Guilt and Innocence: A daily primer

Summer Reading

I'm well behind in sharing whatever I've been reading, due to my blogging hiatus this summer, so you all know what that means. Yes, that's right, you get to hear about all the books I've read all at once. Of course this also means I'll abridge my thoughts about them to just a few sentences. Also, these may or may not be in the order I read them. I'm not so sure what I read anymore.

Book #19: How We Believe by Michael Shermer

This was a very interesting investigation into why people believe. There was some really cool quote about the nature of the universe in it, but of course I've forgotten it. My one gripe with this book is that despite Shermer's claims that he was being impartial, his bias against belief tended to shine through.

Book #20: The Wonder Spot by Michelle Bank

Take The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing change some character and place names, and you have The Wonder Spot. And even knowing this, I still liked this book.

Book #21: Gun with Occasional Music by Johnathan Lethem

All you need to know is: Kangaroo assassin. Good. Weird, but good.

Book #22: Swink #2

Okay, so this isn't so much of a book as a literary magazine, but it's an absolutely amazing literary magazine, which means it has to count for something.

Book #23: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

I don't think anyone has heard of these Harry Potter books, but they're pretty good.

Book #24: The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

I really wasn't expecting too much from this book, but it turned out to be a good read. I think Margaret Atwood is the only writer who can make the life of society women dramatic.

Book #25: What's the Matter with Kansas? by Thomas Frank

Honestly, I just thought it was ironic to read this while enduring the drive through Kansas. It was kind of a disappointment, and by the end of the book, I was only convinced that there is something wrong with our political system in general.

And sadly, that's all the reading I managed to squeeze in this summer.

Wild Dreams

I just found the most ineresting (and expensive) collection on Amazon.

The next time I have eight thousand to blow... Do you think I could fit them all in one dorm room?

Book #18: Steppenwolf

I enjoyed everything about Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse, except for the perpetual nagging thought that Hesse's writing style reminded me very distinctly of some other author, who I have yet to recall. Actually, even though I believe I finished this book over two weeks ago (I've been a bit behind on updating the blog this summer, if you haven't noticed), I'm still bothered by the phantom style similarities.

Steppenwolf is the story of Henry Haller, who is rather miserable with life, because out what he perceives as a struggle between the wolf and the man in him. (Hence the title Steppenwolf, a steppenwolf being a wolf of the Steppes.) Henry meets a wonderful women named Hermine, who teaches him how to enjoy the frivolities of life, and drags him out of an intellectual stupor. And then the whole experience basically descends into madness. Now who can resist a book like that?

Truly, I enjoyed this book, and I identified, almost unnervingly so with Henry, but this makes me feel a bit superficial. As in the new introduction Hesse wrote for the edition I read, he mentions that he felt that young people who read the novel identify with it for all the wrong reasons and tend to miss his point entirely. So maybe I missed Hesse's point, but it's a good read anyway.

A Tour of New York Guided by Books

The New York Times Book Review has published online A Literary Map of Manhattan which features "where imaginary New Yorkers lived, worked, played, drank, walked, and looked at ducks."

I've actually read quite a few of the books on here at one point of another. I only wish this had been published a couple years earlier so I could've made use of it when I visited New York. Still, it's fun to play around with.

Book #17: The Time Traveler's Wife

The Time Traveler's Wife By Audrey Niffenegger gives The God of Small Things quite some competition for my favorite book read so far this year. Of course, The Time Traveler's Wife is a completely different sort of book.

The story centers around a relationship between a young woman, Clare, and a usually young man, Henry. Of course, the catch is that henry time travels against his will, a condition Niffenegger has dubbed "chrono-impaired". So the first time Clare meets Henry, she's about six and Henry is an old man who has just shown up in the fields surrounding her house without any clothes on. Sound complicated enough, yet?

Despite the weird, half science-fiction, half romance plot, this novel is brilliant. It's alternately narrated by Clare and Henry, a technique that usually annoys the hell out of me in books, but works wonderfully here. The plot is one of the unusual ones that breaks your heart but still leaves you hopeful. Really, Niffenegger just does an outstanding job and I'd recommend this book to everyone.

Of course, I still need to convince a male friend to read this so I can decide if the appeal is equal to both genders, because while I think the romantic plot is a universal one, I can sometimes give in to girlish romanticism.

Chuckapalooza!

While I may be one of the few people who care, Chuck Palahniuk has been popping up all over the media recently, and I just can't pass on Chuck coverage. First, Chuck has an interesting essay in the Guardian entitled Slaves and saviours about One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest:

I just didn't recognise how this is everyone's story, in a two-party democracy. Even now, especially now, in America where an almost equal number of people must follow the will of their peers. No matter how democracy holds them responsible for their government, no matter how much they protest, the minority is still the minority. Saviours or slaves.

Harper's published Ready-Made Rebellion, an essay on transgressive fiction that uses Survivor as an example:

The first-person narrator of Chuck Palahniuk’s novel Survivor, by contrast, succumbs to the trope of numbness, to the belief that an undefined existential boredom is sufficient motivation for even the most extreme behavior.

Finally, watch the New York Times critic tear Haunted to shreds in Gore Values:

The curious weakness of Palahniuk's neo-brutalist aesthetic is how hermetically sealed it must remain from anything that might challenge it: the air of hard-core debauch must be wall to wall or else crumble to nothing. Palahniuk's work has a tone of snarling X-rated confrontation, but reading his stuff is uncannily like being buttonholed by your younger brother and led up to his bedroom so he can show off his book of Weegee photographs. Palahniuk's work feels raw but insular, angry but self-coddling, like a teenager's moods. The single most horrifying fact about ''Haunted,'' though, is that his publishers have called it ''a novel,'' which turns out to be a cunning euphemism for ''a collection of short stories.'' The stories all follow much the same course. Palahniuk digs up some disgusting factoid; he devises a narrator to deliver the disgusting factoid; and then sits back to watch him or her deliver it. End of story.

In case the Times review hasn't convinced you that my taste in fiction is horrible, Yankee Pot Roast offers the satire piece Chuck Palahniuk Mows the Lawn:

Imagine vacuuming. Now, imagine the vacuum weighs 350 pounds. Now, imagine this 350-pound vacuum has a rotating blade that can take off a man’s hand. Imagine that it does, only sometimes it’s not a hand. Sometimes it’s a leg. Sometimes it’s something worse.

I swear he's just misunderstood.

Oh, and as a side note, The Cult, the official Chuck Palahniuk website is offering free content for the month of June. You know, in case my incessant mentioning of Chuck Palahniuk has convinced you that Chuck is a god. Because he is.

Book #16: The Weight of All Things

I'm going to spare you the details of this book because The Weight of All Things by Sandra Benitez is bad. Horrifically bad. It's poorly written and the setting is described poorly. And it includes some frivolous, bad lessons in Spanish on top of that. Despite  the blurbs on the back this book does not make me feel like I've been transported to another country and nor does it make me feel for the humanity trapped in war. If that's what you're looking for, read For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hemingway instead. It serves to illustrate the evils of warfare brillantly, and it's much better written than this drivel. The only reason to read this book is if you're stuck proctoring for four hours, as I was,  and there really isn't anything better to do.

Of course, I feel somewhat bad for judging this book so harshly as it was a graduation present from a friend, but I just don't like it. However, I read it, and so it counts towards my goal of fifty books this year.

And my life flashes before my eyes...

From the NY Times story, When Death Means the Loss of an Archive:

Joe Nash's vast archive on black dance in America made him a leading figure in the dance world. It also may have helped kill him.

Last Thanksgiving, he stumbled over a pile of materials in his packed apartment in a West Harlem housing project. As he fell, he clutched at a stack of books, which tumbled down on him, according to Rashidah Ismaili AbuBakr, a friend who took care of him. Mr. Nash, a lecturer and essayist whose flowing African robes made him a familiar figure at dance events in New York, lay on the floor for five days, until friends heard his cry for help, she said. "Every single room was storage - his bathroom, his bedroom," Ms. AbuBakr said. "He just had enough space to lay down."

Mr. Nash never recovered from the fall, friends said; he died on April 13 at 85 of cardiovascular problems.

Anyone want to take bets on how likely it is that that's how I end up killing myself? I mean, I'm already well on my way to filling my entire living space with books, and I'm only eighteen. This man was eighty-five! Just imagine what I can collect in sixty-five years. (Article from Bookslut.)

Book #15: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

This was a cute, quirky fun quick read. The story is unusual because it's written from the point of view of a fifteen year old autistic boy. However, the novel is definitely well done and I would recommend it to anyone, of any age, because the story is well-written and highly accessible, but that's not why I like this book.

I like this book, because it is written from the point of view of an autistic child and I have an unabashed interest in bizarre neurological disorders that result in some sort of weird talent. (In this case, it's math skills.) While, autism isn't quit synesthesia, I still think it's utterly fascinating to read about, so I liked the book even more.

Anyway, I think this is a good summer pool-side read, if any of you are in the market for such a book.

Book #14: Haunted

As anyone who knows me is aware, anything I write about a Chuck Palahniuk book is going to be horribly biased, because the man is essentially my hero, he sends me crazy packages for Valentine's day (sort of) and I went and bought this book the day it was released after waiting anxiously for something like a year.

Getting those details out of the way, I still really liked Haunted. It's not one of his best books, by any means, and from a purely critical stand point, it's probably not a very good book at all, but despite it's unnecessary gruesome details and completely absurd plot-lines, I liked it.

The book is a sort of modern day Canterburry Tales, only much less excruciating to read. The characters of the novel have signed up to attend a three-moth writer's retreat: no distractions, no unnecessary interactions, just the time they need to complete the masterpiece of their lives. Then in good Palahniuk fashion, everything goes horribly wrong and descends into self-mutilation and some good old-fashioned cannibalism. Now, if that were the novel, I would have hated it, and perhaps had to reconsider Chuck's highly-valued position as my favorite author, but that's not what makes up the novel.

What makes Haunted worth reading are the seemingly unrelated stories that each character tells. I loved reading those, and they make the ridiculous envelope plot tolerable, and they make Haunted a good book. After all, how can you call a book where the first story has been responsible for multiple faintings a bad book?

Oh, but one thing: Chuck Palahniuk is not a poet. The "poems" he uses to describe each character still sound like his fiction. Whatever editor let him leave those in, wasn't doing a very good job of things.

A Modern Day Hitchhiker's Guide

A Slate article notes the paralells between Wikipedia and  The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

It's too bad Douglas Adams wasn't able to see his vision brought to life. I don't mean the so-so movie version of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I'm talking about Wikipedia, the Web's own don't-panic guide to everything.

The parallels between The Hitchhiker's Guide (as found in Adams' original BBC radio series and novels) and Wikipedia are so striking, it's a wonder that the author's rabid fans don't think he invented time travel. Since its editor was perennially out to lunch, the Guide was amended "by any passing stranger who happened to wander into the empty offices on an afternoon and saw something worth doing." This anonymous group effort ends up outselling Encyclopedia Galactica even though "it has many omissions and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate."

The article goes on to offer some criticism on the Wiki form of things, most of which I think is fair. I'm not a huge user of Wikipedia, but I do think it's nice to have that ever-expanding, if somewhat unreliable knowledge base.

Book #13: The God of Small Things

Usually, I have to finish a book for humanities that post that follows is something along the lines of, "Well, don't read that unless you have to," or "That was pretty good for a humanities book," but in the case of The God of Small Things  by Arundhati Roy, these rules do not apply.

I think this book may be one of my favorites. The language is dense, beautiful and the story is heartbreaking. Time in Roy's novel shifts backwards and forwards, and it's not the easiest book to read, but it is enjoyable once you get the hang of things.

Roy deals with the caste system in India and the unfairness of it by showcasing the effects a relationship between an untouchable and a member of an upper caste has on their surrounding family. Sadly, the ultimate result is tragedy, but the way Roy describes everything made me want to start the book over the second I finished it.

I think the real tragedy of The God of Small Things  is that Roy said she believed it was the only novel she had in her, so I can't even delude myself into waiting for a second novel. I can however tell you three lessons you will learn from reading it:

    [a] Anything can happen to anyone
    [b] It's best to be prepared
    [c] A boat

Bookstore or Grocery Store?

The NY Times discusses the new trend of grocery stores putting a greater emphasis on selling books: Attention, Shoppers: Sale on Fresh Books in Aisle 3.

Bookstore owners complain that grocery stores, like warehouse clubs, are killing bookstores and possibly the book business, too. By focusing almost exclusively on best sellers, grocers do not support the thousands of lesser authors whose books are carried at independent and chain bookstores, the critics say. Nor do supermarkets carry large selections of older books, or the backlist, which for most publishers is the most profitable portion of their business and which often supports their publishing of newer, less-known authors.

Allow mw a miserable, book-loving, channeling-Jon-Stewart moment: Stop killing books! You're hurting books for everyone! Put down the Dan Brown, please, for just one second. Just one second! and read something written by someone who can write.

Okay, now go back to your goddamned chick lit.

An Alternate Universe of Doom

Steve Johnson offers a terrifying picture of what popular culture could have been:

"Imagine an alternate world identical to ours save one techno-historical change: videogames were invented and popularized before books. In this parallel universe, kids have been playing games for centuries—and then these page-bound texts come along and suddenly they’re all the rage. What would the teachers, and the parents, and the cultural authorities have to say about this frenzy of reading? I suspect it would sound something like this:

Reading books chronically under-stimulates the senses. Unlike the longstanding tradition of gameplaying—which engages the child in a vivid, three-dimensional world filled with moving images and musical soundscapes, navigated and controlled with complex muscular movements—books are simply a barren string of words on the page. Only a small portion of the brain devoted to processing written language is activated during reading, while games engage the full range of the sensory and motor cortices.

Books are also tragically isolating. While games have for many years engaged the young in complex social relationships with their peers, building and exploring worlds together, books force the child to sequester him or herself in a quiet space, shut off from interaction with other children. These new 'libraries' that have arisen in recent years to facilitate reading activities are a frightening sight: dozens of young children, normally so vivacious and socially interactive, sitting alone in cubicles, reading silently, oblivious to their peers.

Many children enjoy reading books, of course, and no doubt some of the flights of fancy conveyed by reading have their escapist merits. But for a sizable percentage of the population, books are downright discriminatory. The reading craze of recent years cruelly taunts the 10 million Americans who suffer from dyslexia—a condition didn’t even exist as a condition until printed text came along to stigmatize its sufferers.

But perhaps the most dangerous property of these books is the fact that they follow a fixed linear path. You can't control their narratives in any fashion—you simply sit back and have the story dictated to you. For those of us raised on interactive narratives, this property may seem astonishing. Why would anyone want to embark on an adventure utterly choreographed by another person? But today’s generation embarks on such adventures millions of times a day. This risks instilling a general passivity in our children, making them feel as though they’re powerless to change their circumstances. Reading is not an active, participatory process; it’s a submissive one. The book readers of the younger generation are learning to 'follow the plot' instead of learning to lead."

In that world, I would be a crazy sociopath child. And sad. Very sad. (Originally seen on Kottke.)

Book #12: Nonrequired Reading 2004

Maybe it's because I've grown more discerning in my tastes in books, or that I've simply been reading too much so all books are starting to sound the same, but I'm finding myself disappointed by books more often than not. However, no matter how many books I read each year, I know that there will be at least one I love, and it's the America's Best Nonrequired Reading for that year.

This is the third year that the book has been published, and the third time I've bought it. They're edited by Dave Eggers, which may add to their appeal and quality, and are the best selections of reading anywhere. On top of that, they generally encompass all genres: Non-fiction, fiction, and have even as of late included some graphical stories, as well as authors from the well-known to the virtually unheard of.

I love this series to pieces and think everyone should run out and buy all of them right this instant. But I suppose that would take a little bit of integrity out of the title "Nonrequired," wouldn't it?

Columns, Laziness, and Books.

I've had this problem recently, where, since  I can't find a good news event, I've been trying to write about things that bother me in a more general sense.

However, I invariably end up not having enough to say about one aspect of something, so I try to write about two, and then end up not saying much of anything at all. This column is another example of that, I think.

Textbooks, lazy readers threaten good books.

Even humanities students would find this a little nerdy...

The University of Missouri has this program done through the Honors College here called the humanities sequence. It's four semesters of intense study of all the humanities at once: philosophy, literature, art, music, etc. and it also a who's-who of the nerdiest students at this fine state institution.

But I don't think you could convince even a humanities student that this sounds like a fun idea:

Work starts on Dickens theme park.

The book industry reaches a new low...

Some frat boy writes a book about a night of drinking 21 shots and now it seems he's planning on taking down the book industry with him.

In order to make the book more appealing to college-age readers, Iversen plans to release shot glasses and a clothing line based on the book. He is also working on a movie based on the novel.

Books should not be marketed like the latest B-list movie. Even the crappy romance imprints don't release merchandise to accompany their sub-par writing.

Book #11: The Book of Illusions

How is it that I will read five or six books in a row without really, truly liking any of them and all of a sudden I read two in a row that I really like?

The Book of Illusions by Paul Auster is a strange book in a few ways. It was definitely and enjoyable and quick read, but I can't for the life of me figure out why. The story itself doesn't sound so literary or engaging. A widowed man finds himself wrapped up in the life of a supposedly missing director of silent films. At best that plot sounds like a bad grocery store novel, but Auster's writing is amazing and surprisingly profound.

There's a quote on the back of the novel from The Wall Street Journal suggesting that Auster is perfecting his own literary genre. If this is the case I would suggest the genre be called something like literary biography. The book reads almost like a biography, but the story is pure fiction.

The final thing about Auster's writing that confounds me is the way he seems to have separated himself so clearly from his work. While reading The Book of Illusions it's easy to forget that you're reading a story or that the is a piece of fiction. The Book of Illusions is nice and immersive, a book that makes it easy to forget the rest of the world.

Book #10: How We Are Hungry

I actually bought How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers over winter break and have no excuse as to why I never got around to reading it until now, as I was really excited when it came out and Eggers happens to be just below Palahniuk and Coupland in the favorite authors category. However, I really started reading it as we were driving through Kansas and just devoured the whole thing.

A lot of the reviews I'd read of this book have mentioned that they thought Eggers was trying to hard to be literary and that most of the stories were just too self-conscious. And most of them, in their trite way, claimed that the book left them hungry. However, I think they're all bloody idiots.

I loved this book. Not all the stories are as engaging, and I'm not sure about the extremely short one or two page stories, but I Iove the spiritual-esque feeling that Eggers captures in most of the stories.

Also, the final story in the book, "After I was Thrown in the River and Before I Drowned," is just amazing. I'd actually read in before in Speaking to Angels, a compilation edited by Nick Hornby, but after reading it a second time, I was completely floored. That story alone makes this book completely worth buying this book.

I can't wait for Egger next work, and I hope he continues on his self-conscious,  too literary trend, because I like the direction his work is going, even if the critics don't.

Book #9: The Devil in the White City

I used to consider myself an almost exclusive purveyor of fiction books, and generally literary fiction at that, but recently I've discovered a certain liking for certain non-fiction books like The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson.

The Devil in the White City is the story of a man sometimes named Holmes who commits a string of murders during Chicago's Worlds Fair. I enjoyed the novel, but what seems a bit out of place, if not entirely unnecessary in the exhaustive detail into which Larson covers the planning, building, and execution of the fair. In fact, it's more accurate to say that there are two distinctive plots: the unraveling of Holmes murders and the saga of the planning and building of the fair. I didn't think much of the dual plot as I began the book, as I presumed that the two plots would become intertwined at some point during the book, but this isn't the case.

In some ways I have a difficult time understanding why Larson chose to portray the murders as he did. Holmes does not appear to have been particularly inspired by the fair, nor do his victims seem to be exclusively fairgoers. The fair merely seemed like a helpful coincidence. Furthermore, if one were to pick up the book and read the blurbs they would expect the book to be mostly about Holmes murders, but this isn't the case. The majority of the book is spent discussing the planning and orchestration of the fair, and while this is interesting, it's not necessarily integral to the book. As I was reading, I would find myself impatiently waiting for a chapter that actually concerned Holmes, as his story truly was the most compelling of the novel. (Thus, I can understand why the publishers would market the book so that this story appears to be the main and only focus.)

Then, to further complicate matters, Larson occasionally throws in another story considering the political assassin Patrick Predergast..

All of this is not to say that The Devil in the White City isn't an engaging non-fiction read, but simply that at times it seems that Larson is something of a historian afflicted with ADD. The result of this is that by the end of the novel I was still left wanting to know more about Holmes' string of murders, but perhaps that simply makes me macabre.

Despite what seems to me to be a lack of focus, The Devil in the White City is still a quick engaging read, and one that I think most people with a bit of inkling of curiosity can enjoy once they learn to expect the deviations from the main plot of the book.

Book #8: A Room of One's Own

And since, I couldn't sleep last night, after I finished Lullaby, I decided to start A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf, which is my next required book for Humanities. I had no intentions of finishing the book, even though it's a mere 115 pages, since it was about 2:30 a.m. when I started to read. However, by the time I started to feel a little bit sleepy, I was already on page eighty, so I decided to persevere and finish the whole book.

I think this is the first time in the history of humanities when I had a book finished before lecture. An amazing feat, if you ask me.

Of course, I think A Room of One's Own is quite possibly the most straight forward, easy to read book so far in the Humanities Sequence. Woolf's tone is conversational and there's no deep symbolism or philosophies to comprehend. Really, all Woolf is saying is that for women to be productive and to create they need a steady salary and a room of one's own.

Furthermore, I think I really enjoyed reading the novel. I was interested in what Woolf was saying and the style was so conversational that I absolutely breezed through the pages. I'm almost encouraged to start reading Mrs. Dalloway, which I have lying around here somewhere, but I think that A Room of One's Own has tricked me into thinking that all of Woolf's works must be easy reads.

Still, A Room of One's Own is definitely a quick, semi-intellectual read, if you're in the market for such a book.

Book #7: Lullaby

I've already read Lullaby (by Chuck Palahniuk, for those poor unaware souls out there before) but after getting that package from chuck I decided I needed to read more than just one story, so I started reading Lullaby again.

I think Lullaby is my second favorite of Chuck's books. I think I pick favorites from his books based on the themes. I like the themes of religion in Survivor and I think that's what makes it my favorite, and the themes relating to the power of words in Lullaby are what draws me to that book.

Regardless, I'd forgotten how easy it is to read Chuck's books. I pick one up and it seems almost as soon as I've started, I'm done again. Perhaps I should read more of them here, as it seems so hard to get any pleasure reading done when I have so much to read for classes.

An Interview with Jim Wallis of "God's Politics"

I'm aware I'm breaking some blogging rule about no more than one post involving religion a week or something, but I'm on a roll.

From Alternet: AlterNet: On God's Side, "Jim Wallis talks about 'God's Politics' and values – by which Wallis doesn't mean hate, greed, and war-mongering."

I can't remember if I first read about this book on Slate, or saw Wallis' interview on the Daily Show, but even though I have yet to read the book (I loathe purchasing hardcovers, even if I had the time for recreational reading), I am completely in awe of this man. He seems to have the most level headed, respectable, tempered idea of the ideal balance between faith and politics in public discourse.

Honestly, this man just seems to have the best ideas about both. I really can't wait to read this book.

Book #6: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Reading James Joyce is a curious experiment.

Although this is the second time in two years I have worked my way through the labyrinth of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and even though both of those times I read the book for class, I still find myself missing things. Someone will bring something up and my reaction is, "What? When did that happen?"

Perhaps, it's all a part of Joyce's evil plan to trap us all into eternally reading his books. The thing is, the first time I read Portrait, I hated it. I hated stream-of-conciousness and I hated Joyce's pompousness and Irishness.

However, this time in reading it, I felt like the book hated me. Joyce's style makes it feel like I'm being kept in the dark on an inside joke. The language is so dense that I can barely get a sense of what's going on. But, still, I think I liked the book.

Or, maybe, I would like the book if it would just let me in on its secret.

Score: Joyce: 2 Kim: 0.

The Texan in the Library

I like the fairy tale idea that the President is reading I am Charlotte Simmons.

Okay, maybe it's all one big public relations move, but seriously, just the idea that the president might be reading Wolfe's novel makes the next four years a little more bearable for me.

I mean, he may screw us over on every last piece of policy, but at least he can pick one good book.

Saying Farewell to Fear and Loathing: Hunter S. Thompson passes away at 65

For once, I didn't hear about this online. I was actually sitting down at lunch, yesterday, in my temporary state of grace before I check my e-mail for updates about the world, when Graft mentioned that some author died. I inquired further, only semi-curious, and he said, "Thompson or something, I think?"

"Hunter S. Thompson?" I asked.

Turns out I was right and a bit shocked.

Hunter S. Thompson, 65, Author, Commits Suicide

For one thing, he's not that old. He was only sixty-five and as of last year was still publishing articles. Furthermore, this is the first time an author's death really struck me. I remember being a little bit disappointed when Douglas Adams died a few years ago, but I suppose I wasn't expecting anything more from him.

When Arthur Miller died earlier this month, I was half-surprised to hear he was still alive.

The thing is, as far as the authors I'm familiar with, this is the first time I can recall being truly cognizant of one of them moving from the group of living authors I admire, to the ones who have passed away.

Furthermore, I think its clear that I admired Thompson's work more than some others. After all, the name of this blog itself came from a quote from The Great Shark Hunt. Thompson was so distinctive to me. He seemed to be one of the last individual voices.

The first thing I was reminded of was my sophomore year in High School when my friend Rob, who absolutely admired Thompson, came to school one weekend in an ecstatic glee after visiting Thompson's "fortified compound" in Aspen. "You guys," he yelled, "I got shot at by Hunter S. Thompson!"

In retrospect, the whole incident seems a bit sadder, now.

Why I Love Chuck Palahniuk

What was a hard, somewhat lonely Valentine's day has turned into one of the best in my memory, though admittedly this all occurred somewhat after the fact.

At some point today, Jessica told me there was a package slip in our mailbox with my name on it. However, since I wasn't expecting a package, I was in no hurry to run down and pick it up, so I figured I would just get it on the way back from dinner.

So, I go to pick up Mystery Package X and Alison, who was working at the desk at time jokingly remarks, "It's from Chuck Palahniuk." Only, I look down to the return address label to see that it is from Chuck Palahniuk. Of course, Alison thought is was a joke, since I had kept the fact that I had written him a letter in November rather quiet, as I felt like somewhat of a nerd.

Anyway, I brought the package upstairs and opened it to find a box filled with tinsel and the following things:
2 Unusually Shaped Erasers
1 Bouncy Ball
2 Miniature Snickers
1 Mini Whitman's Sampler
1 Package of Relighting Birthday Candles
1 Rubber Duck
1 Set of Mini Valentine's Stamps
1 Fake Vomit Novelty
1 Yellow Lamb Puppet (My Power Lamb, as it were)

And the two most important items:
A copy of Fight Club inscribed: "Relax and let the Lamb and Stones work for you," with a signed packet of sunflower seeds and a temporary tattoo stuck inside.
A handmade necklace with various semi-precious stones, as well as beads spelling out "To Kim Adams From Chucky P."

All of this was accompanied by a personalized letter, which explained the various healing properties of the stone in the necklace and included some encouragement. At the bottom of the letter was written, "Happy Valentine's Day."

In all truthfulness, I nearly cried. I know this is what Chuck does for everyone who writes him (or in this case everyone who wrote him during the month of November), but it still means a lot to know that even though there are thousands upon thousands of people who read his books and probably hundreds who write him letters, he will still devote the time to show them that they are appreciated.

I mean, I remember the first time I really fell in love with a book was when I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac, because I felt so sad at the time and that book seemed to illustrate for me that the world could be just as sad for someone else, that I wasn't alone.

However, reading Chuck's books, I got the same feeling, that there was someone else out there who understood the way I felt about things, but the difference between Kerouac's books and Chuck's, the difference that made Chuck my favorite author, is the way his books feel like a conversation. His books feel like sitting down to your closest friends telling you a story. They have that sort of intimacy. It's Chuck's books I want to share with the world, because even though they have their nihilistic, apocalyptic, atheistic moments, they're actually quite cozy reads. The stories are insane, the character more so, but the sentiment, the sentiment feels like home.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

The trailer for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is on Amazon.com, today.

I have to admit that I've been anxiously awaiting news about this movie. The Hitchhiker's Guide... has always been one of my favorite books and I was excited to see a movie adaptation. "Was" being the key word. After watching that trailer I'm extremely aprehensive. However, I will not give up hope. After all, John Malkovich has a role, and if anyone can save a movie, it's John Malkovich.

Book #5: Trainspotting

I was little apprehensive when I started to read Trainspotting because before beginning it all I had heard about the book was that no one could get through it because the Scottish dialect the book is written in made it completely unintelligible for most.

However, after maybe two or three pages, I was flying through the Scottish slang. Maybe  it's because I grew up in the Cajun south, one of the few places where one can still encounter a true dialect from time to time, but dialect in books just doesn't phase me. I flew through A Clockwork Orange, and I barely blink when I encounter passages written in dialects in other novels, so what is for many Trainspotting's major downfall didn't phase me one bit.

Having said that, I'm still not saying that Trainspotting lives up to its own hype. Its billed as this amazing novel that "deserves to sell more copies than the Bible," but I just don't see it. There are some moving moments and the book is by no means bad or unenjoyable, but it's not stunning either. It's another interesting escape into a world full of drugs I'll never experience firsthand, but not, for me at least, much more than that.

My recommendation, if dialect doesn't phase you, pick it up and give it read, but if dialect is something you have to struggle through, it's okay to pass this one by.

Book #4: Hard Times

Finally, I've finished Book #4, the Dickens' Classic Hard Times. Don't worry yourself if you haven't heard of it, I hadn't either. In addition to being Book #4 for the purposes of the 50 book challenge, Hard Times was also the first book I had to read for Modern Era, my humanities class. I think I'm off to a good start for that infamous book-a-week class.

I've always had somewhat of a dysfunctional relationship with Charles Dickens. I remember, when I was somewhere around the age of seven, I was determined to read Oliver Twist, but being only seven the book was completely impossible. I didn't encounter Dickens again until my eighth grade language arts class where, instead of getting to read A Tale of Two Cities like I wanted to, I was forced to endure Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Maybe that's where my incessant dislike of Austen began. Finally, I read a small bit of Great Expectations for my freshman English class in high school. I never finished it, though I can't say it was completely miserable.

Considering that tedious history, I was not exactly thrilled about having to face yet another Charles Dickens novel, but Hard Times turned out to be quite the surprise. While it took a few pages to get into, I ended up rather liking the novel. As books for humanities go, it was simple and straight forward and I liked the story, the implications, and the symbolism.

For a class, this one gets a thumbs up.

Book #3: Jesus' Son

I have finished book #3: Jesus' Son: Stories by Denis Johnson.

I think I mentioned already that this was yet another book with recommendations by Palhniuk himself. Originally, I was planning to say that, like Sarah this one fell a bit short of expectations, but the last story in the book made me take it all back.

Denis Johnson is an amazing writer. Amazing. The final story in this collection completely blew me away. Truthfully, I wish I had been reading a novel rather than short stories which is why initially I was disappointed. Every time I would get into a story it would end. Regardless, I recommend this whole-heartedly if only for the final story.

And now it's on to Transpotting and all its dialectical glory.

Book #2: Stupid White Men

Book #2: Stupid White Men by Michael Moore.

Please let me explain myself. I picked this book up at Costco because a friend had mentioned how bad it was and I was curious. I wondered what a book by Michael Moore would be like. And I payed dearly for my choice.

I am sorry for reading this. Sorry for wasting two hours on it. Sorry for the brain cells I lost. Sorry for the Progressive causes Moore drastically misrepresents. Sorry for the conservatives who believe that this is the voice of the liberal majority.

Some conservative wrote a book in response to this one called Michael Moore is a Stupid White Man and while I can't say I agree with that book, I agree with the title whole-heartedly.

This book drove me up a wall. Sometimes I'd agree with the points he was making but he would have to worst, possibly comic solutions and I just wanted to scream. The book was too comedic to be take serious and too serious to be funny. It just fails on all accounts. And please, for those conservatives who may have read this, this is not how a majority of liberals feel. Or if it is I need a new party.

I actually fairly enjoyed Moore's films. Sure they had their problems, but they were okay. However, after reading this book I refuse to see another one. Ever. I refuse to give this maniac another penny.

Don't read this. Don't buy this. Don't even look in its direction. If you absolutely must read it to experience the idiocy for yourself, please don't buy it and give Moore any more royalties. I'll give the damn thing to you if I'm not too tempted to burn it first.

Thankfully, I have Book #3 Jesus' Son by Denis Johnson to go on to. It's another one recommended by Chuck so there's hope.

The 50 Book Challenge

A few of the weblogs I read have incorporated something called a 50 book challenge into their lives. This is where they read 50 books in a year and talk about them in their blog. Some rules can be found here.

Since I write about all the books I read anyway, I've decided to take this up. I will retroactively call Sarah number one since I did read it after the new year. Number two is in progress, but I'm not talking about it yet because I'm ashamed to say I'm reading it. And, no, don't worry it's not Playboy.

However, I've yet to decide if I'll count books read for humanities in this count or not. We'll see.

Sarah : A Novel

Sarah by J.T. LeRoy is an odd novel.

First, I found it odd because despite its subject matter (mostly male prostitution at truck stops), its cover boasts the book as a national bestseller. Even an uber-liberal like myself wouldn't expect a novel dealing with that subject matter to earn the title of national bestseller. Of course, if it did I would expect it to be amazing.

Also, since this is another book that comes with praise from Chuck Palahniuk himself, I would expect it to be amazing.

However, while both these facts are true about Sarah, the novel just isn't amazing. It's a cute little story of the losing and homecoming of a young male cross-dressing truck-stop prostitute. Yes, I mean a cute tale, despite the subject matter.

The problem with this novel seems to be that despite the harrowing subject matter the story isn't harrowing. The characters, not even Sarah, are not characters you sympathize with. The novel is well crafted and the writing is superbly structured, but it's not compelling. It doesn't mirror the true horror of the situations it describes. Its flat.

Hopefully, we can blame this on amateurism, because there is definitely potential here, and from what I remember I believe LeRoy published this story at the age of twenty, which leaves a lot of room for growth.

Buying Playboy for the Articles, Part Deux

Well, for those of you who know my secret about buying Playboy for the articles, it looks like I'll be doing it again.

From The Cult:
Punch Drunk - Webber and Flint - Face pushed out of shape, lips split so deep that have four instead of two - travel the country in drag, charging people to slug them. More inspirational fiction by Chuck Palahniuk.

Don't worry. I don't have a clue what any of that means either, except that it seems I will be picking up the February issue of playboy which hits the stands January 7th.

The Ice at the Bottom of the World : Stories

The Ice at the Bottom of the World by Mark Richards was recommended by Chuck Palahniuk as an example of the power of sounds and something Palahniuk calls "the burnt tongue." For those of you in search for more common praise the book also comes with the 19990 PEN/Ernest Hemingway Foundation Award.

Very early in my reading I was reminded of The Canterburry Tales, and while for many of you that may be a reason to write of this book right now, let me explain myself. Each story in this book takes on a surprisingly distinctive voice, so much so that I didn't feel like there was one author for this collection, but that there must have been many to achieve such variety in voice. In that sense I was reminded of the tale told by each character in The Canterburry Tales.

Most of the stories aren't really about anything. Some of them like "Fishboy" seem more to be experiments in language than a true story, but the book feels like sitting in a restaurant listening to the conversations of the people around you eating dinner. The stories are deeply personal and that seems to be what makes them work.

I think I agree with Chuck about this one, it is definitely worth a look.

The Great Shark Hunt : Strange Tales from a Strange Time

Don't ask me how I've done it, but I finally finished The Great Shark Hunt by Hunter S. Thompson, which shall henceforth be referred to as the "tome of immobility."

Now in all truthfulness, this is in a no way a tome of immobility as it's a collection of Thompson's gonzo journalism from the sixties and seventies and if he's not flying across the country he is flying on mescaline, ether, or some other drug.

Now, I enjoyed this book, but I can't recommend it to most because, in my mind, there are two reasons anyone should read this novel. First, if your an enthusiastic fan of Thompson, or secondly, if you're an aspiring journalist who wonders what it might've been like to be a freelancer in during the era of careless drug use.

Which is not to say that it isn't good writing, it is, but after oh four hundred pages of irrelevant journalism it begins to drag just a tad. Thompson covers everything from sports (including a very early superbowl) to Nixon-era politics. I think the politics coverage is the best part of the book, but then I am certainly no fan of sports.

Thompson certainly has a way with words and many of his drug-crazed adventures are deeply entertaining, but everyone except the most hard-core Thompson fan is going to find some part of this book a bore, so hang on to your Barnes and Noble gift cards for now.