Should have re-read Volumes 1 and 2 before diving into Volume 3. Too much time had passed since I read "Wicked" and "Son of a Witch." Found myself struggling through references I could not connect up. And the book was pretty murky to begin with.
I loved, loved, loved "Wicked." I'm a pretty big fan of Gregory Maguire's work. I enjoyed "Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister" and "Mirror, Mirror" and "Lost." I love the notion of re-imagining classic tales -- my first encounter with this idea (and still the best; sorry Mr. Maguire) was in Sherri S. Tepper's "Beauty."
All of these books take familiar stories in pretty grim and gritty directions. If you haven't ever delved into this world, don't expect happily ever after. Characters are not necessarily likable, and settings are not fairy-tale castles. But they make for some mighty good reading --- food for thought.
"A Lion Among Men" is the only one of the Wicked trilogy I do not personally own. I have a shelf full of Gregory Maguire, and I think it's time for a little review. As soon as I zip through the next couple of books I have lined up.......
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Book 10: "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey
My next entry in The Big Book Read 2010 is James Frey's controversial memoir, "A Million Little Pieces." A friend and colleague lent it, and I carried it around in my car for a while until the day I had multiple medical appointments, and snatched it up to avoid having to choose between Sports Illustrated and Parenting magazines in the waiting rooms.
The book was published in 2003, and is Frey's 400+ page recounting of the period in his life when, at age 23, in 1992, his addictions were close to killing him, and how he was pushed into rehab where he met a cast of colorful characters and managed to get his act together. He writes in a stream of consciousness style, lots of dialogue but no quotation marks, repetition of key words and phrases, and plenty of strong emotions and language.
The controversy surrounding the book, which I had heard about at the time it was published but had basically forgotten, was that it was not a true memoir; Frey played fast and loose with the truth, and this eventually came to light. He addresses this issue in an introductory "Note to the Reader" at the beginning of this paperback edition which came out a couple of years later. He says that he believes that memoir "is about impression and feeling, about individual recollection" rather than a work that adheres to "a strict journalistic or historical standard," and that this book is a "combination of facts about my life and certain embellishments," a "subjective truth." He owns up to, and apologizes for, a certain number of "embellishments" for purposes of dramatic tension, of respecting others' privacy/anonymity, "to serve what I felt was the greater purpose of the book."
Whatever.
Having read this confession, as well as the Publisher's apology that follows Frey's, I simply read the book. I tried to read it without making any distinction between fiction and non- and, despite mentally remarking a few times, "Oh, reeaaallly," it made no difference in the end to me whether it was all based on reality. It was a moderately interesting book that delivered what it purported to be about: a young guy navigating the rocky road of rehabilitation.
His rather raw writing style meshes well with the content. The setting and the people are not pretty. He does emphasize the egalitarian nature of addiction in his portrayels of a population at the rehab facility that includes folks from every walk of life, high and low. They are all brought low by their obsessions and compulsions. Frey refers to some of them as "good men who happen to be bad men."
The figures that he cites are alarming -- less than 15 per cent of addicts will get sober and stay sober. Many, many of them will die far too young of their addictions, and their deaths will be violent and dirty and scarey. James Frey was almost one of them. The story he writes is bleak, graphic, and full of anger and fear. There is also hope.
This is not a book I would necessarily recommend to someone struggling with their own addictions and seeking a way out of the woods. Frey strenuously rejects the standard treatment and recovery options, carving his own way out -- one important discovery for him is the truth he finds in a little book his brother gives him, the "Tao te Ching" -- but he apparently does succeed. He was still sober in 2006, thirteen years after publication of his "memoir," regardless of the ultimate veracity of it.
The book was published in 2003, and is Frey's 400+ page recounting of the period in his life when, at age 23, in 1992, his addictions were close to killing him, and how he was pushed into rehab where he met a cast of colorful characters and managed to get his act together. He writes in a stream of consciousness style, lots of dialogue but no quotation marks, repetition of key words and phrases, and plenty of strong emotions and language.
The controversy surrounding the book, which I had heard about at the time it was published but had basically forgotten, was that it was not a true memoir; Frey played fast and loose with the truth, and this eventually came to light. He addresses this issue in an introductory "Note to the Reader" at the beginning of this paperback edition which came out a couple of years later. He says that he believes that memoir "is about impression and feeling, about individual recollection" rather than a work that adheres to "a strict journalistic or historical standard," and that this book is a "combination of facts about my life and certain embellishments," a "subjective truth." He owns up to, and apologizes for, a certain number of "embellishments" for purposes of dramatic tension, of respecting others' privacy/anonymity, "to serve what I felt was the greater purpose of the book."
Whatever.
Having read this confession, as well as the Publisher's apology that follows Frey's, I simply read the book. I tried to read it without making any distinction between fiction and non- and, despite mentally remarking a few times, "Oh, reeaaallly," it made no difference in the end to me whether it was all based on reality. It was a moderately interesting book that delivered what it purported to be about: a young guy navigating the rocky road of rehabilitation.
His rather raw writing style meshes well with the content. The setting and the people are not pretty. He does emphasize the egalitarian nature of addiction in his portrayels of a population at the rehab facility that includes folks from every walk of life, high and low. They are all brought low by their obsessions and compulsions. Frey refers to some of them as "good men who happen to be bad men."
The figures that he cites are alarming -- less than 15 per cent of addicts will get sober and stay sober. Many, many of them will die far too young of their addictions, and their deaths will be violent and dirty and scarey. James Frey was almost one of them. The story he writes is bleak, graphic, and full of anger and fear. There is also hope.
This is not a book I would necessarily recommend to someone struggling with their own addictions and seeking a way out of the woods. Frey strenuously rejects the standard treatment and recovery options, carving his own way out -- one important discovery for him is the truth he finds in a little book his brother gives him, the "Tao te Ching" -- but he apparently does succeed. He was still sober in 2006, thirteen years after publication of his "memoir," regardless of the ultimate veracity of it.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Books 8 and 9: "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and "The Girl Who Played with Fire" by Steig Larsson
It's odd how I seem to inadvertantly read books one right after another that have major aspects in common.... The commonality this time lies with the authors. Having just read the dense and complex "Confederacy of Dunces," I was looking for a different, perhaps lighter, reading experience. I had seen a review of Steig Larsson's books, so opted to pick up his first of this trilogy, "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo." Larsson, a Swedish journalist and crusader against racism and right-wing extremism, was another who died prematurely young (although not by his own hand, like Toole), and whose work was published posthumously. All three books have been translated from the original Swedish, and have been best-sellers.
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" was a wonderful read: a suspenseful and gripping mystery/detective story with a cast of extraordinary characters. The "Girl" is 23-year-old Lisbeth Salander, although the story herein is not exactly her story. Mikael Blomkvist is a disgraced journalist who is approached by octogenarian Henrik Vanger to look into the disappearance and presumed murder of his great-niece Harriet, who vanished some 40 years ago at the age of 16. In the course of his investigation, he encounters and then collaborates with investigator Lisbeth Salander, a young woman with remarkable computer skills and extremely poor social skills. As the story progresses, we are given glimpses into Lisbeth's life, past and present, explaining to some degree who and what she is, but never garnering the full picture.
Blomkvist and Salanger are not only successful in unraveling the mystery of Harriet Vanger, navigating through the unpleasantness of the extended Vanger family, but in solving a few other puzzles as well.
The second book, "The Girl Who Played with Fire," continues to intriguingly unfold the character of Lisbeth Salander, and involves her in an investigation, along with Blomkvist again, into human trafficking and the sex trade. Lisbeth finds herself accused of a triple murder, and vanishes to avoid being arrested and charged. Blomkvist fights to clear her, and in doing so, uncovers the truth of Lisbeth's horrifying past.
I found these two books absolutely riveting, devouring the first one over the course of one drizmal Sunday. I am really looking forward to the third, "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest."
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" was a wonderful read: a suspenseful and gripping mystery/detective story with a cast of extraordinary characters. The "Girl" is 23-year-old Lisbeth Salander, although the story herein is not exactly her story. Mikael Blomkvist is a disgraced journalist who is approached by octogenarian Henrik Vanger to look into the disappearance and presumed murder of his great-niece Harriet, who vanished some 40 years ago at the age of 16. In the course of his investigation, he encounters and then collaborates with investigator Lisbeth Salander, a young woman with remarkable computer skills and extremely poor social skills. As the story progresses, we are given glimpses into Lisbeth's life, past and present, explaining to some degree who and what she is, but never garnering the full picture.
Blomkvist and Salanger are not only successful in unraveling the mystery of Harriet Vanger, navigating through the unpleasantness of the extended Vanger family, but in solving a few other puzzles as well.
The second book, "The Girl Who Played with Fire," continues to intriguingly unfold the character of Lisbeth Salander, and involves her in an investigation, along with Blomkvist again, into human trafficking and the sex trade. Lisbeth finds herself accused of a triple murder, and vanishes to avoid being arrested and charged. Blomkvist fights to clear her, and in doing so, uncovers the truth of Lisbeth's horrifying past.
I found these two books absolutely riveting, devouring the first one over the course of one drizmal Sunday. I am really looking forward to the third, "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest."
Book 7: "A Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole
John Kennedy Toole commited suicide in 1969, at the age of 31. It was through the persistant efforts of his mother that his manuscript was finally published in 1980; it won the Pulitzer Prize for 1981.
"A Confederacy of Dunces" takes its title from a quote by Jonathan Swift: "When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him."
This is the story of 30-year-old Ignatius J. Reilly, an educated, intelligent individual -- the "true genius" -- who is additionally slovenly, paranoid, and lazy to the extreme. Ignatius lives with (some might say, sponges off of ) his mother in an uptown neighborhood of New Orleans. He detests and mocks modern society and culture, declaiming it as perverse and in bad taste, and does his best to either avoid interacting with it, or to attempt to somehow sabotage it. He much prefers the Middle Ages. Ignatius never accepts responsibility for anything that occurs within his parochial little world, and generally blames his circumstances on the turning of the wheel of Fate. He obssesses about any number of things, including his deceased dog, but in particular the hated Myrna Minkoff, whom he met in college and with whom he continues to have the most bizarre, competitive long-distance relationship.
His mother, influenced by a new friend, ultimately "forces" Ignatius to find gainful employment, and this leads him on a series of adventures as first, a worker in a pants factory office, and later, as a hot dog vendor. He encounters a variety of colorful characters, fails remarkably in attempts to mount several revolutionary social movements, and unwittingly assists in breaking up a pornography ring.
Ignatius J. Reilly, in his green hunting cap, flannel shirt, and baggy pants, is obnoxious, occasionally delusional, flatulant, and thoroughly unlikeable. Reading this book was a lot like watching a train wreck -- horrible and fascinating. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but it was quite an illuminating experience!
Toole's writing is notable for its dead-on descriptions of the time (circa 1963), the city of New Orleans, the dialects, and the characters.
"A Confederacy of Dunces" takes its title from a quote by Jonathan Swift: "When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him."
This is the story of 30-year-old Ignatius J. Reilly, an educated, intelligent individual -- the "true genius" -- who is additionally slovenly, paranoid, and lazy to the extreme. Ignatius lives with (some might say, sponges off of ) his mother in an uptown neighborhood of New Orleans. He detests and mocks modern society and culture, declaiming it as perverse and in bad taste, and does his best to either avoid interacting with it, or to attempt to somehow sabotage it. He much prefers the Middle Ages. Ignatius never accepts responsibility for anything that occurs within his parochial little world, and generally blames his circumstances on the turning of the wheel of Fate. He obssesses about any number of things, including his deceased dog, but in particular the hated Myrna Minkoff, whom he met in college and with whom he continues to have the most bizarre, competitive long-distance relationship.
His mother, influenced by a new friend, ultimately "forces" Ignatius to find gainful employment, and this leads him on a series of adventures as first, a worker in a pants factory office, and later, as a hot dog vendor. He encounters a variety of colorful characters, fails remarkably in attempts to mount several revolutionary social movements, and unwittingly assists in breaking up a pornography ring.
Ignatius J. Reilly, in his green hunting cap, flannel shirt, and baggy pants, is obnoxious, occasionally delusional, flatulant, and thoroughly unlikeable. Reading this book was a lot like watching a train wreck -- horrible and fascinating. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but it was quite an illuminating experience!
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