Since May, I've gotten a lot of reading done. I had looked at my book shelves and realized that there were too many titles I hadn't gotten to, yet I was still buying books (someone's got to, right?). So I wanted to plow through as many as I could before buying any new ones--kind of like the way Bryan Johnson had setup that sidebar on his BOMM blog, where he had to read X number of books before he made any new purchases. I didn't set any specific goals for myself, but did aw-ight for a while there, getting through several titles already on my shelves. Then I moved closer to Magers and Quinn, found some awesome deals on Amazon--which led to the purchase of a new book shelf and the acquisition of another from one of Kate's family members--went to the Rain Taxi Book Fair, found even better deals on Amazon, and now I'll never need to get a library card for as long as I live.
BUT I've actually been reading the new books I've purchased, so that the ever-expanding "To-read" list doesn't get even more out of hand. Two of those books are Paul Harding's Tinkers, and Jonathan Franzen's Freedom. I didn't review either of these for the lit blog because I really didn't think they'd fit. While Tinkers is Harding's first book, it' been out for some time--long enough to win the Pulitzer--so I wouldn't have been getting the word out for that title. And Franzen's too big. His newest tome has been receiving glowing reviews from every major publication under the sun, which is why I think it's getting nearly as many one-star as it is five-star reviews on Amazon. Too much hype, maybe?
Anyway, I know I've reviewed a couple of books by writers who don't fit the theme of the lit blog--like Brady Udall and Brad Watson--but that's because those books were given to me by the publishers so that I would review them. That wasn't the case with Harding's or Franzen's books, but I thought I'd briefly share my take on them here.
Simply put, Tinkers is the story of a middle-aged man, George, on the verge of death, coming to terms with the strained relationship he had with his father, Howard. Beautifully written, the novel shifts back and forth between George's and Howard's points-of-view, while also jumping through time. From a prose and style standpoint, I thought Harding did a brilliant job of exploring how hazy memory can be, how time can play tricks on the mind, and which events in people's lives not only perceiver and stand the test of time, but can haunt them until their final days. In terms of plot--and even character, at times--this book wasn't very compelling. I think it's because it lacked concrete scenes. When there were scenes, they were fantastic. Such as how Howard acquired a signed first edition of The Scarlet Letter, or how he almost bit off George's fingers. I flew through these parts of the story because they were interesting and, unfortunately, too quick. More frequently, the novel consisted of characters ruminating or reading instructional passages on clocks or building birds nests. Again, these passages were well written, but I found myself fading during these stretches. I wouldn't say that Harding placed style over substance--there's definitely meaningful emotional weight in this story, and everything that's in there needs to be in there--I'm justing saying that overall, it wasn't my cup of tea. It's worth a read, and at 192 pages, it won't take up too much of your time.
There is no "simply put" with Franzen's novel. It's like Terry Crabtree said in the movie Wonderboys: "What he means is...it's difficult to distill the essence of a book sometimes..." If I were to give you a full synopsis of the book (which is 600 pages), it would end up being a 5,000 word plot summary. If I reduced it to a few sentences, as the book jacket does, the book would sound trite. I'll say this: Freedom is a dead-on portrait of an American family going through the ups and downs of the last decade. The world of the story--which mirrors the political and social climates of our world to a T--and its characters--who are directly involved with issues relating to the times--are so fully imagined that I got the feeling I was eavesdropping on the lives of real people. I had to know what was going to happen next; I craved to keep reading this book. Maybe I, too, am a victim of/sucker for all the advance hype it received. I don't think so. All I know is that I'll be reading his last novel, The Corrections, some time soon. Hopefully not before I get through more of my collection, though.
And now, for a little Rolling Stones. I heard about the new Keith Richards memoir, Life, a few weeks back and thought that I would eventually want to read it, but that doing so wasn't an urgent matter. Then I read the very approving Michiko Kakutani review, something that only happens once or twice a year, in the New York Times. And now I want to buy this book.
"I can't untie the threads of how much I played up to the part that was written for me...I think in a way your persona, your image, as it used to be known, is like a ball and chain."
Now I know Keith Richards didn't write this book himself; journalist James Fox is listed as a contributor. But apparently the memoir isn't just a collection of musings from an old rock star. Richards used old letters and diary entries from earlier in his career for material, as well. I'm thinking that Fox was more of a director, asking Richards questions so that the memoir remained focused, or transcriber for the book, maybe polishing up some of the more garbled responses to questions. If you've ever heard (and could decipher) or read interviews with Richards, he's got some pretty smart things to say. Of course he'd need a contributor; most celebrities do when writing a memoir. And I can't imagine Keith Richards sitting at a desk, typing on a computer. But I can see myself reading this book and probably will sooner than I get to The Corrections.
1 comment:
The cover of Tinkers is awesome.
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