Thoughts on Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal

So it shall be read, and so it shall be written.  I just finished Christopher Moore's "Lamb".  It was glorious, divine, and strangely erotic ;) It may sound like this book is just one big heresy waiting to happen, but it wasn't.  It was well-poised and philosophical and in no way demeaning to faith. 

Our story starts in Heaven.  Biff, Jesus (or as he is known in the book, Joshua)'s best friend from ye olde days of the bible is brought back to life to write the "true" story of Christ.  Biff is stranded on earth with his dumb angel Bodyguard, Raziel to write his gospel. And so Biff, the inventor of sarcasm and the original propagator of the prolific joke "so... two Jews walk into a bar...", starts off on Josh's childhood adventure. 

What is gained by this gospel?  It portrays Joshua as a unique, sometimes doubtful and always inquisitive young man.  Biff is the cynic (and wildly sexually promiscuous) and Josh is forever the believer (and perpetually celibate).  Yet the two harmoniously tackle magicians, emotional attachment to yeti, meditation and the study of both Yoga and Buddhism (not at the same time...).  Simultaneously, you are laughing, learning and eventually (and inevitably) cringing at Joshua's final death and rebirth. 

Honestly, I needed a good laugh, and this book is laugh-out-loud funny.  The Bible has always been portrayed to me as this weighty tome whose language and subject matter is almost impenetrable.  "Lamb" was quite the contrary.  It was completely accessible and, as I mentioned before, tread the thin line between disrespect and worship with ease. 

Oh yeah, and Joshua says Fuck a lot.  Awesome.  And eats Bacon.  Also awesome.

If you're not a big reader, but want to pick up something you know that you will enjoy and finish, I thoroughly recommend this book.  It is engaging and altogether a hilarious, saucy little caprice that will knock your socks off.  9 stars out of 10.

ET

Thoughts on: We So Seldom Look on Love by Barbara Gowdy

This weekend I had the pleasure of finishing a collection of short stories by Barbara Gowdy called "We So Seldom Look on Love". 

I've never read anything by Gowdy before, but I do remember buying this book.  It came highly recommended to me by a friend.   In university, I harboured a strange fascination (and obsession) with what I placed under the idea of the Carnivalesque (Bakhtin-style).  I watched Freaks often, at least once a month.  I read Geek Love by Katherine Dunn and thought it was a brillant masterpiece of real human drama.  I was obsessed with Rabelais and did all kinds of weird research on side shows and travelling circuses.   Weird, I guess, but also completely fascinating.  This book tickled the same spot that found all of that interesting. 

In "We So Seldom Look on Love", Gowdy explores, in a series of short stories, little pockets of freakishness.  Each story focuses on one character whose life is changed by some profound physical affectation.  Mothers with the skin of a lizard.  A Necrophiliac whose heart is broken by cadavers.  A man who kills his second head.  A woman who grew up with a second set of legs named Sue. Her prose is very normal, matter of fact.  By normal, I don't mean not that good, not that bad.  I mean, it's not extreme or lush or visceral.  It deliberately tells a commonplace story in the most plain language possible.  This lends itself well to stories about life in small town america, and the stories are told in a very human, poignant and expressive way.  Preconceptions about marriage, familial relationships, surgeries, and even sexual identities are calmly and precisely challenged. 

Altogether, I found the book uncomfortable in a pleasant way.  I have another Gowdy book in the collection and I'm looking forward to cracking it open some time down the road.  I have the feeling that settling into a Gowdy book will always feel like I'm patting myself on the back.

Thoughts on Scaramouche by Rafael Sabatini

Another one bites the dust, to quote a famous Queen song.  Another famous Queen lyric, "Scaramouche, Scaramouche, can you do the Fandango?".  Thus, a not so subtle segue into my most recent read, Rafael Sabatini's "Scaramouche" (1921).  Full of political intrigue, sword fights and sword-fighting politicians (isn't redundancy redundant?), "Scaramouche" was an interesting period piece and had one of the best opening lines I have ever read: "He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad".  

It was a rollicking journey that began in the French countryside at the beginning of the French Revolution.  In walks our not so heroic hero, Andre-Louis Moreau.  He is the most unlikeable, cowardly, hypocritical and yet oddly intriguing protagonist I've had the pleasure to go on an adventure with.  After the murder of his best friend at the hands of a protector of the Privileged (M. de la Tour d'Azur), Moreau goes on a rampage, inciting revolutionary riots and causing general menace.  Eventually, he settles in with an acting troupe and on goes his journey of revenge.  There is a GREAT ending, and a solid romance that subtly intertwines itself with Moreau's more human qualities. 

Recently, I finished helping a friend produce a piece of theatre that included segments from Commedia dell'arte charactures so the Theatre scenes were really thrilling for me.  For those unfamiliar, this is a form of Italian Improv that surrounds the use of character masks.  Each mask denotes (and the characters have evolved and changed over time) a certain personality, name and set of characteristics.  Take for example, Dotorei, the bumbling Doctor who is brilliant, loves science and often misses the point.  Or Arrlechino, the harlot who ends up getting the better of everyone with her shenanigans.  Scaramouche is one such character, and Andre-Louis Moreau's character is defined by Scaramouche's characteristics.  Not only does he play Scaramouche on the stage, but he lives his life with the sardonic wit, devious plotting and the ability to get out of any sticky situation.  Endlessly adaptable, the character of Scaramouche gives a new dimension and narrative frame to the book.  A character within a character. 

Also, did I mention the sword-fighting?  and the Frenchness (although Sabatini was born in Italy and raised in England I believe)?  I ended up putting on "Fan Fan la Tulipe| and making lentil salad just to capture the mood.  Le sigh.

Oh, and there is a great movie adaptation, if you like that kind of thing.  Which I do.

Thanks for reading.  I'm sure to read another book soon so keep checking back.  Ta for now.

Thoughts on: The Human Stain by Philip Roth

This morning as I slowly came to life, I finished reading "The Human Stain" by prolific American writer Philip Roth.

I've never read anything by Roth before, but I must say that reading this book was a wholly delightful experience.  Every word, scene and character is hand crafted in such a way that you are pulled into the far-reaching narrative as soon as the light turns green.  The result is a multi-faceted, sharp and profound plot that focuses on a cast of players that are as real and human as a next-door neighbour. 

The story begins with Coleman Silk, the Dean of Athena University.  His life has slowly been falling apart.  First, he is forced to resign from teaching under suspicion of racism.  During roll call of one of his classes, he comes across the same two students who never attend the class.  So he calls out "Does anyone know these people?  Do they exist or are they spooks?".  It turns out the two students whom were always absent were African Americans, and when they heard the comment, took it to be an archaic racial slur and mounted an offensive against him.  Slowly he is pushed from the university, the tides change, his wife dies from a stroke and all that rage and loneliness wells up inside of Coleman Silk.  He begins writing a book called Spooks, in the belief that it will prove that the university killed his wife.

In comes our narrator, Nathan Zuckerman.  He is a neighbour of Coleman who comes into his life abruptly one day, raving about the book, the murder of his wife and asking Zuckerman to help him with the writing.  Slowly Zuckerman befriends Coleman and in so doing discovers both the great person and the great secrets that have surrounded his life.  What ensues is a historical, lively and character-focused account of not only Silk's life, but those that came in contact with him by blood or bond.

Coleman is a compelling character, as is Zuckerman but Roth does not stop there.  Whether you are reading about Les Farley (PTSD afflicted Vietnam War Veteran, angry, failed dairy farmer and incredibly courageous and self-searching) or Delphine Roux (Parisian born, beautiful, petite and highly intellectual Athena professor who both hates and strangely loves Coleman Silk despite her better judgement), Roth brings each sliver of each person to life through his unique writing style.  You aren't just reading an overarching narrative when you read this book.  You slip into their minds, from character to character, until each slice of life, each painstakingly simple scene has fully come to realization. 

I loved it, beginning to end.  That being said, it was DENSE and took me a long time.  Never once did I feel that I was slogging, instead, I felt as if I was savouring.  On the addition of the book that I read, the front cover has a quote that reads "In American literature today, there's Philip Roth, and then there's everybody else" - Chicago Tribune.  Huge words, and I'm not well read enough to in any way ratify the statement.  However, it was an awesome (in the actual sense of the word) piece of literature, and one that will continue to develop in my mind for years to come.

Thoughts on: Beatrice & Virgil by Yann Martel

I have finished, and had time to mull over, my most recent conquest: Beatrice & Virgil by Yann Martel. 

I originally picked up the book because I loved Life of Pi.  I read it for the first time when still in High school, which feels like eons ago.  It is one of the few books I read several (more than twice, less than twenty) times.  Sometimes when I feel like I'm going to go nuts, I like to read it in the bathtub.  Martel's tone matches the feeling of floating in water and it is altogether a spiritual experience. 

While I did not find Beatrice & Virgil as physically affecting, it was imaginative, expressive and touching.  There are 2 main characters, both named Henry.  Henry no. 1 is an author who is a very thinly veiled copy of Yann Martel himself.  He responds to a request for help from Henry no. 2 who is writing a dramatic, allegorical piece called Beatrice and Virgil. In the play, Beatrice is a donkey and Virgil is a Howler Monkey (and yes, they are a reference to The Divine Comedy).  And so, the scene is set for a story, full of self-realization and philosophical rambling.  I won't ruin it, but there is quite a twist at the end.  I should have seen it coming, but I missed the signs.  Looking back, they're definitely there.  Read closely.

Yann is a master of dialogue.  There are two levels of dialogue in the book.  The first is the dialogue between the two Henrys.  They don't really like each other, but they seem to feed off one another as creators.  There is also the dialogue between Beatrice and Virgil.  As their story is written as a play, their entire characters are created by dialogue.  Beckett and Diderot are cited as being similar the play: no action, lots of talking.  These two have an almost Rosencrantz and Guildenstern feel to them.  Beatrice and Virgil also exist outside the book, in the as taxidermy animals in Henry no. 2's shop.  The howler monkey sits on the donkey's back, just like in the play.  It's a taxidermy shop so they've been stuffed and posed.  As Henry no. 1 puts it, the shop is "a room full of adjectives, like a Victorian novel".  Add to that a miscellany of other exotic animals placed in realistic poses in perfectly recreated and dimly lit scenes of their natural habitat.  Spooky, and kind of unnerving in my eyes.

The story slowly peels back the onion of a story that is Beatrice and Virgil, mostly narrated by the old, somber and very eccentric Henry no. 2.   Overall, I thought the book was a very easy read that leaps between bizarre situations, stitching them seamlessly together through a pastiche of rhyme and reason.  It is an elegant, and at the same time oddly awkward story, probably because it is so personal in nature. 

Spoiler Alert (not really, but some people don't like to know things that happen late in the book...):  There was one oddly visceral and moving scene was one that will stick in my mind for a long time.  Throughout the story, Henry no. 1 grows close to his two animals, whom he and his wife adopt when the move to the new City at the beginning of the book.  There is a cat named Mendelssohn and a dog named Erasmus.  You get to know Erasmus a little better, because Henry no. 1 uses walking the dog as an excuse to head over to Henry no. 2's bizarre little taxidermy shop to work on the play.  Anyway, they die, suddenly and gruesomely.  Henry no. 1 has to put them down.  Erasmus gets rabies and mauls Mendelssohn, breaking his back and puncturing his back legs.  Both of them have to go.  I was flitting through the book, wondering where all this monkey description and looking for food was going and then BAM!  It made my stomach drop.  The next few pages seemed hollow.  I had to take a break.  It seems to stick out a little bit from the rest of the story, like a spider bite on a child's calf.  Don't get me wrong, it completely fits in the book.  Henry no. 2 at one point says, when explaining taxidermy, "Life and death live and die in exactly the same spot, the body.  It is from there that both babies and cancer are born.  To ignore death, then, is to ignore life".   This scene fits at the crossroads of several themes of the book.  It just caught me off guard.  I felt really bad for those little guys, much worse than I did for the characters affected in the book.

Those are pretty much my thoughts.  Beatrice and Virgil is short, sweet and has an interesting twist.  It is well worth the read and deals with some pretty heavy issues in through a looking-glass that makes them much easier to swallow. It left me with a good taste in my mouth, but I kept on asking myself if I'd seen this trick before.  Yes, I have.  Yann Martel isn't really showing off anything new.  But if the wheel ain't broken, why fix it, right?

Ta for now,

ET out

Nutty

My apologies in the delay between posts.  Illness, unfortunately, cannot be helped.

Last night, I had the chance to get to about the half way point in the library.  At 196 books, I've read 33, pulled out 1 book our of complete non interest, and have 162 (at HALF WAY) to read or complete reading.  However, I remain optimistic.  The cataloging of Romance Novels is upcoming, of which I've read every one I've ever bought.  Not that it lessens the weighty number that is already facing me.

In the meantime, here is a delicious little piece of naughtiness that has been a fast friend of mine for many years.  Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie are always great for a laugh.







I've also been addicted to the Boondocks lately.  I hope with all my heart that one day when I have kids of my own or usurp those born of another womb, that they have the intelligence of these kids.  What a brilliant animated series. 

ET Out

The Beginnings of a Library

So I've cataloged 115 books so far and am done half of one room that holds books.  Oh me oh my.  It's slow going, but that may be the fault of red wine and Sunday afternoon.  You can check out what I've catalogued so far by going to Emily's Library Page.  It has a (very inexpert and missing information) chart of my library.  I will do more research into making it a little more readable/ accurate. 

115 Books cataloged
25 Books read

When I say READ, I mean read beginning to end.  I have read excerpts of, or even most of, some of these books.  For example, I read Paradise Lost, but not Paradise Regained.  When I come along those guys, I'm going to give myself a leg up and not re-read the part I've already read. 

I should also make a slight note.  I do live with another bookaholic.  His tastes are somewhat different from mine from time to time.  For example, he owns books on Level Design for Video Games.  When I catalog these books, I'm going to put a big old N/A in the "Emily Has Read" Column.  As much as I value learning things in all walks of life, I think the chances of me making it all the way through a book on Maya (Some sort of Video Game Code, or scripting system or something) is not high.  I really don't see this as much of a cop out.

Ok, Ta for now.

ET Out

The Chase

Hello, and welcome to the beginning of a new blog. 

Like so many others, the birth of this blog was conceptualized for wholly selfish reasons.  I publicize my exploits in the hopes of actually completing the project that I am proposing.  To be honest, right now the task seem daunting, overwhelming and fantastically time-consuming.  Nevertheless, in order to prove to myself that I am not a time-wasting ninny and a complete braggart, here goes.

I have a problem, an addiction.  Every time I walk past a bookstore, I must enter.  I must browse for hours among the long forgotten stacks of books and I must purchase something that tickles my fancy.  I think to myself, "how clever I am, having found a copy of Umberto Eco's Serendipities" or "I didn't know that Katherine Dunn wrote a book other than Geek Love.  I can't let that go".  I swiftly purchase my find and, gently cradling my new friend, I wander back to my hovel where I promptly read thirty pages or so, get distracted and forget that I ever had any intention of doing nothing this afternoon but drinking tea and reading an entire novel.

And so, my little discoveries have amalgamated into a half-read-book-lined shoebox... ahem... apartment. I think myself in somewhat an intellectual vein.  I think before I think... or something like that.  But, I haven't read even a fraction of things that I have the intention of reading (and have committed time and money into possessing). 

And So, To The Chase: To catalog my entire library, make a list of all of the books I have not read from cover to cover, and READ THEM ALL. 

I thought about adding a clause here saying that I couldn't buy any more until I was done... but I think that I will just keep that habit to a discerning minimum.  What can I say, a vice is a vice and there are worse ones out there methinks.  

Along the way, I think I'll find some real gems and some real stinkers.  I will write my completely biased (and often foul mouthed) opinion of each book as I finish it, hopefully to someone's amusement. In the meantime, I must get to cataloging. 

Ta for now, ET