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Tag Archives: Paolo Coelho

173. Books Bought & Read, September 2018…

173. Books Bought & Read, September 2018…

19 bought, 9 read.

After breaking my streak with a positive net gain last month, it wasn’t even close in September. Not even 50%, (aka 2:1, proportionally speaking. Sorry, I spent the past two weeks intensely studying maths for the first time in around two and a half decades in order to pass a grad school entrance exam, which both limited my available time for pleasure reading and left me with numbers and symbols floating in front of my eyes from which I have yet to recover).

The Big Issues raised by this month’s blog: do the books I received for trading in excess copies during a vicious Bookshelf Cull count as ‘Books Bought’ for the month? And is it fair, knowing I won’t surpass my Books Bought total for the month, to not read the last few pages of a couple of novels I was nearing the end of, knowing I can then count them towards next month’s tally when I finish them on October 1st? Who knew keeping a book blog would open up such a Pandora’s Labyrinth of moral quandaries?! (And more to the point, without spellcheck who knew it was spelt ‘quandaries‘ and not ‘quandries‘?)

With slim pickings on the Books Read front, I have time and space to mention that the Books Bought column was boosted by the discovery of some beautiful covers on rereleased books. These were mainly those delightful Penguin Classic Deluxes, which I continue to hunt down faster than Pokémon in Central Park, although I only seem to be finding the 600+ page editions which are putting a significant strain on our bookshelves, (see: the complete Sherlock Holmes novels and the 50th anniversary edition of Bulgakov’s ‘The Master And Margarita,’ neither of which I may ever even read, having read them both already. But they sure look stunning on the shelf).

Following on from last month’s discovery of Tao Lin, I picked up and had a crack at his breakout novel, ‘Taipei’. Confusing, frustrating, stylistically interesting but with a lead character I completely failed to connect with, I can see why he has become both such a popular and a divisive figure, (a brief internet search immediately brought up a review from NPR containing the following: “Taipei, Lin’s newest book, is…(a)t once very bad and very good, it swings between dullness and wild, excessive beauty.” It is headlined: ‘Taipei is Lifelike – But That’s Not Necessarily A Compliment.”)

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On a completely different fictional plane, I have loved tracking down the bite-size books in Melville House’s incredible The Art of the Novella series, and this month I picked up and imbibed two more: a so-so Edith Wharton tale of marital folly, and Prosper Mérimée’s delightful ‘Carmen‘, inspiration for the opera and a thoroughly enjoyable 19th century romp around Spain featuring derring-do, men fallen from grace (for a change), and the laughing, cavalier eponymous heroine, a Roma traveller with a knack for getting whatever she wants. Highly entertaining.

The Prophet‘ was a gift from family friends which I had somehow never gotten around to reading, and there were some moving and relevant sections to this nearly century-old parable/fable (parafable?) I’m not sure the poetry is especially outstanding but, like Paolo Coelho, Gibran’s work presents something for seekers, and for every facet of their personalities at every important point of their life, which isn’t a bad way to achieve (eventual) popularity. This ‘something-for-everyone‘ nature of the book may explain why it’s not always looked upon seriously by critics.

‘Dream Cities’ was disappointing; Frankl’s holocaust-inspired memoir and exposition of his psychoanalytical method ‘Man’s Search For Meaning‘ was confusingly simultaneously depressing and uplifting; and R.Crumb’s baseball card-depictions of musical legends dating to the late 19th century was less informative than I’d hoped and simply pretty.

But my favourite book of the month was an early work by celebrated Spanish writer Javier Marías, discovered purely as it was put out by The Believer’s book publishing branch, and as I’m sure you all know by now I trust The Believer with my life, (or, if not my life, at least a significant portion of my finances). A faux-19th century travel adventure, ‘Voyage Along The Horizon‘ instead spends more time analysing the role of unreliable narrators and dissecting short story and  detective tropes than providing actual adventure, (not to mention conclusions), which the Italo Calvino fan in me loved.

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And with that, after being behind on my blogging for most of 2018, I find myself in the rare position of being up to date with my literary comings and goings, a state which I hope to maintain.

So you probably won’t hear from me again until next December…

Books Bought, September 2018

Rules Of Civility (Amor Towles)

The Joy of X: a guided tour of numbers, from one to infinity (Steven Strogatz)

The Gift: creativity and the artist in the modern world (Lewis Hyde)

You Are Not A Gadget: a manifesto (Jerome Lanier)

On Boxing (Joyce Carol Oates)

The Touchstone (Edith Wharton)

Big Sur (Jack Kerouac)

A Sentimental Journey (Laurence Sterne)

Ceremony (Leslie Marmon Silko)

McSweeney’s Quarterly, issue.51 (various)

The Book Of Other People (ed.Zadie Smith)

A Farewell To Arms (Ernest Hemingway)

The Master And Margarita (Mikhail Bulgakov)

Sherlock Holmes: the novels (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

The Absolute Sandman, Vol.II (Neil Gaiman)

The Absolute Sandman, Vol.III (Neil Gaiman)

Fragile Things (Neil Gaiman)

Carmen (Prosper Mérimée)

The Complete Fairytales (George MacDonald)

 

Books Read, September 2018 (highly recommended books in bold)

Dream Cities: seven urban ideas that shape the world (Wade Graham)

Voyage Along The Horizon (Javier Marías)

Taipei (Tao Lin)

Man’s Search For Meaning (Viktor Frankl)

Heroes Of Blues, Jazz And Country (Robert Crumb)

The Prophet (Kahlil Gibran)

*********, ***! (***** ****) (Book redacted pending future update)

Carmen (Prosper Mérimée)

The Touchstone (Edith Wharton)

 

 

 
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Posted by on December 8, 2018 in BOOKS

 

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90. ‘The Little Prince,’ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry…

90. ‘The Little Prince,’ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry…

The Little Prince,’ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Walking down streets or sitting in cafes reading, there is one thing I own which gets me involved in more book-based conversations than anything else: a now slightly tatty, faded leather book cover of ‘Le Petit Prince‘ bought in a tourist shop at the foot of Seoul Tower in South Korea around five years ago. Strangers walk past in the street with a simple “Nice!” and waitresses whose boyfriends have handmade them a gold necklace of the snake-ingested elephant go wild for it.

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I even have one friend, (who became a friend partially based on this fact), who sports a 4-inch high tattoo of the Little Prince being pulled across the night sky (and her left midriff) by stars, but she didn’t wish to have it broadcast to strangers across the world on my blog, for some reason, so you’ll just have to imagine how amazing a tattoo it is.

Le Petit Prince,‘ or ‘The Little Prince,’ for the less francophone inclined, is one of those books which you read when young and which stays with you. I won’t turn this into a review of the book, because either you’ve read it, or you can take an hour to go and read it. Some may find it a little simplistic in a Paolo Coelho’s ‘The Alchemist’ kind of way, (one reason I think you appreciate it more if you experience the book for the first time when young, like Miyazaki’s ‘My Neighbour Totoro‘ or ‘The Dark Crystal,’ the latter a film which really doesn’t stand up to re-viewing!), but for those who don’t need cute, life-affirming mottos, this little book offers plenty more.

Photo courtesy of David Burgess, and licensed under Creative Commons

Photo courtesy of David Burgess, and licensed under Creative Commons

It is the unique feel of the book which offers so much to the reader: firstly, the mix of fairly serious reality (the narrator throughout being in mortal danger after his motor breaks down in the Sahara desert ), and the fantasy world offered by a miniature person with miniature problems on a tiny planet who only cares about the simple things in life.

The illustrations, penned by the author Saint-Exupéry himself, (left), are timeless and affectionate.

Finally, the not-so-subtle symbolism of the various characters throughout the book are balanced by the underlying adorability of both the eponymous protagonist and the child which the narrator used to be. Morals are everywhere, but the basics can never be repeated enough: nature is good, (“Dessine-moi un mouton”/”Draw me a sheep”), greed and obsession are bad, you can’t always believe your eyes, and we should never, ever grow up.

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Photo courtesy of flickr user gadl and licensed under Creative Commons  

 
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Posted by on November 17, 2013 in BOOKS

 

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