Rabbit, Run

  

Rabbit, Run
by John Updike
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Guardian 1000 Novels

The canon of English-language literature is heavy on white dudes, and Rabbit, Run is one of the more white-dude-ier. Protagonist Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom is married, with a good job, a son, and a baby on the way, but he's not happy, or something, so he just up and leaves. Is that compelling? Or is Rabbit just kind of an ass?

This Book Is Full of Spiders

 

This Book Is Full of Spiders
by David Wong
read: 2020

The sequel to John Dies at the End, This Book Is Full of Spiders has a more linear plot. There's still the combination of humor and horror present in the first book, but it loses a little bit of the madness of the original, where weird stuff came from everywhere unpredictably. But when I think about it, it's still pretty insane.

Brideshead Revisted

 

Brideshead Revisited
by Evelyn Waugh
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Modern Library #80

I've read plenty of books with a protagonist of dubious moral quality: The Ginger Man, Money, and Under the Net come to mind. At first blush, Charles Ryder doesn't dabble in nearly the same level of depravity as the main characters of those works. Yes, he spends much of the novel's first half drunk and spending too much money, and the latter half of the book involves his adultery, but he's functional, prosperous, and well-liked.

The novel's ending makes clear that Charles has something missing, however. He's an avowed atheist and openly mocks the Catholic faith of the Flyte family. But the Flytes, who are on the surface even more flawed than Charles, find some redemption in their faith. Julia essentially commits the same sins as Charles (they have an affair) but she finds purpose in service through Catholicism. Sebastian, long lost abroad in alcoholism, finds some kind of symbiotic relationship with the church in North Africa. Even the physical chapel at Brideshead itself, long shuttered after the family matriarch's death, re-emerges in wartime. Charles will receive no such redemption, and by the novel's end, he knows it.

The Power and the Glory

 

The Power and the Glory
by Graham Greene
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Guardian 1000 Novels

The Heart of the Matter was about Henry Scobie's gradual betrayal of nearly everything he holds dear, and Greene puts similar themes on display in The Power and the Glory. The novel follows a priest in Mexico on the run from a government suppressing the Catholic faith. He loses all the trappings of his office as he goes. A drunkard who once sired a daughter, the priest has crossed almost every line that exists. Despite that, he cannot give up his faith. He refuses to, like Padre Jose, take a wife and renounce the church, and he continues to put himself in danger by practicing his religion when he has the opportunity to flee to safer pastures. He's weak for his failings, but there's a kernel of resolve there too, or at least stubbornness.

Loving

Loving
by Henry Green
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Modern Library #89

A couple of interesting things about Loving: While many novels, particularly British ones, during the class-divided era tend to focus more on the aristocracy, this one deals more with the servants of an Irish country house. The owners of the house remain aloof, even absconding to London for a significant stretch while the help runs things. Secondly, there are numerous plot threads that never really resolve: the missing ring, Mrs. Jack's affair, Albert joining the war, the dead peacock, etc. This seems deliberate rather than careless, but I'm not sure what it signifies.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
by Michael Chabon
read: 2004
Guardian 1000 Novels, Pulitzer Prize

I finished this one during an overnight layover at Heathrow Airport. Recommended for comic book fans.

Under the Net

Under the Net
by Iris Murdoch
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Modern Library #95

There's a lot going on in Under the Net. Of the other novels I've read, I'd liken it most to The Ginger Man, also the work of an Irish author. Like Sebastian in that novel, Jake Donaghue stumbles from place-to-place and action-to-action with little intent and often seemingly without agency. Donaghue is pompous, self-centered, and lazy, but not as destructive as Sebastian. He starts the novel with no residence, no job, a decaying relationship, and very little motivation to improve his situation. On paper, things aren't a lot better at the end of the novel, but he's obtained a fresh outlook on things, with some promise for the future. And a dog.

John Dies at the End

John Dies at the End
by David Wong
read: 2020

Equal parts funny and disturbing. I didn't see the twist at the end coming despite the introduction foreshadowing it.

Candide

Candide
by Voltaire
read: ~1997
Guardian 1000 Novels

I read this back in high school and enjoyed it, though that was a while ago and I don't remember too much. "All that is very well, but let us cultivate our garden."

The Heart of the Matter

The Heart of the Matter
by Graham Greene
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Modern Library #40

The story arc of The Heart of the Matter takes us through the betrayals, compromises, and infidelities of well-meaning Henry Scobie, as he betrays his job, his wife, his integrity, his religion, and his soul. Spoilers ahead.

Two themes stand out to me: one is the misery involved in the human condition. Scobie's daughter dies young. Scobie's wife Louise is unhappy, and when Scobie has an affair he finds his new mistress just as unhappy. Pemberton, a young soldier, commits suicide. A ship is sunk many die, including a young child who survives days of exposure at sea before finally succumbing. If there is a God, is He capriciously cruel?

Pointlessness is the other theme that stands out. Actions rarely have consequences. Wilson is investigating Scobie the whole time, but cannot pin anything on him even though Scobie eventually does help smugglers. Scobie fails to keep his affair secret, and his wife finds out, but it doesn't matter. Scobie is passed over for Commissioner, then gets the job, then doesn't wind up taking it. The one daring chance Scobie takes for Helen, writing her a letter, never reaches her. Scobie takes great pains to plan his suicide so it will be taken as a natural death, but Wilson finds him out. And even that suicide, which Scobie does with the understanding that it will damn his soul forever, may not condemn him in the end. On the book's final page, Louise talks to Father Rank, who tells her, "[D]on't imagine you—or I—know a thing about God's mercy ... The Church knows all the rules. But it doesn't know what goes on in a single human heart."

In light of these two themes, how do we judge Scobie? Does it matter that he tried to reduce the misery of others, at all turns, even at great cost? Does it matter that he failed? Does anything matter?

White Fang

White Fang
by Jack London
read: approximately 1996

See The Call of the Wild.

Giovanni's Room

Giovanni's Room
by James Baldwin
read: 2020
Guardian 1000 Novels

During February, Black History Month, I usually try to read books by African-American authors. An interesting element of Giovanni's Room is that virtually all the characters are white, with Baldwin exploring sexuality, rather than race. Protagonist David struggles with his feelings for the titular Giovanni. Ultimately, it's debatable whether David is gay or bi-sexual, but the larger issue is that he's afraid of his feelings and denies himself happiness. He can't be happy with Giovanni, nor with his fiancee Hella.

The Cider House Rules

The Cider House Rules
by John Irving
read: circa 2002

The Cider House Rules was the first Irving novel I read. There's a lot I remember—child abuse, a spouse lost at war, infidelity (and keeping markers of it), "Good night you princes of Maine, you kings of New England," abortion, ether—but mostly I remember hair.

NW

NW
by Zadie Smith
read: 2020

NW contains three sections, each in a different voice corresponding to a major character, and each in a distinct style, similar to The Sound and the Fury or As I Lay Dying. But I found that style difficult to get into with Faulkner, and I similarly found NW less approachable than Zadie Smith's other work.

The Corrections

The Corrections
by Jonathan Franzen
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Guardian 1000 Novels, National Book Award, James Tait Black Prize

I've been on a good run with reading the past couple months, but I started to flag about halfway through The Corrections. The novel shares some themes with White Noise and other novels that deal with the modern middle-class condition, and I slogged through reading extended passages of middle class misery. The section where depressed, alcoholic Gary resists admitting to his wife that he's a depressed alcoholic because she's manipulative and emotionally abusive, especially dragged. Siblings Gary, Chip, and Denise all rebel against their conventional Midwestern upbringing, but their rebellion does not liberate them and becomes its own prison. The children, along with parents Enid and Alfred, are all wildly unhappy.

At this point, two miracle cures are introduced that promise to fix Alfred and Enid: Corecktall, a potential solution to Alfred's Parkinson's, and Aslan, a Narnia-named and sketchily-prescribed pill that temporarily alleviates Enid's shame and unhappiness. At this point, I was fully expecting a redux of White Noise and the role Dylar played.

The novel goes in a different direction, however. Ultimately, neither Corecktal nor Aslan fulfills its promise, yet this doesn't necessarily mean salvation is lost to the characters in The Corrections. Sylvia, a minor character, provides a template in explaining how she got over the tragic murder of her daughter:

[A]bsolutely nothing changes except that you see things differently and you're less fearful and less anxious and generally stronger as a result: isn't it amazing that a completely invisible thing in your head can feel realer than anything you've experienced before? You see things more clearly and you know that you're seeing them more clearly.

Franzen takes us inside the characters' heads so much when they are miserable so he can set up these kinds of epiphanies that allow them to transcend that misery, at least potentially. The children come to realize they are running from rather than running to; ultimately rebellion for its own sake holds no more agency than conformity for its own sake. Once they understand that, they can start working towards building the kinds of lives they want to lead.

Jesus' Son

Jesus' Son
by Denis Johnson
read: 2019

I guess this is considered a short story collection. I view it as more of a novel, with a consistent narrator and a vague plot—the struggles of the unnamed narrator to find peace despite crippling drug addiction. I guess it doesn't really have much of a plot. I laughed out loud at one point in "Steady Hands at Seattle General," one of the funniest scenes I've ever read.

Foundation Series

Foundation Series
by Isaac Asimov
read: circa 1996
Guardian 1000 Novels, Hugo Award

When I was a freshman in high school, I had to read an autobiography and deliver an oral presentation in character as the person in question. I chose Isaac Asimov, although I had never read any of his novels. My introduction to his fiction came via Foundation, and I wound up reading the entire saga, at least the seven books Asimov wrote.

There's a lot of dystopian fiction about the horrors of the destruction of individual identity (Brave New World and 1984 are two examples), but the Foundation series ultimately makes an argument for the collective mind over the individual.

The Assistant

The Assistant
by Bernard Malamud
read: 2020
Time 100 Novels, Guardian 1000 Novels

The key scene in The Assistant, to me, takes place towards the end of the book when Morris Bober, desperate for stable income as his grocery spirals towards insolvency, comes groveling to his former business partner Charlie Sobeloff, who had cheated him in their prior dealings. Morris works a day as a cashier, at the end of which Charlie checks his register.

"You're short a dollar, Morris," Charlie said with a little chuckle, "but we will let it go."

"No," the grocer heard himself say. "I am short a dollar, so I will pay a dollar."

He pays Charlie, quits on the spot and walks "with dignity" out the door.

Just a few pages earlier, Morris had described himself as having "the will of a victim, no will to speak of." He shows that mentality throughout the novel, blaming bad luck and his wife making him quit pharmacy school, among other things, for his lack of success. Even here, Morris isn't quite a deliberate actor: the "heard himself say" construct is telling.

But at the same time, there is a choice here. Charlie invites him to let the small discrepancy slide, and Morris has every moral right to cheat his former partner after being swindled in the past. But instead he chooses honesty and making things right. While paying his small debt is presented as almost involuntary, his integrity and dignity are Morris' alone.

Morris is made to suffer repeatedly for his honesty, continually cheated by others while refusing to cheat in turn. No one understands his choices, either, not his wife (presented somewhat one-dimensionally as a nag) or his daughter, who laments his uncompromising nature even at Morris' funeral. Frank Alpine, the titular assistant, has spent his whole existence lying and cheating, making him the least likely person to understand Morris' integrity. And yet, ultimately it is Frank who follows Morris' path. Adhering to the grocer's strict principles of honesty, even at great personal cost, becomes Frank's way of breaking free of his cycle of rambling and crime.

The Natural

The Natural
by Bernard Malamud
read: circa 2002

"Some mistakes you never stop paying for."

The ending is different, and darker than the movie version of The Natural, which is obviously iconic, but a little harder to square with the theme as stated above.

Lovecraft Country

Lovecraft Country
by Matt Ruff
read: 2020

When I wrote about Hellboy, I opined that only a good-hearted demon with a fist of stone could withstand the sanity-crushing revelations of Lovecraftian fiction. Matt Ruff begs to differ, suggesting a more elegant solution: Jim-Crow-era African-Americans, who were forced to endure various other horrors with regularity. If people want to refuse you food, terrorize you when you move in, try to lynch you in the woods, try to murder your family in its home ... really, what can a Shoggoth do you that's any worse?

The World According to Garp

The World According to Garp
by John Irving
read: circa 2002

At one point in the novel, the titular T.S. Garp opines that "the autobiographical basis—if there even was one—was the least interesting level of which to read a novel." What makes this even more amusing is that Garp's life mirrors author John Irving's in many ways; Garp is a writer, he coaches wrestling, he knows nothing of his father. I think about this sentence a lot, both whether it is true or not, and whether Irving meant it to be true or if it was kind of a joke. 

A Prayer for Owen Meany

A Prayer for Owen Meany
by John Irving
read: circa 2002
Guardian 1000 Novels

I don't think any adaption of a written work has angered me as much as Simon Birch, a loose interpretation of A Prayer for Owen Meany and one of the worst films I've ever seen. I'm not sure who it was for; it starred child actors (dispensing with the parallel adult plot of Owen Meany) but dealt with concepts too mature for a kids movie, and anyone who read the book would despise the movie.

My other enduring memory of Owen Meany is the song "Four Strong Winds," a Canadian folk tune that pops up periodically.

Coraline

Coraline
by Neil Gaiman
read: 2019

Coraline wound up being the first non-picture book my son read. Well, there are occasional pictures, and I read probably every other page, but it counts.

I just watched the movie and while I think the visual feel was a great fit for the story, there were some changes I disliked. It seemed like they minimized Coraline's cleverness and resourcefulness at several points. In the novel, she finds most of the "ghost's eyes" through thoroughness and a keen eye; in the movie, it's more serendipity. In the book, she lays a shrewd trap for the Beldam's hand; in the movie, her neighbor Wybie (a character not found in the book) saves her.

Sandman

American Gods
by Neil Gaiman
read: 2019

I had a very Neil-Gaiman-y stretch in 2019 where I was reading Coraline with my son and Sandman on my own.  Sandman is interesting in that several of the story arcs barely involve the titular Sandman/Morpheus/Dream. Perhaps my favorite volume was A Game of You, where he appears only briefly. His diminished presence works in part because the character of Dream is tough to like: consumed by duty, grudge-bearing, moody, aloof no fun at parties. He's better when softened by his relationships with his sisters Delirium and Death or even his rare mortal friend like Hob Gadling.

American Gods

American Gods
by Neil Gaiman
read: circa 2008
Guardian 1000 Novels, Hugo Award, Nebula Award

My uncle lent me this book and I read it a decade back or so. I don't remember too much, other than the general setup: main character released from prison, wife died after (/during) having an affair, "old gods" in modern America.

Appointment in Samarra

Appointment in Samarra
by John O'Hara
read: 2019
Time 100 Novels, Modern Library #22

The novel begins with an epigraph, a short story from W. Somerset Maugham from which the title is taken. A servant, seeing Death in a crowd and believing himself marked, borrows his master's horse to ride from Baghdad to Samarra. The master confronts death, who says he only expressed surprise at seeing the servant in Baghdad, for they had an appointment later that day in Samarra. Obviously with an preface like that, someone is going to die.

One thing I couldn't figure out was the plotline with Al Grecco. He was a major character for the first two-thirds or so but his storyline didn't really seem to resolve.