happy birthday, dear jack

Happy 115th Birthday, dear Jack!

To celebrate, here are a few of my favorite quotes of his.

Read a book today.

this is pathetic

It's been about three months since my last post.  It's not that I haven't been reading.  Because I have been.  Kinda.  I've been jumping from book to book for a while, and in doing so, haven't thought to write down any thoughts about these particular books.  But it's time for an update.  Please bear with me and my fragmented thoughts/sentences; I'm nearly in my right mind, and will use this occasion to pull the pregnancy card.

Since finishing the Shakespeare book by Bryson, I've sampled:

marriage books (The Sacred Romance, Real Marriage), 

novels/short stories (Ender's Game, The Jungle Books, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Book Thief),

religious stuff (The Forgiveness Labyrinth, The Vine and the Trellis, The Mass)

other non-fiction (Made in America, The Professor and the Madman)

See?  I have been busy.  But not captured enough to finish one.  Obviously some of these I've read before.... Eh.  My eyes hurt.

Shakespeare: The World as Stage

Shakespeare: The World as Stage, by Bill Bryson

Such a satisfying read.  Finally.  Of course, considering the content, this one's pretty par for the course: it's hard to mess up Shakespeare for me.  (The only one who's ever done that is a certain undergrad professor of mine - who will remain unnamed, although that's probably an unnecessary courtesy.  She said once, literally, "Shakespeare was a pretty good writer for his time," as we read through his masterpiece Hamlet.)  This book is comparatively well-informed and -researched, with a substantial bibliography (many works of which I already own.  Yes!)

Shakespeare is a delightful, engaging, and succinct overview of the main points of one William Shakespeare's life.  Bryson discusses and probes various theories to the overwhelming silence of Shakespeare's life outside his plays and poetry, and gives the reader clear understanding of what we may believe to be true, without tremendous assumption (which, unfortunately, Shakespeare scholars and aficionados are wont to do.) 

In regards to his schooling, for instance, Bryson puts it this way:

Shakespeare's genius had to do not really with facts, but with ambition, intrigue, love, suffering -- things that aren't taught in school.  He had a kind of assimilative intelligence, which allowed him to pull together lots of disparate fragments of knowledge, but there is almost nothing that speaks of hard intellectual application in his plays -- unlike, say, those of Ben Jonson, where learning hangs like bunting on every word.  Nothing we find in Shakespeare betrays any acquaintance with Tacitus, Pliny, Suetonius, or others who influenced Johnson and were second nature to Francis Bacon.  That is a good thing -- a very good thing indeed -- for he would almost certainly have been less Shakespeare and more a showoff had he been better read.  As John Dryden put it in 1668: "Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learn'd."

And so, we love him for his humanity.

Bryson also addresses the various theories as to who Shakespeare "really" was (e.g. Marlowe, Bacon, de Vere.)  He sheds light on the origins of these theories - briefly, thank God - and concludes thusly:

In short it is possible, with a kind of selective squinting, to endow the alternative claimants with the necessary time, talent, and motive for anonymity to write the plays of William Shakespeare.  But what no one has ever produced is the tiniest particle of evidence to suggest that they actually did so.  These people must have been incredibly gifted -- to create, in their spare time, the greatest literature ever produced in English, in a voice patently not their own, in a manner so cunning that they fooled virtually everyone during their own lifetimes and for four hundred years afterward.  The Earl of Oxford, better still, additionally anticipated his own death and left a stock of work sufficient to keep the supply of new plays flowing at the same rate until Shakespeare himself was ready to die a decade or so later.  Now that is genius!

Haha.  Oh, Bill Bryson.  Thank you for charming me once again.  

i'm stuck

Here I am on my day off.

I just finished twenty pages of one book,

and here I am watching The Breakfast Club.

I'm stuck.

I'm in the middle of these two books, and I'm bored out of my mind.

Yet - 

despite the fact that I have seven+ recently purchased books sitting on my shelf

taunting me - 

I cannot move past them just yet.  

So I read twenty pages at a time.

Inching along.

Prolonging my fictive misery.

Blech.  

What do I do?

Move on?

Power through?

Stop whining and do something active?

Please advise me.

Here are the two books I'm stuck in.

The Soloist, by Steve Lopez

It's the good and true story of a journalist who meets a Julliard-educated homeless man playing a violin with two strings.  

He befriends this man, writes an article, and begins a journey with him.  

Mental health, 

classical music, 

the state of the homeless in Los Angeles, 

and the unsteady friendship between two men make for an interesting read, right?  

Wrong.  

Sure, the content is fantastic, but Mr Lopez's writing style is... bland.

Knowing him to be a journalist, and this to be his own story, I was anticipating something more along the lines of a Tuesdays with Morrie a la Mitch Albom.

With Lopez, I'm hardly engaged.

There was a movie based on this book a few years back, starring Robert Downey Jr and Jamie Foxx.

Even when I saw it in theatres, the premise was so good, but the movie was slow.

Not as slow as this book.

Egghhhhh 170 pages left.

  

Death Comes to Pemberley, by P.D. James

It's a natural choice.  The sequel to Austen's classic Pride and Prejudice.  

I ought to love everything about it.

But I don't.

P.D. James may be a brilliant crime writer and important person in literature.

But, for all I know, this book doesn't work.

The vivid personalities Austen introduced to the world fall lifeless (no pun intended) under James's pen.

I may only be fifty pages in, so perhaps I've got to give her a break and a chance, but I don't want to.

Meh.  Another I want to finish, but I'm so bored!

The Devil Wears Prada

The Devil Wears Prada, by Lauren Weisberger

Such a fun, fluff summer read!  As I was already a fan of the movie, I was delighted to find that the book was not all that different.  

**************Some spoilers ahead detailing differences between book & movie - STOP now and read the book if you want to be surprised! **************

Though decently written with vivid descriptions, the language (lottttttsssssss of F-words) was a little disappointing.  

She doesn't ever sleep with Christian in Paris.  YAY for the morality of the character, but I do wish Weisberger had spent more time developing that little flirtatious relationship.  It was fun.  :)

The story is told from Andrea's point of view, which causes the reader to commiserate a bit more with her character.  Unlike in the movie, Anne Hathaway's portrayal of Andy makes you want to hate her just a bit when she becomes absorbed in Miranda Priestly's world.  The novel's Andy, because we the readers are privy to her thoughts, is much more likable.  

Her boyfriend, named Alex - not Nate - is a saint.  He teaches at an underprivileged urban school, typically goes above and beyond in the classroom and extracurricularly, and is something of a frustrating character for that very reason.  He's as much a workaholic as Andy is.  Perhaps that's due to her lifestyle, and the changes therefore in their relationship.  Hmm.  Regardless.  He's not brooding; he's not a chef; and he's more manly, I think, than Adrien Grenier's Nate.

Certain characters are combined in the movie.  Stanley Tucci's character Nigel plays a relatively insignificant role in the book - maybe five whole sentences in the entire 375 page novel - but combined with the characters James and Jeffy of the book, Nigel comes to life on screen.  

Miranda's British, and Emily's not.

Lily, Andy's best friend, is pretty trampy.  The story weaves her story into Andy's... mainly due to the drama Lily causes.  It's Lily's alcoholism that brings about the climax of the story.

The novel ends dramatically differently than the movie.  There is no mutual respect between Miranda and Andy.  They have a significant falling-out, actually.  But this falling-out causes Andrea to receive several consequential job offers.  

**************End of spoilers!**************

Easy-peasy summer reading.  So much fun.  If you liked the movie, you will LOVE the book.  And I guarantee that you will feel like you need Prada and Gucci products after this one.  I don't even know what such brands look like, except in my imagination... but I want them.

The Search for God and Guinness

The Search for God and Guinness, by Stephen Mansfield

Such a delightful and engaging read!  From the history of beer itself to the (rather in-depth) history of this particular brewery, Mansfield takes the reader through the social, religious and political journey of the Guinness family.  

I was surprised by the way the Guinness family almost single-handedly saved the city of Dublin during crisis.  The care, the flexibility, and the proactivity of these visionaries demonstrated that this company was grounded with an understanding of the grace of God, and the responsibility to affect change in their community and world.  Seriously.  This family was involved.

Sounds sappy from the way I describe it, and I'm sorry.  It's not.  It's informative.  It's inspiring.  It got a little boring for a significant portion of the mid-chapters.  But stick with it.  

If you're a fan of Guinness the stout, you oughta read this book.  

If you're a fan of history, or Ireland, you oughta read this book.  

If you like missionary stories, you oughta read this book. 

If you like well-written books with a journalistic feel, you oughta read this book.

recent additions

I have an addiction to buying books.

I just hafta.

My recent finds at a local thrift store:

The Chosen, by Chaim Potok (have already read)

Davita's Harp, Potok

The Book of Lights, Potok

The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom (have already read)

The Devil Wears Prada, Lauren Weisberger

The Search for God and Guinness, by Stephen Mansfield (currently reading)

The Red Pony

The Red Pony, by John Steinbeck

I read this one this afternoon.  It was a glorious day: I was working on my tan, sitting on one of our new lawn chairs... glorious. 

While I don't consider myself a Steinbeck fan, I do appreciate his writing from time to time.  This most recent one reminded of me why I equally like and loathe him.  He certainly creates a scene, develops an interesting character, and causes you to care.  At the same time, however, I find that he revels in the despair of the time period.  I hate how he makes me like a character and then either kills them off or causes them to experience emotional or physical hardship.  Heartbreaking.  

Sigh.  I cannot deny, though, that I truly enjoyed The Red Pony.  I loved the relationship between Jody and Billy Buck.  Billy, the hired hand, had the most depth, I think, of the characters.  I also loved Grandfather and how he was unable to give up his thrilling adventure in the past.  Jody, the boy, essentially told the story; through that, I was given insight into his thoughts and emotional responses, but I cared more about the surrounding characters, to be honest.

Read it.  It'll take you maybe two hours. 

Ella Enchanted

Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine

Ella Enchanted was one of my absolute favorite books growing up.  I love Ella's spunkiness, I love the creativity of the plot despite the Cinderella cliche, I love the first person narrative.  And, having not read it in perhaps over ten years, I was reminded how absurd and awful the film version actually is.  Why could they have not just stuck with the perfect story in front of them?  It's far more intriguing, compelling, and there is no room for horrifying musical numbers!  

Regardless, this was a wonderful kick start to my summer reading list!  Read it if you haven't yet, and if you have, read it again!  

The Other Tudors

The Other Tudors, by Philippa Jones

Little did I know that Henry VIII, one of my favorite characters in all of history, had multiple illegitimate children, let alone plenty of potential male heirs, had they been legitimate.  I suppose that reveals my naivete toward his lifestyle (and the lifestyle of many in his position in that day).  However, this book opened my eyes, to say the least.  Not in a sensational way; Jones merely presents her research, devoting each chapter to the individuals: mistress or bastard or both, as not every affair resulted in a child.  Though Jones' writing is not sensational, it is sentimental.  Take her conclusion for instance:

Henry VIII was a man who longed for love.  His tragedy was that he was looking for love that could never exist.  He had a vision of the perfect woman, an image of his mother, and no woman could measure up to this fantasy.  Apart from this was the obsessive need for a male heir.  These two, together with the power struggles going on amongst the noble families and foreign diplomats, distorted Henry's natural desire to love and, most of all, to be loved.  

Yuck, really?  Please!  Even I, a fan of Henry's, want to gag at this schmalz.  Beyond this, she seems to consider herself the authority on every matter.  Too many paragraphs begin, "Historian So-and-So states such-and-such a timeline, or what's-her-name was close to the king at this point, but that is incorrect...."  I didn't take a lot of time to peruse her endnotes, but not many of her assertions are backed up in order to truly disprove the actual historians' findings.

That all being said, I enjoyed this book immensely.  Henry is fascinating, sentimental lovesick sap or not, and so are his subsequent children, real or alleged.

Out of the Silent Planet

Out of the Silent Planet, by CS Lewis

So maybe it's been seven months since my last book review... maybe I've been exhausted and watching too much Friends and sleeping and moving from house to house. 

Regardless.  This rather short novel took me a shameful amount of time to read.  My mind needed to be reoriented to read A) fiction, and B) sci-fi.  I really take for granted the fact that genres must be read differently, and I've been reading non-fiction like it's my job.  

Supposedly, this trilogy was born of a discussion between Jack and his friend Tolkien, lamenting the state of contemporary fiction.  Sigh, Jack.  Glad you're not around to see what they're putting out nowadays.

It's almost not necessary to comment on Jack's lush and imaginative descriptions.  I so appreciate the way he paints a scene into the reader's mind... even if the scene is so other.  I got lost in Malacandra.  

I'll be honest, this book started strong for me, got sleepy in the middle parts, and then it was all made worth it with the conversation/interrogation between Oyarsa and Ransom at the end.  Read it.  You'll see.

recently added

Yes, yes I know.

I'm hopeless.

But I found these in a thrift store.

For less than a dollar.

So.

I had to.

Robinson Crusoe & Shakespeare & the Art of Verbal Seduction.

AKA classics.

and it begins...

Merry Christmas to me!

The top five books, 

I found at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore

for fifty cents each. 

A collection of Ray Bradbury short stories.

Ella Enchanted; a favorite of mine growing up.

The Pursuit of Holiness; I lent mine to a friend, who never returned it.

The Mayor of Casterbridge; because I love Thomas Hardy.

The Silmarillion; because I need it.

The set of The Lord of the Rings + The Hobbit

were a Christmas present from Austin.

What a great start to the year.  :)