Here are the submissions for the up coming month. The spoilers reveal Amazon.com's brief editorial review, or in the one or two cases I couldn't find one, the first user review on that site that seemed succinct but descriptive.
Explaining what William McNeill called The Rise of the West has become the central problem in the study of global history. In Guns, Germs, and Steel Jared Diamond presents the biologist's answer: geography, demography, and ecological happenstance. Diamond evenhandedly reviews human history on every continent since the Ice Age at a rate that emphasizes only the broadest movements of peoples and ideas. Yet his survey is binocular: one eye has the rather distant vision of the evolutionary biologist, while the other eye--and his heart--belongs to the people of New Guinea, where he has done field work for more than 30 years.
Watership Down has been a staple of high-school English classes for years. Despite the fact that it's often a hard sell at first (what teenager wouldn't cringe at the thought of 400-plus pages of talking rabbits?), Richard Adams's bunny-centric epic rarely fails to win the love and respect of anyone who reads it, regardless of age. Like most great novels, Watership Down is a rich story that can be read (and reread) on many different levels. The book is often praised as an allegory, with its analogs between human and rabbit culture (a fact sometimes used to goad skeptical teens, who resent the challenge that they won't "get" it, into reading it), but it's equally praiseworthy as just a corking good adventure.
The story follows a warren of Berkshire rabbits fleeing the destruction of their home by a land developer. As they search for a safe haven, skirting danger at every turn, we become acquainted with the band and its compelling culture and mythos. Adams has crafted a touching, involving world in the dirt and scrub of the English countryside, complete with its own folk history and language (the book comes with a "lapine" glossary, a guide to rabbitese). As much about freedom, ethics, and human nature as it is about a bunch of bunnies looking for a warm hidey-hole and some mates, Watership Down will continue to make the transition from classroom desk to bedside table for many generations to come.
Spawned by a nightmare that Stevenson had, this classic tale of the dark, primordial night of the soul remains a masterpiece of the duality of good and evil within us all.
Readers who are entranced by the sweeping Anglo sagas of Masterpiece Theatre will devour Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks's historical drama. A bestseller in England, there's even a little high-toned erotica thrown into the mix to convince the doubtful. The book's hero, a 20-year-old Englishman named Stephen Wraysford, finds his true love on a trip to Amiens in 1910. Unfortunately, she's already married, the wife of a wealthy textile baron. Wrayford convinces her to leave a life of passionless comfort to be at his side, but things do not turn out according to plan. Wraysford is haunted by this doomed affair and carries it with him into the trenches of World War I. Birdsong derives most of its power from its descriptions of mud and blood, and Wraysford's attempt to retain a scrap of humanity while surrounded by it. There is a simultaneous description of his present-day granddaughter's quest to read his diaries, which is designed to give some sense of perspective; this device is only somewhat successful. Nevertheless, Birdsong is an unflinching war story that is bookended by romances and a rewarding read.
The West is a pretty grim place to live, judging by the characters who populate Brady Udall's collection of short stories, Letting Loose the Hounds. Misfits, miscreants and outcasts all, his heroes stumble miserably through a desert landscape of "petrified wood and dinosaur bones," of failed marriages, dysfunctional families and their own aching loneliness in search of reconnection to the world they've lost.
What redeems this collection, and often the characters as well, is Mr. Udall's trenchant humor and sharp appreciation for the ridiculous. No one is more aware of the absurdity of his situation than the main character of "Midnight Raid" who is caught red-handed breaking into his ex-wife's house with a pygmy goat under his arm. In "Vernon" the narrator sees the irony in returning to his dead-end hometown after a semester of college: "I liked college . . . Just the idea made me ridiculously happy . . . But I had this nervous feeling I couldn't get rid of, like something in the bottom of my gut slowly eating at my insides . . . I came back to Vernon to stay." The only recourse for these lost souls are small, often funny, always sad acts of rebellion. Mr. Udall's West might not be a great place to live, but in Letting Loose the Hounds it makes for a compelling visit.
Written with calm courage in a matter-of-fact style, this searing diary is one of the fullest, most shocking accounts yet of the Soviet prison-camp system. Rewarded for his work as a communist in his native Austria and in Yugoslavia, Stajner was sent to the U.S.S.R. to run a print shop in 1932. Four years later, the victim of a Stalinist purge, he was sentenced to an initial 10 years in Siberian prisons, then to another 10. His journal recreates the regimentation, irrationality, thought control and sadism of the Gulag system. The reader learns of nuns murdered by NKVD soldiers, harems of women prisoners, executions committed in assembly line fashion, the mass slaughter that accompanied Soviet collectivization of farming. Now living in Yugoslavia, Stajner believes his ordeal was the fault of Stalinism and not of true socialism. His remarkable firsthand account stands as a condemnation of an unfree society.
Copyright 1988 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Eco, an Italian philosopher and best-selling novelist, is a great polymathic fabulist in the tradition of Swift, Voltaire, Joyce, and Borges. The Name of the Rose, which sold 50 million copies worldwide, is an experimental medieval whodunit set in a monastic library. In 1327, Brother William of Baskerville arrives to investigate heresy among the monks in an Italian abbey; a series of bizarre murders overshadows the mission. Within the mystery is a tale of books, librarians, patrons, censorship, and the search for truth in a period of tension between the Papacy and the Holy Roman Empire. The book became a hit despite some obscure passages and allusions. This deftly abridged version, ably performed by Theodore Bikel, retains the genius of the original but is far more accessible. Foucault's Pendulum, Eco's second novel, is a bit irritating. The plot consists of three Milan editors who concoct a series on the occult for an unscrupulous publishing house that Eco ridicules mercilessly. The work details medieval phenomena including the Knights Templar, an ancient order with a scheme to dominate the world. Unfortunately, few listeners will make sense of this failed thriller. The Island of the Day Before is an ingenious tale that begins with a shipwreck in 1643. Roberta della Griva survives and boards another ship only to find himself trapped. Flashbacks give us Renaissance battles, the French court, spies, intriguing love affairs, and the attempt to solve the problem of longitude. It's a world of metaphors and paradoxes created by an entertaining scholar. Tim Curry, who also narrates Foucault's Pendulum, provides a spirited narration. Ultimately, libraries should avoid Foucault's Pendulum, but educated patrons will form an eager audience for both The Name of the Rose and The Island of the Day Before.
Art Spiegelman's "Maus: A Survivor's Tale" is a unique and unforgettable work of literature. This two-volume set of book-length comics (or "graphic novels," if you prefer) tells the story of the narrator, Artie, and his father Vladek, a Holocaust survivor. "Maus" is thus an important example of both Holocaust literature and of the graphic novel. The two volumes of "Maus" are subtitled "My Father Bleeds History" and "And Here My Troubles Began"; they should be read together to get the biggest impact.
Artie is a comic book artist who is trying to create art that is meaningful, not just commercial. As the two volumes of "Maus" unfold, he gradually learns the full story of his father's history as a Jewish survivor of the World War II Holocaust. There is a complex "book within the book" motif, since the main character is actually writing the book that we are reading. This self-referentiality also allows Spiegelman to get in some satiric material.
The distinguishing conceit of "Maus" involves depicting the books' humanoid characters as having animal heads. All the Jews have mice heads, the Germans are cats, the Americans dogs, etc. It is a visually provocative device, although not without problematic aspects. To his credit, Spiegelman addresses some of the ambiguities of this visual device in the course of the 2 volumes. For example, Artie's wife, a Frenchwoman who converted to Judaism, wonders what kind of animal head she should have in the comic.
"Maus" contains some stunning visual touches, as well as some truly painful and thought-provoking dialogue. Vladek is one of the most extraordinary characters in 20th century literature. As grim as the two books' subject matter is, there are some moments of humor and warmth. Overall, "Maus" is a profound reflection on family ties, history, memory, and the role of the artist in society.
Danielewski's eccentric and sometimes brilliant debut novel is really two novels, hooked together by the Nabokovian trick of running one narrative in footnotes to the other. One-the horror story-is a tour-de-force. Zampano, a blind Angelino recluse, dies, leaving behind the notes to a manuscript that's an account of a film called The Navidson Report. In the Report, Pulitzer Prize-winning news photographer Will Navidson and his girlfriend move with their two children to a house in an unnamed Virginia town in an attempt to save their relationship. One day, Will discovers that the interior of the house measures more than its exterior. More ominously, a closet appears, then a hallway. Out of this intellectual paradox, Danielewski constructs a viscerally frightening experience. Will contacts a number of people, including explorer Holloway Roberts, who mounts an expedition with his two-man crew. They discover a vast stairway and countless halls. The whole structure occasionally groans, and the space reconfigures, driving Holloway into a murderous frenzy. The story of the house is stitched together from disparate accounts, until the experience becomes somewhat like stumbling into Borges's Library of Babel. This potentially cumbersome device actually enhances the horror of the tale, rather than distracting from it. Less successful, however, is the second story unfolding in footnotes, that of the manuscript's editor, (and the novel's narrator), Johnny Truant. Johnny, who discovered Zampano's body and took his papers, works in a tattoo parlor. He tracks down and beds most of the women who assisted Zampano in preparing his manuscript. But soon Johnny is crippled by panic attacks, bringing him close to psychosis. In the Truant sections, Danielewski attempts an Infinite Jest-like feat of ventriloquism, but where Wallace is a master of voices, Danielewski is not. His strength is parodying a certain academic tone and harnessing that to pop culture tropes. Nevertheless, the novel is a surreal palimpsest of terror and erudition, surely destined for cult status. (Mar.)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
This is quite a first novel. The ending is revealed at its mysterious beginning; exotic line breaks and poetic punctuation put off at first but gradually become the best way to tell the tale; the Maori vocabulary is interwoven with contemporary British, Australian, and American idioms; and the New Zealand sea- and landscape vibrate under fresh perception. Hulme shifts narrative points of view to build a gripping account of violence, love, death, magic, and redemption. A silverhaired, mute, abused orphan, a laborer heavy with sustained loss, and a brilliant intro spective recluse discover, after enormous struggle through injury and illness, what it means to lose and then regain a family. No wonder The Bone People won the Pegasus Prize. Highly recommended.
This absorbing account by a young man who, as a boy of 12, gets swept up in Sierra Leone's civil war goes beyond even the best journalistic efforts in revealing the life and mind of a child abducted into the horrors of warfare. Beah's harrowing journey transforms him overnight from a child enthralled by American hip-hop music and dance to an internal refugee bereft of family, wandering from village to village in a country grown deeply divided by the indiscriminate atrocities of unruly, sociopathic rebel and army forces. Beah then finds himself in the army—in a drug-filled life of casual mass slaughter that lasts until he is 15, when he's brought to a rehabilitation center sponsored by UNICEF and partnering NGOs. The process marks out Beah as a gifted spokesman for the center's work after his "repatriation" to civilian life in the capital, where he lives with his family and a distant uncle. When the war finally engulfs the capital, it sends 17-year-old Beah fleeing again, this time to the U.S., where he now lives. (Beah graduated from Oberlin College in 2004.) Told in clear, accessible language by a young writer with a gifted literary voice, this memoir seems destined to become a classic firsthand account of war and the ongoing plight of child soldiers in conflicts worldwide.
Some failures lead to phenomenal successes, and this American nurse's unsuccessful attempt to climb K2, the world's second tallest mountain, is one of them. Dangerously ill when he finished his climb in 1993, Mortenson was sheltered for seven weeks by the small Pakistani village of Korphe; in return, he promised to build the impoverished town's first school, a project that grew into the Central Asia Institute, which has since constructed more than 50 schools across rural Pakistan and Afghanistan. Coauthor Relin recounts Mortenson's efforts in fascinating detail, presenting compelling portraits of the village elders, con artists, philanthropists, mujahideen, Taliban officials, ambitious school girls and upright Muslims Mortenson met along the way. As the book moves into the post-9/11 world, Mortenson and Relin argue that the United States must fight Islamic extremism in the region through collaborative efforts to alleviate poverty and improve access to education, especially for girls. Captivating and suspenseful, with engrossing accounts of both hostilities and unlikely friendships, this book will win many readers' hearts.
As the Dalai Lama observes in this wise and humble book, dialogue between scientists and those interested in spirituality is important because science is not neutral; it can be used for good or ill, and we must approach scientific inquiry with compassion and empathy. Similarly, a spirituality that ignores science can quickly become a rigid fundamentalism. Sometimes the Dalai Lama discovers similarities between the two fields. For example, Einstein's idea that time is relative dovetails neatly with Buddhist philosophical understandings of time. Still, His Holiness does not accept all scientific thinking as holy writ: though he is intrigued by scientific stories of origins, like the Big Bang theory, Buddhism holds that the universe is "infinite and beginningless." The penultimate chapter brings ethical considerations to bear on technological advancements in genetics. The Dalai Lama gently suggests that although parents who select certain genetic traits for their children may intend to give their children a leg up, they may in fact simply be capitulating to a social pressure that favors, say, boys over girls or tall people over short. He also cautions that we do not know the long-term consequences of genetically modifying our crops. In fact, it is disappointing that the Dalai Lama devotes only 18 pages to these urgent and complex topics. Perhaps this prolific author has a sequel in the works.
Iacocca, the bestselling author and former president of Ford and Chrysler, is back to sound a howl of anger against the sad state of leadership in the U.S. today. Iacocca starts with a rundown of sins committed by George W. Bush and his administration, and then moves on to criticize the American auto industry-naturally, he's furious over over the sale of Chrysler to Daimler-Benz. Along the way, Iacocca rails against the lack of leadership in vital national concerns such as health care, open markets and energy policy. Iacocca may not have a whole lot new to say, but he is always engaging, even when spinning his wheels over the current crop of presidential hopefuls or recommending that Congress take a year off from enacting laws or spending money. The book's strength lies in Iacocca's emotional honesty, which shines when he details the reasons he passed on a Presidential run, how he felt when his wife died and his frustration at the poor decisions he's made during his retirement (fessing up to voting for Bush in 2000 and handpicking the executive who sold Chrysler to the Germans). Iacocca is a genial person to spend time with, but his insights no longer carry the weight that made his autobiography, Iacocca, a runaway bestseller.
I personally would like to stay non-fiction for this, but since I said nothing about that to begin with, I don't think it's fair to knock off all the fiction submissions (plus, alot of them look damned good).
Maus wasn't really submitted by Louis per se, but I threw it in there because the write up was interesting on amazon. Consider it my suggestion in case Louis marches in here asking, 'Hey, what's that doing in the poll?'
That said, I haven't really made my own mind up. Alot of these books look excellent, so I'll prolly wait a day or two. Voting ends in three days, by the way. Feel free to vote and participate whether you were in the initial thread or not, the more the merrier!
Hopefully most of these books will be available in the reader's language of choice. The ones that have made best seller list shouldn't be a problem, if not too old, but any obscure ones might. A nice opening list, it's hard to just choose one. eenie meenie, minee, moe...
Last edited by Hosakawa Tito; 06-25-2007 at 23:22.
Reason: spelling
"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." *Jim Elliot*
I'm usually not really into graphic novels, and I hesitated to nominate Maus. But now that I think about it, Maus would be actually be perfect. I'll plead my case:
-As a comic book, it has a low entry-level. So we should generate some interest in the Oprole Winfrey book club straight away.
-Unlike most commix, it is actually work of great literary quality.
-It should be readily available, it is a sort of classic.
-It is not 934 pages long.
-It is a narration of a non-fictional event, non-fiction in an unusual literary format.
-Everybody here in the backroom is interested in the subject manner, from whatever angle: Holocaust, Jewishness, father-child relationships, history. It should make for interesting conversation matter.
-The writer uses language to great effect, especially in the way the Polish Jew speaks American. But it is not Ulyssus, the nuances of the language are not lost on non-native speakers here, which again makes this book low-entry level.
-Its main character is a European Jew who emigrated to America, living in Long Island. So it should have broader appeal than, say, West-Finnish peasant customs from 1850-1853.
And lastly, it is simply a really good book. Brief Excerpts.
Anything unrelated to elephants is irrelephant
Texan by birth, woodpecker by the grace of God
I would be the voice of your conscience if you had one -Brenus
Bt why woulf we uy lsn'y Staraft - Fragony
Not everything blue and underlined is a link
I've been meaning to read Maus for a very long time now, so I voted for that. Thinking about it, Watchmen would be another great comic to do. Perhaps I'll nominate it next month.
On the subject of slightly outre graphic novels-and I'm sorry for being a bit off-topic here-has anyone read Palestine? Is it any good?
Last edited by Big King Sanctaphrax; 06-25-2007 at 23:48.
Co-Lord of BKS and Beirut's Kingdom of Peace and Love.
Watchmen is something I've been curious about for ages, nice idea for next month.
I went with Maus, too. The last book Louis recommended (American Vertigo, definately worth picking up, for anyone curious) was one of the most interesting books I've read in the last few years, so I'll trust his opinion again. A graphic novel will be ideal for my long weekend in Vegas that's coming up. Should be too hung over and tired during the day to worry about looking like a nerd reading a graphic novel poolside.
I voted for Seven Thousand Days in Siberia because...well, I'm in a Russia-phase currently and I never heard much about that topic anyway. If it's not available in Deutsch(and it seems like it isn't), I can read it in English as well.
Those are all great titles, and once one is selected for July, I think we ought to consider throwing them back up (plus any other brilliant ones that get suggested additionally) for August.
G, G, & Steel was my original suggestion, and I still heartily recommend it to my fellow backroomers, as a plausible alternative to standard historical accounts of western civ, and why it has emerged as the current top dog - and how precarious that perch may be, for any civilization.
But...
I personally wanna sink my teeth into Maus, for all the reasons Louis mentioned.
And I wouldn't mind sticking with graphic novels for a few months after that. They're quick reads, character development comes about almost exclusively through dialog and implied action (vs strict expository narration), and it kinda suits this group of 'gamers interested in politics and the human condition' we've accidentally assembled here in the org backroom.
Plus, they're usually under $20. A consideration for our students, and gamers who spend $50+ on games.
The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the forces of the Crown. It may be frail; its roof may shake; the wind may blow through it; the storm may enter; the rain may enter; but the King of England cannot enter – all his force dares not cross the threshold of the ruined tenement! - William Pitt the Elder
I've been meaning to read Maus for a very long time now, so I voted for that. Thinking about it, Watchmen would be another great comic to do. Perhaps I'll nominate it next month.
On the subject of slightly outre graphic novels-and I'm sorry for being a bit off-topic here-has anyone read Palestine? Is it any good?
Joe Sacco's "Palestine" is great... Joe Sacco's works are usually great.
"Les Cons ça ose tout, c'est même à ça qu'on les reconnait"
Kentoc'h Mervel Eget Bezañ Saotret - Death feels better than stain, motto of the Breton People. Emgann!
Joe Sacco's "Palestine" is great... Joe Sacco's works are usually great.
You know, I read both Palestine and his Bosnian book, and I was underwhelmed by both. Can't really say why, but there was something just not there both on the journalism and the storytelling level.
Looks like we're deadlocked with hours to go. I really like both options, but 7,000 Days in Siberia will take me about 7,000 days to get from an online bookstore, but Maus I already have on hold at my closest Barnes and Nobles.
Shall we have a run off? Or is there a few that want to change their vote? I know from the chatroom there's at least one who's somewhat iffy.
Part of me is being very selfish here, I have a plane to catch at 5:45 EST tomorrow, so I'd love to swing by the bookstore and pick up my reserved copy of Maus I before I fly, but the 7,000 Days in Siberia has an interesting enough write-up where I don't mind too much in waiting a few weeks for my copy and hacking through it with you guys.
All in all, just asking for your two cents now; the best way to go here is to have as many interested Orgahs as possible involved, so speak up and help decide for us a book for July.
Excellent suggestions. I will sit back and wait to see what others suggest. I would prefer to read something new so I am hoping Watership Down and Name of the Rose don't win but I hope we end up reading fiction at some stage.
We all learn from experience. Unfortunately we don't all learn as much as we should.
Looks like we're deadlocked with hours to go. I really like both options, but 7,000 Days in Siberia will take me about 7,000 days to get from an online bookstore, but Maus I already have on hold at my closest Barnes and Nobles.
I don't know, looks like the 7000 days are really hard to get, then again, I was hoping to read something new.
Here in Naziland we discussed the thematics of WW2 to such a great extent that I don't really feel like reading another book about it right now.
I see no one has voted for "Name of the Rose". Probably for the best. I read it some time ago (after seeing the movie, actually). The story line is good, but the religious theory tangents kill the flow. I got to the point where I would read, hit a tangent, then flip a couple of pages and continue. Tough to get through, but it might be better now that I'm older.
If I werent playing games Id be killing small animals at a higher rate than I am now - SFTS
Si je n'étais pas jouer à des jeux que je serais mort de petits animaux à un taux plus élevé que je suis maintenant - Louis VI The Fat
"Why do you hate the extremely limited Spartan version of freedom?" - Lemur
Hey Drone, I kind of disagree about Name of the Rose. I felt as though the extended theology riffs were essential to the story. These were guys who lived, breathed and died for religion, and the absurdity and self-referential nature of their thinking was a major point of the characterization and plot. Remember, the whole reason all of those groups were converging on the abbey was to hold a life-and-death debate about whether or not Jesus Christ owned his own clothes.
I think if you re-read it now, you'd get a kick out of the multi-page theological excursions. They're not in the book by accident.
P.S.: I think a run-off election for the top three or four books would be appropriate.
I voted for Seven Thousand Days in Siberia because...well, I'm in a Russia-phase currently and I never heard much about that topic anyway. If it's not available in Deutsch(and it seems like it isn't), I can read it in English as well.
I'm pretty sure that it is. The writer was Austrian. I'm not sure if the original was in serbo-croatian or german.
Anyway, I'm really glad a lot of people are interested in the book. It is really great, but it isn't well known. Glad to be of help to my fellow Orgahs...
I really hope Seven Thousand Days in Siberia doesn't win as Amazon UK doesn't have it in stock, and the used sellers are charging about fifteen quid for it.
Co-Lord of BKS and Beirut's Kingdom of Peace and Love.
July's Book (poll)
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eenie meenie, minee, moe...
Re: July's Book (poll)
I should have voted for Maus.
Originally Posted by Sooh
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