The Summer Book Season is upon us
What have I been thinking?? Summer is the time for books, books, BOOKS, and so I’ve been reading books, books, BOOKS, but I haven’t reported on any of them. I must be majorly distracted or something.
Without further yappage, here is where I stand as of the week of May 21, 2006:
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
A former design professor turned me on to Murakami’s books a year ago? Two years ago? I don’t recall. My first Murakami experience was with The Wind Up Bird Chronicle. Probably not the best choice; it’s his best book, so every Murakami book since then has been held to a ridiculously high standard. Few have added up, the notable exception being the second Murakami book that I’ve read, Norwegian Wood. Whereas the former has the feel of The Ring directed by David Lynch, the latter is a love story that is so gut wrenchingly bittersweet that I still get misty when I think about it. And I don’t read love stories. He’s that good.
Enough blather. Kafka was good, but not great. The thing about Murakami books that you have to realize is that he’s exploring a few specific themes much like an artist paints a series of paintings that all address a concept in only slightly different ways. Murakami uses similar character names, similar pets, etc. in most of his books. It’s odd. I guess I’ve read about these characters so many times I’ve grown numb to them.
All things considered, I still recommend reading Kafka. And all the rest of Murakami’s books. If you like post-modern Asian fiction (think of the hum of dischord that ran throughout The Ring, something disturbing that’s not in your face but instead is lurking beneath the surface) you’ll like his books.
And technically I only finished this book after school got out. I began reading it over spring break. Forgive me. The rest of the books that I say I’ve read I actually have read since the first week of May. Really.
McSweeney’s #14 by…um, McSweeney’s
I don’t know when I was first bitten by the McSweeney’s bug but it’s been a curse on my soul. All I want to do after reading a McSweeney’s book is read another one. I read the web site, I read the store site, I am on a few mail lists for a few McSweeney’s authors… I have a fevuh, and the only prescription is MORE MCSWEENEY’S.
I really don’t know how to sell this series of publications adequately, nor can I describe them. Others have described McSweeney’s’ publications as “high-brow low-brow.” I think I agree. It’s like reading about bodily functions while sipping a flute of Dom. Avant garde offbeat writing for the masses.
This issue isn’t like the other issues that I own. It’s not actually numbered (it was published between #13 and #15, hence it’s #14). It’s not a hardcover or in any other goofy state, like served in a cigar box (#19) or as a rubber banded bundle of junk mail (#17). The stories in this issue are — as almost always — awesome. I took a minor detour before reading act III of Denis Johnson’s play Soul of a Whore so I could read act II from McSweeney’s #11, an issue that I purchased months ago but still have not read in its entirety.
Why am I saying this stuff? Hell if I know. I love McSweeney’s. Deal.
Speaking of McSweeney’s…
The Day they Hung the Elephant by Charles Edwin Price
When I subscribed to McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern the day after Christmas ‘05 I received — as an incentive — a free copy of the recently published Better of McSweeney’s book. I’ll only take a moment to gush over this thing: it rocks. Hard. The first story in the book was about an elephant who kills a guy and is sentenced to hang. This was an incredibly moving, very sad story (but very well written and well worth the read). At the end, the author gives a nod to CEP’s book. Evidently the metaphysical stuff in the story in BoMcS’s was made up but the core story of the elephant, the killing, and the hanging were true.
I, of course, had to read this book. And I did. In about 20 minutes. It’s only 43 pages long and looks like it was self published. It wasn’t, but it’s a pretty cheesy book. Regardless, the story in the book was incredible. The photo of Mary the elephant hanging from the 100 ton derrick car wasn’t pretty, but it was still worth the read.
The Best Non-required Reading of 2005 edited by Dave Eggers
You know there has to be a McSweeney’s reference here, right? Dave Eggers, author of the almost-Pulitzer prize winning A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, owns/runs McSweeney’s. Some McS’s authors are in this book, like that’s a surprise or something. Doesn’t matter, the book blew me away. Only a few duds, but I can forgive a few. Also well worth reading, even if you’re sick to death of reading about McSweeney’s stuff in this blog post.
Eragon by Christopher Paolini
The hell you say? Not only not a McS’s book, but a friggin’ TEEN BOOK? You gotta be kiddin’ me, right?
Nope, I read it. And I’m glad I did. Since giving in to the Borg and diving into the Harry Potter series I’ve learned that some of the best storytelling isn’t with adult fiction. The Potter series got me into Lemony Snicket and Eoin Colfer, which somehow got me into Clive Barker’s Abarat books (I can’t wait for vol. III), which somehow led me to this book.
Considering Paolini started writing it when he was 15 and published it when he was 19, I’d say this is one helluva feat and one helluva good book. I gather the second volume in this trilogy, Eldest, is lacking, but this book was great. It’s definitely a teen book — no Pulitzers will ever go anywhere near Eragon — but who cares? Get over yourself and try some teen stuff. You won’t be sorry.
The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
I know, I know. It’s old, it’s tired, everyone’s read this damn thing and nobody seems capable of shutting up about it. My wife read it a year ago and has been badgering me to read it during school breaks. In her words, it’s a “brainless, quick read.” That sums it up perfectly. It’s a very easy to read book, it’s just interesting enough to keep you turning pages, and it’s definitely brainless. For simple, don’t-challenge-me summer reading this book is great.
If you want real suspense, though, screw this book. Read Intensity by Dean Koontz. Hands down, that is the single most painfully tense book I’ve ever read. It’s more of a page turner, the suspense is real, the story is agonizingly, drippingly wonderful, and it’s also fairly brainless. If you have to choose one intense book to read this summer, make it Intensity. If blood and violence turn your gut, read Da Vinci.
And then read Intensity. Look, just read the damn thing, okay? I’m tired of selling it.
Soooo… What am I reading now?
I feel like I’ve built up my reading tolerance to a point where I can begin to tackle Neal Stephenson’s “Baroque Cycle” series. I already read Cryptonomicon which is technically the beginning of the story, but in a weird way like how The Hobbit is part of Lord of the Rings but at the same time isn’t, know what I mean? Don’t sweat it, neither do I. But with that book out of the way, I’m now reading vol. I, Quicksilver. It’s over 900 pages of dense prose. It took me over a half hour to get through the first 15 pages last night. This is after putting down Da Vinci which you could conceivably read in one day if you began at 1:00 a.m. and finished at 12:59 p.m. It’s going to be a ride.
That’s a bit too heavy for bedtime reading, though. On my nightstand I have Christopher Moore’s The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove. I love Moore’s books. Lamb is hands-down my favorite, followed by Bloodsucking Fiends. The rest are good, but those two are great. Hopefully Lust will join the ranks of the great. If not, no biggie. It’s Moore. He doesn’t take himself seriously so why should you? We all need druggie and sacriligious humor every now and then. Folks take themselves so seriously nowadays…
Anyway, that was a long as hell post. I’d apologize, but y’know, it’s my blog.
