Practice Shelf Actualization This Summer-- sincerely, Science

Summer's here, and people's summer reading recommendations are out in full force. So I thought why not add one of my own. Here it is: 

Read something good. Read something challenging. Read a classic or two.

In the world of lay book bloggers I’ve noticed some pretty vociferous opposition to the notion that people should read “good” books instead of dividing all their time between wildly popular vampire novels and the latest blockbuster S&M fantasy. Those who advocate reading the so-called classics or high-minded literary fiction often get labled as snobs for doing so. The basic argument against these people seems to be that it doesn’t matter what  folks read, as long as they are reading (which, they always fail to realize, is merely snobbery of a different sort.)

I guess I can get on board with that argument… to a point. Reading is  an essential life skill that improves the lives of those who possess it. And reading just about anything will foster that skill. But does it really not matter what  we read?

That’s like saying that eating is essential your health and wellbeing, but that it doesn’t really matter what  you eat so long as you are eating. Nevermind that a constant diet of Big Macs and Twinkie chasers (may they rest in peace!) will eventually land you in home hospice care with an oxygen tube up your nose and a nurse to administer sponge baths to the folds and crevices you can no longer reach by yourself.

I don’t begrudge anyone the hot new Dystopian Young Adult title or the occassional Epistolary Urban Fantasy Steampunk Romance, just like I don’t deprive myself of inordinate amounts of chocolate chip cookie dough or obstain from Black Raspberry Dark Chocolate Chunk ice cream. But sheesh, if that’s all your reading? (Or eating?) It’s time to recalibrate.

Now, would I rather have my kids read a crappy book, than spend the afternoon shooting heroine? Sure. No question. But would I rather have my kids read a crappy book, than spend the afternoon shooting hoops? Probably not.

And yes, this all depends on what your definition of ‘classic’ is, or what ‘good’ or ‘crappy’ mean to you in terms of books. But let’s be honest, it’s not tough to recognize challenging fiction, or a brainless beachread, when you see it. So, read something that will challenge you. Read something that has stood the test of time. Read a classic. And this isn’t me being a book snob, this is backed up by science. Check this out:

“Researchers at the University of Liverpool found that serious literature catches the reader's attention and triggers moments of self-reflection.”

"...Serious literature acts like a rocket-booster to the brain. The research shows the power of literature to shift mental pathways, to create new thoughts, shapes and connections in the young and the staid alike," Philip Davis, an English professor who worked on the study with the university's magnetic resonance centre, said.”

“...The academics were able to study the brain activity as readers responded to each word, and noticed how it 'lit up' as they encountered unusual words, surprising phrases or difficult sentence structure.”

“...The research also found poetry, in particular, increased activity in the right hemisphere of the brain, an area concerned with 'autobiographical memory', which helped the reader to reflect on and reappraise their own experiences in light of what they had read.”

“The academics said this meant the classics were more useful than self-help books.”

Who can argue with that?  Improve yourself. Improve your shelf.

Review: The Garden of Eden, by Ernest Hemingway

I don’t expect much when I pick up a posthumous work of a great author. I expect even less when it’s the fourth, and final, posthumous work of that author to find its way to publication. But I was pleasantly surprised when I finished Ernest Hemingway’s The Garden of Eden the other day.

What starts out innocently enough as a story of two newlyweds honeymooning on the post-war Riviera, quickly becomes a Fitzgeraldesque tale of an artist struggling to ply his trade with a crazy wife who is jealous of her husband’s writing. Then it veers into a sticky half-fictional situation like Hemingway experienced vacationing in the South of France with his wife Hadley, and live-in girlfriend and future-wife, Pauline Pfeiffer—only with a few important details altered to make the male character come off a little better than he did in real life.

There is lots of swimming, lots of tanning, lots of passive-aggressive dialogue, lots of mixed drinks, and lots of hair styling. Yes, that’s right, hair-styling. In the end, though, this is a book about writing. Which is why it works for me. Hemingway brilliantly works a couple short stories, and the process of writing them, into the main story of love gone sour. Though the reader never actually reads them, they see the main character of David Bourne reliving the childhood experiences on which they are based as he writes them, and therefore come to a deeper understanding of who he is as a person.

Ironically, in a story where a writer reading his own press clippings becomes a major plot point to his own detriment, Hemingway leaves a few clues that he, too, was guilty of reading his own press clippings, dropping references to his newspaperman style and his iceberg theory of writing:

“He wrote it in simple declarative sentences with all of the problems ahead to be lived through and made to come alive.”

“Finally he knew what his father had thought and knowing it, he did not put it in the story.”

“He had, really, only to remember accurately and the form came by what he would choose to leave out. Then, of course, he could close it like the diaphragm of a camera and intensify it so it could be concentrated to the point where the heat shone bright and the smoke began to rise. He knew that he was getting this now.”

He also talks through his editing process, and his conviction that the work has to marinate on its own:

“It was a very young boy’s story, he knew, when he had finished it. He read it over and saw the gaps he must fill in to make it so that whoever read would feel it was truly happening as it was read and he marked the gaps in the margin.”

“He cared about the writing more than about anything else, and he cared about many things, but he know that when he was doing it he must not worry about it or finger it nor handle it any more than he would open up the door of the darkroom to see how a negative was developing. Leave it alone, he told himself. You are a bloody fool but you know that much.”

Last of all, Hemingway puts into fiction what he must have experienced when his wife lost nearly every page of his years of hard work:

“You can write them again.” 

“No,” David told her. “When it’s right you can’t remember. Every time you read it again it comes as a great and unbelievable surprise. You can’t believe you did it. When it’s once right you never can do it again. You only do it once for each thing. And you’re only allowed so many in your life.” 

“So many what?” 

“So many good ones.”

The bottom line is that this novel is probably less interesting for the story it tells, than for the insights it gives us into the life of the author as he surveyed his 60 years and wove it into his fiction. I liked it. You might, too.

"Seldom Seen" Sleight?

One of the books I’ve recently placed a hold on at my local library is Edward Abbey’s The Monkey Wrench Gang . Not necessarily a literary classic, mind you, but I think it’s a book most people would put in the western canon. No, not thatWestern Canon , but the canon of important works set in and about the American West.

Anyhow, last night I’m reading my college alumni magazine (Go Utes) and I stumbled across this profile of the man who was the real-life inspiration for “Seldom Seen”  Smith, the ringleader of Abbey’s ragtag group of fictional environmentalist misfits. Though he’s still alive and well, retired river guide Ken Sleight isn’t spilling the beans on how much of Abbey’s tale is based on actual events. But I still get a kick out of discovering the truth behind the fiction…

The Writer's Voice: Arthur Conan Doyle

The only known recording of the Sherlock Holmes creator. He would die three years later. Fascinating stuff. He explains what bugged him about earlier detective stories, and how he changed all of that with the character of Holmes.

Is it me, or is his Scottish accent a heckuvalot nearer today’s standard American accent than the Scots we hear in the media today?

Buyer Beware: Vol. 1

This isn’t  the book you’re looking for…

Try this one instead:

Another Month in the Can

Today we pack up another month and throw it in the archives. Above are the authors we’ve covered this month, and below are the five most popular posts from that period:

• Profusion of Proverbs from Sancho Panza
• Review: Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane
• The (Literal) Snows of Kilimanjaro
• Poet’s Corner: “Consolation” by Billy Collins
• Literary Product Placement

And of course, some of the great search terms that led folks here:

• Does Dirk Pitt have a  pet?   >> We don’t know, but here’s our ode to the adventure novel, the only place we've mentioned him.
• Plot Twist in Farewell to arms  >>  from the comments of this post
• Nelson Algren  >>  Our last Short Story Club Selection.
• At the cancer clinic  >>  Ted Koozer knocks it out of the park
• Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station  >> Yep. We've covered it.
• Milkman compared to lily owens  >>  In our Links to the Past post
• Around the world in 80 days airship  >>  THERE'S NO SUCH THING !!!
• Death of a traveling salesman eudora welty or arthur miller  >>  Answer: Welty
• Vinyl  >>   Another great poem
• Proust Memory  >>  Could be this piece or this piece.

Thanks for visiting. You’re welcome back any time.

Literary Product Placement

Did you know that  clear back in the 1870s, shipping companies lobbied Jules Verne to include them by name in his novel Around the World in 80 Days ? Even in the nineteenth century, corporations saw the potential for product placement advertising in literature. 

I stumbled upon the following list on Wikipedia the other day. It’s a list of literary references for the old-fashioned breath freshener Sen-Sen, which you can still find today, I believe. I’d bet that maybe only Coca-Cola could generate a longer list than this:

• Michael Chabon references them in his novel The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.
• Toni Morrison references them in her novel The Bluest Eye.
• Zora Neale Hurston references them in her novel Their Eyes Were Watching God.
• John D. Fitzgerald references them in his novel The Great Brain.
• Betty Smith references them in her novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
• Robert Asprin has a character called "The Sen Sen Ante Kid" in his novel Little Myth Marker. The character plays Dragon Poker and always starts the game by adding a Sen Sen to the ante.
• Stephen King references them in his novel 11/22/63  as well as in his novella The Library Policeman.
• Philip Roth references them in his novel I Married A Communist.
• Ray Bradbury references them in his novel Death is a Lonely Business.
• Robert Penn Warren references a character named Sen-Sen Puckett "who chewed Sen-Sen to keep his breath sweet" in his novel All The King's Men.
• Phillip K. Dick references them in his novel Ubik.
• W. Somerset Maugham mentions them in his novel Of Human Bondage.
• John Steinbeck references them in the novel The Wayward Bus.
• Thomas Harris references them in the novel The Silence of the Lambs. "... she felt the ache of his whole yellow-smiling Sen-Sen lonesome life..."
• Christopher Bram references them in his 1988 novel Hold Tight.
• Chuck Palahniuk references them in his 2011 novel Damned.
• Margaret Laurence references them in her novel A Bird in the House.
• Lanford Wilson references them in his play Talley's Folly.
• They are also referenced in Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire.
• They are referred to in the song "Ya got trouble" in the movie and play 'The Music Man'

Summertime: No pants required

A gratuitous re-post from last year, but with some new additions:

Review: Crossing to Safety, by Wallace Stegner

I really enjoyed this one.

We’ve talked about the sentence level writing here. It’s clever, it’s funny, and for an aspiring writer of my tastes, anyway, Stegner’s prose just hurts so  good. He’ll blow my mind with an amazingly simple simile or description (“the sun lay on my back like a poultice”) that both makes the reading a pleasure, and simultaneously crushes my hopes of ever having a shred of his talent. He’s one of the few writers about whom I think we should make a much bigger deal.

Stegner was among the first graduates of the prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop, and he founded the Creative Writing Program at Stanford, teaching authors like Ken Kesey, Edward Abbey, Gordon Lish and Larry McMurtry. The man’s got a Pulitzer and a National Book Award, and yet you never hear the name of this ‘Dean of Western Writers’. As a westerner myself, I guess I feel a special affinity for him. Plus, we went to the same high school (see also Barr, Roseanne, class of ’70). Go Leopards! So there’s that.

Anyway, the book is littered with literary references— from the Bible, from the classics, from history, from novels and poems, of which I probably only grasp about 40%. But that 40% makes me feel awfully smart, and the remaining 60 just makes me want to read more. But what he really does that amazes me, is create interesting stories out of everyday lives and experiences. His narrator even addresses this issue in the text:

“There are further considerations I might raise. How do you make a book that anyone will read out of lives as quiet as these? Where are the things that novelists seize upon and readers expect? Where is the high life, the conspicuous waste, the violence, the kinky sex, the death wish? Where are the suburban infidelities, the  promiscuities, the convulsive divorces, the alcohol, the drugs, the lost weekends? Where are the hatreds, the political ambitions, the lust for power? Where are speed, noise, ugliness, everything that makes us who we are and makes us recognize ourselves in fiction?”

Without all the lurid crap that populates so much of literary fiction, he still stitches together a story about things that truly matter: marriage, friendship, family, work, adversity, history, etc.

There was  one stretch where a whole lot of backstory was jammed uncomfortably into a few pages of dialogue, but that’s about the only fault I can find with the book. You should check it out- it was his swan song, afterall:

Author Look-Alikes: Vol. 15

Ezra pound is supposed to have died years ago. But are we sure he isn’t running Cuba?

In the category of shaggy-headed, white-haired poets, I give you Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Walt Whitman:

Great smiles, bushy eyebrows, pushbroom mustaches… Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Juan Valdez are both a great credit to their Colombian homeland:

Hair chopped short and smiling eyes, here's Carson McCullers and Annette Benning:

Now, I threw the Kennedy Wildcasts “K” on Tim O’Brien’s hat. But I didn’t really have to. He’d still be a dead ringer for the gym coach in “The Wonder Years” (Robert Picardo). Neither of them seem to go anywhere without their ball caps: