A few years ago, I read Housekeeping versus the Dirt by Nick Hornby; it was a collection of essays he'd done for The Believer, in which he talked about books he was reading/had just read/was longing to read. His columns were not strictly book reviews but rather a peek into one reader’s experiences. Month after month (when the editorial staff he calls “The Polysyllabic Spree” dained to publish it, that is), he would write about books he’s bought and books he’s read. I saw that he, like any reader, picks up books that sit on the shelf for ages, sometimes goes on binges, sometimes savors each page like one might savor a perfectly-aged brandy.
A few days ago, I was asked to be part of this august group, the Progressive Friends of the Library, and while I have a non-fiction writing series that I wrote last fall and am happy to have republished (and read by new eyes), I also thought I should contribute something new to the group. I'm not easy with book reviews, but I can talk about my own experience as a reader, and maybe encourage others to do the same. (Note that I am calling this an occasional series - if I put a deadline on it, I'll freak out and not write a word, or worse still, write something hurried and sub-par.)
And so, below the fold is the first of my explorations as The Reader.
Books in the Queue:
This Odd and Wonderous Calling by Lillian Daniel and Martin Copenhaver
The Ode Less Travelled by Stephen Fry
From Dawn to Decadence by Jacques Barzun
Books in Process:
Big Trouble by Dave Barry
Let Your Life Speak by Parker Palmer
Books Just Read:
36 Arguments for the Existence of God by Rebecca Newberger Goldstein
A diverse list, to be sure. Broad comedy, deep historical analysis, inspiration, vocation, and provocation. The books in the queue have been there for a while and recently percolated to the top of the list; they were all Christmas presents, and while I have books from Christmasses past that I've not cracked, these three all felt important enough to keep on the active queue.
I admit that I've read Fry's book before - I had borrowed it from the library and absorbed it. I knew I wanted to go back and not just read about poetry but take Fry's advice and write it. I couldn't justify the constant renewals, knowing there was a queue waiting for me to return the damn thing, and so I put it on my Christmas list and voila, here it is, waiting for me to be inspired.
And I wait. Any day now....I'm sure of it.
But meanwhile, this book pushes its reading glasses down on its nose and looks at me in that disapproving way that says "you really should just tuck in and get to it, you know." It has a superior air and sniffs when I push it aside. (And it's not even hardcover - all this, from a trade paperback!)
But push it I do, and think I'd rather put a 878-page history in front of it on the list. I'm intrigued by From Dawn to Decadence; its subtitle is 500 Years of Western Cultural Life. I've been thinking a lot about context lately, and how we can't separate political history from cultural, environmental, social, or religious history. This book seems to be examining our history in context, and I look forward to diving in.
But not yet, because I have Dave Barry to read.
I admit, sometimes you just need something light, and Barry fits the bill. Other light books of my recent past include Grisham's Playing for Pizza and a re-read of Rita Mae Brown's Six of One. It can't all be serious, can it? Of course not.
Barry's book - also a movie starring Tim Allen, Rene Russo, Janeane Garafalo, and Stanley Tucci, among others - is a comic story of corporate revenge, young love, despair, Russian bombs, and beer. Yes, comic. Stay tuned...I'll tell you more. Suffice it to say for now that I'm laughing out loud as I read, which is always a good sign.
But on to the book I just finished.
I first heard about 36 Arguments for the Existence of God in a sermon last fall; my minister used the storyline of a young mathematics genius who chooses to stay in the Hassidic village he's destined to lead to talk about choices and free will. I was intrigued, and after reading more online, I discovered that this novel also looked at belief and morality, and living with fame, fortune, eccentricity, and uncertainty. Goldstein, whose partner is the famed mind guy Steven Pinker, likely took a few pages from Pinker's own life for her main character, Cass Seltzer, an expert in the psychologist of religion who finds his book The Varieties of Religious Illusion has made him not just an overnight fortune but also an overnight celebrity.
Throughout the book, we hear rantings, ravings, and revelations about what it means to be religious and what it means to be ethical and moral. But what struck me as I read was the underlying story about being a poser, a snob, an intentional eccentric. Goldstein works very hard to make sure Cass is real, but every other character seems to wrestle with - and fail at - being human. I was struck over and over again by the shallowness with which Golstein wrote even her sympathetic characters, and it made me frustrated. It seemed reactions and actions - outside of Cass's - were abrupt and without meaning. I'd get pissed, and then get a bit lost in another long meandering about the nature of God... and then I'd wonder "why am I reading this if I'm annoyed?" And yet, there was something compelling about Cass and the Hassidic boy that kept me coming back.
It wasn't until today that it dawned on me: of course this is how I should experience these characters. It's how Cass is experiencing them. It's how we experience people. Someone suddenly quits a job, or breaks off an engagement, or decides to go back to school, and most of the time, you've not been in on their thought process; you only see the end result.
And so I add this rather masterful piece of character development to the list of reasons I would recommend this book. It's not for the faint of heart... there are long explorations into metaphysics and religious rationale that will send true believers and atheists alike running for the hills.
I will say this isn't a book you absorb. It's dense with ideas, and sometimes I found the writing to be... well, a bit full of itself. And I found that I would push it aside for weeks at a time because I was finding Goldstein's storytelling frustrating.
But worth it.