The merits of reading transportable paperbacks* for pleasure:
1) Once purchased and/or borrowed (remember when libraries actually had those removable slips to stamp when books came in and out? Time warp!), it’s free.
2) It’s a great way to bulk up your vocabulary (sure, this depends on who and what you’re reading, but odds are you’ll come upon the errant unknown word, here and there, no matter what)
3) It helps pass the absurdly long hour and a half you spend waiting for and sitting on the 48 bus every single day, cruising in un-airconditioned style from work, the gym, and your current house-sitting locale in the charming Mt. Baker/Seward Park neighborhoods.
*Down with the Kindle and everything else threatening tactile literature.
I’ve had more time over the past two months to read fiction of my choice than I had over the past two years. Luckily, I’m having a hell of a time finding a fulltime job, so what with my 15hr a week position saving the universe, I have ample time to catch up from the grad school famine. I’m devouring fiction, one used novel* at a time.
*Shout out to Half Priced Books; what a gem.
Freedom - $9
Jonathan Franzen
God dammit, TIM!* Look, I love you Franzen. I fell in love with you on May 29th, 2005, a naïve 21 year old, sitting in Swarthmore’s tree-laden outdoor amphitheatre on a brilliantly sunny afternoon, listening to you poetically rail against the horrors of the current presidential administration while elegantly congratulating that year’s graduating class (my adorable twin included). But, I don’t think I love this novel – wait, wait for it – I don’t think I love this novel quite as much as The Corrections, or even Strong Motion. Maybe I’ve read you too religiously but, the thing is, I feel like I’ve heard it before; the odes to 80’s post-punk, the Midwestern suburbanites trying to do right by their illusion of happiness and ultimately stumbling, ridiculously complex characters that muddle the lines between redemption and ruin, the strategically interwoven critiques of the present socio-political economy and the retelling of Swarthmore's idyllic rolling greens (obvi)… So, needless to say, yeah, this book was awesome. It had everything I appreciate about your writing (please see above). However, it was JUST shy of the awesomeness of your previous genius. I still love you, though.
-Verdict? Yeah, I still love you, but maybe we should see other people for a while?
*If one person gets this reference, it’ll be well worth it.
Chronic City - $7
Jonathan Lethem
I’ve heard good things about you, Lethem, and you don’t disappoint. Granted, this moved slow at times, but I was ultimately entertained. You’re a good writer, sir, and I especially love reading about New York City, when written by someone who’s obviously lived and/or is living in said metropolis. And, either Lethem’s research or his knowledge about his topics is quite admirably in-depth. Following the ins and outs of an about town-washed up child star, Lethem totally flexes his pop culture muscle to the extent that I couldn’t actually make out what was regurgitated fact or manipulated for fiction. Evidently, I know next to nothing about Marlon Brando. Good story (though it dragged just a smidge about three quarters through) and even better writing. Oh, and I'm naming my first born (if I choose to breed, that is), Perkus.
-Verdict? Next time I read him Wikipedia will be close at hand.
The Secret History - $3
Donna Tartt
Uh, boo. Yeah, I said it, a big-time boo. Much to my chagrin, as this is the only summer choice to boast a female author (and not have a first name featured in the New Testament), ugh, I really just didn’t enjoy this at all. As this month’s bookclub choice, I powered through, but I was ultimately disappointed. Following the twisted tale of a half dozen lib arts college students studying the Classics, I found the plot dull (look, we all who went to college understand that it can be as much as 70% boozing and napping, but good lord, it seems that’s all that went on), the characters dislikable (which sometimes works but in this case I just wanted them to do away with themselves) and the writing style, eh, merh.
-Verdict? The $3 used to purchase this would have bought me a very tasty happy hour drink.
A Month of Sundays - $1.50
John Updike
So, since this isn’t my first time at the rodeo (I read Rabbit, Run a few years ago), I had an inkling of what to expect but man, this was fabulous. As per usge, Updike uses this novel to explore familiar themes: the political, social and domestic changes that came with the 1960’s (religion, marriage, monogamy), the Northeast, the rise of suburbs. Told through the retrospective journal entries of an excommunicated pastor, the book weaves a tale of infidelity and confused faiths. I’m simply in awe of his vocabulary and his ability to manipulate it into subtly hilarious sentences (especially through the lens of this particular man of the cloth). Like most sane folks, while sitting in a coffee shop or on the bus, I often found myself sporadically chuckling aloud much to the dismay of my nearby neighbors. Oh, and the story lines aren’t too shabby either. Ultimately, I’m going to keep plowing through Updike’s work until I put a dent in his extensive repertoire.
-Verdict? Bargain of the summer.
Marry Me - $6
John Updike
Finished one Updike and on to the next. Thus far (I’m about half way), there’s discussion of Lutherans and Unitarians, off-handed (but always spot on and perfectly convincing) mentions of the “new fad, the Twist”, the “young Irishman in the Whitehouse”, and the rise of white, upper-middleclass NYC suburbs in Connecticut, daiquiris, Rum Collins’ and gin daisies. Much like Rabbit, Run, this book is clearly a product of its times; men court women, work in the office, and shoulder the burden of “breadwinner”; women make the home, shuffle their children around town and ultimately defer to the men; basically, marriage is the end goal and, once achieved, the at first anxiously willing participants are left to ponder their supposed domestic bliss. While at first I found this archaic standpoint interesting (albeit despicable) in the insight it provides to a very different time, it’s beginning to get a wee bit old. Maybe it’s because this novel, unlike the others I’ve read, is exclusively centered on marriage (surprise, surprise), but I’m actually having a difficult time stomaching the excessive chauvinism of this particular Stepford-esque Connecticut suburb. We’ll have to see how it wraps up…
-Verdict? I don’t like gin, and I don’t like this… Well, I guess the jury’s still out on the book. Next time I pick it up, maybe I’ll try it with a daiquiri in hand.
