The Book of Illusions

Another Auster...I know.  What am I, obsessed?  Actually no.  The man is a bookstore whore I tell you (both old and new, he doesn't discriminate).

The Book of Illusions is brief.  I finished this baby in two days, both because it is rather short (only 9 chapters I think), but also because it is so gripping that it's hard to wrestle yourself away.  The writing and plot are very contemporary, and it was refreshing to read something like that after so many classics I've dragged myself through thanks to this giant list of British-favoring titles.

It's a romance, through and through, but curiously I was never able to fall in love with the love interest Alma.  It might be because I'm shallow, and she's ugly, but I was never able to openly accept her as a trustworthy character.  She's very independent...and that might be it...but I also felt like she was intruding (or rather, crashing) into David's life and I was uncomfortable with that.  Of course, I'm not the one in love with her, so naturally I wouldn't understand.

Auster must be a lover of films.  All of the moments in the book where David is describing Mann's movies were a more than uncanny representation of many film reference titles I used while I took a ludicrous number of film classes in college.  He also does a fantastic job of creating faux black-and-white films from scratch, to a seriously meticulously believable degree.  It often happened that when I read those real-life critiques and analyses on film, the words on the page described the pictures and plot in such a lovely way that they were in fact much more powerful and captivating than the real thing.  I got the same sense reading David's narration of the fictional films he was watching.

I did get a sense of the familiar being-overwhelmed-from-the-excess-of-misfortune residual from The Jungle, but here, I accept it as a fitting over-the-top drama genre.  Besides, there is so much fancy writing/film things being done here like symbolism and foreshadowing and allusions that I'm too distracted with feelings of like.

Also, those "little people" seem like they are pure evil.  That feels offensive to say.

The Jungle

For all the dislike I have of Chicago, I must say that at least I wasn't here in the early 1900s.  Compared to that, I'm living the life of a queen.  Jurgis Rudkus' life is, plainly stated, shit.  I would have gone mad and killed myself long ago in his situation, which I must admit, I wish he had done so that the book would have stopped much sooner.  But while we're on the topic of dislike -- I'm just going to come out and say it -- I have no desire to read any more Sinclair ever again.

I don't even know how to organize my thoughts, so I will keep it brief.  Here is a list of rants in order of my beef (hardy har har) with them:

1.  What is the point of the last two chapters!?  I am aware, thanks to the notes at the end of the book, that the audience for this story was Socialists.  But for the sake of modern times, all of the goddamn speeches should have been cut.  Jesus, the only thing I could think the whole time was that I could not wait for it to end.  It stopped even being about Jurgis at all, since he didn't even speak for almost the entire part of the last 50 pages or more.

2.  When the book was revolving around Jurgis, it was ludicrous.  Okay, I understand times were tough and people keeled over and died all the time and were dirty and poor etc etc but each chapter LITERALLY ended with a new dramatic calamity that befell the main character.  Out of a job?  One up that, all your money is taken.  Oh, your house got foreclosed?  Welp, now your wife is dead.  At least you still have that ray of sunshine in your life that's your son.  Oh wait, now he's randomly dead too even though he was super healthy two pages ago.

3.  There is absolutely no humanizing any of the women.  Sure, Jurgis loved Ona but she was a flat character who was an idiot.  Elzbieta and Marija seemed so strong and had so much potential but instead, they ended up just being little puppet vessels for the sake of Jurgis who became incredibly dull as soon as he left his family.  And then once Jurgis does come crawling back after betraying them, they take him in without any questions because they are so wonderful and kind.  What the heck.  Feminism!

4.  Prior to starting this book I kept hearing how great it was.  All of these comments came from men, naturally, and I can see why they may say that because it's all rough around the edges and masculine and all about hard work and all that.  Honestly, I don't need beautiful images and emotion and puppies and marshmallows if the content is good, and I truly sincerely would appreciate a story about someone working through hardship and trying their best.  But I cannot handle this book.  It is just too much whining and self loathing, and nothing is even resolved in the end.

At least this book taught me why there are so many Lithuanians in Chicago (yes, I have lived here for over 5 years and do not know any history about the city).  It also taught me that Lakeshore Drive was lined with mansions, which seems obvious, but it's nice to see that all of those old buildings over there that I used to drive by on the bus daily actually are historical.  Guess that much really hasn't changed.  Well, you know, class and society-wise...not people-melting-in-lard-vats-and-getting-eaten-alive-by-rats-at-work-wise.

Waterland

#265. Waterland by Graham Swift (no, not the Kevin Costner movie that you're thinking of).

I like this book because it doesn't end happily in the mainstream fashion that is so frequent these days.  Or else, I guess that's the case in movies...but I suppose books tend to lend themselves to more sobering characters, which have depth and grey emotions. 
My point is -- if that is actually the case and I'm not just generalizing and being an idiot -- this book does a good job of being a book.  There is a fine balance of heaviness, humor, and brightness as there truly is when one looks back on their life, and I think Swift's ability to capture true human thoughts and emotions like childish love, doubt, regret, and curiosity is really apparent here.

The novel is laid out in a nice way, through the stories of a history teacher narrating his "history" to his students.  What a lovely concept, when you consider it.  I wish I could have that kind of experience - it's a rare thing to really hear about and understand someone's past (at least for me), especially when you weren't a part of it, and when it happens, it's something quite magical.

Tom Crick's story is sincere, and really truthful in the sense that life is full of impulses, heartache, confusion, and the sense that we are all trapped in the past.  I have a love affair with the topic of memories, so of course, this hits me right where I am vulnerable, but aside from that, I think there is really something that makes you think here.

One thing that I thought was a little bit weak, was Ernest Atkinson's reasoning for putting those 12 bottles of beer into the chest for Dick (also, the significance of the name Richard).  Ernest referred to them "for emergencies" but what the hell kind of emergency is he really envisioning potent beer to be useful for?  Come on, be a little bit more useful to your son that you forced your daughter to have.  Perhaps it was just a random out for Swift to exemplify Ernest's insanity as well as being able to use it as a way for the ultimate destruction of Dick in order to come full circle, but there must have been much better ways to tie things up.

There is no happy ending to real life because it just keeps going, and I think that's something that Waterland makes you consider.  I guess all anyone can do is to live until you die and to do your best.  I'll be on the road again on the way to some more interviews next week.  Wish me luck!