Category Archives: Books
Let’s start with
Unfortunately, I finished not a single one of the 10 600+ page books I had as my original goal, as I found it difficult to get into long books during school (especially while completing my thesis), and harder to lug them around on the subway after I started working. My new goal was to read 42 (because, why not?), and I’m happy to say that I managed 43. Hurrah.
This was a great year for books. Nine 5-star reviews (more than I’ve given in any other year), a few old favourites, several new favourite books and authors, three total duds, and plenty of amazing, memorable reads that I’m sure I’ll be thinking about for a long time to come (notably: Shrill, NOS4A2, What Happened, Moneyball, Big Little Lies, Being Mortal, The Female of the Species, and The Hate U Give).
For fun, I took note of the amount of ebook/hard copy books (19/24), female/male authors (23/20), and fiction/non-fiction genres (18/25) I read this year, and was unhappy with the ratio of the latter. Goal for next year: read more fiction. Also, I think for next year I’m going to try to read only books I’m currently reading, and not start any new ones until those are done. I’m “in the middle” of more than 60, according to Goodreads, and that’s just nonsense.
The Last Jedi, Thor: Ragnarok, Three Billboards, The Big Sick, Lion, Moonlight, Lego Batman, What We Do in the Shadows, When Harry Met Sally = the good
Sister Act, Kingsman 2, Ant-Man, Big, Hocus Pocus = the mediocre
Halloween Town = the ugly
The Good Place, Big Mouth, Stranger Things, Jane the Virgin, Fargo = the good
The Crown, This Is Us, 70000th re-watch of Friends (including s6-10) = the mediocre
The Gifted, Murdoch Mysteries = the ugly
Ugh, where to begin. I’m not going to go into politics and current events. We all know it’s been an utterly exhausting, infuriating, emotionally draining shit show. Much of my personal year was along similar lines – depths of depression I haven’t had to reckon with since 2010, changes in meds, school issues, personal drama, endless job interviews leading nowhere, money troubles, York, the TTC, fucking SHINGLES. Around June or July, I was reading some old WordPress articles for some reason (some actual reason, I just can’t remember what it was) when I came across my post on my decision to run a marathon for my 100 Things To Do In 1000 Days project back in 2013. I read this:
Right now, I have had no luck finding a job. I find myself in the default setting of the modern 20-somethings these days: drifting. I’m living at home again. I’m not ready to go back to school, but I’m not ready to settle into a career. I’m over-qualified for the work I want to do right now, and under-qualified for the jobs that everybody thinks I should have. I’m trying to save money for the next step, but in which direction is that step going to be?
You know. The usual.
I’m really good with big ideas. I’m really bad with figuring out how to make them happen before spiraling into an overwhelmed basket-case of depression and self-utter-loathing. “How dare you set yet another goal for yourself and not achieve it? God, you’re utterly useless.” I want to be a marine biologist, or a travel writer, or a photographer, or a genetic counselor. Or all of those things. I want to be finished my B.Sc. I want to finish writing my book. I want to start that travel website. This isn’t a new thing. Sometimes my life feels like a trail of half-finished or discarded projects. […] I’m just filled with the best of intentions.
I’ve always wanted to be doing big things, great things. I tested high in IQ, and I thought that meant I’d be finished grad school by now. Instead, I can’t even get hired by McDonald’s. I don’t apply for awesome internships or challenging workplaces because I cannot see myself succeeding in them. All I see is myself letting everybody down. I see in my future an under-realised life. I’ll work temp jobs for a while, I’ll be the crazy aunt in scarves, I’ll end up getting a small apartment and dying alone with my dogs, probably in a bit of debt. It will have been a reasonably happy, mostly mediocre life. My family and friends will be sad, and in 5 years, it will be like I was never on Earth.
My god, you guys. I fucking BAWLED. “Four years later and it’s all exactly the same. I didn’t even run a full marathon. Nothing has changed. I’ve done nothing. I’m a loser. McDONALD’S STILL WON’T HIRE ME EVERYTHING SUCKS AND HAS ALWAYS SUCKED AND WILL SUCK FOREVER MORE.”
It’s not like everything changed all at once. This was pre-shingles, after all. But after deciding to end my schooling, at least for the time being, in August, things started looking up. I got a job, a job that pays money, a real, adult job, with benefits. Starting paying down some loans. Read a lot. Remembered I had friends and indulged my social life. Looking at that old post today, at the end of December, there are some things I’d like to celebrate.
Yeah, I still live at home, and I don’t have my B.Sc. I haven’t gone anywhere in 2 years and have no current plans to, no matter how desperately the travel bug itches. I’ve put on some weight, and I still kind of suck at remembering to talk to people.
But look here, you. (me.) You haven’t done nothing. Since that post, you got a TESOL certificate and taught English in Korea. You also went to Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, Japan (twice), Taiwan, Singapore, Hong Kong, Macao, San Francisco, Hawaii, and New York. You climbed mount Fuji, ran a half-marathon, went bungee jumping, made hundreds of new friends, all over the world. Since 2013, you’ve read 142 books. This year, I wrote a thesis, got a job in a journalism-related field (who’d have thunk?), finally got my driver’s license, and had a lot of good days (I’d like to remember the ax-throwing, cider-tasting, 30th birthday surprise, Sister Act musical, Jurassic Park in Concert, and the Torgo-tastic uncut Manos, in particular). What more can you really ask for?
I’m so grateful for my friends and family, who dragged me through the bad days and helped me make the most of the good ones. Good bye 2017, you mixed bag of fury, despondency, joy, love, life. Looking forward to making your acquaintance, 2018. May you be heavier on the latter than the former.
Every year, I set myself a goal for a minimum number of books to read over the next 12 months. Usually, that number is above 30, which is more than manageable when I’m not at school, and a good thing to strive for when I am. The problem is, the higher the number, the less likely I am to read books that will take a long time to finish, especially nearing the end of the year. Which means many of those giant bricks sitting on my shelves never get read.
I’ve wanted to do this for a while, so:
Here are the 10 (.5?) monster books I will read in 2017. Criteria: A book I own that’s more than 600 pages and, ideally, that has been gathering dust for a few years.
That’s less than a book a month. You can do this.
(There are two – really three – copies of Les Mis because I don’t know which one I want to go for yet. Maybe if I’ll do both – or all, if I’m ahead of schedule.)
- H.P. Lovecraft – The Complete Fiction
- 1098 pages
- exception #1 to the dust-gathering rule because I borrowed it from a friend, and if it’s not included on this list, he’s never getting it back
- Steven Pinker – The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined
- 802 pages (696 pages not including index and notes)
- owned since 2011
- Jeff Smith – Bone: The Complete Cartoon Epic in One Volume
- 1332 pages
- owned since approx. 2013?
- Howard Zinn – A People’s History of the United States: 1492-Present
- 745 pages (688 pages not including bibliography, index, and notes)
- owned since I don’t even know, 2010 maybe?
- Ron Chernow – Alexander Hamilton: The Ten Dollar Founding Father Without a Father
- 818 pages (738 pages not including notes, bibliography, and index)
- exception #2 to the dust rule; owned since a few months ago, but I really wanna reeeeaaaad iiiiiiittttttttt
- Ayn Rand – The Fountainhead
- 704 pages
- my mom’s, so “owned” at least 30 years
- Michael Palin – Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years
- 650 pages (608 not including index)
- owned since 2007
- Jonathan Franzen – The Corrections
- 609 pages
- owned since no idea
- Eleanor Catton – The Luminaries
- 832 pages
- owned since 2013
- Victor Hugo – Les Miserables (translated by Lee Fahnestock & Norman MacAfee based on the C.E. Wilbour translation)
- 1462 pages
- owned since approx. 2013/2014 I think?
- I also have half of the C.E. Wilbour translation. If I can get the other half, I might switch to it instead, or add it to the list…
- Victor Hugo – Les Miserables (translated by Norman Denny)
- 1232 pages (1200 not including appendix)
- owned since approx. 2013/2014 I think?
Total pages: 9052
Total pages not including extras: 8767 (Huh. That’s not as better as I had hoped…)
Well, I’ve read over 7000 pages during each of the last 6 years, according to Goodreads, so this should be okay.
(I would also like to note that there are at least enough bricks left in my room for me to do this at least one more time.)
Just a quickie update on #62 (just in case you didn’t read the title): I have now finished half the books, and it’s not even June yet. Hurray! Unfortunately, it seems I have finished shorter and/or smaller books, because the damned shelf still looks more than half full. Ah well.
Currently, I am in the middle of Kurt Vonnegut’s Sirens of Titan.
Books on The Shelf:
I, Mona Lisa – Jeanne Kalogridis We Are here – Ellen Cassedy If Only They Could Talk – James Herriot
- Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell – Susanna Clarke
- The Piano Man’s Daughter – Timothy Findley
The Big Sleep – Raymond Chandler Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas – Hunter S. Thompson High Fidelity – Nick Hornby
- The Glass Castle – Jeannette Walls
- The Transformation – Catherine Chidgey
- Late Nights On Air – Elizabeth Hay
Barney’s Version – Mordechai Richler
- The Age of Innocence – Edith Wharton
- The Sirens of Titan – Kurt Vonnegut
- Schindler’s Ark – Thomas Keneally
- Black Swan Green – David Mitchell
- Exodus – Leon Uris
- Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
- Water for Elephants – Sara Gruen
The Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde The Importance of Being Earnest – Oscar Wilde Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass – Lewis Carroll
- Loving Frank – Nancy Horan
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
- The Devil in the White City – Erik Larson
The Old Man and the Sea – Ernest Hemingway Survival Kit – Zuzana Sermer The Road – Cormac McCarthy The Joy Luck Club – Amy Tan
- Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress – Dai Sijie
- A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
Stargirl – Jerry Spinelli
- The Sisters Brothers – Patrick deWitt
Lamb – Christopher Moore How To Be A Woman – Caitlin Moran
- Elements of Style – E. B. White
I read a LOT of Holocaust lit as a kid (Jasper, Lisa, Daniel’s Story, Endless Steppe, Number the Stars, Diary of Anne Frank, Devil’s Arithmetic, and more). I know I watched Schindler’s List in middle school, but I don’t remember if seeing that movie was what led me to the books, or whether the timing was coincidental. At any rate, after my young adult binge, I…never really touched the topic since. It can be so exhausting to mentally put yourself in that place (thank god, of course, that I have the luxury of taking the break).
But last year, I began working at the Azrieli Foundation, which publishes the memoirs of Holocaust survivors who immigrated to Canada. At the time, they had published 20 English language stories, although I believe that number is now 21. I was given the entire library to read, and it took me about a month to work myself up to the challenge.
What finally pushed me to start reading the books were the videos. The Foundation has also begun releasing short movies of survivors who have published memoirs with them. The movies feature a mix of book excerpts, interviews with the authors, and animation. I watched these videos during an afternoon of booth-manning, and not only did I finally feel ready to read the books, I also felt like I needed to. The videos were incredibly effective because once you hear them speak, and see them communicate, you (or at least I) feel the need to know them better.
Zuzana Sermer is a very thoughtful and articulate woman, and her memoir is probably the most novelistic of the ones I’ve read. One simile that really stuck with me was her comparison between Communism and zoos, and war, somewhat, and jungles. “Inhabitants of a zoo may be safe,” she writes, “but they are helpless captives without the richness that makes life worth living.”
I’ve reviewed 4 of these memoirs already. It’s difficult to find new things to say after reading and reviewing so many of a similar type of book, so I’m going to end with the following, which comes from my previous review and states my feelings as clearly as I can phrase them:
These people come from all over the world and have experienced anything from convents to concentration camps. I don’t feel comfortable rating these books – they’re personal and historical documents, not intentional works of literature, so I’m temporarily shelving my star system for now. However, I did want to review them, because I think they deserve to be read, thought about, and remembered.
Each memoir is unique and fascinating, and each has a worthy and important story to tell. On the one hand, this is so obvious as to become trite (everyone has a story to tell! everyone is important!), but on the other hand, it is an important reminder that we can never know the full story of any situation, and there are as many sides to the same story as there are people to tell it.
Cannonball Read: 46/52
(Cannonball Read V: 7/36)
The last time I wrote a book review (Stargirl), I began by saying, “I have been incredibly busy lately finishing up the memoir project, as the deadline for the completed manuscript is the end of this month. So perhaps staging this “one post per day” nonsense could have waited until next month, but oh well.”
Then it turned into a 600+ word review, so I got rid of that intro. But I’m using it for this review, because damn, February was a stupid month to choose for this project.
First, I would like to point out that if you are going to have a book take place in Britain, with characters from Britain, consisting of the letters that these British characters from Britain are writing to other British Britains, then you bloody well spell “honour” with a U, dammit! I’m not sure who is to blame for this, the publishers, the editors, or the authors, but come. on.
As for the actual story itself? Well, I found it endearing. Of course, it was incredibly cutesy (like Stars Hollow on rainbows), and most of the main characters lacked any actual human flaws. Also, and this is a common problem in epistolary novels, most of the many different characters’ letters – male and female, old and young, educated/literary and not – read suspiciously like they were written by the exact same person. I’m sure developing a unique voice for 10+ original characters is a difficult job, but them’s the breaks if you choose to structure your novel through letter.
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society reminded me of nothing so much as The Secret Garden – so, so sickeningly sweet, and everyone is ridiculously wonderful, but you don’t really care because sometimes people really can be like that, and it works. There’s room in the world for books like this (and room for books like The Big Sleep, equally).
In short, hating this book is kind of like hating a litter of puppies. Most of the time, it’s just adorable and solves all the problems in the world, but every once in a while, if you’re feeling particularly bitter, all the cuteness might make you feel a bit…stabby.
Cannonball Read: 45/52
(Cannonball Read V: 6/36)
(Ok, this review also isn’t as short as I thought it would be. Hurrah for long-windedness.)
I think this might be the first book I’ve reviewed for the CBR that I haven’t actually enjoyed.* At all. And I was really hoping to, as I’m a huge fan of the mystery genre, Chistie and Doyle in particular.
Unfortunately, while the main mystery was somewhat intriguing, there wasn’t really much else for me to enjoy. I found it boring, and most of the similes laughable (the bad kind). The prose wasn’t good or original or magical enough to make the lack of any enjoyable or interesting characters worth suffering through.
But most of all, I didn’t like, nor was I interested in, any of the characters – Philip Marlowe was a dick (the bad kind), his client was a crank, his colleagues were personality-free, and the women. Oh, the women. There were three somewhat major female characters in The Big Sleep and not one of them was portrayed in an even slightly favourable light. I know a lot of classics from, well, any era prior to this one are written by and for the good old Boy’s Club, but there’s a difference between not having any interest in, or understanding of, women, and outright hate of them. Good grief, I’ve never read so much disdain in the description of a woman’s tiny, glistening, shark-like teeth before.
(And given all these other problems, I wasn’t feeling too keen on letting things like, “she had an intelligent Jewess face,” pass, regardless of the accepted cultural norms during Raymond Chandler’s tenure on Earth.)
Minutes before I finished the book I felt a huge wave of relief: 15 pages left to read and then I am free of Raymond Chandler’s miserable world with horrible people in it, forever.
I want to make it clear that I have no problem with the noir genre or grim material in general; but there has to be something in there for me, and I just found this book incredibly off-putting. I would also like to note that I am aware this was Chandler’s first novel, and would be happy to give The Long Goodbye or similar a chance if anyone would like to suggest an improvement in his later works.
I would also like to clarify that I am not dumping on those who consider this a classic. I’ve talked to live human people who are of this opinion, people I consider intelligent, and I guess your enjoyment of this book, more than some others, must depend on your circle of experience. For some people, Chandler’s descriptions might read as brilliantly, uncomfortably true, but for me…let’s just say I have never in my life met anyone who remotely resembled Carmen Sternwood, and I have a hard time even imagining anyone like her existing outside of either a mental institution, or a school for the developmentally disabled.
Some of it was quite funny, though. Even on purpose!
Cannonball Read: 43/52
(Cannonball Read V: 4/36)
*I mean, Accidental Billionaires was terrible, but at least it was entertaining. Survivor in Death and Aristotle and Poetic Justice were also pretty bad, though.
[Just a warning – this review is definitely going to suck more than usual because I’m in a hurry; I recently realised I’ve posted every day so far this month, and now I would like to continue the trend. Thank goodness the month I chose to do this during is February.]
Ok, so the book. I bought this one (yay gift cards!) because I read an excerpt in one of mom’s magazine’s which basically stated, in funnier terms, my exact views on feminism, which is, essentially, the following:
All right-thinking human beings should be as comfortable labeling themselves “feminists” as they might be stating that they are pro good things and anti bad things. Because, you see, women and men are equal and should be treated as such, and all people are different from one another in some way, and these people can always find another group of people who share a bit of the same differences. So whether you divide them into men and women, introverts and extroverts, Community fans and non-Community fans, all people have worth, and should be treated as such.
In short, to be a “feminist” is to believe that women and men are equal. It is not the belief that men are bad, or that women are better (although I am pretty sure Community fans > non-Community fans). And that excerpt pretty much restated that. But, as I said, funnier. So, in other words, I liked what Moran had to say, and went out and bought the book. You know: duh.
But as I flipped through it at home, I couldn’t really find anything I liked. She was talking about being in love with some obvious douchebag and presenting on TV at the age of 18, and all I could think was, “I wasn’t that stupid at 18, and I’ve never been on TV.” Because…logic.
I put the book aside. I mentioned in my review of Bossypants that How To Be a Woman was next up on the line of things to read, and as you might have noticed (or not – I am reviewing them mere days apart after all, because…time management), I didn’t get around to actually reading it until months later. You know, after I put it on my Shelf in order to force myself to read it, given that I had spent the money, and it was in my house.
SO I started actually reading it and found the first few chapters hilarious. Like, I was seriously rolling on the [bed] laughing at each of the first three chapters, scaring the hell out of the dog, and being totally been converted to use of the word “cunt.” Her tirade on the porn industry is hilarious and true. I also enjoyed the chapters on abortion and aging. And Nataly, if you’re reading this, I think you’ll really like the section on weddings.
I’ve read a lot of reviews that criticized Moran’s condemnation of the word “fat” while simultaneously calling people “retards” and making outlandish comparisons between that darned patriarchy and, for example, starving orphans, and I’m not sure this is entirely fair. For one thing, I didn’t read the “fat” chapter as an order to stop using the word, but more of a caution raising the awareness of what it can do to people. And for another, having scanned some reviews on Goodreads, it seems that the version I’m reading has been edited for the States, and I may be missing some of the more offensive phrasing. But mainly, she sticks to my preferred method of being obnoxious, which is to do it to all people equally, thus diluting its affect.
However, even when I disagreed with Moran’s points or conclusions, the tone of the book is friendly and conversational. I think part of what irritates people is the fact that her manner tends to suggest that her thoughts and opinions are the be-all and end-all, but I talk like that too, and that doesn’t mean I think that my word is the final word – it’s just a manner of speaking. We think it makes us sound funnier. So I’m less inclined to get my back up about the things I disagree with.
Of which there were plenty. Here are some notes I made while reading:
“Disagree vehemently about women doing nothing for 100,000 years, but if you can get past that, she has some interesting things to say.”
“…That is not how the sorting hat works.”
“You don’t know me, stop telling me to do things.”
“Wait, you don’t like Top Gear? Your arguments are dangerously close to becoming invalid.”
Really, How To Be a Woman succeeded far more as a funny memoir in the vein of Jenny Lawson‘s, and less as a feminist screed, but Moran has a lot of interesting things to say, and is fearless in saying them. Whether you agree with her or not, she gives you a lot to think about, and new ways to think about it. If you’re looking for something to read the next time you’re snowed in, you could do a lot worse.
Cannonball Read: 42/52
(Cannonball Read V: 3/36)
I never got into Philippa Gregory (should I rethink this?) or historical bodice rippers, so I really didn’t expect to like this book at all. Shows what I know.
Last summer, I spent 6 weeks in Italy (4 on an archaeology course, 2 travelling), and fell in love with Florence, as so many do. I’m not sure whether it would have been better to have read this book before the trip – although it probably wouldn’t have meant anything to me then. Now that I’ve experienced these places for myself, the locations and monuments are real, instead of fantastic imaginary fantasies. Reading the book now was kind of reliving that wonderful trip.
I, Mona Lisa is an alternative history of 15th and early 16th century Italy, centering around the character of Lisa Gherardini, also known as the Mona Lisa herself. The story follows Lisa’s life and the creation of the famous painting, and weaves it neatly into the tumultuous events occurring in and around Florence at the time. Kalogridis does take some incredible liberties with history and what we know of the Mona Lisa, but I’m actually not sure how much of that is her fault – the book was published in 2006 (therefore presumably written in 2004/2005), and a lot of what we know of the Mona Lisa came to light in 2005 (see the above link). At any rate, I’ve decided it would be helpful to read books like this with one hand on the keyboard and one eye on Google. That way, the author can draw you into history with intrigue (murder! sex! sword fights!) and atmosphere, and you can be sure not to replace recorded history with half-remembered fictions from some book you once read.
As for the story itself, I was really impressed at the portrayal of Lisa’s relationship with her father, and how the tragedy of fictional Lisa’s life is real tragedy, not princess tragedy, giving the story real stakes. I must confess I called most of the twists before they happened (save the double one), but still found the book compelling. It’s a lesson on how to write twists, really, because no matter how clever the author, someone is going to figure it out, always, so you might as well make the story enjoyable beyond the cheap tricks.
The themes of prophecy, repetition and drowning were very effectively done, and the skill with which concepts like religion, religious insanity, sympathy for murdered and the insane, art, and politics was comforting – I felt like I was in very good hands while reading the novel.
In short, I think I’ve been turned – I should read historical fiction more often. I, Mona Lisa may not have been too historically accurate on the personal life details, but it was great with the big picture, and the writing was engrossing. Plus, Jeanne Kalogridis seems like a super cool woman.
Cannonball Read: 41/52
(Cannonball Read V: 2/36)
I’ve read all of A.J. Jacobs’ “stunt” memoirs. The Year of Living Biblically was my favourite by far, but his first, The Know-It-All is pretty damn good, too*. My Life As A Guinea Pig is fine – it’s a collection of articles written for Esquire following the Jacobs’ theme of experimenting on himself.
Drop Dead Healthy is just as good as Biblically. I spent the entire week I was reading this book reading quotes out loud to everyone around me, and making notes to improve my own healthiness.
It’s not your average self-help diet and exercise book, there isn’t one simple program that he hawks. It’s a fairly broad overview of all that healthy living has to offer, told with minimal judgement (a tone I call “respectful skepticism”) – a lot like Mary Roach. It’s not surprising that I’m always reading endorsement quotes from one on the jacket flaps of the other. There are the expected chapters on exercise and diet (encompassing everything from mindful eating, caveman living, and the veggie smoothie diet), but, as usual, Jacobs goes several steps further; you’ll also find chapters on ear health, back health, hand health, and more.
Some standout chapters are those on sleep (hilarious and, for this insomniac, so so relevant), and the aforementioned back (utterly, surprisingly, hilarious). This is that wonderful type of book that will cause you to accidentally learn things while entertaining you effortlessly. As a wannabee musician and athlete, the information on finger fitness was especially intriguing. The information on Retina A/tretinoin was very nice to know. I’m totally going to do HIIT for *my* mini-marathon. And he shared some truly terrifying information about sugar that the willfully ignorant like myself may have missed.
So four-and-a-half stars for you, A.J., and I’m looking forward to reading the next one.
*After reading them yet another quote from the book, my parents asked if I remembered anything from The Know-It-All, and I got to show off all proudly my remembrance of aposiopesis and apotropeic names, so there. Although I do remember purposefully trying to memorize those ones back when I was reading it, for the sole purpose of retaining *some* information, so…
Cannonball Read: 40/52
(Cannonball Read V: 1/36)
“…As I learned in my year of living biblically, only by exploring the limits can you find the perfect middle ground.”
“If you could lock 10 thousand people in identical rooms for eighty years and feed half of them nothing but vegan food and feed the other half nothing but steak and eggs, and keep everything else the same, you could have some real data. But unless a Bond villain decides to pursue a doctorate in nutrition, that’s not going to happen.”
Reframing an airport security pat-down as a free massage? Hee.