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| Great Paragraph from The Book of Disquiet |
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| The Book of Disquiet |
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| Constantine |
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| Upside down Constantine on left-hand page contrasted with upside down girl on right-hand page (picture above) |
Reading Now
29 August 2013
Comic Colors
Shōgun- My End to Summer Reading
For a little over a week, I read 100 or so pages a day as I devoured James Clavell's Shōgun. It was a serious read-a-thon that ended late one night, at 3 AM. An epic tale set in the year 1600, the novel chronicles the arrival of the Dutch ship Erasmus, captained by the Englishman Blackthorne, in a still very isolated Japan. Arriving in a land where customs, language and dress are ostensibly incomprehensible, Blackthorne quickly adapts to the world around him. Many characters, as the story progresses and Blackthorne's power and influence grow, suggest that perhaps in another life the captain (Anjin-San, as he is called) was once Japanese himself. How else to explain his quick adaptation to the life and language? As Blackthorne tries to secure trading connections for his country, he ends up getting embroiled in more than he asked for.
The novel is filled with tensions.The Spanish and the Dutch, who already have a presence in Japan, are hostile to the newly arrived Dutch and English crew. The Catholic priests, who facilitate trade between Japan and China, face the displeasure of many Japanese daimyos and samurai who dislike their interference and influence. More particularly, Blackthorne finds himself a pawn in the battle between Toranaga and Ishido, two daimyos who serve as part of a ruling Council of Regents. The novel also features a love story between Blackthorne and Mariko, an astoundingly courageous woman samurai who loyally serves Toranaga. Shōgun moves through war, courage, death, and power, as demonstrated by the warring daimyos and their sometimes not-so-loyal vassals, and Mariko's character is rooted in this and more. Her humor, intelligence, tenderness, loyalty and sensuality make her stand out amongst many characters.
As a piece of historical fiction, the novel is loosely based around exploits of real people and attempts to illustrate areas of Japanese ideology and world-view, including explanations of karma, bushido, and Shinto. Haiku competitions, death haikus, tea ceremonies, and seppuku are present throughout the text and help to explain a sense of Japanese life in the 17th century. How accurate the novel is, I could not say. I know not if the dialogue between the Japanese characters, though seemingly appropriate in my mind, was really how they would speak-- but I do not care much about any of that. As far as I'm concerned, this novel was a wonderful submersion into Japanese life at the cusp of the Edo period. Scenery and atmosphere were vivid and absorbing. Personally, this was one my favorite parts about Shōgun, though it sometimes startling in its lack of mercy and strict understanding of obedience.
What I enjoyed most was the pace. Event by event, the complex plot moved at a steady enough rate that allowed me to keep up with a clear understanding while still being surprising and exciting. I made a hefty amount of notes at first but once I understood the set up, there was no need to keep referencing it. The novel relies on a complex web of characters, each with important allegiances and personal histories, but it is never too complicated to understand.
I don't know if I will ever read Shōgun's sequel, Tai-pei, which I have had for years after a high school teacher lent it to me. Instead, I have ready Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov and Auster's The New York Trilogy up next, probably starting with the latter then moving on to my first real Russian classic. I tried reading Anna Karenina once many years ago--I was too young and did not succeed!
Summer reading is officially over! My last year as a college student began this Monday and I couldn't be more excited. Some of my more exciting classes this year are Shakespeare and Deconstruction, 20th Century African American Literature (Toni Morrison is assigned!!), and The Seven Original Sins. With five serious classes, my work load this semester will probably be more than past times, but I truly am looking forward to working hard, reading hard. Especially after having the opportunity to read so many personal books this summer, I am going to really focus on my reading for classes. Starting of with W. E. B. Du Bois' The Souls of Black Folk.
Thanks for checking up with me! I recommend Shōgun to those who enjoy historical fiction, stories with a complex connection of characters, romance, and long novels. Until next time...
TheAvidReadr
The novel is filled with tensions.The Spanish and the Dutch, who already have a presence in Japan, are hostile to the newly arrived Dutch and English crew. The Catholic priests, who facilitate trade between Japan and China, face the displeasure of many Japanese daimyos and samurai who dislike their interference and influence. More particularly, Blackthorne finds himself a pawn in the battle between Toranaga and Ishido, two daimyos who serve as part of a ruling Council of Regents. The novel also features a love story between Blackthorne and Mariko, an astoundingly courageous woman samurai who loyally serves Toranaga. Shōgun moves through war, courage, death, and power, as demonstrated by the warring daimyos and their sometimes not-so-loyal vassals, and Mariko's character is rooted in this and more. Her humor, intelligence, tenderness, loyalty and sensuality make her stand out amongst many characters.
As a piece of historical fiction, the novel is loosely based around exploits of real people and attempts to illustrate areas of Japanese ideology and world-view, including explanations of karma, bushido, and Shinto. Haiku competitions, death haikus, tea ceremonies, and seppuku are present throughout the text and help to explain a sense of Japanese life in the 17th century. How accurate the novel is, I could not say. I know not if the dialogue between the Japanese characters, though seemingly appropriate in my mind, was really how they would speak-- but I do not care much about any of that. As far as I'm concerned, this novel was a wonderful submersion into Japanese life at the cusp of the Edo period. Scenery and atmosphere were vivid and absorbing. Personally, this was one my favorite parts about Shōgun, though it sometimes startling in its lack of mercy and strict understanding of obedience.
What I enjoyed most was the pace. Event by event, the complex plot moved at a steady enough rate that allowed me to keep up with a clear understanding while still being surprising and exciting. I made a hefty amount of notes at first but once I understood the set up, there was no need to keep referencing it. The novel relies on a complex web of characters, each with important allegiances and personal histories, but it is never too complicated to understand.
I don't know if I will ever read Shōgun's sequel, Tai-pei, which I have had for years after a high school teacher lent it to me. Instead, I have ready Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov and Auster's The New York Trilogy up next, probably starting with the latter then moving on to my first real Russian classic. I tried reading Anna Karenina once many years ago--I was too young and did not succeed!
Summer reading is officially over! My last year as a college student began this Monday and I couldn't be more excited. Some of my more exciting classes this year are Shakespeare and Deconstruction, 20th Century African American Literature (Toni Morrison is assigned!!), and The Seven Original Sins. With five serious classes, my work load this semester will probably be more than past times, but I truly am looking forward to working hard, reading hard. Especially after having the opportunity to read so many personal books this summer, I am going to really focus on my reading for classes. Starting of with W. E. B. Du Bois' The Souls of Black Folk.
Thanks for checking up with me! I recommend Shōgun to those who enjoy historical fiction, stories with a complex connection of characters, romance, and long novels. Until next time...
TheAvidReadr
20 August 2013
"The heart is an organ of fire..."
The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje
Published early in the '90s, this beautiful love story centers around fire, identity and war. World War II is ending and three individuals who worked in and around the fighting have met together in an abandoned Villa, surreal and peaceful. There is Hana, a beautiful and young woman, only twenty years old, who works as a kind and competent nurse. She is burdened by the deaths of the many soldiers she has tended to, however, and the loss of her father and her own unborn child weigh heavily on her. When passing through Florence, Hana decides to stay behind with one of her patients, burned and not doing very well. Even though Hana is equipped with energy and great emotional strength, her love for this unrecognizable and dying man is testimony to the damage the war has done her.
The English patient is the victim of a plane crash that left him in flames, in the desert, with no one but the Bedouin tribes to cure him. Though his real nationality and name are originally unknown, the patient's secret and true identity eventually are brought to light through the telling of his own fatal love story. Hana listens to his ceaseless talking and singing, which narratively blends into their present situation, making for a dreamlike reading experience.
Hana might not have been able to handle such an intense lifestyle, curing the English patient and living in a bombed out home by her lonesome, for long but for the arrival of two more men into their life. Caravaggio is a thief, but he is also a family friend of Hana's. (This may sound different to those of you who have only seen the movie, in which Caravaggio has no previous connection with Hana and only is at the Villa to find out about the English Patient). Caravaggio very much cares about Hana and arrives at the Villa after he heard rumors of her situation. He is dealing with his thumbs having been cut off as punishment for thieving but, once there, finds that he has an inkling who the English patient really is. Caravaggio's presence is uplifting, though he is sometimes a trickster.
The third character who comes to enter Hana's world is Kip, a Sikh sapper (someone who clears or lays out mines). After reading the novel and watching the movie back to back, the main criticism I have of the movie is its underplaying Kip's role. Extremely important in the novel, Kip's character is delved into at great length. His job and physical appearance are related in great detail. His past and even his future are told in the book. Overall, the reader gets invested in this character much more than a viewer might in the movie. His love affair with Hana is one of the most beautiful parts of the book, in my opinion even more so than that of Almásy and Katharine. It is through Kip that Hana's grip on the real world slowly returns and vice-versa. As young as they both are, Kip and Hana need to heal after the things they have seen and the people they have lost, and their love for each other certainly gives them the opportunity.
The writing in this book was phenomenal. Ghostly, sometimes obscure in the dreamlike recountings of Almásy and Kip's past, and heavily symbolic. Though I don't want to get into all of it now, the countless references to fires and mirrors would be enough to write a paper on. If I had to pick one line that summed up the book, it would be: "The heart is an organ of fire."
The story is of three individual lives, but these lives meet together in this one point in time and it makes for a beautiful gathering. In some ways, it reminds me of the book Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett. Though very different, both stories center around the idea of separate people, strangers in many ways, being isolated together in a home and the tenuous but desperate connections that form there.
The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa
I bought this book the other day while I was still engaged in other readings, but I have been super excited to get started on it. I picked it first because it was a Penguin Classic and seemed interesting, and secondly for the amazing, amazing reviews it had. I'm a little confused about those reviews, now, though. The book is definitely beautifully written, but it is pure melancholia. It is literally the ravings of what seems to be a mad-man, gone crazy from isolation and depression. I hardly understand it, to be honest. And by "it," I mean the convoluted writings that sometimes serve only as indications of the narrator's state of mind:
Here are some pictures:
Until next time, y'all!
TheAvidReadr
Published early in the '90s, this beautiful love story centers around fire, identity and war. World War II is ending and three individuals who worked in and around the fighting have met together in an abandoned Villa, surreal and peaceful. There is Hana, a beautiful and young woman, only twenty years old, who works as a kind and competent nurse. She is burdened by the deaths of the many soldiers she has tended to, however, and the loss of her father and her own unborn child weigh heavily on her. When passing through Florence, Hana decides to stay behind with one of her patients, burned and not doing very well. Even though Hana is equipped with energy and great emotional strength, her love for this unrecognizable and dying man is testimony to the damage the war has done her.
The English patient is the victim of a plane crash that left him in flames, in the desert, with no one but the Bedouin tribes to cure him. Though his real nationality and name are originally unknown, the patient's secret and true identity eventually are brought to light through the telling of his own fatal love story. Hana listens to his ceaseless talking and singing, which narratively blends into their present situation, making for a dreamlike reading experience.
Hana might not have been able to handle such an intense lifestyle, curing the English patient and living in a bombed out home by her lonesome, for long but for the arrival of two more men into their life. Caravaggio is a thief, but he is also a family friend of Hana's. (This may sound different to those of you who have only seen the movie, in which Caravaggio has no previous connection with Hana and only is at the Villa to find out about the English Patient). Caravaggio very much cares about Hana and arrives at the Villa after he heard rumors of her situation. He is dealing with his thumbs having been cut off as punishment for thieving but, once there, finds that he has an inkling who the English patient really is. Caravaggio's presence is uplifting, though he is sometimes a trickster.
The third character who comes to enter Hana's world is Kip, a Sikh sapper (someone who clears or lays out mines). After reading the novel and watching the movie back to back, the main criticism I have of the movie is its underplaying Kip's role. Extremely important in the novel, Kip's character is delved into at great length. His job and physical appearance are related in great detail. His past and even his future are told in the book. Overall, the reader gets invested in this character much more than a viewer might in the movie. His love affair with Hana is one of the most beautiful parts of the book, in my opinion even more so than that of Almásy and Katharine. It is through Kip that Hana's grip on the real world slowly returns and vice-versa. As young as they both are, Kip and Hana need to heal after the things they have seen and the people they have lost, and their love for each other certainly gives them the opportunity.
The writing in this book was phenomenal. Ghostly, sometimes obscure in the dreamlike recountings of Almásy and Kip's past, and heavily symbolic. Though I don't want to get into all of it now, the countless references to fires and mirrors would be enough to write a paper on. If I had to pick one line that summed up the book, it would be: "The heart is an organ of fire."
The story is of three individual lives, but these lives meet together in this one point in time and it makes for a beautiful gathering. In some ways, it reminds me of the book Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett. Though very different, both stories center around the idea of separate people, strangers in many ways, being isolated together in a home and the tenuous but desperate connections that form there.
The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa
I bought this book the other day while I was still engaged in other readings, but I have been super excited to get started on it. I picked it first because it was a Penguin Classic and seemed interesting, and secondly for the amazing, amazing reviews it had. I'm a little confused about those reviews, now, though. The book is definitely beautifully written, but it is pure melancholia. It is literally the ravings of what seems to be a mad-man, gone crazy from isolation and depression. I hardly understand it, to be honest. And by "it," I mean the convoluted writings that sometimes serve only as indications of the narrator's state of mind:
"How little, from the real world, forms the support of the best reflections: the fact of arriving late for lunch, of running out of matches, of personally, individually throwing the matchbox out of the window, of feeling out of sorts for having eaten late, the fact it's Sunday virtually guaranteeing a lousy sunset, the fact I'm nobody in the world, and all metaphysics."
"The flutes of impossible shepherds are no sweeter than the absence of flutes that right now reminds me of them. The distant idylls alongside streams grieve me in this inwardly analogous moment..."At the same time, the book is filled with some beautiful passages that make it a pleasure (though it is never uplifting) to read:
"Every man of today, unless his mortal stature and intellectual level are that of a pygmy or a churl, loves with romantic love when he loves. Romantic love is a rarefied product of century after century of Christian influence, and everything about its substance and development can be explained to the unenlightened by comparing it to a suit fashioned by the soul or the imagination and used to clothe those whom the mind thinks it fits, when they happen to come along.Wow! I can't believe it. I've read nineteen books so far this summer, not including the two I'm reading now!
But every suit, since it isn't eternal, lasts as long as it lasts; and soon, under the fraying clothes of the ideal we've formed, the real body of the person we dressed it in shows through.
Romantic love is thus a path to disillusion, unless this disillusion, accepted from the start, decides to vary the ideal constantly, constantly sewing new suits in the soul's workshops so as to constantly renew the appearance of the person they clothe."
Here are some pictures:
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| Reading Shogun with my cool LightWedge |
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| Cover Page and Bookplate |
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| Cover of Book of Disquiet, Pessoa |
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| Pessoa's Book of Disquiet |
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| Obsessed! |
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| Couldn't pick between the two pictures, not that they're very different haha! |
TheAvidReadr
14 August 2013
Plays & Murder Mysteries
I stepped into my sister's room the other day to find her watching "Shakespeare in Love," and was reminded how much I enjoyed reading Tom Stoppard for class. I picked up the volume of his I have and read "The Real Thing" in one day.
As his other plays have been, "The Real Thing" was funny, moving, and beautifully crafted. Full of heavy dialogue and featuring a play-within-a-play, Stoppard's play is an exploration of what it means to truly love someone. It follows two couples who break up and re-group, if you will, when one of the husbands cheats on his wife. Henry, originally married to Charlotte, leaves his wife for Annie, who was married to the character Max. Following this display of infidelity and unhappiness in marriage, Annie and Henry become husband and wife, declaring themselves wholly in love with one another. But Annie does not understand Henry's attitude towards love. He does not fret when Annie is hit on by other men, nor even when she hits on them. She begins to feel the lack of jealousy as a sign of Henry not really being in love with her, but Henry defends his attitude as being a sign of his trust in their union. In is mind, any connections made during those flirtations come no where near the relationship he shares with Annie and is thus not threatened or upset. By the end, Annie feels so confused she ends up in yet another extramarital affair, but this time behind Henry's back. Henry proves himself not as willing to let the matter slide, but the couple stays together on more faithful terms.
I do not know about the ways of drama, but I very much enjoy reading Stoppard's play. Perhaps "The Real Thing" has not been favorite of the five I've had the pleasure to read, but I sure enjoyed it and the wit was definitely not lacking.
I've also read Cuckoo's Calling, by Robert Galbraith. It's great! The death (Murder?! Suicide?!) is not terribly crazy or mysterious, but Rowling sets up the characters and facts with enough uncertainty that the resolution could be anything. The private investigator, Strike, is a great character though not too much time is spent getting to know him. Which is not to say you don't at all, but more that his interviews with people and research of events surrounding the death are much more what is leading the story (it is a murder mystery, after all). It is all done so that the reader is privy to a lot of questions and answers, but not so much to the mind workings of Strike as he solves the different puzzles and uncertainties surrounding the mystery. We are left to piece the facts along with him, though it is not so easy to do so.
Until Next Time:
TheAvidReadr
As his other plays have been, "The Real Thing" was funny, moving, and beautifully crafted. Full of heavy dialogue and featuring a play-within-a-play, Stoppard's play is an exploration of what it means to truly love someone. It follows two couples who break up and re-group, if you will, when one of the husbands cheats on his wife. Henry, originally married to Charlotte, leaves his wife for Annie, who was married to the character Max. Following this display of infidelity and unhappiness in marriage, Annie and Henry become husband and wife, declaring themselves wholly in love with one another. But Annie does not understand Henry's attitude towards love. He does not fret when Annie is hit on by other men, nor even when she hits on them. She begins to feel the lack of jealousy as a sign of Henry not really being in love with her, but Henry defends his attitude as being a sign of his trust in their union. In is mind, any connections made during those flirtations come no where near the relationship he shares with Annie and is thus not threatened or upset. By the end, Annie feels so confused she ends up in yet another extramarital affair, but this time behind Henry's back. Henry proves himself not as willing to let the matter slide, but the couple stays together on more faithful terms.
I do not know about the ways of drama, but I very much enjoy reading Stoppard's play. Perhaps "The Real Thing" has not been favorite of the five I've had the pleasure to read, but I sure enjoyed it and the wit was definitely not lacking.
I've also read Cuckoo's Calling, by Robert Galbraith. It's great! The death (Murder?! Suicide?!) is not terribly crazy or mysterious, but Rowling sets up the characters and facts with enough uncertainty that the resolution could be anything. The private investigator, Strike, is a great character though not too much time is spent getting to know him. Which is not to say you don't at all, but more that his interviews with people and research of events surrounding the death are much more what is leading the story (it is a murder mystery, after all). It is all done so that the reader is privy to a lot of questions and answers, but not so much to the mind workings of Strike as he solves the different puzzles and uncertainties surrounding the mystery. We are left to piece the facts along with him, though it is not so easy to do so.
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| From Stoppard's play "The Invention of Love" |
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| Kindle Caption |
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| Super Shelf |
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| What I'm reading now! |
Until Next Time:
TheAvidReadr
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