Category: 1001 books

#19 – The Sea

While not at all typical in its writing style or its telling, John Banville’s The Sea is a book with a familiar story. An older man suffers a tragedy that stops his life short and in the process looks back at a particular point in his youth, another moment that he realizes far too late that defines him. It’s the story Richard B. Wright told so well in October, that Per Petterson’s Out Stealing Horses explores so deftly, and that Banville toys with in The Sea. His protagonist, Max Morden, has just watched his wife die from an insufferable illness and simply can’t cope. He leaves his life (and even refuses to go back to the house they shared together) and returns to the small sea side town where he used to vacation with his parents before they split up.

The small village of Ballyless, miles away from a town ironically called Ballymore by Max, holds sway over him. It was the site where he fell for his first love, a tempestuous, temperamental and even bullying tomboy of a girl named Chloe. As Max grieves for his wife, he rolls back over the motions of his life, the summer he spent with Chloe and her (I’m assuming autistic) brother Myles, their governess Rose, and their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Grace. Much more than a symbol, the sea itself governs all of his actions that summer, he shows off swimming, they play at the seaside, and every character changes during the time they spend by the water, some for better, some for worse.

With both of his defining relationships now behind him, his marriage and his definitive first love, Max seems unable to move beyond either. Moored to both experiences as a boat to a dock, he can’t cast himself off from the past, even though his daughter desperately wants to save him from himself. An art critic, he can’t help but look at everything with the same discerning eye he would apply to a painting, pulling his life apart strip by beautiful strip, setting it under the same disturbing light he applies to his professional life.

I dogeared so many of the almost-200 pages of this novel and constantly wondered about Banville’s impressive vocabulary, his superb ability to create suspense within a story without the reader ever expecting the tale’s many twists, and how he packed so much into such a short novel. I can absolutely see how and why he won the Booker for this novel in 2005.

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: The book sitting on top of my book, that I printed out in its entirety yesterday, shocked and kind of thrilled at the size of the manuscript.

READING CHALLENGES: Tackling two lists: Around the World in 52 Books, The Sea counts toward Ireland, and it’s also a 1001 Books book.

WHAT’S UP NEXT: Tim Winton’s The Turning.

#17 – Sense and Sensibility

I have fallen so far behind in my reading that I couldn’t believe it when I finally finished a whole book. Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility is a lovely way to ease back into actual book blogging. A well-known story, captured by the 1995 Ang Lee film starring Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet, the novel took me a while to read, only because my mind has been occupied on so many other things.

Put out of their house by their father’s son (their half-brother), the Dashwoods (Elinor, Marianne, Margaret and Mrs.) are given a home by a distant cousin, Sir John Middleton. A man who does love a good dance, Sir John takes it upon himself to bring the Dashwoods well into his social circle, which includes his wife, Lady Middleton, Mrs. Jennings (her mother and an ardent matchmaker), and various other cousins and, of course, Colonel Brandon. Marianne Dashwood, the younger, impetuous, full-hearted sister of Elinor, falls madly for a rake named Willoughby, who doesn’t act at all like a gentleman of sense should. And while we’re on the topic of men in troubling situations, let’s not for get Elinor’s paramour, Edward Ferrars, who also suffers from a dose of poor judgment when it comes to the human heart. Elinor, the rock of good sense, whose own sensibilities are put to the test over and over again, might just be my favourite of all the Austen heroines. She’s smart, plucky and full of incredibly smart things to say.

What else can I add? I love Jane Austen. I love every book of hers I read. I love the fact that I saved her for this stage of my life, when I can appreciate her long sentences and brilliant structures. When I’m not a foolish girl organizing my literary degree upon avoiding anything that wasn’t published in the 20th century.

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: Just the cover tonight, I’m afraid.

READING CHALLENGES: The first of the two 1001 Books I’m to read this month, which means I’m still on track to meet at least one of my reading goals this month.

WHAT’S UP NEXT: The Horseman’s Graves by Jacqueline Baker

#15 – The Quiet American

Finishing up Graham Greene’s exquisite little The Quiet American brings me up to speed now in terms of my 1001 Books club, and this post is a milestone in the blogging world too, as I’ve hit 1000 posts. Instead of writing the same things in two different places, I’m just going to copy and paste what I posted up on the boards:

What did you think of the book?

I appreciated the short, succinct nature of The Quiet American. I enjoyed the book’s politics, its own powerful, yet stilted, observations about the conflict from Fowler’s point of view, and the overwhelming drive for Pyle not only to save the country from itself, but to marry Phuong, to “save” her in a sense.

Had you read this author before?

No, but I had seen the movie (although I didn’t remember all of it).

Would you read something by him again?

Absolutely.

What would you rank this book out of 10?

8.

Do you think it deserves to be included on the list of 1001 and why?

I do think it deserves to be on the 1001 Books list. Why is a much harder question. I think unlike books on the list like The Lambs of London (which absolutely do not belong on the list) or every single title that Ian McEwan has written (I think they were desperate to fill the pages by then; and not that many don’t deserve to be, but every one?), The Quiet American has a fascinating sense of morality underlying its narrative: the line between good and evil isn’t clear, not in war, not in life, and certainly not between men.

As a kind of conversation between neo-colonialism (of the quiet kind) and overwrought, more classic colonialism of the French and British, the novel puts the characters of Pyle and Fowler in impossible situations, if only to prove the utter uselessness of either side. Pyle can no more get over his innocence in terms of his believe in the justifiable reasons behind his cause than Fowler can actually return to his old life in London. Both are changed and immutable at the same time, much like the old ideals each side clings to during the war.

Any insightful literary critiques?

The edition that I found (it’s a British Vintage, I think) has an introduction by Zadie Smith, who points out that Fowler’s description of the war is never far behind a major plot point. That even though he states over and over again that he is neutral, whether that actually turns out to be true or not, not becoming involved is impossible. Narrative and politics become merged into one, as if the setting can’t help but stretch itself into every single aspect of the story, which remains the reason why the novel succeeds.

And this line: “She put the needle down and sat back on her heels, looking at me. There was no scene, no tears, just thought — the long private thought of somebody who has to alter a whole course of life.”

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: I didn’t like the cover of the one I have here so I just searched out one I preferred.

READING CHALLENGES: I’m on track now for the 2 per month 1001 Books challenge, and finishing this book brings my complete score to 151. I am enjoying these classics so much that I’ve already started Sense and Sensibility. I might not read anything written in this century for a while. However, I do have work reading and Canadian challenge to get back to too.

#14 – The Talented Mr. Ripley

If I could choose only one word to describe Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, it would be: thrilling. If you haven’t seen the movie, I’d highly recommend reading the book first; it’s so much richer and far less stereotypical than the film. And now I’d even go so far as to say the movie spoiled the book for me in many ways.

When first introduced to Tom Ripley, he’s pulling a half-hearted tax scam and not even bothering to cash the cheques. When fate brings him into contact with Mr. Greenleaf Sr., and presents him with the opportunity of a lifetime, there’s an instant when the story could have gone either way. Highsmith could have set out to write a beat-inspired (which is certainly what the movie picked up on) buddy tale, an On the Road Does Europe, but for one fact: ambition. Tom sees the life he wants and sets about getting it, doing anything he possibly can to abandon his pathetic life back home and reinvent himself as a man worthy of his surroundings.

When the wealthy Greenleaf sends Tom over to Mongibello with all of his expenses paid to “rescue” his son Dickie from a life of total and utter leisure, Sr. believes them to be friends, which is his first, utterly tragic mistake. From the very moment that Tom abandons his pitiful existence in New York for Europe, one can embrace the following statement from a 1001 Books:

Tom Ripley is the one of the great creations of twentieth-century pulp writing, a schizophrenic figure at once charming, ambitious, unknowable, utterly devoid of morality, and prone to outbursts of extreme violence.

See, thrilling.

Tom just doesn’t want to live with Dickie, he wants to be Dickie. And Tom’s decision to become him is so cold and calculated that it sends a chill down well below your spine. While the crimes add up (what’s another murder, really?) and the lies become truth in Tom’s head, the book races along to its utterly satisfying, yet somewhat open-ended, finish.

In a “is this book worth 1000 words” aside, here are the reasons why I book is just so much better than the Hollywood version:

1. There are far less characters. In fact, ones that play a huge role in terms of amping up the dramatic action, namely “Meredith Logue” (as played by Cate Blanchett) and Peter Smith-Kingsley (Jack Davenport), aren’t even in the book (the former) or play an incredibly insignificant role (the latter).

2. So much of the action takes place in Ripley’s head. You really get to explore the motivation behind his actions. They hint at that in the film, but the action has to be driven by impulses that can be read by even the most dense in the audience. Hammer. Meet head. Head. Meet hammer. The book is just so subtle, and that’s what’s so seductive about it.

3. Marge is pudgy. I think there’s a point when Ripley refers to her as a gourd. Unkind, to be sure, but certainly not the svelt, sexy Paltrow as portrayed in the film.

4. I do admit that the film did justice to the setting of the novel. Yet, there’s so much more in the little details: how Tom’s only going to heat his bedroom in his palazzo in Venice; how Dickie’s house has no refrigerator at first in Mongibello; how Greece looks when Tom first lands toward the end of the book. The descriptions are crisp and clean, like scissor cuts, and absolutely contribute to the atmosphere of the book. They don’t need to make the book believable; they just are.

5. The film turned Dickie into a jazz musician. Yes, it’s utterly sexy, but it’s way more real when you discover he’s a totally (from Tom’s point of view, of course) mediocre painter.

6. The end of the film always, always sat wrong with me. I felt that it was overkill (ahem, pun not intended) and unnecessary. I could understand Ripley’s motivation in terms of his other crimes, but not at all in terms of this one. It felt fake and constructed. Imagine my surprise to find that the ending to the novel is nothing like the one from the movie. Imagine my delight to see the pitch perfect note that Highsmith ends upon. And then imagine how redeemed I feel in terms of having the criticism in the first place. See, I knew it just wasn’t right…

And while I realize I can’t go back in time and unwatch the movie to preserve my reading experience, it has taught me an incredibly valuable lesson: always, always read the book first.

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: The Vintage Crime / Black Lizard trade paperback on the shelf with many other 1001 / Around the World in 52 Books titles. This one’s a keeper.

READING CHALLENGES: Another title from the 24 that I’m trying to read this year from the 1001 Books challenge. Although, I have to say, that the classics are really inspiring me these days. They’re all I seem to want to read. And I’ve now hit the nice number of 150 books read from the list. Whee!

#s6 – 10 – Vacation Reading

So, this is the stack of books I brought with me on vacation. Maybe a bit too ambitious, but I did read 5.5 of them. Not bad, eh? At one point, I was so totally engrossed in The Good Soldier that my husband and friends marveled at how I totally ignored them until I had finished the last page. Ocean? Waves? Wha?

#6 – Another Thing to Fall

I know, I know, before anyone actually says it, I should never read the ARC of the LAST book in a mystery series before reading the first, well, many books. But after loving Laura Lippman’s What the Dead Know this summer and being utterly giddy at the sight of her cameo in the first episode of The Wire this season (why are you not watching that show? Go. Right now, stop reading and start watching, honestly. It’s the best show television has ever produced in my lifetime.), I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed a copy off the publicity shelves and snuck it out before anyone could notice (yes, yes, I replaced it when I got back to work and my own copies arrived). Annnywwaaay. It’s a Tess Monaghan novel. Once a fearless reporter for a Baltimore newspaper, Tess is now a private investigator, and in this book she’s charged with the protection of an uppity actress who seems to be causing all kinds of problems on the set of the HBO series in which she stars. It’s a taut, action-packed, first-rate detective novel that hooked me from start to finish. And I have to admit, the tongue-in-cheek references to a certain production currently filming in the so-called Charm City, were all kinds of wicked fun. Plus, isn’t the cover bloody gorgeous?

#7 – The Abstinence Teacher

I came home convinced that my life needs more Tom Perrotta. My friend Randy gave me the ARC for The Abstinence Teacher back in the summer and it’s taken me a few months to get here, but I am so glad that I took this book along with me and had the chance to give it the attention it deserved. Perrotta has such a gift for capturing the nuances of American life, the contradictions, the confusions, the Christian right in battle with the more liberal left, while ensuring that his characters aren’t sacrificed in anyway for the overall themes conveyed in the story, that it’s impossible to put the book down after you begin.

The book’s two main characters: Ruth Ramsey, a sexual education teacher convinced that proper information and open honesty are the best tools she could possibly equip herself with in terms of her job; and Tim Mason, an addict turned born-again Christian who coaches the local soccer team Ruth’s younger daughter plays on, find themselves in very adult and very difficult situations when it comes to their own families, their lives, and their careers. The themes in this novel, of how religion is polarizing much of the States, and the evaporation of the middle class, never overpower the story of Ruth and Tim’s friendship. But they certainly make you think twice about the state of our society as a whole, which might be a bit heavy for the usual beach fare (goodness I counted a lot of Da Vinci Codes, honestly), but not for me. Highly recommended.

#8 – Astrid and Veronika

The Swedish entry in my Around the World in 52 Books, Sam lent me this novel before I left and it was a last-minute addition to the vacation pile. Veronika, a young writer who has just suffered a terrible tragedy, arrives at her rented cottage adjacent to a small Swedish village to find her only neighbour, Astrid, is nothing like the “witch” she was told lived in the house next door. The two women, separated by an entire lifetime, form a fast and furious friendship that allows each to free themselves of the ghosts plaguing both of their pasts.

Linda Olsson’s novel is sweet and tender as the two women reveal themselves to one another through their stories. I have to admit that I found Olsson’s storytelling a bit cloying: “Oh, let me tell you that story”, but the further I drifted with Astrid, the more I enjoyed her character, and realized that the book means for you to find it awkward at first, just as all friendships are, until it’s as if you’ve known the person beside you all your life. And the setting, especially Astrid’s house and its descriptions, well, they absolutely made me think of Per Petterson’s Out Stealing Horses, and good grief did I love that novel. The landscape is rich and overall I did enjoy this book. One I never would have read if not for my challenge. And isn’t that always the point?

#9 – My Name is Bosnia

My friend Kat recommended this book to me when we were discussing Russian novels for my Around the World in 52 Books challenge. I’m pleased I picked it up last year on a whim, because it fit nicely with my quest to finish The Canadian Book Challenge. As the book’s author, Madeleine Gagnon, is from Quebec and part of the novel takes place outside of Quebec City and in Montreal, it’s my book for that province. Gut-wrenching and unbearably sad, but hopeful by the time you get to the end, it was another book, like Astrid and Veronika that took me aback in terms of the writing style (but that could be down to the translation). The story of a young girl, Sabaheta, who comes out of the forests surrounding Sarajevo after the death of her father and changes her name to Bosnia, her journey, both emotional and physical, is epic as she tries to escape the war. Heartbreaking, that’s a good word for this book, just heartbreaking.

#10 – The Good Soldier

Saving the best for last, of course. After many, many false starts, I was determined to bring Ford Madox Ford’s classic novel with me so I would absolutely have no choice but to finish. I’ve mentioned, at least two or three times on the blog before, how much I love the first sentence of this book: “This is the saddest story I have ever heard.” And considering the man telling the story, John Dowell, is also central to its plot, setting it up this way immediately clues one to the fact that he’s an utterly unreliable narrator, and isn’t that just delicious. When we first meet John, he’s still in love with his wife, a woman with a bad heart who needs constant caretaking and long, restful periods spent at Nauheim. An American couple of a certain stature, the Dowells count themselves lucky to find company with the Ashburnhams, an upper calls British couple who also vacation for their health. “The Good Soldier” of the novel’s title refers to Ashburnham, and the further we go into the utter depths of why it’s such a sad story, the more we uncover, or discover, rather, that nothing is as it seems, either with the Dowells or the Ashburnhams.

Indeed, it’s the saddest story I’d read in a while, but the writing is just so exact and so true, and the narrative so utterly engaging that I am ashamed to have put the novel down so many times before actually finishing it. I earmarked passage after passage of prose, and even pressed the book to my chest and uttered a few, “oh no’s” while reading in a totally melodramatic fashion as I grew cold on the beach when the sun started to go down, and literally refused to speak until I had finished. Part of my own 1001 Books challenge, I utterly agree with the inclusion of this novel on the list, and if I were still studying, I think I would devote pages and pages to the effectiveness of Ford’s unreliable, utterly immovable and somewhat (if I’m being honest) idiotic narrator.

Whew! It certainly was a lot of very good reading. Good, I love vacation. I started What is the What on the last day we were there, and I’m this-close to finishing. So it was 5 Beach Books, Ragdoll styles on vacation last week.

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: The stack of novels on my hotel room bed.

READING CHALLENGES: Oh, almost too many to list: 1001 Books, The Canadian Book Challenge, Around the World in 52 Books, it was a great catch-up week.

#2 – July’s People

Nadine Gordimer’s July’s People is a bloody good book. A book I wasn’t necessarily expecting to be as riveting as I certainly found it, and by far one of the best titles I’ve read from the 1001 Books list. In fact, I was so obsessed with finishing that I stood on Lansdowne Ave and read the last two pages before walking home. Some guy walked by, chuckled, and said, “Must be a really good book.”

Uh, duh.

The story takes place in South Africa in 1980 during an uprising, which is fictional, where the country is invaded by Mozambique. With mayhem all around, Maureen, her husband Bam, and their three children are forced to flee the city. Their servant, whom they call July, offers to take them to his village, where they settle in his mother-in-law’s hut for the time being.

Stripped of their city life, their status, and with nothing but the colour of their skin and a few prized possessions (a “bakkie” [truck] and a rifle) to remind them of what life was once like and despite their fiercely liberal beliefs, Bam and Maureen struggle to get along in this foreign world. Fighting fleas, sickness in their children, language difficulties, and a whole host of other problems, it’s a challenge just to get through a day.

After weeks pass, the family starts to adjust, and the little motions that happen in families start again. The children make friends, and even Maureen finds herself more comfortable around the other women, gathering greens for dinner with them, speaking in broken Afrikaans to them, and managing the hut with a strong hand. But as a whole the family cannot flourish in the environment, and as a result, the relationship between July and the Smales breaks down.

Once affable, even amiable, small things pick away at the core differences between them: how July refuses to give back the car keys after taking a trip to town; how Maureen lords the information of his city mistress over him; and how he adjusts to life back in the village full time, how his own presence effects his family unused to seeing him home. Themes of racial inequality are impossible to ignore, as they’re turned on their heads, then ripped apart, and forced into situations that exploit how the idea of the liberalism so cherished by Maureen and her husband in a philosophical way is almost farcical.

In one of my undergraduate classes in post-colonial literature, I read Gordimer’s Burger’s Daughter, which I remember to be just as poignant and readable as July’s People. It was the same year that I read my first novel by J.M. Coetzee, Waiting for the Barbarians, but for some reason, I carried on reading him and abandoned Gordimer altogether. Maybe now is the time for me to read more Gordimer? Especially considering how much I enjoyed this novel.

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: Because I didn’t have my camera with me on Lansdowne as I read the last two pages, I’ve piled the book up on a stack of ARCs that I have to take back to work. Oh, and there are some stocking feet poking their way in as well as the library book I need to return. Ah, the life of a literary gal.

READING CHALLENGES: July’s People is on two of my lists: the 1001 Books I’d like to read this year, and the South African entry in my current Around the World in 52 Books. I’d highly recommend it for either. Oh, and I think Nadine Gordimer won the Nobel Prize for Literature (which I just confirmed on Wikipedia; she won in 1991), so we can add that to the major award winners that I’ve read in my lifetime too. Whew. Kind of like a bird life list for bookish peeps.

1001 Books Challenge – 2008

So my goal for the 1001 Books challenge is to try and read two titles per month. And in an attempt to not ensure my RRHB goes completely mad with the stacks of books consistently piling up on our shelves, I’m going to try and read the titles that I’ve already got in-house. So here’s my list for the year:

1. War and Peace by Tolstoy
Having been assigned by my creative writing teacher in a manner of speaking, the claim that it’s the most “romantic” book ever written is at stake. At 1448 pages, it’ll be almost impossible to get through. Good thing I’ve got 11 days off starting today.

2. Invisble Man by Ralph Ellison
I should have read this novel during my undergraduate American fiction class, but I never got around to it. I’ve had the novel on various bookshelves over the years and I think it’s about time I actually read the damn book.

3. The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford
Having read the first sentence about a dozen times over the past three years, I have to say it’s still one of the best I’ve ever read. That doesn’t mean I’ve actually found my way to the end of the book.
FINISHED JANUARY 2008

4. Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates
Something fun for the upcoming year.

5. Schooling by Heather McGowan
See #4.

6. The Sea by John Banville
Another book I’ve had on my TBR pile for quite some time.
FINISHED MARCH 21st

7. Drop City by T. Coraghessan Boyle
I picked up a copy of this at a used book store in Stratford, and although I’d never heard of T. Coraghessan Boyle before the 1001 Books list, the fact that part of the novel is set on a commune has me utterly intrigued. Who doesn’t love a good commune story?

8. Islands by Dan Sleigh
Ever since I heard our family story that my great-great grandfather went off to the Boer War and never returned, I’ve been curious about South Africa. It’s on my list of countries where I would spend two months if I got the chance to tour the world, if only to find out if the story is true, and this epic novel seems a good place to start.

9. July’s People by Nadine Gordimer
Speaking of South Africa, another novel that’s been on my TBR pile for years, I’ve already half-finished it twice. This is the year to get to the last page.
FINISHED JANUARY 2, 2008.

10. Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry
Recommended by Kath as one of the greatest novels of all time (at least I think that’s what she said), I brought a lovely copy home from work, and it’s going on the list.

11. Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Another “as recommended by” — it’s a friend’s favourite novel.

12. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Continuing my love affair with Austen, I am so happy that I’ve still got novels of hers to read.
FINISHED MARCH 2008

13. Middlemarch by George Eliot
Another giant classic. Enough said.
FINISHED DECEMBER 2008

14. Austerlitz by W. G. Sebald
I have a copy. It’s on a shelf. That’s pretty much why it’s on the list.

15. Philip Roth: The Plot Against America or American Pastoral
Both are on my 1001 Books shelf, so I’m not sure which one I’ll choose, but I’m happy to try and read either one.

16. Ulysses by James Joyce
We’ll see if I actually get through this one. We’ll see.

17. The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith
I recently re-watched the movie version (it was on TMN and I wasn’t feeling well) and was surprised at how much I actually enjoyed it. I’m sure the book will be even better.

18. Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Kesey
This book goes in the same category as The Good Soldier. I’ve stopped and started a dozen times since first picking it up in high school.

19. The Secret History by Donna Tartt
Emma at work recommends this one. Hence, it’s on the list.
FINISHED MAY 2008

20. The Quiet American by Graham Greene
This is for my 1001 Books club.
FINISHED FEBRUARY 2008

21. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
Who doesn’t love a good Wharton (it took my fancy; see below)
FINISHED APRIL 2008

22. Hunger by Knut Hamsun
The fancy struck me.
FINISHED NOVEMBER 2008

23. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
Again, the fancy struck me.
FINISHED NOVEMBER 2008

24. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
Because it was just that time of year.
FINISHED DECEMBER 2008

25. Choke by Chuck Palahniuk
Because there’s a movie.
FINISHED DECEMBER 2008.

And that leaves a few more titles to be determined over the next few months if something simply takes my fancy.

The running tally: 161

#74 – The Lambs Of London

For the first time since starting all the various challenges, I actually kind of disappointed in one of my books of choice. In the manner of swapping out already-decided books for ones that are a) more accessible and b) perhaps shorter and c) actually grabbing my interest at the moment, I’ve changed Cloud Atlas, which I absolutely will read one of these days, for Peter Ackroyd’s The Lambs of London. It’s also a fitting historical novel to read for the Around the World in 52 Books challenge, as it’s based on real people (Charles and Mary Lamb, authors of Tales from Shakespeare) and set in London during the late 1700s-early 1800s, which means it’ll at least give me an accurate flavour for the time and place.

But I can’t help but feel slighted by the novel. Yes, it’s an interesting piece of historical fiction; yes, it cannot be denied that Peter Ackroyd knows his stuff; and yes, I found the characters and their situations relatively interesting. In short, Charles and Mary Lamb, themselves troubled in different ways (Charles by drinking; Mary suffers from a bipolar disorder) meet an equally troubled (even if it’s not apparent at first) William Ireland. Insistent upon proving his mettle to his bookseller father, William finally gets the attention and acclaim he feels he deserves when he uncovers a number of Shakespearean documents.

Unfortunately for me, I found the story somewhat uninspiring, and a lot of the historical details felt forced and often jumped out like a grandstanding football fan forced out of the stands. On the whole, the plot was fairly predictable despite how interesting I found both the characters and the setting. In truth, I don’t quite understand why the book was included on the 1001 Books list despite, as RG (the writer who submitted the book to the anthology) insists the author “playing to his strongest suits.” And the themes of literary and personal “fraudulence” ring quite hollow in terms of novels in this genre, if I’m being completely honest.

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: The book on the patterned furniture in my Stratford hotel room.

1001 BOOK SCORE: 145

52 COUNTRIES: England

#73 – The Death Of Ivan Ilyich & Master And Man

After my teacher “assigned” Tolstoy’s “Master and Man” as required background reading for my own work, I decided to kill three birds with one story collection (homework, 1001 Books, Around the World in 52 Books). I’ve left behind The Brothers Karamazov for now and replaced it with the Modern Library edition of two Tolstoy stories: “The Death of Ivan Ilyich” and the aforementioned “Master and Man.”

Now I’m going to get this out of the way first, I haven’t read a lot of the Russians. It took me months and months, and then years and years, and then four separate tries, to get through Crime and Punishment. I’m glad I did, but for a girl that likes to power through her reading because there’s simply so much to read, I find that to be a tad labour-intensive.

However, both stories were quite short, and the entire collection clocks in somewhere around 120 pages, and there’s a power to Tolstoy’s storytelling, especially in “The Death…”, that remains captivating. I mean, there’s a reason why he’s on the 1001 Books list, and of the two stories, I did enjoy “The Death of Ivan Ilyich” slightly more than “Master and Man.”

So, I’ve read Russia. It was cold. It suffered through its characters. It made me appreciate living in a world with modern medicine and a warm winter coat. But in terms of actual critical opinion, there’s nothing that I could possibly say that might remotely be original. So I’ll tell a story instead.

Last night when I told my teacher DG that I had read the story, he went on a good, long diatribe about how War and Peace is quite possible the most romantic book ever written. It’s the only book that made him weep. That’s right, weep. So now, I’ve essentially been assigned a 1,500 page book by the teacher simply because he thinks I would absolutely enjoy it. And if Virginia Woolf made a case for the Russians, as he said, shouldn’t I?

So in starting my thoughts about a reading challenge for next year, it might just be to tackle the “giants” of our canon, but I’m afraid that’ll throw me right off my goals and I’ll never catch up to Stephen King’s 75 books a year, which, for the first time since I’ve started TRH, I’m actually on track to do. Here’s a question: how many of you out there have read War and Peace and what did you think? Is it the most romantic book ever written? Like, ever?

PHOTO IN CONTEXT: Is rightfully missing because I’ve already given my copy to a friend in my class.

1001 BOOKS SCORE: Sitting at 144. Desperately trying to get to 150 by the end of the year…

#72 – The Old Man And The Sea

The Hemingway phase continues. I finished The Old Man and the Sea last weekend but have been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to put my thoughts down. It’s a swift and sure novella that seems to be an almost perfect meditation on the classic theme of man versus nature. I can completely see how this tipped the Nobel Prize committee in his favour after it was written. The story, which follows an old Cuban fisherman on his last great run with a giant marlin in the Gulf Stream, seems simple at first, and somewhat matches Hemingway’s stripped down prose, but it’s actually quite complex.

Despite Hemingway’s deeply unemotional prose, the book certainly isn’t afraid to plainly state how pain and suffering refuse to play fair and how some people simply have bad luck (as Cormac McCarthy points out). You feel endlessly empathetic for Santiago as it becomes clearly apparent that despite eighty-four days out at sea, the fish are no longer swimming in his stream of luck. In a way, that’s kind of the strength of the book too. This idea that bad things are always happening to good people. To men who have lived long, honest, impoverished lives.

It’s also a good story to illustrate how human beings are simply powerless in terms of facing nature and winning. Like Sean Penn’s Into the Wild, the landscape is as much a character in this piece then the old man himself. The small boat, the thin line, the hard tug of the marlin, they all combine to create an atmosphere the old man will never free himself from. I’m sure that there have been better words spilled about the book, so I won’t go on here. My 1001 Books tome states that critical opinion is varied on The Old Man and the Sea, but I come down on the side that it rightly deserves to be called a classic and on the list.