![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Pre-September Book Catchup
In the interests of getting my booklist up to date, everything pre-September is below, with notes as-is. 'ware incomplete thoughts and cryptic notes.
A reread of The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right (Atul Gawande) (2009) which has become indirectly relevant to my professional interests.
Peter Pan (or, Peter and Wendy) (J. M. Barrie) (1911):: Foray into Gutenberg as part of smartphone-as-ereader testing. Meh. This is a story which is a narrow, crisp window on a moment in a particular island nation's history; it does not transcend the constraints of the very dated writing to speak to the wider human condition.
Seven Years in Tibet (Heinrich Harrer) (1953, with new 1996 intro material): Mountaineer on Himalayan expedition is caught in India during the outbreak of WW2 hostilities, escapes from detention multiple times until it sticks in '44, stays in Tibet until fleeing ahead of the Chinese invasion of '50-'51.
And it is charming, in this colonialist "white guy out on a limb" way:
Finally finished Les Miserables (Victor Hugo) (1863) in June. No one warned me Les Amis could move into Occupy or the less outrageously unaffordable parts of the Bay area without missing a beat. I will refrain from excessive commentary sharing my feelings on Hugo's feelings, but wow, Hugo has a lot of strong emotion tied up in the inevitable forward progress of humanity. He also has a lot to say about the inequalities of the present day. And the one fuels the other, in a happy-for-fans spiral of narration and digression.
Finished a fast skim of The Amber Spyglass (Philip Pullman) (2000). I like Pullman's writing best when he's making up and exploring new places and people; Amber Spyglass has too many people, places, themes, plots, and a few Better Ideas piled all on top of each other and can't really support the weight.
In anticipation of the new Baz Luhrmann film, I revisited The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) (1925). My appreciation for its literary tricks has increased with age, proportional to disinterested neutrality elevating to loathing of every. Single. Character. There may be an interpretation of Nick Carraway that isn't "go and do something with your life, kid", but until it's propounded to me, it's tough to imagine which characters I'd invite to a dinner party. (Guests ought to be interesting; nice may be optional. I would pay money for some configurations of interesting-not-nice character dinner parties.)
A reread of The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right (Atul Gawande) (2009) which has become indirectly relevant to my professional interests.
Peter Pan (or, Peter and Wendy) (J. M. Barrie) (1911):: Foray into Gutenberg as part of smartphone-as-ereader testing. Meh. This is a story which is a narrow, crisp window on a moment in a particular island nation's history; it does not transcend the constraints of the very dated writing to speak to the wider human condition.
Seven Years in Tibet (Heinrich Harrer) (1953, with new 1996 intro material): Mountaineer on Himalayan expedition is caught in India during the outbreak of WW2 hostilities, escapes from detention multiple times until it sticks in '44, stays in Tibet until fleeing ahead of the Chinese invasion of '50-'51.
And it is charming, in this colonialist "white guy out on a limb" way:
Common dangers and struggles had linked us in a close bond of companionship; each knew the others' virtues and failings, and so we were able to help one another in times of depression. -p50, "Into Tibet"
My roof, like all others, had a tree for prayer flags in every corner. I fixed an aerial of my radio onto one of those. Every house has a stove for incense and other luck-bringing appurtenances, and I used to take particular care that everything was kept in good order and no national customs infringed or neglected. -p243 "Commissions from the Government"
People quoted utterances of the oracle and pointed to various natural phenomena that seemed to confirm their fears... I, too, felt anxious, but my anxiety was based on a sober estimate of the situation. -p246 "Commissions from the Government"
Finally finished Les Miserables (Victor Hugo) (1863) in June. No one warned me Les Amis could move into Occupy or the less outrageously unaffordable parts of the Bay area without missing a beat. I will refrain from excessive commentary sharing my feelings on Hugo's feelings, but wow, Hugo has a lot of strong emotion tied up in the inevitable forward progress of humanity. He also has a lot to say about the inequalities of the present day. And the one fuels the other, in a happy-for-fans spiral of narration and digression.
Finished a fast skim of The Amber Spyglass (Philip Pullman) (2000). I like Pullman's writing best when he's making up and exploring new places and people; Amber Spyglass has too many people, places, themes, plots, and a few Better Ideas piled all on top of each other and can't really support the weight.
In anticipation of the new Baz Luhrmann film, I revisited The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) (1925). My appreciation for its literary tricks has increased with age, proportional to disinterested neutrality elevating to loathing of every. Single. Character. There may be an interpretation of Nick Carraway that isn't "go and do something with your life, kid", but until it's propounded to me, it's tough to imagine which characters I'd invite to a dinner party. (Guests ought to be interesting; nice may be optional. I would pay money for some configurations of interesting-not-nice character dinner parties.)
no subject
Awwwww, I remember really liking Peter Pan as a kid, but thinking about it I can see that not translating to being a book that is a good grownup book.
I really like Great Gatsby, although I see what you mean about the characters. For that book, somehow it doesn't bother me that I dislike the characters? (Most books it really really does... but every so often there's one where I like the book and dislike the characters.)
no subject
Okay, maybe directly relevant. The temptation to gift a copy to my boss is tempered by the awareness he is probably chasing too many moving targets to read it.
Gatsby may grow on me with age, if I get less concerned with liking characters and more concerned with craft. Or I may split into a bimodal distribution of appreciation and loathing.