Happy September morning!
I love September weather.
Glorious.
Can you think of a better way to celebrate this event than with a rehashing of what I read in August?
That's what I thought.
August was a great reading month.
Beaujon, Andew. Body Piercing Saved My Life: Inside the Phenomenon of Christian Rock. Cambridge: Da Capo, 2006.*
Cody checked this out, and then I read it when he was through. So this guy decides to explore the Christian music industry and the awards shows and the producers and so on and so on. It's insular bubble-living at its best. It deals with how this started, how it works, and why 80 billion bands are doing the 'we're not a Christian band, we're just Christians in a band' thing because so much of Christian music is just....unenjoyable. (This is just me. And my opinion. I know a lot of people like it for its uplifting message. I am, in fact, married to a man who has actually uttered the phrase, "You know what praise and worship song I wanted to hear today?" after coming home from work.) The thing about the book that will probably stick with me the most is the fact that he was smack in the middle of this year-long project before anyone tried to talk to him about his faith. He spent 6 months talking to people about their Christian bands, their Christian production companies, their Christian music ministries, and their Christian artist retreats, etc., before a single Christian talked to him about his own faith.
It's spelled F-A-I-L-U-R-E, bretheren.
The Tyral of Rebecca Nurse: Transcripts from the Salem Withcraft Trials of 1692. Compiled by Donald Daly. Salem: New England & Virginia Company/Nova Anglia Press.
Back when I was in college, some professors would clean out their clutter by taking books they didn't want or need, leaving them in a pile outside their offices, and waiting for humanities and fine arts majors to forage through them like feral book collectors. It could get pretty wild. Dang you, Kelly Bisby, and your long legs. She always got to the good stuff faster. Anyway, I managed to snatch up this nearly pamphlet-sized book a million years ago and read it this month after finishing The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane. I have no idea when this was published, or even when the forward was written (which appears to have happened before uniform spelling became the publishing norm). I think it was just reprinted for Salem tourists.
Gotta love those witch trials.
Howe, Katherine. The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane. New York: Voice, 2009.
Yes, I bought a new book. It was weird. First Kelly Bisby mentioned it in a comment on July's book list, and then I was meeting up with my parents in a Barnes & Noble and they had that big display up for it (B&N, not Mom and Dad). I thought the premise looked fun. The premise was fun. The historical research was good. The writing, particularly the characters' dialogue, was not-so-hot. We're talking juvenile fiction-level. And I do not care for juvenile fiction. You know when you're watching a movie and you can guess the plot twists and it's fun at first, but eventually you're bored to the point of being angry because it's so predictable? Yeah, I hate it when that happens.
Feel free to borrow this from me. Cody and I have already read it. He viewed more kindly than I did.
Reich, Charles. The Greening of America. New York: Bantam, 1970.
I've seen lots of references to this book, and I bought a long while back, so it was nice to finally finish it. Parts of it were great, parts of it weren't. But I really liked the parts that were great. Very nice, very thought-provoking, still relevant in places.
It has substance.
Truss, Lynn. Eats, Shoots & Leaves. New York: Gotham, 2003.*
I have a confession to make: I've never read this book until now. I can't believe it! This is probably the most hilarious and informative book about grammar I've ever read! The bit about the family that invented italics nearly made me fall out laughing.
Fantastic.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
July Book List
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)