I read an eclectic bunch of material, mostly because, with few exceptions, I pick out books just on their shape and color rather than, you know, what’s written on them. More surprising that way.
I just finished The House in Balfour-Street by Charles Dimitry, Esq., which was a nice brownish-red book with gold lettering and an interesting gold pattern on the top and bottom. It turned out to be a mystery/romance type deal written in the style of a three-part Victorian novel (probably because it was one, it was written in 1868–my copy’s from 1872). Most entertaining, even if the mystery unraveled a little too quickly, leaving the last couple chapters rather predictable. And the very end was groaningly sappy.
Next up is one of the exceptions I mentioned, The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard. It’s the first book in a series of crime dramas revolving around the wealthy Jimmy Dale and his alter ego the Gray Seal (and other aliases), who is a criminal, but he commits minor crimes for the greater good. What makes it truly great is its setting: New York in what was the present day of 1917, switching between the glorious high-life of rich and the seedy dives and opium dens of the poor.
The Secret Life of Dust; a book on design/engineering principles (whose name escapes me right now); Darwin’s Origin of Species; Dean Koontz’s The Face.
JRR Tolkein and CS Lewis: The Story of a Friendship by Colin Duriez. Touching and, for me, at any rate, nostalgic, revisiting old Oxford haunts. Inaccurate in places, but if nothing else it shows that without Lewis there would likely have been no Lord of the Rings (or the New Hobbit, as it continued to be called from 1937 (approximately when Tollers started reading it to his friends) right through to publication in 1954-55).
I just read <i>Jenny and the Jaws of Life</i> by Jincy Willett. One of her stories was in the David Sedaris-edited anthology <i>Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules</i> which I read (most of) just because I love my David. The Jincy Willett story in it (The Best of Betty) was so good that I had one of those moments where you just can’t believe what’s happening. I had to run right out and get her book. It has a giant David Sedaris blurb on the front, and then I got her novel <i>Winner of the National Book Award</i> and Augusten Burroughs has a blurb on the cover. I love Augusten too but he needs to not run around and try to be David Sedaris’ blurb shadow. It’s embarassing.
I also just finished <i>In the Company of Cheerful Ladies</i> by Alexander McCall Smith. I really adore those books. It’s such a treat when a new one comes out.
I’m quickly going through the entire Hitchhiker’s Guide trilogy, because we picked it up cheap the other night (before we only had two of them, this is the megavolume).
I just finished The well of lost plots and am starting Something rotten. Those books are brilliant, I can’t say enough.
And my current classic is The song of Roland. Also, last night I re-read Dorothy Sayers’ essay, The lost tools of learning, which sparked an entire (small) educational movement.
Just finished The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, which I can’t recommend enough (in case, you know, the Pulitzer wasn’t enough).
Am currently reading one horrible book— Twelve, about rich kids in New York (ugh. Like Kids, novelized)— and re-reading Sylvia Plath’s journals, which are excellent- witty, insightful, and so utterly ahead of her time.
I’m struggling through Danielewski’s House of Leaves. I’m not entirely sure I’ll finish it; it’s much too disjointed for my taste.
Going back to the library soon, but not started anyway: Infinite Jest (David Foster Wallace) and Clive Barker’s Imajica.
Also, a couple of books on screnwriting.
I have all the Harry Potter books, and I truly hope to re-read them before HP6 comes out, but I may not have the time. I guess I’ll settle for the movies (certainly not proper, but better than nothing).
Under the Volcano, by Malcolm Lowry. Very.goddamned.slowly. In part because it’s dense and in part because I’m really busy lately, I just haven’t gotten into it. And it’s not that long, either. I’m determined to get it done and then move on to The Way of All Flesh. But I’m not a total failure, reading-wise, since Monday I finished Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 by Hunter S. Thompson. Somebody left a copy at work - five different employees had bookmarks in it - but I read the whole thing in about four sittings.
Actually, when I look at the stuff some of the other Dopers are reading, it makes me feel like a real lightweight. But if the shoe fits, I’ll wear it, you know…
