This Book will Save Your Life
A.M. Homes
2006
Certain books are awkward to read on the bus: Valley of the Dolls (because the cover is pink and it's Valley of the Dolls), Gone with the Wind (what if people think you're a confederate?) Lorrie Moore's Self-Help (it's not).
Anyway, I didn't read a single page of This Book will Save Your Life on a bus or waiting for a bus, but I did read it on the light rail and had to assure one man that it was a novel and not a cry for help.
Unlike Valley of the Dolls, which is best consumed in your home, This Book is worth the risk.
It's the second book in a row that I've had a hard time putting down. Just try not to look sad when you're reading it.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Let's scrub!
Music to Wash Dishes By: Volume 1
Music by The Hi-Fives, The Queers, Ten-Four and Scared of Chaka
Zine by Dishwasher Pete
Much of Dishwasher Pete's zine is typed, but his intro isn't and it must be said that he has very neat handwriting. But two of the guys in the bands also write, and maybe their handwriting isn't so great, so type is probably best.
I bought the record for Troy. He didn't wash any dishes while listening, but he says he will. I know I would. There are four songs -- along with some inspirational words on the importance of clean dishes to any restaurant -- so if you have a big job (maybe you made a complicated meal or let your dishes pile up for a few days; it's OK, it happens), you might run out of music. Also, if you don't remember records, you have to turn it over after the first two songs. But you could use a break anyway.
The music and zine are a tribute to professional dishwashing, but don't worry, you can totally use them at home, too.
Troy thought the music sounded kind of like the Dead Milkmen. I thought it had a Le Tigre quality, by which I mean one song used the F-word a lot.
Music by The Hi-Fives, The Queers, Ten-Four and Scared of Chaka
Zine by Dishwasher Pete
Much of Dishwasher Pete's zine is typed, but his intro isn't and it must be said that he has very neat handwriting. But two of the guys in the bands also write, and maybe their handwriting isn't so great, so type is probably best.
I bought the record for Troy. He didn't wash any dishes while listening, but he says he will. I know I would. There are four songs -- along with some inspirational words on the importance of clean dishes to any restaurant -- so if you have a big job (maybe you made a complicated meal or let your dishes pile up for a few days; it's OK, it happens), you might run out of music. Also, if you don't remember records, you have to turn it over after the first two songs. But you could use a break anyway.
The music and zine are a tribute to professional dishwashing, but don't worry, you can totally use them at home, too.
Troy thought the music sounded kind of like the Dead Milkmen. I thought it had a Le Tigre quality, by which I mean one song used the F-word a lot.
Monday, September 11, 2006
A tour de good book
The Accidental
Ali Smith
2005
In the wrong hands, a rotating perspective could be gimmicky, but Ali Smith does well. She rotates the third-person perspective among four family members and the brief first-person accounts of the woman who fleetingly presents themselves in their lives, transforming them.
The best chapters belong to the kids -- 12-year-old Astrid and Magnus, a teenager. While the family is fundamentally unhappy, the siblings have a genuine affection for each other and there's a bit more whimsy surrounding them.
At one point Michael, the stepfather, disintegrates into verse. This is something else that could have gone terribly wrong. It was OK, though. He's a smarmy English professor, though Smith makes him so smarmy that it makes the cliche outrageous.
The mother, Eve, is a bit of a doormat, though she would tell you she just chooses not to be bothered by her husband's smarm.
I read a few reviews after reading the book, and more than one referred to it as a "tour de force." I really can't believe book reviewers think it's OK to do that. Are critics the only people who don't think that phrase has played itself out?
This is near the top of my recommended books for 2006. I'll have it back to the Pratt by Sept. 21.
Ali Smith
2005
In the wrong hands, a rotating perspective could be gimmicky, but Ali Smith does well. She rotates the third-person perspective among four family members and the brief first-person accounts of the woman who fleetingly presents themselves in their lives, transforming them.
The best chapters belong to the kids -- 12-year-old Astrid and Magnus, a teenager. While the family is fundamentally unhappy, the siblings have a genuine affection for each other and there's a bit more whimsy surrounding them.
At one point Michael, the stepfather, disintegrates into verse. This is something else that could have gone terribly wrong. It was OK, though. He's a smarmy English professor, though Smith makes him so smarmy that it makes the cliche outrageous.
The mother, Eve, is a bit of a doormat, though she would tell you she just chooses not to be bothered by her husband's smarm.
I read a few reviews after reading the book, and more than one referred to it as a "tour de force." I really can't believe book reviewers think it's OK to do that. Are critics the only people who don't think that phrase has played itself out?
This is near the top of my recommended books for 2006. I'll have it back to the Pratt by Sept. 21.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Birthday reading
Betraying Spinoza: The Renegade Jew who Gave us Modernity
by Rebecca Goldstein
2006
When this book landed in my hands last month, but for the inside flap I couldn't have told you who Baruch Spinoza was. And that can be the best kind of reading -- a random book, this one in the form of a birthday gift, that can lead to further reading. (In this case, though, I'm not sure I'm ready for further reading. I think my understanding of of Spinoza's rationalism has more to do with Rebecca Goldstein's teaching than my intellect.)
If you can really wrap your head around Spinoza, then you can solve the problem of the self and therefore solve the problem of God and evil and death. I am far from there, but Goldstein is an able guide who has made the concept clear. (Can I explain it to you? No. You will have to read the book; I am sorry.)
Spinoza was excommunicated from his Jewish community in 1656, but he was certainly not irreligious:
Even with centuries of hindsight, though, it is difficult to grasp Spinoza's version of salvation and easy to see why it earned a hostile response from organized religion.
by Rebecca Goldstein
2006
When this book landed in my hands last month, but for the inside flap I couldn't have told you who Baruch Spinoza was. And that can be the best kind of reading -- a random book, this one in the form of a birthday gift, that can lead to further reading. (In this case, though, I'm not sure I'm ready for further reading. I think my understanding of of Spinoza's rationalism has more to do with Rebecca Goldstein's teaching than my intellect.)
If you can really wrap your head around Spinoza, then you can solve the problem of the self and therefore solve the problem of God and evil and death. I am far from there, but Goldstein is an able guide who has made the concept clear. (Can I explain it to you? No. You will have to read the book; I am sorry.)
Spinoza was excommunicated from his Jewish community in 1656, but he was certainly not irreligious:
"All the ceremonies of the superstitious religions, all the slanted versions of their own histories, are founded on the irrational -- and irreligious! -- desire to make God love us in return, and the indulgence in the jealous fantasy that he loves us -- our kind, our people --more than others.
"... Men worship as if it is an arbitrary and exceedingly vain tyrant whom they must placate and flatter, each religion declaring itself more worthy of His favor. This is how all religions distinguish themselves from one another. ... Like children fighting for their parents' attention, they never realiza that everyone's true happiness and blessedness consists solely in the enjoyment of good, not in priding himself that alone he is enjoying that good to the exclusion of others."
Even with centuries of hindsight, though, it is difficult to grasp Spinoza's version of salvation and easy to see why it earned a hostile response from organized religion.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Let's ride
Sometimes people ask me how to ride the bus. I have to admit, I am pretty good at having exact change, and it can be confusing for a first-time rider. The change slot on Baltimore buses isn't where I want it to be. Then, sometimes the stop-requesting mechanism is broken, and if no one more aggressive than you wants your stop, you have to shout, "Next stop, please" in front of all the bus people, who are totally going to make fun of your shouting style once you get off.
But on any given Baltimore City bus with at least a smattering of riders, there is probably at least one person who is talking to -- sometimes screaming at -- no one. Life is not generally easy for this person. Yet, this person somehow gets it together enough to board, ride and exit the bus at the proper time and in the proper manner.
Let this person be an inspiration to you.
The book part of this is something I saw a few weeks ago at Atomic Books: How to Live Well Without Owning a Car.
I appreciate the spirit of the book, and the numbers on the cost of car ownership are persuasive, but I'm not sure a book is necessary. If it helps people realize that it's not so hard to live without a car, then a common-sense book isn't a bad thing.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
I don't get the title
The Constant Gardener
John Le Carre
2001
Maryann did an excellent job of breaking in the mass paperback edition of The Constant Gardener. The spine was broken, the covers a bit wrinkled. Physically, it was a pleasure to read. That's maybe 60 percent of the reason I finished it.
At one point, all these characters' computers are wiped out by viruses (planted by the forces of evil, of course), and they all lament the loss of their e-mail, possibly including unread messages. I am willing to believe that some people were using programs like Lotus and Outlook to download their e-mail automatically. But all of them? Especially because some of these people were dealing with sensitive and irreplaceable information.
Also, there is no "constant gardening." Our protagonist had a garden, and there's intermittent talk of it, and freesia are a plot point. But a better title might be The Former Gardener or Mediocre Thriller where the Main Character Likes Plants.
Or maybe it's a metaphor -- even though his wife's dead, he's a constant gardener of her work. Right.
John Le Carre
2001
Maryann did an excellent job of breaking in the mass paperback edition of The Constant Gardener. The spine was broken, the covers a bit wrinkled. Physically, it was a pleasure to read. That's maybe 60 percent of the reason I finished it.
At one point, all these characters' computers are wiped out by viruses (planted by the forces of evil, of course), and they all lament the loss of their e-mail, possibly including unread messages. I am willing to believe that some people were using programs like Lotus and Outlook to download their e-mail automatically. But all of them? Especially because some of these people were dealing with sensitive and irreplaceable information.
Also, there is no "constant gardening." Our protagonist had a garden, and there's intermittent talk of it, and freesia are a plot point. But a better title might be The Former Gardener or Mediocre Thriller where the Main Character Likes Plants.
Or maybe it's a metaphor -- even though his wife's dead, he's a constant gardener of her work. Right.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Kafka on the Sho-ore
Kafka on the Shore
Haruki Murakami
2005
The book gets its title from a song one of the characters wrote about 30 years before the book begins. And I want to sing the title to the Smiths' "Girlfriend in a Coma." Of course "Kafka on the Shore" is one syllable short, so I am merely driving myself crazy.
"Kafka" is the name a 15-year-old runaway gives himself, and I'm uncomfortable with such obvious allusions. So, there's the song "Kafka on the Shore," then there's the boy Kafka Tamura, who has nothing to do with the song, oh, except that he does. And, also, "kafka" apparently means "crow," in some language. Czech, maybe?
The story of Kafka the runaway alternates chapters with the story of Nakata, sort of an idiot savant, though that's oversimplifying matters. Nakata, who talks about himself in the third person, can talk to cats (because we all have our talents!) until he can't. Then they intertwine. Of course.
Interspersed is a lot of talk about literary and musical theory. And things get a bit heavy-handed. People have monologues, and I get bored. But not so bored that I didn't want to finish.
Haruki Murakami
2005
The book gets its title from a song one of the characters wrote about 30 years before the book begins. And I want to sing the title to the Smiths' "Girlfriend in a Coma." Of course "Kafka on the Shore" is one syllable short, so I am merely driving myself crazy.
"Kafka" is the name a 15-year-old runaway gives himself, and I'm uncomfortable with such obvious allusions. So, there's the song "Kafka on the Shore," then there's the boy Kafka Tamura, who has nothing to do with the song, oh, except that he does. And, also, "kafka" apparently means "crow," in some language. Czech, maybe?
The story of Kafka the runaway alternates chapters with the story of Nakata, sort of an idiot savant, though that's oversimplifying matters. Nakata, who talks about himself in the third person, can talk to cats (because we all have our talents!) until he can't. Then they intertwine. Of course.
Interspersed is a lot of talk about literary and musical theory. And things get a bit heavy-handed. People have monologues, and I get bored. But not so bored that I didn't want to finish.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
No, the other June
Three Junes
Julia Glass
2002
A friend told me to read Three Junes a few years ago, so I can finally cross that one off my list.
In my mind, it was always about three women named June. But it's about three Junes in three different years, so a plot involving three women named June remains up for grabs.
Julia Glass gives us a family from different perspectives -- a husband, one each from two sons and a an outsider. The life of family is hardly just one thing or one way, and you're pivotal experiences may be lived completely differntly by the others involved.
Julia Glass
2002
A friend told me to read Three Junes a few years ago, so I can finally cross that one off my list.
In my mind, it was always about three women named June. But it's about three Junes in three different years, so a plot involving three women named June remains up for grabs.
Julia Glass gives us a family from different perspectives -- a husband, one each from two sons and a an outsider. The life of family is hardly just one thing or one way, and you're pivotal experiences may be lived completely differntly by the others involved.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
The immigrant man
Brick Lane
by Monica Ali
2003
I meant to be reading The Accidental by Ali Smith, but I went in search of "Ali" instead of "Smith" at the library and found Brick Lane, which I'd vaguely remembered hearing good things about. So next trip, it's to the S's.
It reminds me of White Teeth, though Ali was born in Bangladesh and her focus -- her whole world, really, is the Bangladeshi immigrants. What they have in common is London and the ridiculous (but mostly lovable) major male characters. Though in Ali's book, the ridiculous men are sad and not comedic like Zadie Smith's are. They also both have characters with the last name Iqbal, though Smith's Iqbals are much more prominent in her story.
In Brick Lane, Nazneen arrives in London a young bride in an arranged marriage. She is scared and longs for home. Her husband, Chanu, is much older than she and has been in London for more than a decade. He is always planning on going home and building a house in Dhaka.
Though for many years she barely leaves the apartment complex, Nazneen somehow understands more and accepts more about her new home than her husband seems to. Chanu has hopes (or maybe illusions) that she sees through rather quickly.
The other women in the book seem to be more perceptive about their new homes, too. Maybe it's because they make more connections among themselves than the men do. Or maybe it's because they largely don't have to face the outside world every day and live up to expectations back home.
by Monica Ali
2003
I meant to be reading The Accidental by Ali Smith, but I went in search of "Ali" instead of "Smith" at the library and found Brick Lane, which I'd vaguely remembered hearing good things about. So next trip, it's to the S's.
It reminds me of White Teeth, though Ali was born in Bangladesh and her focus -- her whole world, really, is the Bangladeshi immigrants. What they have in common is London and the ridiculous (but mostly lovable) major male characters. Though in Ali's book, the ridiculous men are sad and not comedic like Zadie Smith's are. They also both have characters with the last name Iqbal, though Smith's Iqbals are much more prominent in her story.
In Brick Lane, Nazneen arrives in London a young bride in an arranged marriage. She is scared and longs for home. Her husband, Chanu, is much older than she and has been in London for more than a decade. He is always planning on going home and building a house in Dhaka.
Though for many years she barely leaves the apartment complex, Nazneen somehow understands more and accepts more about her new home than her husband seems to. Chanu has hopes (or maybe illusions) that she sees through rather quickly.
The other women in the book seem to be more perceptive about their new homes, too. Maybe it's because they make more connections among themselves than the men do. Or maybe it's because they largely don't have to face the outside world every day and live up to expectations back home.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Gateway drug
The rules at Bertucci's were clear on reading at work: don't. But I worked in the carryout alone many afternoons, and after the lunch rush there were only so many times I could wipe the counter and only so many balls of pizza dough I could prepare for the hostesses to give to kids.
So in between avoiding the cook who seemed to hate me and ringing up pizza orders, I sat (also frowned upon), for sometimes luxurious stretches, and read Kurt Vonnegut books.
Maybe "gorged myself" is more accurate. I started with Cat's Cradle, then Slaughterhouse Five and didn't stop until I'd exhausted the incomplete Kurt Vonnegut collection at the Newtown Square Public Library.
By the time I left Bertucci's at the end of the summer, I'd had my fill for a while but probably would have read just one more if it had been handed to me.
I hadn't known books could be funny and engaging, but also smart and serious and real. Suddenly, I just wanted to spend all my time reading.
Something similar had happened in high school when a friend lent me The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but I didn't go on a Douglas Adams binge after reading it.
It was a year or so after college when I read Kurt Vonnegut again -- a copy of Breakfast of Champions I'd moved with twice after picking it up at used bookstore in Washington. I enjoyed it, but it didn't inspire the fervor my first taste had.
But if Kurt Vonnegut didn't give me a lifelong passion for Kurt Vonnegut, he did give me a lifelong passion for books.
So in between avoiding the cook who seemed to hate me and ringing up pizza orders, I sat (also frowned upon), for sometimes luxurious stretches, and read Kurt Vonnegut books.
Maybe "gorged myself" is more accurate. I started with Cat's Cradle, then Slaughterhouse Five and didn't stop until I'd exhausted the incomplete Kurt Vonnegut collection at the Newtown Square Public Library.
By the time I left Bertucci's at the end of the summer, I'd had my fill for a while but probably would have read just one more if it had been handed to me.
I hadn't known books could be funny and engaging, but also smart and serious and real. Suddenly, I just wanted to spend all my time reading.
Something similar had happened in high school when a friend lent me The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but I didn't go on a Douglas Adams binge after reading it.
It was a year or so after college when I read Kurt Vonnegut again -- a copy of Breakfast of Champions I'd moved with twice after picking it up at used bookstore in Washington. I enjoyed it, but it didn't inspire the fervor my first taste had.
But if Kurt Vonnegut didn't give me a lifelong passion for Kurt Vonnegut, he did give me a lifelong passion for books.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Oh, so geisha aren't fancy hookers
Memoirs of a Geisha
Arthur Golden
1997
In a way, Memoirs of a Geisha reminds me of Gone with the Wind, only less crappy and less racist and whatnot. Oh, and the heroine is way less bratty than Scarlett O'Hara.
But there is a war (World War II) and it ruins an elegant existence (that in this case isn't even quite so elegant to everyone living within it -- no happy slaves in Kyoto).
Because the story opens with Sayuri, the geisha of the title, living in New York City and reflecting on what looks like a happy life, it's not giving anything away to say that things turn out better for her than for Scarlett. They didn't turn out the way I expected, though. (I expected less joy and more acceptance.) After spending 400 pages with her, I really felt she deserved a good outcome.
Arthur Golden
1997
In a way, Memoirs of a Geisha reminds me of Gone with the Wind, only less crappy and less racist and whatnot. Oh, and the heroine is way less bratty than Scarlett O'Hara.
But there is a war (World War II) and it ruins an elegant existence (that in this case isn't even quite so elegant to everyone living within it -- no happy slaves in Kyoto).
Because the story opens with Sayuri, the geisha of the title, living in New York City and reflecting on what looks like a happy life, it's not giving anything away to say that things turn out better for her than for Scarlett. They didn't turn out the way I expected, though. (I expected less joy and more acceptance.) After spending 400 pages with her, I really felt she deserved a good outcome.
Friday, July 14, 2006
The old white man series
The Plot Against America
Philip Roth
2004
The premise of The Plot Against America is what if instead of electing Franklin Roosevelt to a third term, Americans had elected isolationist, anti-Semitic Charles Lindbergh president?
I love the concept of what-if-history-were-different books, but the execution can be awful. (See Stephen Fry's Making History, on what if Hitler were never born, for a bad one.) This is Philip Roth, though, and we are in able hands.
The Plot Against America is a story less about the historical concept than about a nation afraid. The Jews are afraid of a U.S. progrom. The rest of the country is afraid of war. They like hearing that the U.S. can stay out of World War II -- this Jew war -- and that their sons won't have to fight and that everything will be fine.
What happens in Philip Roth's World War II isn't even so different from what happened in the real one. In Roth's world, the Jews are targeted and forced to move. In the real history, Japanese-Americans weren't treated so well.
And even in Philip Roth's world, history doesn't get that far off course. Things are terrifying for a lot of people for a few years, but then they get back to normal. The narrator refers to Robert Kennedy's assassination after he wins the California primary in 1968, so I have to believe that Philip Roth's history ends up unfolding just like the real one.
A note on the authors
With the John Updike and the Philip Roth, I've been reading lots of old white men (though Updike wasn't so old when he wrote Rabbit, Run). But there are female and nonwhite and non-American authors in my reading pile, I promise.
Philip Roth
2004
The premise of The Plot Against America is what if instead of electing Franklin Roosevelt to a third term, Americans had elected isolationist, anti-Semitic Charles Lindbergh president?
I love the concept of what-if-history-were-different books, but the execution can be awful. (See Stephen Fry's Making History, on what if Hitler were never born, for a bad one.) This is Philip Roth, though, and we are in able hands.
The Plot Against America is a story less about the historical concept than about a nation afraid. The Jews are afraid of a U.S. progrom. The rest of the country is afraid of war. They like hearing that the U.S. can stay out of World War II -- this Jew war -- and that their sons won't have to fight and that everything will be fine.
What happens in Philip Roth's World War II isn't even so different from what happened in the real one. In Roth's world, the Jews are targeted and forced to move. In the real history, Japanese-Americans weren't treated so well.
And even in Philip Roth's world, history doesn't get that far off course. Things are terrifying for a lot of people for a few years, but then they get back to normal. The narrator refers to Robert Kennedy's assassination after he wins the California primary in 1968, so I have to believe that Philip Roth's history ends up unfolding just like the real one.
A note on the authors
With the John Updike and the Philip Roth, I've been reading lots of old white men (though Updike wasn't so old when he wrote Rabbit, Run). But there are female and nonwhite and non-American authors in my reading pile, I promise.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Half of a good book
The Eyre Affair
Jasper Fforde
2002
Jasper Fforde has a knack for making the absurd believable. Things unfold at a brisk -- but unrushed -- pace. And then it seems like he got tired of it and just decided to wrap it up as quickly as possible.
Thursday Next is a literary detective, and The Eyre Affair is part detective story, part science fiction, part fun with books. She ends up inside the narrative of Jane Eyre. This is billed as the plot, but this happens in only the last 100 pages or so, and the rest is a lot of build up to that.
Once Thursday is inside Jane Eyre, the book really starts to unravel. Thursday has lines like, "I wondered if Landen had ever loved me as much as Rochester loved Jane."
Sigh.
Back in the real world, Thursday meets up with her Landen (after an overused plot point that would be giving too much away to elaborate on, but it's cliche).
Then everything gets resolved in 18 pages. I feel kind of cheap, really.
Jasper Fforde
2002
Jasper Fforde has a knack for making the absurd believable. Things unfold at a brisk -- but unrushed -- pace. And then it seems like he got tired of it and just decided to wrap it up as quickly as possible.
Thursday Next is a literary detective, and The Eyre Affair is part detective story, part science fiction, part fun with books. She ends up inside the narrative of Jane Eyre. This is billed as the plot, but this happens in only the last 100 pages or so, and the rest is a lot of build up to that.
Once Thursday is inside Jane Eyre, the book really starts to unravel. Thursday has lines like, "I wondered if Landen had ever loved me as much as Rochester loved Jane."
Sigh.
Back in the real world, Thursday meets up with her Landen (after an overused plot point that would be giving too much away to elaborate on, but it's cliche).
Then everything gets resolved in 18 pages. I feel kind of cheap, really.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
The last of Rabbit, or halfway to 50 books
Rabbit at Rest
John Updike
1991
Over four books (about 1,500 pages), you really get to know a guy. And what I took away from Harry Angstrom is that life is long and short, and hard and easy. You kind of float along and things happen to you. Or you might snap out of the floating. Our roles in life are constantly changing. There's not much separating life and death. People get fat. They get pathetic as they age, or they really come into their prime.
Harry's granddaughter is born the same year I was, and he is a man behind the times, or maybe just of his own time. He talks about "queers," isn't quite racist but isn't quite not racist, isn't quite sexist but isn't quite not sexist.
But somehow I've been able to relate more to him than the men at the center of Independence Day and Herzog. And as I move onto other books, I miss him.
John Updike
1991
Over four books (about 1,500 pages), you really get to know a guy. And what I took away from Harry Angstrom is that life is long and short, and hard and easy. You kind of float along and things happen to you. Or you might snap out of the floating. Our roles in life are constantly changing. There's not much separating life and death. People get fat. They get pathetic as they age, or they really come into their prime.
Harry's granddaughter is born the same year I was, and he is a man behind the times, or maybe just of his own time. He talks about "queers," isn't quite racist but isn't quite not racist, isn't quite sexist but isn't quite not sexist.
But somehow I've been able to relate more to him than the men at the center of Independence Day and Herzog. And as I move onto other books, I miss him.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
A girl and her Docs meet a girl and her guitar
"Both Hands"
Ani DiFranco
circa 1998
Until the annual talent show, I didn't even know that Lisa K. played guitar, but she was more than just marching band piccolo.
She played Ani DiFranco's "Both Hands," and I think that was it. It could have been very good or very bad; I don't remember much except needing to have that song to listen to it over and over and over. Until then, I didn't know music could be like that -- raw and painful and strong.
I bought my first Ani DiFranco CD at the Borders next to Peace A Pizza (ravioli available as a topping, my friend) and Hope's Cookies. Because it was there or whatever the '90s version of FYE was called. I thought Borders was more likely to have it. And they did have it, plus 97 other Ani DiFranco albums.
And I played it and played it and played it (even the spoken word parts). And when Little Plastic Castle came out, I bought it and played it and played it and played it -- along with the other albums I'd bought along the way. I was going to listen to Ani forever and ever and ever.
In college, though, we lost touch a bit. Oh sure, I'd put her on a mix every once in a while, but I didn't hear her every day, and I was certainly skipping the spoken word tracks.
Recently, though, we got reacquainted when I listened to Nick Hornby's Songbook. "You Had Time" might be my "Both Hands" of this decade.
Ani DiFranco
circa 1998
Until the annual talent show, I didn't even know that Lisa K. played guitar, but she was more than just marching band piccolo.
She played Ani DiFranco's "Both Hands," and I think that was it. It could have been very good or very bad; I don't remember much except needing to have that song to listen to it over and over and over. Until then, I didn't know music could be like that -- raw and painful and strong.
I bought my first Ani DiFranco CD at the Borders next to Peace A Pizza (ravioli available as a topping, my friend) and Hope's Cookies. Because it was there or whatever the '90s version of FYE was called. I thought Borders was more likely to have it. And they did have it, plus 97 other Ani DiFranco albums.
And I played it and played it and played it (even the spoken word parts). And when Little Plastic Castle came out, I bought it and played it and played it and played it -- along with the other albums I'd bought along the way. I was going to listen to Ani forever and ever and ever.
In college, though, we lost touch a bit. Oh sure, I'd put her on a mix every once in a while, but I didn't hear her every day, and I was certainly skipping the spoken word tracks.
Recently, though, we got reacquainted when I listened to Nick Hornby's Songbook. "You Had Time" might be my "Both Hands" of this decade.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Things really were wrong in the '70s
Rabbit is Rich
John Updike
1981
Harry Angstrom's son is almost as old as Harry was in the first Rabbit book. And that means lots of conflict.
It reminds me of this play a student and teacher wrote for my high school's one-act play festival. It was called Oelvis Oedipus. Young Elvis kills old Elvis, etc. (This followed the success of the previous year's Kung Fu Hamlet, which really was much better.)
In this case, young Elvis does not kill old Elvis, but he'd probably like to. Harry's been far from a perfect father -- maybe he hasn't even been a good father -- but it's hard to understand what Nelson's real beef is.
The daquiris are largely absent in the third book. Harry drinks lots of beer, and gin and tonics, and some brandy, wine and champagne (at a wedding). They get a mention, though, when the Angstroms go to the Caribbean with two other couples. Mostly, though, even there, they all drink pina coladas.
Speaking of the Caribbean, the couples all go down there and then decide to get in a little key-party-style action. Because, you know, it's vacation and it's the '70s, so why wouldn't I sleep with my friend's wife?
John Updike
1981
Harry Angstrom's son is almost as old as Harry was in the first Rabbit book. And that means lots of conflict.
It reminds me of this play a student and teacher wrote for my high school's one-act play festival. It was called Oelvis Oedipus. Young Elvis kills old Elvis, etc. (This followed the success of the previous year's Kung Fu Hamlet, which really was much better.)
In this case, young Elvis does not kill old Elvis, but he'd probably like to. Harry's been far from a perfect father -- maybe he hasn't even been a good father -- but it's hard to understand what Nelson's real beef is.
The daquiris are largely absent in the third book. Harry drinks lots of beer, and gin and tonics, and some brandy, wine and champagne (at a wedding). They get a mention, though, when the Angstroms go to the Caribbean with two other couples. Mostly, though, even there, they all drink pina coladas.
Speaking of the Caribbean, the couples all go down there and then decide to get in a little key-party-style action. Because, you know, it's vacation and it's the '70s, so why wouldn't I sleep with my friend's wife?
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Pink drinks
Rabbit Redux
John Updike
1971
Ten years have passed since Rabbit, Run, and Rabbit drinks more. After work he an his dad usually get drinks. Rabbit always orders a daquiri, then another.
Later in the book, a co-worker he's met at a bar (a "negro" bar, my friends -- this is the end of the '60s) tells him it's a lady drink and has him order a whiskey sour. He is also observed drinking beer as the daquiries seem to taper off.
If a man wants to have a drink with some fruit in it, then a man should have a drink with some fruit in it. But two daquiries a day at the same bar almost every day? This is the kind of man Harry Angstrom is.
At the beginning of Rabbit, Run, he doesn't drink at all. He starts with the daquiries at dinner one night, ordering what the women at the table order. Life happens to him. He moves along till he's jolted out of routine.
John Updike
1971
Ten years have passed since Rabbit, Run, and Rabbit drinks more. After work he an his dad usually get drinks. Rabbit always orders a daquiri, then another.
Later in the book, a co-worker he's met at a bar (a "negro" bar, my friends -- this is the end of the '60s) tells him it's a lady drink and has him order a whiskey sour. He is also observed drinking beer as the daquiries seem to taper off.
If a man wants to have a drink with some fruit in it, then a man should have a drink with some fruit in it. But two daquiries a day at the same bar almost every day? This is the kind of man Harry Angstrom is.
At the beginning of Rabbit, Run, he doesn't drink at all. He starts with the daquiries at dinner one night, ordering what the women at the table order. Life happens to him. He moves along till he's jolted out of routine.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Rabbit, take one
Rabbit, Run
John Updike
1960
Because of his disappointing stories published in the past few years in magazines, I'd forgotten that John Updike was so good. (If I knew I could get thousands of dollars for a story, I'd probably publish lots of stuff not up to my usual John Updike standards, too.)
Rabbit, Run is maybe the original quarter-life crisis story -- back when you weren't having a quarter-life crisis but were instead simply maintaining a sense of entitlement.
Rabbit is 26, and he married "late" at 23. His 26 seems somehow both so much older and so much younger than my forthcoming 26. He's married. He has a kid and one on the way. But he lives in his hometown and hasn't gotten a start on a career, and there is no college buffer between him and high school. He goes from high school basketball star to family man (sort of) with what seems like nothing in between.
Harry Angstrom is a man haltingly starting on his way in life, and it's hard not see a little something of my own uncertainties in this mid-20th-century adult.
John Updike
1960
Because of his disappointing stories published in the past few years in magazines, I'd forgotten that John Updike was so good. (If I knew I could get thousands of dollars for a story, I'd probably publish lots of stuff not up to my usual John Updike standards, too.)
Rabbit, Run is maybe the original quarter-life crisis story -- back when you weren't having a quarter-life crisis but were instead simply maintaining a sense of entitlement.
Rabbit is 26, and he married "late" at 23. His 26 seems somehow both so much older and so much younger than my forthcoming 26. He's married. He has a kid and one on the way. But he lives in his hometown and hasn't gotten a start on a career, and there is no college buffer between him and high school. He goes from high school basketball star to family man (sort of) with what seems like nothing in between.
Harry Angstrom is a man haltingly starting on his way in life, and it's hard not see a little something of my own uncertainties in this mid-20th-century adult.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
It seemed like a good idea at the time
It's finally time in my reading career to tackle John Updike's Rabbit books.
Not counting the first 175 pages of Rabbit, Run, my Updike reading comprises In the Beauty of the Lilies (a poor man's version of the Rabbit books), some short stories found in various anthologies and some boring short stories published in The New Yorker and Atlantic.
But, collected under one title, these four novels might be the great American novel. I must wait no longer!
Collected under one title, these for novels are also heavy.
Robert Angstrom, as published by Everyman's Library in 1995, is 1,516 pages. But it just seemed simpler to check out one book instead of four -- especially because the four books weren't all on the shelf individually and I wasn't sure which order to go in anyway. (Checking the copyright would have been so hard.)
Simpler maybe, but it is making reading physically taxing.
So here I am, straining the limits of my bag and my shoulder, all in the name of good fiction.
Not counting the first 175 pages of Rabbit, Run, my Updike reading comprises In the Beauty of the Lilies (a poor man's version of the Rabbit books), some short stories found in various anthologies and some boring short stories published in The New Yorker and Atlantic.
But, collected under one title, these four novels might be the great American novel. I must wait no longer!
Collected under one title, these for novels are also heavy.
Robert Angstrom, as published by Everyman's Library in 1995, is 1,516 pages. But it just seemed simpler to check out one book instead of four -- especially because the four books weren't all on the shelf individually and I wasn't sure which order to go in anyway. (Checking the copyright would have been so hard.)
Simpler maybe, but it is making reading physically taxing.
So here I am, straining the limits of my bag and my shoulder, all in the name of good fiction.
... And it was all a dream
The Club Dumas
Arturo Pervez-Reverte
1993
I think this is Arturo Pervez-Reverte's best-known book (at least it was the first one I'd heard of), but it gets bogged down in all the theory and history of Alexander Dumas and The Three Musketeers. Pervez-Reverte seems almost giddy on those subjects.
It reminded me a bit of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, with it's main character thrown into an alternate world, though not so literally in the case of The Club Dumas.
I spent 300-plus pages getting sucked in (despite my annoyances), only to be disappointed at the end. The reveal was a cop-out.
The Club Dumas and Pervez-Reverte's later Queen of the South have a lot in common: They're both thrillers without being dumb about it, and they both have a main character who's essentially going it alone. But Queen of the South was ultimately more rewarding.
Arturo Pervez-Reverte
1993
I think this is Arturo Pervez-Reverte's best-known book (at least it was the first one I'd heard of), but it gets bogged down in all the theory and history of Alexander Dumas and The Three Musketeers. Pervez-Reverte seems almost giddy on those subjects.
It reminded me a bit of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, with it's main character thrown into an alternate world, though not so literally in the case of The Club Dumas.
I spent 300-plus pages getting sucked in (despite my annoyances), only to be disappointed at the end. The reveal was a cop-out.
The Club Dumas and Pervez-Reverte's later Queen of the South have a lot in common: They're both thrillers without being dumb about it, and they both have a main character who's essentially going it alone. But Queen of the South was ultimately more rewarding.
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