Books Bought:
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
Sandman Vol. 10: The Wake by Neil Gaiman
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
Books Read:
The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
As you're all aware, Mr. Hornby writes a monthly in the Believer and this post is lifted directly from his premise. So before you all post comments about plagiarism, and all that Jazz, I'm stating it here first, "I'm an unoriginal sod and I'm stealing Nick Hornby's idea." Now that we're clear on that point, I'll take my pilfering one step further I'll begin with similar ground rules:
1) (Direct from page 14 of The Polysyllabic Spree) "I don't want anyone writing to point out that I spend too much money on books, many of which I will never read." It's my money and I can piss it away as I please.
2) Since me, nor none of my friends, are famous writers, you'll never have to worry about me writing about our works. I will however, shamelessly shill stuff related to this site or anything I find absolutely riveting.
3) Don't complain that I'm bragging about how much I read. There are people out there that read a lot more than me; Nick Hornby I'm looking at you.
But more about The Polysyllabic Spree later.
This month began with me taking two weeks holiday, so I spent 10 hours on a train riding to my hometown. This meant that I could sit and read The Road from cover to cover. Being perceptive people, you will all know that The Road was this year's winner of the Pulitzer Prize in fiction. And after A Million Little Pieces,Oprah only chooses critically acclaimed books for her book club; The Road was this year's second selection. With all that going for it I figured it would be a sure fire hit or a sure fire flop, either way I'd be entertained.
The Road is an engaging book about a man and a boy who walk (along a Road) across part of the US on their way to the pacific coast. The story is written in the third person (mostly) through the perspective of the man. The prose is well written and, at times, seemingly poetic. McCarthy paints us a wonderfully bleak portrait of a post-apocalyptic America; a world burnt and ridden with ash, each day as empty and gray as the next. The complex descriptions of the world are juxtaposed eloquently with the simplistic dialogue between the man and the boy. Despite the despondent landscape, the characters, and audience, remain hopeful; of what we're never sure.
I was certain this book was a winner until I read the last page. Like most writers writing a work they want to be critically recognized, they feel compelled to tell us what the book was about in the final couple of paragraphs, except, not in a "breaking the forth wall" kind of way. This tells us, one of two things, the author doesn't trust his story to convey the message or he doesn't trust his audience to be perceptive enough to get it. Either way, critics seem to love it when authors spoil their books with nonsense, I guess it makes them feel somehow deep when they understand (read, 'are told') the meaning.
After finishing The Road I was in a local bookshop, the one where I bought The Alchemist, and Dude behind the counter kept getting asked by patrons about The Road. He said, "There are only two authors in this store, there's Cormac McCarthy, and there's everyone else." He said this like four times in the twenty five minutes I was in the store. I thought to myself, I guess they don't have any Dickens or Hemingway, or, Christ forbid, any Dostoevsky in the store and after nearly shitting myself laughing I bought The Alchemist and left.
If you haven't read The Alchemist yet, go and read it now. It's okay, I'll waitHave you read it yet? Liar. The Alchemist, like The Road, is a book with a two word title. Oh, and it is also about a boy traveling on a quest to get somewhere (the Pyramids). The boy, or young man (Santiago, is eighteen), in The Alchemist is on a quest to fulfill his "Personal Legend". Along the way we meet a Gypsy, a King, a Crystal Shop owner, an Englishman, an Arab woman whom he falls in love with and an Alchemist. I avoided this book when it was released because it's filled with a bunch of pseudo-spiritual, new age-esque ideas about destiny and personal journeys.
Despite my aversion to such mumbo jumbo, I figure any book, which wasn't written by Stephen King or Danielle Steel or the like, that has been in print for ten years (I bought the tenth anniversary edition) is worth taking a look at. And to my surprise I was swept away on Santiago's journey within ten pages. It was like a torrent of sublimity that would only give you brief moments to gasp for air. The book is aptly described as waking up to watch the sun rise while the whole earth around you is silent with slumber, and somehow, you alone were permitted to take in the calmness and oneness of an unimaginably beauty. Even if you don't believe in the spiritual aspects of The Alchemist, you will have no choice but to marvel at its splendor. Now go read it!
Following my personal journey, or maybe just my lust to read more, I found myself browsing about the library. I was looking for a good chaser to follow The Alchemist, but didn't want to read anything too magnificent. I went to the literary criticism section and The Polysyllabic Spree caught my eye. I've read a couple of Hornby's other fiction works and while I was entertained, I was never enthralled by his work. Despite my lack of enthusiasm about Mr. Hornby's work, I borrowed the book. I'm glad I did.
There is little that can be said about The Polysyllabic Spree that hasn't been implied by the very fact that I'm writing this article. Nick Hornby's quick wit and engaging writing style led me to want to purchase a copy of the Believer. As a result, I went back to the local bookshop and after browsing around for a bit I found myself asking Dude (or Dud depending on your inclination), after he'd been told three more people about Cormac McCarthy, where it was and they didn't carry it. Figures. I will, as a result of reading this book seek out a copy of Housekeeping vs. the Dirt, the second compilation of hist articles from the Believer.
I skipped over Dune Messiah, and for good reason, I love Sci-fi and this book is a wonderful piece of fiction, complex, engaging, etc., however, if you don't know anything about the Dune series by now, then you're probably not interested. And there's little point to reviewing the second book in the series, when you are not likely to read, if you haven't already, the first. I didn't get a chance to read Salinger's Catcher in the Rye or Sandman volume 10. Be patient, I bought them on the penultimate day of the month.
I hope you enjoyed or at least read this article. I'll try and be back next month, yeah right, we all know how these flights of fancy work!
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
Sandman Vol. 10: The Wake by Neil Gaiman
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
Books Read:
The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
As you're all aware, Mr. Hornby writes a monthly in the Believer and this post is lifted directly from his premise. So before you all post comments about plagiarism, and all that Jazz, I'm stating it here first, "I'm an unoriginal sod and I'm stealing Nick Hornby's idea." Now that we're clear on that point, I'll take my pilfering one step further I'll begin with similar ground rules:
1) (Direct from page 14 of The Polysyllabic Spree) "I don't want anyone writing to point out that I spend too much money on books, many of which I will never read." It's my money and I can piss it away as I please.
2) Since me, nor none of my friends, are famous writers, you'll never have to worry about me writing about our works. I will however, shamelessly shill stuff related to this site or anything I find absolutely riveting.
3) Don't complain that I'm bragging about how much I read. There are people out there that read a lot more than me; Nick Hornby I'm looking at you.
But more about The Polysyllabic Spree later.
This month began with me taking two weeks holiday, so I spent 10 hours on a train riding to my hometown. This meant that I could sit and read The Road from cover to cover. Being perceptive people, you will all know that The Road was this year's winner of the Pulitzer Prize in fiction. And after A Million Little Pieces,Oprah only chooses critically acclaimed books for her book club; The Road was this year's second selection. With all that going for it I figured it would be a sure fire hit or a sure fire flop, either way I'd be entertained.
The Road is an engaging book about a man and a boy who walk (along a Road) across part of the US on their way to the pacific coast. The story is written in the third person (mostly) through the perspective of the man. The prose is well written and, at times, seemingly poetic. McCarthy paints us a wonderfully bleak portrait of a post-apocalyptic America; a world burnt and ridden with ash, each day as empty and gray as the next. The complex descriptions of the world are juxtaposed eloquently with the simplistic dialogue between the man and the boy. Despite the despondent landscape, the characters, and audience, remain hopeful; of what we're never sure.
I was certain this book was a winner until I read the last page. Like most writers writing a work they want to be critically recognized, they feel compelled to tell us what the book was about in the final couple of paragraphs, except, not in a "breaking the forth wall" kind of way. This tells us, one of two things, the author doesn't trust his story to convey the message or he doesn't trust his audience to be perceptive enough to get it. Either way, critics seem to love it when authors spoil their books with nonsense, I guess it makes them feel somehow deep when they understand (read, 'are told') the meaning.
After finishing The Road I was in a local bookshop, the one where I bought The Alchemist, and Dude behind the counter kept getting asked by patrons about The Road. He said, "There are only two authors in this store, there's Cormac McCarthy, and there's everyone else." He said this like four times in the twenty five minutes I was in the store. I thought to myself, I guess they don't have any Dickens or Hemingway, or, Christ forbid, any Dostoevsky in the store and after nearly shitting myself laughing I bought The Alchemist and left.
If you haven't read The Alchemist yet, go and read it now. It's okay, I'll waitHave you read it yet? Liar. The Alchemist, like The Road, is a book with a two word title. Oh, and it is also about a boy traveling on a quest to get somewhere (the Pyramids). The boy, or young man (Santiago, is eighteen), in The Alchemist is on a quest to fulfill his "Personal Legend". Along the way we meet a Gypsy, a King, a Crystal Shop owner, an Englishman, an Arab woman whom he falls in love with and an Alchemist. I avoided this book when it was released because it's filled with a bunch of pseudo-spiritual, new age-esque ideas about destiny and personal journeys.
Despite my aversion to such mumbo jumbo, I figure any book, which wasn't written by Stephen King or Danielle Steel or the like, that has been in print for ten years (I bought the tenth anniversary edition) is worth taking a look at. And to my surprise I was swept away on Santiago's journey within ten pages. It was like a torrent of sublimity that would only give you brief moments to gasp for air. The book is aptly described as waking up to watch the sun rise while the whole earth around you is silent with slumber, and somehow, you alone were permitted to take in the calmness and oneness of an unimaginably beauty. Even if you don't believe in the spiritual aspects of The Alchemist, you will have no choice but to marvel at its splendor. Now go read it!
Following my personal journey, or maybe just my lust to read more, I found myself browsing about the library. I was looking for a good chaser to follow The Alchemist, but didn't want to read anything too magnificent. I went to the literary criticism section and The Polysyllabic Spree caught my eye. I've read a couple of Hornby's other fiction works and while I was entertained, I was never enthralled by his work. Despite my lack of enthusiasm about Mr. Hornby's work, I borrowed the book. I'm glad I did.
There is little that can be said about The Polysyllabic Spree that hasn't been implied by the very fact that I'm writing this article. Nick Hornby's quick wit and engaging writing style led me to want to purchase a copy of the Believer. As a result, I went back to the local bookshop and after browsing around for a bit I found myself asking Dude (or Dud depending on your inclination), after he'd been told three more people about Cormac McCarthy, where it was and they didn't carry it. Figures. I will, as a result of reading this book seek out a copy of Housekeeping vs. the Dirt, the second compilation of hist articles from the Believer.
I skipped over Dune Messiah, and for good reason, I love Sci-fi and this book is a wonderful piece of fiction, complex, engaging, etc., however, if you don't know anything about the Dune series by now, then you're probably not interested. And there's little point to reviewing the second book in the series, when you are not likely to read, if you haven't already, the first. I didn't get a chance to read Salinger's Catcher in the Rye or Sandman volume 10. Be patient, I bought them on the penultimate day of the month.
I hope you enjoyed or at least read this article. I'll try and be back next month, yeah right, we all know how these flights of fancy work!