The Month in review and of Things to Come

I'm posting a few days earlier as I'm anticipating taking a temporary leave of absence from my senses this long holiday weekend.

Not the most productive month, I'll admit; nor am I happy about it. I've already complained enough about The Count of Monte Cristo cramping my style, and now that I've learned how to handle it, I'm hoping for a better June: a return to regularity with reviews, and a new monthly feature (which will be awesome and perhaps unprecedented) in place of the rum reviews.

I wrote the first draft of my statement of purpose in hopes for Ph.D admissions. The deadlines aren't even in sight but I like to be ahead. It's way too long but I find it easier to edit when you have something on the page.

My near insolvency is yet again hindering my new book acquisitions. I used credit card rewards points to pick up Daniel Abraham's Leviathan Wept, because he is awesome. (Should you be unaware of his awesomeness read this.) I quite literary can't hardly wait for that to get here. Also I picked up The Dragon Book as edited by Jack Dann and Gardner Dozois. I read Wizards by the same editors last year and greatly enjoyed it and have similar high hopes for this original collection. Both of these books can be had for great prices right now. Wizards for five bucks at the Barnes and Noble bargain bin and The Dragon Book for the same price at Books-a-Million. If you like to read--even if you don't--I highly recommend both, one on the strength of the other. Speaking of dragons…

The homogenous landscape of speculative fiction book blogging seems to have collectively overlooked Wings of Fire from Nightshade Books in March. (Or perhaps I'm being premature? Due to that homogenous landscape I don't read many fantasy book blogs. Or perhaps the collection is completely unremarkable, which I doubt.) Rest assured, I'll be picking that up shortly. Briefly scrolling through Nightshade's catalogue is mind-blowing in how much awesome stuff the publish. (I must have those Kage Baker short story collections.) I could easily read exclusively from Nightshade and Taychon for a three to five years and be happy.

What's in store for June? Other than the previously mentioned new monthly feature, which I hope to kick off with Subterranean Press (Who needs the Six Sisters!?!) June doesn't hold anything new that I can foresee. I'll choke down three hundred more pages of The Count because I'm too stubborn to put it down, The Dispossessed by Ursalua le Guin, and the previously mentioned Abraham collection are up for reading. Also I hope to do one of my, "Not a commentaries" for Greg Keyes The Kingdom of Thorn and Bone.

As boring and inactive as May has been, I'm planning on creating work for myself in June.

This Book is Killing Me.

It's fun. I'm enjoying it; it is massive. At the beginning of the month I said I'd finish The Count of Monte Cristo... well that ain't happening. The Oxford press trade paper back edition comes in at 1082 pages and while I have nothing against substantial length, I don't feel like I'm making any progress reading this behemoth. Added to which, I'm not certain that this book is a novel.

It moves at a fast pace, has perhaps the most sympathetic hero ever, and plot with infinite layers; it only doesn't seem to end. I feel this book, as much as I'm enjoying it, has the power to kill my interest in reading if I were told to finish it before reading anything else.

Given its history as a serialized publication I think the abridgment given to most high-schoolers makes great sense. If I were reading a fifty page chunk in a magazine once every month, it would be a breeze and my anticipation would probably be really high. Given the full the work at once changes things a bit.

In short, I don't feel bad reading this in three-hundred page chunks. There is a certain something that stymies my interest that I haven't encountered in similarly huge books from this time period. However, I'm not gonna get into the writing as to not break my, 'don't talk about dead authors of the classics' rule.

I've recently finished The Briar King by Greg Keyes and started The King's Gold by Arturo Pérez-Reverte. They have proven a nice escape from the protracted monotony of The Count. I'm amending my reading regimen to 'August,' concerning completion of The Count. The break in reading The Count will mark a return to the enjoyment of picking up a book and finishing it in a reasonable amount of time.

No new acquisitions

So I went back to Atlanta Vintage Books yesterday hoping to trade in the last pile of craptastic books in my collection; it's a meager stack of eight. It's hard to describe what seventy-thousand books in one place that isn't a library look like. Apparently they had reached something close to maxium capacity and were not purchasing books at the present (or at least not my books).

I was disheartened for a moment and put my stack back in the car. Then I went back inside to browse. I skimmed the Easton Press bookcase looking for gems that arrived since my first visit or ones I had previously missed. I resisted the Proust and Flaubert and kept looking elsewhere until toward the back of the building I came across a stack of books about three feet tall that comprised of Easton Press, Heritage Edition, and Franklin Library books.

Yeah, there was an offering of books--on the floor--from the three best quality book manufactures in the world; on the floor. Once I was able to put that into context it was easy to understand why they didn't have need for my stash. Retail space in that part of town is too high for what I was offering. Even the literal space on the floor.

The Month in review and of Things to Come

Productivity; that's the word of the month, and a good word at that. I've learned so much new on guitar my calluses have blisters, I've read more than any other single month out-put, I've taken pen to paper (or fingers to keys, if you will) and gotten more writing done than usual, and I've been beating down doors with such vigor that I'm daring to be optimistic about find a new job.

I didn't buy a single book this month which is a first for me in a long time. My reading out-put test from last month yielded odd, yet expected results: I do in fact read more when I tell myself all I'm going to read in a month as opposed to picking up a book here and there. I was most surprised that I didn't feel any pressure to get through what I had set aside for the month. My to-be-read stack has diminished by six.

Claudius the God by Robert Graves was as good as it's predecessor but without Livia a good deal of the conflict didn't feel as intense. It's still one of the finest historical fiction and first person narratives I've come across. I surprised myself by picking up and putting down The Graveyard Book in all of two days. The powerful adventure and exploration themes are as good as Neil Gaiman can be and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I had a little bit to say about Quin's Shanghai Circus, Ysabel, and The Sun Over Breda. I even added that nifty list in the right hand column so I don't have to point out in my monthly wrap ups what books I've commented on. Isn't that nifty? See how hard I work for my readers? Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev, is so good that I'm tempted to rescind my, 'I don't talk about dead authors of the classics' policy. Perhaps I'll start another blog and do precisely that as this is a book I not only want to share, but seems to demand discussion.

In May I'm gonna tackle The Count of Monte Cristo and in doing so polish off my list of books that were Christmas gifts. I never read it in high school. ( I don't think I had to read anything in high school. ) I've gotten a bit of a head start and it seems to read quickly, however it's still a thousand plus pages. I'm being modest in my reading estimation; if I can finish The Count, The Dispossessed by Ursula Le Guin, and The King's Gold by Arturo Pérez-Reverte I'll feel good about things.

I'm feeling very good about a few other projects that I can't yet mention, but I hope come to full fruition in places other than my blog.

To end things on a bit of a downer, May maybe the last month of my rum reviews. I was able to do them this long as I was sitting on about ten of those reviews before I put the first one up. I may reload and try again in the future but the truth is, I'm very close to exhausting the local variety of rums available. There are a few I'm intentionally staying away from and some others, I plain old can't afford. Nonetheless, I feel good about my contribution to the rum drinking community. I've done my part, and as that segment passes it may give rise to something new.

To tie together Guy Gavriel Kay and rum and I read of his introduction to spiking ginger beer with rum. I'd always used vodka, which only dilutes the ginger beer. He's an intelligent guy and I can see how rum would actually add some character to a drink already over flowing with personality. Plus, it's summer--ginger beer season--so why not?

Atlanta Vintage Books

With used book stores I find it best to go inside without an agenda. If there is something specific you want, sure look for it but don't be surprised with what end up purchasing.

This is a store I had to tear myself away. A prior dinner engagement on the other side of town hastened me away and probably saved me a good bit of money as well. I need to dedicate a Saturday morning to going here in an effort to take it all in. I would also need a second job to shop here with regularity. (Actually, I need a full-time job, right now...)

I've already failed in my effort to not buy any books in the month of March so I didn't feel bad about the two I picked up today. The Dispossessed by Ursula K. LeGuin and Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev as translated by Constance Garret. (I usually limit my Russian translations to Richard Peaver and Larissa Volokhonsky but I seem to recall an interview where they greatly endorsed Garrent's work and haven't seen the need to do their own translation.) I've been wanting to read LeGuin for a long time, and I have been without any nineteenth century Russian literature longer than I would like.

Now to make you jealous. These are Easton Press Editions I purchased. In mint condition as defined by book antiquarians. I had never seen, or heard of these wonders of print until today, and I'm still blown away. The amazingly thick and textured paper, binding, and type surpass even what I had previously thought to be the pentacle of modern printing, the Everyman's Library. The ornate leather binding, and gold gilt edges combined to make you think of a brand new, really old book.

If you have the cash, and really like the book you are considering, they are well worth the price. If you find them as I did--in a used, second hand store-- in mint condition for twenty bucks a piece, you have to buy them. I'm here to tell ya, you may find no nicer book ever assembled than the Easton Press Editions.

These purchases bring to mind and interesting quandary and one I'd never thought to entertain before. Being these books are collectors editions, and perfect, should I got to the library and check out copies I want to read? I know myself too well. I'll read these, and enjoy them for the literature they are and the appreciate the art of the physical book, themselves. The illustrations rock something fierce for the record. Talk about, 'bringing the awesome...' Happily they are both short, so I won't have to worry about taking them around with me while reading. They look to be manageable in a small amount of reading time.

Now that you know how awesome I am because of what I bought today, I'm going to tell you why you should stop by Atlanta Vintage Books should you be in the metro area: it is a giant treasure box of stuff you didn't know you wanted, but upon entering you realize you can't do without.

Non-fiction is their staple, as is true with any book store, and they do a good bit of business with old books, like William Shakespeare's complete works in twenty volumes as published by blah blah and blah. As much as I loathe (and yes there is a difference between loath and loathe) the idea of people buying sets of books solely for looks, I do have to admit: those old books, look really cool. As do the 'new old' books I bought.

I was able to hold back and not go all out on the first edition, signed copies of Gone with the Wind or Atlas Shrugged simply because I've never made as much money as those books sell for let alone had as much expendable cash.

It's not Borders, or Barnes and Nobles, and things aren't filed or shelved as neatly as Amazon… but they do have a kick-ass espresso machine and pastry--both at no charge--in addition to providing a wonderfully unique and altogether pleasant book buying experience.

Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrless

What would the fantasy genre have become with out the breakout popularity of a certain hobbit? Would everything have to come in installments of three? Would there still be such as thing as epic fantasy? Would it still be the big money maker that it is for the publishing industry?

Lud-in-the-Mist offers readers a glimpse of fantasy literature before Lord of the Rings defined the genre in so many people's minds. By no means is it the origins of fantasy literature, but it is a look at the genre before it birthed voices of dissent that only popularity affords (like mine), spawned a multitude of sub-genres, and twelve volume series that continue long after the authors untimely passing.

The story is simple, and that single element is the most refreshing part of the reading experience. It is sorely lacking in the plot convolution, character over analyzation, and page-turning-frenzy that marks so many of today's works of genre fiction. It could be said, and I for one would agree, that the book starts slow. And not the slow of too-much-exposition-not-enough-action of todays novels, but the unhurried pace of a true nineteenth-century novel though it was written in 1926. Upon completion of the book, what is more apparent than the 'slow' pace is the author's comfort with the speed that events happen. Never is their an effort to hurry things up or make events read faster, rather she is in complete control of the story's presentation and very aware of the fact. It is not so much a matter of forcing the reader to be patient, but there is a definite stylistic difference in Lud-in-the-Mist in comparison to a recently written novel of any genre.

Many of today's novels move at the pace of a prime time TV drama (and default to as little character development as well) as that is a viable story-telling medium that we are all exposed too. If you are able to 'unplug' and take things as they are given, without skimming to find the action you will find much to enjoy in Lud-in-the-Mist unhurried presentation.

There is an overwhelming sense of familiarity with this book. Perhaps, because of that feeling there is almost no real gravity in any given situation; even those concerning life and death. The familiarity is due to the works influence on so many of today's modern British fantasy writers: Susanna Clarke, Neil Gaiman, and John Connolly to mention a few. While the origins of those writers works don't lie solely in Lud-in-the-Mist its influence can't be denied. From one source or another, we, as readers, are familiar with the material in Lud-in-the-Mist.

We somehow know not the trust "The Green Man" and of course the boundary of our world and Fairieland is not to be crossed (even if the 'why' intrigues us) just as we know it is wrong to partake of things from Fairieland. But think of the delight and wonder that readers at the time felt when reading this work. What we now accept as folklore was at some point in time, an original concept. This book is refined comfort food and a bit of a guilty pleasure all in one: homemade chicken soup on a cold, rainy day with chocolate cake and a glass of milk to follow.

It is this sense of comfort--almost as if you are re-reading a work that has been a long time favorite--that gives Lud-in-the-Mist such a satisfying feeling of intimacy. There is no plot twist when the hero is wronged, or the murder trial goes according to plan. What we would today call simple and straightforward was perhaps shocking in it's own time.

I wouldn't say this was the kind of book I wish I had read as a child, because--truth be told--I'm not sure I would have gotten through the slow pace of the beginning (much like I struggled with Lord of the Rings at an older age.) But having read Lud-in-the-Mist I am sorely tempted to go back and read those opening pages again, now understanding their quality and pertinence.

To think that the world doesn't have to be at risk, and the fate of humanity isn't at stake--in a fantasy novel, no less--and that a story can still have significance may shock some, but trust me, it works. Oddly enough, while this book doesn't focus on plot machinations, it is not a character study either. While we do meet very interesting individuals it's charm lies in it simplicity. There is so much room for a readers personal imagination to 'fill in the gaps' where a modern author may have spelled everything out.

Quite simply, this book is the reason I read fiction: it's fun. Much as I loved it, I can't recommend it to everyone in good faith. It is not for the modern reader, nor the timid that can't handle nineteenth-century style prose and exposition. But to any lover of fantasy that is well read in the genre and seeking something truly different that in one way or another you have read before, there is no other book that I can give a higher recommendation. It is a beautiful, non-epic, of the most trivial sort--and I say all of those with the kindest of meaning. While the construction of the book may be terrible, I'm glad someone is still printing it as I feel it would be a shame for this volume to be hard to find. As it is widely available if you up for something different, in a mundane sort of way, then go grab a copy.

Three Strikes

July has been a really bad reading month for me. I’ve picked up three books with intentions of finishing them promptly and ended up putting all three down. It has been a little disheartening to say the least.

The only one of the three that I feel deserves mention would be Then we Came to the End by Joshua Ferris. It’s laugh-out-loud funny in spots, but for me there was no gravity to hold the loosely strung together events called the plot with any cohesion.

Not to make a division among readers, but any who read casually and want something fun and funny; this book would get a high recommendation. I personally needed a more present central element to give things a feeling of unity. This was by no means a bad book, it’s just not for me.

As my everyday reading pile crapped out three straight turds, I’ve retreated deep into familiar and comfortable territory. I’m half way through Demons by Fyodor Dostoevsky and Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol. Needless to say, I’m enjoying myself. If things go well and these two are finished shortly I may indulge in a third bit of comfort fiction with Hero of our Time by Mikhail Lermontov.

Anyone else have any reading duds lately?

Who cares about Holden Caulfield?

Catcher in the Rye is being talked about a lot these days. (Perhaps it’s time I read that book…) I feel that I can understand Salinger’s feelings and I think he has a legitimate grip. What I think needs further evaluation is the relevancy of Catcher in today’s literary canon.

Some books, like Catcher are time sensitive: Notes from Undergroundwhat I think is Dostoyevsky's most intelligent work , and the more recent The Reluctant Fundamentalist are two others that come to mind. It is not to say that these books are irrelevant to later generations but the bulk of their clout is going to be felt be readers at the time of the works writing. While I always think that Catcher will be regarded as a great work for reasons I hope to experience for myself shortly, I do think it’s star is fading.

Salinger is ninety and in declining physical health. The readers that the novel so heavily affected aren’t to far behind. With this passing of a generation I wonder about the credence given to a work like Catcher. To those who read it within a few years of it’s publication especially readers around Holden's age they were moved and felt they found a spokesman of sorts: some one who thought like them and expressed everything they couldn’t and acted as they wish they had the guts to do. Those same readers make the best teachers to todays generation when it comes to explaining the novel and it’s appeal. Because of that strong connection and identification that they experienced they can better relate the message of the novel to other young readers. It’s a bit like listening to someone in their late fifties tell you about the how great the Beatles were. (Well perhaps not, Salinger’s writing actually does have substantial merit.)

My contention with classics of the arts in any medium: be it literature, music, or visual art--is that in today’s age of declining interest in classical arts the classics do more damage than good. We make kids today read Catcher and Wuthering Heights because they are great and everyone should appreciate their quality. Twenty years ago that may not have been a big deal but today getting kids excited to read a book is a chore in itself; tell them they are reading a “Classic of Western Literature” and watch the eyes roll and try to gauge their boredom in metric tons. What faster way to turn off interest in reading is there?

If we are going to force kids to read give them something they want. Let them read all the pulp fiction that they can get their hands on. Let them enjoy it before we turn them off to it. Everyone’s taste change in time, some even mature. You can’t force escargot on an eight year old and demand that they like because it is fine dining. (An extreme example; I know.)

Furthermore, has there been absolutely nothing of note written since Catcher that may have literay merit and appeal to todays youth? Perhaps coming of age stories are dead--I sure as hell don’t like the genre. Perhaps children today come of age earlier in life than in Caulden’s time. Yeah, I can see how the internet would work like that.

I’m not saying bury the classics but with the constant forcible promotion of, “This is a great book goddamnit!” I feel we are doing more to stunt the interest in reading than promote it.