I never ended up reading To The Lighthouse because I came into possession of books by a trio of hilarious women and decided to proceed to knock off two of them. Then I got halted massively by Jonathan Safran Foer. Not sure how to speak of that guy's writing though I described it as delightfully insufferable to a friend. The man is imaginative and insightful, no doubt, but there's also something to be said for writing characters I can actually care about and I think that may be where it dips downhill.
Saying that, Eating Animals, though still unfinished, has really gotten me thinking about a lot. It makes some very, very good points about the real reasons we eat what we eat and delving into the cultural norms that many often never bother thinking about it, and it's certainly had me looking further into factory farming and their impacts. No, I'm not about to go vegan even though I already trawl the menus, but I am interested in bettering my understanding of more humane and more environmentally sound methods of farming and agriculture.
On the subject of fiction, however, after finally rolling over the mountain that was Everything Is Illuminated and then deciding to halt Eating Animals altogether, I went on fishing through my piles and have happily gone through the below.
Now Reading:
Some of my recently acquired and as yet unread titles:
From Gleebooks at the Sydney Writers' Festival 2016:
From POWELL'S BOOKS in Portland (squee!):
I've read some of the poems, actually. LOVE this man. His poems represent him to a tee.
From Graphic 2016 (and for free from Kinokuniya!):
Finished:
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I had no clue at all of Mindy Kaling's lifelong relationship with comedy and my appreciation of what she does went sky high upon reading this book. And she is funny. I've admittedly found some of her past skits and bits less than fun or amusing (though of course, there was The Office so, colour me dolt) so I was initially surprised by the degree to which The Mindy Project had me rolling in its pointed and brisk hilarity. In book form, however, her concentrated mix of humour, honesty and insanity made for light but completely relatable reading. The whole time, I could hear Kelly Kapoor/Dr Lahiri's voices telling me each story and relaying every anecdote and in the end, I'd thoroughly enjoyed getting to know this woman who shares just as many insecurities as the rest of us non-famous chicks do and has chosen, again and again, to run with it all. That courage was one of the many common threads between her, Tina and Amy's books, where each time, I got to know these genuinely amazing women on a slightly more intimate level and learn that the difference between us all was a lot of hard work and circumstance and that is a difference that separates, divides and makes unique the lives of pretty much everyone.
Tina is fantastic. I loved this. I loved so much of it. Ok, so another common thread between the three were the reminders that we've all been taught since childhood while being further taught the exact opposite on almost every other level - be you. Above all things. You are more than your face and your shape, you are more than your sex and you can and should be you, with all your neuroticisms, in all you do. You are worthy of respect and no one else in the world's words, ideas or opinions change any part of that because as Tina asks, "Who cares?" I could not agree more. Listen, learn, grow but don't let personal change be coerced by pointless negativity. Honestly, a wonderfully written book and, like Mindy, I loved getting to know the woman behind the humour just that little bit better.
Interesting and intricate though it was, this book slowed me down significantly. Maybe it was the plodding introduction of the narrator and his guide's clumsy English and the ever-winding myth and history of Trachimbrod, but I just felt like my ability to read came to a screeching halt. The historical background of the story is genuinely interesting and much like when I read Middlesex and learned about the Great Fire of Smyrna and the 1967 Detroit Riot, I was unaware of Trochenbrod's existence and its ultimate demise at the hands of the Nazis, having been a Jewish shtetl (a small town with a significant Jewish population). I was also not yet familiar with the notion of Magical Realism until I read this (a literary introduction not dissimilar to my discovery of Speculative Fiction upon reading The Handmaid's Tale) and this may have been a part of the hindrance because I've not a lot of taste for fantasy as it is (though Gaiman is fast changing this). I've never finished a single Tolkien, not even The Hobbit, and J.K. Rowling has provided the rest of what I've swallowed in terms of fantasy, that is, if we don't include the more fantastical elements in King's horror stories. Admittedly, I'm now finding myself choking on literary definition so I'll stop there, but the style did not appeal to me and the story was a slog. It might do to give it a re-read, but I have a feeling that what I'm dealing with here is a simple lack of chemistry between writer and reader. I wouldn't not recommend it, not at all, it just wasn't for me. I have been distinctly imprinted with the fact that Jonathan Safran Foer is a very intelligent man, but his storytelling felt rather like lead.
This was a really interesting read for me because by the time I read it, I had attended two talks by Anna Westbrook over the last two Writers' Festivals in Sydney. That she was from UNSW furthered my curiosity about her style and what reading her would be like and having attended a talk in which she specifically spoke about her approach to this very book, I had some idea of what to expect. Something I should mention here, is that Australian writers sound incredibly different to other writers and as someone who has still read shamefully little Australian Literature, I think I tend to find myself needing to adjust, despite the fact that a lot of the dialogue and the culture as written is actually familiar to me. It's simply a voice of which I've read comparatively little. So reading this, I found some of that jarring. I also found the tone and the description wasn't really to my liking. It reminded me of a book I read last year, by Hannah Kent - Burial Rites - which I understand was well-acclaimed, but that I distinctly did not enjoy. I found her language needlessly melodramatic and oftentimes overbearing... and that same criticism applies here to some extent. Saying that, I actually quite liked the story and felt for Nancy, Frances, Templeton and their families. I was still able be drawn into their lives and my pangs with the writing style only meant that I was pulled out of the story from time to time. It's also a piece of historical fiction which means I did think it an intriguing glimpse into Sydney's past. Though I only discovered this afterwards, a few real historical figures made appearances and the story itself was borne of an actual rape and murder of a young girl that took place in Newtown at the time - all information I knew nothing of about the city in which I live. Style aside, anything that introduces me to more history is something I'll appreciate.
Amy Poehler is amazing. I love her and I loved this book. Read it. Read it. Read it because nothing I say will be able to convey just how strongly she spoke in this book. Aside from being funny, honest, clever and so, so brilliantly insane, she clearly wants people to realise themselves. To go out and take on all the scary shit they want to do and try. She, like Tina and Mindy (and, I'm going to guess, every other comedian who has written an autobiography or, well, done stand up) very openly addresses her fears and insecurities and the constant battles you have with yourself as a person, and in her case, as a writer and an entertainer. Learning to stop hiding from those 'demons', and simply put them right back in their place when they try to corner her, prod her, remind her she's nothing, is a struggle everyone can understand and hopefully learn from. Overall, I highly recommend.
As I approached the end of Yes, Please, I fell quite ill for a week and ended up revisiting my childhood in book form, devouring 19 books in 3 days. Ah, the luxury temporarily incapacitating illness affords. The list is below as it seems both brutal for me to look up every single cover and then to subject all that to anyone who reads this.
2 x You Be the Jury books
1 x You Be the Detective book
SVH (yes, by gum, that does stand for Sweet Valley High) In Love Again
SVH Double Love
2 x 20 Mini Mystery books (one spooky, one not so spooky)
2 x Encyclopaedia Brown books
The Lifeguard (ah, the Point book phase of my pre-teen years!)
The Babysitter
Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys - Hits and Misses
Nancy Drew - Diamond Deceit
1 x The Usborne Books of Whodunnits
1 x Usborne Puzzle Adventure set - 3 stories
1 x Sleepover Friends
2 x Usborne Spinechillers - House of Shadows and Ghost Train to Nowhere
as well as finishing Yes Please, of course.
Suzanne Leal was another author I had the privilege of seeing speak at the Writers' Festival on a panel alongside Emily Maguire about Secrets and Survival. As a tale of suspense, it works very well and as that foreigner of sorts to Aussie stories, I found this one well written and full of characters that I could care about (or hate, as it were. Either way, there was an emotional connection or response). Terry, the subject of all the scrutiny, the man with a secret, was someone who I could not help but feel for the whole time. All I could see was this kind, caring, dedicated educator and carer being dragged through the dirt. I'm unsure if one was meant to feel more ambiguity towards his innocence, but from the start, I felt for him and his friends and the kids. I also enjoyed getting to know the rest of the townsfolk as Leal introduced them all chapter by chapter so that, alongside finding myself so invested in the story as a whole, well, can't complain about that. Furthermore, the importance of an education that really takes into account the real characters and abilities of the pupils is something I strongly believe in and Terry seemed to represent that integrity, only making me like him more.
There was quite the gap between books as I went through all the craziness at work, while simultaneously preparing for my trip. As I was spending most of my train rides falling asleep from sheer exhaustion, reading time largely vanished. In Portland, I finally made it to the unbelievably amazing Powell's Bookstore and after hours of browsing and getting lost among the many floors and shelves and hyperventilating over finding signed, first editions of books by T.S. Eliot and (breathe, breathe...) William Faulkner, I ended up purchasing three books. one of which was the above.
Hands down, this is one of the funniest and most entertaining books I've read in a long, long time. Yes, even including the trio of Comedy Queens above. Jesse Andrews did an amazing job of taking this teenage guy and his love of film and his carefully constructed social world and making me laugh out loud or have to smother my laughter in public as I went on the journey with him through a bizarre and often confusing new friendship. Me, Earl and the Dying Girl is a YA novel that I would want every teen to read (and pretty much anyone else, really) because it is so fucking frank and so, so funny all the while. Greg's inner workings are entertaining as hell and man, I only wish I could have been so humorously, keenly aware of myself as a teenager. Heart by the bucketloads, laughs aplenty - pure gold and my favourite read of the year so far.
Emily Maguire is a fantastic literary panellist. She has great energy and humour and, from the talks I attended, a real handle on human behaviour. What was great was getting such a sense of all of this as I read her work. This was a great book - fundamentally human all the way through and as wrenching as you could imagine a story about the fallout from a murder would be. I loved Chris' character's wit and grit and stony realism in an un-ideal world. I admit I had less empathy for May's character, though that probably had a lot more to do with my total disdain for two very specific things - cheaters in relationships and completely boundary-less and disrespectful journalists - which she seemed to embody from the beginning (though admittedly, technically not the cheater, still, why do that to another person?). Though I did get to know her better over the course of the story and get a better sense of the fact that she was largely trying to survive and ultimately get to the truth and my response to all that is a testament to Maguire's writing. She did well to create an atmosphere of constant mystery and suspense amidst small town folk and small town gossip and her characters were real, funny, irreverent and oftentimes surprising. A thoroughly enjoyable book.
A re-read and an interesting one at that, because this was sort of my writing bible in the early 00's and it is indeed also a beautiful and funny memoir, though oddly enough, the tone sat differently with me this time around. It could be that certain parts of the book age a little poorly, only because it was completed at the turn of the millennium (something poignantly demonstrated by the short story featured at the end, a tale which these days, may be met with a little bit more trepidation as partially evidenced by my own personal reaction to it after all these years), not to mention how much has changed in terms of the world pretty much transferring itself online, leaving his advice about letters and books quite dated. I still enjoyed it and was again reminded of what I love about his writing and his outlook on the world and the craft, but yes, there was a tonal difference from what I remember. A long while back, when Television Without Pity still existed pre-Bravo takeover, I stumbled quite by accident upon a discussion between Sars and Wing Chun about Stephen King and how he 'jumped the shark' by writing On Writing. I remember thinking their criticism was harsh at the time, equating him to your somewhat annoyingly 'wise' old uncle who wants to sit you down and tell you some tales, ayup. Upon re-read, however, many years later, I see some of what they're talking about. Though he often acknowledges that he only really knows what he knows and that's nothing, the way he then goes on to advise on the tools in the writer's toolbox seems a little incongruously pompous. I wonder now if I'm being too harsh, but it was a surprise for me to feel that way because I adore this book. It always pays to revisit though. Maybe I'll feel differently again when I'm closer to his age and I give it another go.
I finished this in less than two days, that's how swiftly and completely engrossed in the story I was. For a story seen through the eyes of the one character, and one who is (thankfully) not too prone to over narrating and overwrought description and is merely thinking and remembering and attempting to understand it all, Ishiguro did an amazing job of plunging me into the Hailsham world. Kathy recalls her childhood and adolescence and her burgeoning adulthood, complex though it all was, in simple, utterly relatable bits and pieces. Looking back is always an exercise in difficulty. Are you recalling things correctly? Are you even able to do that, as a biased human being? Then looking over the moments and events recalled, trying to cut through the thorny maze of confusion as you piece it all together and try to understand how the course of life and history could be mapped out and filled by those puzzle pieces of memory... and this doesn't even begin to mention the horrifying world in which this is all happening. I was fairly spoiled for this book, having watched bits of the movie's end and subsequently looking it up on Wikipedia and getting the basic plot down. Despite that, despite having a fair idea of what was going to happen, I was still completely within the story. Ishiguro is an amazing writer and this book had me wanting to ask humanity - why do you do these things? Oh, dehumanisation. The book presented it in a frighteningly pure form and knocked me dead with it, so much so that I now have a new favourite book and author.
Aaand finally done for this batch! Insanely overdue, but at least it's finally done. I've missed reviewing so it actually feels pretty great to get this up and to also 'colour my (blog) with the chaos of (literature)'. Now, Gaiman, sir, I continue my journey to The Ocean at the End of the Lane.
Cue GIF!
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| An accurate depiction of the state of my room. |
