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Books read in 2014

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<dl dt_class="field"> The Name of the Rose (1983/en) <div>by <i>Umberto Eco</i> This book is about a series of murders in an abbey in 12th-century Italy. A battle rages between opposed forces within the church, with some siding with the Pope and others not. The schism approaches, inquisitional troops roam the land. A very well-educated and modern monk, William of Baskerville, arrives at the abbey with his novice Melk in tow, to whom he is imparting not only wisdom but the kind of inquisitive mind that will be capable of acquiring such on its own at some point. The story is told from Melk's point of view as an autobiography ostensibly written many decades later. They arrive in time for the first in a series of murders and investigate it, as far as they are allowed. Intrigues abound, books---the lifeblood of the abbey---are pored over, characters are introduced. There is the brutish but sly Salvatore, the crooked Remigio and many others who contribute information as well as layers of intrigue. The abbey's magnificent and labyrinthine library is the centerpiece, with its star-shaped architecture, many rooms, hidden hallways and cryptic signs. As with Foucault's Pendulum, Eco proves himself the master of a genre with which most are only familiar through the pale shadow that is Dan Brown. Eco’s research is legendary, if you can get past the pomposity, which is generally quite easy. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3046">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Reamde (2011) <div>by <i>Neal Stephenson</i> The sweeping, all-encompassing nature of the plot reminded me strongly of the Baroque Cycle (also by Stephenson). His attention to detail in some cases was at times tedious, but his dialogue and character development are top-notch. There are plenty of cool heroes here, with only a handful of them belonging to the 1%, unlike so much other escapist fiction these days. The Cryptonomicon took us to Southeast Asia with hackers and programmers and dealt with ultra-secret code-crackers, chip-manufacturing plants and groups of people connected by tenuous though significant strands over decades. This book also takes us to Southeast Asia and to many other places besides, with a good part of it taking place in the Pacific Northwest, on both sides of the U.S./Canadian border. In the detailed notes, I try to summarize what I remember having happened in this book because it was quite literally one of the wildest rides I’ve read, with what would have been ludicrous coincidences from many other authors. Detailed in Stephenson’s style, however, the story arc remained cohesive throughout over 1000 pages. Spoilers abound in the summary below, so proceed with caution. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=2949">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls (2013) <div>by <i>David Sedaris</i> This is another collection of essays about Sedaris's life in France and now England and his quirky/crazy family, all told in his inimitable style. He covers topics from child-rearing tips (he has no children of his own) to his former lifestyle as a young, avant-garde artist to his one-man attack on the litter of England, where he'd moved after living in Normandy<fn>, to commentary on modern life, particularly the egocentricity of it all, not without noting the irony of an author who can't seem to write about anything but himself. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3048">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (1964) <div>by <i>Joanne Greenberg</i> This is the story of one woman's struggle with mental illness/schizophrenia in a mental institution in the U.S. in the late 50s/early 60s. It is semi-autobiographical and contains what felt like authentic and insightful descriptions of what mental illness feels like. Well-written and evocative examples abound in the citations included below. There are several instances where she writes that her senses just shut down. She sees in only two dimensions; she can barely hear anything; she sees only shades of gray and often through a pinhole, a keyhole, a slit. She cannot feel anything. She burns her flesh and doesn’t feel the pain. She eats but does not taste and does not remember having eaten. She tells of watching other patients in this catatonia, being struck by other wild patients and not reacting at all. They only blink slowly. This is a communication failure between one without senses and one with a private language. It’s utterly fascinating when thought of in these terms. It’s also a metaphor for how the so-called normal people interact with one another, making the same mistakes but less overtly and less catastrophically poorly. On a class, caste or national level, the catastrophic miscommunication is the same. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=2893">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> The Brothers Karamazov (1880) <div>by <i>Fyodor Dostoyevsky</i> Like Tolstoy’s novels, this was published in series in a magazine of the time called <i>The Messenger</i>. There isn’t much of an encompassing story arc---at least not when compared to more modern authors, like Stephenson (above) or Martin (below)---so it’s hard to call it a novel as such. It felt more like a collection of short stories and novellas that included the same cast of characters. The first part is a long introduction to the debauched family of the Karamazovs and the other locals whom they’ve drawn into their tawdry orbit. At the center of the first act is the patriarch Fyodor, who argumentatively fences with his three sons, Ivan, Dmitri (Mitya) and Alexander (Alyosha). There is a fourth (possible) son in the person of Smerdyakov. A subsequent longer section is a sermon by Ivan, as told to Alyosha. This was the most interesting part of the book. It is also the most famous part, for which many seem to excuse the other 95% of relatively mediocre material. With modern literature—that is, written during my time or near to it, say mid-20th century and onward—I can usually determine the intended tone of the writing. Is the author espousing his own views through a character? Or is the author espousing views he does not support through that character? If a character is ludicrous and pompous and just out-and-out wrong-headed, I can laugh along, knowing that the author intended to parody opposing worldviews. However, with Dostoyevsky (and, to a lesser degree, with Tolstoy), while I know what I think of the characters and their views, I am often unsure of what the author intended. I feel like the guy who laughs out loud at a sad movie because he doesn’t realize that the director was being dead-serious. This doesn’t interfere with my enjoyment of the writing—such as it is—but it certainly makes it more difficult to slog through long conversations between what I consider to be fools discussing utter foolishness when I don’t know whether the author is in on the joke. In net effect, I feel that I can read more of the exact same writing when I know it’s a parody than when I feel that the author intended to convey what he or she considers to be deep truths. It may reflect poorly on me, I suppose. Perhaps something is lost in translation or there is too great a distance between the culture that created the literature. I feel that my enjoyment of this type of great literature is too superficial. I see sparks where I feel that I am in on the joke, where I appreciate a bit of cleverness or phrase, but I am saddled with doubt that I am enjoying the right thing. On the other hand, I don’t want to be told by experts how I’m supposed to enjoy the book. I would like to be able to enjoy the ins and outs without help but, short of becoming a fluent reader of Russian and possibly more of an expert on a culture and mindset that lies over a century in the past, this will not be possible. That is, I can enjoy other good works on a much deeper level that I can these great works of art. That’s OK, though. I just wish that people would hedge their recommendation that “everyone should read these” to acknowledge that the level of enjoyment, satisfaction and understanding will vary greatly. While this is always the case, it is all the more likely when the original language and culture of the author of the work stands in such stark contrast to that of the reader. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=2984">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> The Idiot (1869) <div>by <i>Fyodor Dostoyevsky</i> The idiot is the tale of a Russian expatriate named Prince Lef Muishin who returns to Russia from having lived in Switzerland. He was sent to Switzerland in order to cure his chronic epilepsy, which rendered him stupefied and nearly speechless---for all intents and purposes an idiot. He returns penniless but quickly ingratiates himself to a noble family, which agrees to take him in, if only for a while. The cast of characters surrounding him is wild and foolish and, as in so many other Russian novels, utterly and completely useless. There is almost no indication of where money comes from—it might just as well grow on trees. The others consider the prince an idiot, but he evinces deeper philosophical thinking than the rest of them put together and is much more eloquent, to boot. I assumed that to be part of the irony intended by the author (see mydiscussion of such assumptions above, in my notes on <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i>). The plot is very bare, but consists of sketches, almost like theater pieces, that feels much more like <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i> than his earlier work <i>Crime and Punishment</i>. Dostoyevsky doesn't waste many words on descriptions of places or people (at least in this novel; see my notes on <i>Crime and Punishment</i> below for a different story). Places have names, women are beautiful and men are distinguished. Occasionally someone is said to have a mustache but this level of descriptiveness seems to exhaust the author and it generally ends there. As in <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i>, the characters ricochet from joy to abject misery within seconds, constantly shouting and rejoicing as if they are capable of feeling only exaggerated emotions. People fall in love in minutes. It’s kind of crazy, really, and sometimes hard to understand how something that reads so much like a Mexican telenovella script can be called some of the world’s best literature. There is almost no metaphor or simile in <i>The Idiot</i> (in contrast to <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i>, which had a bit more philosophizing, particularly by Ivan). I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=2991">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Crime and Punishment (1866) <div>by <i>Fyodor Dostoyevsky</i> Crime and Punishment is different from Dostoyevsky's later novels---significantly so. Here the descriptions of the environment, the characters and the situations are visceral and wonderfully done. The misery is heartrending but at least it doesn’t feel plastic and fake. There are descriptions on a par with the masters of the form, Tolstoy or Twain, whose depictions of nature were absolutely lovely and evoked comparably visceral emotion. His descriptions of despair and suffering and entrapment-by-life are unparalleled. The situations he posits seem unreal though they were likely all too real for all too many. The past tense is inappropriate here, for even in the modern day, in the most modern of countries, the cruelty of Dostoyevsky’s reality is played out day after sorrowful, miserable day with no hope or end in sight, other than through the sweet, sweet release of death. The scene with the horse pulling the overloaded carriage (see notes below for citations) is noteworthy because of the depths of human depravity it shows, the utter disregard for another creature’s suffering. A similar <a href="{app}view_article.php?id=3011#poor-old-whale">scene with an old, old whale</a> in <i>Moby Dick</i> would remind me of this one. The scene is presumably a metaphor for the way in which the less fortunate are misused and mistreated and depleted by those above them, even if only a very little bit above them. Even if they themselves aren’t all so fortunate, all the more reason to dump on those less capable of defending themselves, all the more reason to make others suffer as they themselves are made to suffer by those above them. Or maybe it’s a cautionary tale of drunkenness; it's hard to tell. The false palliatives of religion are next on the chopping block, with its purveyors offering advice that is completely at odds with the common logic of life. Especially and exactly for those who suffer the most, that have the least to thank a supposedly benevolent but also mysterious and uncaring God. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3076">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Age of Ultron (2013) This is the comic-book series on which the upcoming Avengers movie is based. It was a bit woodenly written, but what the hell, I'd just finished three Dostoyevsky novels: what did I expect? The artwork wasn't really my style and the story was about time-travel, in an effort to stop Ultron. See the Wikipedia article for a full summary. It passed the time. Superior Spider-Man (2013) This is the series of Spider-Man comics that followed Doctor Octavius's physical death, during which he imposed his psyche and memories---his entire mind---into the brain of Peter Parker. This pushes Peter's mind to the background and Octavius takes over as Spider-Man. People notice as he finally starts to take charge in a way that Peter never did. Despite Peter's quite advanced intellect, he never quite had the willpower of Doc Ock, and never achieved nearly as much as when Ock is in the driver's seat. Doc employs his penchant for technological devices to enhance Spider-Man's reach and power and becomes a tyrant over New York---although it's admitted that he's doing quite a good job of crime-fighting. All in all, a decent comic series. The Team-Up editions include some lovely, lovely work by Joe Madureira. Moby-Dick; or, The Whale (1851) <div>by <i>Herman Melville</i> The impression I got of this work when I tried reading it as a teenager caused me to avoid reading it as an adult, until now. This is a pity because it is, for the most part, a wonderfully written and action-packed tale that puts you remarkably into the heart of a dangerous profession like whaling with a vividness I didn’t think possible. Not only that, but there are nuggets of wonderfully written wisdom strewn liberally throughout. The descriptions of the action are as visceral as Tolstoy’s. <bq>Few are the foreheads which like Shakespeare’s or Melancthon’s rise so high, and descend so low, that the eyes themselves seem clear, eternal, tideless mountain lakes; and all above them in the forehead’s wrinkles, you seem to track the antlered thoughts descending there to drink, as the Highland hunters track the snow prints of the deer.</bq> Highly recommended. Loved it. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3011">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Dracula (1897) <div>by <i>Bram Stoker</i> This book charges out of the gate and is quite enthralling—no pun intended—in a very modern way. Unfortunately, after the whole merry band of characters is introduced and expertly knit together, the book bogs down in professions of fealty and undying love and respect and myriad other forms of swearing undying and lifelong allegiance to one another. There is also the not easily overlooked heavily misogynistic aspect of the novel. The ladies Lucy and Mina are introduced as very clever and very capable...for ladies, that is. These females make the most of their paucity of gray matter with which the good Lord blessed them and all others of their ilk, those ill-fated bearers of only one, solitary type of chromosome. Stoker makes sure to let the inadequacy of the female thinking capacity be extensively explained by the women themselves, which seems to be the only thing at which the feeble intellect of a woman is capable of excelling. They are not the only ones who suffer thusly. Dracula is also not considered very clever and possessed of only a child brain. The group of gentlemen was perhaps revolutionary at the time, but is now somewhat trite: a doctor in charge of an insane asylum (Dr. Seward); a Renaissance man, well-learned in all manner of arcane minutiae who also happens to be well-acquainted with the dark corners of the occult, Dr. Van Helsing; a brave, competent and not unwealthy Texan in the form of Quincey Morris; a Lord Gondalming (Arthur Holmwood) who throws money and influence about; and, finally, Jonathan Harker, a lawyer who just happened to have come into a magnificent inheritance. The two ladies are, of course, more beautiful than anything this side of the angels. Not much tension there. It's kind of like reading Stieg Larsson. Read the first half, it's quite good. The second half drags tremendously. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3021">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Raising Steam (2014) <div>by <i>Terry Pratchett</i> The latest---and likely last<fn>---of the DiscWorld books feels a bit like a last hurrah. Pratchett's style is at times reminiscent of his old self, but is for at least half of the book much more stilted and preachier than was his wont. Still, the flight smooths out after a bit and it's entertaining enough. There is no tension, as such, since you know that no-one important is going to die. All of the characters fulfill the roles that you expect them to. There are goblins and golems and gargoyles and gnomes as well as dwarves, vampires, igors, trolls and zombies. Humans are there too, of course. I also read <i>Snuff</i> at around the same time and preferred that by a wide margin. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3086">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post.</div> Don Quixote (1605) <div>by <i>Miguel de Cervantes</i> I read the first half of this wonderful classic in 2014; the second half followed in 2015. This is a consistently wonderfully written---and translated---classic that deserves to be one. Does it sometimes get repetitive? Is it, at times, a pastiche of whatever Cervantes happened to be writing about? Does it feel amazingly modern, considering it was written in the late 16th and early 17 centuries? Yes to all. I don't know to whom I could recommend reading a gigantic classic text of this kind, but if you at all think it might be for you, you shouldn't be disappointed. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3035">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Spider-Man: Ends of the Earth (2012) <div>This story pits Spider-Man against Doctor Octopus. Octopus is dying but he has gathered the Sinister Six and equipped them with a lot of technology that makes them much more dangerous. Spider-Man is not really Spider-Man anymore, not like the Spider-Man of the 20th century. He has a high-tech job, all the money he needs, he's an Avenger, he no longer has a worry in the world. He's changed. He wears high-tech armor, he flies around with rocket boots, he's more like Iron Man than Spider-Man. In the first six books, he shot his webs once. The dialogue is flat, stilted and pathetic. Most of it reads like jingoistic propaganda---Sabra fights for Israel! Kangaroo fights for Australia! Union Jack for the U.K.! This is much worse than I remember. It's about on par with the writing in the <i>Civil War</i> series: no nuance and just Libertarian or black/white/good/bad claptrap. For example: Sabra says at one point, <iq>I'm not sure accepting this job counts as "smart." But if it will save Israelis, I accept it.</iq> When she is shot in the head by something names "Crossbones", he is described as a <iq>Brutal Assassin [who] enjoys sandwiches.</iq> Then there's Union Jack, who says that <iq>[p]art of the reason I ride this old Triumph motorbike [is that it's] British workmanship from way back when we <i>had</i> workmanship.</iq> This is just before he's attacked by someone called "Slaymaster MK II". What the hell is that? That's a stupid hero name, a name for the Unreal games, a name for the Pokemon generation. And the cast of shitty characters just keeps on coming: GoGo Tomago, Everwraith, it's just awful. This is just lazy writing. It's not funny or piquant, as Spider-Man used to be. Mysterio and Chameleon are the only ones with anything approaching humorous banter. Not recommended. </div> The Long Earth (2013) <div>by <i>Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter</i> This is the story of a near-future Earth where alternate universes are just a “step” away. Each is a complete Earth, most of which are almost entirely unpopulated. Some people can step with a gadget, others without one and others can't step at all, remaining "trapped" on the mainline Earth. The story introduces this situation, provides some examples and then sends Joshua---a natural stepper---on an adventure far up the long line of Earths, accompanied by an AI named Lobsang. As usual, Baxter's parts are technologically solid, but immediately recognizable for his wooden characterizations. Similarly, Pratchett's style shines through in a few lovely, though shorter, chapters. It was good fun; recommended. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3087">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Snuff (2012) <div>by <i>Terry Pratchett</i> The vampires, the dwarves and the trolls of Discworld all had their liberation stories. This is the story of how the goblins of Discworld came to be accepted into society. The goblins show their penchant for creation and technology and are taken up in the clacks network. Vimes is on vacation at his wife's ancestral home, of which he is technically the Lord. He of course has nothing in common with the self-styled aristocrats who are horrible, horrible racists and scheming bastards, trading in goblin slaves. This would all be worked out in the end in a rollicking Discworld story worthy of standing with Pratchett's best. Recommended. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3088">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Game of Thrones (1996) <div>by <i>George R.R. Martin</i> This is book one of the <i>Song of Ice and Fire</i>. Oh my goodness, where to begin? I'm not sure that there's any point in summarizing a plot or in listing characters. This is a very tightly and well-written novel with a lot of lovely description, interesting characters, dozens of locations and storylines, all expertly interweaved and laid out by Mr. Martin. This first novel sets things up quite nicely, staying well-paced and interesting while introducing many of the characters that will accompany us through the next 5000 pages (so far---two more books to go). The span and breadth of his vision are breathtaking---as is the execution. Martin’s writing style is perfectly suited to this genre. Though I’d heard that some of his prose was a bit long-winded, focused too much on loving and languorous descriptions of food, I found it to be quite tightly written and easy reading. In fairness, I read this book after having read a lot of nineteenth-century literature, so perhaps I was better prepared than most. Summary: Ned Stark is in King's Landing, but not for long. Robb Stark starts to raise the North. Jon is on the Wall, Daenarys gives birth a few times. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3036">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> Clash of Kings (1999) <div>by <i>George R.R. Martin</i> This is book two of the <i>Song of Ice and Fire</i>. It continues the story begun in <i>Game of Thrones</i>. It takes us up to the Battle of Blackwater Bay, Jon's foray into the North as a ranger and Daenarys's departure from Qarth. </div> Watchmen (1986--1987) <div>by <i>Alan Moore</i> These comic books are about the history of a troupe of self-nominated heroes from the 1930s up until the present-day of the late 1980s, when the world is threatened by nuclear conflict. In that, author Alan Moore crafted a world that only slightly diverged from reality. That is, it was close enough to be familiar and not require any explanation, but divergent enough to be fascinating. Part-time narrator and uncompromising literalist Rorschach stole the show, unable to understand how the solution to the world’s greatest problem could be rooted in an even bigger lie. Recommended. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3082">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> A Storm of Swords (2000) <div>by <i>George R.R. Martin</i> This is book three of the <i>Song of Ice and Fire</i>. This one takes us up to the Red Wedding, follows Arya and her adventures with Beric Dondarrion as well as The Hound, finds Tyrion naming the Red Viper as his champion against The Mountain, and sees us through to his bloody escape. Jon rises in the ranks at the Wall (quite far) and Daenerys conquers in the East, stopping in Meereen to rule for a time. I've included <a href="{app}/view_article.php?id=3084">notes, citations and errata</a> in a separate post. </div> </dl> <hr> <ft>Sedaris would eventually have part of the highway named after him for efforts spanning several years.</ft> <ft>Yep. It was his last. RIP Sir Terry.</ft>