Thirteen Moons

I put this book down several times, reading it in fits and starts, but it ultimately grabbed my attention and led me into a different world. I loved Cold Mountain for its nineteenth-century rhythm and patient storytelling, and this second novel by Charles Frazier has the same incantatory feel and attention to detail. This time around, the love story is unbalanced, intentionally so, toward the male point of view. The narrator, Will Cooper, is an adopted Indian, a "bound boy" who finds his identity among the Cherokee clan run by his eventual adopted father, Bear. The love story is a deep, patient one similar to Cold Mountain in that it is a lifelong love, but the circumstances that separate man and woman differ from the previous novel -- Will falls in love with a married woman, not knowing she is married. Will does continue his love affair even after he finds out, but the transgression seems slight in Will's estimation. Claire is an enigmatic part of Will's life, more absent than present in Will's long life line. At the turning point in the novel, Will finds himself squarely in the center of the struggle for his Cherokee clan to remain in western Tennessee mountains, rather than be forcibly removed to Western territories (Oklahoma, I think). The decision Will makes to try to maintain an Indian home in the midst of major historical change separates him from his love. The central struggle of the novel is between this homeland and the forces of change, whether that be white settlers, the government, internal struggles, war, or even technology, which shows up at the very end in the form of the daguerrotype, the locomotive, and the automobile. Charles Frazier imagines this homeland -- it is not a real place -- but it feels authentic and important, and the history Frazier tells through his fiction is more true than the history in textbooks.

Ulysses (James Joyce)

Checked this out from the library and have to return it today to avoid late fees. I didn't get very far in, but I found it pretty fascinating so far. That is, despite being nearly and famously impenetrable, the writing is quite beautiful. The part I read is part 1, about Stephen Dedalus (sp?), recognizable as the hero of Joyce's The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, now slightly more grown up and teaching at a private school of some sort, I believe. The plot is slightly hard to follow, as it involves both events and non-events, and the narration is a panoramic stream-of-consciousness, slipping in and out of thoughts and insights either had or missed by the characters. Confused yet? Wait til I get to Leo Bloom, who is the hero of part 2 (some would say antihero, but I'm reserving judgment until I've read the whole thing). I only read about 20 pages in to part 2, and the parts I read were pretty fascinating. I understand the basic premise of the book is to describe the events of a single day, keeping to a classical unity, but there are more non-events than events, which turn a classic story like Ulysses (Latin for Odysseus) on its head. Instead of a heroic battle for life and death or a string of adventures, the novel depicts ordinariness in classic detail and with modernist techniques. So we are treated to an intimate portrait of Leo Bloom's bowel movement, shocking in its own way yet somehow of a piece with the novel as an examination of ordinary life. Also, we have the funeral that Leo decides not to attend and a conversation which ends with Leo expressing his desire not to talk to the man he just ran into. Leo is therefore very much an anti-hero, but I'm wondering if there is something redeeming in his ordinariness or if it is a literary device that just expresses despair. I think it's probably somewhere in between or beyond those two poles.
Anyway, those are my thoughts so far. I'll let you know if I get any further in the novel.

Books I Sold Today

I sold books to the used book store today and thought I'd record the ones I remembered I had and that they actually wanted:

William Burroughs -- Naked Lunch
Christopher Marlowe -- (three plays)
Aristotle -- Poetics
Plato -- Symposium
Marx -- Communist Manifesto
Weiland (an early American novel)
Whitman -- Leaves of Grass

Each one of these books is a part of my past that I surrendered for a meaningless dollar amount. Still, it feels somewhat good that someone else might find value in some of the books I owned. I hung on to a book from my travels in Germany, which is more of a souvenir than anything. It led to some storytelling with the owner of the book shop, which was nice. I may tell the story I told her later.

The Bottom Billion

World Bank economist Paul Collier attempts to first define and then resolve the problems of the poorest countries in the world through this ambitious economic argument of a book. He uses a broad economic analysis to define six traps that economies in what he calls the "bottom billion" fall into -- comparing economies across countries in a unique way, usually using statistics and lists originally compiled by other people, which he references in the back of the book. Collier offers some new insights based on this approach, and his packaging of the information is engaging. He avoids sounding academic or too analytical while offering a policy position. The book relies too much on international charters and similar measures as solutions, but the definition of challenges facing the poorest countries in the world is useful reading. He also provides a useful chapter on why aid or the wrong type of aid can make problems worse for these countries, which I hope will help shape aid packages in the future instead of being used as an argument against aid. Collier himself cautions that aid should still be given, though it probably needs to be more targeted and tied to specific "governance" goals, he says. All in all, a useful book, although I didn't finish it because the solutions he offers seem like too much "weak tea" in response to such major problems.

Bucky Katt's Big Book of Fun

I got this book from my brother for my birthday, and read it cover-to-cover. It had me laughing out loud often and for a variety of reasons. The characters are loosely based on a cat, a dog, and their "pet parent," Rob Wilco, who indulges his cat and his dog, takes them around to places, and generally treats them pretty well for all the messes they make. Darby Conley draws the cartoon strip "get fuzzy," and this book is a collection of his strips, I think. The cat is appropriately menacing and self-absorbed, the dog is lovably dopy like dogs are, and Rob Wilco is the straight man. It's great comedy, with subtle wit and not-so-subtle interspecies jokes. I like the relationships between the characters and the way they are just slightly exaggerated versions of recognizable cat, dog, and human characteristics. Bravo, Mr. Conley!

The Prince of the City

I got this audiobook from the library and listened to it off and on for about a week. It's an interesting description of Rudy Giuliani's tenure as mayor of New York from a conservative perspective. I have never heard of the author, Fred Siegel, but I know he's conservative based on his frequent expressions of conservatism throughout the book. Siegel gives Giuliani credit for the remarkable turnaround in New York over the 1990s, and he's probably right to give him some of that credit. Better policing helped turn the city around, and Giuliani helped to create that police policy. Giuliani isn't depicted as perfect in the biography -- the author faults Giuliani for the way he handled his personal struggles in his second term, as well as letting small-time feuds get in the way of governance. But he constantly asserts that Giuliani was responsible for the turnaround in the city. The book helps buttress the image of Giuliani as a "strong leader," one of the key aspects Americans look for in a President, according to many polls. It convinced me that the Giuliani years in New York weren't all roses, but that Giuliani got many things right about city government. He bucked the system and won on many fronts, and his calm in the crisis of September 11 made him a national hero. Whether that makes him a leader I can get behind is still up for debate for me.

Perfume

I read this thing through to the end, even though I was disgusted at one point by a certain act of cruelty to animals that made me say, "This book is sick," and throw it across the room. The opening chapter is funny and intriguing, but it's really downhill from there as the infant with no smell, who really may also be without a soul, grows up into a murderer and expert perfumer. He is gifted with an astounding sense of smell, which ultimately leads to his greatest triumph and his undoing. The novel is subtitled "The Story of a Murderer," so readers should not be surprised at the violence in the novel. Still, the artistic conceit of a person with a gifted nose but no human scent doesn't really justify the level of violence in the novel. Toward the end, this fictional conceit overwhelms all sense of decency and the novel really does reach the level of horror, in the old-fashioned sense of the term. Patrick Suskind has done his research on perfuming, and it shows throughout the novel, but the premise on which he has built his fictional world is askew, and I don't think it can hold the weight that Suskind puts on top of it.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

This novel takes place outside the friendly confines of Hogwarts, except for the climactic battle at the end. It places Harry and his friends in mortal peril from about Chapter 4 on, and there are so many close shaves that it really feels like reading an adventure story this time. JK Rowling keeps the plot moving for the most part, except for a part in the middle where the plot bogs down a bit as Harry, Ron and Hermione go underground by Apparating to various remote forest locations. This wandering, though, serves the plot by forcing the characters to confront life on the fringes of society without the support network of other witches and wizards. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are forced to grow up in these circumstances, and it's a great pleasure to see Harry develop into a leader, Hermione display her toughness, and Ron confront his darkest fears in the form of a Horcrux in this section. Harry confronts the choice whether to pursue the Horcruxes or the Deathly Hallows about two-thirds of the way into the novel, and his choice in this matter decides the outcome of the battle at the end. It also allows JK Rowling to display Harry's character in the best sense of the term and brings the magical world she has created to its fruition. Harry's decision seems both authentic and important, and only the best of writers can make this type of fictional moment happen. Cheers to JK Rowling for creating such an interesting fictional world and for bringing it to such a satisfying conclusion. I don't want to spoil the end for anyone, so I won't comment on it here. Let's just say it's a just end.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

This novel takes Harry Potter fans in some long-awaited directions -- Harry has lessons with Dumbledore that reveal more of Lord Voldemort's past, and Harry develops a real, vivid love interest in the form of Ginny Weasley. The unexpected ending throws a wrench in fans' desires to see Harry happy and whole, though. This novel throws open the relationship between Harry and Dumbledore, marking Dumbledore as an adventurer and Harry as more than just Dumbledore's favorite. Dumbledore mentors Harry in many ways in this novel, and it's good to see the relationship reach such a high point. In Dumbledore's final lesson with Harry, Dumbledore expresses what makes Harry different from Lord Voldemort eloquently and with care, allowing Harry to see the differences for himself. This exquisite fictional moment makes all the other stuff in the novel almost superfluous. The new teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Slughorn, is not as distinctive as other new teachers have been, perhaps because Snape fills the role of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry confronts Snape's duplicity directly in this novel, and JK Rowling's sharp pen positively quivers with Harry's anger at the end. This next-to-last chapter in the series leaves much unresolved, but it is a satisfying read nonetheless.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

The plot of this novel drives toward a powerful conclusion that knocks the stuffing out of readers who have come to care about the characters. Professor Dolores Umbridge is a near-perfect enemy for the students at Hogwarts to rebel against, and her intrusion into their lives makes for entertaining reading. The way she intrudes makes her like so many well-meaning adults who underestimate teenagers, and she is recognizable in some ways as the government nanny. This reader couldn't wait for Umbridge to get her comeuppance, and the many "withering looks" and other polite confrontations in her encounters with Professor McGonagall in particular are fun to read. There are many other comic elements in this novel, which buoy the reader just enough throughout the novel to make the tragedy at the end surprising and painful, just like a real tragedy often is. This isn't a great tragic novel, though, with pity and fear and all that Aristotelian tragic hero stuff -- it is a largely comic novel with a tragic twist at the end. The good parts still outweigh the bad, and Harry's heroism and his humanity come out in the end, as readers have come to expect. Dumbledore's final revelations at the end of the novel are very well-tuned to Harry's problems, and bring it to a satisfying conclusion, even though the events of the plot are not as readers would wish them to be. I read this one quickly and couldn't put it down, even though it is just as long as the fourth book. I didn't find this one overlong at all.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

This fourth book in the series starting draggin' for me (pun intended) in the middle of the book. I had a hard time motivating myself to read it, maybe because I had a Harry Potter overdose. Once I laid it down for a while then picked it back up, though, I managed to finish it off fairly quickly. I like the drama in this one, and the ending really is pretty chilling, with Cedric Diggory being called "the spare" and all that. The Yule Ball is a nice twist, with Harry facing mortification along with dragons. It's really a pretty good book, if a bit overlong, though I'm not sure what I would cut.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

This third book in JK Rowling's Harry Potter series deepens the relationship between the audience and the world that the author has created, filling in significant details about Harry's past while offering whole new ways for Harry and his friends to misbehave, get themselves in danger, and ultimately fend off death itself. The concept of a dementor and the link between Harry and his father as a Hogwarts student are particularly strong inventions. Dementors are part of the popular culture now -- I once had someone say something like, "I thought a dementor had taken over" in the waiting room of a hospital. She meant it as a joke, but it's a sign of how deeply embedded these inventions have become that she would attempt that kind of joke with a stranger. This may be the best book of the series -- not over-long, but with a complex plot and a satisfying ending. The mysteries are somehow less dark, in part because Harry is less alone than in the second book, and the Quidditch Cup is a more important part of Harry's adventures. Seemingly insignificant details get tied in to the main story at the end in a surprising twist or two, and the book really does represent Harry's coming-of-age in a unique way (and I don't use the word "unique" lightly.) I like the movie almost as much as the book this time, in spite of all the changes. It captures the coming-of-age story and takes viewers on a fun ride. The book is still more satisfying for a chance to celebrate Harry's triumphs in private.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

I have very little to add to the glowing reviews that JK Rowling's Harry Potter series has generated, but again, I found this book much more entertaining than the movie and worth the read. In this second novel, the world of Harry Potter again bridges the gap between fantasy and reality in breathtaking ways, yet it is still somehow grounded in its details -- Hogwarts feels like such a real place in the novels, with its recognizable personalities and slight exaggerations of people types. Rowling is almost Dickensian in her ability to skewer people's vanity or self-absorption, while still letting most of her characters get off lightly enough for comedy. The adventure is really pretty stirring, even if a reader knows the plot from watching the movies. There are enough telling details that are changed for the movies to keep one's interest alive. And again, the experience of the book is much different, with imagination working instead of just the eyeballs. I certainly wouldn't have figured out the mystery without having seen the movie, but I don't think her stories follow the rules of mysteries. They break genre, too. Plenty of adults will enjoy these books.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

I have finally gotten around to reading this book, JK Rowling's first Harry Potter novel, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, even after seeing the film about 100 times. The book is much, much better than the movie, and I enjoyed picking out the ways in which the novel differs from the movie and seeing how much of an improvement each change is. For example, having Neville go with Hermione and Harry into the Forbidden Forest instead of Ron makes for a much more interesting, dynamic scene than the one in the movie, with its focus on the three main "stars." I love the satire embedded in the portrayal of the Dursleys -- "normal" people whose main concern is appearing normal and accumulating things, rather than on treating people kindly. We so often lose sight of what's important when those concerns creep up on us. The magical world is better when imagined, rather than seen, so I hope I can get caught up on the book series before the next movie comes out. I will see the movies, because I'm curious about the whole process of turning a book into a movie, but my expectations are much higher for the final installment of the books, due out in July.

Moral Politics

I bought this book by UC Berkeley professor George Lakoff after a long study of the politics rack at Barnes & Noble. I was looking for something to help me solve a problem I'm having in reconciling my politics and my overall belief system. Every election cycle, I feel torn between conflicting beliefs -- on the one hand, I believe that government CAN and SHOULD be a force for good in society by addressing problems that affect Americans and people in general unequally -- including things like health care, poverty, and racial inequality. Not that the government always IS a force for good, but it at least has the potential to do the right thing by people in general, and that it should try to address some of the major problems in our society. I believe that makes me somewhat of a liberal. I also believe in the authority of the Bible and that it is a guide to everyday decision-making, that the Bible teaches that life begins at conception, and that abortion is a threat to the moral fabric of the country. This book helped to make clearer some of the reasons why I am so torn, but it didn't help resolve the tension I feel between the conflicting moral choices in politics. The book looks at political discourse as a set of conflicting metaphors and attempts for about two-thirds of the book to represent those metaphors in an unbiased way. However, toward the end, the author drops the pretense of being merely descriptive and promotes his own views, the views of a "committed liberal." His thesis is basically that the country is split into conservative and liberal camps based on metaphorical understandings of the government as either upholding "Strict Father" morality or "Nurturant Parent" morality. He attempts to explain how conservatives can believe in both pro-life and pro-death penalty positions, while liberals support both abortion and Head Start. He argues that the two sides arrive at their positions based on their understanding of the ideal family, which support either "Moral Strength" or "Nurturance" as their overriding value. I have to simplify his argument here, but it's really not all that complex of an argument, and it appears to be based primarily on a cognitive/linguistic approach looking at the way people talk about morality. Toward the end of the book, Professor Lakoff takes on Dr. James Dobson directly, arguing that his moderate advice on parenting is not accurate, and that his "Strict Parent" morality does not necessarily result in "better" children. But he seems to have wandered here into a classic blunder, using empirical results to make a metaphorical point. Regardless of whether Dr. Dobson's prescriptions for child-rearing work, they still make a potent metaphor for millions of people who want to believe that the government, Hollywood, or other forces in society are "anti-family." And the fact is, liberals ally themselves with people who work against the traditional family as a "nominal mode" in our society. I probably lack the theoretical backing in political philosophy to make the best argument against this book, but I think it really oversimplifies the conservative point of view, while creating a coherent set of metaphors for the liberal view to gravitate around. His caricatures of Christian faith in particular are pretty insulting to a thinking Christian who holds both liberal and conservative views. So, I'm still searching for that guide for Christian liberals who want a coherent ideology. I hope someday I find it. Maybe I'll have to write my own.

A break from books...

Check out this video if you've ever wondered what that song in Shrek is really about:

Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah covered by Over the Rhine

A beautiful song.

Surprised by Joy

Over the last few weeks, reading C.S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy has offered some helpful insights into one Christian thinker's development. The book is a philosophical life story of the writer's early years, and so it is at times funny and insightful and at others stiflingly erudite. The author traces his development from a child whose life was filled with imaginative play and a love of books, particularly stories of Norse gods, into a Christian whose life is marked by mature understanding of God's identity and holiness. The last two chapters are particularly strong in describing a philosophical conversion, not one based on emotion or outward trials. Lewis simply narrates a free choice, or as nearly a free choice as he allows himself to admit, to follow God after first recognizing that he exists. I am vastly oversimplifying the philosophical and emotional bases of Lewis' conversion (for despite his protestations to the contrary, he did find an emotional connection to God in the presence of Joy), but it is a joy itself to see someone so steadfastly describe the process of conversion as an outgrowth of philosophical and literary questions. I particularly enjoyed a few lines: "It matters more that Heaven should exist than that we should ever get there"; "Total surrender is the first step toward the fruition of [enjoying art and nature]. Shut your mouth; open your eyes and ears. Take in what is there and give no thought to what might have been there or what is somewhere else. That can come later, if it must come at all"; and a quote or paraphrase from Johnson, "Where courage is not, no other virtue can survive except by accident." It felt good to get connected to these lines of thought, derived from an Oxford don's knowledge of English writing and his own experience. Still, I got a little lost in the name-dropping and connecting with other people's writing. Overall, the book is a good read with plenty to chew on, and it may appeal even to non-Christians. The only fault is an assumption that readers know more than we tend to know in this contemporary timeframe.

The Good German

I read this page-turner a while back and enjoyed it quite a bit. I'm glad to see it's been turned into a movie, although I'm not sure I'll make it to the theater to see it. The setting is post-World War II Germany, Berlin specifically. I am somewhat familiar with that territory, having had the privilege to be in Berlin at the 50th anniversary of the end of the war. The book does not center around German struggles, despite the title, so not to worry for those Deutsch-o-phobes out there. It's basically a detective story with a few twists and turns set in the bombed-out center of a ruined totalitarian state. It had me guessing as far as the mystery goes, but I've never been good at figuring out mysteries. The novel does follow a fairly tried-and-true formula, but it's a well-crafted genre book with an interesting cast of characters. I found myself rooting for the good guys and against the bad guys, and I ask nothing more of a good detective story. There is a sex scene in the novel -- nothing Hollywood would find at all racy, but some more conservative readers might. This book is a follow-up to the more successful Los Alamos. Both novels are recommended. The author is Joseph Kanon.

Flags of our Fathers

My dad got me this book for Christmas, and I read it through in about a week. It is a well-told story of the six men who raised the flag on Iwo Jima in the famous photograph that became a national symbol and ultimately, the Marine Corps memorial statue in Washington, D.C.

The book is engrossing in its detail and authoritative in style. It aims to set the record straight about the facts of the flag-raising and to memorialize the author's father, who was one of the flagraisers. It succeeds in those two goals. The author's account of his father's life and his lifelong silence about the photograph and all other aspects of Iwo Jima is eloquent. Like many father-son relationships, it is clear that in this non-fiction account, what is not said is more important than what is.

I have not seen the movie that was recently filmed based on this book's account of Iwo Jima, nor the counterpoint Clint Eastwood production, Letters from Iwo Jima. I would have liked to have seen more first-hand accounts from the Japanese side included in this book. It is very one-sided in its description of the battle, and not necessarily so. Toward the end of the book, there are a few hints that the author's father may have begun to come to terms with the Japanese side of the horrible battle. I would have liked to have seen the same willingness to try to understand the Japanese soldiers, who are mostly seen as the perpetrators of atrocities in the book, on the son's part. But perhaps that is one of the legacies of war -- an unwillingness to see history through the other side's eyes, especially when father-son loyalties are put to the test.