Books 6-10 of 2009
6. The Reader by Bernhard Schlink (218 pgs)
I wanted to read this before seeing the movie. It was a good story, but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to believe her "reasons" for not telling the truth. I liked the question, "What would you have done?"
7. Three Junes by Julia Glass (353 pgs)
I kept putting this book down, but only because I was going to be sad when it ended. There isn't anything life changing here, just characters I really grew to care about, interesting storylines about family and identity, and some of it was set in Scotland, how can you lose. I'm just happy to see that Julia Glass has written more since this, which was her first novel and went on to win the National Book Award. I hope it wasn't a fluke!
"All I did for years, all I remember doing, was practice. Practice: such a limp word for the context. You do not, if you are serious, practice your instrument. You flay, eviscerate, excoriate the thing until it surrenders its thingness, until its carapace cracks open and it bleeds. Even a voice. You belabor it until any sound but the sound of that instrument is, to your ears, gelatinous babble." -Mal from Three Junes by Julia Glass (144)
"'I hate it when people talk about twists of fate,' Anna liked to say. 'When it comes to life, we spin our own yarn, and where we end up is really, in fact, where we always intended to be.'" -Three Junes (286)
8. My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist by Mark Leyner (150 pgs)
This book is sheer fun to read. It is like every word is equally important or not important at all, depending on what you are feeling at that particular moment. I feel like this made the most sense when I looked at it sideways, when I read it through the corner of my eye, and now that I'm thinking directly about it of course I can't explain it to you. I loved the little blurb about the car bomb and the section about the jack teagarden pavilion. I feel like there are so many memorable phrases that make just as much sense out of context as in, and I probably will keep it just to read in a weird mood again.
9. Elegy by Beau M.K. Prichard (333 pgs)
A mystery involving an apparent suicide, set in Seattle. First of all I should say that I do not typically read mysteries, but this one kept me interested. I read it because I went to college with the author, and found out he had written a book when I wanted to know what he was up to. I particularly like the character of Kevin Adams, mostly because of a very small detail which I'm not even sure was intentional - every time he feels something, he follows it immediately by analyzing his emotion. I thought I was the only person who did this.....
10. The Collector by John Fowles (320 pgs)
This isn't nearly as good as The Magus, which I read last year, and is far more a masterpiece. I know this book was one of Fowles' first, and was significant at the time, but just wasn't mind-blowing for me. It is about a butterfly collector from the lower-middle class who comes into some money, buys a house in the country, and kidnaps an art student who he has had his eye on for a while. It doesn't go where you might think, and seems more a commentary on social class, education, and money. The second section of the book is a repeat of the same story but told through Miranda's journal. The end in particular is creepy.
I wanted to read this before seeing the movie. It was a good story, but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to believe her "reasons" for not telling the truth. I liked the question, "What would you have done?"
7. Three Junes by Julia Glass (353 pgs)
I kept putting this book down, but only because I was going to be sad when it ended. There isn't anything life changing here, just characters I really grew to care about, interesting storylines about family and identity, and some of it was set in Scotland, how can you lose. I'm just happy to see that Julia Glass has written more since this, which was her first novel and went on to win the National Book Award. I hope it wasn't a fluke!
"All I did for years, all I remember doing, was practice. Practice: such a limp word for the context. You do not, if you are serious, practice your instrument. You flay, eviscerate, excoriate the thing until it surrenders its thingness, until its carapace cracks open and it bleeds. Even a voice. You belabor it until any sound but the sound of that instrument is, to your ears, gelatinous babble." -Mal from Three Junes by Julia Glass (144)
"'I hate it when people talk about twists of fate,' Anna liked to say. 'When it comes to life, we spin our own yarn, and where we end up is really, in fact, where we always intended to be.'" -Three Junes (286)
8. My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist by Mark Leyner (150 pgs)
This book is sheer fun to read. It is like every word is equally important or not important at all, depending on what you are feeling at that particular moment. I feel like this made the most sense when I looked at it sideways, when I read it through the corner of my eye, and now that I'm thinking directly about it of course I can't explain it to you. I loved the little blurb about the car bomb and the section about the jack teagarden pavilion. I feel like there are so many memorable phrases that make just as much sense out of context as in, and I probably will keep it just to read in a weird mood again.
9. Elegy by Beau M.K. Prichard (333 pgs)
A mystery involving an apparent suicide, set in Seattle. First of all I should say that I do not typically read mysteries, but this one kept me interested. I read it because I went to college with the author, and found out he had written a book when I wanted to know what he was up to. I particularly like the character of Kevin Adams, mostly because of a very small detail which I'm not even sure was intentional - every time he feels something, he follows it immediately by analyzing his emotion. I thought I was the only person who did this.....
10. The Collector by John Fowles (320 pgs)
This isn't nearly as good as The Magus, which I read last year, and is far more a masterpiece. I know this book was one of Fowles' first, and was significant at the time, but just wasn't mind-blowing for me. It is about a butterfly collector from the lower-middle class who comes into some money, buys a house in the country, and kidnaps an art student who he has had his eye on for a while. It doesn't go where you might think, and seems more a commentary on social class, education, and money. The second section of the book is a repeat of the same story but told through Miranda's journal. The end in particular is creepy.