The Reading Plan: 10 Points for 2010

Leveling up from 2009, I will:

1. read a total of 70 books this year
2. complete the A to Z challenge
   
3. read at least 6 classics, guided by Italo Calvino's Why Read the Classics
4. read all FFP book discussion assignments
5. read at least 2 books on writing (Margaret Atwood's, Stephen King's, etc.)
   
6. read at least 5 travel/ travel writing books
7. finally read 100 Years of Solitude
8. read at least 3 biographies
9. blog at least 50 posts here, and
10. read the bible slowly, more deeply studying it book by book

That's the plan, Stan. (old Sesame Street allusion that dates me.)

And, hey, this ties in with Jenny Loves to Read's Challenge.

I Flipped the Pages of Doris Lessing's The Grandmothers

My copy:

Hardbound

ISBN: 0060530103

Bought: August 7, 2008

Read: between May to November 2009

311 pages

My interest in fiction has always been that of a reader. I've never dared to analyze the art and science of fiction. In my brief, limited, and safe writing career, I've focused on the known -- on the formulaic and not-too-demanding field of business writing.

But Doris Lessing has opened a dangerous, little porthole to wander in and wonder about that thing called fiction writing. Don't be alarmed. I linger far from the possibility of birthing a novel from the depths of my bowels; no, please, no. It's just that Lessing has made me wonder how one can write so tautly with no tinge of superfluity. How one can conjure images and flesh out ideas with language so well thought of. So intelligent. But raw with base human emotions. Who writes like that?

Lessing does. And I can only bite my lip in envy.

The Grandmothers is the carrier story in a collection of 4 short novels. That's probably the thing going against the book; the novels are too short. Each of them can be developed into full blown books that can eventually be developed into full blown major motion pictures. But that is the beauty of this book -- it gives you just enough to chew on, without overexplaining. The short story quality of it that leaves you a little bit unsatisfied reassures you that this book will not become all that popular and you're one of those lucky enough to be in on the secret.

The Grandmothers is an almost incestuous, but certainly scandalous, story of two women. Two golden, beautiful women who fall in love with their golden, beautiful selves. When their lives turn out to be less than the perfection they worked so hard to make it to be, they shut out the world, look within the pocket-sized, controllable world covered by their golden halo, and love only those who belong to that perfect circle -- each other's son. Golden, beautiful boys who fall in love with their older female mirrors too.

Lessing writes in a way that casts no judgment. The reader is left to make her own. To be mesmerized by such a fantastic premise, or to say ewww and be morally offended -- your choice. I felt a little bit of both. The story does not end well for the grandmothers and their sons. Which is probably well and good.

The second story, Victoria and the Staveneys, struck me as somewhat ordinary. But I suspect it is a limitation of my ability to understand the nuances more than a limitation of Lessing's storytelling. Somewhere in there are messages on race, tolerance, hypocrisy, poverty, privilege, socialism, communism, and all sorts if isms. They escape me at the moment. Okay, maybe a very long moment.

I am torn between the first and the third as my favorite of the collection. The Reason for It, classified by reviews as science fiction, is an all too real account of civilization. It is a story about the conflicts between new and old, between progress and tradition. The story is told from the perspective of the old and traditional who whines about a dying culture. And so if one were to take the side of the storyteller, one would ache at how the world has regressed instead of progressed. How art suffers and knowledge is mocked as the newfangled becomes the new standard of what is good, beautiful, and right. And culture disintegrates and society is transformed into a sad, shallow shadow (alliteration unintended) of its former glory.

This is probably the most preachy of the stories. It talks about the emptiness of beauty when it is unmatched, unsubstantiated by a fine nature and a good mind.

It is also the most thought provoking. I have visions of throwing this to my book club friends who would act like frenzied alligators at feeding time as they apply every nosebleed inducing framework to analyze this. Shhh, I won't tell them about it.

The collection ends with A Love Child. A bit predictable. On the side of sappy. And the most likely to be made into a movie starred by Ben Affleck. Which is not to say it is shallow because it is loaded with meaning and still beautifully written.

It's been months since I finished the book. And I'm now over the fiction-writing itch. But I'm not over Doris Lessing yet.

I Flipped the Pages of Markus Zusak's The Book Thief

The Book Thief
by Markus Zusak
ISBN: 0-375-83100-2
Hardbound
556 pages
My copy
Bought: September 22, 2008 from National Book Store, SM Manila for PhP200
Read: January 2009


Markus Zusak couldn't quite make up his mind if he wanted this novel to be a heart tugging tearjerker or a charming piece of whimsy. So he did both. Alternately.

When it's being whimsical, the reader awwws and ooohs and aaahs and falls in love with Liesel Meminger, feisty, kindhearted, intelligent, and funny. The relationship between her and golden haired Rudy Steiner has got to be the best love story I've ever encountered in a long time, maybe ever.

When it's tugging at your heart, it makes you despise war and prejudice while being awed by how pure goodness can happen against a backdrop of evil. Your heart breaks at the losses and shame Liesel has to deal with.

Her being of Aryan descent saved her from an acid shower, but didn't spare her the terrors of war and an evil rule. At the start of the novel, Liesel loses her brother (by death) and her mother (by disappearance). Her foster parents, who live in the poor side of town, subsist on very little but manage to lavish her with love. Mr. Hubermann's love more obvious, softer than Mrs. Hubermann's brash, savage affection, which frankly borders on abusive.

The appearance of Jewish Max Vanderburg spikes their lives with drama and danger, but also knits their family closer, brings out the good in Mrs. Hubermann, and intensifies Liesel's love for books.

Books -- one of the elements that make this story even more appealing. The lengths that Liesel goes through to steal books, her fascination with the Mayor's library, the power of words channeled by Max Vanderburg as he tells his own story -- I can relate. Zusak cannot fail but endear himself with the book nuts who read this.

All the events are narrated by Death. Cheeky. Sarcastic. Tortured. Death without the scythe. Warm. Compassionate. He's just doing his job.

Zusak uses bullet points and asides as a helpful devise to add meaning to the story. Sometimes the writing borders on gimmicky. Some parts are predictable.

Much of its predictability is also intentional. Zusak is his own worst spoiler. He shifts from the linear flow and goes fast forward to the future to warn you of pending doom. So you brace yourself for the worst. And when the worst does come, Zusak delivers the drama tersely, quickly. And just as your eyes brim with tears, he shifts his tone and gets charming and funny again. So if there's anything that I hate about the book, it's that I never get to a full 5-hanky bawl. And I so wanted to cry. I want my money back.

Okay, I didn't get my money's worth of tear duct purgation. Nevertheless, I loved The Book Thief. If the author was pandering to my sentimentality, well, it worked. This is fine story telling. This is a young adult book that adults can appreciate. It's hard to pick up another novel after reading this as visions of the book thief still lingers.