The Stranger

All my life, I have digested fiction with some semblance of understanding of premise, synopses, or otherwise far before delving into the containing text. "The Stranger" Is my exception to the rule.

There might be more than decade having passed since I've read a book from start to finish in all of a single day. Yet, an odd series of events, of influences pushed me through it.

The first being a purchase of a Kindle, which, rather then focusing on the page number and simple math to devise how much remains of a story, shows you the percentage of the book you've read. It appealed to the game player in me, attempting to complete this thing, though never finding myself rushing, or skimming through the details set before me.

The second, was that I had known nothing, and continued to know nothing about the story, but what was offered to me by the story itself. It became something of mystery, begging to be solved. I followed the main character as he attended his mothers funeral in almost a haze, and that same cloud seemed to continue throughout his journey as depicted by the author.

I can sympathize with the inability to feel, as of late, having had much difficulty, and spent many hours wondering what emotion was like, how deeply one felt it. Perhaps it is absurd to attempt to recall an emotion, yet somehow following the life of an individual who feels more affected by the weather, then his relationships became something of a train wreck that I couldn't pry my eyes from.

He is a man, seemingly missing a single, yet important aspect of what makes us human and because of that, falls into a series of events that cause his world to unravel. The worst, and most difficult parts are those shining glimmers that yes, inside of him is that piece, but for whatever reason, he constantly pushes it down in favour of a "realistic" view of the situation.

If only, at any point he would have just allowed this little rumblings to take hold, to allow them to express themselves openly, things would have ended up differently for him. In the end, for me it becomes something a warning, and much of an interesting piece of which I care not to read again.

As much as I want to be disgusted with what happened to him, with how he lived his life, or the book in general for creating such a picture. To me, it just is. A interesting book, a mystery now solved. Having been more than a week since I completed it, I can say enjoyed reading it. Not that I would suggest it to anyone else, but at the same time, for me, for that moment, and this point in my life, it was a important piece of literature.

Lazy Blogger, That's Me

Really? April, you say? That's the last time I updated? Oh.... um. OH LOOK A BIRD! There it goes, let's all watch it as I sneak away, back into my corner of shame.

I would like to tell you a story, I would like to sit you down, give you a blanket and a cup of something spiced and warm, and let your eyes unfocus on the firelight, while your mind dances away into a different world, lingers on descriptions, and tastes the light touch of each palpable word.

I'd like to tell you the story, of everything I've read, every beautiful prose and heartbreaking shard of perfect poetry.

Buuuut.... I can't really remember. So, I'll start with where I am now, which is as good a place to begin, as the beginning itself.

I'm currently around fourty (40) pages into The Well and the Mine by Gin Philips. It's a fairly new release, having been published first in April, and is the debut novel of Philips, and winner of a first place 'Discover Great New Writers' award from Barnes and Noble.

It tells the story of a family living in a rural Alabama coal mining town in the 1930's. It is told from several points of view (the children, the wife, and the husband), as they experience a murder-of-sorts in their backyard.

So far, it is written with impeccable precision, as though Philips were standing just out of sight, and observed these events herself, with an eye for translating them into prose.

On the first page, at the first line, she takes your hand, and jumps headlong with you into the thick, startling plot, and then seamlessly ambles, with an authentic ease of pace through the beginning of her story with an accent flavored heavily with the warmth of southern summers, and the bleak worry of poverty hanging just behind that curtain of misleading comfort.

It strikes the reader as simultaneously lulling and discomforting, an emotion perfectly suited to the uneasy mystery in her novel.

On a personal note, I think it's rather lovely so far. I can't attest for much, being such a short way in, but I feel at complete ease in the hands of Ms. Philips, who impresses even more, being that this is her first novel, and yet told with such a convincing authority, and intriguingly unique delivery, that one cannot but help to crave just a few more pages, just a couple more lines, before bed, or work, or school, draws you reluctantly outward again, and away from what is unarguably, and invaluably, a very good book.

I'll let you know how I find the rest of it, as it comes. Hopefully sooner than next April;P

"On Writing" Thoughts as I go (2)

"Your job isn't to find these ideas but recognize them when they show up"

This is a exert from Stephen Kings "On Writing" when speaking of the first original idea he had for a story. This really stuck out to me in particular, enough so that I read it a few times just to feel that sensation again.

It started me thinking of my own increasingly large list of ideas that could somehow unbeknown to me be turned into interesting prose or stories. For me, the problem has rarely even been ideas, but the implementation of them. I realized, sometimes that doing the easy thing "The simple story" Things you might feel are beneath you might just be better then staring down an amazing idea for all eternity.

Granted, it has become exponentially evident that the more I learn, the more I realize how little I really know about anything.

Matthew Out -

"On Writing" Thoughts as I go.

"On Writing" Is, from my current understanding a book about the evolution and creation of a writer, and writers craft itself. I can tell you truthfully that I was skeptical, even as I bought it, perhaps especially then, that I had used a ten of my precious remaining dollars to buy something not immediately on the need list.

While I'm not far in, I am enjoying it in an entirely different way then I have other books. It is, as much as I've encountered much like sitting down with someone and having a conversation. It feels intimate, as he speaks about sections of his life, his inspirations and hardships. In one smaller passage he talks about copying the words out of a comic, and using his own descriptions in some places to form his first story.

While one of the stories before had left my jaw slackened, this did for a far different reason - he was, for all intensive purposes tracing. Something that, really fits in my mind as a sometimes needed step for many young and budding artists.

The book really sets at ease a lot of my internal issues or questions about the makeup of actual authors, and while I may not be interested in his horror novels, or thrillers, I find myself still interested, very much willing to listen to the creation and thoughts of this person.

Hopefully I'll be able to stick with it.

Done

Well! And hello, everyone (??). Here we are. The time is almost ripe for picking out a new book, as I've finished Revolutionary Road. There was a bout of reading yesterday, and I trotted through the last hundred pages or so, very much riveted. Let's do a full (ish) review, shall we?

The first thing I have to say, is that I can't believe this book isn't recognized as more of a classic, that Richard Yates isn't required reading in school, and that this novel flies so much under the radar. It is absolutely superb. Prose-wise, it is one of the best novels I've ever read. Written in 1961 about the claustrophobic emptiness of suburban life in the early '50s, Revolutionary Road still manages to have a modern presence and urgency in it, more than fourty years after it's publication. If I had read it without knowing when it was written, and was pushed to guess, I'd say sometime in the mid-2000's.

It has remarkable subtlety, and precision in all it's narrative. Very vivid, very imaginable, and recollects reality in an almost painfully relatable way. I love this quote from the back flap, from The Boston Globe, commenting on Richard Yates: "Soft-spoken in his prose and terrifyingly accurate in his dialogue, Yates renders his characters with such authenticity that you hardly realize what he's done."

And more than that, in my opinion, he renders an entire world so recognizable as one we know, one we're equally as able as the characters to become entangled in, that 'terrifying', 'troubling', and 'masterpiece' are as close to the perfect description of Revolutionary Road as I can get.

-

Next on the list may be something in the lighter-hearted genre, or, alternately, something a bit more action-packed. Possibly The Taking by Dean Koontz. We shall see, I'll let you know when I decide:D

-s5g


P.S. If so inclined, I urge you to read some of the review for RR on Amazon (they do it much better justice than my quick little worship-fest). But beware of spoilers.

Reading - and beguilement

I estimate there are many ways of reading or digesting a book.

It is a difficult road for me to get into the devouring of literature - of which I hope to some day be able to do. Currently, it is a rare occurrence that I am able to read more then a single chapter in a sitting before I feel it is time to take a break. While, during those uncommon moments I have found myself able to run through several in a row and still have desire to continue - but for the nagging feeling that it might be wasteful.

I suppose I am the voice of the other side of the spectrum, which is probably what makes for a good informative blog or reading experience as a whole. I don't believe I in anyway see more from a specific book then anyone else, though, right now it is just something of which I have to deal with, until it either refines into a purer form, or goes away completely.

I find I have the desire to finish the books I have, and yet, at the same time I don't want to see them end. It is as if I've never read a book before in my life, which is hardly the case, but I suppose like most things, this bicycle, though still going forward, is a wobbly unwieldy beast that can hardly keep a straight line.

I'm almost afraid to finish Anne of Green Gables, because I like this story about the little girl, and I know that she is not a little girl forever - nor do I have much real desire to read others interpretations of Anne - much like I'd not desire to read Sherlock Holmes written by anyone but the original creator - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

So, single digestible chapters are gobbled up, one after the next, and rather, mournfully at times. It'll be nice to move onto the next book, and fall in love again with some other text. Until then, it is the baby steps that will hopefully lead me to an eventual end - which is more the path toward some new Amazing super literate quest.

Spring Distractions

So! Well, this has taken absolutely ages to post, and watch, it's going to have barely any content. I'm afraid, and this is not a reflection on my current book, that I have not been reading lately as much as I would like to be. And without good reason! I've been pleasantly idling my time away, and the sun is coming out and the weather is getting warmer, and I've been doing things online and and... poor Revolutionary Road, sitting there half-read.

Page Count: 146 of approx. 355

Things I'm Enjoying: The writing style is SUPERB. I mean, really, Mr. Yates evokes a clear, but subtle, emotional transition through out his chapters that carries the story gently, stunningly, along. Every instance is precise and sharp, and trudges up such life-like aesthetics, that it is almost painful when you can see how all these character's good intentions are going to go horribly wrong. It's fantastic, but painful, which leads me to....

Why's It Taking So Long?: Because it is a beautiful, but worrying book. It's hard to throw yourself into a world which you want so badly to work out, but one which, I don't really think, will.

Would You Recommend it to Others?: I almost typed 'otters' there. Whoops!;P Well, yes, I WOULD recommend it to all literate otters out there reading this (and I know we have quite a few fans!). And YES, thus far, I would absolutely recommend it to others. It is superb.

I will get further along in it soon, and post more opinions and such. I'd love to see something from someone else up here, too! We must keep this darling blog alive.

-s5g