"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.