shelley (Frankenstein) and Goethe (The Sorrows of Young Werther) introduced me to this style and I’ve been drawn to it ever since. Lady Susan was a fast-paced, exciting story that used letters between the various actors to explain and further the plot and show us the characters internal and external thoughts. This story saved the volume for me! I loved it and couldn’t wait to read each succeeding letter.

I ended up choosing 3 stars for an overall rating. When I next pick up this book, maybe I’ll boost it up another star, to recognize Lady Susan.

A quick read and one that was mostly enjoyable. There were a few things that felt pretty sexist but then the author portrayed Susan Kingsfield as a strong woman.

The movie adaptation is one of my favorites, with an impeccable cast: Timothy Bottoms as Hart, Lyndsey Wagner as Susan and the esteemed John Houseman as Kingsfield. The film follows the story mostly, but at times it changes scene order or attributes actions to Hart that were done by others. The Susan character was definitely dialed back in the movie. She was much stronger in the novel, more independent and leading action not reacting to it.

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Like his other books, this novel started out fast. The pacing was great and I was pulled right in. But after about 30 pages, the pace slowed to a crawl and, for me, it never recovered. Like the two other books of his I read, the conclusion was rushed and seemed too neat. I’m happy I read this book but feel that The Flanders Panel or The Club Dumas are better works.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I first read the Stranger by Camus in high school. Then again after college, then once more, this time in French. I fell in love with his writing, consuming everything he produced. I read biographies of him. But then, I started to see the disconnect he had between what he wrote and how he viewed his birthplace in Algeria, the French colony where the native population didn’t have the same rights as the French colonizers. It complicated him for me and made me want to explore it more.

Kamel Daoud’s The Meursault Investigation, is just what I needed. He offers a take on Camus’s defining novel. It turns the story around, to look at the situation from the perspective of the murdered character’s brother. It’s eye-opening, to say the least. I never really thought about this when I read the Stranger, but the person Meursault murders is only called “The Arab.” He never gets a name or any humanity. Even at Meursault’s trial, the focus is more on the main character’s lack of sympathy regarding his mother’s death than the murder. Daoud’s novel calls that out and tries to re-inscribe the dead man, Musa, into the book of humanity. Through a wonderful re-use of The Stranger’s opening paragraph and the narrative device used in Camus’s later novel, The Fall, Daoud explores the murder of the narrator’s brother and what it does to him, his mother and his country.

The narrator beautiful states one core element of his thesis: “You can’t easily kill a man when he has a given name” (Ch. 5, p. 52). Camus called the murdered man “the Arab” or “an Arab”. But the narrator says “Arab. I never felt Arab, you know. Arab-ness is like Negro-ness, which only exists in the white man’s eyes” (Ch. 6, p. 60). Later, “He was Musa to us, his family, his neighbors, but it was enough for him to venture a few meters into the French part of the city, a single glance from one of them was enough to make him lose everything, starting with his name, which went floating off into some blind spot in the landscape” (Ch. 6, p. 61). From these three quotes, I felt a resonance with what is going on today in Baltimore, Ferguson, Sanford, Charleston and others cities across the US. My jaw just dropped, thinking how this Algerian, writing in French, in 2013, so nailed the events and discourses going on today in America.

The author also deals with religion and atheism throughout the novel. One line that stood out for me was: “How can you believe God has spoken to only one man, and that one man has stopped talking forever?” (Ch. 7, p. 69).

The Arab Spring is also touched upon, I believe. While talking about the newly independent Algeria of 1962, I feel he was also talking about today’s Libya, Tunisia, etc. Rebel groups, some extreme, some poor, some illiterate, came together to overthrow a bad government. But, once it was gone, they didn’t seem to want to go back underground, or dissolve. They like their newfound power and are unwilling to give it up so easily. Something to consider, both for countries that underwent these revolutions and for Western nations, especially the US, which want to dive into yet another war, arming anyone who will overthrow the tyrant du jour. A warning: remember that the US, in its proxy war with the Soviet Union, funded and backed extremist in Afghanistan. That didn’t work out too well in the long term for anyone on our planet.

This is an amazing read and one for people to read for so many reasons. And, if politics, religion, philosophy, etc. aren’t your thing, it’s still a really good story, well-paced, well-written and nicely translated.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Before finishing this book, I was thinking I was not going to rate it too high. As Werther’s unrequited love drove him to emotional, and then physical, extremes, I simply couldn’t find him sympathetic. He was intelligent and well off, but his self-centered desire diminished him for me. But, I read quickly to the end and really enjoyed this short novel. I realized that the beauty of the book was its story, so well told by a then 24-year-old Goethe. Even though I didn’t always like the titular character as a person, I wanted to know what he thought and how his story unfolded.

I must say I’m also a sucker for epistolary novels. I like seeing only through the words of the letter writer(s). It’s like listening in on a conversation, but only hearing one side of it. There’s so much you think about, like what the recipient thinks when reading it, as well as what was going on in the letter writer’s mind vs. what they actually put on paper. And, to be honest, there’s also the titillating feature of reading someone else’s private correspondence, as if sneaking a peak at a letter left on a table or discretely reading over someone’s shoulder.

The Sorrows of Young Werther is a book of moods. It looks deeply at relationships and also at nature. It is a Romantic book, the first I’ve read that wasn’t originally written in English. I’m happy to have read it.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I really enjoyed reading this work by Cervantes, especially in the older edition that I have. While some have put down Pierre Motteux’s translation, I felt that it was never too slapstick nor too dry. I laughed. I cried. I nodded. I smiled. The effort was also a bit of a workout, with each volume weighing just under three pounds. I really wanted to read this story. I think we all have heard bits and pieces of this story, and many phrases and ideas have been incorporated into Western culture.

While working through the first volume, I wondered what the heck was wrong with me for wanting to read this damn book. Things brightened in the second, especially with the tale of Dorothea and Cardenio. By the third volume, I was hooked, especially by the Duke and Duchess and the events surrounding them. I must say I was saddened as I turned the final pages of the last volume yesterday evening. There was a tad bit of a Hollywood ending, but I still felt close to Alonso Quixano and his alter ego, Don Quixote, and would miss him. Like his squire-errant Sancho Panzo, his hometown friends, family and others he met on his adventures, I cared deeply for this man made mad by romantic tales from the past.

This work is so multifaceted. Cervantes created new forms and brought together old ones in new ways. There are tales, stories within stories, meta-commentary (“breaking the fourth wall”), making the first part (published in 1605) part of the story in the second part (published in 1615) and so forth. He even goes so far as to include, and tease, a person who released a spurious second part that was published before Cervantes had finished writing the real second part to the story.

I liked many parts of the book, especially in the later volumes. As a reader, one I particularly enjoyed, was how an inn keeper recounts that farm workers would gather at lunch, during the hottest part of the day, and the one who could read the best would read aloud from old romances during their meal. It thrilled all of them and filled the listeners with such pleasure (Vol. 2, ch. 5, p. 87). I wrote a little note to myself to say “how wonderful is reading” and also that Cervantes certainly knew that.

I’ve read a few interesting articles lately about trying to find fiction books that come from more diverse sources. Much of what we read comes from a predominately white, male group of authors. And living inthe US means most of them are American. This isn’t to say many of those books aren’t great. But, there are plenty of great women writers, and writers of different backgrounds in the US. There are also many options from countries across the world. I’ve been very lucky that I’ve been exposed to some of these writers. I thank independent bookstores and online sites that highlight “unconventional” authors.

So, I got to thinking about what I’ve read and tallied up authors from 57 different countries. I thought that was pretty cool.  I’ve read almost all of them in English or English translation, but I’ve read several in French, one in German and snippets of pieces in classical Greek (Homer, Plato, Euclid and a few others). For some of the countries, I only read a short story, but each thing I read was both similar and unique.

I thought I’d share some stats. Countries I’ve read books from: Algeria, Australia, Austria-Hungary, Bolivia, Brazil, Canada, China, Czechoslovakia, England, France, Germany, Greece, Iceland, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Lebanon, Morocco, Nigeria, Norway, Russia, Scotland, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, United States of America and Wales. I have read one or more novels from 27 different countries. For eight of those countries, I’ve read both male and female authors. They are England, France, Greece, Italy, Japan, Norway, the US and Wales. I only read a female author for Brazil (Edla Van Steen), Czechoslovakia (Iva Pekárková), and Lebanon (Hanan Al-Shaykh).

I’ve read short stories from Albania, Austria, Belgium, Bosnia, Bulgaria, Croatia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Egypt, Finland, Hungary, Iraq, Latvia, Libya, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Macedonia, Netherlands, Palestine, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Sudan, Syria, Tunisia and Yemen.  Most of these came from three books: An Anthology of Modern Palestinian Literature, Arabic Short Stories and Best European Fiction 2010.

This post isn’t meant to “toot my own horn” but to show people that there are so many books out there that are a pleasure to read and mind-expanding.  As you can see from my blog, I read a great deal of 18th and 19th century British literature and poetry, but I still seek out other ideas, other points of view to enrich my life.  I still have a lot to read!

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

How often do you find a favorite book? I’ve had a few over the years, ones that changed me, stayed with me, became a part of me. Isaac Asimov’s Foundation Trilogy. Frank Herbert’s Dune. Albert Camus’ The Fall and then Paul Bowles’s The Sheltering Sky. John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath and In Dubious Battle resonated immediately with my beliefs and efforts.

And then there are books that not only become my favorites but also showed me the beauty of the writing craft. Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita. Homer’s Iliad (translated by Edward, Earl of Derby), Percy Shelley’s Ozymandias, Allen Ginsberg’s Howl.

And now I add Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose. To my favorites, to the top of my favorites, actually. In plot, character development, storytelling, and just beautiful language, Eco has crafted a masterpiece. His philosophical discussions and analysis of religious battles were spot on. Eco’s main character, William of Baskerville, says to the main antagonist, “They lied to you. The Devil is not the Prince of Matter; the Devil is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt” (p. 477).

And the discussion of books, in their illuminated beauty, secrets and knowledge, had me from the start. Eco loves books, as does William. He writes of the abbey that is the center of the story: “just as knights displayed armor and standards, our abbots displayed illuminated manuscripts” (p. 184). And as William looks at these books, Eco writes “We stopped to browse in the cases … could linger and read the books, at every title he discovered he let out exclamations of happiness, either because he knew the work, or because he had been seeking it for a long time, or finally because he had never heard it mentioned and was highly excited and titillated. In short, for him every book was like a fabulous animal that he was meeting in a strange land” (p. 310). While Eco loves books, he doesn’t put them on pedestals to be seen but not read. “Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to inquiry. When we consider a book, we mustn’t ask ourselves what it says but what it means” (p. 316).

I originally started reading this as an e-book, but after getting about 1/3 of the way through, I realized I wanted, I needed, to own a physical copy of the book. I picked up an excellent used copy at Capitol Hill Books in DC. The edition I have includes Eco’s postscript, which talks about his writing the book. It’s as good, and as important, as the novel itself.

What a book, and right out of the gate … this was his first novel.

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

The challenges to noble society that Horace Walpole explored in The Castle of Otranto are crushed somewhat by Clara Reeve’s The Old English Baron. By articulating a desire to hold to traditional norms, Reeve wraps up things too nicely and everyone is happy and lives onward. Perhaps she was prescient of a Hollywood adaptation of her novel? But, I enjoyed reading the story to its proper conclusion. Further, Reeve continues to develop the gothic form that would reach its height with Ann Radcliffe.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A great beach read. It surely has some contrived plot devices and some cardboard characters, but it is just fun and I had to finish it. I love gothic literature and you can see the roots Walpole created that would be honed over generations of writers.

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I’ve always wanted to read Jane Bowles, as I’ve read everything her husband Paul Bowles wrote. I almost picked up “My Sister’s Hand in Mine”, her collected works, several times. I finally saw an old edition of her only novel at the Southwark Book Market in London in 2013 and almost bought. This primed me, so that when we were in Boulder in April this year, I bought this new edition from the Boulder Book Store, a fantastic indy bookstore right on Pearl Street. I finally got a chance to read it this weekend.

I was a bit disappointed. I never engaged with the characters. I thought the language was stilted at times and mostly written in Hemingway-esque short, simple sentences, which I don’t like.

But, I did think there were a lot of possibilities, especially with the storyline of Mrs. Copperfield and her husband. In some ways, this reminded me of the story of Kit & Port Moresby from her husband’s first novel, The Sheltering Sky. It explored themes of fear, travel vs. tourism and exploring and expanding boundaries. Jane Bowles novel was published six years before Paul’s, so I wonder if he was influenced by her work and explored some of the same themes in his writing.

The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I wanted to like this novel but couldn’t get excited about it. With murder mysteries, I tend to like ones where the crime is intricate, you don’t know “whodunit” or you have an endearing detective figuring out the situation.

In the Devotion of Suspect X, the crime coverup seemed unbelievable and the characters were never developed beyond the basics. It seemed more like a sketch of a mystery rather than the finished product.

Natsuo Kirino’s Out remains my favorite novel for this type of mystery.

The Italian by Ann Radcliffe

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I thoroughly enjoyed Ann Radcliffe’s The Italian. While it wasn’t a very deep story, it was well-told and kept me turning pages. At times, the plot twists were a tad melodramatic but she always kept the suspense high throughout three volumes, moved the plot swiftly and tied many threads together by the end. She didn’t explain everything, but I enjoy not having everything neatly tied up. It lets the reader enjoy and continue the story through their own mind.

I was impressed that Radcliffe, writing in 1797, suggests that torture is never a valid method for eliciting truth. Innocents will create false confessions just to stop the pain (vol. 2, p. 199, original text). Today, 217 years later, some still don’t realize that torture is both wrong and useless. She goes further by having one of her lead characters, Vivaldi, comment on the torturer: “that any human being should willingly afflict a fellow being who had never injured, or even offended him; that unswayed by passion, he should deliberately become the means of torturing him, appeared to Vivaldi nearly incredible” (vol. 3, p 312 Oxford World Classics complete edition).

Some might have problems with Ann Radcliffe’s verbose and descriptive language, but this should be savored not feared or dismissed. She was at the cusp of the Romantic movement that explored natural beauty and description of everyday experiences, and her prose is expansive in describing scenery and emotions. Sure, one could probably compress these three volumes into one, or maybe even a novella, but I believe such an effort would diminish the beauty of the journey.

It was a joy to hold these books, both old and new. The leather-bound editions with their old style script and spelling methods were scrumptious. The new Oxford World Classics edition had a wonderful introduction and useful reference materials. Finally, on a personal level, it was fun that one some of the characters were from an area at the base of the Tyrolean Alps. Some of my family is from this area!