Forster, E.M. Maurice. 1914. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. 1974.*
I checked this out at the library around the time Amazon pulled it from its ranking system. So yeah, it's a book with a gay character who's unhappy and finds happiness and there's some other stuff in there as well about the shifts in life in England, business vs. landed gentry class, blah blah blah. That part is pretty familiar territory, but I'd never read any Forster before, so that was nice. I enjoyed this, because it's a pretty good book.
Kipinis, Laura. Against Love: A Polemic. New York: Vintage Books, 2008.*
This would have been funnier as an article instead of a full-length book. I remember enjoying it, but I really don't remember much about it.
Lessing, Doris. A Proper Marriage. 1966. London: Grafton, 1985.
I like Doris Lessing a lot and bought this, kind of as a joke, on my second wedding anniversary. It says right on the cover that it's a powerful novel about the disintegration of a marriage and a society. And it is. I was depressed enough to die (not kill myself, just ..... stop living.) after reading this, but I like how she challenges assumptions and types and then challenges and smashes and critiques some more. Since I know you'll never read this, I'll go ahead and spoil the ending for you: the protagonist leaves her husband and daughter for Communism.
Levine, Abby and Sarah Levine. Sometimes I Wish I Were Mindy. Middletown: Weekly Reader Books, 1986.
So what if this is only 32 pages long? I've loved this book since I got it in the first grade, and when I found it in a box last week, I just had to read it out loud to Cody. Yes, I even held it up so that he could see the illustrations (by Blanche Sims, in case you were wondering). Our unnamed narrator wishes she were like Mindy, with a mansion and call waiting and exotic vacations, but she learns to appreciate the things that she does have and realizes that their families are equal in love.
Stone, Brain, trans. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. 1959. Middlesex: Penguin, 1972.
I didn't get it. I usually don't comprehend anything in verse form. Blegh. Maybe I'll try again later. It's a nice little ...... thing.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
June's book list
Hello. It's that time again.
You know how I said this month would be better? Well, I did. And I read diligently. And I read some books I'd been meaning to read. And I finished some books I'd started a while ago. And this month's book list takes up nearly half a page in my notebook. And I derive a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment from that.
But: I started typing up the unhelpful reviews for these books and I realize why I've been in such a bad mood. This stuff is terrible. I mean, it's ridiculous. A couple of nights ago I went home from work in a crazy-foul mood and cut off 5 inches of my hair. By myself. I assumed it was hormonal. Then I checked my planner and felt like a moron--this was all me. Yup.
So while I try to calmly pretend that this is really no big deal (and most people think it isn't because my hair looks fine and I seem to have lost the ability to shock anyone anymore), I do have to admit that some of my deep-rooted dissatisfaction must be coming from the pitiful reading month. I like reading and I'm disappointed when a book turns out to be a complete waste of my time.
Capote, Truman. Breakfast at Tiffany's. 1958. New York: Modern Library, 1994.*
At the risk of alienating more than half of this blog's readership, I'm going to be completely honest. I did not like this. I not only did not enjoy this book, I thought it was a bad book. A stupid story. With ridiculous characters. Who do not age well. At all. And maybe that's the point. Maybe I'm supposed to be enthralled with this deeply flawed and wounded character and realize that all of her incredibly off-putting actions are just defense mechanisms that I'm supposed to pity. But I do not. This book stinks. Thank you. I feel better now.
Dietz, Laura. In the Tenth House. New York: Crown, 2007.*
I saw the spine on the bookcase at the library and checked this out. The beginning was slow, the middle was riveting, and then I was just mad. Horrible, pointless book. The plot was ridiculous and tragic and the characters were upper class British people in the Victorian age. Oh help me. I thought I'd take a chance and judge a book by its cover. That will not be happening again soon.
Gibran, Kahlil. The Prophet. 1923. New York: Knopf, 1972.
Well. It was pretty. And brief. I can cross it off the list. The drawings were cool, but can we really get that excited about someone who writes and draws. Didn't Blake already do this? With colors? Am I too jaded?
Traig, Jennifer. Well Enough Alone: A Cultural History of My Hypochondria. New York: Riverheard Books, 2008.*
Oh my goodness, who knew this neurotic hypochondriac would be the bright spot in this month's reading?! It's gross, it's painful, it's hilarious. I liked her book about her OCD, and this is even better because there's no anorexia involved. This made me laugh out loud until I cried. Absolutely fantastic (Cody, who was usually trying to sleep in bed while I was enjoying this, may have a different perspective). And educational. No, really!
Weir, Alison. Queen Isabella: Treachery, Adultery, and Murder in Medieval England. New York: Ballentine Books, 2005.
I'm pretty sad I paid money for this. It was on sale, but not like "sale section of Barnes & Noble" or "library basement used book sale" sale. This biography was not very good. Objectively speaking, I can say it was awful. Because there's revisionist history, and there's feminist perspective, and then there's Alison Weir typing away sentences that end with prepositions while wearing her "I ♥ Isabella" t-shirt. I'm fine with you liking the subject of your work--that's probably a good thing. But when you spend all your time trying you justify her actions and refute the work of historians and scholars no one has ever heard of (mostly because your subject is a little irrelevant), you're going to lose me. Give the readers some credit: we get it. It was the 1300s. Disembowelment happened. Whatever. Sadly, this was the first biography focusing solely on Queen Isabella in roughly 150 years. Bummer that it was.....this.
So. I'm more optimistic about July. I'm currently reading Still Life by A.S. Byatt and A Proper Marriage by Doris Lessing and I think I'm going to ask Cody to recommend one of his nonfiction books about food. I'm also open to your suggestions because I very clearly need some help with picking books.
You know how I said this month would be better? Well, I did. And I read diligently. And I read some books I'd been meaning to read. And I finished some books I'd started a while ago. And this month's book list takes up nearly half a page in my notebook. And I derive a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment from that.
But: I started typing up the unhelpful reviews for these books and I realize why I've been in such a bad mood. This stuff is terrible. I mean, it's ridiculous. A couple of nights ago I went home from work in a crazy-foul mood and cut off 5 inches of my hair. By myself. I assumed it was hormonal. Then I checked my planner and felt like a moron--this was all me. Yup.
So while I try to calmly pretend that this is really no big deal (and most people think it isn't because my hair looks fine and I seem to have lost the ability to shock anyone anymore), I do have to admit that some of my deep-rooted dissatisfaction must be coming from the pitiful reading month. I like reading and I'm disappointed when a book turns out to be a complete waste of my time.
Capote, Truman. Breakfast at Tiffany's. 1958. New York: Modern Library, 1994.*
At the risk of alienating more than half of this blog's readership, I'm going to be completely honest. I did not like this. I not only did not enjoy this book, I thought it was a bad book. A stupid story. With ridiculous characters. Who do not age well. At all. And maybe that's the point. Maybe I'm supposed to be enthralled with this deeply flawed and wounded character and realize that all of her incredibly off-putting actions are just defense mechanisms that I'm supposed to pity. But I do not. This book stinks. Thank you. I feel better now.
Dietz, Laura. In the Tenth House. New York: Crown, 2007.*
I saw the spine on the bookcase at the library and checked this out. The beginning was slow, the middle was riveting, and then I was just mad. Horrible, pointless book. The plot was ridiculous and tragic and the characters were upper class British people in the Victorian age. Oh help me. I thought I'd take a chance and judge a book by its cover. That will not be happening again soon.
Gibran, Kahlil. The Prophet. 1923. New York: Knopf, 1972.
Well. It was pretty. And brief. I can cross it off the list. The drawings were cool, but can we really get that excited about someone who writes and draws. Didn't Blake already do this? With colors? Am I too jaded?
Traig, Jennifer. Well Enough Alone: A Cultural History of My Hypochondria. New York: Riverheard Books, 2008.*
Oh my goodness, who knew this neurotic hypochondriac would be the bright spot in this month's reading?! It's gross, it's painful, it's hilarious. I liked her book about her OCD, and this is even better because there's no anorexia involved. This made me laugh out loud until I cried. Absolutely fantastic (Cody, who was usually trying to sleep in bed while I was enjoying this, may have a different perspective). And educational. No, really!
Weir, Alison. Queen Isabella: Treachery, Adultery, and Murder in Medieval England. New York: Ballentine Books, 2005.
I'm pretty sad I paid money for this. It was on sale, but not like "sale section of Barnes & Noble" or "library basement used book sale" sale. This biography was not very good. Objectively speaking, I can say it was awful. Because there's revisionist history, and there's feminist perspective, and then there's Alison Weir typing away sentences that end with prepositions while wearing her "I ♥ Isabella" t-shirt. I'm fine with you liking the subject of your work--that's probably a good thing. But when you spend all your time trying you justify her actions and refute the work of historians and scholars no one has ever heard of (mostly because your subject is a little irrelevant), you're going to lose me. Give the readers some credit: we get it. It was the 1300s. Disembowelment happened. Whatever. Sadly, this was the first biography focusing solely on Queen Isabella in roughly 150 years. Bummer that it was.....this.
So. I'm more optimistic about July. I'm currently reading Still Life by A.S. Byatt and A Proper Marriage by Doris Lessing and I think I'm going to ask Cody to recommend one of his nonfiction books about food. I'm also open to your suggestions because I very clearly need some help with picking books.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
May's book list
I was hoping I could just skip this, but after doing this for 3 years it seems like it would be wrong to not do so.
So: I finished 2 books in May.
I was busy. Not incredibly busy, but busy.
And I started 5 or 6 books.
Basically May was just a dumb month.
Lessing, Doris. Alfred and Emily. New York: HarperCollins, 2008.*
Doris Lessing, one of my heroes for being awesome, tries to imagine the life her parents would have had if World War I had never taken place because their lives were so drastically changed by it. So the first half of the book is the story of that. And then the second half is how their lives really were, and her life and her brother's. I swear, even the arranging of the words is just sad. Very sad. Very good, very interesting. Very sad.
Rice, Ann. Lasher. New York: Ballentine Books, 1995.
And.... the Ann Rice book frenzy is over. See you in another 4 or 5 years.
So: I finished 2 books in May.
I was busy. Not incredibly busy, but busy.
And I started 5 or 6 books.
Basically May was just a dumb month.
Lessing, Doris. Alfred and Emily. New York: HarperCollins, 2008.*
Doris Lessing, one of my heroes for being awesome, tries to imagine the life her parents would have had if World War I had never taken place because their lives were so drastically changed by it. So the first half of the book is the story of that. And then the second half is how their lives really were, and her life and her brother's. I swear, even the arranging of the words is just sad. Very sad. Very good, very interesting. Very sad.
Rice, Ann. Lasher. New York: Ballentine Books, 1995.
And.... the Ann Rice book frenzy is over. See you in another 4 or 5 years.
Friday, May 1, 2009
April books
Congratulations, you made it through the cruelest month.
As your reward, I will treat you to the list of books I finished last month alongside my unhelpful reviews.....just like I do every month.
DeLillo, Don. The Body Artist. New York: Scribner, 2001.*
I like the way Don DeLillo writes, but 800 or so pages of good writing is still 800 or so pages to slog through. So I checked this out solely because it was 124 pages. I liked it. It was sad and disturbing, but good.
Hamilton, John Maxwell. Cassanova Was a Book Lover: And Other Naked Truths and Provocative Curiosities about the Writing, Selling, and Reading of Books. New York: Penguin.
My friend, Kelly, gave this to me as a college graduation present. I thought it was time for a re-reading of this lovely book about books. Those are some of my favorite ones.
Rice, Anne. Pandora. New York: Ballantine, 1998.
It was entertaining bedtime reading.....and then you fall asleep.
Vowell, Sarah. The Wordy Shipmates. New York: Riverhead, 2008.*
Doesn't live up to the hype, but I still really enjoyed it. The way Vowell writes makes the casually informative feel of the book really fun, but I don't know how well it will wear 3 or 4 years from now. The contemporary references and comparisons are a bigger detractor than a help, which is a shame.
As your reward, I will treat you to the list of books I finished last month alongside my unhelpful reviews.....just like I do every month.
DeLillo, Don. The Body Artist. New York: Scribner, 2001.*
I like the way Don DeLillo writes, but 800 or so pages of good writing is still 800 or so pages to slog through. So I checked this out solely because it was 124 pages. I liked it. It was sad and disturbing, but good.
Hamilton, John Maxwell. Cassanova Was a Book Lover: And Other Naked Truths and Provocative Curiosities about the Writing, Selling, and Reading of Books. New York: Penguin.
My friend, Kelly, gave this to me as a college graduation present. I thought it was time for a re-reading of this lovely book about books. Those are some of my favorite ones.
Rice, Anne. Pandora. New York: Ballantine, 1998.
It was entertaining bedtime reading.....and then you fall asleep.
Vowell, Sarah. The Wordy Shipmates. New York: Riverhead, 2008.*
Doesn't live up to the hype, but I still really enjoyed it. The way Vowell writes makes the casually informative feel of the book really fun, but I don't know how well it will wear 3 or 4 years from now. The contemporary references and comparisons are a bigger detractor than a help, which is a shame.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Book list for January 2009
Applehof, Mary. Worms Eat My Garbage. Kalamazoo: Flower Press, 2nd ed. 1997*
So. Not to gross you out, but I've been trying to compost since this summer, and I've had worms in there too. This went on in the storage closet outside. And then there were some grubworm problems. It was disgusting. And then I read in this helpful little book that people with asthma shouldn't really be trying to compost anyway because of the accompanying mold. Well...fine. After reading this, I know a whole lot about vermiposting and why it's not really for me. At least for right now.
Byatt, A.S. A Whistling Woman. New York: Knopf, 2002.*
This is my tenth A. S. Byatt book! She's so great. She believes in happy endings.
Fowles, John. The French Lieutenant's Woman. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1969.
Eh. I liked it. I read it. I wasn't impressed by it. I couldn't suspend my disbelief. It was still pretty good and I'm glad I read it.
Goldsmith, Sheherazade, ed. A Slice of Organic Life. New York: DK Publishing, 2007*
This is (very clearly) an overview. Anyone who would try to use this as an actual guide would be in deep, organic hog poop. Cody picked it up on a whim at the library. Some parts of it were pretty informative (have a windowsill herb garden) and other parts were ridiculous (why not raise geese?). My favorite parts were the pictures: beautiful, sunshiny, harvesty pictures of things you can grow and raise and preserve. I read this during December and Janurary. It will have to hold me over until springtime.
So. Not to gross you out, but I've been trying to compost since this summer, and I've had worms in there too. This went on in the storage closet outside. And then there were some grubworm problems. It was disgusting. And then I read in this helpful little book that people with asthma shouldn't really be trying to compost anyway because of the accompanying mold. Well...fine. After reading this, I know a whole lot about vermiposting and why it's not really for me. At least for right now.
Byatt, A.S. A Whistling Woman. New York: Knopf, 2002.*
This is my tenth A. S. Byatt book! She's so great. She believes in happy endings.
Fowles, John. The French Lieutenant's Woman. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1969.
Eh. I liked it. I read it. I wasn't impressed by it. I couldn't suspend my disbelief. It was still pretty good and I'm glad I read it.
Goldsmith, Sheherazade, ed. A Slice of Organic Life. New York: DK Publishing, 2007*
This is (very clearly) an overview. Anyone who would try to use this as an actual guide would be in deep, organic hog poop. Cody picked it up on a whim at the library. Some parts of it were pretty informative (have a windowsill herb garden) and other parts were ridiculous (why not raise geese?). My favorite parts were the pictures: beautiful, sunshiny, harvesty pictures of things you can grow and raise and preserve. I read this during December and Janurary. It will have to hold me over until springtime.
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