It's been ages. Book post!
I haven't written anything on here in so long. Stuff has happened, but all I really care about right now is banging out a list of book reviews, because I want to remember what I read this summer-- it makes me feel like I've accomplished something not entirely work/school/socially-related! Which is to say, something entirely for my introverted self.
First off, Lolita! Nabokov is incredible as a writer, and incredible as a linguist, because he writes easily as well as Mark Twain and English is his second language. And yes, he does write English-- I'm fairly certain it would be near impossible to translate Lolita and not miss everything that makes it wonderful. Moreover, I wish I understood a bit of French, because an awfully large amount of the book IS in French, because the narrator/main character is French. I feel like I missed out by not understanding any of his foreign asides. Anyhow, this book is both deeply disturbing and absolutely beautiful. It's told from the perspective of a pedophile, and concerns the love of his life.
Next, my cousin gave me Rant by Chuck Palahniuk for my birthday. My only previous experience with Palahniuk was the first few pages of Invisible Monsters, after which I put the book down because the story made me feel gross. It's the same with Rant. Utterly, utterly gross. The difference is that I made it through the whole book, and it turns out the grossness only lasted halfway, after which the story turned into a amazingly crafted work. It's told through monologues by various characters as they describe this kid called Rant Casey. Palahniuk, under all the shock-factor descriptions, knows how to weave a story, and did it damn well. I would recommend this book... but only to people who don't like to eat while they read.
Um, and re-read The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho, which surprisingly disappointed me. I remembered having my eyes opened by that book, but on the second go-through, it just seems preachy and new-agey. I think after you know the story it might be less interesting. Oddly, it's written in the same general way as Rant, in that it uses character monologues to describe a person who never gets her own say in the story. Very, very different book. Still one of my favorites.
Now I'm in the midst of The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay, which Adam recommended. It's about a kid growing up in South Africa around WWII, who decides he wants to be a boxer. It's not really about boxing. The story itself makes me happy, but I don't think it's written very well. Every once in a while I want to smack the main character, because all he ever talks about is how he's become this famous figure in his home town, and about how "the power of one" is what lets him do it. In the first part of the book, everything bad happens to him. In the second part of the book, everything gets magically better. Overall it reads like a novel meant to empower kids to do their best, which I suppose it is. Beside all that it's about lovely things-- cacti and hills and music and chickens-- and when it IS about boxing, Courtenay makes it interesting.
I'm running out of things in the house that I want to read. I need a trip to the library, and when I do finally go, I hope to get my hands on Enduring Love or Atonement by Ian McK... whatsit, and Eleven Minutes, another Coelho. And more Nabokov. And a few other things I can't remember off the top of my head.
First off, Lolita! Nabokov is incredible as a writer, and incredible as a linguist, because he writes easily as well as Mark Twain and English is his second language. And yes, he does write English-- I'm fairly certain it would be near impossible to translate Lolita and not miss everything that makes it wonderful. Moreover, I wish I understood a bit of French, because an awfully large amount of the book IS in French, because the narrator/main character is French. I feel like I missed out by not understanding any of his foreign asides. Anyhow, this book is both deeply disturbing and absolutely beautiful. It's told from the perspective of a pedophile, and concerns the love of his life.
Next, my cousin gave me Rant by Chuck Palahniuk for my birthday. My only previous experience with Palahniuk was the first few pages of Invisible Monsters, after which I put the book down because the story made me feel gross. It's the same with Rant. Utterly, utterly gross. The difference is that I made it through the whole book, and it turns out the grossness only lasted halfway, after which the story turned into a amazingly crafted work. It's told through monologues by various characters as they describe this kid called Rant Casey. Palahniuk, under all the shock-factor descriptions, knows how to weave a story, and did it damn well. I would recommend this book... but only to people who don't like to eat while they read.
Um, and re-read The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho, which surprisingly disappointed me. I remembered having my eyes opened by that book, but on the second go-through, it just seems preachy and new-agey. I think after you know the story it might be less interesting. Oddly, it's written in the same general way as Rant, in that it uses character monologues to describe a person who never gets her own say in the story. Very, very different book. Still one of my favorites.
Now I'm in the midst of The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay, which Adam recommended. It's about a kid growing up in South Africa around WWII, who decides he wants to be a boxer. It's not really about boxing. The story itself makes me happy, but I don't think it's written very well. Every once in a while I want to smack the main character, because all he ever talks about is how he's become this famous figure in his home town, and about how "the power of one" is what lets him do it. In the first part of the book, everything bad happens to him. In the second part of the book, everything gets magically better. Overall it reads like a novel meant to empower kids to do their best, which I suppose it is. Beside all that it's about lovely things-- cacti and hills and music and chickens-- and when it IS about boxing, Courtenay makes it interesting.
I'm running out of things in the house that I want to read. I need a trip to the library, and when I do finally go, I hope to get my hands on Enduring Love or Atonement by Ian McK... whatsit, and Eleven Minutes, another Coelho. And more Nabokov. And a few other things I can't remember off the top of my head.