An Update.

Wow. I meant to update this blog way sooner than this. I'm horrible at making myself do things. I've taken the last two months to just be. Be lazy, be productive, be thankful, be bored and be a million other things. Mostly be a procrastinator, one of my many faults. 

I read a lot of books last winter during my forced break from the blog. Some were on my list and some weren't. A few were great, most were good. All kept me company and kept my thoughts occupied, my brain sharp. I really do love to read. I'm sure you've got that by now but I seriously don't know what I would do if I had no books within my reach. I can live without television, internet and the phone, without seeing people on a regular basis, without conversation. But I don't think I could live without books, without a good story.

One that stands out in my mind was "Gone With The Wind" by Margaret Mitchell (Number 43 on my list). I enjoyed this book, truly. It was a long read but once I got about two-three chapters in, I was happy that I would be immersed in the world of Scarlett and Rhett for a while. America before, during and after the Civil War was an interesting time, made more so by silly and petty Scarlett O'Hara. What amazed me most about her was how she started out so spoiled, went through all the things she went through but never really grew as a character. She married, she was widowed, she saved her family's plantation, she worked like a man, she married again, she had children, she lost a child... Life really happened to this chick. And after all this, she was still a shallow, selfish person who was deserted by the one man she should have loved right from the start. Not that Rhett shouldn't have left - trust me, I wanted him to leave her. I would have left her a long time before he did, were I in his place. She took everyone for granted. She was bothered by everyone, annoyed by being needed. She never really enjoyed anything but money and superficial friends, parties and material things. It's been a while since I've disliked a character so much. I kinda enjoyed my distaste for Scarlett though, if I can be honest. I liked disliking her.

I watched the movie (starting to become a habit of this project: read the book, watch the movie) after I finished reading the book and while I enjoyed the movie, so much of the book was left out. If you ever have to choose between the book and the movie, read the book. The movie is a quick, condensed, Hollywood retelling of the book. You get more of a love for the story from the book.

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (Number 47 on my list) was a difficult read. I've heard authors state in interviews that they didn't really understand this book the first time they read it, but that picking it up later on for a second time proved to be more educational.  It's descriptive, dark, and interesting. The human soul is a dark, dark place, is what I have taken away from this book on my first read. 

Here is an excerpt, one I really like for the descriptive qualities of the book:

"A slight clinking behind me made me turn my head. Six black men advanced in a file, toiling up the path. They walked erect and slow, balancing small baskets full of earth on their heads, and the clink kept time with their footsteps. Black rags were wound round their loins, and the short ends behind wagged to and fro like tails. I could see every rib, the joints of their limbs were like knots in a rope; each had an iron collar on his neck, and all were connected together with a chain whose bights swung between them, rhythmically clinking. Another report [gunshot] from the cliff made me think suddenly of that ship of war I had seen firing into a continent. It was the same kind of ominous voice; but these men could by no stretch of imagination be called enemies.  They were called criminals, and the outraged law, like the bursting shells, had come to them, an insoluble mystery from over the sea. All their meagre breasts panted together, the violently dilated nostrils quivered, the eyes stared stonily uphill. They passed me within six inches, without a glance, with that complete, deathlike indifference of unhappy savages."

Can't you just see the scene? Hear the panting breath of the so-called criminals as they make their way up the path? I love the sentence "They were called criminals, and the outraged law, like the bursting shells, had come to them, an insoluble mystery from over the sea." Living peacefully one day in your own brand of community and the next, strangers from across the sea thrust their version of law, of existence down your throat and call you a criminal, tie you to your fellow man and force you into slavery. Heart of darkness, is right. 

"The mind of man is capable of anything - because everything is in it, all the past as well as all the future."

 Beautiful. 

Interesting little factoid I discovered while doing random research about Heart of Darkness is that although English was Conrad's third language, he is generally considered one of the greatest writers of fiction in the English language. Quite the accomplishment.

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold (Number 114 on my list) is a painful story about a young girl who is raped and murdered. It was made into a movie in 2009 (such a gorgeous film by Peter Jackson, full of color and of light) so I knew what it was about and I knew it would make me cry because it affected me deeply. It's a beautiful story, an insanely heartbreaking but uplifting story that needed to be told. This is one of those books that I will remember forever. I could be 98 years old, living in a rest home and see a copy of this book and I would immediately think "Susie Salmon, like the fish" and remember the cornfield, the place under the earth, the sinkhole. I love this story. It left a mark on my heart.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon (No. 104 on list) was a quick, easy read. I finished it in 8 hours. I enjoyed this book. It taught me about Autism from the point of view of an Autistic boy. I could read it again and enjoy it just as much as the first time. 

The Fellowship of the Rings by J.R. Tolkien (First book of No. 113 on list). Here, I hit a snag. I started it. I put it down. I started it again. I put it down. I started and finished another book, then picked Lord of The Rings back up again but still no good. Still didn't finish it. It's not a fun read. I'm so confused... I loved the movies. I should enjoy the books! I've never had this problem before. I just can't seem to get into the story because of the endless description. I talked it over with two friends who have read the series and they both agreed: Too. Much. Description. We get it, the grass is green. The trees are tall. Gollum's annoying. Get on with the story, Tolkien.

I'll try reading it again someday.

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon (No. 126 on list). Oh, this made up for Lord of The Rings. Please, please, please: If you, anonymous person who might someday read this post, take nothing else away from this humble little project of mine, please read this book. If you are a book lover (and you must be. Why else would you be here?) you will love this book. A quote on the front from Stephen King called it "One gorgeous read" and that just sums it up completely. It is a beautiful, gorgeous read. It gave me goosebumps at one point! It inspired me to free form write late at night after reading a few chapters. Words came pouring out like my pen was possessed. The attraction to this book, for me, is not so much the story as a whole, but the writing itself. Here's an example:

A motionless figure stood out in a patch of shadow on the cobbled street. The flickering amber glow of a cigarette was reflected in his eyes. He wore dark clothes, with one hand buried in the pocket of his jacket, the other holding the cigarette that wove a web of blue smoke around his profile. He observed me silently, his face obscured by the street lighting behind him. He remained there for almost a minute smoking nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on mine. Then, when the cathedral bell struck midnight, the figure gave a faint nod of the head, followed, I sensed, by a smile that I could not see. I wanted to return the greeting but was paralyzed. The figure turned, and I saw the man walking away, with a slight limp. Any other night I would barely have noticed the presence of that stranger, but as soon as I'd lost sight of him in the mist, I felt a cold sweat on my forehead and found it hard to breathe. I had read an identical description of that scene in The Shadow of the Wind. In the story the protagonist would go out onto the balcony every night at midnight and discover that a stranger was watching him from the shadows, smoking nonchalantly. The stranger's face was always veiled by darkness, and only his eyes could be guessed at in the night, burning like hot coals. The stranger would remain there, his right hand buried in the pocket of his black jacket, and then he would go away, limping. In the scene I had just witnessed, that stranger could have been any person of the night, a figure with no face and no name. In Carax's novel, that figure was the devil.  

 

Another example:

"...The art of reading is slowly dying. That it's an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day."

I couldn't agree more.

Presently, I'm reading The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. The first book, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is one of the very few books from my childhood that I can remember exactly where I was when I discovered it, the kind of day it was and what the book cover looked like as I decided whether or not to read it. I don't think I knew that there were other books that followed it or I'm sure I would have read them when I was younger. I've been slowly reading it, saving it for nice, sunny days and taking it outside to sit and soak up the sun while I read about adventures in Narnia. It's quite good. It's very large, when all the books are compiled into one unabridged novel, so it's not a quick read. It's a book meant to be read aloud to children. C.S. Lewis was a very good writer.Very imaginative, very descriptive. I only have a few chapters left.

Next on my list is what I am anticipating to be a difficult read: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. This will be my first foray into Russian Literature and I'm sure it will be an eye-opener. 

Till next time....