Read 50 books in 2007

32.
Stumbling on Happiness: Daniel Gilbert
Finished 3/01
Re-read
An extremely amusing book of psychology. Gilbert is quite witty and funny in addition to being skilled at explaining complicated things in simple ways. And his voice is not the only reason to read this. It explains why most people are so bad at judging what they a) did feel like in the past and b) will feel like in the future. It is utterly fascinating.

31.
How to Live on 24 Hours a Day: Arnold Bennett
Finished 2/27
Anrold Bennett is down on us folks who count how many books we read in a year. He makes sense in some areas, but it’s areas like that where he annoys me. I count how many books I read in a year because I’m hungry for them and I’d read that many anyway, but I also just happen to be kind of obsessive, so I enjoy counting them. Tough shit, Arnold! Get over it! lol

29.
My Secret: Frank Warren (and assorted)
Finished 2/24
These post cards are addictive, and I don’t think I will ever get tired of them. Frank Warren had a brilliant fucking idea with this.

30.
Psyche in a Dress: Francesca Lia Block
Finished 2/24
I love it because there are shining moments of glittery truth (glittery truth: something one doesn’t often find) poking through. I dislike it because that’s all they do—poke through. Francesca is descending into mythical Hallmark cards.

28.
A Streetcar Named Desire: Tennessee Williams
Finished 2/24
True to the form, I feel as though I’ve just watched a drama instead of reading it, and I’m just left with thoughts like “Mitch is an ass!” and “I can’t believe Stella stays with Stanley!”

25.
The Red Pony: John Steinbeck
Finished 2/23
Around the end, we get to speak to somebody who, unlike every other character in Steinbeck’s work, reached his goal. And he was worse for it for the rest of his life. His one goal done, nothing was really left. The journey ended too soon, in other words.

”Then we came down to the sea, and it was done.” He stopped and wiped his eyes until the rims were red. “That’s what I should be telling instead of stories.”

When Jody spoke, Grandfather started and looked down at him. “Maybe I could lead the people someday,” Jody said.

The old man smiled. “There’s no place to go. There’s the ocean to stop you. There’s a line of old men along the shore hating the ocean because it stopped them.”

This, and a scene where Billy Buck insists on keeping his promise to Jody with a rather sick insistence, makes me like this book so much better than either The Pearl or Of Mice and Men. This is beautiful.

26.
Abbe Mouret’s Transgression: Emile Zola
Finished 2/23
One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. I plan on reading the French original soon as well. I can’t even explain, so I’ll quote:

So he left her at the end of the garden, sitting in the sunlight on the ground before a hive, whence the bees buzzed like golden berries round her neck, along her bare arms and in her hair, without thought of stinging her.

-

‘I should like to be a child once more. I should like to be always a child, walking in the shadow of your gown. When I was quite little, I clasped my hands when I uttered the name of Mary. My cradle was white, my body was white, my every thought was white.

-

And I will rise to your mouth like a subtle flame

-

He loved God with a love that lifted him out of himself, out of all else, and wrapped him round with a dazzling radiance of glory. He was like a torch that burns away with blazing light. And death seemed to him to be only a great impulse of love.

27.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: James Joyce
Finished 2/23
Re-read
Joyce, aside from Dubliners, comes into my mind like a sparkling haze, a drug. The prose is intoxicating.

With a sudden movement she bowed his head and joined her lips to his and he read the meaning of her movements in her frank uplifted eyes. It was too much for him. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odour.

God, I would sell my limbs to write sentences like these people did. Anyway, I liked re-reading this while reading Abbe Mouret’s Transgression. Both focus quite a bit on the near-insanity inspired by the guilt some feel because of religion.

However, there are times when it becomes a bit difficult to see why he included certain passages. It feels sometimes as though he has tried to pour every drop of himself into his words; apparently he wanted to write reality, but I think he merely wanted to put down his for all of eternity, and it sometimes seems (in the middle of the bizillionth page of some explanation of some spiritual theory) an extremely selfish impulse. But in the midst of my annoyance, I’ll stumble upon another sentence like this:

His soul was all dewy wet.

24.
Ethan Frome: Edith Wharton
Finished 2/21
I didn’t have to push myself to keep through this book. The romantic aspect of it kept me going because I’m just a sucker like that, so the sad ending was kind of traumatic. Zeena, the bitter wife, was written fantastically—better than either of the star-crossed lovers, in fact. The romance was what kept it readable, whereas Zeena is what will make me remember it.

23.
Of Mice and Men: John Steinbeck
Finished 2/20
I am noticing a pattern in Steinbeck’s work. It goes like this: Life sucks, and you’ll never get what you want. Tough shit.

22.
Common Sense: Thomas Paine
Finished 2/19
Most of it is somewhat interesting in a historical context, but not necessarily enthralling. It wasn’t until I reached the appendix that I thought, “This is brilliant.” That’s when I saw his debating skill most clearly; he was refuting statements by some Quakers who had written about/to him, and I was sitting there thinking, “Those silly people! I can’t believe they would write such things!” even though I’m a few hundred years too late for my opinion to matter.

I took notes on his debating skills for future reference.

21.
Daisy Miller: Henry James
Finished 2/11
As of right now, I’m only able to appreciate this in theory. I didn’t enjoy it, and I thought the tragic ending was much too sudden and senseless. It’s symbolic and all that good stuff, but I just didn’t get into it. This surprises me since I’m also reading The Portrait of a Lady right now, and it’s great.

20.
The Communist Manifesto: Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels
Finished 2/10
I’m quite fond of the revolutionary statements here just because I have a fondness for revolutionaries in general. The writing, while mostly hard to plod through, is in some places brilliant.

Like here:
You are horrified at our intending to do away with private property. But in your existing society, private property is already done away with for nine-tenths of the population; its existence for the few is solely due to its non-existence in the hands of those nine-tenths… In one word, you reproach us with intending to do away with your property. Precisely so; that is just what we intend.

Or here:
Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communistic revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win.

However, being aware of Karl Marx’s life makes me very skeptical of everything here. It’s hard to respect the “everybody should get what they need” philosophy of a man who spent most of his life being paid for by his best pal, Engels. It also bothers me that he sees economics as the only driving force of history which, while an interesting theory (and also mirrored in such modern books as “The Trouble With Diversity” by Walter Benn Michaels), has the cruel tendency to leave individuals and their feelings in dust. It is proposing the tearing down of one sprawling, slavery-inducing system for the setting up of another sort. Bleh.

I suppose my favorite thing about The Communist Manifesto is that it forces my thoughts in fascinating directions and illuminates new ideas to me even (especially) when I disagree with the authors.