OUTSTANDING BOOKS ALERT:
A quickie (not a quiche, I assure you) as I am stealing time from Jami's classroom computer in between moving books around --
I recommend that you beg, buy, or steal the following books, immediately:
1. Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino (originally published in 1978): In one word: Lordamercy!!!! This book, after a first reading, immediately catapulted into my all-time, all-genre top five novels. It's a dialogue between Kubla Khan and Marco Polo; it's a description of all the cities that Polo has visited in his travels; it's a brilliantly informed commentary on the nature of existence; it's a pocket handbook of how to write. Read this book. READ THIS BOOK!
(After reading Calvino and deciding that he would join my all-time, all-genre top five novels, I went and re-read the other four I would stick in there. Someday, if I get a wild hair, I'll give you my top five collections of poetry, top five collections of short stories, top five non-fiction works, top five dance moves, top five dead dog movies, top five toothpaste brands, etc. BACK TO THE NOVELS! In no particular order:)
2. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1969): This sad and marvelous tale of the temporal sojourner Billy Pilgrim makes me weep openly every time I read it. For my money, the greatest depiction of the chaos of wartime in the life of an individual. Is Billy crazy? Is he sane? Poot-tee-weet. (Also one of the greatest openings in novel history: "Listen: Billy Pilgrim has become unstuck in time . . .) I also adore the Tramalfadorian structure underpinning the novel. What else to describe random chaotic insanity but absolute determinism?
3. All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren (1946): A fictionalized account of the life of the despotic Huey Long, this novel is also so much more. Perhaps it is best described as a fugue about the interplay between guilt and memory, as the aptly named Jack Burden struggles to forget, then ignore, then face the inexorable past that he thinks must create his future.
4. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (1929): I happen to believe that Faulkner is the greatest novelist ever, anywhere (yes, I'm a white guy; yes, I'm from the American South, but, c'mon, have you read this dude?) Wow. Double wow. From Benjy to Quentin, is there a better account of the sheer weight of the false idealism of the antebellum South? In the face of every small Southern town, its dust and heat and idolatry and chivalry and rage and hatred and racism and values, from the fetid antediluvian swampland of southern Mississippi to the great white expanses in the cotton counties of western Tennessee, from the arid wind-hammered plains of Texas to the wet mantrapping marshes of South Carolina -- in the face of everything that the Southron holds to be righteous -- here Faulkner forces the dark underbelly of the south into the light, demanding an answer, an understanding , a RECKONING; can you stand near the hellish fires of truth, or will you wither away, slinking underbrush, collapsing into yourself and hiding behind the ancient lies once hidden by the self-same darkness, lies once so easy to support but now uneasy as if their unveiling by the firelight has somehow given a palpable, unsupportable severity to those columns that once themselves held firm the unshakable, unapologetic foundation of the "chivalrous" and "honorable" South . . .
Uh, sorry.
Got carried away, there.
5. The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester (1956 as Tyger! Tyger! in Great Britain): Okay. I refuse to apologize for any of these books. They're my top five novels, not yours, and if you want to slap me for my lack of diversity in authorial gender, race, or time period, fine. Make your own list and send it to me, and I promise to give your favorite books a try.
I also refuse to apologize for my lack of snobbishness by picking an Alfred Bester novel. This book is science-fiction, written in the 1950's by a former comic book writer and pulp hack, and happens to be one of the most entertaining and enjoyable novels I have ever read. Soooooo much sci-fi becomes instantly dated by poor anticipation or hackneyed writing, and yet this 50 year old novel reads as fresh from the page as if it were finished this morning. Gulliver Foyle, "one-hundred and seventy days dying and not yet dead," ranks as one of the greatest anti-heroes in all of literature. Mega-corporations, atomic fears, telepaths, "jaunting" from place to place, and above all else, revenge -- much like the Count of Monte Cristo, Foyle finds himself driven beyond his own capabilities by an overweening anger and a thirst for vengeance -- this book has it all. I assure you that you will not be disappointed if you try it.
Arrgh! Must go! Jami needs help! Later, peeps, and if you want to leave me your top five novels, I'd love to read something great this summer. I ask only that you restrict these responses to novels . . . poetry, short stories, and all non-fiction to come at a later date.
Go out and read something good!
