"The Picture, Changed or Unchanged, Would be to Him the Visible Emblem of Conscience."

I honestly don't know how I didn't read The Picture of Dorian Gray sooner than at 43 years of age. I read The Importance of Being Earnest a few years back and just loved Wilde's style of writing, humor, and yes, everyone's favorite adjective to describe him, wit. But I guess I never looked into what the novel was about, the circumstances around Wilde and his life, and really didn't know much about it. Boy, do I wish I had read it sooner. 

It really felt as close to a perfect novel as I think I've ever read. The concept of a person's soul being encapsulated in a painting and then deteriorating as the human himself behaves in reprehensible ways, while his human form remains youthful, beautiful, and flawless, is so simple, but quite brilliant. And it wasn't just this basis that gave the book its strength, but how Wilde wove his insightful commentary on the human condition as it pertained to what Dorian was going through. Even though this commentary was often very egotistical, self-centered, lacking compassion for others, and vanity personified. There are countless passages I could have used for the quote in my heading, but here are just a few that I loved:

"Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one's self."

"It is a sad thing to think of, but there is no doubt that Genius lasts longer than Beauty. That accounts for the fact that we all take such pains to over-educate ourselves. In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. The thoroughly well-informed man 0 that is the modern ideal. And the mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing."

"I never approve, or disapprove, or anything now. It is an absurd attitude to take towards life. We are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices. I never take any notice of what common people say, and I never interfere with what charming people do."

"The worship of the senses has often, and with much justice, been decried, men feeling a natural instinct of terror about passions and sensations that seem stronger than themselves, and that they are conscious of sharing with the less highly organized forms of existence. But it appeared to Dorian Gray that the true nature of the senses had never been understood, and that they had remained savage and animal merely because the world had sought to starve them into submission or to kill them by pain, instead of aiming at making them elements of a new spirituality, of which a fine instinct for beauty was to be the dominant characteristic."

And that last passage really seems to speak to Wilde himself. It's quite sad reading this ~130 years later knowing that he served 2 years in prison/hard labor for "gross indecency" with men for being gay. And eventually died at a young age in abject poverty. 

I don't generally like to go back and re-read books. I'm a one and done kind of gal. I think the only books I've re-read were Beloved and The Bell Jar, which are both two of my favorites. I can absolutely see this being one I eventually read again as well. It was just so rich and like I said, felt like the perfect novel. I feel like I could admire and appreciate so much more on a second read, so we'll see if I one day get around to that. 

So while I close out 2022 with this book, I'm proud to say that I read 26 books this year, which is the most I've ever done (at least since I've been tracking). A key component to this which I recently embraced, are audiobooks. I've read a few this year, and at some point in the near future, I'll devote a post summarizing those that I've read (none from the book lists). But up next, I'll circle back around to Fear of Flying by Erica Jong. I started reading this book last summer, got about 3 pages in, and didn't want to continue. I think it was because I had just finished Portnoy's Complaint and had consumed plenty of vulgarity (and I'm definitely no square!!) and infidelity for a moment. But I think I'm ready to try again. Wish me luck. 

182 left. 

"Preventing Your Heart From Forgiving Someone You Love is Actually a Hell of a Lot Harder Than Simply Forgiving Them."

I took a quick sojourn from the book lists to read a popular author to see what the fuss was all about. So I read It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover. For those of you who don't know, Colleen Hoover has all but dominated the fiction market in the last couple years, occupying most of the spaces on the NYT Bestsellers list for most of 2022. My sister is a big fan so I wanted to see how I felt about this hype. 

And lemme tell ya, it's been a minute since I've read a book that make me mad (probably since Go Set a Watchman, but for very very different reasons). From the jump, I despised the trope of the here's-the-super-goodlooking-neurosurgeon-who-doesn't-believe-in-love-but-she's-the-one-woman-he'll-change-all-of-that-for. Lily's (the main character) love interest, Ryle, was a toxic piece of shit right out of the gate. And it legit made me angry that he was written in a way to intentionally make (female) readers fall for this guy as a "charmer." Awww, he went knocking on 29 peoples' doors in the middle of the night because he just had to find her? So sweet! Wrong. Toxic AF. He was begging her to have sex with him because he couldn't stop thinking of her! He must be in love. Wrong. Toxic AF. 

And the way Lily's feelings for Ryle were written made me angry. There was no substance to them - she "just loved him" (uhhh, of course any woman from an abusive home who meets the gorgeous doctor who can't get enough of you and love-bombs the fuck out of you is going to believe that it's love). And when he became the abuser, every excuse was made for his behavior. It was an accident, I know he really loves me, I really love him, his brother accidentally shot himself so there's a reason for his repressed anger, etc etc etc. And it all felt like a manipulation of the reader. And while I appreciate that this is likely written to represent all of the excuses that women in abusive relationships use for staying, it felt reckless and irresponsible to be written in this manner. It felt like it had been set up for the reader to want to root more for the "love" this couple had for each other than to want her to leave. The only redemption of this book is that if fulfills the title and Lily does leave her marriage with her child to protect their daughter (sorry, spoiler alert). 

So if this is what Colleen Hoover is about, I think I'm good with stopping at just the one. Good for her for finding a niche that clearly is filling a need that many readers are enjoying, but it's just not for me. 

So it's back to the lists. Next up is The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Oddly enough, I have absolutely no idea what this book is about. So we'll find out!

"Everyone, Real or Invented, Deserves the Open Destiny of Life."

I don't really know what to say about Enormous Changes at the Last Minute by Grace Paley. It was a collection of short stories first published in 1960. And I can easily say that I've never read an author who writes the way she does. Maybe a little reminiscent of Dorothy Parker, but blunt in a different kind of way. Not overly wordy or florid language, but sometimes a very honest kind of a gut punch.

All of the stories were largely about single mothers or young women in unhappy marriages, taking place in New York, including the recurrence of one character, Faith, which I guess Paley had used multiple times across many of her writings. There were very open descriptions of sex and sexual relationships which seemed quite avant garde to have been written in the 1950s by a woman. 

And while I have much appreciation and respect for the way Paley crafted the stories, oddly enough, this book is not going to be memorable for me at all. Even now, having finished it not that long ago, I can barely remember any of the actual storylines of any of the vignettes. So it's interesting to me that the way a writer writes can leave more of an impression on me than the stories themselves (and I certainly feel the same way about other writers too in the opposite sense). So overall while I appreciated the book, I probably wouldn't pick it up again or recommend it to others. Is that a bad thing? 

183 to go (I swear I feel like I've been at 183 for an eternity).  

"You Do Not Let Your Eyes See Nor Your Eyes Hear, and That Which is Outside Your Daily Life is Not of Account to You."

I don't know how I've gotten to 43 years of age and not actually seen a movie of or read the novel of Dracula. Sure, I know all of the stuff about vampires; all the cliches, all of the fascination, all of the other stories spawned from this one legend. And you guys: this book was amazing. Given that it was published in 1897 (more on that in a moment), it holds up. It's engaging, suspenseful (and expertly built), with just the right amount of foreshadowing. 

And considering how much focus over the years has landed on the actual character of Dracula, he's surprisingly not in the book all that much. Sure, he's a presence that continues to wreak havoc on a couple of the different female characters (and their male loves in consequence), but we don't see him in his body all that much. Mostly in the beginning when he has made a prisoner of Jonathan Harker, who has travelled to Romania to go over some legal paperwork with the Count himself. I don't want to think that I let my knowledge of Dracula affect my interpretations of what was presented in the novel, but the way he was written was as one cruel being. Sure, he was able to share exchanges of intellect with Jonathan while he was initially in Romania, but after that, he is ruthless and cruel. But his evasiveness and cunning made him even more dangerous. The character in the novel really is the embodiment of pure evil. 

So I know that it's not easy to want to delve into the classics. But this is one I would say DO IT. It holds up to today's standards and is still completely engaging. I was turning the pages at the end in complete suspense for how it was going to end (because, as I mentioned, I didn't actually know the full story). 

Next up is Enormous Changes at the Last Minute by Grace Paley. I don't think I knew that this was a collection of short stories - it was a random selection from my list of works by women writers. We'll see how she goes. 

184 to go. 

"Everyone Had Secret Corners and Alleys That No One Else Saw - What Mattered Were Your Major Streets and Boulevards, the Stuff That Showed Up On Other People's Maps of You."

I think that one of the words I would use to describe Harlem Shuffle is authentic. In every way the story was told, the historical accuracy feels like you are genuinely transported back to 1960s Harlem. From the descriptions of the community, the neighborhoods, the buildings, the characters; they're distinct, and provide a setting that gives the story a lot of grounding. The hustling, the petty crime, the political corruption, the real people living their lives. The time and setting felt as much of a main character as Ray Carney. 

Ray Carney is a furniture store owner who is looking to keep him and his family on the up and up. Trying to be a legit business owner. With a very small dose of looking the other way when dealing with low-level petty crime. If he knows that merchandise comes to him that may have fallen off the back of a truck, he doesn't get all righteous, but just moves it as needed. He stays below the radar of the cops while still being in touch with the ebb and flow of the neighborhood. However, he gets pulled into a robbery with his brother Freddie, and he spends the next few years tiptoeing around to keep himself on the right side of everyone he needs to be on the right side of. 

I haven't read any of Colson Whitehead's other works, but if this is where I start, I'm looking forward to reading more (I don't know why I didn't start with one of his Pulitzer winning works, but I guess that means things go up from an already enjoyable read). Sometimes you read authors whose writing is just so easy it makes you jealous. That's kind of how I felt about him. Would definitely recommend. 

Next up, back to the lists with Dracula by Bram Stoker. It seemed appropriate to start reading this 2 weeks before Halloween. Amusing side note: when I ordered the book online, I mistakenly chose the version of the book in Spanish. Anyone want to read Dracula en espanol?

Happy reading!

"We Always Seem Old in These Moments, But Not in a Dreary Way. It's Rather Like We're Celebrating Something That Was Hard-Earned. We Were Young Once, and Now We Have All This."

If you're a fan of David Sedaris, you will likely enjoy A Carnival of Snackery. It includes 18 years worth of his journal entries. They consist largely of observations and funny snippets of his extensive travels around the world (to his 4 homes in France, England, NYC, and North Carolina and so much traveling for book readings/signings). But also glimpses into his life when he's just at home between events. He collects jokes from people during his book signings and boy, does he share some gems! 

I've always been a fan of Sedaris since the early 2000s when I first heard him as a contributor on This American Life. It was before podcasts and before websites made so much audio content available, so you really had to catch the program on the radio to enjoy it. And I've of course loved all of his books that I've read. 

However, this one felt different to me. And I'll acknowledge that it's probably mostly a "me thing" and nothing to do with Sedaris as an author. I think maybe I'm just older than I was when I first discovered him, but somehow, reading journal entries back to back to back (and this was only reading a couple a day, mind you) left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth about Sedaris as a person. While he acknowledges his flaws and selfishness on many occasions, it just became a lot by the end. Vanity over his clothing, cynicism for other people's eccentricities, and annoyance at serious matters that inconvenience him. It came across as a crotchety boomer vibe. I appreciate his honesty about who he is, and I get that this is the crux of what makes him so successful as a writer. And many times, the snarky stuff is just used for a punch line to a piece. But I don't know, something about the format of it just being shorter pieces and the volume of them drove this all home over and over again, and I'm not going to lie, I was a bit glad to be done with it. Mostly because I didn't want to have my opinion of a writer who I love tarnished any further. I did enjoy it and I laughed out loud many times, but I recommend it with a bit of caution - it may grate on you by the end. 

Harlem Shuffle still in progress. Hopefully completed soon.   

"It Will Be, At Times, As If It Were Less Hardship to be Sleeping in the Graveyard of Your Native Land, to be Asleep Underneath the Stones That Cover Your Island in the Sea"

The biggest thing I appreciate about the books on my list of 100 great 20th century works of fiction by women is that I come across books that never in a million years would have crossed into my awareness. I get plenty of suggestions from Goodreads and from BookTok, but even then, so many of those novels are current day fiction that are pretty widely popular. So without this list, I never would have come across a gem like Away by Jane Urquhart. 

This book was just wonderful. It had elements of mysticism based in cultural folklore that was written as true that made the characters complicated, and distant, and unique. And it actually reminded me a little bit of the novel Tracks by Louise Erdrich that I also recently read and wrote about. But this time, as opposed to Native American folklore, it was Irish. And the connection of the Irish to the sea/rivers/lakes and to the land.

Mary is a young girl living on a small island in northern Ireland in the 1840s when one day a sailor (and a multitude of cabbages and teapots) from a nearby shipwreck wash ashore. Mary falls madly in love with the man who dies in her arms and from that moment on, is connected with the soul of the sea in inexplicable ways. She ends up marrying a pleasant enough schoolteacher and has children when the potato famine comes to devastate everyone on their island. She and her family emigrate to Canada to start a new life amid an entirely new set of hardships and isolation. Her children Liam and Eileen become the next generation to learn to live off the land and improve their lives, with Eileen carrying a bit of her mother's mystical ways. Grounding the story is Eileen's granddaughter, Esther, living in present day Canada, in the town where her ancestors settled, and still experiencing a bit of the curses that were wrought over time.

This story was so wonderfully told; it felt impossible but real at the same time. The language was rich and interesting. I feel like there are probably many immigrant stories out there and plenty of Irish fiction, but this felt so unique. Maybe I'm just finding that I like a historical fiction to not always be "just the facts ma'am" and have a little bit of something unexplainable to it. That's probably why I like Beloved so much too. I can see that maybe not everyone would have the same reaction as I did to this novel, but give it a shot and maybe you'll find that generational folklore can hold mysteries that are wonderful to read.

Next up is a pause in the book lists to read Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead. I've also been making my way through A Carnival of Snackery by David Sedaris (based on his journal entries from 2003 to 2020, I read a few every morning before I start working to give me a smile and a happier way to start the day). We'll see which one I finish first. 185 to go.  

"The World of Facts is Real, All Right, And Not to be Altered. The Physical is All There, and it Belongs to Science. But Then There is the Noumenal Department, and There We Create and Create and Create."

No lies, I kind of hated Henderson the Rain King. Actually, I didn't hate the book per se, as much as I despised the character of Gene Henderson. And while I can acknowledge that to evoke that kind of response in a reader usually means that the author is doing something right, that doesn't make my reading of the book any more enjoyable. 

He's all ego. Selfish, but self-aware of his selfishness. And while he tries to rectify this and makes (rather excessive) actions to no longer be this person, he continually falls back to being that man. He is oafish, petulant, foolish, and what I found to be incredibly annoying. If I knew this person in real life, I would run far away.

Henderson is a wealthy pig farmer and decorated war vet who is unhappy with his life. He yells at his wife, scares his children, then feels bad about it and tries to make amends (ummm...textbook abuser much??). He gets to the point where he can no longer fight the voices in his head yelling I want, I want, I want, when apparently what he wants is a different life and to seek "truth." So in his rich, narcissistic, white man way, he goes to Africa and journeys into the remotest unknown villages. 

He encounters a tribe that he is certain he can save, because you know, he's a white man savior who knows better than these poor souls, right? But he only manages to bungle things up and destroy their water cistern and make things even worse for them. He flees to the next village where he becomes a close confidant of the learned chief. Large portions of the book are these two men sharing their intellectual conversations and the chief using Henderson. He manipulates him to move a statue that the tribe believes will bring them rain (hence he becomes the rain king) and to help capture a lion who the chief believes is his father. After all is said and done, Henderson returns home and it sure doesn't seem like he has found the truth of life that he so desperately sought. He sure still seems like an obnoxious prick.

I mean, I get it. I get all of the symbolism and philosophical discussions about life and death, etc etc etc. But wrapped up around a despicable character made all of that kind of difficult to even care about. Not a huge fan of this one. Skip it is my vote.

Next up is Away by Jane Urquhart. Happy reading! 

186 to go.    

"What Really Interests Me Is How Two Such Unlike Particles Clung Together, And Under What Strains, Rolling Downhill Into Their Future Until They Reached The Angle Of Repose Where I Knew Them."

Much of what I knew about Angle of Repose was that it was a quintessential story of settling the American West. But I found it kind of fascinating that it was written from the perspective of a woman. An educated, cultured woman at that. I feel like a lot of westerns are cowboy stories. Men fighting men, fighting for land, stealing from each other, and men then fighting men, full circle. 

But not much about this novel falls into that bucket. Lyman Ward is a retired history professor and a divorced amputee who is writing the biography of his grandparents, Susan and Oliver Ward, and trying to find some semblance of self-recognition or identity in uncovering their stories. And boy, do they have some fascinating stories. 

His grandmother Susan was an up-and-coming artist from a fairly well-connected family in New York. And while it was expected of her to marry and become part of society, the husband she chose is Oliver, a mining surveyor/engineer whose job takes him all over the newly developing American West. For the first few years, Susan is unable to join Oliver out in the field where he's working, and once she is finally able to, it couldn't be more of a culture shock for her. Barely passable roads, squalid living conditions, and almost no other women to be found. But with her determined nature, she carves out a world that satisfies her, including sketching the exquisite scenery and life around her and forming close relationships with the other mining engineers and neighbors. But she still is a snob at heart and passes judgement on those who are "less cultured" (with a hearty dose of racism) in spite of everyone working with the bare minimum available to survive. There isn't always harmony between Susan and Oliver, and at one point Susan moves back East while Oliver struggles to make ends meet.  

The setting of Lyman who is pretty much a shut-in, writing her story while living in his grandparents' house, is a nice contrast to those who handle their isolation in very different ways. Lyman reluctantly accepts the assistance from his young neighbor who he develops a kindly, but stubborn friendship with. 

I thought this was a gorgeous novel and I can very much see why it won the Pulitzer Prize in 1972. The descriptions and story-telling brought it all to life with such rich visuals, you knew exactly who each of these characters were. But they were all still so complex and rich. And the terrain felt real and dangerous and wild and unsettled, while at the same time beautiful and expansive and amazing. It felt how I imagined the first American settlers of the West felt when the saw it - awed but overwhelmed. If you're looking for a western that isn't your basic shoot-em-up cowboy western, I would highly recommend this one. 

And on next to Henderson the Rain King by Saul Bellow. I know I read something by Saul Bell0w in high school, but looking at his list of works, I cannot for the life of me remember what I read. I'm pretty sure it's not Henderson the Rain King, but if I get partway through it and have a strong feeling of familiarity, then maybe I'll cut my losses early and move on. 

187 to go!   

"A Tiny Infusion Of Hope, Of Love And Care; A Reminder That There's Something On The Other Side Of This, A Whole World On The Other Side."

I generally don't choose to read fantasy novels. It's just not my jam. I have the utmost respect for fantasy and sci-fi writer, though. I am always amazed at the ability to create completely different worlds and creatures and everything that doesn't exist in our world. To pluck these things from pure imagination rather than adapting people as they are to a relatable story. I just do not have that bone of creativity in me and I have nothing but respect for those writers who do. 

But A Deadly Education was kind of an impulse pick at the bookstore. And as I started reading it, I didn't think I would enjoy it. There will of course be the obvious comparisons to Harry Potter, as the story is about a school for witches and wizards. But that's where the similarities end. While Harry Potter always had a bit of romanticism and whimsy to it (as far as the magically elements), this book is dark through and through. Every waking moment of the lives of the witches and wizards is consumed with not being murdered by evil magical creatures. They lurk in every corner of the world, every facet of the school (even in the lunch food), and every choice made in every moment of every day is about minimizing risk of encountering and being killed by some deadly creature. So yeah, a little more intense. 

And this central feature of the book gives it a constant intensity. I felt like I had anxiety while reading it because there was never a down moment. Not one single moment of relaxation. Which, man, what a terrible way to have to live. Of course the story also has the same trappings of kids in high school - cliques of popular and wealthy kids, nerds, crushes. But it didn't feel cliche or adolescent. The main character, Galadriel, an incredibly powerful dark witch, has to navigate her way through her days, managing classes, hiding her dark powers, and trying to sort out why the heroic boy in her class insists on continually saving her from monsters and trying to be her friend. 

I am surprised I enjoyed this book as much as I did. The world created was so unique and interesting and detailed enough to be so very believable. I enjoyed it so much that I actually bought the next book in the series because I wanted to find out what happens next...very uncharacteristic of me. I'll have to get to it soon, so I can make sure I remember all of the craziness that was contained in the first book. If you're looking for an interesting fantasy book, I'd give this one a recommendation. 

Next up, back to the lists with Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner. I can't tell you how many times I've thought that this was "Angel" instead of "Angle." It sounds like a sweeping novel about settling the west. Which is different than anything else I've picked up in a while, so I'm here for it.  

"All Idealisation Makes Life Poorer. To Beautify It Is To Take Away Its Character Of Complexity - It Is To Destroy It."

Confession: I have been way behind the eight ball this year as far as writing blog posts after finishing reading books. I've been trucking along reading at a fine clip, outpacing last year, but for some reason I have a block when it comes to finding the time to sit down and summarize the book and how I felt about it. As a result, I'm writing posts a couple months after I finish the book as opposed to right after I finish reading it and it's fresh in my mind. So most of the initial reaction, emotion, and even recollection is long gone by the time I get to writing it. 

This is exactly where I am right now with The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad. I finished it towards the end of June, and now it's slightly more than two months later. And while I can certainly remember the entire storyline, anything else I have to say about it is just meh. A secret agent in England who has infiltrated those believed to be acting, and potentially dangerous, anarchists (who are really all talk). Who is encouraged by his boss to do something destructive to be able to capture others. He arranges to have a bomb set off at the Greenwich Observatory that inadvertently kills his mentally challenged brother-in-law. Fallout with his wife from there.

And somehow that's really all I feel like I have to say about it. I didn't have much strong feeling about any of the characters. Or the writing. Or much else. It felt like a perfectly fine book. And maybe that was the point. That Verloc, the secret agent, was just mediocre at best. He spent his life as a middle of the road agent just doing his job which didn't yield much high-profile intelligence. And everything else about his life is mediocre as well - his family, his home, his interactions with others. If there was a book that made being a spy seem super duper boring, this is definitely the one. And again. Maybe that was the point. 

Coming up next, a short break from the list to read A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik. I randomly picked this book up at the bookstore with little to no idea what it is about. It seems like it's going to be very much outside my normal wheelhouse, but we shall see. 

188 to go.  

"I Was Lighter Because I Had Unburdened My Shoulders, And Heavier Because I Knew The Dreams Would Fall."

Sometimes (not always), I enjoy reading books that I don't entirely understand. Or that I somehow think aren't meant for me to fully grasp (I think I said something similar when I was discussing how I felt after reading Owls Do Cry). Normally I would say that I don't enjoy that because I walk away from my time spent laboring over a book only to not have "gotten it." But Tracks is one that felt mysterious and unexplainable in a good way. 

The novel is about a group of Native American families (either by blood or by bond) struggling to survive in North Dakota in 1914 as, inch by inch and plot by plot, they are being forced out of their lands and starving along the way. The unique characters all possess so much mystical foundation, rooted in their indigenous beliefs. But the way it is written, is so matter of fact, and accepted as true. Like, of course everyone knows about that demon that lives in the lake and who is tamed by one woman, Fleur. And the negative forces that Pauline embodies and shares with others. There are so many facets of the story that are bound up in Native American lore and belief that makes it one of the most unique novels I've read. There were passages I would read out loud because they felt so natural but not like anything that I could have comprehended. 

And I liked the fact that there were two different narrators to the book - Nanapush, the elder of the tribe (but a bit of a scoundrel) and Pauline, a young woman of mixed heritage who wants to be white-passing and joins a convent. Their tone, perspective, and access to the main events of the story were so different, that it gave you a fuller picture of the events from most sides.

I genuinely didn't want this book to be over when I finished it. And I will definitely be putting other novels by Louise Erdrich on my To Read list. It sounds like there are other books about the families in this one (this one giving backstory to some characters, even though it is the third in the series). 

Next up is The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad. 189 to go. 

"All I Do Is Complain, The Repugnance Seems Bottomless, And I'm Beginning To Wonder if Maybe Enough Isn't Enough"

If only the author hadn't taken his own character's advice. Because enough was enough very early on in this book.  

I loathed Portnoy's Complaint. Like, a lot. I had a hard time even finishing it because all it was, was a very self-aware man who loathes everything and knows that this comes from his overbearing Jewish mother and the sexual repression from his family and childhood (to which he becomes the exact opposite, the sluttiest man-whore you could craft). And it's really just constant complaining, about everything (so the title is very apt). And how every single thought, decision, motivation in his life is completely geared towards jerking off or fucking women. But in every instance, he is never satisfied and continues to complain about it. Even when he finds the kinkiest, craziest, best lay he could ever dream of, even she isn't enough. And he sabotages everything and treats her like shit. That's fine that he doesn't want to marry her because he doesn't want to repeat the way he was raised, and yes, she is a little crazy herself, but he has so much contempt for this woman who is clearly the closest thing he'll ever get to being satisfied. And maybe that's the point. 

And all of the descriptions of the book describe it as being this hilarious novel. There were some bits here and there where I didn't mind his sarcasm and I can appreciate how this "humor" was intended to make the character relatable and funny, in spite of his neuroses. But I just didn't identify with the humor. Maybe when this novel came out in the 1960s it felt revolutionary for it's (male) approach to sexuality, but I personally don't think it aged well. And if any man tells you this is his favorite book, run. 

So yeah, definitely wouldn't recommend this unless you want to spend 274 pages being infuriated. 

Next up is Tracks by Louise Erdrich. 190 books to go.  

"She Knows Full Well What It's Like To Tamp Down Your Natural Inclinations, To Force A Smile When You Feel Numb. After A While You Don't Know What Your Own Needs Are Anymore. You're Grateful For The Slightest Hint Of Kindness, And Then, As You Get Older, Suspicious."

It continues to amaze me that there are any number of things that happened in this country's history that I have never learned about. Or more accurately, that aren't taught in schools. And Orphan Train is a perfect example. Did you know that between 1854 and 1929, thousands of abandoned children were shuttled from the east coast to the midwest and west to be "adopted" by families? And the word "adopted" is clearly intentionally in quotes, because often farmers and struggling families would take on these children to function as hired hands and servants rather than adopted as a child they would take in and love (of course the babies would be the most desirable for couples who wanted a child...not so different from today, huh?). 

This novel tells the story of one Irish immigrant, Vivian, whose parents and siblings die in a fire in New York. At 9 years old, without a single person in the world (or at least in America) who had any interest in caring for her, she is shuttled off to the Children's Aid Society, who will transport and help place all of these orphans in homes out west. With no idea what her future holds, Vivian goes through multiple homes, being abused, used for labor, starved, and finally to a quiet, household with two "parents" who accept Vivan and teach her how to run their store. Told in parallel in modern day, is the story of Molly who herself has been bounced between many foster homes, mistreated, and bitter. As part of her court-ordered community service, she begins helping 91-year old Vivian as she cleans out her attic (although not much is discarded), reliving and retelling her childhood. And the two find they have a lot more in common with their lived experiences than Molly would have initially thought.  

This book so well captures the sense of loss, helplessness, abandonment, and fear that so many orphans face. I mean the quote used as the title of this post breaks my heart. Literally having no one in the entire world. As a child. To want to accept any kind of kindness only find heartbreak over and over again. And not understanding what you did wrong to suffer the way you do. There is a gut-wrench to this novel that, even now, makes me want to cry. I certainly enjoyed this novel and as I mentioned, it's a shame that events like this that marked eras of American history aren't more widely known. 

Back to the lists. Up next, Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth.  

"You Stop Grieving For The Past. You See That The Past Is Something In Your Mind Alone, That It Doesn't Exist In Real Life. You Trample On The Past, You Crush It. In The Beginning It Is Like Trampling On A Garden. In The End You Are Just Walking On Ground."

I really loved the quote in A Bend in the River that is the title of the post. It gave me pause and made me think. And it felt very accurate. Don't we all have our own version of "the past" in our heads? Things that are so crystal clear for us, that define who we are, that someone else may not remember at all. But do we assume that everyone remembers everything the way we do? And do we assume that everyone knows how those past moments have brought us to who and where we are? But I would guess that almost no one know that about us. That those are the most intimately familiar pieces of our identity that no one else understands. And we can try to share these experiences and express the impact, but no one will ever understand it in the same way. And while sometimes it feels sacrilegious to move on without treasuring our past, eventually it will all fade into the background with the exception of a highlight reel. 

I don't think that this was necessarily one of the key elements of the book, but it did strike me. A Bend in the River tells the story of Salim, a Muslim originally from a country on the east coast of Africa, with Indian roots. Following unrest in his hometown, he moves to an unnamed country on the interior of Africa, at a village at the bend of a river, to be a shopkeeper. The story relates his adjustments living here and the political turmoil that finds its way to the small village. It also describes the modernity that also finds its way to the small village (fast food restaurant! A university!) and the impact, both good and bad, that it has on Salim and his "friends" (although he never really acknowledges anyone as a friend...those he associates with are either fellow merchants, a woman he is having an affair with, a man who used to be his family's servant, and other expats like himself). He seems to keep his acceptance of this place as his home at arm's length, but the passage of time says otherwise. 

I'll admit I had a hard time getting into the book and overall, thought it was just ok. I know that this is often considered one of V.S. Naipaul's best works, and I don't disagree that it was well written and interesting, but maybe just not for me. 

Next up, a pause in the book lists to read a recommendation from my sister, Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline. 

191 to go. 

"And What Does It Mean, To Die? Perhaps Man Has A Hundred Senses, And When He Dies Only The Five Senses That We Know Perish With Him And The Other Ninety-Five Remain Alive."

A good friend of mine who is a professor of set design for a theatre department of a local university, and her partner, a Yale-drama educated technical director recently told me that while plays are fine to read, they really are intended to be witnessed on the stage. Which put me in a bit of a quandary, because on one of my lists, I have 9 (now 8) plays remaining to be read. On the one hand, it would delight me to be able to just see the play in person and check it off my list, having committed only a couple hours to its consumption. But on the other hand, it wouldn't feel like I was completing the task of my reading lists by not actually reading the material listed. I'm still at a crossroads of how to handle this, but for the time being, I have not crossed off Macbeth after having watched the recent Cohen Brothers adaptation of the play as a film. But I've also de-prioritized Macbeth for the time being as well knowing that it's gonna be a drudge of difficulty to get through. 

This was not the case, however, with The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov. 4 acts, less than 50 pages. No drudgery to be seen. The story takes place in the late 1800s/early 1900s in Russia where there is a palpable shift from wealthy aristocracy to the rise of the lower classes. Madame Ravensky no longer has the financial means, having squandered it away, to retain her family home and cherry orchard, so it is auctioned off. The family, neighbors, and servants, of all differing opinions on this circumstance, share in this moment. 

I would be curious (and will keep an eye out) to see if this play is performed very often. I think there are a couple other Chekov plays that would be a preferred option to do, but I wouldn't hate to see this live. Did it leave an indelible impression on me. Not really? Will I be able to remember any of the characters very long Russian names? Definitely not. But did I enjoy it? Yes. 

Up next, A Bend in the River by V.S. Naipaul. Naipaul won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2001. A Bend in the River was one of his later novels, so I'm intrigued to have another novel set in Africa on the docket (I've had 3 in the past year or so between The Heart of the Matter, Out of Africa, and Things Fall Apart). 

" 'Nothing But Vast Wisdom and Onlimited Power Should Dare To Sweep Off Men In Multitudes,' He Added; 'For It Is Only The One That Can Know The Necessity Of The Judgment; And What Is There Short Of The Other, That Can Replace The Creatures Of The Lord?' "

The Last of the Mohicans was far more engaging than I expected it to be. Given that it was written in the 1820s, I fully expected the language to be difficult to get through. And yes, it was a bit dense, but not antiquated (which is always where I struggle with older books). But it was an exciting, frontier, beginning of the United States, adventure story. So it was a pleasant read. 

However, it isn't easy to read books like this through a different lens of history. With so much overt racism against Native Americans. And so much colonist-as-rightful-conqueror mindset. And the continuous description of Native Americans as savages, even though white settlers proved themselves to be the more vicious and destructive of the races. 

But taking it with a grain of salt, it was a perfectly fine novel. The storyline was engaging, heroes and villains, damsels in distress, daring rescue attempts. I did enjoy it. 

Confession: I've been lagging behind in writing up my blog post summaries immediately after I finish the book. So it has been a few months since I actually finished The Last of the Mohicans, and clearly, the quality and detail of my post about it suffers as a result. But I'm attempting to get caught up and hopefully the rest won't be as woefully inadequate. Here's hoping. 

"Each Morning Comes Along And You Assume It Will Be Similar Enough To The Previous One - That You Will Be Safe, That Your Family Will Be Alive, That You Will Be Together, That Life Will Remain Mostly As It Was. Then A Moment Arrives And Everything Changes."

It's not that often that a book really really blows my mind, but Cloud Cuckoo Land knocked my socks off. It's the kind of book that I will re-read. The kind of book that I will miss the experience of reading for the first time through. The kind of book that makes me crave excellent writing and so outside-the-box storylines. The kind of book where stories are woven together in such a remarkable way. I crave more books like this. 

The book tells three different stories set in three different time periods: Anna and Omeir in 1453 during the siege and eventually capture of Constantinople by the Ottoman Empire (Anna, a poor orphan who embroiders vestments for priests with her sister but dreams of flying and learns to read, a big no-no for women; Omeir, a boy with a cleft lip, believed to be a demon by small-minded peasants, and lives in the country with his family and his two remarkably strong oxen), Zeno and Seymour in current day Idaho (Zeno, a Korean war vet and librarian who has translated an important ancient Greek text; Seymour, a boy/teenager on the spectrum with a sensory disorder who finds peace in the woods near his home and the rare owl he sees only to have it all taken away by developers), and Konstance in an undefined date in the future (living on a spaceship called the Argos after the climate destruction of earth, bound for a new, Earth-similar planet). So even just those descriptions have you saying "WTF," right?? 

The stories are woven together so beautifully, in particular, based on the Greek story of Aethon, a donkey who wants to rise above his station in life, written by Antonius Diogenes. Anna is saving the already degraded scrolls of the story before the city is destroyed, the story comes to Zeno after hundreds of years for translation, and the story becomes important to Konstance, having been told the story by her father, but finding out that his knowledge/history with the story unlocks some critical information for her. 

And it's not just how this story links the three timelines together, but what the story is about and how it reflects the desires of all of the characters - just like Aethon the donkey, wanting to fly above the world to somewhere different than they are, but maybe discovering that where they are isn't all that terrible in the end. 

I feel like I'm not even remotely giving this novel justice. It was all parts beautiful, suspenseful, heart-breaking, and with at least one surprise that I was NOT prepared for. You will not regret reading this book - I'm going to become that person who shoves this book down everyone's throat because I loved it that much and I want them to love it too. 

Next up, back to the lists with The Last of the Mohicans. Never seen the movie and don't really have a good sense what it is about other than Native Americans.

By the way, have I mentioned that you should go out and read Cloud Cuckoo Land? Because you should. I'll probably mention it again. And again.  

"And Each Time They Made Their Way And The World Had Dropped Them For A While To A Peaceful Hiding Place, It Would Again Seize Them With A Burning One Of Its Million Hands, And The Struggle Would Begin Again and Again And Go On And On And Never Finish."

Ok, so I ready Owls Do Cry all the way through. Beginning to end. And I was engaged. And it was a great book. But I felt like it was one that I didn't quite understand. One that would have benefitted from discussing with someone else while I was reading it or discussing during a literature class or something. Because the language and descriptions felt so veiled and complex. Like it was a secret way of communicating that I wasn't a part of (like poetry that I don't get). And I'm not referring to just the section of the book that was told from the perspective of Daphne who was institutionalized, presumably with schizophrenia or some other form of mental disorder. That section was particularly difficult for me, but I still fully understand the intent and the disjointedness of the state of mind related to the disjointedness of the writing. 

Owls Do Cry tells the story of the Withers family and their 4 children, Francie, Toby, Chicks, and Daphne who grew up poor in a small town in New Zealand in the 19402. The children spend their free time in the town dump where other peoples' discards are their treasures. There is so much heart to the coming-of-age parts of the early section of the novel, and how the kids navigate growing independence, needing to support their family, and their place in the community. In a freak accident at the dump, Francie tumbles into the garbage fire and loses her life. The second portion of the book takes place 20 years later as the remaining 3 children have tried to exist after this devastating experience as well as the difficulties of their upbringing. Daphne in particular is institutionalized for mental illness and again, while this section was difficult for me to understand all of the intended nuances, there were some wonderful nuggets of insight about the circumstances she found herself in. 

Would I say it's one of my favorite books I've ever read? Probably not. But I acknowledge and respect the way in which it was told. Each child's voice and perspective are all very individual and all have such different reactions and paths to the challenges they experienced when they were younger, it's hard not to read it and feel some kind of way.

Next up, I'm taking a pause in the lists to read Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr. I haven't read All the Light We Cannot See, but I'll probably have to add that to my (continually expanding) list. I got sucked into the 50% off hardcover sale at Barnes and Nobel just after Christmas and went a little crazy with some gift cards. Looking forward to this one. 

194 to go.   

"No One But Yourself Bothers To Make A Collection Of Disasters. For The Time Being You Are The Hero Or The Villain Of The Thing That Is Uppermost In The Minds Of Your Friends And Acquaintances."

When I was only a short way through Appointment in Samarra, I was quite puzzled about why this book hasn't risen to the level of literary hype as The Great Gatsby. It has many of the same elements and has a very similar feel to the book. And while I haven't read The Great Gatsby in a long time, I felt myself already gravitating to this book more. Steeped in the wealthy, young adults of the 1920s, fueled with odious amounts of bootlegged liquor, there was almost a dark, cynical side to the characters motives and actions. But it all felt like a less romanticized version of elites in the 1920s and had a more modern feel (especially with regards to the portrayal of the women...they were much more interested in sex and this was written about so frankly, it felt pretty surprising. And I wonder if it was a bit shocking for the time).

Appointment in Samarra tells the story of Julian English and his wife Caroline, who attend an elite social event at their club just before Christmas in the small town of Gibbsville, Pennsylvania. And in a somewhat irrational moment of annoyance and ennui, Julian throws a drink in the face of a fellow club-member, Harry Reid. From there, he spends the remainder of the book attempting to make amends to Harry, his wife, his family, and their friends, and when it is not well-received, Julian doubles-down on his bad behavior, bringing about his own self-destruction.

It has all of the elements of a lush novel detailing the lives of the wealthy socialites of this time period: descriptions of particular social norms around party hostessing and marrying well, SO much talk about new automobiles (I mean, part of this is because Julian owns a car dealership, but so much space devoted to every detail about cars), gangsters, liquor, etc. It grounded the setting of the book and made it very visual and distinct. And made Julian's actions, particularly in the end, feel much more reasonable - all of the social climbing, and money, and infidelity very much drove his (and all of the characters') behavior. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this book, and even now thinking about it a bit later, it feels like the kind of book I would very much want to pick up and read again. 

Up next, Owls Do Cry by Janet Frame. I have zero idea what this book is about which makes it an interesting surprise! 

195 to go.    

"God Was Everywhere, Terrible, The Living God; And So High, The Song Said, You Couldn't Get Over Him; So Low You Couldn't Get Under Him; So Wide You Couldn't Get Around Him; But Must Come In At The Door."

We watched I Am Not Your Negro on Netflix not that long ago, which is a documentary/essay of sorts based on an unfinished book by James Baldwin about race relations. I enjoyed it very much and remember looking forward to reading Go Tell It on the Mountain, which is included on two of my reading lists, to see how Baldwin's visual words that I had seen spoken would translate to the written word. And within the first few pages it was evident that Baldwin had a remarkable way of communicating large concepts in a lovely, interesting, and dynamic way. 

Go Tell It on the Mountain is based on Baldwin's youth growing up in Harlem with his stepfather who was a preacher and abusive to his wife and children. The character in the novel, John Grimes, turns 14 years old and attends a evening prayer service at his stepfather's parish where he experiences salvation, traveling to the depths of his own sin to climb up the mountain, determined to live thenceforth for Jesus. A large majority of the book is spent recounting the histories of his stepfather, mother, and aunt and how their journeys led them to where and who they are and, pervasive throughout every moment, is their relationship with God and their faith. 

It was surprising to me how much of the book was about the virtues of God and religion. In fact, there isn't that much activity/action that occurs throughout the course of the novel. The vast majority of it details the sermons, the struggle, the salvation, the way life should be led in the path of God. And it wasn't in an ironic way. It didn't seem to be critical of it. But the character of John struggles so mightily with trying to live with faith but that is in conflict with his own intelligence and trying to fight against the pervasiveness of sin that is in every single fragment of the world. And John struggles with despising his stepfather for his physical abuse on the one hand, and trying to love God (and his stepfather) on the other hand. I guess I found it surprising that John eventually is "saved" and moves forward choosing to follow in the path of his stepfather and mother, and embrace Jesus, knowing that Baldwin was ultimately not a religious person. So it's interesting to me that Baldwin wrote the book later in life and didn't eschew religion, but had his character of John embrace it. That the book wasn't written through the lens of someone who no longer embraced the faith that the character so strongly ascribes to.

Next up is Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara. In reading the first couple chapters already, it already feels like it's going to feel a lot like The Great Gatsby but with a bit of a more sardonic feel. 

2021 ended up being quite a banner year for me for reading. I don't know what crawled up my ass and had me reading as much as I did, but I read more books this year than I can ever remember (a total of 20 books). I think part of it was joining Goodreads, which provides me with a great amount of satisfaction to see and track the accomplishment of finishing books. But mostly I just found a lot of joy this year from reading good stories. And not all of them were always great. But I read enough really great ones to make me want to continue to seek out things that move me. So on to 2022 where I'm sure I'll continue on this trend. Because I have a giant stack of "to read" books on my bookshelf and a lot of motivation to keep enjoying excellent stories. 

196 to go.