New Century Reading

Logicomix

Of all the books I would not have expected to see myself reading, this one would be pretty high on the list.

Logicomix. It had two big strikes against it: I'm not always excited about graphic novels, and it was about mathematics.

I'm pausing now, trying to see if there's anything I could possibly care less about than mathematics.

Huh...nope, that's pretty close to bottom of the barrel.

So why did I read this? Turns out it also had two things in its favor: it made the shortlist for the Tournament of Books (which starts Monday!), and my friend Girl Detective, who likes graphic novels more than I do, had a copy and offered to lend it to me.  

I should also add that in spite of my general distrust of graphic novels, I'm rapidly becoming aware that I should give them more of a chance. Teen 1 had the option of reading Persepolis (both parts) last year for world history, so I read it too, and mostly liked it, although at points I thought it was a bit pedantic. Another good friend pushed a copy of Alison Bechdel's Fun Home into my hands, and I ended up thinking it was brilliant and moving. 

But--a graphic novel about mathematics?

Well, you know what? It was pretty good. Some of the logic/philosophy talk went zooming right over my head without mussing a single pretty hair, but the story was much more entertaining and engrossing than I expected it to be. I knew very little about Bertrand Russell before I started reading, so everything was a revelation to me, including his family background (sad) and treatment of his first wife (also sad), as well as his obsession (to put it mildly) with the importance of logic. I may not understand everything he worked for, but I understand the passion behind it, and the price he sometimes paid to continue his work.

In its first round at the ToB, it's up against the daunting Wolf Hall, which I expect to flatten poor Logicomix. I haven't read Wolf Hall yet--its length has caused me to seek out the shorter competitors, as I have a better chance of reading more of those quickly than what I think will be a slower read with Wolf Hall.

Whether or not Logicomix survives its first match, I'm still glad I had the opportunity (and the motivation) to read it.

Even for a non-mathematician.

Let the Great World Spin

Long ago I came to the conclusion that there are far more books I want to read than I'll be able to conquer in my lifetime, and so it was necessary to be heartless when it came to books that didn't "grab" me. I don't have a strict page number policy, except I try to give a book at least 50 pages (more if it's a chunkster) before giving up. I realize in doing so that I might be missing out on something wonderful, but so be it--there are plenty of wonderful books waiting their turn.

So when I got into the second story of Colum McCann's Let the Great World Spin and found my mind wandering, I said, buh-bye, back to the library with you, and I moved on. I read many other books that were engrossing, but I started to notice that the McCann book was getting great praise all over the praise; then it won the National Book Award. Not that I think winning a book award means I'll love it--far from it. But it did give me pause.

Then the Tournament of Books added the book to its shortlist, and shortly afterward I walked into my local bookstore, and there it was, in paperback. On a whim, I snapped it up and brought it home.

Well.

Not that I plan to rethink my overall strategy in terms of plowing through books I'm not enjoying, but I'm so, so glad I gave this one a second chance. Even the story that bothered me the first time was fascinating this time. Is it because I caved to popular opinion, or was I just not in the right mood the first time I tried? I'm going with the latter.

In any event, Let the Great World Spin, if you haven't heard about it, is set in New York City mostly during the summer of 1974, when Philippe Petit astonished the world by crossing the space between the World Trade Towers on a tightrope. That's the framework for this novel in stories, but the heart of the book is in other characters: Corrigan, a young Irish priest obsessed with the lowest levels of New York's population; Claire, a mother grieving the loss of her son in Vietnam; Tillie and Jazzlyn, a mother-daughter pair of hookers; and Lara and Blaine, artists trying to find their way in a world beginning to change from the wildness of the 60's.

To tell how these characters' cross paths with each other and how their lives become woven together would require a great number of spoilers, so suffice it to say that they do become intertwined, rich and poor, black and white and Hispanic, male and female. McCann does a marvelous balancing job of his own (pun intended) in moving between characters and stories, with distinct voices and personalities for each.

It certainly doesn't hurt that he's a fantastic writer:

"A row of smokers stood out in front of Metropolitan Hospital on Ninety-eighth and First Avenue. Each looked like his last cigarette, ashen and ready to fall. Through the swinging doors, the receiving room was full to capacity. Another cloud of smoke inside. Patches of blood on the floor. Junkies strung out along the benches. It was the type of hospital that looked like it needed a hospital."

I loved these characters, even the ones I wouldn't want to meet in real life. I was sad for the book to end; I wanted to know more about these people, more about their lives, but really, McCann told me what I needed to know for the point of the book itself.

So, Tournament of Books and Random House, thanks for the serendipity of the shortlist announcement and the paperback release occurring close enough together to trigger me to give this book another try. I'm so glad I did--it might even make it onto that very, very short list of books I plan to re-read someday.

The Anthologist

"I woke up thinking a very pleasant thought. There is lots left in the world to read."

So says the endearing narrator of Nicholson Baker's The Anthologist, Paul Chowder, an occasionally published poet who's suffering from a bad case of writer's block when trying to write, of all things, the introduction to an anthology of rhyming poems. Of course there's plenty to distract him: he's in debt; his girlfriend has left him; and the task of justifying rhyming poetry feels a bit overwhelming.

And part of Chowder's problem is his fierce passion about poetry itself:

"One thing I really like about books of poems is that you can open them anywhere and you're at a beginning. If I open a biography, or a memoir, or a novel, when I open it in the middle, which is what I usually do, I'm really in the middle. What I want is to be as much as possible at the beginning. And that's what poetry gives me. Many many beginnings. That feeling of setting forth."

This is a wild, fun ride, an exploration of poetry from someone who's passionate but not in the least pedantic, someone who's frustrated with his personal life and perceived failures in terms of literary success, someone who's got a wonderfully wry sense of humor about the path his life has taken.

If you don't know much about poetry and poets, you'll learn a lot, and in a very conversational, non-academic way. This book is as much about the history of poetry as it is about Chowder's writing block, and you'll have far more fun than reading most any handbook or history. Not much actually happens in the book, but that's not the point--the point is for Chowder to work his way through his personal demons and ground himself in the most important thing in the world: his love of poetry. He's hilariously aware of pop culture, comparing anthologists to Heidi Klum, "that blond bitch-goddess on Project Runway."

By book's end, I felt much more knowledgeable about poetry without having been condescended to, and I felt like I'd had a wonderful time hanging out with a sometimes-exasperating but always entertaining friend. What more can you ask of a reading experience than that?

This book is also a finalist in the upcoming Tournament of Books, where it's first bracketed against the critically acclaimed Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned. Two very different books--how to call that contest?? But that's a big part of the fun of the ToB. I'd take The Anthologist over Everything Ravaged, but I suspect the outcome will go the other way, since the competitor is taking on "bigger" topics. But really, is there anything bigger than poetry?

It's Tuesday, where are you?

Hosted by Raidergirl

I'm in a barn in an unnamed community, trying to deliver an overdue introduction to an anthology of rhyming poems while sorting through my messy personal life (girlfriend left me, deep in debt). No matter what, though, I'm very passionate about poetry, and sometimes I'm even funny. (Yes, I'm enjoying this book!)

Teaser Tuesdays is hosted by Miz B. The rules:

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!   

I'm going to give more than two sentences, but no spoilers:

"What did she really mean by 'It doesn't have to rhyme?' Did she mean it could rhyme but it didn't have to? No. She meant Don't rhyme. She meant: I am going to manacle your poor pliable brains with freedom. I'm going to insist that you must be free. She wrote 'FREE VERSE' on the board."

The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker. A great, fun read so far (not quite done). It's also on the shortlist for the 2010 Tournament of Books.