Books Coming in, and Books Going Out

When I first heard of Someone Comes to Town Someone Leaves Town by Cory Doctorow there were two 'tag lines' that were associated with the book: goofy (in the best of ways) and 'kinda like Tom Robbins.'  I didn't finish the book so this isn't a review but after putting it down around page sixty it was certainly as bizarre as anything Robbins has committed to paper.  (I used to read a lot of Robbins haven't done so in a while.)  Doctorow's book is crazy: a man with no definitive first name who's father is a mountain and mother a washing machine.  Stranger than this is that the plot isn't some hook merely to get you interested.  Language and presentation and all those indefinable things that make up 'style' were a bit lacking for me and not only in comparison to Robbins. 

The novel is goofy, but that didn't bother me.  It felt a bit dated being so contemporary in 2005, perhaps it hasn't aged well especially with the 'free internet for all of Toronto' tech aspect of the book.  Primarily I think what turned me off is that the story (up until the point where I put the book down) is told through dialogue and I've never really liked chatty books.  To me, good dialogue feels well crafted--like Doctorow's--which is generally speaking the opposite of real human dialogue.  And I'm a quiet person anyway... 

The City and ʎʇıɔ ǝɥʇ by China Mieville was anything but a mess, but I don't like crime novels added to which I felt cold and alone reading it if that makes any sense.

Funny thing is, I think I like both these authors solely based on a novel by each that I haven't completed.  Concerning Doctorow I'd like to read his newest work: hot off the press and Mieville seems to have style and craft aplenty; only I need to find a story that appeals more to my taste.  They are both still on 'The List,' but these particular books are out the door.
 
I really wanted to finish both of these books and toyed with the idea of doing so, but instead of giving myself a long, slow reading month I stuck to my M.O.: 'you've got fifty pages to make me read your book.'  A number I think rather generous.

Belated birthday gifts may be the greatest thing ever.  They are almost as grand as true unprompted gift-giving as the recipient isn't expecting the gift.  Since I've 'finished' half of my expected reading for the month in two days I'll add Maria's present The Prestige by Christopher Priest to the pile for September.  I'm predisposed to liking this book.

As for a book that I've picked up this month and stuck with The Glass Room by Simon Mawer is really good.  Can't see myself putting this one down.  My sister chides me for reading what she deems 'high and mighty stuffy books.'  To that I say, I'll reading anything from fantasy, science fiction to high and might and stuffy as long as it's strong enough to hold my interest through fifty pages. 

It happened again...

Yet another Did Not Finish.  I checked last year, and it seems I'm good for two DNF's a year and they always come back to back, so the good thing about this is that I'm telling myself I'm done for the year. 

Should I have any regular readers, you know that I don't feel obligated once started to finish a book, but it always kinda hurts--or perhaps, catches me off guard--is a better phrase, when it happens.  This years double hitter of, "I can't get through this hot mess," comes as a major surprise, even to me.  I've mentioned about the shock of Perez-Reverte's The Nautical Chart, but not getting more than a hundred pages through André Aciman's Eight White Nights, was a surprise that really took my breath away.  Granted, he had no where to go but down.
 
I went into this book with Call Me by Your Name on my mind which is easily one of my favorite books ever, that said I read Eight White Nights--or at least one-hundred pages of it--and judged it on it's own merits.  Is it possible that one of your all-time favorite writers can also turn your stomach? 

Love stories that happen in New York City make me sick.  Anyone who doesn't live there and has ever read a love story set there may not agree, but probably knows where I'm coming from.  They are elitist, and esoteric and at times it feels like they are purposefully so; to be read and enjoyed only by New Yorkers.  That aside, some very wealthy members of the Jewish community are throwing a Christmas party in the Upper West Side.  (Even more elitism, yeah!).  At this party we meet the most absurd and unbelievable character since ever: Clara.  Authors spend a lot of time on dialogue; making it sound authentic and feel right in our ears, even writing out all the mistakes and bad grammar that we use when we speak in an effort to come across as real to the reader.  Aciman probably worked harder than anyone else to ensure that trying to figure out what the hell these people are talking about was a convoluted exercise in painful futility, self-serving philosophy, and altogether overwrought-no-yield prose.  They speak stiffly.  It's jarring, but you get into it rather quickly, but no one would ever seek these people out for conversation, and the poor guy who some how falls for Clara (can't remember his name) takes us on the journey of just how difficult it is to talk to this woman.  It's not endearing.

Should you ever meet anyone who spoke like these people in real life, you would distance yourself, speak aloud 'Why are trying so hard, speak normally' or punch them in the face and walk off in confusion as to why they made you do such a thing.  I have friends and family in New York City, dare I say I even know Jews in the Upper West Side, but I don't know anyone who would tolerate talking to anyone at this party.  Can't you tell I really wanted to finish this book?  Stuff like this makes up my best commentaries. 

The DNF's suck but they do help in clearing out space on my bookshelves and earn me points at the book store.  I'm currently finishing the Warriors anthology I've been working on; it hit a really good stride with four or five nice pieces in a row.  After that I'll take Maria's suggestion and pick up Shadow of the Wind, which is probably what I should have done instead of Eight White Nights. 

I Couldn't do it...

Here's a thing I never thought I'd say: I couldn't finish a book by Arturo Pérez-Reverte.  The Nautical Chart should have been cool.  The premise is great; the characters are strong and, in my case, I'm heavily endeared to the author.  (Pretty sure I've covered him way more than anyone else on my blog.)  It was the pace that was it's undoing.

I give every book I read fifty pages.  I gave this three times that amount, because of my past good experience with Pérez-Reverte.  I can say definitively I like his historical fiction more than his contemporary crime thrillers though I enjoyed The Flanders Panel a lot.

The Great 2012 Reading Rut continues...  

Yet another DNF

This is not a good trend... this time it's Margaret Atwood's short story collection The Dancing Girls.   I read six of the stories: a little more than half the book.  The writing is perfect, some of the imagery is amazing and her ability to pick a catchy title is way strong.  The prose itself, the characters, nor the plot were interesting enough for me to keep reading.  I'm really surprised I stuck with it as long as I did.

I'll be adding this to the pile to go back to the used bookstore along with another short story collection I have of hers.  I'm a bit concerned as I have a few massive novels of Atwood's on my self, but then again, people I trust-ish have raved about the novels.  I've heard no mention of her short stories.

Sad Story of the DNF

I've been doing so well this year that it was bound to happen.  Previously in 2011, I've struggled with two books both of which I managed to get through, but finally I'm agreeing to throw in the towel.  I've gotten really good at knowing my taste and even broadening my reading interest but I couldn't find any reason to stay with The Firebrand by Marion Zimmer Bradley.


There was a powerful feminist element that had the subtlety of a freight train.  This did not bother me.  The story is of the fall of Troy primarily through the eyes of Kassandra.  As I crested the two-hundred page mark in this six-hundred page monster I began to feel she was trying to make up for many male writers complete disregard for women as men in The Firebrand are not only completely useless but also anything but desirable.  The delivery of this message is pretty heavy-handed to the point that I thought she was being as bigoted as the male writers that may have driven her to write the story as she did in the first place.


In the beginning of the book Kassandra's older sister Polyxena, was subject to many eye rolling comments because she liked 'pretty things' and indulged in gossip about city boys who sought her affections.  I felt like Bradley was making fun of my sister.  I like my sister.  I made up my mind to put the book down, when Andromache, Hector's promised bride, was first introduced.  She is summarily chided and chastised for wanting to be married, to have a husband.  Yet her character is so confused (read: Bradley didn't know what she wanted to do with her) that I couldn't even sympathize with her.  She has lived her life in a city ruled by a Queen where, not surprisingly men are completely useless, a nuisance, a pest at best.  The following is a bit from a conversation with Kassandra:    

     "What should she do with a husband?  Two or three times since my father died, she has taken a consort for a season and sent him away when she was tired of him.  That is what is right for a Queen to do if she has desire for a man--at least in our city."

     "And yet you are willing to marry my brother and be subject to him as our women are subject to their men?" 

     "I think I shall enjoy it," Andromache said with a giggle..." Page 128

So she can stand up for how things are done in her city and appreciate her mothers place of power, defend her entire culture and yet longs to give it up for what she sees as possibly being fun... Yeah, some real strong principles there...  Perhaps she is ironed out and made to make sense further in but I'll never know.  

All this harsh and bitter treatment towards men makes me want to write a book where men have a stronger place of power, and women are only after thoughts.  A book where negative attributes of women will be put in strong relief when contrast with the earthshaking power of a character like Conan.  Oh wait a minute... That's right...

I can't say any thing definitive as I didn't finish the book, but if there is a problem with a women's place in literature (which I confess ignorance as to whether or not there is) I certainly do not think Bradley is any part of a solution.  Ultimately, none of the issues stated were the reason I put this book down.  I love the story of the fall of Troy; it's heroes and heroines, but Bradley's storytelling couldn't hold my interest.  I'd make a recommendation, but the author is male and by this point I'd just feel dirty doing so.  

The Year's First Defeat

I did not finish Slaughter House Five by Kurt Vonnegut.

I read fifty pages as I customarily do with a new book to try to get a feel for things; nothing.  I read another fifty pages due to reputation and all the praise I've heard.  It wasn't for me.  Furthermore this isn't one I plan on re-visiting.  I'll be trading it in tomorrow morning.

It's easy to read and I could have powered through, but there was nothing of remote interest happening for me.  That book nearly killed me, "So it goes."

It had to happen sometime.