The Corrections

It was refreshing to read a modern book after so many older ones, but man does Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections remind you of the intolerability of every human being. Just as you start to like a character, you realize they're a terrible person.  And you know what?  That's the absolute truth of everyone on this earth—even the ones we love the most.  It's just that in real life you don't have access to their selfish and irrational thoughts and emotions so you just don't realize how awful they really are.

Gary, Caroline (really, I hated Caroline the most. So childish) and Enid's self-centeredness are infuriating. Denise and Chip's somewhat-relatable emotionally driven-priorities cause self-reflection.  Alfred's mental condition is terrifying.  But the biggest surprise and softed part of the book for me, was the level of love that Alfred had for his children that was uncovered by his dementia. So powerful.

The Corrections was honest and entertaining, though often uncomfortable and heartbreaking. That's the nature of real family life though, which is what gives it so much strength.

A World of Love

I could tell I was going to forget the entire plot/experience of A World of Love by Elizabeth Bowen before I even finished the book. It's just 149 pages of 5 people resenting each other for their own  failures and misgivings, and I couldn't wait until it was over and I could throw it into my box of books I need to get rid of.

To me, dealing with this house full of women playing victim was cringe-worthy and with nothing else happening throughout the storyline, I didn't find anything especially worthy of this book for its place on the 1001 list. The only redeeming thing about the hours spent on the book is that the names Liliana and Antonia are very pretty (L.O.L). I honestly don't even know what else to say—I didn't get anything out of this this book.

Finally, the end was strange. I'm not sure what it's supposed to mean. The start of a romance amidst failed relationships? I don't know but it's kind of off-putting and tacky if that's what it is. Womp womp.

Lord of the Flies

People are the worst, but power-wielding men, don't get me started. Ugh.

I'd heard a lot about the general story of William Golding's Lord of the Flies, and for some reason thought it resulted in cannibalism.  At least that didn't happen.  If it were a bunch of women on the island as opposed to a bunch of cocky boys, I wonder how it would go. Inevitably, someone would want to be leader but I would hope there would be much less violence and more order.  After all, even "proper English boys" can't really be that well behaved compared to little ladies.

It's heartbreaking and quite shocking that the two best characters were killed, but I suppose that's reality. Smarts, reason and nobleness are currently being defeated by a tyrant in the real United States, after all.  Poor little Piggy with his broken glasses :(. Honestly, I thought Ralph was just as much an asshole as Jack in the beginning, taunting Piggy, but I guess he was reasonable enough to admit his friend's value and have some compassion.

I wish they would just leave Jack on that island to die but surely that doesn't happen. Children get away with everything.

Also, as an aside, where the hell was this plane full of just kids going?

Surfacing

Third Atwood book down, one to go.

In chapter one, I kept tripping over the awkward sentence structure and wondered if I'd get used to it after a while.  By the end, that seems like a faded memory to me now, and I can't tell if I just got used to it, or if it was a device the author was using. If it was, that's genius.  But either way the experience is extremely fitting for this work.

Like a lot of Atwood's other books, Surfacing is deeply feminist. The main character is trapped in countless layers of...social conformity/gender identity? That doesn't seem quite right.  I'm not completely sure, but it builds and builds—quietly and sensitively at first, and then suddenly slamming down like a hammer in a terrifying way.  It's seriously jarring, and kept me very on edge.

It's a depiction of how dark life really is, man.  She's mad in the end, but she's one of the most relatable characters I've ever read, so easy to sympathize with and so mature and reliable, at least on the surface.  Her insanity doesn't come from her being ridiculous, if that makes any sense.  Her relationship with her parents reminded me of my own at times, like a big shadow, and it's unsettling how it loomed at the edge of my conscious throughout.

I had a used copy that had the most random excerpts underlined in spasmodic slashes, and it was seriously distracting and really annoying. At some point this lunatic was just underlining chapter numbers. Maybe the book drove them over the same edge as the heroine in this book.

Emma

Are you supposed to like Emma Woodhouse of Jane Austen's Emma? Because all I get is that she's a triflin' bitch. Sooo judgy and pompous whether she's aware of it or not. And somehow she's meant to come off better than the Eltons, who at one point Austen decides to switch from normal human beings into ridiculous bullies straight out of Mean Girls.

It's like I was reading a book for teenage girls, but written in a hoity-toity way that allowed it to pass off as a classic. And how do characters with actual class and intelligence (whether male or female) keep getting attracted to her? Knightly, Harriet, and Jane are all too good for this superficial meddler. But also seriously, how is her mentor/teacher who found her a brat when she was being raised all of a sudden going to be in love with her? Men are stupid and gross.

Anyway Austen's happy ending values money and status over anything else, and as the book closes, we're back to square one as far as partners go -- back to the way it all was before Emma stuck her nose into everything for the good of nobody.

David Copperfield

Having moved to another state, I haven't had internet since the beginning of June. I wrote this probably about a month ago and it's just been sitting in an open word doc waiting for when US Internet decided to finally get wired into my apartment building, but IT STILL HASN'T HAPPENED. I finally caved and just bought the public wifi that the city of Minneapolis just randomly has streaming in my neighborhood, but at this point I don't remember anything too much more detailed because I've since finished the new Ondaatje book Warlight, and am also now over halfway through Emma. Time flies, I tell you. Anyway, on to David Copperfield.

With Ciderhouse Rules fresh on my mind, David Copperfield came next before I even knew it. Because of the former, I knew this was a story about an orphan, but I didn’t expect it to contain so many of them. David, Emily, Traddles, Ham…

Surprisingly for an orphan tale, too, David’s story is a remarkably happy one. In the beginning (and honestly, probably even up to halfway through the book), I kept expecting the most unfortunate things to happen to the main character whenever such an opportunity presented itself, but he always had luck on his side and somehow came away unmarked. Even with having the misfortune of a stupid and naïve mother and a “cruel” step father and aunt in his youth, I still found it kind enough of them to pay for D.C’s lodgings and schooling, which is a lot more than many other literary characters found themselves having.

In as lengthy a format as this novel was, I find it hard to imagine it capturing the attention of the orphans in The Ciderhouse Rules. How long would it have taken Homer to finish a round of it? Would a child really be able to follow the narrative?

Regardless, I found it charming. And as Charles Dickens’ self-proclaimed favorite, I can get a sense of the author’s cheery fondness for D.C. guiding him through every adventure, much like the cast of Copperfield’s supporters, who I found to love just as much as if they were my own angels (Traddles had me from the moment he drew his first skeleton). Maybe Dickens even put a bit of himself in each of them. I hope so, anyway.

The Cider House Rules

I am sure that this movie was presented to me sometime in my youth, if not only for the certainty that when the state of Michigan started airing tourism commercials, I immediately recognized the graceful, sweeping piano and string melody that I associated to the words "Cider House Rules". I don't know why, but that song must have had a strong effect on me.

It's hard to imagine where I would have seen it - because I feel like it was in school - due to the strong sexual nature of literally every sentence presented in this book, and because I vaguely recall a sense of discomfort certain scenes could have given me but it is all presented with such taste and gentle understanding of human nature and the world itself that I suppose it couldn't ever have been obscene (I'm sure Hollywood would have toned it all down, anyway).

There is so much love packed into this book that it's hard not to be affected. Irving writes with such sensitivity of the human experience. Yes, we are flawed and life is riddled with disappointments, but above all, there is the tragedy and tenderness of love. Homer's decisions were often frustrating to me, in likely the same way I would have reacted had I actually known him and been able to interact with him. He is so surrounded by love, but he fails to see it in so many ways. I found myself to personally have Dr. Larch's interest at heart, and though it was so easy to be annoyed by Melony's dogged pursuit of Homer, their inability to tear themselves away from this person (which I'm sure could reflect any man out there) struck as something that was undoubtedly pure and real.

It's also an incredibly literary book - in its self awareness, and its attachment to other greats. I would like to read David Copperfield one day, if nothing more than to hear some of those lovely passages again as if to rake up sort of distant memory.  The short "catch phrases" of Irving's own creation are powerfully effective as well, and I found them so incredibly moving. Let us be happy for the Princes of Maine -- the Kings of New England. They will always have a family.