Chapter 36 in which I rant about literature and ask a favor
I've noticed that the books I stumble into on my own tend to be ok but not spectacular while the books people recommend to me are awesome. For example: Infinite Jest, House of Leaves, The Poisonwood Bible, The Color Purple, Six of One, The Princess Bride, The passion of Michel Foucoult, Vonnegut, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Ursula K. LeGuin, The Monkeywrench Gang, Lamb, Catch-22, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, An Evening of Long Goodbyes, Life of Pi and Flyboy: Action Hero Comes with Gasmask were all excellent and were all recommended to me by people I know as opposed to literary critics or the internet. Though, Amazon's custom ads have spawned a few worthy purchases.
So, could you guys recommend some good fiction for me to read? I will even return the favor by recommending anything I just listed and so continuing the tradition of an infinite number of readers garnered through word of mouth as opposed to the unpleasant looking ads they have for books at BART stops.
I have plenty of good non-fiction to read right now but I'm running very low on fiction. Without your help I might have to resort to crappy serialized novels with repetitive plots and predictable outcomes. Speaking of which, I hate Stephen Kind and Chuck Palahniuk. Not as people, obviously I've never met them, but as authors. With a fiery burning passion. Only matched by my disappointment about how Rita May Brown totally sold out and the raw feminist anger of Rubyfruit Jungle and the pure literary talent in Six on One gets turned into a series of mysteries where cats are the central characters and a couple of supposedly political novels about lesbians who go on and on about how noble and brave they're being by just coming out of the freaking closet and then facing the minor slices of rude behavior by homophobic former friends and co-workers. I mean, really. Two excellent books and everything else I've read by her is just lame. If I wanted to read about social snubs motivated by homophobia, well, I just wouldn't want to read about that because there are so many more engaging topics out there in the world. Dealing with intense homophobia, ok. Self-loathing, coming out in a small, violent town, actually working to make a difference, activism, queer erotica, the disproportionate amount of queer sex workers or really anything other than minor social snubs, that's ok. Is talent without meaning worthy? I guess on the other end of the spectrum you have Upton Sinclair and his endless number of terrible books all designed to bring about a socialist revolution. Oh well, Upton. At least you got the Food and Drug Act. That's a little bit like a socialist revolution, except without the socialism or the revolution aspects.
Also, I was sad to find out that David Foster Wallace committed suicide but if you read his books you can completely understand it because the overwhelming depression was so present in all of them, and yet they were not necessarily depressing books. Infinite Jest is one of the most amazing and beautiful books I've read in the last year. It's kind of like how if you listen to Tori Amos's albums closely enough you already know that she was raped because it's there in all the music. Well, not her last two albums. But the earlier ones. David Foster Wallace is like that. Like Virginia Woolfe. Read her work and then tell me that you're surprised at the way she ended.
I think the best aspects of the relationship I've had with my father are through books. Either talking about them or recommending them. I almost always love the ones he gives me or tells me I should read. I should probably shoot him an e-mail sometime soon.
By the way, White Teeth by Zadie Smith is one I just sort of stumbled into but it happened to be excellent and I suggest you read it. Parts of it made me laugh out loud on the bus, provoking odd stares. How I became Stupid is another good one that came by accident. It's translated from French, but if you happen to speak French you should read both copies and tell me how close the translation is to the primary text. Just wondering. Thank god for thrift stores and used book shops.
I should really be writing a paper right now...
So, could you guys recommend some good fiction for me to read? I will even return the favor by recommending anything I just listed and so continuing the tradition of an infinite number of readers garnered through word of mouth as opposed to the unpleasant looking ads they have for books at BART stops.
I have plenty of good non-fiction to read right now but I'm running very low on fiction. Without your help I might have to resort to crappy serialized novels with repetitive plots and predictable outcomes. Speaking of which, I hate Stephen Kind and Chuck Palahniuk. Not as people, obviously I've never met them, but as authors. With a fiery burning passion. Only matched by my disappointment about how Rita May Brown totally sold out and the raw feminist anger of Rubyfruit Jungle and the pure literary talent in Six on One gets turned into a series of mysteries where cats are the central characters and a couple of supposedly political novels about lesbians who go on and on about how noble and brave they're being by just coming out of the freaking closet and then facing the minor slices of rude behavior by homophobic former friends and co-workers. I mean, really. Two excellent books and everything else I've read by her is just lame. If I wanted to read about social snubs motivated by homophobia, well, I just wouldn't want to read about that because there are so many more engaging topics out there in the world. Dealing with intense homophobia, ok. Self-loathing, coming out in a small, violent town, actually working to make a difference, activism, queer erotica, the disproportionate amount of queer sex workers or really anything other than minor social snubs, that's ok. Is talent without meaning worthy? I guess on the other end of the spectrum you have Upton Sinclair and his endless number of terrible books all designed to bring about a socialist revolution. Oh well, Upton. At least you got the Food and Drug Act. That's a little bit like a socialist revolution, except without the socialism or the revolution aspects.
Also, I was sad to find out that David Foster Wallace committed suicide but if you read his books you can completely understand it because the overwhelming depression was so present in all of them, and yet they were not necessarily depressing books. Infinite Jest is one of the most amazing and beautiful books I've read in the last year. It's kind of like how if you listen to Tori Amos's albums closely enough you already know that she was raped because it's there in all the music. Well, not her last two albums. But the earlier ones. David Foster Wallace is like that. Like Virginia Woolfe. Read her work and then tell me that you're surprised at the way she ended.
I think the best aspects of the relationship I've had with my father are through books. Either talking about them or recommending them. I almost always love the ones he gives me or tells me I should read. I should probably shoot him an e-mail sometime soon.
By the way, White Teeth by Zadie Smith is one I just sort of stumbled into but it happened to be excellent and I suggest you read it. Parts of it made me laugh out loud on the bus, provoking odd stares. How I became Stupid is another good one that came by accident. It's translated from French, but if you happen to speak French you should read both copies and tell me how close the translation is to the primary text. Just wondering. Thank god for thrift stores and used book shops.
I should really be writing a paper right now...