I'm starting on Borges tonight. It was supposed to be Friday, but it took me a while to locate the book. I was about to order it online, when Todd told me he has it, only no idea where. So we've spent the last two days digging through the apartment... And there it was! In the bedroom closet, safely hidden behind the TV.
So Collected Fictions it is.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
The lovely letter B
You'll find the 'B' list below. Have a look and let me know, I'd like to make my decision and order the book on Friday--paycheck day!
1. Honore de Balzac A Harlot High and Low 4.10
2. Henri Barbusse Under Fire 3.74
3. Donald Barthelme Sixty Stories 4.34
4. Saul Bellow Humboldt's Gift 3.80
5. Giovanni Boccaccio The Decameron 3.81
6. Jorge Louis Borges Collected Fictions 4.62
7. Bertolt Brecht The Good Person of Szechwan 3.58
8. Jean-Authelme Brillat-Savarin The Physiology of Taste 4.11
9. John Buchan The Thirty Nine Steps 3.55
10. Mikhail Bulgakov A Dead Man's Memoir 3.67
As I hope you remember, the grades next to each title are GoodReads.com rankings, that I will base my decision on, in case no other favorite emerges from a discussion.
When it comes to Saul Bellow, I had a really hard time making a choice--a selection of his writings published by Penguin is truly astonishing. I consulted multiple sources but, in the end, decided to go by my gut. We'll see.
Also, I might end up adding Isaiah Berlin's Russian Thinkers to my reading list, as a kind of non-fiction supplement to whatever I will end up reading. I guess I just need my monthly fix of all things Eastern European.
1. Honore de Balzac A Harlot High and Low 4.10
2. Henri Barbusse Under Fire 3.74
3. Donald Barthelme Sixty Stories 4.34
4. Saul Bellow Humboldt's Gift 3.80
5. Giovanni Boccaccio The Decameron 3.81
6. Jorge Louis Borges Collected Fictions 4.62
7. Bertolt Brecht The Good Person of Szechwan 3.58
8. Jean-Authelme Brillat-Savarin The Physiology of Taste 4.11
9. John Buchan The Thirty Nine Steps 3.55
10. Mikhail Bulgakov A Dead Man's Memoir 3.67
As I hope you remember, the grades next to each title are GoodReads.com rankings, that I will base my decision on, in case no other favorite emerges from a discussion.
When it comes to Saul Bellow, I had a really hard time making a choice--a selection of his writings published by Penguin is truly astonishing. I consulted multiple sources but, in the end, decided to go by my gut. We'll see.
Also, I might end up adding Isaiah Berlin's Russian Thinkers to my reading list, as a kind of non-fiction supplement to whatever I will end up reading. I guess I just need my monthly fix of all things Eastern European.
[I will not even try to come up with an excuse for this break. Let's just pretend it never happened.]
After the intimate emotional connection I felt with Tevye, Motl just didn't cut it for me.
With all his inherent vices (complete disregard for women, blind faith in providence, fatalism, lack of initiative, preoccupation with material goods), Tevye was a man I could relate to. His Eastern European spirit was real; so real I often felt back home again.
In a surprising way, one could feel the same connection developing between the author and his character. It seems (from a reader's perspective), that Tevye was originally created as a comical character; a personification of all the minor vices Sholem Aleichem saw prevalent in his community. He was designed to be laughed at. But as the book progressed, I (seemingly together with the author) went from laughing at him, to laughing with him, to crying with him. His quirky sense of humor (initially rather obnoxious and ascribed to ignorance) was just a way of dealing with the rapid disintegration of the world as he knew it, a world that 15 years later was to be annihilated in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. We all have survival mechanism that instantly transfer us to our mental comfort zones. In the end, Tevye's was close to heart.
Motl is a different story. I understand the need for a Jewish diaspora literature portraying the history of pogroms, escapes, endless journeys, transoceanic passages and the adaptation to the new homeland in a comic, rather than tragic way. And what a better way than to tell the story from a perspective of a nine-year-old, who couldn't possibly comprehend the enormity of tragedies, trials and tribulations befalling his family?
But, with all his naivete and freshness, Motl remains unconvincing as a narrator; unconvincing to the point where his story becomes irrelevant. It's true that a child, unable to comprehend the complexities of the outside world, often focuses on the most absurd (at least to an adult mind) details, to try and make something out of the overwhelming confusion. It is also true that a child is more likely than its parents to notice comical aspects of a supposedly tragic situation. [It is worth pointing out that the idea of dealing with the incomprehensible with either ignorance or humor, or both, is a recurring theme in Sholem Aleichem's writing.] What is unlikely is for a child to be so utterly and completely immune to the emotions of those surrounding it, most notably its own mother.
Motl is never scared or truly confused. The death of his father, the slow and degrading downward spiral the rest of his family, the violence of the pogroms, and finally the never-ending and humiliating journey from a Ukrainian village to New York's Lower East Side--all that leaves Motl unmoved, emotionally unchanged, spiritually quiescent. It also leaves us... oblivious. One hundred pages into the novella and I was still reading it mainly because I promised myself I will not give up on books in this challenge.
Aliza Shervin, who translated Tevye the Dairyman and Motl the Cantor's Son from Yiddish, points out in her introduction to the book that, by the second part of Motl, written right before Sholem Aleichem's death in 1916, a reader can easily notice the deterioration of his mental abilities (the book does not have a proper ending, it just stops mid-way through a chapter) due to his age and severe illness. As true as this explanation might be, that an aging author was way past his glory days at the time of writing, it is hardly an excuse for a mediocre book.
In other words, if Tevye is a filet mignon, Motl is a London broil.
After the intimate emotional connection I felt with Tevye, Motl just didn't cut it for me.
With all his inherent vices (complete disregard for women, blind faith in providence, fatalism, lack of initiative, preoccupation with material goods), Tevye was a man I could relate to. His Eastern European spirit was real; so real I often felt back home again.
In a surprising way, one could feel the same connection developing between the author and his character. It seems (from a reader's perspective), that Tevye was originally created as a comical character; a personification of all the minor vices Sholem Aleichem saw prevalent in his community. He was designed to be laughed at. But as the book progressed, I (seemingly together with the author) went from laughing at him, to laughing with him, to crying with him. His quirky sense of humor (initially rather obnoxious and ascribed to ignorance) was just a way of dealing with the rapid disintegration of the world as he knew it, a world that 15 years later was to be annihilated in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. We all have survival mechanism that instantly transfer us to our mental comfort zones. In the end, Tevye's was close to heart.
Motl is a different story. I understand the need for a Jewish diaspora literature portraying the history of pogroms, escapes, endless journeys, transoceanic passages and the adaptation to the new homeland in a comic, rather than tragic way. And what a better way than to tell the story from a perspective of a nine-year-old, who couldn't possibly comprehend the enormity of tragedies, trials and tribulations befalling his family?
But, with all his naivete and freshness, Motl remains unconvincing as a narrator; unconvincing to the point where his story becomes irrelevant. It's true that a child, unable to comprehend the complexities of the outside world, often focuses on the most absurd (at least to an adult mind) details, to try and make something out of the overwhelming confusion. It is also true that a child is more likely than its parents to notice comical aspects of a supposedly tragic situation. [It is worth pointing out that the idea of dealing with the incomprehensible with either ignorance or humor, or both, is a recurring theme in Sholem Aleichem's writing.] What is unlikely is for a child to be so utterly and completely immune to the emotions of those surrounding it, most notably its own mother.
Motl is never scared or truly confused. The death of his father, the slow and degrading downward spiral the rest of his family, the violence of the pogroms, and finally the never-ending and humiliating journey from a Ukrainian village to New York's Lower East Side--all that leaves Motl unmoved, emotionally unchanged, spiritually quiescent. It also leaves us... oblivious. One hundred pages into the novella and I was still reading it mainly because I promised myself I will not give up on books in this challenge.
Aliza Shervin, who translated Tevye the Dairyman and Motl the Cantor's Son from Yiddish, points out in her introduction to the book that, by the second part of Motl, written right before Sholem Aleichem's death in 1916, a reader can easily notice the deterioration of his mental abilities (the book does not have a proper ending, it just stops mid-way through a chapter) due to his age and severe illness. As true as this explanation might be, that an aging author was way past his glory days at the time of writing, it is hardly an excuse for a mediocre book.
In other words, if Tevye is a filet mignon, Motl is a London broil.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sorry for the long break. I was off to a rough start, but I'm back on track.
As promised by Amazon, the books arrived late on Tuesday and I spent the whole evening just staring at them and picking up each one for a minute, just to get distracted by another's cover. To make the matters even worse, Swafford's biography of Brahms and Magic Mountain came in the Wednesday mail. That pretty much ensured that I won't be able to properly focus on reading anything for days. Luckily, by now I'm all organized and settled.
Tevye is beautiful. It's simultaneously hilarious and filled with the kind of melancholic sorrow and longing for the days long gone. His folksy humor and greatly informative, if surprising, interpretations of the passages from the Torah ("Without wisdom and a good idea--you might as well ride a dead horse." or "Respect him and suspect him--in Ashkenaz that means a man can't trust his own dog.") make one laugh and wonder at the same time.
He is not a hero of our times; his parochial ignorance blatantly defying everything for which the XXI century stands. Tevye's faith in God is absolute, if blind. It provides him with a handy explanation (and excuse) for all his life's failures, which would have been laughable if it wasn't so honest.
I'm wondering to what big of an extent my understanding of this book is altered by the fact that I'm Eastern European. I might not be Jewish and, therefore, lack the insight into the spiritual musing of Tevye and his brethren, but my own childhood is a living proof that the Tevye-like mentality is not the artistic creation of Solem Aleichem, but the daily reality of many a rural communities in eastern Poland/western Ukraine. To an American reader, specifically to a gentile reader, it might be yet another example of the Eastern European backwardness, but I believe it to be more real, more human than many of the lives lived here.
But I think I'm getting carried away. I need to read deeper into the book and organize my thoughts somehow. More to come; this time with less of a break, hopefully.
As promised by Amazon, the books arrived late on Tuesday and I spent the whole evening just staring at them and picking up each one for a minute, just to get distracted by another's cover. To make the matters even worse, Swafford's biography of Brahms and Magic Mountain came in the Wednesday mail. That pretty much ensured that I won't be able to properly focus on reading anything for days. Luckily, by now I'm all organized and settled.
Tevye is beautiful. It's simultaneously hilarious and filled with the kind of melancholic sorrow and longing for the days long gone. His folksy humor and greatly informative, if surprising, interpretations of the passages from the Torah ("Without wisdom and a good idea--you might as well ride a dead horse." or "Respect him and suspect him--in Ashkenaz that means a man can't trust his own dog.") make one laugh and wonder at the same time.
He is not a hero of our times; his parochial ignorance blatantly defying everything for which the XXI century stands. Tevye's faith in God is absolute, if blind. It provides him with a handy explanation (and excuse) for all his life's failures, which would have been laughable if it wasn't so honest.
I'm wondering to what big of an extent my understanding of this book is altered by the fact that I'm Eastern European. I might not be Jewish and, therefore, lack the insight into the spiritual musing of Tevye and his brethren, but my own childhood is a living proof that the Tevye-like mentality is not the artistic creation of Solem Aleichem, but the daily reality of many a rural communities in eastern Poland/western Ukraine. To an American reader, specifically to a gentile reader, it might be yet another example of the Eastern European backwardness, but I believe it to be more real, more human than many of the lives lived here.
But I think I'm getting carried away. I need to read deeper into the book and organize my thoughts somehow. More to come; this time with less of a break, hopefully.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sholem Aleichem it is...
Today is the big day. The decision has been made. My first book is...
Sholem Aleichem Tevye the Dairyman and Motl the Cantor's Son!
I have also decided to pick up two other 'A' books, Anna Akhmatova's Selected Poems and Hannah Arendt's The Portable Hannah Arendt, both from the Penguin Classics series.
According to Amazon, they will be here Wednesday.
In the meantime, please contribute to the Saul Bellow discussion below.
Sholem Aleichem Tevye the Dairyman and Motl the Cantor's Son!
I have also decided to pick up two other 'A' books, Anna Akhmatova's Selected Poems and Hannah Arendt's The Portable Hannah Arendt, both from the Penguin Classics series.
According to Amazon, they will be here Wednesday.
In the meantime, please contribute to the Saul Bellow discussion below.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Saul Bellow
So the decision will be officially made and announced tomorrow, followed shortly (probably by the end of the coming week) by the publication of the 'B' list.
I've already started working on it, but I encountered some unexpected obstacles in the person of Saul Bellow. I've decided that I won't put more than one book by a particular author on the top 10 list and I'm completely baffled by Bellow--what should I read?
You have a couple of days to make your recommendations. Let's start by posting a list of some of his works alongside their GoodReads rankings.
1. The Actual: A Novella 3.24
2. The Adventures of Augie March 3.87
3. Dangling Man 3.59
4. Henderson the Rain King 3.72
5. Herzog 3.76
6. Humboldt's Gift 3.80
7. Mr. Sammler's Planet 3.62
8. To Jerusalem and Back: A Personal Account 3.51
I admit I was most driven to Dangling Man, Herzog or Humboldt's Gift (mind you I have never read anything by Bellow before), but I'm totally open to the other options so please, share your preferences.
I've already started working on it, but I encountered some unexpected obstacles in the person of Saul Bellow. I've decided that I won't put more than one book by a particular author on the top 10 list and I'm completely baffled by Bellow--what should I read?
You have a couple of days to make your recommendations. Let's start by posting a list of some of his works alongside their GoodReads rankings.
1. The Actual: A Novella 3.24
2. The Adventures of Augie March 3.87
3. Dangling Man 3.59
4. Henderson the Rain King 3.72
5. Herzog 3.76
6. Humboldt's Gift 3.80
7. Mr. Sammler's Planet 3.62
8. To Jerusalem and Back: A Personal Account 3.51
I admit I was most driven to Dangling Man, Herzog or Humboldt's Gift (mind you I have never read anything by Bellow before), but I'm totally open to the other options so please, share your preferences.
Friday, October 21, 2011
You can also follow the discussion here:
http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/56967.A_Z_Penguin_Classics_Challenge
I tried to set up a Facebook group, too, but I'm clearly not intellectually sophisticated enough for that.
I've decided to make Monday my deadline, so hurry up if you want your votes counted.
So far Sholem Aleichem is clearly leading, with Kingsley Amis and Aristotle tied in the second place. But there is still enough time for a complete reshuffle!
http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/56967.A_Z_Penguin_Classics_Challenge
I tried to set up a Facebook group, too, but I'm clearly not intellectually sophisticated enough for that.
I've decided to make Monday my deadline, so hurry up if you want your votes counted.
So far Sholem Aleichem is clearly leading, with Kingsley Amis and Aristotle tied in the second place. But there is still enough time for a complete reshuffle!
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