Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Paul Auster

I was in my friend's apartment in Syria the other day, browsing through his bookshelves, and I was delighted to find a copy of a book by Paul Auster, which I borrowed and read from cover to cover that very night (finally going to sleep at 0730). The book was Oracle Night. It's about a writer who has just recovered from a serious accident, about his relationship with his wife and about some of his writing. But like other Auster books, it's really about ideas.

One of the main themes of the book is about starting a new life. The main character, inspired by an anecdote in a Raymond Chandler novel*, tries to write a story about a man who is nearly killed in a freak accident, and who then spontaneously abandons his family life in New York in order to start from scratch in a new city. Leaving the house to post some letters, the main character of this story within a story ends up taking a plane to Kansas City to embark on a new and bizarre existence, working in an underground room filled with telephone directories.

Like other Auster books, Oracle Night zips along and is very easy to read, and raises plenty of existential philosophical questions in the reader's mind without ever really pinning anything down. For me, Auster's trademark is the juxtaposition of a set of complex themes about what it means to be human with a straightforwardly written narrative about the day to day activities of a central character. On one hand, his books are very entertaining and earthy, and on the other, it's never quite clear what exactly he is getting at. In the case of Oracle Night, Auster refers to "the power of the random, purely accidental forces that mold our destinies", and the motif of abandoning your life and starting again afresh is an attempt to embrace the randomness of life.

Paul Auster


Auster also writes about writing. Many or most of his protagonists are writers, and I noted one very nice passage in Oracle Night about the process of writing which may evoke feelings familiar to anyone who has searched in vain for inspiration:

"I put down the book and started pacing around the apartment, walking in and out of rooms, scanning the titles of the books on the shelves, parting the curtains and looking through the window at the wet street below, accomplishing nothing for several hours.

Now I'm off to do some reading about Auster online...

* PS: I just learned it's actually Dashiel Hammet rather than Chandler...

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Orwellian reading

I recently finished George Orwell's Coming Up For Air, which I bought on the street in Syria for about €0.70. Good to get back to some Orwell. He's one of my favourite writers, to the extent that I can say that he has had a formative effect on my thinking. I would recommend anyone to check out some of his essays, such as 'Politics and the English Language', which are available online. I love his simple, clear writing style. He seems to really hold to the belief that you shouldn't use a big word where a smaller word will do, and that sentences should be short. A big problem with a lot of writing - and particularly academic writing, I'd hazard - is that people like to use very complicated sentence structures. Clarity suffers as a result.

Eric Blair aka George McOrwell


Coming Up For Air is the story of 45-year-old George Bowling, a man who is pissed off with his lot. It is set in the run-up to World War II. Bowling has a wife and family and a job that is unexciting, and he goes back to his village of origin to try to capture something about himself. However, the trip is entirely disillusioning and deflating because his village has been swallowed up by the march of the urban.

The book has been referenced as a forerunner to 1984, and I can see the similarity, although the society depicted in Coming Up For Air is less extreme and the story less intense. Politics are to the forefront however, and the novel deals with a newly emerged middle class of sorts in inter-war England, evoking the misery and defeat of the capitulation to wage slavery. This is my take on it, at least. There isn't really much hopeful coming out of the narrative that I can recall. But maybe there's some hope in the protagonist's vague realisation (which is far from epiphany) that the human experience contains the potential for a more meaningful existence. So there is hope but not redemption methinks.

World War II looms large over the plot, and Bowling's memories of his service in World War I colour his pessimism and apathy.


Listening to Charles Mingus Fables of Faubus in my favourite cafe... Beautiful.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Books I read in 2006

And now I present the long-awaited follow-up to 'Books I read in 2005'. Since 2005, I've been keeping a record of the books I've read each year. Unfortunately this habit kind of fell apart around the end of 2007, but I'm going to try to resurrect it as it's always good to catalogue these things, I find...

  • Introducing Critical Theory - Stuart Sims & Boris Van Loon
  • Generation of Swine - Hunter S Thompson
    (The great Gonzo journalist's take on the 80s. Lots of stuff about Iran-Contra as I recall.)

    Hunter S Thompson

  • The Plague - Albert Camus
    (Supposedly a metaphor for the French resistance to the Nazi occupation, but for me it's more effective as a straight up story about the human condition. It's quite a straightforward narrative about a town that is hit by the plague. First the disease emerges, and then the town is quarantined, and we are treated to an account of life under quarantine and the constant threat of infection. I had high hopes for this book, as The Outsider is one of my favourite books of all time. I'm glad to say that Mr. Camus did not disappoint.)
  • Tar Baby - Toni Morrison (an audio book)
    (This was an amazing book - one of the best I've come across. I've read a couple of Morrison's other books since then and they had nothing on this. But I wonder if that was because it was an audio book? Lynne Thigpen read the text and did a great job of it. But the content of the book was really great. It's centred around the interactions between six characters living in close proximity, along with flashes back and forward from this core setting. There's an elderly white rich guy; his seemingly shallow former beauty queen wife; two of his black servants, themselves a married couple; their niece, a fashion model; and an additional stowaway. The action is primarily set on an island where the elderly rich guy lives in colonial-style luxury. Each of these six characters is drawn in exquisite and believable detail, with all their motivations and inclinations immediately accessible to the reader (or listener). The story basically illustrates how the different filters through which our identity is formed - such as race, gender, age, and social class - shape our interactions with each other. The dynamic between all the characters and the little conflicts between them portray these tensions beautifully.)

    Toni Morrison

  • Reading Lolita in Tehran
    (Excellent, but hard not to notice that it's very one-sided politically.)
  • Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
    (This was a great account of a society's colonial transition.)
  • The Cherry Orchard - Anton Chekhov adapted by Tom Murphy
    (I went to see this in The Gate. Irish playwright Tom Murphy had adapted this classic to bring in some Irish lingo, most memorably when one of the characters exclaims "Merciful Hour!!")
  • Roadkill - Kinky Friedman
    (Didn't like this at all.)
  • Beloved - Toni Morrison
  • The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress - Ross O'Carroll Kelly
  • Inside Track - John Francome

    The Namesake

  • The Namesake - Jhumpa Lahiri
    (This is an absolutely beautiful book about an Indian couple who emigrate to the USA, and about their son's travails as a man who is neither Indian nor North American. Really captures the immigrant experience (not that I've first hand experience of this, of course).)
  • Firestarter - Stephen King
  • The Bonfire of the Vanities - Tom Wolfe
    (Another very worthwhile read.)
  • If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things - John McGregor
    (A promising book throughout absolutely ruined by a crappy, saccharine, cop-out of an ending. Total rubbish.)
  • Dancer - Column McCann
    (A novelisation of the life of Rudolf Nureyev. McCann is one of the best writers around, and one of the few novelists all of whose books I've read. This was very interesting but I prefer his other books. However, my Russio-Lithuanian friend Sasha assures me that he really captures what Russia is like.)

    Nureyev

  • The LBJ Brigade - William Wilson
    (An engaging account of the Vietnam conflict.)
  • Last Exit To Brooklyn
    (Bleak and brilliant - touches what it means to be human.)
  • Ghostwritten - David Mitchell
  • Clockers - Richard Price
    (A great book made into an even better film by the maestro, Spike Lee.)
  • Woody Allen - Interviews
  • From Hell - Alan Moore (a graphic novel)
    (This is about Jack the Ripper and was made into a film I really like, directed by the Hughes Brothers, who made a pretty impressive transition from portraying the African American urban ghetto of the US in 'Menace II Society', to the Whitechapel district of 19th century London.)
  • V for Vendetta - Alan Moore
  • Sunday, August 05, 2007

    Living a productive life & Capote's In Cold Blood

    What a day! It's around 6 in the afternoon, and I've been lounging in bed all day. I've done absolutely nothing since waking up except lie in my cot fooling around on the internet. I joined up to Bebo, and made up a 'how well do you know me' style quiz. I've been looking at various stuff on YouTube as well, such as clips from Apocalypse Now and some basketball. The only drawback is that I've had nothing to eat except a couple of yoghurts and a lump of bread. I'm just after getting dressed this minute, and now I think I'll go across to the shop and buy some ice-cream. I know, I know, I'm an inspiration to you all...

    Philip Seymour Hoffman as Truman Capote


    Yesterday I added a book to my 2007 list of books: Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. Earlier this summer I blogged up a list of all the books I read in 2005, with the 2006 list to follow at some point. I'll publish the 2007 list at some stage next year. It's one of those books I've been meaning to read for a long time. I wanted to read it before I saw that film about Capote that came out recently, so I must rent that out one of these days now that I'm finished. Anyway, the book is a novelised account of a real-life multiple murder that happened in 1959. The novel begins shortly before the murder and ends with the evetual death of the two perpetrators, Perry Smith and Dick Hickock. It reminded me of Steinbeck a little, although I'm not sure if that was due to the setting or the writing. Probably a little of both.

    Apparently Capote was fascinated by the crime, and he certainly brings the events he's relating to vivid life. He paints an evocative picture of US society and does a great job of getting right inside the skins of each of the characters, even those who are only present for a handful of pages of the book. He also manages to successfully tread a fine line between having some empathy with the killers (particularly Perry Smith), and also emphasising the sheer nastiness and pointlessness of the crime. He manages to draw the events in a way that draws attention to all the contradictions and contingencies of the human experience, so that, for example, it's possible to see Smith as representing all points along a spectrum from cold-hearted, brutal psychopathy to likeable, sympathetic vulnerability.

    Killers Perry Smith (top) and Richard Hickock


    I believe that Mr. Capote was gay. One thing that I wondered as I read the book was whether Smith and Hickock themselves had some manner of homosexual relationship. They seem to behave like a couple quite a bit, and Hickock has a tendency to call Smith 'honey' when he talks to him. But maybe that was just his way of talking. The book contained a reference to Smith being hassled by 'queers' in the armed forces, all right, but I don't think there were any other overt references to homosexuality. But I wondered if there was a latent current going on there. I'm not for a second suggesting that just because Capote was gay himself, this was all he was able to write about (or think about), or that he was projecting his own sexual identity onto these real-life characters. I just thought that this might have been an undercurrent in the book. I'll probably look into it myself on the interweb at some point.

    You wouldn't think I've a thesis to write with all this blogging, novel-reading, internet-browsing, in bed-lying and quiz-making-upping, but I actually have to write 15-20,000 coherent words about International Relations by 6th September. It's a serious struggle. I do put a lot of time into it, and I've a reasonable amount of work done, but I've been finding it extremely slow going. I haven't yet been able to get into any kind of flow with my writing as yet. So far, I've only come up with around 2,000 usable words, and it was an ordeal to squeeze every single one of those out onto the page.

    Nonetheless, I actually feel reasonably good about the whole thing. I have a couple of essays that I wrote during the year that I intend to plunder for more wordage, and I'm sticking with my mantra: there's plenty of time... Even though it's almost time to start counting down to the deadline in days instead of weeks... Aaaarghhh...

    Plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time plenty of time...

    Saturday, June 09, 2007

    Books I read in 2005

    And now, partly inspired by the fact that Martin Scorsese keeps lists entitled ‘Films I have seen this year’, I present the list of books I read in 2005:

    • The Autobiography of Malcolm X
      (this book has been a huge influence on me, and I’ve read it three times now.)
    • Our Man in Havana – Graham Greene
    • The Third Man – Graham Greene
    • The Basement Room (filmed as The Fallen Idol) – Graham Greene
    • Hell’s Angels – Hunter S Thompson
      (If I was forced to pick, HST is probably my favourite writer.)
    • All the President’s Men – Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein
    • The Gambler – Fyodor Dostoevsky
      (I read this in a hostel in Toronto.)

    • The Last Season – Phil Jackson
      (…and this on the plane on the way home. This is about the LA Lakers 2003-4 season, detailing the many feuds between the team's two talented stars, Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant. It’s written by their coach.)
    • Introducing Environmental Politics – Stephen Croall & William Rankin
    • Saints & Spinners – David McWilliams
      (This is a kind of forerunner to The Pope’s Children – it’s different to the more well-known version – this one was written for marketers rather than for a general readership. It wasn’t what I expected but it’s very interesting. There’s a lot of pretty cynical stuff in there. It discusses Ireland’s future demographics, predicts how consumer tastes will change, and offers ways for marketers to get a piece of the action. I really like McWilliams’ analysis of Irish society and his honesty, but I don’t share his benign view of the market. I would have a more critical view of consumerism and put more emphasis on its inadequacies and its damaging effects. This book really shows the extent to which men in suits will put a huge amount of work into pigeonholing the general citizen as a very specific target market.)

    David McWilliams


    • Chronicles, volume 1 – Bob Dylan
    • An Giall – Brendan Behan
      (Delighted with myself to have read this in the original Irish from cover to cover. Behan was not a native Irish speaker, but while in jail, he learned Irish from his cellmate. This prisoner was from Ballyferriter in the Dingle peninsula. It was in Ballyferriter that I did a week-long civil service Irish course to resurrect the Irish language within me (in 2003, I think it was).)
    • The Brothers Karamazov – Fyodor Dostoevsky

    Me at the entrance to Dostoevsky's gaff in St. Petersburg


    • Collected Short Stories – Anton Chekhov
      (I love the Russians)
    • Buddha: His Life and Thought – Karen Armstrong
      (This writer has serious credibility when it comes to religion. She spent seven years as a Catholic nun, has received a Muslim Media Award, and has taught in some school for the study of Judaism. I’ve seen her speak, and she has a great take on religion and how it interacts with politics and society.)
    • Wilt – Tom Sharpe
    • Cape Clear Island: Its People and Landscape – Eamon Lankford
      (This is about an Irish language-speaking island in Cork that I have often visited, and is one of my favourite places in the world. I think it’s the most southerly inhabited point in Ireland – the most southerly point of all is the nearby Fastnet lighthouse, which casts its light over the island at regular intervals.)
    • The Hard Life – Flann O’Brien
    • The Sandman Companion – Hy Bender
    • The Prophet – Kahlil Gibran

    Lebanese writer Kahlil Gibran


    • Smoke and Mirrors – Neil Gaiman
    • Vision and Transformation – Sangharakshita
      (A book about the Buddhist eightfold path.)
    • Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas – Hunter S Thompson
      (200 pages of drug fuelled insanity – very un-Buddhist.)
    • The Comedians – Graham Greene
    • Twelve Bar Blues – Patrick Neate
    • Justice Seeker: An Anthology in Tribute to Malcolm X – James B Gwynne (ed.)
    • Pork Pie Hat – Peter Straub
      (an audio book.)
    • Down and Out in Paris and London – George Orwell
      (one of my favourite books.)
    • Death of a Salesman – Arthur Miller
    • The Crucible – Arthur Miller

    The great Arthur Miller


    So that comes to an average of around two books a month. Obviously, now that I'm a student, reading has become pretty essential. But I’ve always been a big reader. I used to eat books when I was a child, and I never really take any length of a train or bus journey without a book to read. I fell out of the habit a couple of years ago, but got back into it with the help of a book group and have never looked back.

    Much better than TV...

    Tuesday, June 13, 2006

    The book group

    Three or four years ago, I set up a book group along with a few friends in the office where I worked. The premise was simple - each of us would read the same book over the course of about a month, and then we would get together to discuss this book over a few pints. Most of the sessions took place in O’Neill’s pub on Pearse St. We only read fiction: mostly novels, and one or two short stories. Each month, somebody would suggest a book, on the basis that it was reasonably short to keep things accessible. War and Peace or The Brothers Karamazov would have quickly killed off the idea because of their length.

    O'Neill's of Pearse St.



    The book group was a great success. There was a hard core of people who read each book, and at one meeting there were about twelve people present. We even held a Kris Kindle of books at Christmas. It soon became apparent at the gatherings that the atmosphere was informal and social. I used to refer to it as ‘going for pints with a theme’, because that was really all we were doing. At each meeting we would go around the table, and each person would give his or her first impressions of the book to be discussed. This then developed into the usual pub discussion, but with a little more focus and energy. Everybody was familiar with the material being discussed, and had given it a little thought before the meeting, which made for a fascinating discussion. It never ceased to amaze me how somebody else’s perspective could open up a whole new way of looking at a book with which I thought I was pretty familiar.

    We went through several books over the course of the group’s existence. Of course, as soon as I try to remember all of the books we read, my mind goes blank. But after some thought I have come up with a list of just some of the books we discussed:

    H G Wells - The Country of the Blind - USA
    Patrick Suskind - Perfume - Germany
    Margaret Atwood - Surfacing - Canada
    James Joyce - The Dead - Ireland
    Evelyn Waugh - Vile Bodies - UK
    Paulo Coehlo - The Alchemist - Brazil
    Jann Martel - The Life of Pi - author born in Spain but has national links all over the place

    As you can see, there was a range of authors of different nationalities, eras and styles. This book group was one of the most stimulating projects I have ever been involved in.

    Booker prize-winner The Life of Pi



    Around this time, there were also a couple of poetry nights organised by people in the office. At first, this may sound like a totally bizarre, pretentious and unappealing idea. But the concept worked incredibly well. The first poetry night took place in Maguire’s pub on Baggot St. There were a group of about 15 to 20 people in attendence, and we had a large alcove entirely to ourselves. We brought along little books of poetry, and poems printed out from the internet, and then sat drinking for an hour or so before the poetry began. A poet named Emer Davis, who had organised the event, stood up and read a couple of poems of her own, and then she was followed by other members of the crowd. In the end, everybody present had read out at least one poem, however reluctant they had been at the outset. I read a few verses from Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven. Blake was also in attendance:

    To see a World in a Grain of Sand
    And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
    Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
    And Eternity in an hour.

    By the end of the night, a guitar had appeared, and the poems had turned into songs. In true democratic fashion, the guitar was passed around the room, and we heard musical poetry from Dylan and others, as well as a few originals. I heard a couple of really impressive Limericks as well (and one or two obscene ones).

    There was a young lady from Bright
    Who could travel faster than light
    She went off one day
    In a relative way
    And arrived back the previous night.

    A second poetry reading was held months later in honour of Anti-Racism week, which included Refugee Blues by W H Auden and a few protest songs by Phil Ochs. It might seem like an unusual idea, but it makes for a great fundraiser as well as a great night out.

    A Tale of Two Cities



    The reason I’m recalling these heady days of boozy literature appreciation is that the old book group is now in the process of being resurrected. We have yet to have a proper meeting, as it is difficult to drag together a critical mass of people now that the original group have been dispersed to different offices and locations. We met last week to discuss Pulitzer prize-winner Jhumpa Lahiri’s work of genius, The Namesake, but the discussion of this book was postponed due to cancellations and failures of email (long story). We might revisit this book in the future, but at the next gathering of the book group, which will take place in July, Charles Dickens’ classic A Tale of Two Cities has been chosen. All are welcome to join the group, so if you’re interested just drop a comment after this post and I’ll get in touch or put you on the mailing list.