Bluestalking

Benefits of planning one's reading

Never mind a few years ago I thought making any plans beyond the end of the week was silly and misguided. That was before I hit 40 and was slapped in the face with the spectre of my own mortality. An unpleasant experience that was, in more ways than one. First off, ever been slapped by Death? Not high on anyone's list of Fun Things. Second, there went any hope I'd live long enough to get around to reading those ancient classics, at least not willy-nilly at my own leisurely pace.

I no longer think it's silly planning out not just a year's reading but five year and ten year plans as well. And not to say I'm elderly or suffering from a fatal disease but it's simple math/probability the longer you live the more likely you are to die. I never was good at math but I think I may have that one right.

First, those authors whose works I'd like to read to completion (insert joke about "happy finish" here):

Dickens

Woolf

Faulkner

 

 

 

 

 

Maybes:

Henry James

Edith Wharton

Thomas Hardy

Truman Capote

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, works I want to say I've read, in order to throw that fact around at dinner parties (which I never attend but never mind that):

Remembrance of Things Past

Ulysess

Moby-Dick

Anna Karenina

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybes:

Infinite Jest

Gravity's Rainbow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Authors whose works I've read almost completely and want to finish because they're either handsome and I want be thoroughly conversant with them when next I meet them, god willing, or I just plain respect the living hell out of them:

 

Sebastian Barry

Julian Barnes

Sebastian Barry

Margaret Atwood

Whomever I'm reading at the time and feel thoroughly impressed by.

 

 

 

 

 

Maybes:

Joyce Carol Oates, though I'm not sure my mind can remain stable if I do so

 

 

 

 

 

 

Writers whom I haven't read yet and should have, which encompasses so many I cannot even recall them all.

 

 

Writers whose series fiction is completely addicting:

Susan Hill

Ian Rankin

 

 

 

 

 

 

Books which seduce me, often new books sent to me for review or those I stumble upon serendipitously.

 

 

100 best novels - Modern Library (except those of no interest to me).

100 best nonfiction - Modern Library (see above).

 

All the books I personally own, number in the thousands, save those I start and find uninteresting and either donate or exchange for credit at used book stores.

[Mental Note: Should consider photographing major book storage areas in my house, to post at a later date, assuming blog hosting site can handle that much photo storage space.]

 

 

Alright. Well, that's not so bad, now, is it? Totally doable. Assuming I can read 100 books per year (not out of the realm of possibility), the Modern Library will keep me busy a mere two years (and I've read many on the list of novels already), though I won't read them all in one year because I distract far too easily.

Big, chunker books like Ulysses should take, what, six months to a year to read slowly and digest? So that's four years for what I've been able to remember, countless years for those I've forgotten.

Completing authors: five years each, perhaps? Fifteen years, again plus those I've forgotten or have put on the "maybe" list. Assume a good twenty more of these for a total of (gets out calculator) 100 years.

Authors I respect and want to impress: I've listed four, plus let's assume 50 more for whomever else should be on the list. Total shot in the dark Best estimate: Fifteen years.

Series fiction? Depends how long each author lives. Forty years?

Serendipitous books, paired with the thousands I own: Roughly 100 years.

Grand total:   271 years at 100 books per year

 

Piffle! Scientists say they'll eventually cure death, so that's one point for me. The sun will eventually consume the Earth, if the Andromeda Galaxy hasn't gotten us first, but that's a good few billion years out. Oh, but that's if Yellowstone or another Super Volcano doesn't erupt (could be any day now), or idiotic people with nuclear and other world-destructive capability don't accidentally hit the Red Button (ditto), or a mutant disease doesn't escape from some laboratory somewhere (ditto). Like that super-strain of bird flu recently developed. Something of that nature, which was a BRILLIANT IDEA, by the way. BRILLIANT!

To my mind, my goals are totally doable. I can rest much easier knowing that. What a relief! Ah, I feel better.

 

Canadian Book Challenge - August report

 

Alrighty! Here we go. Two books by Canadian authors read over the course of the last month or so, and I'm here to talk briefly about them. These aren't proper "reviews," but rather thoughts on the two books as I explore the literature of Canada.

 

I've previously read at least one book by Moore. I just can't remember which. Obviously, it made a very big impression on me.

After reading his bio on Wikipedia, I see the man was actually born in Belfast, Northern Ireland. But he's listed as both Irish and Canadian. Well, alright. This book won the Governor General's Award for Fiction in 1975, which is a Canadian award. Methinks he counts for the Challenge.

Plot synopsis: History professor Anthony Maloney (Tony Maloney. Cringe.) is in Carmel, California, to attend a seminar at Berkeley. His first night there, spent at a small motel, he dreams a mysterious man takes him on a tour of priceless Victorian curiosities. When he awakes, the curiosities are set up in the motel's parking lot, conjured out of thin air. He's thrilled. Beyond thrilled. Victorian history is his specialty, and here he finds booth after booth chock full of antiquities, all in perfect condition.

Explaining what happened is of course a difficulty, but after enough convincing - and the authentication of Victorian specialists - at least some are won over by his story. Soon he discovers some of his actions have an impact on the collection, and I won't tell what or how, because this makes up a large part of the rest of the book.

Theme: A variation on the "be careful what you wish for" theme.

My thoughts: Well, it started out great. I love magical realism, books brushing up against the supernatural (used sparingly and with elegant understatement). But it didn't take long until it became a chore.

The dialogue was horrid and stilted. Moore had his characters calling each other by name over and over, even when it was completely obvious who was speaking. The effect was annoying. It went something like this:

Joe: "Hello, Bob," said Joe.

Bob: "Hello Joe, said Bob.

Joe: "Hey, Bob, would you like to go out and have coffee?"

Bob: "Yes, Joe, I would."

Joe: "Well, Bob, I know a great little restaurant."

Bob: "Okay, Joe. Let's go."

ARRRRRRRRRRRRGHGH!

Most of this book was written in this sophomoric style. In 1975 the pickings for the GG Award must have been awfully slim if this book won. And I think I just figured out why I can't recall which other book of Moore's I read previously. I've blocked it out for self-preservation.

 

 

On the other hand! Miriam Toews. I think I'm in love.

Plot synopsis: Min Troutman, deeply depressed mother of two children - Logan and Theodora (Thebes) - is hospitalized for the umpteenth time when she becomes suicidal. Her sister, Hattie, flies home to Canada from Paris and assumes guardianship of her nephew and niece.

Deciding their biological father, whom Min kicked out many years ago, would be a better guardian for them, she gathers the kids up and embarks on a road trip to find him. The only problem, he's been gone so long she's not sure where he is. But she does have his last known location, Murdo, South Dakota.

The trip is one wild, hilarious romp through the United States. The kids are delightfully quirky, much like the characters in 'Little Miss Sunshine' (another road trip tale). You'll know what I mean if you've seen it.

My thoughts: The writing is an absolute joy. In contrast to Moore, Toews' prose sings, and her dialogue is natural and enjoyable, without once giving me the dry heaves. It was panned by some critics, but maybe they just don't share my sense of humor. And, yeah, okay. A lot of strays from probability. But it's so wacked-out I forgive it.

And that's it for books one and two.

 

Tentative Canadian reading list.

1).    Miriam Toewes - A Complicated Kindness (Governor General's Award for Fiction - 2004)

2).    John Bemrose - The Island Walkers (2003)

3).    Giles Blunt - Forty Words for Sorrow  (2000)

4).    Robertson Davies -?

5).    Penguin History of Canada, OR

        Desmond Morton - A Short  History of Canada

6).    Susanna Moodie - Roughing It in the Bush (1852)

7).    Matt Cohen - Elizabeth and After (Governor General's Award for Fiction - 1999)

8).    Hugh MacLennan - Two Solitudes (1945)

9).    Karolyn Schmardz Frost - I've Got a Home in Glory Land: A Lost Tale of the Underground Railroad         (Governor General's Award for Nonfiction - 2007)

10).    Brian Moore - The Great Victorian Collection (Governor General's Award for Fiction - 1975)

11).    Gabrielle Roy - Street of Riches (Governor General's Award for Fiction - 1957)

12).    Kit Pearson - Awake and Dreaming (Governor General's Award for Children's Literature - 1997)

13).    Julie Johnston - Hero of Lesser Causes (Governor General's Award for Children's Literature -             1992)

The order will depend on availability, but I know if I don't make a list now I'll fall behind.

It's subject to change or substitution, of course, should whim dictate.

By the way, anyone have a Robertson Davies recommendation for someone who's read none of his books?

Canada, here I come! Canadian Book Challenge 4.

  

Learned about this new Challenge from Bibliosue's blog, then followed the link to the initiator of the Challenge over at The Book Mine Set.

One year. Thirteen books - one for each Canadian province. Thirteen reads, thirteen reviews.

I seldom participate in Challenges, due to lack of time more than anything, but this one resonates with me. I'm far too ignorant of Canadian literature and culture. My theory is the Canadians often get drowned out by the noise coming from their neighbors to the South (shrinking guiltily), and that's why I have trouble naming more than a handful of Canadian writers.

Join me next Canada Day - July 1 - and we'll see how much that's changed. Meanwhile, keep a lookout at my sidebar and you'll see my progress under the "Canadian Book Challenge" header.

Northward, ho!

The "C" book in my A-Z author read: The agony of defeat.

Javier Calvo - Wonderful World: A Novel

And, this one kicked my arse. It's a great read, but so complex and detailed I kept forgetting who was who and what was what, until I finally  had to throw in the towel.

Sad, though. I know if I hadn't been reading eight books at a time, instead reading the C book in my A-Z Author Read by itself, I would have loved it. But I lost the thread, and just couldn't get it back. And I wasn't about to go back to the beginning and start all over.

This, my friends, is a BIG BOOK. It also plays a weird, twisted sort of homage to Dickens - the author's favorite writer. Imagine all those quirky Dickensian characters: some of them beating each other to a pulp, others having sex or doing drugs, while the rest just keep bumbling along, and you have Wonderful World.

But worth it! I insist, it would be worth it. Maybe next time around.

I had no choice but to throw in the towel. It's time to choose the "D" book and get on with things.

• Paperback: 496 pages
• Publisher: Harper Perennial (February 23, 2010)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0061557692

* I read my library's copy of this book.