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December 2007

December 22, 2007

My year in reading, part two ...

Hamlet by William Shakespeare. One could easily make the case that Shakespeare was the greatest writer (in any language) who ever lived, and Hamlet is probably the most enduring of all his works, not simply because it was the play in which he finally mastered the soliloquy, but because it's the most puzzling. It's a work that is literally timeless: generations of writers, directors, and actors, from dozens of countries, have interpreted Hamlet's themes for their own time. (Indeed, dictator Josef Stalin thought the play was too dangerous to be performed in the Soviet Union.) Murder, corruption, incest, tyranny, madness, suicide, and a bizarre, unexplained haunting make Hamlet's world; no one--not even Hamlet himself--can be trusted. On the surface, Hamlet is a revenge tragedy, and one that is so intricately plotted that it can be easy to get lost amidst all the drama and intrigue. But the way in which Shakespeare delves so deeply into Hamlet's mind is what makes the play so disturbing. In the end, Hamlet isn't a particularly likeable character--he echoes the ancient Greeks' idea of what a hero is supposed to be--and the play itself leaves almost all of its questions unanswered, but its true power comes from its ability to make us very uneasy.

Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler. Mein Kampf is easily the worst book I've ever read, not simply because of its incessant racism and disturbing vision, but because of Hitler's browbeating tone and bombastic writing style. Sure, Hitler may have been paranoid to the point of delusion, but after reading Mein Kampf, I'm convinced that he was quite sane (which isn't to say that he was ever right). This book offers nothing by way of value--the autobiographical sections are almost devoid of imagery and, at best, questionable--but I'd still argue that it's an important book. Hitler altered the twentieth century in ways that are still incomprehensible, and Mein Kampf strips away the veneer of "the greatest generation" to give us an undiluted look at pure evil. Hitler's ideal state--a fascist prototype based on eugenics, propaganda, and a brainwashed race of Aryan superhumans--was so radical that it's easy to see why the book was dismissed upon publication. Yes, it's a book that many people would rather ignore, but it still remains a frightening document on the dangers of intolerance.

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes. The world's first modern novel still stands one of the best. The adventures of Don Quixote and his squire, Sancho Panza, are hilarious and unforgettable. Cervantes' intention was to write a book that would amuse the masses--thereby making Don Quixote the world's first pop fiction novel--but it's also surprisingly touching. Sancho is well aware of his master's foolishness, but as he says in the second part of the novel, "I can't help it. I must follow him, we are from the same village, I've eaten his bread, I love him well, he is grateful ... and above all, I'm faithful; therefore, it's quite impossible for anything to separate us except the man with the pickaxe and shovel." If there's a better novel about the bonds of friendship, I haven't read it.

December 09, 2007

My year in reading, part one ...

The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I'm sure you've heard this (or something similar) from other readers, so forgive me if I say it one more time: The Road is one of the most harrowing books I've ever read. It's a book in which not a lot happens--it tells the story of an unnamed father and his son walking down a road in post-apocalyptic America--but it has such an emotional impact that it's impossible not to come away from it without realizing that you've just read a classic. McCarthy has been compared to William Faulkner--and the comparison is certainly valid--but I think he echoes John Steinbeck more than anyone else. The Road's spare prose perfectly capture's the book's bleak atmosphere. It's a depressing read in the best sense of the word.

Only Revolutions by Mark Z. Danielewski. Last year, after reading House of Leaves, Danielewski became my new literary hero. His books offer the experimentation that literally mind-bending, and with Only Revolutions, he takes the novel form to breath-taking new heights. Whether it's seen as a love story, a road-trip novel, or language indulgence, make no mistake--Danielewski tells a beautiful, heartbreaking story about two teenagers in love, and through it all, he gives you something most novels don't: eye candy.

Ecce Homo by Friedrich Nietzsche. Sure, it may be easy to dismiss Nietzsche's philosophy on the grounds of his schizophrenia, but to do so is to deny yourself a thoroughly stimulating experience. Ecce Homo is one of the most bizarre autobiographies ever written--and one of the most amusing. With chapter titles like "Why I Am So Wise," "Why I Am So Clever," and "Why I Write Such Excellent Books," you might think Nietzsche was full of himself, but this is where the book derives much of its humor: Ecce Homo is brimming with tongue-in-cheek irony; Nietzsche dares you to contradict his assertions and dares you to think for yourself. Through it all, he proves himself as one of the greatest philosophers and iconoclasts of the modern age, not by offering all the answers, but by challenging some of the Western civilization's most treasured ideals.

(Honorable mention: The Antichrist by Friedrich Nietzsche. Forget about Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins; The Antichrist is the most bellicose criticism of Christianity ever written. Nietzsche writes with a violent passion that perfectly captures his ideal of "philosophizing with a hammer." Watching the philosopher tear Christian values to shreds is invigorating [or infuriating, if you happen to follow the subject of his contempt] and intellectually stimulating. Nietzsche had made the famous pronouncement that "God is dead," and with The Antichrist, he gleefully pisses on God's grave and backs up one of Ecce Homo's most startling lines: "I am not a man, I am dynamite.")

And there you have it, at least for the time being.

December 06, 2007

Don't forget to send in your nominations for the 2008 Tournament of Books.

December 01, 2007

If you're tired of hearing about what a clusterfuck the situation in Iraq is, this will certainly come as a breath of fresh air.

The book market has always been a favorite for international TV crews. In Saddam's days, it was the place of choice for thoughtful interviews and good English. While there, we'd often rummage through the fascinating array of new and secondhand books.

Sometimes, amid the stock-in-trade Iraqi government propaganda, we'd come across a favorite old out-of-print paperback or a must-have memento, like an elegantly illustrated book of Arab love poetry that I found one day.

After the fall of Saddam, the book market became a perfect place to test the ever-changing mood of the city. We would marvel at the quirky mix of all the new titles flooding in along with the Technicolor posters of revered Shiite leaders, forbidden under the old regime.