The Sirens of Titan

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut
1998
Weight: 9.6 oz
Method of Disposal: Lending Library

Did I mention I love Kurt Vonnegut?  He nailed it every single time.  I love the way he thought and makes us think.  Timeless can sound trite but, in his case, it is just the truth.  I am grateful,all the time, that he was so prolific.  This book includes a large mastiff, space travel, and a drum roll that sounds like,

"Rented a tent, a tent, a tent;
Rented a tent, a tent
Rented a tent!
Rented a tent!
Rented a , rented a tent!"

I suggest you read it and everything else Vonnegut wrote.

The End of Alice

The End of Alice by A.M. Homes
1997
Weight: 10.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating

This was my favorite book and favorite author in college.  I remember that, when I read this book for the first time, I was eating broccoli and cheddar soup and that I could not even stomach seeing, imagining, or smelling that type of soup for several years afterwards.  This book is beautifully disgusting and haunting.  Not many people want to get inside the head of a pedophile--I know because I tried to convince countless people to buy it when I worked at the bookstore.  Not only would they say no, but they would begin to treat me as if I were a creep that maybe should not be trusted.

A.M. Homes is a dark wizard/genius.  I would never give this book up if I did not have another copy.  The young woman eating a young boy's scabs weighs heavily in my memory.  I think of the pedophile turning on the reader after a prison rape scene and accusing the reader of being titillated, of only describing the scene because the reader wants it.  This book is striking, different from anything you have ever read, and it hits deep.  If you are brave, read it. 

North and South

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
1996
Weight: 15.2 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating to AKS

This was a gift from Harriet's mother on a recent trip to the states and so I, of course, started reading it the day she left for England.  True to what I have read by other classic British women authors there was a love story between two people who absolutely misunderstood each other, talked past each other, made mistake after mistake, and the tension just grew and grew until you were about to throw the book across the room if they didn't just admit that they loved each other!  It was much more than that though.  There was an examination of class, business, labor struggle, management, strong women, human weakness, compassion, and friendship.  I found myself deeply invested and having empathy to all the characters, even the ones I initially had disdain for.  Also interesting to think about the North and South divide then and now.  I hope someone else enjoys this book as much as I did!  Thank you, Sarah!

Jesus Saves

Jesus Saves by Darcey Steinke
1999
Weight: 8.9oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving Somewhere

This book was recommended to me years ago by a college professor I really admire.  I finally got around to reading it, and it was brutal.  It details the abduction, torture, rape of children, amongst other things.  At first, I was really under impressed with the writing.  I felt like some of her descriptions were unnecessarily flowery or were lengthy without actually leaving a real image in my mind, often taking me out of the book all together.  

The first time I started to really see the author's skill was when she was writing from the perspective of Sandy Patrick, and abducted girl.  She describes listening to her captor/ the troll in the other room.  She describes sound, smell, taste, behavior.  She shows the girl's mental deterioration.  It was hard to read.  The topic, of course, turns your stomach, but it was well done.

I was less intrigued with Ginger's story, though it is important to the book as a whole.  I think that with a little tweaking I would have been there--where a lot of the other reviewers are, seeing brilliance.  I do think that this author has talent.  I just think it is not fully realized yet.  

More Shakespeare

Hamlet Edited by Barbara A Mowat and Paul Werstine 1992
Othello and The Tragedy of Mariam (Tragedy by Elizabeth Cary) Edited by Clare Carroll 2003
Weight: 1 lb 12 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating

I wonder, on average, how many books the English Major graduate owns upon receiving their degree.  Do they usually keep them or give them away?  I have given away a lot of Shakespeare on this blog.  I will say, though, that I prefer to read the editions I was assigned in school.  They are not clunky and heavy like the complete works.  They often come with helpful and insightful commentary, theory, historical background.  These two editions were well used but are still in great shape and, I know, still being assigned in school.  I am sure they will make their way into loving and/or needful hands.
 

The Fall

The Fall  by Albert Camus
1991
Weight: 1991
Method of Disposal: Donating

 

There are mixed reviews about this book, though overwhelmingly in favor of Camus being a genius.  Some say it is too philosophical, too intellectual, and tedious to read.  Others claim that Camus' other books are brilliant and well worthy of praise, but this one is his worst.  Of course, there is the other side of that being that this is his best.  The love letters written for this book are the best reviews.  They hail it as a masterpiece and show a disturbed enthusiasm about being able to relate to the detestable main character that exists to bring out the worst in all of us.  The truth is that all of these reviews are accurate.  I enjoyed the purpose of the book, but I did start to find it dull to get through.  Sometimes, I would drift off for just a moment while reading it and then would feel lost, just to come to the realization that I was right where I left off, just further into the chatter of a laywer who was "selfless" for the most selfish of reasons.  Had I skipped pages I feel I would have gleaned the meaning and received the message of the book, but I powered through.

 

I am glad I read it, but I would now like to read something that is pleasurable without trying so damn hard.

 

Invisible Monsters

Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk

1999

Weight: 1 lb

Method of Disposal: Leaving at Joe’s in EAV

 

 

Speaking of authors/books I loved when I was sixteen but do not enjoy as much as a 27 year old, here is Invisible Monsters.  Not similar to Winterson, in that I realized quite a while back that I was no longer a Palahniuk fan, did not recommend him to hundreds of people, and do not feel as sad about my changing feelings about his work.   I also still enjoy Written on the Body in many senses, unlike Invisible Monsters.

Chuck started to lose me with books like Lullaby and Diary, but he lost me for good with Snuff.  There is only so much you can do with being extreme for being extremes sake.  A story needs more than  shock value and it is always nice when the characters have some believability.  His women characters are particularly lacking in quality.  Invisible Monsters seems particularly weak and lackluster.

Good riddance.

Written on the Body

Written on the Body  by Jeanette Winterson

1992

Weight: 8 oz

Method of Disposal: Leaving in Joe’s in EAV

 

 

I read Written on the Body for the first time when I was sixteen, and I fell in love.  I thought it was beautiful, and it started a long-term love affair with Jeanette Winterson that exists to this day.  I have since recommended it to countless people.  Strangers who came into the bookstore I worked at, heterosexual women who were in love with Nicholas Sparks, lesbian women looking for some fiction, and young men looking for something different than what they had been reading.  I have suggested it to friends and, recently, bought it for my girlfriend.  It was this most recent purchase that led me to read it again.

I remembered it as a moving and lyrical love story and had completely blocked out that the first half of the book is about a lesbian woman’s conquests of married heterosexual women.   I did not remember being regaled by sexual escapades with one woman and then the next and then the next.  Once I had finished the book, that section seemed like it had drawn on far too long.  A portion of it would have and did add to the second half of the book, but it was not all needed.  The lyricism could be beautiful, but it could also be trite and pull you out of the story.  So often, there were one-liners or even entire paragraphs that would make a great quote for a love letter, a tattoo, or a status update on Facebook (I said it), but they did not nest well in the full text of the book. 

It was difficult for me to reread this book and come to the realization that it is no longer one of my favorites, and that I was no longer impressed by it.  I thought about 16 year old Laura and 27 year old Laura and felt foolish for not realizing sooner that so much had changed within me that would influence my understanding and feelings towards the novel. 

I resisted getting rid of this book the entire time I have been writing on this blog but, I suppose, I am glad I reread it and now know that I can hand it off to the next person who is in the right place at the right time.  The realization of not being tied to this book is strangely sad though, and I almost feel like I am going through a literary crisis of sorts.  I am losing something I felt was essential to my reading self.  I know that sounds dramatic but, sometimes, you get bonded to a book and the “loss” of it is almost as moving as the initial love of it.

Beloved

Beloved by Toni Morrison
1998
Weight: 1 lb
Method of Disposal: Donating

I love this book.  Of course, it might have helped that, while I was in college, I was required to read it at least 3 times and discuss it in class.  I never understood how my classmates could be so angry and judgemental about what the main character does in the end.  I would get so frustrated that they would even refuse to discuss it as an option.  You don't have to agree with it to show some degree of empathy.  I have to believe that no one in the room could begin to relate to her fear and struggle.  If you haven't read it, you have no idea what I am talking about and this might be completely boring to you, but I am reluctant to spoil the book for you, as I think you should read it and, if you do or have, you should discuss it with me in the comments.  All bets are off down there!

I will say that it taps into our fear of prisoners, the prison industrial complex, and the death penalty, despite the fact that it does not directly reference all of these things and what it does do is limited.  Also, I never made that connection until tonight, and the medication I must take ten days out of the month does make me a little loopy. 

If you haven't read it, you should give it a shot.  I know plenty of people who do not find the same value in it as I do, but there are millions who do.  If nothing else, it is on many lists of must-read books, including my own.

"This is worse than when Paul D came to 124 ans she cried helplessly into the stove.  This is worse.  Then it was for herself.  Now she is crying because she has no self.  Death is a skipped meal compared to this (123)."

And as a discussion point:

I love the idea of "rememory" and "disremembering."

The Bell Jar

The Bell Jar  by Sylvia Plath
2000
Weight: 8.8 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving in a book box in East Atlanta or Oakhurst

It is a dull, dreary, rainy, sleepy day and thus, probably a good day to get rid of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar.  I first read this book in high school and then, as a junior, I reread it and attempted to write my first serious literary comparison.  I had a vivid memory of it several weeks ago but now I cannot remember what the topic actually was.   I know that I read a lot of books and did so much work to get that paper done.  I was only suppose to write a short paper on one book, but I got special permission from my English teacher to take on a much larger project.  I got so caught up in reading every Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Elizabeth Wurtzel book I could find that I became overwhelmed with information and turned in a terrible paper.  I believe I got a very disappointing "B."  I deserved lower, if you just looked at quality, but I worked so hard.  It was so worth it though.  Little did I realize that the next year I would write an even more daunting paper on "The Sexual Connotations of Little Red Riding Hood" and then after that would attend a private college where you would be assigned a ten page paper in a math class and a 20-30 page paper in an English class and so on and so forth until you got to your thesis work, which was particularly big if you double majored, like me.  I needed that failing paper to get it out of my system, learn how to organize, and move on.

The Bell Jar.  It appealed to me because of the strong-minded woman narrating it.  I underlined, "And I knew that in spite of all the roses and kisses and restaurant dinners a man showered on a woman before he married her, what he secretly wanted when the wedding service ended was for her to flatten out underneath his feet like Mrs. Willard's kitchen mat(85)."  I related to her desolation and her disillusionment with the world and the people that inhabited it.  "The figures around me weren't people, but shop dummies, painted to resemble people and propped up in attitudes counterfeiting life (142)."  I understood the pain behind people's throw away comments.  The ones about your own reality that people make when they try to care but cannot wrap their head or heart around what you are showing them. 
                    My mother smiled. "I knew my baby wasn't like that."
                    I looked at her.  "Like what?"
                    "Like those awful people.  Those awful dead people at that hospital." She paused.  "I
                    knew you'd decide to be alright again (145-146)."

I am somewhere else in life now.  Far, far away from the experiences of Esther Greenwood/Sylvia Plath.  I still have dreary, dim, daunting, alliterative days and sometimes I even fall into depression but never with the same gusto and, if I do, it is only with the help of some sort of hormonal medication that throws everything out of whack but that I can recognize, gather support for, and move on from.

Today, I am just slightly sad and slightly sleepy.  Goodbye, Bell Jar, go spread your word.

The Jungle

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
1990
Weight: 6.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving in a Lending Library box in Decatur

I was fairly young when I read The Jungle for the first time.  Because of that the book was able to keep some of its initial power and momentum that made it successful and important to the world in the first place.  It was probably one of the first times I was exposed to (in a book) the American systems of oppression in regards to immigration, the working class, and the mass killing of animals.

Most of us are fully aware that The Jungle invoked anger and distrust with the meatpacking industry, even though that was not the main focus of the book.  The main component, obviously, being the people.  It is one agony after another for the Lithuanian family the book centers around.  Workers lose appendages and lives to the machinery and constant push to be faster  at the factory.  Children beg for food in the street and face dangers, such as rape, on a regular basis.  It is heartbreaking.  You find yourself wanting to take a break and, of course, realizing that the family itself can never catch one.  After all these years, I still recommend The Jungle.

Identitiy

Identity by Milan Kundera
1999
Weight:5.6 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving in a Book Box in Decatur

I first read this book a little over a decade ago, and I thought it was incredible.  I have since recommended it to numerous people I have loved throughout the years, I have referenced it in discussing life and relationships, and I have thought of it many times.  Is it because I was younger and could remember more about the books I read and, therefore, still remember more about them than books I read now or was this book just that life altering?  I feel like my response to this novel was rare and beloved.  The people I have asked to read Identity and who have then come back to tell me what they think have always reported back saying they like it, but they did not love it.  It did not seem to mean as much to them.

I reread it this morning, and I kept thinking, "I'm going to keep this one.  I will never let it go.  I will put it in a box and announce on my blog that it is the first book I have decided, without a doubt, to keep."  As you can see, I have changed my mind, though the book was still powerful for me.  It is the first 50-75% that I hold so close to my heart.  The last 25% means much less to me and is, ultimately, the reason I know I do not need to hold onto it any longer. 

It is funny, when I describe it to people these days I talk about the dissoultion of a relationship based on tiny misunderstandings that grow into overwhelming issues that cannot be tackled.  I vaguely remembered something about an orgy and the end of a relationship--components I feel I grossly misremembered but are still not powerful to me.

The tiny misunderstandings that grow into entirely different beasts--that is what I am obsessed with.  Watching two people, who clearly love each, other struggle to communicate because of ego, insecurity, flirtation.  Often and almost always when honesty would have solved it all but, by the time the misunderstandings have grown, honesty would no longer work.  And the misunderstandings are so insignificant why would you think it neccessary to communicate them?

I am also compelled by the descriptions of love.  Jean-Marc and Chantal are the main characters, as they are the couple we are zoomed in on.  Early in the book Jean-Marc is running after a woman on the beach that he believes to be Chantal.  Kundera writes:

                       Suddenly he imagines her body crushed by a car, sprawled on the sand, she is bleeding,
                       the car is disappearing down the beach and he sees himself dash towards her.  He is so
                       upset by the image that he really does start shouting Chantal's name, the wind is strong,
                       the beach enormous, and no one can hear his voice, so he can give himself over to that
                       sort of sentimental theatrics and, with tears in his eyes, shout out his anguish for her;
                       his face clenched in a grimace of weeping, for a few seconds he is living with the
                       horror of her death.

                       Then, himself astounded by that curious spasm of hysteria, he saw her, in the distance,
                       still strolling nonchalantly, peaceable, calm, pretty, infinitely touching, and he grinned
                       at the comedy of bereavement he'd just played out, smiled about it with self-reproach,
                       because Chantal's death has been with him ever since he began to love her....(17-18)

I added the emphasis, but I felt it when I was reading.  To love someone is to accept losing them, absolutely if you will love them forever.  You take their death with their life, but you often do not even realize it.  The devil's bargain.  I have been Jean-Marc in this scene.

Just a few pages later, Kundera writes from Jean-Marc's perspective:

                       Mistaking the physical appearance of the beloved for someone else's.  How often that's
                       happened to him!  Always with the same astonishment: does that mean that the
                       difference between her and other women is so minute?  How is is possible that
                       he cannot distinguish the form of the being he loves most, the being he considers to be
                       beyond compare (21)?

What more can I say?!  Such a beautiful, true, disturbing, and common observation.  I feel you, Jean-Marc!

I will admit that poor Chantal is not painted to be much of a self-preservationist, a common thing for women in Kundera books.  When someone starts sending her notes that clearly state that she is being stalked she swoons, instead of panics.  I will say, though, that it works within the world of this novel.

Let me give you one last early excerpt from Chantal's point of view.  She has just had an unsettling experience with a strange man and is finally being reunited with Jean-Marc.

                         When Jean-Marc appeared at the door of the room, she had every intention of being
                         cheerful;she meant to kiss him, but she could not; ever since her stop at the cafe
                         she had been tense, edgy, and so deeply dug into her dark mood that she feared any
                         loving gesture she might try would come across as forced or false.

                         Then Jean-Marc asked her: "What's happened?"  She told him she had slept badly,
                         that she was tired, but she did not manage to convince him and he continued to
                         question her; not knowing how to escape that love inquisition, she thought to tell him
                         something funny; her morning walk and the men transformed into baby-trees returned
                         to mind, and she came across the phrase still lying about in her head like a misplaced
                         object: "Men don't turn to look at me anymore." She resorted to that phrase to avert
                         any serious discussion; she tried to say it as lightly as possible, but to her suprise, her
                         voice was bitter and melancholy.  She could feel the melancholy plastered across her
                         face and knew, instantly, that it would be misinterpreted (22-23).

I have been Jean-Marc AND Chantal.  Haven't you?  How quickly both of their moods shift from page 1 to page 23, while they are looking for each other.  They are so in love and happy but, by the time they are together, they cannot function as a coordinated unit.  I love it!  I love it because it is all I have ever known love to be.

Okay, I could keep quoting, ranting, and raving, but I won't.  I still recommend this book.  If for no other reason than the first 100 pages, but it is well worth finishing.
 

The Butter Battle Book

The Butter Battle Book by Dr Suess
1984
Weight: 12.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Gave to Lucas, Sarah's baby

This is one of my favorite Dr Suess books, though any close friend of mine knows that I am absolutely smitten with the Sneetches.  My dear friend Sarah and I use to work at a bookstore together and sometimes, when things were slow, we would read each other children's books.  She would make up her own words to Curious George, and it would crack me up.  She talked to me about all the political implications of Dr Suess, which encouraged my lifelong fascination with the man, the literature, and the cartoons.

We were talking about Lucas' book collection and how it was missing some of the essentials, and she mentioned The Butter Battle Book.  I would have had trouble letting this one go, but knowing it was going to Little Lucas was perfect.  I will never have kids of my own to pass these books and thoughts onto, but I now have a lot of kids in my life who can benefit.

By now, you have probably read The Butter Battle Book but, if you haven't or if it has been awhile, go check it out at the library or go to a bookstore.  The lesson of the book and the history is so obvious, and it is scary, but it is also wonderful.  It is a great way to teach kids about peace.

War Dances

War Dances by Sherman Alexie
2010
Weight: 7.2 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving at Joe's in East Atlanta Village

Alexie never disappoints.  I was so relieved to pick this one off my shelf.  I knew it would be an easy read in that I would be hooked on each word, would chuckle regularly, and would also find activism in the form of short stories and poetry.  It was an easy read in that the voices of the characters were so well done that I never had to come out of the story for air or to think about what I had just read.  I just lived in the book each moment I got to pick it up.  I am not saying it is the best book by the author, but it was another fine collection by him.  I intend to leave it at the coffee shop unless you let me know that you need some of this in your life.

Annie John

 Annie John  by Jamaica Kincaid
1997
Weight: 8.8 oz
Method of disposal:  Giving to the first person to ask or leaving in a public place

Annie John was given to me as a birthday gift by my dear friends, Harriet and Connor, and it was recommended to me by a lifelong friend, Skye. I was very excited to read it, and I was not let down in the least. It is about the growing relationship between a young girl and her mother. Their relationship transforms from one made in heaven, with every kindness being bestowed on the daughter to one full of aggravation and doubt. As a child, her sense of security in her life is only troubled by nightmares and seeing disasters happen to other families, but her mother is always there to reassure her. As she becomes a teenager, the relationship shifts, as it ineveitably does in any other mother/daughter relationship. It is painful to watch from the outside. As a bystander, there are so many times where you want to offer advice, explain both sides, stop a wreck from happening but, like in real life, you cannot.

I would like to pass on the recomendation that was given to me. You should read Annie John. Please let me know if you would like a free copy!

Does Your House Have Lions?

Does Your House Have Lions?  Sonia Sanchez

1998

Weight: 3.8 oz

Method of Disposal: Leaving Somewhere

It seems like in the late nineties I was buying a lot of current literature.  I was buying things and reading them the same year they came out.  I must have been more adventurous then.  Really, I am sure it was just that I had more time, money, and a bookstore employee discount.  If I buy or check out a book now, I usually look for a nonfiction topic I am into or for an author I know.  I am embarrassed to say that I do not give many new writers a chance—unless I read a good short story from them.  I miss the days of grabbing a book off the shelf and taking it home just because of the title, because it spoke to me, or because I happened to like the color in that moment.  

I just re-read Does Your House Have Lions?  There is something about the poetry surrounding illness and death that engulfs me, almost drowns me.  I have not read a lot of poetry in recent years, and I absolutely have learned that I cannot write it.  I respect someone who can, and I did enjoy this book when I first read it in the nineties and still now.

My Heartbeat

My Heartbeart  by Garret Freymann-Weyr

2002

Weight: 11.2 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating or Giving away

It is probably fairly obvious by now why this book made it to my shelves.  It is 1) a young adult book and 2) a book that deals with queer issues—or at least an affluent, gay, male teenager.  I was impressed that the book made it into the bookstores and that it won several awards, but I felt neither here nor there about it.

A teenage girl loves hanging out with her brother, Link, and his bestfriend, James.  Then, someone at school asserts that her brother is gay and things start to spiral past her understanding.  I do like that this book does not follow typical themes.  The mother is open and knowledgeable.  It is the sibling relationship that falters.  There are not over-exaggerated theatrics or unnecessary acts of violence.  Sexuality is not completely binary and stagnant.  I don’t know.  Let me know if you want to check it out, and it is yours free.  I would love it if you told me what you thought.

Stop playing Angry Birds and blog! ;)

Dracula  by Bram Stoker

1981

Weight: 7 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating or giving away

I have not written in a long time, but I still have a ton of books that have to go.  Looking at my shelves is daunting.  I do not want to see them disappear.  Every time I see one I want to write about I think about losing it, and I redirect my attention to something else.  Despite these fancies and second thoughts, I know I need to go forward with the project.

It is rare that I buy a mass market paperback, made to be destroyed; they rub me the wrong way.  And, while it is elitist, I cannot help but question the value of a story if printed in that format.  Classics, of course, do not apply.  The incredible page-turner, Dracula, is the perfect example.  This little paperback has been in my life for some time and is still in good shape.  I first read Dracula during one of my high school summer vacations (could I have those back please?), and I loved it.  I could not put it down.  I do not often enjoy horror novels, but this is absolutely one of the best ever written.  No matter how many Dracula movies you have seen you need to read the book.  There is something about the process of reading that adds to the suspense.

It is told through correspondences, journals, and diaries.  Don’t we all have a little voyeur in us?  I love reading books written this way.  Let me know if you are ready to give it a go.  This little book could be yours.