Two months of books.

One thing about being weirdly introspective is that I end up reading an awful lot and I’ve been meaning to post here for ages about some of what that has looked like. But I’ve let it go so long that the list is ridiculous and instead of being able to give them any lengthy consideration, I’ve decided just to stick with the brief run-down on each. These are just going to end up as iReviews on Facebook anyway.

The Black Book | Orhan Pamuk
This is one of those books I feel the need to read several times in order to glean all from it, so dense is the history, the imagery and the text. Although this was Pamuk’s first novel, it has recently been retranslated and issued anew (perhaps to capitalize on his recent Nobel win). This is the story of a man (Galip) attempting to track down his wife and her half-brother (a famous local columnist) who have seemingly disappeared together. As the search becomes deeper, so does Galip submerge himself in the world of reading – symbols, faces, landscapes and identities – until he becomes another altogether. Steeped in Turkish culture and questions of identity, this is a deep and tragic novel that is absorbing.

Love in the time of Cholera | Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I have a co-worker for whom this is the best Garcia Marquez – though as much as I enjoyed this book, 100 Years of Solitude still tops my list. Both epics in different senses – Love in the time of Cholera is really a narrative about love – unending and enveloping more than just the book’s central characters. Set in turn-of-the-century Colombia, the plot follows the winding loves of Fermina Daza and Florentino Ariza as it beautifully explores the many circumstances in which love finds itself. While reading I copied a number of passages into my notebook because they were so striking – my favourite being “Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them…. life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”

The Ruined Map | Kobo Abe
Japanese surrealism from 1967 – I did not enjoy this one greatly. Suffice to say it’s about a search for self using the device of a detective looking for a missing man. I know, it’s a Japanese classic which means I should like it, but I found the story plodding and pretty unsatisfying overall.

Ring | Koji Suzuki
Better than Japanese surrealism has got to be Japanese horror. You know this story – it’s where the screenplay for The Ring came from – though this version is definitely a bit creepier (probably Ringu is truer to this book though I haven’t seen it to know). Like horror-fiction generally this was a quick read – so much so that I’m reticent to purchase the other two follow-up novels (it always seems like a waste to purchase books that only take me a half a day to read), though apparently it makes a very satisfying trilogy.

Geek Love | Katherine Dunn
As far as I can tell, Katherine Dunn never wrote another book after this which is too bad considering this is a semi-regular reread for me. A novel about a carnival freakshow that gets horribly out of hand with intentionally defective births, telekinetic powers and an amputation cult – this work is not for the faint of heart – but immensely rewarding if you can get past the deformities and into the emotional lives of the characters. Really. I’m sure this isn’t for everyone, but it is a startling tragicomedy to lose oneself in for a weekend.

After Theory | Terry Eagleton
Oh my. I enjoyed this so much that I’ve been on an Eagleton kick ever since I read it. Although it is difficult to imagine a book about the theoretical and practical failures of the postmodern leftist project being a rollicking read – I am here to attest to you that this one is. Essentially this work tackles academic leftism as expressed in postmodern and cultural studies arenas, evaluates what useful insights can be gained from these schools of thought and then critiques the rest. He delves into the (taboo) subjects of objectivity, truth, virtue and morality using examples from the Bible on up through Shakespeare, Marx and modern pop culture. Eagleton’s language is straight-forward, and he is immensely funny – though his bottomline is essential – if postmodern theory has failed us in our political project where do we go next? After Theory doesn’t mean no theory. To Eagleton it is a theory regrounded in dialectical materialism, truth, and virtue. Definitely a read for the left right now.

The Art of the Personal Essay An Anthology | Phillip Lopate, ed.
A weighty essay collection recommended to me by my friend Anna. If you like personal essays or creative non-fiction as a genre, this contains some real highlights in the development of the form.

The Meaning of Life | Terry Eagleton
Although I fundamentally got it, I think I would have enjoyed this book a lot more had I paid attention in Philosophy 101 back in university. In 180 short pages (this is a small book, more an essay than anything) Eagleton examines what the question itself even means, word by word, while following the philosophical paths of Schopenhauer, Wittgenstein, Heidegger and others in order to arrive at his conclusion that “The meaning of life is not a solution to a problem but a matter of living in a certain way.” This way is love (agape specifically), compassion, and fulfillment for more than just our individual selves. As always, Eagleton critiques postmodernism throughout though saves his most scathing remarks in this work for liberals (as opposed to radicals). An interesting foray into a very big topic and worth the read (though you might want to wait until it’s in paperback).

Green Grass, Running Water | Thomas King
Set on a Blackfoot reservation in the fictional town of Blossom, Alberta this novel explores the appropriation of native land, the tradition of the Sundance, the Hollywoodization of native people, and day to day reservation culture in a witty tale about the intersection of four ancient indians raised from the nursing home and the modern-day descendants they are trying to save. I wasn’t exactly sure about the creation-myth plot device used throughout this book as it detracted from what could have been a much more elegant story – but it’s still an amusing read and from quarters that are too often sidelined (I was never introduced to a single native author in any of the CanLit courses I took).

A Boy of Good Breeding | Miriam Toews
Canadians seem to like the image of themselves as a bit boring but with some interesting quirks and unfortunately this is too-often reflected in Euro-Canadian Literature (I say Euro because I don’t find this is true of immigrant literature in Canada or of First Nations Literature). Yes, we may be boring white people in the North but we’re kindof weird too, don’t you see? Miriam Toews is a decent writer, but unfortunately this is another one of those quirky Canadiana pieces. Set in Canada’s “smallest town” Algren, Manitoba, the plot revolves around the obsessive town mayor and his need to keep the town’s population at exactly 1500 residents so as to win a visit from the Prime Minister on Canada Day (you know, the type of contest that Heritage Canada would dream up). Yes, it’s an amusing plot line, but somehow these characters just didn’t ring true to me. If you want to read some Toews, I’d go with A Complicated Kindness which was her GG winner a couple years back.

Ten Theories of Human Nature | David L Heberman, Leslie Forster Stevenson
This is just what you’d expect it to be from the title. I’m searching right now and this book provides a decent introduction to some major foundations of human thought from Confucionism right up to Skinner and behavioural theory. It’s a pretty slim volume, but a useful desk reference if you’re struggling along with questions like What is the Meaning of Life? (See review above).

The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness | Simon Wiesenthal, et al.
A Jewish man in a concentration camp is summoned to the bedside of a dying Nazi who is torn with guilt over what acts of horror he has participated in. He recounts his story, recants his actions and then begs the Jew to forgive him before his fast approaching death. But the Jew is not only torn, but repulsed by this man who has helped to architect the brutality ongoing against the Jews in Poland. Rather than forgive him, he remains silent throughout the Nazi soldier’s story and then leaves the room to be later disturbed by the question of whether he should have forgiven the Nazi or whether he could have. This is Wiesenthal’s story at the end of which he asks – What would you have done? The following 53 essays in the book attempt to answer this question from Jewish, Christian, Atheist, Indigenous, Buddhist and Humanist perspectives and it is a remarkable exploration into the nature of forgiveness, who has the right to forgive who, and the perspective of differing religious philosophies on the question. First published in the 1970s, this book has been added to in each subsequent addition, giving it a breadth and history that enrich the debate between essays. I picked this up because I have been struggling with finding forgiveness in some areas of my life, and I can honestly say that some of the insights within these pages cast new light for me.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius | Dave Eggers
An amusing memoir that is self-indulgent in the same way that blogging is – which means that it’s wildly amusing at times while occasionally lapsing into who gives a shit territory. Fortunately Eggers knows how to pull the reader along and I really read this all in one go (it’s a quick read, there’s nothing difficult about this text). When both of his parents die of cancer within a month of each other, Dave Eggers moves to San Francisco with his much-younger brother (Eggers is 23, his brother 7), sister and girlfriend. This is the story of the difficult deaths of his parents, the determination to raise his brother, his neuroses and search for himself and ultimately his own ethical conflicts at the telling of his story. Yeah. It’s a bit of a circle. And he wallows a bit at times. It really is like a blog in that way.

In the Country of Men | Hisham Matar
Set in the Libya of 1979 – 10 years after the Qaddafi revolution – this novel traces the impacts of politics on the family of 9-year-old Suleiman as individuals are forced to choose political sides, keep secrets and abandon loyalties in order to retain their lives and freedom over a dusty-hot summer. Apparently this is loosely autobiographical which may explain how the author is able to paint such a compelling portrait in a first novel. Although it is a quick read, it is packed with details that I will not soon forget – the show-trials and executions staged over television, the arrest of the Kareem’s father, and the nastiness of the secret police as they pump children for information about their family lives.

The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out Of Darkness | Karen Armstrong
Karen Armstrong is a major writer in the world of comparative religion, having penned a number of books examining the history of God, the foundations of religion and the biographies of key religious prophets. But before all of this she was a nun who left the convent after seven years and then finally gave up on Catholicism (and religious belief) altogether. This is the second part of Armstrong’s autobiography, documenting her years following the convent and her first forays into writing about her own experiences and then later, about religion and faith. As the title suggests, Armstrong’s path is one that turns back in on itself at several key points and she writes about her struggles with health issues, academic disappointments, and the lack of significant romantic relationships in her life before finding herself in a writing career which carries her into the essence of spiritual practice rather than dogmatic belief. I really appreciate Armstrong’s perspective on faith, and her story is certainly one that demonstrates our inability to know the universe or its designs.