2017 Reading Recap!!!

Happy New Year! Another year, another bunch of cold, hard numbers to try to corral my highly subjective and unpredictable reading. I know this annual summary is only of personal interest, so don't torture yourself if numbers aren't your jam. To start: I read 92 books this year, 45 of them novels. Some 40 were by female authors and 52 were by male writers, but if like Virginia Woolf and me, you too believe that Shakespeare's plays were written by his sister, then those numbers would be reversed. Seventeen of the books I read were translated and 18 (20%) were by writers of color. Reasonable numbers for me. Spreading my reading around, I read 19 works of nonfiction, though many were probably either biographies of writers or commentary on race relations in America. On the fiction front, I read about 30 classics (counting modern classics: Woolf, Beckett, Orwell, Toni Morrison, etc.), which is kind of a lot! There were 8 short story collections, 12 plays, but only 6 volumes of poetry, which was a bit disappointing. This really wasn't a good poetry stretch for me. I have to be in a certain mood to read poetry and that frame of mind was lacking this year. I'll try to redeem myself by saying that reading Shakespeare is a lot like reading poetry, and I did read 10 of his plays. Many more than I thought myself capable! For me, it seemed more of an intellectual reading year than an emotional reading year, and that's not really where I want to be. Hoping for more emotion in 2018, and obviously the surest way to do that is to start January reading about a small town of Brits in 1959. What could go wrong? Well, that's enough for the numbers. A list of my most interesting reads of 2017 is forthcoming. as well as a review of the aforementioned The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald. Hope 2018 is your best year ever!  🐢

Orlando: A Biography by Virginia Woolf (1928)

Fantastic events occur in the long life of an Elizabethan nobleman, er, woman.

Book Review: Orlando is an unfettered example of Virginia Woolf having too much fun. Who knew? In this amazing detour from her other novels, she uses all the tools at her disposal: sarcasm, irony, satire, humor, great heaps of silly as well as a small boatload of snark. Although reminiscent of Candide, here Woolf is in full-blown biographer guise (there's even an Index and eight photographs of Orlando) describing the random events of our aristocrat's picaresque life. The novel is really just an excuse for Woolf to expound (seriously and not so much) on the subjects she wants to talk about, spread over the three or four centuries of Orlando's life. She spends much of the book commenting on history, English society, writers and literature, the mechanics of writing, women's rights (and the lack thereof), the sexes, love and connection. Although there is a bit of gender bending, it's accomplished in a restrained and fairly chaste manner. No details or descriptions are given of the transformation and subsequent interactions. Not as radical as often portrayed. Orlando's life hits the traditional major moments. As Orlando was a major success (critical and financial) for Woolf, perhaps she knew what she was doing. Woolf's vivacity and wit are well displayed, with an endless number of great lines ready to highlight. Could she have done stand-up? We'll never know, but I'm sure she was great fun at tea parties. The novel slows in the later pages, but that does little to damage the entertainment and edification that came before. If Mrs. Dalloway or The Waves aren't your cup of tea, Orlando may be the hearty helping of Assam you need.  [4★]

"The Death of Ivan Ilych" by Leo Tolstoy (1886)

Suffering leads a man to examine his life.

Story Review: "The Death of Ivan Ilych," one of Tolstoy's later works (written after his great novels), is a simple story still relevant today. The author begins by painting the portrait of Ivan Ilych, a proper, successful government bureaucrat -- seemingly he has everything. These pages seem pointless at first, awaiting the final third of the story to reveal their meaning. Ilych's life is proper, but empty. He does everything correctly, studies hard, gets married, earns a prestigious job, rises to the top of his profession. He lives for "what was considered good by persons of higher position." But his life is unnatural, futile, his bureaucratic work has no purpose, is divorced from meaning. He always did what was expected of him by others, but never made his own choices. Ilych's only enjoyment was playing cards (the 19th Century version of video games), which he relished above all else, including time spent with his family. Later, the memory of these pleasures give him no relief -- only the help of a humble peasant will ease his pain (do I hear cymbals?). Yes, as is cleverly foreshadowed in the story's title, Ivan Ilych becomes mortally ill, suffers horribly, and in his existential crisis begins to search his life for meaning. Tolstoy gives his answer to this crisis, and while it may be the only reasonable interpretation of the story, it's not the only possible interpretation, and not the only meaning the reader can take away. Tolstoy is a writer, he knows the value of the vague and ambiguous. "The Death of Ivan Ilych" is somewhat dated in our post-existential age, but still a worthwhile meditation on life, dying, and death.  [4★]

Poem

Put It Away, Now

Put it away, now --

bike in the garage

shoes by the bench

notebook on the table

jacket -- closet.

Bus, school, homework

riding the bike

kneeling by the maple

wasn’t so much

we put it away.

Just small

behind the door

it all can be put away

put away childish things

nothing to say.

In a drawer, perhaps a cabinet

out of sight, where it’ll stay

if not there, then under

under is good, under the stairs

under the bed.

So many places

and put away it’s easily --

like it never.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (1878)

An aristocratic woman wants more from life. An aristocratic man wants more from life. They both get their wish.

Book Review: Anna Karenina is not as intimidating as we're led to believe. Much like root canals. Tolstoy writes clearly and efficiently, even repeating himself sufficiently to ensure the reader keeps up. The story is so well known that spoilers are part of our common heritage, but with Tolstoy that's irrelevant. Even knowing the ending, Anna Karenina is a journey worth taking. At heart, the story is about two people: Levin, a man who finds himself, and Anna, a woman who loses her way. Both are part of the wealthy, cultured class, the aristocracy, in which everyone seems to speak at least three languages. He is awkward, clumsy, a misfit. She is intelligent, charming, beautiful. She is of the city, distant from the peasants. He is a landowner, a farmer, of the land and works alongside the recently emancipated serfs. She aspires to be cultured and European, he rejects the influence of the West and desires to be closer to his Russian nature. He's in a practically perfect marriage, although insecure and overly jealous. She's in an unhappy marriage, which she forsakes for a dangerous romance, also tormented by insecurity and jealousy. Her insecurity stems from her precarious position as a scarlet woman, little of which taints her lover. She has no right to her child and is ostracized by her peers. I actually didn't get a full picture of her as a person till near the end of the book when we see her through Levin's eyes, which is the only time they meet. She has so much hunger for life, she wants so much, is capable of such rich feeling that it's especially cruel to see her circumscribed and punished. Both protagonists suffer an existential crisis at the end of the book, which neither of their lovers are capable of comprehending.

Two great strengths of the novel, layers of genius, brilliancies, are how Tolstoy gives such a complex, accurate evocation of the interior of every character, which then enriches a series of wrenching, all-too-human vignettes. He spends much of his writing from inside everyone's head, telling us what they're thinking and why they're thinking it. Motivation is carefully examined, people change their minds, and simply change. Even the dog Laska has a rich inner life. Tolstoy has a surprisingly strong sensitivity and support for women. Amazing. Many of the emotionally powerful moments are obviously drawn from Tolstoy's own life, such as his illustration of Levin's wedding, the birth of his child, the death of his brother. Even in his lengthy descriptions of farming, Tolstoy's writing exults in the joys of physical labor. There are many brilliant accounts of individual moments: Kitty's care of Levin's dying brother, Anna's love for her son, Karenin's transformations, Anna's disordered thoughts. This is Tolstoy's genius.

Although not suspenseful or compelling, the short chapters and many varied characters easily encourage continued reading. The book is just long (like a Russian winter), with enervating stretches that beg to be shortened for the modern reader. The sections about Levin are a bit less interesting, diluting the greater drama of Anna's life. Much of Levin is written from Tolstoy's own point of view, with the author eager to share his opinions on farming, politics, relationships, and more. He is loyal to the old world: good guys are of the land, bad guys are the effete, cosmopolitan, urban elites. In fact, much of the book promotes Tolstoy's philosophy, especially a theme of distancing Russia from European culture. Long tracts on farming, tangents on hunting, much mocking of politics. There are also involved descriptions of religion, especially during Levin's existential crisis.

Some of these moments are brilliant and enlightening, but in the end (for me) Anna Karenina is too long, unnecessarily long. To have tightened the book, to bring the wonderful scenes closer together, would've brought this book to all the people, instead of only those rarefied Westerners willing to climb the mountain. I know many people believe Anna Karenina is magnificent as written, but whether because of cultural differences, differences in how we read now, or just my own impatience and limitations, for me the length weakens the power and emotional impact.

A few random thoughts: my gosh do Russians really blush this much? It seemed the characters couldn't get through a conversation without a good, healthy flushing and blushing. And how are there so many princes and princesses? Also, although we think of Tolstoy was one of the great writers of eternity, timeless on his pinnacle, writing this all time classic, Anna Karenina is actually very much of its time and place, citing countless contemporary events, books, people, stores, and streets. It's not just a 19th Century novel, it's a novel of 1878. Finally, what a great first line -- when did we stop having great first lines?

I had access to three translations (Garnette, Maude, Pevear/Volokhonsky); all had positives and negatives (my Garnette edition wasn't edited, which some seem to think is the best). While reading I came across sentences that made me question the translation, when I'd think, "That's not how we say it English," or "That doesn't seem quite right." Then I'd consult all three versions. What sounded the best, seemed correct, appeared to be most accurate, varied among the three translations. I mostly read the P&V, but none stood out. If I could take parts of all three to make a clear, appropriate translation. One that read smoothly and like a book that had been written in English, instead of sounding translated. For instance, "You've done good deeds while with us," versus, "You've done good actions while with us."

Perhaps I'm a barbarian. Better readers will get more from the book than I did. For me it seemed long, and a book shouldn't seem long no matter how many pages it has (just as Austen's Emma is long). I'm not proud of it, but I don't think Anna Karenina is as necessary as I did before reading it. Certainly there was something to learn, certainly I'm glad I read it, certainly I'll still read War and Peace. In hindsight, I could've lived without reading it. Perhaps my time could've been spent on Middlemarch or Infinite Jest. I can recognize the genius that went into this masterpiece, but I also know I missed something, and remember the moments my attention wandered. At 350 pages, this would've been the book I expected.  [4★]

Sula by Toni Morrison (1973)

Nobel Prize Winner Toni Morrison's second novel is the story of a deep childhood friendship gone deeply wrong.

Book Review: Sula is lovely, magical, and sad. A short book, evoking a small town; it's tempting to think of it as aiming low, not trying to be too big. But like Emily Dickinson, Toni Morrison can find whole universes in the tiniest of incidents. The accumulation of small instances creates all of life and death (especially death) in our visit to Medallion, Ohio. Death filters through every page, can occur at any moment, is the only god that matters: "They did not believe death was accidental -- life might be, but death was deliberate." The two girls' friendship, Nel and Sula, is unalterably touched by death. The story occurs mostly within the black community, in black people's treatment of each other, good and bad, women and men, and coping with the trials and tribulations of their lives. Throughout there is the prophetic, the reader being told what's to come, just not how or why: "It would be ten years before they saw each other again, and their meeting would be thick with birds."

Morrison is such a beyond-talented writer. She's like a basketball player who can make all possible shots, so now she needs to try the impossible ones. Sometimes she relies on her dizzying literary pyrotechnics, her pile-driving poetry, instead of just telling the story. Morrison describes Sula one way, but Sula acts another. Nel asks Sula why she was so cruel. Sula doesn't answer. Morrison tries to explain Sula through some of her most poetic flights of dazzlement -- beautiful, awesome words in a book full of miraculous writing, but I still didn't understand Sula (my fault, I know). Why the cruelty? "How come you did it, Sula?" Nel and I both needed to know. "I was good to you, Sula, why don't that matter?" But because of the strength of this novel, I had to just accept Sula as an inexplicably disturbing and destructive force of nature, and go on.

Morrison's black enclave of the Bottom in Medallion, Ohio, reminded me of Zora Neale Hurston's writing about the (real) African American town of Eatonville, Florida. Both create a rich history, the families, stories, residents, customs of a real community supposedly untouched by the white world outside. The Bottom also has its own magical myths and impossible legends, strongly reminiscent of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Macondo, though instead of being set in the jungles of Colombia, Morrison sets her story in the jungle that is America. Whether Morrison read Garcia Marquez is immaterial, she creates her own individual vision and version of a reality inhabited by the fantastic and mythical, whether rooted in modern genres and narratives, or in wily African American folk tales, or American tall tales.

Sula has some of the most powerful, poetic writing I've ever read. At times it seems that Morrison is saying, "You think that was good? Watch me now!" Never seen to be showing off (or is she?), but always amazing, and sometimes her writing sends the reader soaring so high she fears she may never get back down. But the story has its foundation in a small town with a philosophy: "The purpose of evil was to survive it and they determined ... to survive floods, white people, tuberculosis, famine and ignorance. They knew anger well but not despair."  [4★]

"Cat Person" by Kristen Roupenian (2017)

From the current New Yorker comes a short story which has been the source of much discussion and dare I say it ... (dare! dare!) ... controversy.

Story Review: "Cat Person" is well-written, a compelling read, and as is thoroughly documented: thought provoking. The story, is quite simply, about a "relationship" between a young woman and a slightly older man. "Relationship" is in quotes because this story made me realize what a huge breadth of human interaction is contained in that now-almost-useless word. It's about the modern world of texting, hook-ups, and surface. Dating, perhaps. Believable, realistic enough, curious. No good guys or bad guys. "Cat Person" has caused quite a bit of discussion on the internet. Kristen Roupenian's story is open-ended, with plenty of space to form opinions, choose sides, get angry and self-righteous, to discuss morality, youth, common sense, women and men, culture. It's a story of our time like no other in a long while. Well worth reading. What impressed me in the story and subsequent discussion is that it's a mirror, a rorschach test. What readers take away from "Cat Person" says more about the reader, and less about the short piece itself. Readers will find some aspect of themselves here and they may not like what they see. For many it seems to be the "judging" side of their personality. The story is in the current issue of the New Yorker, is an e-book, but is also easy to find on the internet. Look it up, see what folks are talking about. See what you think.  [4★]