Greetings, readers! Hope you all enjoyed your holidays and are staying toasty warm; I'm still trying to come to grips with the fact that it's as cold in London as it is here in Gainesville. Brrrrr!
Anyway, this post is cause for celebration: I fulfilled my new year's resolution of writing a blog! *Insert sounds of joyous delight* Alas, I made it only halfway through Les Mis, though I discovered many other great books along the way. For those of you who may be worrying this is the end, fear not: I have decided to continue the blog, and I'm looking forward to sharing all of 2014's good reads with you.
This Christmas marked an important milestone in my shelf life: my parents gave me a Kindle for the holiday!! Some of you may know my, ahem, colorful anti-Kindle history--at my most extreme, I composed a St. Crispin's Day-worthy speech to convince my friend Jason not to buy one of his own--but I have been converted and am now happily reading books on a screen which is more like a book than I expected. The Paperwhite has lots of great features, like a hypertextual dictionary (you hold your finger on a word and release to find the definition) and X-Ray, which allows you to track characters' appearances throughout the book. It comes in handy when reading the mammoth Game of Thrones series (who has time to memorize the minor vassals of House Tully, anyway?)
Currently, I am reading The Emperor of All Maladies (a biography of cancer), The Disappearing Spoon (a tour of the periodic table you think you learned about in chemistry class but actually didn't), and The Wilder Life (a memoir of the author's own relationship with the Little House on the Prairie series, from childhood on up.) I'm also reviewing a book about a student's journey through the Amazon rain forest for my school's Common Reading Program--more details on that to follow.
A lot of nonfiction, I know--maybe you guys can help me out and recommend some good stories for when my brain needs a break from reading about experimental leukemia treatments of the 1940's?
My classes this semester will include a lot of reading, as usual, this time from sources as diverse as the Romantic poets, the internet, and Franz Kafka. It's going to be a doozy, but I think I'll have fun.
That's all I have time for now; take it easy, and enjoy Florida's own version of an Arctic winter!
Until next time,
Anna
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
War & Peace, Whale Hunting, and Other Endurance Sports
Greetings, fellow readers! I am back after a brief hiatus from life: those of you who read my blog regularly will remember that I last wrote while ill with a sore throat. Apparently, I had some kind of chest cold virus which not only made it difficult to breathe, but also spread to my eyes, rendering them swollen, red, and alas, unable to read. This germ knocked me out of commission for about five days; today is my first full day back in the land of the living. I wish I could say my illness represented some kind of literary journey to the underworld and back, or that my temporary eye trouble drew my attention to my own metaphorical blindness; however, my life is not a book, so my sickness lacks any poetic significance.
As fellow book-lovers, I'm sure you've all thought about what reading you'd do if you were ill, not so ill as to be in any real danger, but ill enough that you'd have to stay in bed for an extended period of time. I once read a customer review on Audible written by a woman who was prescribed bed rest after having surgery. She chose to utilize her time by reading War and Peace as an audio book, though I can't help but wonder whether it was a good idea for her to mix Tolstoy with Percocet--from what I've heard of his writing, it demands full lucidity.
Anyway, it got me thinking about those books we approach as textual Mount Everests, the extreme sports of the literary arena. There are the classic tomes that everyone talks about but few have read, such as Moby Dick and War and Peace, but there are other, slimmer volumes which look deceptively simple, yet are about as tricky as navigating through quicksand in the Fire Swamp. I came across a list of "50 Incredibly Tough Books for Extreme Readers" and was surprised to learn that I had read more than I thought. Four out of fifty is not bad; others of these are on my "To Read" list. I'll post some short blurbs of the books I have read, then copy the link below so you can see how many you've read.
First is To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. I tried reading this book on my own and gave up halfway through, but returned to it as required reading for my Science and Literature class last spring. I ended up reading it multiple times for our class discussion; it's definitely a book which rewards re-reading. With this one, I found it helped to talk through the text in class. It made it much easier to keep track of the stream of consciousness narration, and reading the book in an academic setting allowed us to analyze the themes in more depth than I would have done on my own.
Conclusion: unless you have a Mrs. Ramsay to guide your vision, you won't make it to the lighthouse with James and Cam.
Next is Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. I know of only two other people who have read this book, which may surprise you when you see how short it is. This one is tough not in the sense that it is difficult to read, but in that it's a highly disturbing story. This book has haunted me ever since I read it as a junior in high school. My history professor mentioned it casually in class, and I thought it would be easy to get through in an afternoon. I was wrong--I am still working through this book and thinking about the weighty questions of war, ethics, and suicide it poses.
Conclusion: getting through it is not hard, but unless you have some way to communicate your experience of reading this book, you may be trapped in the same despair as the main character.
Then there's Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I know a lot of people who dislike this book. I love it, and, ironically, didn't find it difficult to read. It's a critique of imperialism written as densely as the jungles of Belgium's African colonies and a classic modernist text that inspired the 1979 movie "Apocalypse Now." I read it while on my way to a funeral several hours from my home, and I couldn't put it down. I think everyone should read this book.
Conclusion: if the malaria doesn't get to you, the spiritual malaise will. You have been warned of the horror ahead.
Finally, there's The Castle, by Franz Kafka. I also read this book for my Science and Literature class, and for a time, it held the dubious honor of being my Most Hated Book. Kafka left off writing it halfway through the last sentence, for crying out loud! I was infuriated that he couldn't be bothered to finish the book, and I found the villagers' provincial and bureaucratic customs annoying in the extreme. However, after reading the book multiple times for discussion and sharing some very interesting thoughts on the castle itself as a singularity (yes, we're talking black holes now), the book grew on me. Now I'm taking a Kafka seminar in the spring--Kafka would be so proud.
Conclusion: as Kafka himself said, there is an infinite amount of hope, but not for us. Once you accept this, you can laugh and get on with the rest of the book.
Now I'm interested to know which of these extreme books you've read and what you thought of them. Let me know in the comments! My money is on Ed Turner, fellow bibliophile and blogger, to have read the most of those on the list.
50 Extreme Books
As fellow book-lovers, I'm sure you've all thought about what reading you'd do if you were ill, not so ill as to be in any real danger, but ill enough that you'd have to stay in bed for an extended period of time. I once read a customer review on Audible written by a woman who was prescribed bed rest after having surgery. She chose to utilize her time by reading War and Peace as an audio book, though I can't help but wonder whether it was a good idea for her to mix Tolstoy with Percocet--from what I've heard of his writing, it demands full lucidity.
Anyway, it got me thinking about those books we approach as textual Mount Everests, the extreme sports of the literary arena. There are the classic tomes that everyone talks about but few have read, such as Moby Dick and War and Peace, but there are other, slimmer volumes which look deceptively simple, yet are about as tricky as navigating through quicksand in the Fire Swamp. I came across a list of "50 Incredibly Tough Books for Extreme Readers" and was surprised to learn that I had read more than I thought. Four out of fifty is not bad; others of these are on my "To Read" list. I'll post some short blurbs of the books I have read, then copy the link below so you can see how many you've read.
First is To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. I tried reading this book on my own and gave up halfway through, but returned to it as required reading for my Science and Literature class last spring. I ended up reading it multiple times for our class discussion; it's definitely a book which rewards re-reading. With this one, I found it helped to talk through the text in class. It made it much easier to keep track of the stream of consciousness narration, and reading the book in an academic setting allowed us to analyze the themes in more depth than I would have done on my own.
Conclusion: unless you have a Mrs. Ramsay to guide your vision, you won't make it to the lighthouse with James and Cam.
Next is Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. I know of only two other people who have read this book, which may surprise you when you see how short it is. This one is tough not in the sense that it is difficult to read, but in that it's a highly disturbing story. This book has haunted me ever since I read it as a junior in high school. My history professor mentioned it casually in class, and I thought it would be easy to get through in an afternoon. I was wrong--I am still working through this book and thinking about the weighty questions of war, ethics, and suicide it poses.
Conclusion: getting through it is not hard, but unless you have some way to communicate your experience of reading this book, you may be trapped in the same despair as the main character.
Then there's Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I know a lot of people who dislike this book. I love it, and, ironically, didn't find it difficult to read. It's a critique of imperialism written as densely as the jungles of Belgium's African colonies and a classic modernist text that inspired the 1979 movie "Apocalypse Now." I read it while on my way to a funeral several hours from my home, and I couldn't put it down. I think everyone should read this book.
Conclusion: if the malaria doesn't get to you, the spiritual malaise will. You have been warned of the horror ahead.
Finally, there's The Castle, by Franz Kafka. I also read this book for my Science and Literature class, and for a time, it held the dubious honor of being my Most Hated Book. Kafka left off writing it halfway through the last sentence, for crying out loud! I was infuriated that he couldn't be bothered to finish the book, and I found the villagers' provincial and bureaucratic customs annoying in the extreme. However, after reading the book multiple times for discussion and sharing some very interesting thoughts on the castle itself as a singularity (yes, we're talking black holes now), the book grew on me. Now I'm taking a Kafka seminar in the spring--Kafka would be so proud.
Conclusion: as Kafka himself said, there is an infinite amount of hope, but not for us. Once you accept this, you can laugh and get on with the rest of the book.
Now I'm interested to know which of these extreme books you've read and what you thought of them. Let me know in the comments! My money is on Ed Turner, fellow bibliophile and blogger, to have read the most of those on the list.
50 Extreme Books
Friday, November 1, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Zombies and Dimes
Greetings, fellow readers! This week has been a somewhat difficult one for me personally--I have come down with some horrible sore throat disease of death--but wonderful in terms of my Shelf Life. Let me explain . . .
Today I returned to the Friends of the Library sale for their ten cent day, an event which I had the pleasure of experiencing for the first time with my friend Tia, a fellow student and Quidditch player here at UF. Between the two of us, we ended up buying 48 books! (In case you're reading this, Mom, don't worry--they're small, and I promise to donate more of mine to the Book Crossing bag so I don't hog all the space.) The selection today was much worse than it was on Saturday; it was rather like picking through the leftovers of a town that had already been plundered and pillaged. I ended up with some ridiculous fantasy paperbacks with titles like The Prince of Whales and I Heard the Owl Call My Name to match my Silly Sci-Fi Stack--I'm sensing a mini-collection here--and a few classic lit paperbacks that hadn't been snatched up by students looking for cheap textbooks. Tia also found me a pocket-sized volume called A Little Coffee Cookbook, which promises to teach me how to make such treats as coffee and ginger souffle and coffee banana bread. This could be lethal . . .
By this time, my throat had reached the Point of Unendurable Agony, so I crawled into bed for a few hours' sleep before . . .
Going to hear Max Brooks, author of World War Z and The Zombie Survival Guide, speak at the student union!
I went with my boyfriend, Jacob, and friends Haley and Lexi. We're all big fans of the books, and Haley and I both play Humans vs. Zombies on campus, which is more like glorified tag than surviving the apocalypse, but still. Mr. Brooks gave a talk and then answered questions from the audience. I asked him what his zombie melee weapon of choice is, and he said a crowbar. He went on to explain that weapon choice is also a question of environment: he's from Los Angeles, and therefore has crowbars in case of earthquakes, as well as zombie outbreaks, though he said since I'm from Jacksonville, I might prefer a machete. He signed my copies of his books and was gracious enough to pose for a picture, which I will post as soon as I get it uploaded.
Now that my bookish adventures are complete, I'm off to bed with some hot tea and a new novel. If I'm going to be sick, I'm at least going to be well-read as I cough to death!
Until next time,
Anna
Today I returned to the Friends of the Library sale for their ten cent day, an event which I had the pleasure of experiencing for the first time with my friend Tia, a fellow student and Quidditch player here at UF. Between the two of us, we ended up buying 48 books! (In case you're reading this, Mom, don't worry--they're small, and I promise to donate more of mine to the Book Crossing bag so I don't hog all the space.) The selection today was much worse than it was on Saturday; it was rather like picking through the leftovers of a town that had already been plundered and pillaged. I ended up with some ridiculous fantasy paperbacks with titles like The Prince of Whales and I Heard the Owl Call My Name to match my Silly Sci-Fi Stack--I'm sensing a mini-collection here--and a few classic lit paperbacks that hadn't been snatched up by students looking for cheap textbooks. Tia also found me a pocket-sized volume called A Little Coffee Cookbook, which promises to teach me how to make such treats as coffee and ginger souffle and coffee banana bread. This could be lethal . . .
By this time, my throat had reached the Point of Unendurable Agony, so I crawled into bed for a few hours' sleep before . . .
Going to hear Max Brooks, author of World War Z and The Zombie Survival Guide, speak at the student union!
I went with my boyfriend, Jacob, and friends Haley and Lexi. We're all big fans of the books, and Haley and I both play Humans vs. Zombies on campus, which is more like glorified tag than surviving the apocalypse, but still. Mr. Brooks gave a talk and then answered questions from the audience. I asked him what his zombie melee weapon of choice is, and he said a crowbar. He went on to explain that weapon choice is also a question of environment: he's from Los Angeles, and therefore has crowbars in case of earthquakes, as well as zombie outbreaks, though he said since I'm from Jacksonville, I might prefer a machete. He signed my copies of his books and was gracious enough to pose for a picture, which I will post as soon as I get it uploaded.
Now that my bookish adventures are complete, I'm off to bed with some hot tea and a new novel. If I'm going to be sick, I'm at least going to be well-read as I cough to death!
Until next time,
Anna
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Book Sales and Bagpipes
Greetings, fellow readers! There are few things in life that will get me out of bed at five o'clock on a Saturday morning--I am a college student, after all--but the semi-annual Friends of the Library book sale in Gainesville is one of them. This was my third time going to the book sale, but my first time camping out in line to get in. I went with my friends Alex and Ashlyn, and we began by fortifying ourselves with Dunkin' Donuts coffee and breakfast sandwiches. We left campus at 5:30 AM and got to the book sale an hour before sunrise. As we waited for the doors to open, we chatted and shivered under a nest of blankets and quilts.
By 8:30, a sizable queue snaked along the driveway and around the block. We stretched our muscles, stiff from sitting on the cold ground, and started planning which tables to visit first once we got inside.
Finally, the doors opened, and we rushed into the building to the tune of "Scotland the Brave," courtesy of a local bagpiper. I went straight to the science fiction section, then looped around to literature and topped off my stack with a Spanish edition of Shakespeare's sonnets (yes, I can read Spanish, for those of you pondering the utility of such a book.)
I think this stack will make a nice addition to my ever-growing library, which is now nearing 700 volumes. And now, dear readers, if you'll excuse me, the rest of my Saturday is booked: I have a lot of reading to do!
Until next time,
Anna
P.S. If you haven't been to the book sale and want to go, don't despair! It's going on through Wednesday, and there's a ten cent day where all books go for a dime. I highly recommend you take a trip downtown, if you can; this fall's selection is really good.
By 8:30, a sizable queue snaked along the driveway and around the block. We stretched our muscles, stiff from sitting on the cold ground, and started planning which tables to visit first once we got inside.
Finally, the doors opened, and we rushed into the building to the tune of "Scotland the Brave," courtesy of a local bagpiper. I went straight to the science fiction section, then looped around to literature and topped off my stack with a Spanish edition of Shakespeare's sonnets (yes, I can read Spanish, for those of you pondering the utility of such a book.)
Until next time,
Anna
P.S. If you haven't been to the book sale and want to go, don't despair! It's going on through Wednesday, and there's a ten cent day where all books go for a dime. I highly recommend you take a trip downtown, if you can; this fall's selection is really good.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Comfort Books
Greetings, fellow readers! Today is just one of those days when the universe decides to make life difficult. I got caught in the sprinklers (twice), my shoes rubbed bloody blisters onto the backs of my heels, and I didn't get home until ten o'clock tonight. Everybody else is suffering the post-midterm blues and the attendant slough of colds, viruses, and existential crises. At this point, I'm not sure if I'm riding the Struggle Bus or falling off the back!
The Struggle Bus
So, like any self-respecting book lover, I decided to park myself at Pascal's Coffeehouse for several hours of reading and studying. Alas, I was unable to partake of any of the delicious teas and coffees for sale there because I'm flat broke--at this point in the day, the back wheel had fallen off the Struggle Bus--but my dear friend Jordan was kind enough to share a spinach croissant with me. We got to talking, as we often do, about books.
There are some books that are the literary equivalent of mom's homemade mac-and-cheese or grandma's famous chocolate chip cookies--you know what I'm talking about. I call them comfort books, and if ever there was a day for comfort books, it is today. For Jordan, these books are the works of Jane Austen. For my roommate, Allison, these are the Harry Potter series. For me . . . well, I tend to read books that are ponderous and depressing (I am taking two Holocaust classes this fall and a Kafka seminar in the spring), but I've had enough of that for a while. And so I implore you, dear readers, recommend me some comfort books! Share your favorites, comment with the books you turn to to get through difficult times. Help a fellow bibliophile off the Struggle Bus and onto the bookmobile. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with.
Until next time,
Anna
The Struggle Bus
So, like any self-respecting book lover, I decided to park myself at Pascal's Coffeehouse for several hours of reading and studying. Alas, I was unable to partake of any of the delicious teas and coffees for sale there because I'm flat broke--at this point in the day, the back wheel had fallen off the Struggle Bus--but my dear friend Jordan was kind enough to share a spinach croissant with me. We got to talking, as we often do, about books.
There are some books that are the literary equivalent of mom's homemade mac-and-cheese or grandma's famous chocolate chip cookies--you know what I'm talking about. I call them comfort books, and if ever there was a day for comfort books, it is today. For Jordan, these books are the works of Jane Austen. For my roommate, Allison, these are the Harry Potter series. For me . . . well, I tend to read books that are ponderous and depressing (I am taking two Holocaust classes this fall and a Kafka seminar in the spring), but I've had enough of that for a while. And so I implore you, dear readers, recommend me some comfort books! Share your favorites, comment with the books you turn to to get through difficult times. Help a fellow bibliophile off the Struggle Bus and onto the bookmobile. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with.
Until next time,
Anna
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
"Here's my comfort."
Greetings, fellow readers! Today brings us to another new type of reading: script reading for a play. As some of you know, I am involved with UF's Shakespeare in the Park. We are a student run organization that mounts a full outdoor production of a Shakespeare play every spring in UF's Plaza of the Americas. We make all of our own costumes and sets, and we rehearse all year leading up to the performance.
This year, the play is The Tempest, which is interpreted variously as Shakespeare's autumnal work, a commentary on colonialism, and a dreamlike story which takes place only in the main character's mind.
I got cast as Stephano, the drunken butler. At first, I wasn't sure what to make of this part: on the surface, Stephano's just a giddy clown, but after reading over the play again, I found out he's more than that. He's a character who's been shipwrecked, who hides a kind of merry sadness beneath his drunkenness. He constantly turns to his wine bottle and says, "Here's my comfort," after moments of introspection and meditation. He's an entertaining character, but he's pensive, too.
It made me think of other characters in literature, such as Jamei Lannister or Severus Snape, who are often misunderstood by readers and other characters . . . until we discover more about them. They are problematic, complex figures who do not offer us easy answers because they straddle the boundary between good and evil, right and wrong. They are great characters not because they are heroes or villains, but because they are human, and we see ourselves in them. We identify with their struggles, their desire to do good. We suffer with them when they fail because in their failures, we see our own.
As my mom once said, "We can't all be a Gandalf or an Aragorn, but we can be a Boromir." It is the broken and flawed characters who are our portals into the world of the story. They are us, failing when we try our utmost to succeed. Their tragedy is ours, and our story is theirs.
I hope you all will come to the play in March. You'll see me play a drunken butler. I hope you'll laugh, but I also hope you'll think about what you see onstage. To be human is to be flawed, but it is also to strive, to reach beyond who we are now in the hope of brushing a fingertip against the cloak of greatness.
Until next time,
Anna
This year, the play is The Tempest, which is interpreted variously as Shakespeare's autumnal work, a commentary on colonialism, and a dreamlike story which takes place only in the main character's mind.
I got cast as Stephano, the drunken butler. At first, I wasn't sure what to make of this part: on the surface, Stephano's just a giddy clown, but after reading over the play again, I found out he's more than that. He's a character who's been shipwrecked, who hides a kind of merry sadness beneath his drunkenness. He constantly turns to his wine bottle and says, "Here's my comfort," after moments of introspection and meditation. He's an entertaining character, but he's pensive, too.
It made me think of other characters in literature, such as Jamei Lannister or Severus Snape, who are often misunderstood by readers and other characters . . . until we discover more about them. They are problematic, complex figures who do not offer us easy answers because they straddle the boundary between good and evil, right and wrong. They are great characters not because they are heroes or villains, but because they are human, and we see ourselves in them. We identify with their struggles, their desire to do good. We suffer with them when they fail because in their failures, we see our own.
As my mom once said, "We can't all be a Gandalf or an Aragorn, but we can be a Boromir." It is the broken and flawed characters who are our portals into the world of the story. They are us, failing when we try our utmost to succeed. Their tragedy is ours, and our story is theirs.
I hope you all will come to the play in March. You'll see me play a drunken butler. I hope you'll laugh, but I also hope you'll think about what you see onstage. To be human is to be flawed, but it is also to strive, to reach beyond who we are now in the hope of brushing a fingertip against the cloak of greatness.
Until next time,
Anna
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