Showing posts with label american literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label american literature. Show all posts

Ecology of a Cracker Childhood (The World As Home) Review

Ecology of a Cracker Childhood (The World As Home)
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this book is a must for any Southerner and for anyone interested in the environment. Though I was born and raised in Georgia I was ignorant of the ecology of the longleaf pine forests. And though I have often drive through the region described in the book I knew nothing about the people there. The book alternates between a memoir of Ray's family and upbringing and lyrical descriptions of the land in which they lived. She also tells the story of the magnificent pine forests which grew from Virginia to Mississippi and which are almost nonexistent today. There are many books today about "my childhood" but this is far superior to any I have read with the exception of Mary Karr's "The Liar's Club." It will be of interest to environmentalists and lovers of good writing alike.

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The Lost Art of Reading: Why Books Matter in a Distracted Time Review

The Lost Art of Reading: Why Books Matter in a Distracted Time
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For readers who care about where we're all going in this mad-media world of Internet highways and smart technology, this book is a necessary pit stop for refueling and refreshment.
Only 151 pages long, this totally chapterless work can be read in a sitting of three hours (as if it were one single, long paragraph), and it will not disappoint. The book is subtitled: Why Books Matter In a Distracted Time. One of the main and positive features of this work for me was the fact that the author, already a well-known critic for the "Los Angeles Times," confesses to a feeling lately (say, over the last two years) of being unable to concentrate and wonders, if it's not Alzheimer's or incipient old age, just what is happening to his brain. I completely identified with that situation and concern even though I, unlike the author, do not own a Blackberry or a Kindle. I am, just as the author describes himself-- as well as of nearly everyone today -- averse to tuning out the "buzz" that's on the Internet and in the media and am on the computer at work as well as at home.
David Ulin doesn't like to categorize books by way of fiction or non-fiction, personal or objective. He simply aims for and enjoys what is simply called "good writing." In this manner, the tale he unfolds here is both factual, literary, historical as well as personal, some vignettes touchingly involving his son, Noah. Suffice it to say Mr. Ulin has some trenchant observations to make not only about "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald but about Thomas Paine's "Common Sense" as well -- not to overlook the many writers he pulls up from the stream of words he so deftly pursues such that any reader will feel tempted to follow-up on those authors and works that are completely new to her or him.
Having covered a lot of ground that feels like "everything" that can be said about technology versus the book -- but actually isn't -- the author asserts that what reading good writing does for the reader -- unlike any other kind of technology -- is disconnect the reader from the harried noisy world of present storms and present crises and trivia and immerse her or him in a world transcending present time with others from previous ages, a world that facilitates empathy, blurring the boundaries between yourself and another, while allowing one's thoughts to gather some gravitas in the silence that follows from long bouts of concentration on the written word. He insists we need silence more than ever now. It's a kind of Wordsworthian plaint -- the world is too much with us. But he reminds us there's a solution: read good writing in the silence whenever you can.
One of the roads not undertaken in this multi-streamed river of a book full of consideration about the pros and cons of the traditional book versus electronic technology was audio book technology or the Read-to-Me feature available in many e-books -- and the cultural impact of a renewed orality about the printed word. Mr. Ulin evokes ideas about a "conversation that began in Mesopotamia ten thousand years ago," but seems to have forgotten Homer's oral impact in the process, concentrating on print and writing instead. While he tries to pluck the harp optimistically for the positive contributions of electronic media, Mr. Ulin, understandably in my opinion, argues finally to keep the art of reading books alive. I still want to know would his argument finally remain with books if he had considered the electronic orality of texts -- or paid any attention to them.
All in all, this was definitely a good read and a good piece of writing. It contains, as I've said, mentionings of writers and books I'm going to enjoy exploring further. I was so glad to find Mr. Ulin mention the writer Vardis Fisher, even if it was through a quotation by Frank Connor. As Mr. Ulin knows, good books have good writing and artfully put the reader in a "flow state" or trance from which she or he makes a self, and Vardis Fisher was just one of those writers for me. Mr. Ullin has, among others, Alexander Trocchi. Who? Read "The Lost Art of Reading" or read Trocchi's "Cain's Book." The point is -- read, in silence, good writing.

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Nox Review

Nox
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"No matter how I try to evoke the starry lad he was, it remains a plain, odd history."
More an experience than a read, "Nox" by Anne Carson splices abstraction--definitions, quotations, lessons in ancient Greek history--with the concrete specificity of family photographs, handwritten letters, and personal recollections that attempt to contain a fragile and fragmented relationship. Carson's brother, who led a transitory and difficult life, has died in Copenhagen. And now Carson, in the manner of Catallus (poem 101), must go to see her brother's widow, the city where he lived, and the church he was brought to when he died. In words and images, and in words as images, Carson creates a landscape that mirrors memory--a continuous accordion-folded page that backdrops black and white snapshots, yellowing letters, cancelled stamps, and cut-out text. Most striking are the photos that include shadows, and texts that Carson repeats, strikes out, or blurs. Also haunting is the way this collage seems so very real on the reproduced page: edges of paper-on-paper look sharp and true, or wrinkled from too much glue; staples seem raised, shiny and cold; even the reverse-embossing of handwriting forces this reader to touch and expect to feel the raised imprint of a ball-point pen, as if, in feeling, the question is asked: is this real?
Carson explains, "History and elegy are akin." In questioning, "are these staples real?" or "who was this brother?" we share in the act of asking, of composing the story and creating history. In her distilled and disjointed--yet accessible--way, Carson compels questions, collects facts--or shards of them--and assembles a beautiful, tactile, white-space filled elegy that honors a brother who, later in life, she barely knew. "You have survived it, " Carson writes, "and so you must carry it, or fashion it into a thing that carries itself." Carson has fashioned a thing that carries itself, a work of poetry and prose that stands on its own as book and non-book, object and message: an account of one's life as an extraordinary ordinary thing.


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The Bible According to Mark Twain: Irreverent Writings on Eden, Heaven, and the Flood by America's Master Satirist Review

The Bible According to Mark Twain: Irreverent Writings on Eden, Heaven, and the Flood by America's Master Satirist
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In the decades since his death, many of Mark Twain's writings have been reorganized into common themes such as protests, speeches, short stories and sketches, and full works of fiction in larger volumes. A recent welcome addition to these is The Bible According to Mark Twain, which includes diaries of Adam, Eve, and other Old Testament characters, various speculations on what the imaginary Heaven might be like (including Captain Stormfield's), some autobiographical dictations, a few pieces that appear in print for the first time, and, of course, Letters From the Earth.
It also contains too many of the editor's notes that plague most of Twain's posthumous releases. Here, notes take up 50 of the book's first 260 pages (10 more are blank). Why do editors feel compelled to insert their version of Twain's autobiography before every entry? If they must share this information with readers, they can do so at the start or the end of the book, without interrupting Twain's far superior writing. Granted, some of the details are worth knowing: Twain read Paine's Age of Reason while piloting riverboats. This helped shape his views toward Christianity. But other statements are extremely irritating: "...we have omitted the five-and-a-half page attack on the concept of the virgin birth (mistakenly referred to as the immaculate conception) because that discussion is not closely related to the writings in this volume." Yes it is! Claims like this make me wonder what else is missing. The rest of Twain's writings on religion need a book of their own, WITHOUT the gratuitous editorial comments.
I'll let Twain have the last word:
"From the beginning of time, whenever a king has lain dangerously ill, the priesthood and some part of the nation have prayed in unison that the king be spared to his grieving and anxious people (in case they were grieving and anxious, which was not usually the rule) and in no instance was their prayer ever answered. When Mr. Garfield lay near to death, the physicians and surgeons knew that nothing could save him, yet at an appointed signal all the pulpits in the United States broke forth with one simultaneous and supplicating appeal for the President's restoration to health. They did this with the same old innocent confidence with which the primeval savage had prayed to his imaginary devils to spare his perishing chief -- for that day will never come when facts and experience can teach a pulpit anything useful. Of course the President died, just the same."

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