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.

Non-Fiction and Fun (Or the lack there of…)

Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov, A Brief History of TIme by Stephen Hawking Ph.D., Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks by Ethan Gilsdorf and Structural Power and the Construction of Markets: The Case of Rhythm and Blues by Timothy J. Dowd Ph.D., an article published in Comparative Social Research, Volume 21: of all of these, I think I enjoyed the latter the most.

I don't read a lot of non-fiction so perhaps I don't know what to look for to judge it's merits and faults, but in terms of what was the most fun, or what would I recommend to someone else, I have to go with Gilsdorf. If you make it through the free online preview without laughing, then I doubt our reading interest will ever coincide. I wish I'd taken notes while reading the Hawking, my retention would then have been much higher. I should have known that Nabokov would be the most cerebral and intellectual of the bunch with his command and elegant mastery of the English language. As for beautiful writing, Nabokov again wins in terms of prose and sheer creativity in presentation of a memoir. (I still think the, 'best' bit of writing within Speak, Memory was Nabokov's 'review' of the work at the end. It is much like the forward to Lolita except greatly expanded.)

I think non-fiction has some form of reader engagement that is, at the present, foreign to me. I can't say I ever, 'got into' any of these books except for the Dowd article--which covers a subject that I knew going into would have great immediate interest to me. Perhaps I'm going about things incorrectly and I need to follow some sort of primer as to how best enjoy non-fiction, and as always, I'm open to suggestions, but at the moment, I'm at a loss to see how book stores stay in business carrying as little fiction as they do. How does non-fiction sell as much as it does?

What am I missing? Why is the fiction market so tiny and yet that is what holds all my reading interest outside of academic writing concerning sociology? I once heard that the average person reads seventy pages in a book and then puts it down forever. If that statistic took into account non-fiction I kinda understand. I'd love to know further details of that study. To all the non-fiction lovers out there, I'm not hating, but have you heard of Arturo Perez-Reverte, John Connolly or a host of other I-have-read-everything-by-this-person-ever writers?

I've never been in with the 'in crowd' and I don't take the side of the minority 'just because,' but I'm missing (or have missed) the point when it comes to most non-fiction.

Short Story Poseurs

I've made it a point to read short stories this year and it has been an effort that I have greatly enjoyed. However, one aspect of short story anthologies that I have been running into that really bothers me is novel excerpts posing as short stories.

Sometimes this is unavoidable. A writer writes a piece, finishes it, and it turns out to be of 'short story length' only to expand upon it at a later time and develop the work into a novel. But the blatant inclusion of the these not-short-stories in the hopes of getting readers to purchase a collection on the off chance they only want to read author 'X' is offensive, and will probably turn reader off from reading more short stories in the long run when they see author 'X's' new novel out; now with eighty percent more of the short story you already enjoyed for twice the price sandwiched between chapter nine and eleven.

If you want to publish a collection of related novel excerpts, then do so and market them as such, but don't mislead and imply that an excerpt and a short story are one and the same. Very few of these novel excerpts can stand well on their own, hence the reason they are novels. From the editors stand point it looks good to put "Neil Gaiman's" name or whomever on the cover. As a reader, it pisses me off and I feel it does damage to the collection as a whole. Anyone care to call me out with a contrary argument?

Tangent: the spelling of the word poseur gave--and still gives--me a bit of trouble. It seems 'poser' is totally wrong yet completely acceptable. Which really makes me wonder about 'y'all,' a third person plural contraction that is found in an large number of languages yet is frowned upon in English as improper 'southern grammar.' As a southerner I'm offended and as an American speaking English (armour, honour) I'm confused. Latin retention seems a bit arbitrary, archaic for the hell-of-it, and wholly unneeded.

Semantically confused, and hating all you posers…

Chad.

Out of Touch

I am currently living in a bygone era.  I have sailed backwards on the ocean of time to juncture where rapid access telecommunication aren’t possible.  You’d be amazed how much you can accomplish in life without a cell phone.

How many of our day to day conversations of any length or topic are truly necessary?  Would you be a different person with out the endless meaningless text that we use to justify the “unlimited” plan on our cell phone bill?  How would you spend your time differently among people you are going to have dinner with if you hadn’t already spoken to them eight times via phone call or text in the past few hours?

I am only in day two of life without a phone.  It is not on silent, nor am I willfully ignoring it, rather it has ceased to draw breath.  After four years of ardent, faithful service and withstanding my abuse in dropping it on the floor, in the washing machine and throwing it at the wall I say to my dearly departed phone of old, “Well done thou good and faithful servant.”  

And as I prepare for life to begin anew with a delivery tomorrow of a phone that promises to cut my hair, put the laundry in the dryer, and dispense cold ginger beer I find myself wondering if I want to upgrade my life via phone--something I previously thought to be necessary--or find contentment with my current rustic ways.

Life without a cell phone has been a bit like a bender without the booze: You are alone and in full awareness of you solitude but there is no inconvenience on your part; only if anyone else should wish to contact you.  Much as my 48 hour unplugged experience has affected and made me re-evaluate my relationship with others it has had the strongest effect of me.

There is so much time in the day, that I felt I was losing to god-knows-what-I was talking about on the phone before.  Thus far, life without a cell phone has harkened no catastrophes or acts of God I would have associated with the lack of cell phone possession.   I was able to wake up on time for work with out a phone, work has yet to be impeded in anyway, and anyone that I truly needed to talk to has found a way to get a message through.  (I understand that computers help me cheat the true old school experience.)   What I’ve gain is a bit harder to measure in terms of tangible benefit but it is nothing I’ve missed: an endless amount to text that would have been entertaining for a 5 second period, a few dozen random solicitations for unknown phones numbers, and an automated phone call from my gym letting me know my membership is two days past due.  Oh yeah, and no one from work can call me on the weekend.  No one from work can call me when I leave work.  No one from work can call me: ever.  Does any of that justify not having a cell phone?  No, and yes.

There are those who have told me that an iphone will change my life.  I don’t doubt that it can.  However, after spending a few days without a cell phone after having one for years, I’m not convinced I want my to change back to the way it was. 

Liberation from the Bad

This is a New Year’s Resolution of sorts: I am not putting up with anything bad.  I was overcome with this feeling of intolerance—ironically a feeling I’m almost always brimming over with—as I was cleaning up my apartment the other day.  I picked up two books that were on the couch, both half finished, and finally said, “fuck it” and put them away on the shelf.  

I felt good after doing this.  It was like shedding unneeded weight.  The list of stuff I want to read never seems to get any shorter and to be slowed down with stuff that isn’t of interest to me doesn’t make any sense.  I used to finish everything I’d start only for the satisfaction I got from completion.  From here on out, I need to receive some manner of pleasure out of completion, no more suffering through crap just to say I did it.  

I tend to read a book I like in three-seven days depending on duration and subject matter.  Most recently I finished The Virgin Suicides.  I didn’t like it but read in it three days because I thought it was well written and occasionally made me laugh out loud.  The story’s “plot” for a lack of a better word wasn’t to my liking as well as a host of other “Chad-conceived” shortcomings…  If I no longer put up with all the bad stuff it’s kinda scary to think of what I could get done in terms of reading and life in general.  So exhilarating was this new found yet inherent freedom that the night I liberated myself I started a few ebay auctions for ‘Chad’s Bad Pile of Bad Books that Suck’, in addition to getting through one hundred and twenty pages of John Connolly’s The Book of Lost Things.  

When I’m writing and struggling in the “re-reading/revision” portion, I look to see if there is an idea or one point that is worth saving: I try to justify the struggle.  If there is something of merit, then I’ll copy and paste the whole section that presented the problem in another file to struggle over another day as to not impede my progress.  If the portion of material I’m looking at has no quality at all, I’ve gotten really good at highlighting the whole thing and hitting the delete key.  It took me a while to be able to do that as in the beginning I thought everything I wrote was gold but now, there really is not a more liberating feeling for me than cutting out all the bad stuff and moving on to use my time more efficiently.  Now, the same is true for me reading material.  All that’s bad shall not linger.

Quantifying what is bad is a little tricky.  Henceforth, ‘bad’ will be subject to my whims and temperament, my pre-buying/screening process, feelings I have about previous works I’ve read by the author, and what ever I’m drinking at the moment.

This is probably something that most people have lived by or at least followed through with for all of their adult-reading-for-pleasure lives, but for me it was a revelation of sorts. I’m done with all that’s bad in life, and going forward I’ll hate accordingly: “strongly, exclusively, steadfastly.”