BIBLIOPHILE
I love books. Books are great. They taught me how to form the simple sentences that precede this one though mucho credit has to go to my daddy for teaching me to read at two. He's real proud of that and brings it up a lot so I thought I'd share. I used to read all the time and I mean all the time; in class, at home, on the porch, on the road, I always had a book in my hand. At some point my reading habits changed and I begun to read less frequently, maybe it had something to do with finally making friends. Either way, books have remained an important part of my life. I love inanimate things and they tolerate me. Below are a list of books that I, along with my friend, Monica, feel were important to our lives at some point. Some are really bad and others are really good, still others are not even worth mentioning, but they get all the fruity pork props here. I'm also including a list of books that have recently come to my attention; books I discovered when I became a little older. Don't be disappointed if "the classics" aren't mentioned, I think they get enough pub and besides a good portion of them are classics only by virtue of their authors' historical roles. There are a good many that deserve a pea or two and a pea or two I shall give. Enjoy!
Lizard Music-I went to Ray School. Now those of you who don't live in Chicago probably don't care, even those of you who do couldn't give less of an colloquial coital episode; but there's a point to me telling you this. At Ray we went on lots of field trips, most of them consisting of half-assed treks down the street. On this one particular day we trekked across the street to 57th street books. This was the field trip--a walk across the street. Anyway, there was probably some boring older person who lectured on the "joys of reading," but the highlight of the trip was buying this book. It's great and I still enjoy it to this day. You know how they tell you never to tell a child what they can't do because that only limits their intellect or something like that, well it's true. D. Manus Pinkwater, the author, seems to know this and takes full advantage of the kiddie intellect. He introduces an invisible world across the sea, singing lizards with a language consisting primarily of intonation, Walter Kronkite, and a dude with a pet chicken. Believe me, this book is a great read and it has a lot more sense than the average TV show. If you can spare two hours--the book is pretty short--then read it.
A Wrinkle In Time-Now why is this one of the greatest books ever? Well, it could be just because Monica and I say so, but there are some reasons that I have to give the author credit for. The basics: a family of freakish kids with a pretty mother who's a scientist, a missing father who's also a scientist, three characters named after commonly asked questions, and interplanetary (inter-dimensionary?) travel. With these few things L'Engle creates a book that you can't put down, that teaches you what mitochondria and tessering are--when I read this the first time, I had no idea that either existed--and a book that brilliantly explores good and evil in ways that are lightyears beyond jesus/good devil/bad sunday school lessons. Buy a copy for everyone you know.
Paradise-Ignore the Oprah Book Club Seal, this is a good book. No, rewind. This is an excellent book, one of the best I've ever read. There are some who would criticize Toni (Ms. Morrison if ya nasty) for her style of writing, her choice of subject matter, her hairstyle, eye color, etc. These are the people who deserve to eat bad beef and contract mad cow disease. Call me subjective, but I can't see how you can dispute Toni's mastery, she always finds the perfect word, just enough imagery to stop short of Hemingway-like boredom while providing the exact portrait of what she seeks to express, and she's good at sneaking in hella brain food (fish anyone?). This book here may be my favorite of hers, but it's hard to decide. It's, and pardon me for saying so, radically feminist, not in the "auuggghh, i hate all men!!!!" way, but in the "male and female genderization is bullshit, let's explore this," completely necessary way, and I dig it. It's not spoon-feeding, you're not knocked over by an agenda, you slowly come to questioning with every turn of the page cuz the story's so engrossing and rich. You'll especially find yourself talking to the damned thing if you happen to be a black female with a wealth of average black female experiences under your belt. I remember when this book first came out. She had recently won the Nobel prize that many retard-ass WASPs felt she was unqualified for (whatever) and she was making an appearance at Harold Washington Library downtown. The lecture hall was filled to capacity and the downstairs auditorium that only housed teleprompters of her book reading was also full o' folks. I had been oblivious to her status until then, but after situating myself into one square inch of space just to hear her read a couple of passages, I realized that Toni Morrison was a celebrity and rightfully so. The woman can write like nobody's business.
Cat's Cradle-Kurt Vonnegut Jr. was first introduced to me by my good friend Monica Foucher with this book. I loved it from the first page. I still love it. In fact, I've read it more times than I've gone to class this week. Yes siree, it's a good read. I'm fishing here, I really don't know what to say. Let's see.....it's not sci-fi, though many would say so. It's more readable fantasy that's not so far-fetched that you're left with a feeling of "this could never happen." The main storyline, a bunch of freakish children (one a midget, one a large woman, the other just plain freakish) of a freakish scientist who happened to be one of the "fore-fathers of the atomic bomb." They, on the night of said father's death, come into posession of ice-9, a compound that freezes any liquid upon contact. Take a minute and think about the implications of that. Yep, coupled with these freakish chracters and this ice-9 you get a huge dose of Vonnegut's satirical, sarcastic, true, endearing, quotable humor that just makes you wish you had thought of it. It's a great book, trust me. I'm not doing it justice with this review, but pick it up anyway, it's a short read.
Wuthering Heights-So this is your traditional "classic." I don't care, this book is incredible, if not for the characters alone. There have been really bad to acceptable movies made out of this book, but we all know that the book is always better. The prevailing view of this here story if that it's a portrait of one of the greatest love affairs ever. People who think this are either really sick (like myself) or have never, ever read this book. The story centers on two "lovers(?)"--question mark because their love is quite unconventional and it's questioned whether their love is ever requited in the usual sense of the word--Catherine and Heathcliff. Catherine's the wild daughter of Mr. Earnshaw and Heathcliff is the wild "gypsy"--no one ever really knows his origin--child that he finds and adopts. They are closer than close, often claiming to be the same person, sharing the same soul blah blah. As is necessary in books with villians, Heathcliff is treated like shit when Mr. Earnshaw dies and feels slighted when Cathy becomes engaged to some hoity-toity, refined boy down the block and leaves only to return rich and powerful. More plot, blah blah blah. The main thing about this book is that Cathy and Heathcliff's love is far from the hot n steamy, sterotypical male/female genderized marriage bullshit that you get in most books. They are both vicious, selfish, stingy brats who belong together, if only to save others from their intolerable personalities. Cathy doesn't cook Heathcliff meals and Heathcliff doesn't pick flowers for the little lady. They don't cuddle or mince words with each other. And, most importantly, they don't live happily ever after (not really anyway). As a matter of fact Cathy dies halfway through, yet she seems to command all action thereafter from the grave. Heathcliff is supposed to be the dark, handsome leading male that we fall in love with, but he's a horrible person. Undoubtedly both Cathy and Heathcliff were scorpios, it's the only explanation for their plain dismissal of anyone's feelings but their own (i don't really mean this). There's subplot involving other characters, but who really cares, it's all about Cathy and Heathy, who both die and supposedly roam the Heights together as ghosts, go figure. People were freaked out when this book was first published (under the pseudonym Ellis Bell), finding it horribly disagreeable. Imagine if they knew it was written by a woman, holy shit right? Anyway, I love it and if ole Emily was here today, I'd give her a pound.
Shatterday/Jefty is Five-I used to work at the Crow's Nest, an independent (sorta) music store known for it's discriminating selection (sorta) and freakishly troubled staff (for real). There, I laughed, I cried, I ate, I shat. It was a wonderful time, but Querida had to make some money so she left. I had the good fortune of meeting some wonderful people too. One such person was Bob. Bob is the man. These are very simple sentences. One day, Bob handed me an out-of-print, coverless book of short stories by Harlan Ellison. I read this collection and began my fascination with this Harlan Ellison guy, even writing the most intensive analytical paper of my undergrad career on one of his stories (this is not saying much, intensive is quite relative here seeing that I am the laziest person alive). However, I'm not gonna write about the collection as a whole, just one story, "Jefty is Five." In a sense, it's kinda pointless, because I've lost my ability to express anything beyond humor and annoyance on paper or in person, but I must try. What about this--I wept like the baby Jesus when I finished this story. Wait, did Jesus cry or was he some sort of super non-crying tear ductless wonder from above? Whatever. The story's about two boys growing up together and one realizing at some point that his friend isn't aging as he is. In fact his friend, Jefty, remains five while he grows into an adolescent, then teen, then adult. I won't ruin the end because I really want you to read it, but understand that the appeal isn't the novelty of a boy who doesn't age, but the way in which Ellison is able to portray the regret of taking youth for granted and the innocence of a child in contrast to the overall harshness of the world. The shit struck a chord and I'm not even remotely human, so you've gotta love it. Look around, try a library. The Shatterday collection may be out of print, but it can be found. Thank me later.