Read: "The Contortionist's Handbook," by Craig Clevenger (2001?)
Why: Paid to
It's the story of a man who creates a bunch of aliases so he doesn't get thrown in jail or the mental hospital
Takeaway: One day I was dropping something off at my friend the publisher's, and offered to input some proofing corrections on another manuscript while I was there. Twenty pages in, I noticed two things: one, the proofreader had missed a lot of errors, and two, the manuscript was *fantastic*. Just beautifully written. It had a clear, fresh way of putting things -- a way of seeing images in a flash that made the book feel like a good movie. It was clear to me that every word had been considered. Once I read the whole thing straight through, it got even better. I like most things my friend publishes, but this was another kind of liking -- I realized I liked this book as a book, not just as a product of my friend, of whom I am very proud.
Friday, January 30, 2004
Read: "My Pilgrim's Progress," by George W.S. Trow (1998)
Why: Enjoyed his book "Within the Context of No Context," and found this on the shelf.
It's a collection of essays on 20th century culture
Takeaway: This book was mainly dictated, not written, and it is kind of fun to read for that reason alone. The language is very precise but there's a looseness of expression that makes the words fly by.
While reading this book, though, see if you don't start thinking about your own smart friends, and how they might have deeper things to say. Trow's main theme is that the WASP context in which he grew up, as a kid born during World War II, is gone -- that our culture, which we used to create ourselves, has taken on its own life, and we're now separate from it. He's speaking as a representative of the culture-creating class of 1950; his main qualification for writing this book seems to be his family background and the books he can remember reading as he speaks into his tape recorder, feeling around for something specific to say about his vague sense that things have changed. It feels like a long phone call. There's one eye-glazing section where he reads the headlines of a 1950 New York Times directly onto the page. You know he thinks it's significant, but it just seems corny, casting around for something to hook an idea onto. In the end maybe that's why I wasn't as pleased with this book as I was with "Within the Context of No Context." The insights seem like chitchat (like, "To me, John O'Hara was the greatest chronicler of the 1920s"). It gave me an idea for a business, though, which would be to record everyone's thoughts on modern society and type them up for $25 a page.
Why: Enjoyed his book "Within the Context of No Context," and found this on the shelf.
It's a collection of essays on 20th century culture
Takeaway: This book was mainly dictated, not written, and it is kind of fun to read for that reason alone. The language is very precise but there's a looseness of expression that makes the words fly by.
While reading this book, though, see if you don't start thinking about your own smart friends, and how they might have deeper things to say. Trow's main theme is that the WASP context in which he grew up, as a kid born during World War II, is gone -- that our culture, which we used to create ourselves, has taken on its own life, and we're now separate from it. He's speaking as a representative of the culture-creating class of 1950; his main qualification for writing this book seems to be his family background and the books he can remember reading as he speaks into his tape recorder, feeling around for something specific to say about his vague sense that things have changed. It feels like a long phone call. There's one eye-glazing section where he reads the headlines of a 1950 New York Times directly onto the page. You know he thinks it's significant, but it just seems corny, casting around for something to hook an idea onto. In the end maybe that's why I wasn't as pleased with this book as I was with "Within the Context of No Context." The insights seem like chitchat (like, "To me, John O'Hara was the greatest chronicler of the 1920s"). It gave me an idea for a business, though, which would be to record everyone's thoughts on modern society and type them up for $25 a page.
Read: "I Was Dora Suarez," by Derek Raymond (1990)
Why: An article in the Boston Globe recommended it.
It's a mystery set in late-1980s London. Crabby detective, kicked off the force for striking fellow officer in previous book in series, is called back to solve disgusting double murder. He finds the journal of one of the victims and starts to get into her head, fueling his need to find the killer and revenge her death and the death of all victims.
Takeaway: There's something sort of depressing about a book that tells the reader to anticipate a shock, anticipate it, anticipate it, then here comes the shock, and here it is! Shocked? Because it's just never as shocking as what you're anticipating in your head. Same goes with expressions of sheer beauty, like when you know someone's going to heaven, and what is it going to look like? This book starts with one shocking scene that you aren't set up to anticipate, and it really is a knockout. But the rest of the book revolves around three separate questions whose answers are meant to shock you too (What happened to Dora? What's upstairs? What's that guy doing in there?), and they're built up to and built up to, and then -- you get the answer and then, okay, you know. It's informative but not satisfying.
There's also a lesson about not tying your book to current events. A couple plot points in here have worn out their ability to shock; one in particular has become the punchline of a joke. It's one of the books I wish I could re-edit.
Why: An article in the Boston Globe recommended it.
It's a mystery set in late-1980s London. Crabby detective, kicked off the force for striking fellow officer in previous book in series, is called back to solve disgusting double murder. He finds the journal of one of the victims and starts to get into her head, fueling his need to find the killer and revenge her death and the death of all victims.
Takeaway: There's something sort of depressing about a book that tells the reader to anticipate a shock, anticipate it, anticipate it, then here comes the shock, and here it is! Shocked? Because it's just never as shocking as what you're anticipating in your head. Same goes with expressions of sheer beauty, like when you know someone's going to heaven, and what is it going to look like? This book starts with one shocking scene that you aren't set up to anticipate, and it really is a knockout. But the rest of the book revolves around three separate questions whose answers are meant to shock you too (What happened to Dora? What's upstairs? What's that guy doing in there?), and they're built up to and built up to, and then -- you get the answer and then, okay, you know. It's informative but not satisfying.
There's also a lesson about not tying your book to current events. A couple plot points in here have worn out their ability to shock; one in particular has become the punchline of a joke. It's one of the books I wish I could re-edit.