My First Post of 2010

Toward the end of last year, I decided to go a year without buying books. I had realized the sheer number of books I owned that I had not read, and thought I should tip the balance a little. I did hedge my bets and give myself a pass to purchase Gene Wolfe's new novel, The Sorcerer's House. Which I did buy. Three times. I bought two copies of the hardback, which I gave away, and a limited numbered edition signed by both the author, and Tim Powers, another favorite, who wrote the introduction to the special edition.

In interest of full disclosure, I did not buy any other books until Oct. 12, when Elmore Leonard released Djibouti. I haven't read it yet, and hope to hold out until January, but we'll see. Otherwise I've been an oak.

My initial goal for the year was to read 80 books, with only ten re-reads. There are certain books I read every year (The Moviegoer, Til We Have Faces, and Orthodoxy. I plan to add Pale Fire to this list, but I haven't read it this year yet). I tend to re-read heavily, which would run counter to my plans to make it through a substantial number of my unread books. Hence the ten re-read limit. So far I've read 68 books, 6 of which are re-reads.

My intention was to blog throughout the process, but we see how that worked out. My previous post (from last November) mentioned Jonathan Lethem's latest, Chronic City, which I abandoned, disappointed that it was not a return to the form of Motherless Brooklyn and Fortress of Solitude. However, since those books were not like anything he had written before, and not entirely like each other, that was unfair. I returned to the book in May, and, with adjusted expectations, enjoyed it quite a lot. I still prefer Motherless Brooklyn, Fortress of Solitude and Girl in Landscape, but this book stands with anything else he's written.

I've managed to get through some books that I had previously started and abandoned (Moby Dick, Herzog, War and Peace, The Gates of Eden by Ethan Coen) and some that have just been sitting on the shelf for years (The Color Purple, Cryptonomicon, Herodotus). I'm currently finishing up The Glory and the Dream by William Manchester and about a hundred pages into Expiration Date by the aforementioned Tim Powers.

Its been a good reading year, but a poor blogging one. I hope to remedy the latter, but I will refrain from promises.

So this is what I've been reading pt 1

Revisiting old favorite books is a dicey proposition. For instance, when I reread Franny and Zooey a couple of years back, it completely fell flat for me. Recently I realized that though I had read A Prayer for Owen Meany at least three times, I hadn't read it in at least 7 years (I've been keeping a log since 2002). Yet, I had consistently recommended it and proclaimed it a favorite. So I reread it and found that I do indeed like it as much or more as I ever did. It is sentimental and bitter and funny and tragic, and remarkably fair to belief for a book written by an agnostic writer. I've read other books by him (World According to Garp (good), The Fourth Hand (meh) and 158 Pound Marriage (awful)). None were as moving as this one.

Owen Meany is associated for me with Frederick Buechner (to whom the book is dedicated), an author whose books I have read and reread with great enthusiasm. I started re-reading Lion Country, the first in Buechners four novel "Book of Bebb". As much as I love the book, I put it aside when I realized that Nick Hornby had a new novel out the week before Jonathan Lethem had a new novel out.

"Juliet, Naked" is Nick Hornby is Nick Hornby at his best. Its on par with About a Boy and High Fidelity. Hornby is very sharp in terms of relationships and the ways they can unravel. An obscure songwriter from the 80's releases a demo version of his greatest album "Juliet". A rabid fan splits with his girlfriend as a result, and she improbably ends up corresponding with the songwriter. Hornby's a master.

I actually first read Jonathan Lethem after Hornby praised him highly in his first collection of Believer magazine columns, The Polysyllabic Spree. I quickly read through all his novels, and honestly surpassed Hornby in my estimation. Which is why I was so disappointed with Chronic City his latest. I'll give it another chance later, but I abandoned it for now.

Instead I re-read Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldrich, the best of the handful of Philip K Dick novels I've read.

Speaking of Hornby's collections of Believer columns, the last one was called Shakespeare Wrote for Money (what a great title). Reviews too often sound as if they happen in a void, and don't often depend on the mood/situation of the reviewer. Hornby adds that back and is incredibly funny to boot.

More later...