“Hitler has said to his people ‘I offer you danger and death’ and as a result a whole
nation flings itself to his feet.” — George Orwell
WRITING ABOUT READING - A running tally of all the books I've read!
A literary assistant posting thoughts on publishing, book news, and reviews.
You should follow me on TWITTER: booksijustread // CONTACT: booksijustread@gmail.com
A literary assistant posting thoughts on publishing, book news, and reviews.
You should follow me on TWITTER: booksijustread // CONTACT: booksijustread@gmail.com
I’m not a huge non fiction reader but as soon as I heard a brief description of Hitlerland, by Andrew Nagorski, I knew I wanted to read it. Nagorski’s Hitlerland is a well-researched, engagingly written, and fascinating portrait of Americans living in Nazi Germany. You can read an adapted excerpt here, and indeed, the excerpt is about one of my favorite people from the fascinating cast of characters that makes up this book. I say characters because even though every person is real, and everything they did is real and documented, the people are singularly interesting and one of a kind.
Martha Dodd, for example, was the daughter of William Dodd, the United States Ambassador to Germany. She became a Soviet spy and was known for the many relationships she had with various men during her time in Germany. Martha is just one of many people profiled in Hiterland, all of whom have an interesting progression in their opinions on Nazi Germany, and display real humanism in their behavior while living through and in one of the most interesting times and places in the 20th century.
I was out with three friends recently, and one of them said, flippantly, during a booky talk: “So Cormac McCarthy, overrated, right? At least that’s what I’ve heard.” The remaining three of us looked at each other trying to decide who’d get to be the one to correct the sorry son of a bitch. I took initiative: “Uhh, no, he’s pretty much one of the top 5 living American writers,” I said. My poor friend didn’t know what he had gotten himself into, the other two McCarthy-ites supported me unequivocally. And the night ended in us berating him until he agreed to read Blood Meridian under our collective glares.
The funny thing is that my feelings were this strong after only reading three of McCarthy’s books, Blood Meridian, Child of God, and lastly, All the Pretty Horses. Blood Meridian enthralled me, Child of God repelled me, and All the Pretty Horses engrossed me, but in all, McCarthy’s prose did nothing but hold my attention. I read him in a daze, and this was wholly true during All the Pretty Horses.
John Grady Cole was a very different protagonist than I was used to McCarthy writing. He was likable, manly, exciting, emotional. He started out endearingly childlike, running away from his home in Texas to Mexico. He loves horses, and admirably, he knows a lot about what he loves. This trait was what really developed in him, the adult, manly way he learned and grew in relation to something he loved. In many coming of age stories, the protagonist hints at what he loves, has epiphanies that aren’t borne out by the story’s end. All the Pretty Horses was a different type of bildungsroman, instead of hints and subtleties about what lies ahead for John Grady Cole, we watch his world become increasingly violent, fraught, and masculine. He becomes entrenched in the masculinity of his time, of Texas and Mexico, and while he starts out idealistic, he is eventually brutalized. In the vein of the movie Life is Beautiful, we experience these two polarities of John Grady Cole’s adolescence, the innocence and the corruption, progressively. From his love for Alejandra to his beseeching search for redemption at the hands of a judge, Cole displays the ecstasy of youth, freedom, justice, and choice while at the mercy of his own desperation for peace of mind.
There has been a lot of writing about women in writing, in publishing, lately. After VIDA posted its 2011 byline infographics, the undeniable, red slices proved what many have deplored. Most publications’ content was filled with less than a quarter of content by women. The Rumpus posted stories, http://therumpus.net/author/Elissa-Bassist/, http://therumpus.net/2012/03/confidence-women/, about how to get more women writing and publishing.
To me, these problems have always been solvable by education, which is why I love programs like Girls Write Now, and 826. These are encouraging young women to write and express themselves from a young age, and are instilling the confidence necessary to show someone your writing, the touchstone of going from writing for yourself to writing professionally. Once we are flooded with these kinds of girls, when these girls grow up and have surplus confidence and skills, I am hopeful that those pie slices will edge towards half. And I really loved Elissa Bassist’s piece and GOOD’s project of helping women through your network. It’s hard to be giving of your time, especially when you have your own career and work to think about, but the help you give to others when they need it is worth it. There’s nothing more exciting than watching yourself succeed, it’s almost as good as succeeding yourself. GOOD’s project is all about the tangible, productive ways we can seriously help women claim half of those pies at The Atlantic, The New Yorker, and Harper’s. And I love that.
Here’s a list of some awesome living women writers to honor and help celebrate this auspicious day!
Marilynne Robinson
Dana Spiotta
Zadie Smith
C.E. Morgan
Karen Russell
J.K. Rowling
Jennifer Egan
Sheila Heti
Ann Patchett
Ann Beattie
Joan Didion
Thank you to all of these amazing women who are producing such stellar work!
Seth Godin
“
Libraries are like the radio for books.
”
I read Dana Spiotta’s STONE ARABIA on the recommendation of The Millions’ Year in Reading series. Edan Lupucki wrote about the book in such a compelling, convincing way I just had to read it, and then I liked it so much I decided I had to read Edan’s book too. STONE ARABIA was the kind of book I kept dogearing, kept quoting. Spiotta has an uncanny ability to make all her sentences good, but make some stand out from the rest somehow. Cormac McCarthy does the same thing, one sentence just catches you up, obsesses you, even though it’s right in the middle of hundred other notable sentences. I’m sure everyone would pick different sentences every time. This complete subjectivity in language is impressive, as were the deep emtional reactions she was able to elicit in me throughout the book.
On top of the sentence level seriousness, studiousness, and carefulness, STONE ARABIA boasts a thing many books can not- perfection in relation. Siblings, in particular. Spiotta has written a tearjerkingly perfect brother and sister pair. In a way it reminds me of Judy Blume or Beverly Cleary the way she encapsulated this feeling of being something, a sister. Blume and Cleary are writing for young audiences, but they are no less than geniuses at making you feel nostalgic with the reality they show in other peoples’ relationships. Spoitta’s Denise and Nik exude this too- nostalgia inducing love, affection, and a weirdness that’s unexplainable. How can their weirdness and uniqueness remind you of yourself? No one has had their relationship, just as no one could have mine and my sister’s but we two. Yet, Spiotta is so observant and her writing is so powerful, that you can recognize yourself as a sister in Denise, see your brother in Nik. I thought this was a very, very, beautiful thing to have acheived and the idea of it just made me cry and cry.
Unbelievable, Roberto Bolano, The Savage Detectives
“
For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it’s the Readers who keep pace. The journey may be long or short. Then the Readers die one by one and the Work continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path. Then Criticism dies again and the Readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude. To come near the Work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed. Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness. And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man’s memory. Everything that begins as comedy ends as tragedy.
”
Bare bones on the details, NYT, but still, news that made my week! YAY!
Reblogged from millionsmillions|227 notes |#
David Foster Wallace (via millionsmillions)
In memoriam of DFW, whose 50th birthday would have been today.
“
Fiction’s about what it is to be a fucking human being.
”
Reblogged from pentagramofpenises|72 notes |#
Don’t even think about it.
(Source: dolorespointfive)
1 note |#