So, yes. As usual, this collection is chock full of good reads. And since it was a collection, my review is going to be haphazard at best; there was simply too much to do everything justice.
Bottom line, I like the short stories very, very much. I think a lot of time Southern writers can get lost in the foggy lands of dialect, so that they lose their readers, myself included. Too often it's a pain to read dialect, so much a pain that it distracts from what the story is actually about. Take Eudora Welty--I love her sense of region and myth, her phrasing and etc.--but the dialect makes me dislike the actual reading of her writing. Does this make sense? Or am I just a lazy reader? LOL.
Anyway, the dialogue is not only reader-friendly with O'Connor, it also serves a purpose. The accents of her characters make them funny, or terrifying, or ridiculous, or irritating--which in my mind, is what any literary technique should do. Props to Ms. O'Connor.
By the way, the majority of the short stories are just plain backwoods-humor funny. I laughed at every single one of them, even the ones where I probably shouldn't have. But they were that almost accidental kind of funny; you know the kind, when you're reading about some big and important something, like death or birth of a child, or religion, or criminal activity, and you just happen to be laughing the entire time some great philosophical point is being made about that big important something. More props to Ms. O'Connor.
I also like that she doesn't shy away from the race issues which, frankly, are still a huge part of American culture no matter where you go....though anyone who likes to read politically correct writing, or who has a problem facing the distasteful fact of how blacks/foreigners/urbanites are viewed and talked about in the South (and the Midwest, for that matter), may have issues with the words the character use. Though sadly these instances, like all the N-bombs and all those other racial slurs, read as "accurate" rather than "racist"... which makes me wonder to what extent our language shapes our worldviews, and to what extent our worldviews shape our language. What exactly does separate but equal mean, anyway? It's nice to read an author who gives such a here's-how-it-is version of America, because it makes you think more about yourself and your family and whatnot; makes you examine more that way. But at spots it is kind of in your face.
I should mention here I'm not trying to alienate anyone.
To go on. I have to admit I just couldn't get into Wise Blood, one of the novels in the collection. I don't know why. *shakes head* I could tell it was very well written, but no matter how many times I started it I couldn't really get going. Now, The Violent Bear It Away, which I believe is a novella, I really enjoyed, both as a reader and a writer. I can't pinpoint the difference in the two, other than the obvious. *shakes head again* I figure I'll come back to Wise Blood in another year. It took me a couple breaks to be mentally ready for some of my favorite books of all time (Tale of Two Cities, Banana Rose, Paradise Lost--a whole bunch actually) so I'm guessing now's just not the time for it.
The discrepancies between Catholicism and Protestantism and how back-country folk deal with those discrepancies among themselves was spot on, I thought. I didn't grow up in the South, but I think a lot of the attitudes Ms. O'Connor's characters hold are the same ones with which I was surrounded as a child growing up in the hills. She does an excellent job of making the ways we see our gods, our cultures, (and thus, ourselves) simultaneously aboslutely necessary to our sense of self and, alternately, utterly ridiculous in the face of "real" life. Just some really good true, funny, discerning writing.
So yeah, I dig. Hooray for reading! (I'm such a dork...)
Showing posts with label Book Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Review. Show all posts
Monday, April 4, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Reading List Review--The Good Earth
"Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today. Mawwiage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wiffin a dweam..." --The Princess Bride.
Okay, so I'm almost finished with The Good Earth. I like it. Go read it, yes. Pretty much any book I review that doesn't begin with "THIS IS A PILE OF SHIT ON PAPER!" is likely to be a good read, since I tend to do classics. There are just too many, you see. Too many good books, and not enough time.
Anywhosers, it's the story of a man, Wang Lung, in China (damned if I should have taken that Chinese civ. class in college, because I have no idea in what era it is set and am too prideful to go look!--I've narrowed it down to the 1850's to the late 1920's; but that's it). Well, it's the story of Wang Lung, his family, community, and the ways of China at large, from what I can tell. And it's nice to read. The words are prettily constructed, and the thesis is clear, the characters real, the plot involving. I don't want to go too much into it, because I've read almost to the end and don't want this to be a spoiler review.
What I like most about really good reads is the way they get your mind going. Now this book, as you can tell from the title, is focused on the land--in some ways it reminds me of Gone With the Wind, but only marginally so, because of the way Wang Lung is so bound to the earth which nourishes him. So one would think this kind of thing is what my brain would be whirring on about. And to some extent, it is; earth, class, philosophy...all these are explored thoroughly.
But really what gets my braing going in this are the two very different outlooks the poor and the rich have considering marriage. Who knows about the middle class; I've not yet tackled that. But yes.
In the book--and I think it's fair to say in real life, as well--the [sensible, good] poor approach marriage not as a social duty, or a godly duty, or anything so high and mighty. It is a means. To the poor, life = poverty, and joining with another adult of similar mind/etc. is a good way to share the burden. Two able bodies under one roof is better than one able body under one roof. Eventually, if each works toward the same end under that roof, then they will grow to respect each other, then perhaps even like each other, and then maybe, just maybe, love each other. But loving outright is for the rich, for the poor cannot afford to make a life decision--like saying "I do" to someone and then be stuck with that someone for an entire life--on a whim like love. Not to mention there's no real idle time for money for courting. And there's too much riding on it. Not to say the opposite doesn't happen, and frequently, but I'm talking about the marriages among the poor that last.
In the book--and again, I'd guess in real life--the [sensible, good] rich approach marriage sometimes as a social or godly duty, but mainly as a source of pleasure. To the rich, life = pleasure, and what better way to live than to fill one's life with beauty and grace and seemly things, like the love of a man or a woman. It has nothing to do with sharing the burden, usually. It is born of idleness. What do people do when they are idle? They live idlely, and take up only that which brings them pleasure, like jewelry for their lives, decorating themselves with the body of a man or woman lying beside them in the night. And marriage approached like this seems to work in the opposite direction of that of the poor's...first, it begins with love, passionate, abiding love. Then, perhaps, it fades to like. Then, perhaps, to a form of respect founded in sharing life. Then, even that fades. Then, one or both realizes who exactly they are stuck with, and so end up seeking pleasure elsewhere.
I realize of course that in both cases I'm making huge generalizations about which I know absolutely nothing, being a lower middle class, unwed chameleon myself. But that's the way I'm thinking while reading this book.
People are not means, and nor are people jewels. But of the two, I have to admit the way of the poor seems most sensible. Doesn't make it any easier or quicker to select a good mate, in fact, I'm sure it makes it quite a bit harder, as the truly poor can't afford a divorce....but it does make me wonder if we now put far too much emphasis on love in the marriage (the passionate, beginning kind) here in the modern, western world, and not enough on carefully selecting mates who will be useful to us, and to whom we ourselves can be useful.
I'd rather have an O'Lan than a Lotus any day of the week. Yes; a fine read. Although The Stranger is good as well, this is much more taste and style. Only a couple more chapters to go!
**Edit upon finishing book: loved it! [So mad at the sons.] Both sweeping and finely developed. Good choice.
Okay, so I'm almost finished with The Good Earth. I like it. Go read it, yes. Pretty much any book I review that doesn't begin with "THIS IS A PILE OF SHIT ON PAPER!" is likely to be a good read, since I tend to do classics. There are just too many, you see. Too many good books, and not enough time.
Anywhosers, it's the story of a man, Wang Lung, in China (damned if I should have taken that Chinese civ. class in college, because I have no idea in what era it is set and am too prideful to go look!--I've narrowed it down to the 1850's to the late 1920's; but that's it). Well, it's the story of Wang Lung, his family, community, and the ways of China at large, from what I can tell. And it's nice to read. The words are prettily constructed, and the thesis is clear, the characters real, the plot involving. I don't want to go too much into it, because I've read almost to the end and don't want this to be a spoiler review.
What I like most about really good reads is the way they get your mind going. Now this book, as you can tell from the title, is focused on the land--in some ways it reminds me of Gone With the Wind, but only marginally so, because of the way Wang Lung is so bound to the earth which nourishes him. So one would think this kind of thing is what my brain would be whirring on about. And to some extent, it is; earth, class, philosophy...all these are explored thoroughly.
But really what gets my braing going in this are the two very different outlooks the poor and the rich have considering marriage. Who knows about the middle class; I've not yet tackled that. But yes.
In the book--and I think it's fair to say in real life, as well--the [sensible, good] poor approach marriage not as a social duty, or a godly duty, or anything so high and mighty. It is a means. To the poor, life = poverty, and joining with another adult of similar mind/etc. is a good way to share the burden. Two able bodies under one roof is better than one able body under one roof. Eventually, if each works toward the same end under that roof, then they will grow to respect each other, then perhaps even like each other, and then maybe, just maybe, love each other. But loving outright is for the rich, for the poor cannot afford to make a life decision--like saying "I do" to someone and then be stuck with that someone for an entire life--on a whim like love. Not to mention there's no real idle time for money for courting. And there's too much riding on it. Not to say the opposite doesn't happen, and frequently, but I'm talking about the marriages among the poor that last.
In the book--and again, I'd guess in real life--the [sensible, good] rich approach marriage sometimes as a social or godly duty, but mainly as a source of pleasure. To the rich, life = pleasure, and what better way to live than to fill one's life with beauty and grace and seemly things, like the love of a man or a woman. It has nothing to do with sharing the burden, usually. It is born of idleness. What do people do when they are idle? They live idlely, and take up only that which brings them pleasure, like jewelry for their lives, decorating themselves with the body of a man or woman lying beside them in the night. And marriage approached like this seems to work in the opposite direction of that of the poor's...first, it begins with love, passionate, abiding love. Then, perhaps, it fades to like. Then, perhaps, to a form of respect founded in sharing life. Then, even that fades. Then, one or both realizes who exactly they are stuck with, and so end up seeking pleasure elsewhere.
I realize of course that in both cases I'm making huge generalizations about which I know absolutely nothing, being a lower middle class, unwed chameleon myself. But that's the way I'm thinking while reading this book.
People are not means, and nor are people jewels. But of the two, I have to admit the way of the poor seems most sensible. Doesn't make it any easier or quicker to select a good mate, in fact, I'm sure it makes it quite a bit harder, as the truly poor can't afford a divorce....but it does make me wonder if we now put far too much emphasis on love in the marriage (the passionate, beginning kind) here in the modern, western world, and not enough on carefully selecting mates who will be useful to us, and to whom we ourselves can be useful.
I'd rather have an O'Lan than a Lotus any day of the week. Yes; a fine read. Although The Stranger is good as well, this is much more taste and style. Only a couple more chapters to go!
**Edit upon finishing book: loved it! [So mad at the sons.] Both sweeping and finely developed. Good choice.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Reading List Review--The Stranger
There's a movie quote which runs something like, "Why does existentialism have to be so damned depressing? Yes, life is meaningless, and yes, we are all going to die, but is that necessarily a sad thing?" And while I do agree with some existential tenets, I also happen to agree with this [possibly butchered] quote. Existentialism does seem very damned depressing...when if there really is no meaning to life, you'd think that would make you wanna have some fun....But that's just me, and I digress.
I think there is, on the other hand, something equally intriguing about being the type of person who is wonderfully grim and blase about the depressing facts of life in general. I confess I rather like absurdism, if only in stories; theories.
Enter The Stranger, by Camus, which I just read this afternoon.
Now, I am no philosopher, nor am I a literary critic of any sort. But I am a devourer of literature, and I like this kind of make-you-think writing. Yet several things struck me about this read.
As far as philosophy goes, you can tell that's what this book is about. It is not character driven. And, sadly, character-driven narratives seem to go much farther in reaching their audiences and in conveying their central theses. So the philosophy part, rather than subtly creeping into the book in little, softly worded monologues and tangential thoughts, is shoved up for the reader as if it were a feast. It's not as if you care for the main character; I don't even rightly remember his name. And I gather that is part of the point. You know; the whole I-am-nothing-you-are-nothing-who-needs-characters-anyway kind of thing.
But that doesn't necessarily mean it's an involving read. *shrug* Ironically, it was a page turner.
Not sure I bought into it, but I enjoyed it. Just as I realize the shallow-seeming character--who I must admit, is surprisingly relate-able--was purposeful, I also understand that the two-act plot was purposeful as well.
I just can't think of the last time I read something so very clearly split nicely and neatly in half. Very odd. Also, the best bits of writing--some truly beautiful, insightful phrasing, a real word craft--happen at the end of each sections. In my opinion, of course. I'd have to track down other two-act novels and have a go at them before deciding much about my liking or disliking the application here.
What I did not like was how the book depicted life as something which just...happens...to someone. So passive *imagine my lips curling in disgust*....bleh! Oh, woe is me, woe is me. Life is chasing me down, beating me up, being terrible, and there is nothing I can do about it because nothing matters anyway. Wahhn, whaann. Such utter drivel and nonsense! Gimme a story with people who have gumption, who make things in their life happen, rather than let life make things happen to them. Gimme Scarlet O'Hara as the protagonist of this book. Then again, no; that wouldn't fit...it'd have to be Ashlee, all maudlin and faithless in mankind. Scarlet's got too much fire and wouldn't let herself get caught in jail like this dud of a character... See? That's the problem. It's a catch 22 (let's see how many literary references I can work into one paragraph!!); what I detest about the book is its treatment, yet if the treatment were changed it would not be the same book.
Hmmm.
So, yes. There you have it. Life be damned. Nahh, I don't quite follow that. I'm more of the there-is-certainly-meaning-in-life-because-there-is-no-meaning-and-yet-here-we-are type of gal. And that's a cheery thought.
Ten points if you name the movie I attempted to quote earlier
I think there is, on the other hand, something equally intriguing about being the type of person who is wonderfully grim and blase about the depressing facts of life in general. I confess I rather like absurdism, if only in stories; theories.
Enter The Stranger, by Camus, which I just read this afternoon.
Now, I am no philosopher, nor am I a literary critic of any sort. But I am a devourer of literature, and I like this kind of make-you-think writing. Yet several things struck me about this read.
As far as philosophy goes, you can tell that's what this book is about. It is not character driven. And, sadly, character-driven narratives seem to go much farther in reaching their audiences and in conveying their central theses. So the philosophy part, rather than subtly creeping into the book in little, softly worded monologues and tangential thoughts, is shoved up for the reader as if it were a feast. It's not as if you care for the main character; I don't even rightly remember his name. And I gather that is part of the point. You know; the whole I-am-nothing-you-are-nothing-who-needs-characters-anyway kind of thing.
But that doesn't necessarily mean it's an involving read. *shrug* Ironically, it was a page turner.
Not sure I bought into it, but I enjoyed it. Just as I realize the shallow-seeming character--who I must admit, is surprisingly relate-able--was purposeful, I also understand that the two-act plot was purposeful as well.
I just can't think of the last time I read something so very clearly split nicely and neatly in half. Very odd. Also, the best bits of writing--some truly beautiful, insightful phrasing, a real word craft--happen at the end of each sections. In my opinion, of course. I'd have to track down other two-act novels and have a go at them before deciding much about my liking or disliking the application here.
What I did not like was how the book depicted life as something which just...happens...to someone. So passive *imagine my lips curling in disgust*....bleh! Oh, woe is me, woe is me. Life is chasing me down, beating me up, being terrible, and there is nothing I can do about it because nothing matters anyway. Wahhn, whaann. Such utter drivel and nonsense! Gimme a story with people who have gumption, who make things in their life happen, rather than let life make things happen to them. Gimme Scarlet O'Hara as the protagonist of this book. Then again, no; that wouldn't fit...it'd have to be Ashlee, all maudlin and faithless in mankind. Scarlet's got too much fire and wouldn't let herself get caught in jail like this dud of a character... See? That's the problem. It's a catch 22 (let's see how many literary references I can work into one paragraph!!); what I detest about the book is its treatment, yet if the treatment were changed it would not be the same book.
Hmmm.
So, yes. There you have it. Life be damned. Nahh, I don't quite follow that. I'm more of the there-is-certainly-meaning-in-life-because-there-is-no-meaning-and-yet-here-we-are type of gal. And that's a cheery thought.
Ten points if you name the movie I attempted to quote earlier
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