Always an invigorating thing after Christmas. I just went out and redeemed a Borders gift card for a few titles I've been meaning to read, among them Malcolm Lowry's Under the Volcano, so that's what I'm about to start reading once I'm finished with this. I hope it lives up to its reputation.
Re-cap on The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay ... after having let the book sit and percolate through my mind for a few days, I really do think it deserves its reputation. Chabon packed so many ideas into the book, and covered so much ground, that one can't help but be impressed by its ambitions and scope. I would like to go back and read it again, one of these days. And really, isn't that the highest compliment you can pay a book?
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Monday, December 25, 2006
Merry Christmas!
Finished Kavalier & Clay ... update on that when it's not a major holiday.
I also just received Mark Z. Danielewski's Only Revolutions, so I may tackle that next ... although I'm worried that without having read Finnegan's Wake, I'll miss something.
That's it for today ... time for food, family, frustration & other Christmastime traditions.
I also just received Mark Z. Danielewski's Only Revolutions, so I may tackle that next ... although I'm worried that without having read Finnegan's Wake, I'll miss something.
That's it for today ... time for food, family, frustration & other Christmastime traditions.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Kavalier & Clay, Part II
I'm trying to knock this book out before Christmas, when I'll hopefully be able to accumulate a new pile of reading material. Which gives me one more day. No sweat, though, I'm on track to reach the big finish at some point tomorrow.
I suppose I can see now why Chabon needed all that Antarctica crap - it did make for some good character development. But I still wish it could have been a little shorter and a little less elaborate.
I'm also intrigued by the role of radios in the novel. And by the concept of radios. The wavelength, the measurable frequency on which your voice can physically connect with someone else's voice, the crossed lines, the hidden stations lurking somewhere beneath your fingertips. I know there must be a reason Joe is so obsessed with radios, and that's something I'd like to explore more. There's also the essential underground nature of radios. The ability to broadcast on a weak signal in a very limited area makes the radio a haven for those trying to fly under the radar - as is the case with nearly every single character in the book. Certainly Joe, and obviously Sammy. And Rosa, too, I believe - trying to live a surrealistic life of dreams to blot out the mundane routine that her once-bohemian life has collapsed into.
Actually, that's an interesting thing about Rosa that I just now thought of. When she was young, she cherished her dreams - she wrote down all those dreamwords in her sleep, and based entire works of art off of them. When she grows up and marries Sammy, she becomes an insomniac. Coincidence? It seems that all the characters are trying to deny the surrealism in their lives in some way - but by doing so, they only project themselves further into the kind of bizarre, biomorphic landscape that Dali would have praised.
I suppose I can see now why Chabon needed all that Antarctica crap - it did make for some good character development. But I still wish it could have been a little shorter and a little less elaborate.
I'm also intrigued by the role of radios in the novel. And by the concept of radios. The wavelength, the measurable frequency on which your voice can physically connect with someone else's voice, the crossed lines, the hidden stations lurking somewhere beneath your fingertips. I know there must be a reason Joe is so obsessed with radios, and that's something I'd like to explore more. There's also the essential underground nature of radios. The ability to broadcast on a weak signal in a very limited area makes the radio a haven for those trying to fly under the radar - as is the case with nearly every single character in the book. Certainly Joe, and obviously Sammy. And Rosa, too, I believe - trying to live a surrealistic life of dreams to blot out the mundane routine that her once-bohemian life has collapsed into.
Actually, that's an interesting thing about Rosa that I just now thought of. When she was young, she cherished her dreams - she wrote down all those dreamwords in her sleep, and based entire works of art off of them. When she grows up and marries Sammy, she becomes an insomniac. Coincidence? It seems that all the characters are trying to deny the surrealism in their lives in some way - but by doing so, they only project themselves further into the kind of bizarre, biomorphic landscape that Dali would have praised.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Kavalier & Clay
So I'm on page 460 or so of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, one of those books I've been "meaning to read" for about a year now, and have delayed out of some perverted fear that I'll actually end up hating the thing. I can safely report that I'm thoroughly enjoying it, although the section I'm in now seems a bit to me like Chabon had the following conversation with himself:
Rational Chabon: Oh shit, I just killed off a major motivating factor in the life of one of my main characters. How do I recover from this one?
Chabon the Writer: Hmmm ... Antarctica!
Rational Chabon: Antarctica? You have got to be fucking kidding me. There's nothing IN Antarctica. This book will keel over and die of hypothermia.
Chabon the Writer: Exactly. There's nothing in Antarctica. So I can just make up a bunch of shit until my character has a better idea of how he's going to get himself into my well-conceived ending.
Well, whatever. I suppose I forgive Chabon for this nadir-centric diversion, as long as he does end up getting everyone back in New York where they belong by the end. The only other thing that's bugged me is Chabon's incessant cataloguing of things. It's cute the first time, but by the fiftieth time you're forced to read one of those "insightful" lists of things, it gets pretty old.
Other than those nits, though, a very enjoying read. I am considering it as a contender for the never-to-be-awarded title of the "Great American Novel," if just for the incisive and patent manner in which it deals with the nature of dreams - lucid, surreal, and simply hopeful - and the Gatsbian quality of the Big Apple to corrupt and confuse people. Hey, that latter one is a proven fact - just ask Donald Trump.
Rational Chabon: Oh shit, I just killed off a major motivating factor in the life of one of my main characters. How do I recover from this one?
Chabon the Writer: Hmmm ... Antarctica!
Rational Chabon: Antarctica? You have got to be fucking kidding me. There's nothing IN Antarctica. This book will keel over and die of hypothermia.
Chabon the Writer: Exactly. There's nothing in Antarctica. So I can just make up a bunch of shit until my character has a better idea of how he's going to get himself into my well-conceived ending.
Well, whatever. I suppose I forgive Chabon for this nadir-centric diversion, as long as he does end up getting everyone back in New York where they belong by the end. The only other thing that's bugged me is Chabon's incessant cataloguing of things. It's cute the first time, but by the fiftieth time you're forced to read one of those "insightful" lists of things, it gets pretty old.
Other than those nits, though, a very enjoying read. I am considering it as a contender for the never-to-be-awarded title of the "Great American Novel," if just for the incisive and patent manner in which it deals with the nature of dreams - lucid, surreal, and simply hopeful - and the Gatsbian quality of the Big Apple to corrupt and confuse people. Hey, that latter one is a proven fact - just ask Donald Trump.
Let's try this again ...
So my former attempt to blog regularly failed. Big surprise. But I haven't given up. Armed with a new MacBook, a new resolve to read more books in the coming year than I managed this past year, and a refrigerator full or Diet Dr. Peppers, we'll see if I can make this attempt last just a little bit longer.
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