Hop Hop Hop Hop Hop Hop Hop Hop

I wasn't going to hop this week, because, you know, I'm all lazy and stuff and can't do things two weeks in a row because that would just be too consistent and probably a normal thing to do. But, since I've been incredibly lazy about posting this week (because it's been about 5000 degrees here and I've been melting continually, and it's really difficult to type when your hands are liquid) I'm going to answer whatever questions are in store for me, and hopefully brighten up your day a little bit (but, for Gods sake, not heat it up, because we definitely don't need any of that).

This week, Parajunkee and Greads have more or less the same question, so I'm going to answer it in a two for one sort of deal. Sneaky? Maybe, but I will just bore you otherwise, so, you know, deal with it! So, phrasing it as Ginger at Greads does, Which books have affected you on a personal level, and lingered in your mind long after you closed the pages? This is so tricky, because there are books that have affected me so deeply but really have nothing to do with me or my experience in the world. This is not to say that they can't affect me at all, but can I really describe it as personal if they have nothing to do with my own experiences? One example of this is Angels in America, a play that has affected me extremely deeply, but deals quite a lot with homosexual men which, it's probably fair to say, I'm not. But maybe that's not fair to say either, because the play goes a lot deeper than simply being about struggles of gay men in America in the eighties, and deals with questions of politics, religion, mental illness, physical illness, and possibly above all things, the struggle to just live. So yeah, I guess you could say that Angels in America has affected me personally, as I guess it has the power to affect all readers personally, and it has definitely lingered a long long time after I read it. If you want to read more gushing about Angels in America, check out my review here. But don't say I didn't warn you of the gushing.





And, crazy-for-books asks What is the one ARC you'd love to get your hands on right now? I would absolutely DIE if I got The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides. And then I would recover enough to read it and, I'm sure, love it! That is, as long as it's more like Middlesex than The Virgin Suicides, because, I've gotta say, I was not a fan of The Virgin Suicides. But still, I'm sure the next book will be amazing!



Yep, so those are my thoughts for this Friday. I hope you all have fanmazing weekends, and get lots of things done and have trillions of fun! If you're stuck for something to read, you might want to check out my (pitiful!) blog offerings from this week:

On Saturday I took a look at Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters by John Steinbeck, and ruminated on the ethics of publishing journals after death, and
On Thursday I reviewed Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer, and either said something pretty good  and clever sounding, or something stupid. But, you know, judge for yourself!

Devouring Books: Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

I'm finding it difficult to define how I felt about this book because I guess I'm still a little bit stunned by it. I started off being relatively unimpressed, not because it was bad necessarily, but because it just didn't really seem to say much- event followed event, and not much meaning could be gleaned from them at all (at least by me). I'm not sure if this was an actual flaw with the book, or simply happened because I had really high expectations of it, and they sort of fell flat.

Or at least at the beginning they did. I can't really sum up Everything is Illuminated for you in a few sentences because it's far too complex for that, but it essentially stars the author and his Ukranian tour guide Alex, as they search for Trachimbrod; birthplace of (story)Foer's grandfather, and last known residence of Augustine, the woman (story)Foer attributes with the saving of his grandfather's life, and hence his own birth. This is one part of the story. The other arc attempts to chart the history of Trachimbrod, starting with the naming of the town and the discovery of Foer's great great great (and possibly a few more greats?) grandmother in the river, up until the story of his grandfather and his marriage and other stuff that I can't tell you about without ruining at least part of the story.

So. At first I was kind of like "ok, this Alex kid is really annoying' because, at least to start with he is, considering that he writes like he is constantly using the thesaurus on word, like that time in Friends where Joey wrote the letter for the adoption people that he signed 'baby kangaroo Tribbiani'. But anyway. As the story moves on, and Alex begins to show more of his character, you begin to forget the irritating way he writes (well, at least a little bit) and just begin to like him and want to nuture him, and generally just make his life better. Likewise with the first half of the story that Jonathan weaves (although of course he is weaving the whole story), I felt that the parts of the past that he reveals are not really as engaging or interesting as the parts depicting his grandfather's marriage and pre-marriage life.

You could say, then, that I was pretty underwhelmed with the first say, half, of the novel. But then, things seemed to shift, situations changed, and all of a sudden I was completely captivated. Maybe the novel was just like this all the time and I sort of missed it, but whatever the reason, I suddenly found myself on the bus one day practically forgetting my name because the story had become entirely gripping (there's a section that's like a paragraph that's about 3 or 4 pages long, you'll probably recognise it when you get to it) and I definitely nearly missed my stop. At this point, I was incredibly grateful that I'd gone through the rest of the novel (not that it was really a horrible task or anything, I just wasn't that motivated to read it) and I really felt that the second half or so made the book, or, at least, made it a great, rather than mediocre, read.

There is one particular thing from the book that, while it is not a major plot point, is something that I feel really gets to the heart of fiction, and the different approaches of writers. Alex, who it slowly emerges has been editing his side of the story to make himself, his life, and his family seem better, takes issue with the negative tone of a lot of Jonathan's part of the story. In chastising him, he says this:
"I do not think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem."
I think this just sums up what literature does, even when it's not necessarily continually positive- writing about the world, and about life, adds a poignancy to things that does not exist in everyday life. This is essentially because seeing things as a self-contained story means that things are finished off and put into lovely boxes flourished with big bows, in a way that things in life almost never are, and even if they are, you can't remember how it started anyway. So Alex, in a sense, is both wrong and right- just because something is not wholly positive, doesn't mean that life does not seem excellent even in the parts of the story that he dislikes. Indeed, it is only once he becomes honest that the book itself becomes excellent to me (even though it makes certain aspects of life seem incredibly sad).

I'm not sure if that last paragraph made any sense, so if not please disregard it! The point, anyway, is that I really liked the book, ok? I have been reliably informed (by Wikipedia) that Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is actually even better than Everything is Illuminated, so I am already waiting for that to arrive from amazon.com (thanks to the $10 voucher I won from Sarah Says Read!) and I'm incredibly excited to read that too! But regardless of how good it is, Everything is Illuminated is still very much worth a read and a careful consideration. And probably a better analysis than I've offered above. But I do try my best...

Devouring Books: Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters by John Steinbeck

Before I begin talking about this book, I want to firstly tell you what I think of the publication of people's journals after they die. Basically, while it can probably give you some insight into their state of mind at the most creative points in their lives, it's also the kind of writing that no one was ever meant to see, and is an invasion of privacy that the writer is unable to defend themselves from, or to protest against in any way. When Kurt Cobain had one of his journals stolen while he was still alive, he said that it was like being raped. The fact that Courtney Love then allowed his journals to be published after his death makes me want to throw up just a little bit, especially when one considers his feelings on other people reading his innermost thoughts. Even if you think that post-death publication of journals is pretty much a victimless crime (the only victims being dead, and probably not caring all that much) then consider this- would you want someone else reading your journal? I can't even tell you how excruciating I would find that, especially because most of the things I've written in there I don't even feel or believe anymore. People live and learn and move on, and journals represent only a frozen moment in time that is not representative of a person as a whole.

Now. Having said all that, the 'Journal of a Novel' title here is slightly misleading, since it is in the form of letters to Steinbeck's editor Pascal Covici, meaning that it was always meant to be read by someone else, and, frankly, is Covici's property as much as Steinbeck's to do with it what he pleased. Fortunately for us Steinbeckphiles (can that please be a new word? Because it's sort of awesome), the thing that he chose to do was publish the letters/journal, and they provide a fascinating insight into what goes into writing a novel. It is so thrilling to see Steinbeck saying things like this was the book that he was always preparing to write, and it's wonderful to see the growth of East of Eden, from a mere idea, to an actual physical book.

It's difficult to criticise this book because, firstly, it wasn't really meant for publication, so how can one blame Steinbeck for not being interesting enough; and secondly because there's not really anything to complain about- these are his days, as he saw them, and this is the way he wrote East of Eden- slowly, steadily, and tightly controlled. I'm not going to pretend that it is the finest written journal ever- things like his talking about his weight and what his wife was doing that day are not necessarily that interesting, but what they are is undeniably human. What this journal does, then, is bring the author back down to earth, making him a person rather than a legend, and giving a very realistic idea of what it takes to write a novel- the emotional and physical determination, and the mental concentration that one must have to put words on paper.

The best thing about this book was the way you could see East of Eden being crafted and really coming along, and the way Steinbeck described the book as being separate from himself, something which he gently had to bring into being, rather than it being a product entirely of himself. As well as that, there is a lot of insight into writing, into the ideas of good and evil, and also a bit more discussion about some of the themes and ideas presented in East of Eden itself. It's not the fastest read, but it is well worth the effort to get through it, and I think you'll really like Steinbeck as a person- I already knew that I did having read A Life in Letters, and this book only reaffirmed that. Here is just one example of the insight that Steinbeck offers us in this book:

"Writing is a very silly business at best. There is a certain ridiculousness about putting down a picture of a life. And to add to the joke-one must withdraw for a time from life in order to set down that picture. And third one must distort one's own way of life in order in some sense to simulate the normal in other lives. Having gone through all this nonsense, what emerges may well be the palest of reflections. Oh! it's a real horse's ass business. The mountain labours and groans and strains and the tiniest of rodents comes out. And the greatest foolishness of all lies in the fact that to do it at all, the writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true. If he does not, the work is not worth even what it might otherwise have been."

Seriously, this is how the guy writes even in his journal. If you have never read a Steinbeck book, imagine how good that could be! But anyway, the insight into the mind of a writer is really invaluable, and I think this book is worth reading just for that. Even if it takes you months to get through (ahem... look, I really like fiction, ok?) it's definitely worth a read if you're at all interested in what it takes to write a novel and how the writer thinks. You might just want to get it from a library though, because at 182 pages for £9 (about $15) I'm not sure even insight is worth that much. I got mine for my birthday, mind you, so I can't say I really mind family members paying that kind of money for a teeny book. That's just how I roll...

Who Here Remembers Hopscotch?

That's right, I'm hopping again this week! I know you've all so missed this... Probably. But I am lacking a post for today because I'm too lazy to write book reviews, so I'm going to mull over some questions in my brain and give you some kind of responses to them. Sounds good, I know...

So, this week, Ginger at GReads asks: If you could be one character from a book, who would you be and why? I'm pretty sure that I've already tried and failed to answer this question before, but I guess I'll give it another go. It's so difficult to think of a character that you want to be when you know everything about them, flaws and all. If forced, though, I'd probably pick Jo from Little Women- although she's sometimes dissatisfied with herself, she knows who she is and what she wants to be, and always stays true to that. She even forgives Amy when she's being a little bitch, and that takes some kind of inner patience that I'm pretty sure I lack. This is not even to say that Jo is my favourite book character ever, but I wouldn't at all mind being her for a bit.






This week, Parajunkee asks: What T-shirt slogan best describes you? I sort of hate this question, because who really wants to define themselves through words that you can fit on a T-shirt? I was just going to avoid the question completely, but then I thought of a T-shirt that I have that probably describes me, or at least one aspect of me, as well as anything else can do:

I really really really do heart New York. Just in case you didn't know that about me yet.

Crazy-for-books this week asks: Highlight one book you have received this week that you can't wait to dig into! I have to tell you, not one word of a lie, that I haven't gotten any new books this week. In fact, I haven't bought any new books since the start of July, mainly because I have so many to read that it seems a little ridiculous to buy more. All I've gotten in the book line this week is Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansson, which my sister gave me from her classroom at school (she teaches year 4). This is, apparently, a loan, but I'm hoping she'll forget about it and then it'll be for keeps! Anyway, I'm very excited about it because of my undying moomin love!

So yeah, that's me. Definable by a character in a civil war era novel, and a T-shirt, apparently. If you're a new stopper-by, then hello to you! Take a look around why dontcha, tell me if you see anything you like! For your enjoyment and a little taste of my week, why not look at these posts from this week:

On Monday, I talked about Oranges are not the only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson- an awesome read that is far more about fundamentalist religion than lesbians,
On Tuesday, I revealed my top ten books dealing with tough issues, including the death of a parent, suicide, and I think most importantly, how to deal with mad wives in the attic,
Wednesday saw the next stage in my Stephen King challenge unfolding- I reviewed Roadwork by Richard Bachman, and I've got to say, I liked it A LOT.
To change things up a bit on Thursday, I reviewed Up in the Air, a film that is very complex, but still really down to earth and engaging.

That was the week that was. I hope you find something you like amongst all that, and that you have an extremely good weekend!

Devouring Films: Up in the Air

My abiding memory about Up in the Air, before I saw it, was that my friend Frances categorically refused to go and see it at the cinema with me, saying that it looked 'really really really boring' and that it would be a waste of precious hours of life. When I finally saw it, courtesy of LoveFilm, I took great pleasure in triumphantly texting her and letting her know that it was far from being boring. In fact, it's pretty great. I'm not sure that she cared that much about this earth-shattering piece of information, but I can definitely pass on the good news to all of you- Up in the Air is not at all boring!!

So, the premise of the film is, possibly, a tiny bit boring. George Clooney (*sigh*) plays Ryan Bingham, a man whose job is firing people for other people; but more crucially than what he does is the way he does it- he gets to travel around the entirety of America, barely out of airports or hotels and being at home for only around 40 (miserable) days per year. 'So, what?' I hear you cry. 'The film is just a load of airports and hotels and offices and stuff and Clooney just goes around looking all smug and satisfied with his life?' Well, a little bit, yes. But also, a lot more than that as well. You see, I think of Ryan as a pretty tragic character. He thinks he's happy with his life, where he only has to look after and think of himself, and where his main life goal is to get 10 million air miles (oh yes), and to this end he even holds a load of seminars where he tells people that responsibilities, not only of owning material things but also of having relationships with other people, only drag you down and stop you achieving your full potential. But he's definitely not happy.

The thing that I think most relates to how I think about Ryan actually comes from an advert (shameful, I know) that we have in the UK. I can't even remember what it's for (possibly online dating?) but in it it says how everyone's connected, but not really connecting. Not only do I think this is a pretty fair assessment of modern life (we're connected to everyone we've ever met, practically, by facebook, but how long do we spend really talking to, and forging deep connections with the people we know?) but it's practically the best description of Ryan that could exist. He's connected to the entire world, can go (and has gone) anywhere by plane, but he lacks a connection to a single human being. We can assume that he gets laid, talks to other people, and so on, but when it comes down to it he is alone. He avoids talking to his family, hasn't met his sister's fiance, and just generally shuns any kind of close human relationship. The saddest part of this whole scenario is that he doesn't seem to care about this at all-as long as he can keep running up airmiles, without having to face how empty his life really is, he's fine.

This changes with the arrival of two very different women in his life, each of whom plays a part in making him reassess the isolated way he lives his life. Alex (Vera Farmiga) is a confident, self-assured businesswoman who lives in a similar way to Ryan, and who tells him "Just think of me as you, just with a vagina." As a seduction technique, this is apparently extremely effective (himself being the one person who he values above any other) and they are soon embroiled in a sex-relationship thing whenever their cross-country schedules allow. In this relationship, Ryan finds something that he was never looking for, and, it has to be said, we're rooting for them to get together (properly) by the end of the film. The other woman in Ryan's life is Natalie (Anna Kendrick), an idealistic 22 year old who wants all the things that Ryan doesn't, and who tries to convince him that the way he lives is unfulfilling, lonely, and just plain sad. I like to think that Ryan learns things from her, but also that she learns from him- how to live your life according to what you want rather than entirely what someone else wants. How to be, in other words, a little more selfish.

To tell you anymore, I think, would be to rob you of the wonderful experience that watching this film provides. Does Ryan reach his airmiles target? Does he learn how to connect- really connect- with other people? With, as we all hope, Alex? Are there roles for women that almost all actresses would die for? (Actually, I can tell you this one already. Yes. Yes there are. Also, it being a Jason Reitman film, I can also tell you that Jason Bateman is in it.) For the answers to the rest of these questions and so much more, you're going to have to watch the film. And then, once you have, please come back and discuss it with me- there's so much more to say!

Devouring Stephen King (as Richard Bachman): Roadwork

I'm rarely surprised when a Stephen King book being good, but after the last two Richard Bachman books I read (Rage and The Long Walk) were found wanting somewhat, I didn't really have high expectations for Roadwork. This was a bit of a mistake, as it turned out, because Roadwork was, without a doubt, my favourite Richard Bachman book so far (and, I'm not afraid to say, better than a few Stephen King books as well). I'm not sure if this is an indication of King's growing talent as a writer, or just my love of the subject matter, but either way, this was a really good read. Such a good read, in fact, that I read the bulk of it in one evening. Oh yes.

So, the basic premise of this book is that this guy, Barton Dawes, stands alone against the great gods of road construction, resisting the building of a highway that is going to destroy his place of work, his home, and, so he believes, everything that he has been for the past twenty years. Stated like this, his reluctance to move is pretty understandable, but actually Bart has a lot of other things going on. Slowly it becomes clear to us that his son had died a few years earlier, the building of the road, in Bart's mind, destroying everything about his child's life; and all these things combined mean that Bart is ever so slightly cracking up. As part of this, Bart has lost all perspective- instead of seeing moving as a brand new start, he sees it as the absolute worst thing that could happen to him, the loss of the familiar things around him somehow, I suspect, correlating with the loss of his sanity.

I can't even tell you how much I wanted to yell at him 'IT'S JUST STUFF!' a la Lester Burnham, when he was lamenting the loss of his house and his office and things, especially since he lets his marriage fall apart while clinging onto the things that seem to matter more to him, like bricks and mortar and the past. But then, when I thought about it a bit more, I realised that, really, a house is more than just physical things, it's a home- made up of memories that, I guess, you feel like you're letting go of if you are away from the physical triggers for them. At the crux of why Bart can't give up the house, then, is his son's death and his inability to cope with its fact- emotionally crippled since it happened, letting go of the house is like losing his son all over again, only this time for good because he won't even have the memories of him. Looking at Bart in this way, then, it is a lot easier to understand what looks like materialism actually being a form of mourning.

Like the other Bachman books I've read, Roadwork is not at all focused on evil monsters or malignant forces on the world (unless you count evil businesses ruining people's lives), but more on the demons that live inside each of us. This can sometimes be scarier than the actual monsters, and I think Bart would tell you a thing or two about that- the journey that we are invited to embark upon into his head is not an a tame one, and it's difficult to consider whether I'd rather face myself (who I can't get away from) or a demonic clown (who I just have to kill and then everything will be fine!) It's scary in a different way, but it still looks on the darker side of life, into the realms of people's minds and their neuroses. Unchartered, and very intimidating territory.

To say much more would be to give away massive plot points (although the whole gist of it is 'man doesn't like road, goes a bit mental' but, you know, better than just that) but there is an encounter with a hitchhiker that presented me, at least, with possibly the most memorable moments from a really impressive book. Firstly, he discusses with her the reasons why he hates the road, stating that it's just something that he can't agree to, and can't let happen to him. This interchange occurs:

" 'You're either really crazy or really remarkable,' she said.
'People are only remarkable in books' he said." 

This just makes the book a tiny bit meta (the character realising his own nature and stuff) but is also an admission of his own madness, something which he is reluctant to admit out loud to anyone in the rest of the book. The fact that he does so offers some promising insight into whether or not he can escape his depression (or depression plus...) and the realisation that we really want him to. The other exchange comes on Christmas day, as he tries to convince her, as a good father would (child replacement, anyone?) that she needs to stick out what she's doing and not give up as easily as she has been doing her entire life. He thus passes on his sage, albeit depressing, wisdom:

"'No, no, you listen. Dig your ears out. Getting old is like driving through snow that just gets deeper and deeper. When you finally get in over your hubcaps, you just spin and spin. That's life. There are no plows to come and dig you out. Your ship isn't going to come in, girl. There are no boats for nobody. You're never going to win a contest. There's no camera following you and people watching you struggle. This is it. All of it. Everything.'" 

Have you ever heard a better  'pull your socks up' speech? Because I'm not sure I have. Just when some people might have written off the Bachman books as not good enough to bear the King name (ahem), he goes and knocks it out of the park with wisdom like that, and with the entire book in general. Just awesome, awesome stuff.

As you may probably have been able to tell, I really liked this book. I just read on wikipedia that King wrote it when he was trying to come to terms with his mother's death, and originally he was really disappointed with it. Fortunately, he saw sense, and perhaps his own genius, and now sees it as his favourite of the early books. I'm finding it really difficult to disagree with him.

Top Ten Tuesday

Top Ten Books Tackling 'Tough' Issues


1. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee (racism)- I know I include this on every list. But really, I'm not sure that there's a better book dealing with racism out there- the narration of a child makes it very clear that racism is a really simple, foolish concept that is completely ridiculous. It also deals with the extremely difficult issue of growing up, but that's another thing entirely...


2. The Color Purple by Alice Walker (rape and incest)- I can't even tell you how uplifting this book (eventually) is- putting out the message that you can overcome almost anything and still be in one piece, and, incredibly, happy at the end.


3. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood (sexism)- I know it's all dystopian and stuff, but that shit COULD HAPPEN! And that's really scary. As well as the whole oppression of women thing, it also deals with the tyranny of organised religion, and hopefully anyone who reads it would want to prevent such a horrific future.


4. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (mental illness, teenage angst)- My favourite book involving a slightly mentally ill teenager, and a whole lot more teenage issues. If you still feel too weird, or not good enough after reading this, then you probably need to go back and read it more carefully this time.


5. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (poverty)- Written as a protest novel in the 1930s, I think this still packs a pretty big punch today. Depicting conditions that no one should have to live in, it really makes one angry and all world changey and stuff. Just not, you know, very articulate.


6. Hamlet by William Shakespeare (death of a parent)- This work is also 'I was struggling to think of things at this point', and now that I think about it, Hamlet is a bit of a how-to guide in terms of how not to deal with grief (vengefully and potentially insanely) but I guess in that case one can learn things from the play for the correct way to grieve. Also, you know, about life and stuff...


7. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (suicide)- I think what Anna Karenina teaches us about suicide is to not steal a teenager's boyfriend and then suspect him of having sex with other women and then freak out and throw oneself under a train. It's just a suggestion, but I don't think that's a great thing to do. Call me crazy if you like...


8. Angels in America by Tony Kushner (AIDS)- I know this is every list along with To Kill A Mockingbird. But really it's pretty relevant here! Not only does it deal with AIDS (it's about gay men in the 80s, what were you expecting?) it also deals with politics, religion, mental illness, sex, and what love really means. I'm not sure if any questions are actually answered, but really you'll be a better person for reading it.


9. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (mad wives in the attic)- Yeah, this is a bit of a tongue in cheek one (I was struggling again) but I really do think that Jane does the right thing/the only thing she could have done under the circumstances that she was put in. This is hopefully one tough issue that few of us have to face, but if any of us ever do, we'll know to leave our nearly-husband with dignity and then probably go back to him once he is widowed when his wife burns his house down (God that book's good...)


10. Maus by Art Spiegelman (the Holocaust)- I haven't read that many stories of the Holocaust because my mind can barely comprehend such horrific things actually being done to humans by other humans. I can, however, barely imagine a more realistic, sensitive without being overly sentimental, and dealing with the guilt that children of Holocaust survivors feel, which is something that I hadn't really considered before. Definitely my favourite graphic novel of all time.

So that's my top ten, how about you? I definitely struggled a bit with this one, so I'll be impressed if everyone makes it to ten today! I'm looking forward to some intense book recommendations too. Happy Tuesday everyone!