Finished Ironweed (good at times, great in fits and starts, ultimately unspectacular, like a poor man's Suttree) and a collection of poetry by Arthur Rimbaud. Now I'm blowing through a bunch of lighter books before I tackle some heavier stuff around the new year. First up, The Rum Diary, by Hunter S. Thompson. Enjoyable so far.

Fixed, b/c diversity of opinion is highly overrated.

Brainy, you are becoming the Montana of Now Reading.

And I'm sorry, but... http://soundopinions.org/forum/index.php?s...deathly+hallows

What the...? Am I supposed to just sit around with my thumb up my ass while people praise crap? Maybe I am, but That Will Never Happen.

So sad to see adults praise a book written with 14 year-olds in mind. Libraries full of great literature and some git on a broomstick gets all the love. Fine, so I'm a snob. I can live with that - pretty happily.

Have you read any of Cormac McCarthy's work, brain? If not, I think you might really dig Suttree.

Just took the time to read the last 3 pages...you are so Montana right now, you're eating granola, smoking mushrooms and admiring the Northern Lights twinkling across the plains.

It's kind of shameful that you don't care. Eh well. No more on the subject from me.

read The Border Trilogy. And Blood Meridian. Interesting that you mention him, though. I was thinking McCarthy reminds me of Larry Brown, or vice versa, just yesterday.

Brainstorm: you're missing the point on these Montana comparisons. Monty isn't an asshole cause he has no taste, I often agree with him. He's an asshole cause he acts like an asshole. And is repetitive. And snarky. etc.

There's all sorts of people on this board that disagree, but most of them still get along.

Montana shits all over everything he doesn't like to wind people up and incite controversy or conversation. I criticize things I think are over-praised and devoid of the substance which accrues to them. I don't hate Harry Potter, per se, for example - I hate hearing adults who've never read John Updike or Philip Roth wax rhapsodic about a novel for children. It's sad.

It's all just my opinion. Everyone else can state theirs. Why can't I comment and critique w/o being compared to Monty?

I care quite a bit about being compared to Montezuma. That said, I don't see why dissent and even harsher are always perceived as so bad, here. It isn't as if I'm ___________________________________________, dumping on people when I'm bored, or C-Poots, snarking away at everyone older than him b/c no one has yet convinced him the opinions of 18 year-olds are precious and self-involved nonsense that even they will be embarrassed to have held by the time they're 22.

I post about books I love here, as well. I didn't know the conversation on this board always had to be everyone sucking each other's asses agreeing that their naked emporer is the coolest thing going.

Now that I DO know, however, I have to say nothing is likely to change.

Like my Ma always sez, "It's not what you say, but how you say it."

Good call. I read that a few years ago and really enjoyed it. They have been attempting to make a movie based on it for quite some time. It seems to be in development hell. At first, they had Josh Hartnett as the main character, but now I think they are considering Johnny Depp. Either way, good book. I wish Thompson wrote more fiction.

You DO know, don't you, Ag, that you're even more annoying when you're right?

Like now, for instance.

A brief bit of something like apology: I don't mean to be the new Montana, nor do I intentionally shit all over everything. I don't get the House of Leaves love, by way of example, and I think it's a case of the emporer and his clothes. Which isn't to say that people who like it are idiots, either. But all of us can be swayed to believe something is amazing that really isn't, and if House of Leaves is amazing as a text, there should be a version of it available that only exists as text. That there is not makes me think someone at the publisher's thinks it's a weak story unless made into "an experience." Call it lack of imagination, but the experience I'm looking for in a book is available to anyone who can read and comprehend black words on a white page. A book like House of Leaves sets up a paradigm in which some people "get it" and some do not, and that's exactly the sort of Inside Baseball, undemocratic crap I have no tolerance for.

That said, I wear my heart pinned to my sleeve. My bleeding liberal/left heart. And my ego gets fused to things I love, which is bad news for everyone, but actually much worse for me, as I have to listen to my brain when I logoff and you guys get to go hom eand not think about it anymore. Not that I expect or deserve empathy.

I'm going to start posting just books I love. And trying to explain why in a form which might inspire someone to try reading one of them. If you don't like the books, I will do my level best not to react, or at least not to react without thought. In fact, I will do my level best not to overreact regardless of the comment, but if someone agrees with me on one of them and I try to give you the board's equivalent of a wet, sloppy kiss, try not to freak out.

And yeah, there was probably a way to say that in one graf, but I'm no Hemingway. Economy has never been my long suit.

If Cormac McCarthy is arguably America's greatest living writer, at least outside of genre ghettoes, Larry Brown would arguably have been America's Greatest Living Unknown Writer, and still would be had he not died four years ago. A Miracle of Catfish might have been the book to break him out of his niche altogether, had he finished it and done at least one revision. As it stands, it's about three chapters from an ending, and he introduces a character or two a little late in the narrative arc for my comfort. But those things happen on a first draft. If I could write this well on a first draft, I'd be walking around town covered in dried semen.

Brown writes about poor, working-poor, lower middle class people in North Mississippi and, if he's feeling venturesome, Tennessee. This seems to turn most readers off, which I find shameful, but I guess these days the average book reader wants a universal sort of cast and plot, set in some generic location which exists more as a stage backdrop than a part of the text. I personally see the world and my country through the pages of books, but whatevs.

If the mileu hasn't turned you off, this is nominally the story of a farmer named Cortez Sharp who builds himself a big catfish pond, the fish farm owner who hides his monster broodmother catfish in that pond, and the little boy down the road who accidentally hooks the beast. Nominally. In actuality, this is the story of flawed men who may or may not be beyond any human redemption and the way they deal with their lives and their own consciousness of their irredeemable natures, and the lessons they pass to the innocent.

Brown's stated purpose with his characters was always to throw as much as he could at them and see what they do in the crucible, triumph or melt. He changes his game a little in Catfish, in that Jimmy's Daddy (that's what he's called) is clearly irredeemable at the beginning and what accrues to his misery is a result of his own actions, which are dictated by the fundamental rottenness of his soul. Cortez Sharp, the prosperous, older farmer up the road, has done iredeemable things in his life, and knows it and lives with an uneasy mix of defiance and regret, revealing in memory the exact nature of his actions which have him convinced he belongs in Hell. Brown sets up a narrative in which the villain isn't villainous so much as pathetic, and the hero isn't heroic so much as likable despite everything.

No one can say for sure, but I have to wonder if that wasn't going to be Brown's farewell to North Mississippi as a setting. The whole novel is a love letter to the country he was born and raised in and returned to as soon as his military hitch was done in the early '70s. No stranger to the South, myself, Brown made North Mississippi seem impossibly exotic to me while I was still in Ohio. Now that I live here, I rejoice along with him in the beauty of this place as it pours off the pages. All Brown's novels showed off his love of this area, but this one is almost a tourist brochure for people who want to know the real places to go; the real stuff to see.

Had this been properly finished and revised, I think it might have been a contender for the '07 National Book Award. As is, it's a perfect epitaph for an extraordinary career and talent, and not at all a bad introduction to Larry Brown's too-little-praised gifts. He was one of the Great Ones, and almost no one ever knew.

Leave it to Boostorm to write 200 words about how he's going to start shutting up.

And anyone who thinks Harry Potter books are all written for children has never read past book 3.

Leave it to Loblaw to test me by failing to comprehend what he read, including, apparently, the note that economy isn't my long suit.

Harry Potter books were written for 9 - 14 year-olds. Who are children, last time I checked. There's nothing wrong with either reading or enjoying them. There is something disturbing, however, about people with the mental faculty to read Lawrence and Dostoevsky exulting inthe adventures of a kid who plays a competitive game on a flying broomstick.

A little more balance; a little less fan geekery gone berserk is all I advocate.

So I guess I should call off my Dr. Seuss binge then, right?

I think what I mean is clear enough. If the usual detractors are done with specious arguments not based on a careful read of what I had to say, it'd be swell to talk about books.

It isn't as if the Montanas of this world exist in a vacuum.

I know - much more fun to take shots at someone famous for overreaction than to discuss the topic at hand. Which was:



If Cormac McCarthy is arguably America's greatest living writer, at least outside of genre ghettoes, Larry Brown would arguably have been America's Greatest Living Unknown Writer, and still would be had he not died four years ago. A Miracle of Catfish might have been the book to break him out of his niche altogether, had he finished it and done at least one revision. As it stands, it's about three chapters from an ending, and he introduces a character or two a little late in the narrative arc for my comfort. But those things happen on a first draft. If I could write this well on a first draft, I'd be walking around town covered in dried semen.

Brown writes about poor, working-poor, lower middle class people in North Mississippi and, if he's feeling venturesome, Tennessee. This seems to turn most readers off, which I find shameful, but I guess these days the average book reader wants a universal sort of cast and plot, set in some generic location which exists more as a stage backdrop than a part of the text. I personally see the world and my country through the pages of books, but whatevs.

If the mileu hasn't turned you off, this is nominally the story of a farmer named Cortez Sharp who builds himself a big catfish pond, the fish farm owner who hides his monster broodmother catfish in that pond, and the little boy down the road who accidentally hooks the beast. Nominally. In actuality, this is the story of flawed men who may or may not be beyond any human redemption and the way they deal with their lives and their own consciousness of their irredeemable natures, and the lessons they pass to the innocent.

Brown's stated purpose with his characters was always to throw as much as he could at them and see what they do in the crucible, triumph or melt. He changes his game a little in Catfish, in that Jimmy's Daddy (that's what he's called) is clearly irredeemable at the beginning and what accrues to his misery is a result of his own actions, which are dictated by the fundamental rottenness of his soul. Cortez Sharp, the prosperous, older farmer up the road, has done iredeemable things in his life, and knows it and lives with an uneasy mix of defiance and regret, revealing in memory the exact nature of his actions which have him convinced he belongs in Hell. Brown sets up a narrative in which the villain isn't villainous so much as pathetic, and the hero isn't heroic so much as likable despite everything.

No one can say for sure, but I have to wonder if that wasn't going to be Brown's farewell to North Mississippi as a setting. The whole novel is a love letter to the country he was born and raised in and returned to as soon as his military hitch was done in the early '70s. No stranger to the South, myself, Brown made North Mississippi seem impossibly exotic to me while I was still in Ohio. Now that I live here, I rejoice along with him in the beauty of this place as it pours off the pages. All Brown's novels showed off his love of this area, but this one is almost a tourist brochure for people who want to know the real places to go; the real stuff to see.

Had this been properly finished and revised, I think it might have been a contender for the '07 National Book Award. As is, it's a perfect epitaph for an extraordinary career and talent, and not at all a bad introduction to Larry Brown's too-little-praised gifts. He was one of the Great Ones, and almost no one ever knew.

in the last two weeks, i've finished the world without us (after it sat untouched and 2/3rds done for about two months) and the entitled. the former was good when it wasn't totally dry. the best sections were, by far, about how and how quickly every trace of human beings will disappear. the latter had moments of brilliance in fictional sports writing, but i wasn't really impressed with it overall.

and yesterday i began outliers. so far, it's excellent. i expect nothing less from malcolm gladwell.

world with out us was a lot of fun. and outliers is quality.

right now, i'm reading this book about debt by margaret atwood, the ghost in love by jonathan carroll, the great gatsby and stranger in a strange land. two of these should be done by the weekend.

I'm intrigued. I'll give this a spin in the new year.

Excellent! Even if you hate it, I won't be mad, since I respect your opinion. If only I was that mature all the time. Ah well, if wishes were fishes, beggars would eat.

Brain Storm, have you read House of Leaves? I agree that the majority of novels should be available in normal text for everyone to read, but this is just his style. Danielewski did it with The Fifty Year Sword as well as his most recent publication, Only Revolutions. I don't think he has weak story lines that need to be made exciting by creating scattered, odd formats for his text. I think he uses the style to tie into the story, much like children's books. When something intriguing or anticipatory occurs, the text is found in a new format. I think it makes the read more enjoyable and exciting for the reader. That said, I think if Danielewski published this in a normal text, I would still thoroughly enjoy the book. He would still need to have the footnotes upon footnotes, but this is the only book I have ever read where I have experienced every human emotion while reading. It's brilliant and I think disliking the format shouldn't steal the attention that the story is very complicated and obscure, allowing the reader to dig deeper and deeper into their own labyrinths.

This is pretty cool. Anyone who likes Danielewski (or a good riddle, for that matter) should check this out.

http://markzdanielewski.info/mzdriddle.html

I've attempted reading it three different times. All three, his "style" has defeated me. Hence my conclusion he's a pretentious git who relies on people being able to "get" him for his success.

Fair enough. I was never one to push and recommend books for others. Literature is one thing that everyone seems to differ about in regards to taste. The majority of my friends read books completely different than me. Who knows. That Larry Brown book looks intriguing, though.

In all fairness, I should probably say that my real dislike of House of Leaves is that it made me feel as if I were stupid and whenever that happens, rather than shrug it off, I become an obnoxious twit and say things like Ihave been the last few pages. It may well be great, but it defeated me. I am not a gracious loser.

My interest in House of Leaves was never about the form of it. It was always about the story. The graphic design aerobics was certainly interesting, but hardly the reason I liked it so much. This is probably why I was so disappointed by his latest work Only Revolutions, which seems far more experimental and less immediately narratively satisfying. Of course, I haven't read it yet so I could be wrong. But it looks like it might be too much work for too little reward. House of Leaves, on the other hand, was gripping from the start.

Ogawa's OTM. Danielewski could have done it without the colored fonts, the textual illustrations, etc. But that's just icing on top of this very deep cake. Hell, I've read the book on and off for ages, and I still don't get it all--especially how any of the Navidson story connects to the mother's letters and the poetry at the back end of the book. But it grips you if you let it...people have confessed to sleepless nights and bad dreams from reading this book.

FWIW, I didn't like Only Revolutions nowhere as much as HoL either.

Double negative: Means you liked it as much or more.

Only Revolutions was still quite enjoyable. It wasn't NEARLY as great as House of Leaves, but it kept my attention. The book is VERY poetic and definitely an interesting, original take on literature, but it wasn't necessarily a positive type of interesting and original. Either way, I really look forward to his next novel, whenever that will be....



The only connection between Navidson and the mother is Truant. All of the letters are examples of how she slowly (and steadily) went batshit crazy while in the nut house (I guess she was pretty close to begin with). A lot of people believe that her style of writing and her letters seem very similar to a lot of the narration throughout the novel, thus hinting that the mother, in fact, wrote the book under the name Zampano. Do I believe this? I'm not sure. Others also believe that the mother was, in fact, Navidson's mother and Truant and Navidson were the same person. When you really think about it, you can make up any option for the ending and the connections and the ideas throughout this book. It's much like a Lynch film. Such a great fucking book. Talking about it right now makes me want to read it again and I finished it a few weeks ago for the fifth or sixth time.


With that said, has anyone read The Fifty Year Sword by him? It's pretty terrific. Pretty hard to find.

Just finished this and I was very impressed.There were so many layers to the story and the writing was well done indeed.So many different emotions haunt this book(Horror,Hope,Love,Fear,etc.)and it is very interesting to see how Truant slowly goes completely insane.Also, the mother's letters at the end are heartbreaking.A really good read,But now I need something lightweight to read to offset the darkness.

Read this.

It's great. Only about 110 pages or something and really funny and clever. I'm a big fan of Steve Martin's writing style.

did you ever read born standing up? it's positively breezy.

Cool. I'll look for it in my library next time I go.

Oh yeah, that's a good one. I like all of his stuff. Also really enjoyed Pure Drivel and Shopgirl. Rather disappointed with the film version of Shopgirl the first time, but kind of liked it the second time.

I assume most people here are familiar if not with this specific book then at least with Bill Bryson. If you're unfamiliar, Bryson makes the perfect intro to the world of travel narrative, a genre which at its best fuses personal narrative and drama with social criticism, observation and history. A Walk in the Woods was Bryson's way of reacclimating himself to America after having lived most of his adult life in England. He and his often hilarious, occasionally tragic childhood friend, Steve Katz from Iowa, decide to walk the Appalachian Trail. Two middle aged guys, out of shape, with no practical camping experience, decide to walk the grandaddy of American long trails. What could be a recipe for disaster becomes in Bryson's hands a meditation on just how beautiful and amazing this country of ours can be, a raging howl against its destruction and pollution, a history of this kind of trail walking, as well as the areas it passes through, and does it all in the guise of an hilarious, often laugh out loud funny travel narrative. Bryson's other work is of a par with this, but somehow this is the one I can read again and again.

wait, is this thread about books again?

Anyway, finally reading this:


Cormac McCarthy - The Road

but not yesterday - being alone was bad enough - no need to read this and add to the gloom.

i started the road today. will finish tomorrow.

love it so far.

The Road is good, but read Cormac's Blood Meridian and no book will ever seem good again.

Meh. A good book, but hardly more than Jim Thompson in the old West. It's the Border Trilogy books that really bowl me over.

I haven't yet read the Border Trilogy. I have a beautiful copy of it, though. The Modern Library hardcover edition. I'll probably be starting it January 1st. I intend to read a lot in 2009. You really should read Suttree, brain. I think it'd really speak to you. Really, an amazing, heartbreaking, overwhelming, upsetting, beautiful book.

suttree is the next book on my pile. the road's the only mccarthy i've made it through. and it didn't hit me like most other folks got hit by it. but i think i'm in the mood for him at the moment and after i saw ebert reference suttree in his review of synecdoche, i figured i should give it a shot.


anyhow, i'm reading the great gatsby for the first time since high school. great fucking book. so much better than i could remember.

It's on my imaginary list. I tried making a real list, but when it got to three pages and wasn't close to being done, I gave up.

Larry Brown - On Fire

Maybe the holidays is the wrong time for The Road. I put it down yesterday and started re-reading On Fire. For 17 years Brown was a member of the Oxford Fire Department, retiring in 1990 at the rank of Captain when his writing career demanded all his time. On Fire is his memoir of those years, and details the life of a small town firefighter's life, on and off duty, with the same stark prose and compassion found in his novels.

Faulkner fictionalized Oxford into Jefferson, and viewed its life and times with a dubious, often jaundiced eye. Brown adored his hometown and its people and that love pours off these pages.

Years after 9/11, it is all too easy to take what these men do for granted, or become jaded and cynical about shopworn phrases such as "laying their lives on the line." On Fire shames me for that easy cynicism, showing me that what makes firemen heroic is not simply what they risk, but why: The extraordinary decency that accompanies a life based on running into flaming buildings; the commitment to life above all; the cameraderie and brotherhood that defies our snark; and the psychic price many of them pay for caring so deeply. I suppose I'm a sentimental fool, but it's hard to read this without choking up a little, or even a lot.

Life-affirming, in the best sense of yet another shopworn phrase.

cosigned.

i just finished when you are engulfed in flames yesterday. at least two-thirds of these stories mentioned either paris or normandy when they weren't integral at all. "at our house in normandy" is sedaris' "on a dark and stormy night." and 70+ pages on a 3-month trip to tokyo to quit smoking? mostly boring. i only kept reading because i was 35,000 feet over the atlantic ocean and had nothing better to do.

I read about 3/4th of this book about two years ago when it first came out. Unfortunately, I lost it before I could finish it. I really didn't appreciate it because I wanted something similar to House of Leaves so I never bothered giving it another shot. Until now. Because of my continuing fascination for all things Danielewski, I decided to give this one another chance and I have fallen in love with it. The poetic, rhythmic style that this book offers is miraculous. My reading preferences (as well as my writing style) has changed in the past two years and this book it right up my alley. I definitely prefer Hailey's narrative, but they are both outstanding. Not even comparable to House of Leaves, but Only Revolutions is still worth a read. I'm about 1/5 of the way done with it and I can't seem to put it down. Good shit.

After this, I'm going to read some straight-forward travel writing by Bill Bryson that my dad got me for Christmas.