Wednesday, February 19, 2020

Read With Me! Some recent opinion pieces.




All the Gallant Men


            The One Book One Nebraska selection for 2020 is All the Gallant Men by Donald Stratton with Ken Gire. Stratton originally hailed from Red Cloud, Nebraska, and he was one of the survivors of the Pearl Harbor bombing of the U.S.S. Arizona. Until very recently, he was one of a handful of survivors still with us, but, sadly, Stratton passed away on February 15, 2020. I’m so grateful he took the time a few years ago to collaborate with Gire to share his story before it was too late.
            What a read! I couldn’t put it down.
            Nonfiction isn’t my go-to reading choice, and when I do happen to read a nonfiction book, it can be a bit of slog for me to get through it. So, when I say that I couldn’t put this book down, that means it was truly great – in fact, it was so great that it had me riveted to my seat the two days I spent reading it.
            During that time, I often got up to share a segment with my boyfriend because he has been to the memorial in Pearl Harbor. Finally, I simply told him that he’d have to read it when I was done with it because it was such a great read. He did, and, just as I had done while reading it, he shed some tears. When you read it, and I certainly hope you do read it, have a few tissues handy.
            Stratton shares his personal opinions about things that happened prior to the bombing and during the United States’ involvement in the war afterwards. I enjoyed the perspective of someone who was so intimately touched by so many aspects of World War II. He was severely burned in the bombing and had to convalesce for a long time; afterwards, he returned to Red Cloud as a civilian but soon re-enlisted and saw a lot of action at sea, including the Japan’s surrender.
            His life after the war was eventful and interesting, too, and he spent time working as a deep-sea diver in different capacities and in various locales. He also married and had a family, and he spent his retirement years living in Colorado. He wrote that his final resting spot will be back in Red Cloud and not in the U.S.S. Arizona where other survivors have opted to be interred after their deaths.
            The photos and the map of Pearl Harbor that are included in the book really helped me to visualize and better understand the strategic mistakes that led up to bombing. After years of hearing about what happened in Hawaii on that fateful day in 1941, I finally have a much better grasp of what transpired there and why. This book would make for an excellent teaching tool in history classes because it puts the reader right in the action, but it also humanizes everything and paints a very poignant portrait of loss and the impact that loss has on those left to mourn it.
            Read this book, and savor every little bit of it – the Prologue, the quotes that begin each chapter, the Writer’s Postscript, the photographs, the heart-wrenching journal entries of a sister who lost a brother on the ship, the transcripts of some military communications, the story itself, and so much more. This particular One Book One Nebraska selection is a book not just for this state but for the entire country.



The Edge of Sadness



With thirty-five of the Pulitzer Prize winners of fiction remaining for me to read, I’m getting closer to completing my goal of reading them all. I just finished reading the 1962 winner, The Edge of Sadness, by Edwin O’Connor. It was a pleasant read but also a bit of an undertaking for a few reasons.
First, this novel is 640 pages long, so it can’t be read easily in a short amount of time. Additionally, there are only twelve long chapters (chapter six is 109 pages!) within those 640 pages, and there is seldom a clear or logical stopping place, so putting the book down and coming back to it later makes for a disjointed reading experience. I have no beef with long books – in fact, I’m quite fond of them – however, I do have a problem with excessively long chapters that can’t be easily read in one sitting.
Secondly, O’Connor was very fond of ellipses at the end of paragraphs (there are three instances of them on pages 148-9 alone). The novel is narrated by Hugh Kennedy, a Catholic priest, who, in turn, is fond of using expressions of uncertainty like “I suppose,” “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to,” “I assumed,” and many others; so the overuse of ellipses throughout the story along with Kennedy’s equivocal approach to telling his story makes for a lackluster read at times. At other times, the story clips along a bit and . . . – hopefully you get the point (and the slight joke I just made).
Thirdly, there’s not much of a plot, per se. It’s simply about Kennedy reconnecting with the Carmody family for a few months. The Carmodys and he have a history. He was good friends with Helen, a woman he might have married if he hadn’t had the calling to become a priest, and with John, Helen’s brother who also became a priest. Their controlling father, Charlie, brings Kennedy back among his family for a very selfish reason. That and something unfortunate that happens to John are the only two dramatic plot points of the novel. 
Loyola Classics took this from its out-of-print obscurity and republished it in 2005. Loyola Press only prints books that relate to the Catholic faith. I’m not Catholic; however, I’ve long been intrigued by the monastic or even semi-monastic lifestyle, so I found it extremely interesting to get inside the head of a priest. Even though Kennedy hemmed and hawed a lot as he told his story, his voice was incredibly unique, authentic, and befitting of a priest. However, he’s also a human being with foibles and one pretty serious problem, so I really enjoyed seeing someone who is so often placed on a pedestal written in a relatable fashion. In fact, Kennedy himself says, “I don’t think many people know very much about priests . . . how priests live from day to day, how they fill in their idle hours.” I agree.
Despite the things I’ve mentioned that might keep some readers from attempting this novel, The Edge of Sadness won the Pulitzer because it’s well-written and contains some truly beautiful sentences with insights into human nature. It’s a great book for someone who likes to savor what she’s reading and who is patient. Ultimately, because I am both of those things, I enjoyed this book, but I would have a hard time recommending it to many others.



Preference of Person


            When it comes to reading books, serious readers have several preferences they employ --consciously or not -- when it comes to enjoying what they read. One of these involves the narrator of the book and whether that narration is told in first or third person.
            I recently discussed this topic with some young writers and then spent some time thinking about it myself. When reading a book, I don’t have a strong preference; I simply want the narration to be understandable. However, as a writer, I firmly sit on the third-person narration side.
            I perused all the Pulitzer winners of fiction to see where the award-winning authors tend to lie, and I found that just under one-third of the books have first-person narrators while a smidge over two-thirds contain third-person narration. I doubt the narration style had any strong bearing on whether each book won the prize, but it made for an interesting study on my part.
            There’s a popular trend for writers to use what’s called unreliable first-person narrators, and some of those books have done very well. A few of the recent bestsellers have been Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon, and The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins. Many would argue that every first-person narrator is unreliable simply because that person can only tell the story from his or her perspective, so there is no way for the narrator to fully understand all that happens in the story – thus, he or she isn’t to be completely trusted. While this is true to a certain extent, some authors choose to make their first-person narrators particularly unreliable.
I’m not a huge fan of this type of narrator because I want to immerse myself in a story and believe what I’m being told. I think this is why I prefer to write using third-person narration; however, I don’t like to write from an omniscient perspective. I use what is called third-person limited, which means that the story is told only from one person’s perspective, but the author can essentially read that person’s thoughts and share them with the reader.
Third-person omniscient narration is enjoyable to read because it lets us in on everyone’s perspective, but if you want a little bit of mystery without the unreliability that often comes with first-person narration, then third-person limited is for you. Sometimes, writers will use third-person limited, but they will shift from character to character via chapters; this technique is often used with first-person narrators, too, where one chapter is told from one main character’s point of view while the next is from another’s.
I’d guess that many readers don’t really give a lot of conscious thought to whether they prefer first or third person when it comes to who’s narrating their favorite books as long as the stories are good and well-told. However, I believe that, if you occasionally take the time to notice the techniques the author used to create such a spell-binding tale, you can also appreciate the story for the piece of art it is.


             
Reading Resolution 2020



Here we are at the very beginning of the year 2020 with 366 reading days (it’s a leap year) stretched out before us. The only new year’s resolution I make centers around books, both the quantity and the quality of those I plan to read over the span of a year.
            In 2019, for the very first time since starting the yearly trend of aiming to read at least 50 books, I surpassed my goal and almost finished 60 books before the year ended yesterday. In fact, I had reached the magic number of 50 in October. Usually, I’m scrambling over Christmas break to read as much as possible in the hopes of meeting my goal.
            In the online book clubs I follow, I often see the merits of setting reading goals debated, and fellow readers seem firmly committed either to being reading goal setters (like me) or to being readers who don’t keep track at all of what they read. In fact, I’ve read a few rather rude comments directed toward people who set reading goals by those who don’t in which we goal setters have been ridiculed for apparently sucking the joy out of reading in our single-minded pursuit of reaching an arbitrary number of books.
            While I can understand (to a point) these comments, I’d like to argue the benefits of setting reading goals and, hopefully, reaching them. First, there is a simple joy that comes from making a goal and striving to attain it, no matter what that goal is. For readers, that goal could entail reading a certain number of books, reading all the books by a certain author or in a series, reading books across genres or centered solely on one type such as the classics, or it could even be to read more books than they managed to read the previous year.
            Second, if you set a reading goal, then you probably will track your reading. Ever since I began recording my books, I’ve paid better attention to the quality of reading I do. Additionally, I’ve caught myself more than once about to read a book I’d already read. I have nothing against rereading a book when it’s an intentional reread, but I don’t want to waste time rereading a book that wasn’t meaningful the first time through. Recently, I started a book and realized it seemed familiar, so I looked back through my reading log, and, sure enough, there were my less-than-stellar comments about the book five years ago. Naturally, I didn’t spend any more time on that book.
            A third benefit to setting reading goals is that it forces you to pay better attention to how you use (or waste) your time. I aim to read 50 books each year, so that’s only a book a week with two weeks of cushion time for longer novels or for those times of the year that just seem to get busier than others. Back when I didn’t set a reading goal, I often let those busy times consume me to the point that I neglected the one activity I most enjoy. Now, that goal is a daily reminder to set aside time every single day for reading, and since I began making a yearly reading goal, I haven’t missed a day, no matter how busy my life becomes.
            May 2020 be a great reading year for all of us!



Walden

            Like many people, I’ve long known of Henry David Thoreau and his famous stay at Walden Pond, but until recently, I only knew the most famous quotes from Walden – the ones that have made appearances in movies or been used in other pieces of writing. (“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation” is probably one of the best known and oft-used quotes.) Now, though, I’ve read the entire book, and the list of mind-changing quotes a person could take from it is overwhelming.
            Thoreau’s two major themes throughout the book revolve around simplifying one’s life and living a life of nonconformity. That second theme is one I’ve always been passionate about because its main focus is on thinking for yourself. I read this book with my junior English students, and they can tell you that I often harp at them to think for themselves, so this was the perfect thing for them to read to get them to try to think deeper than they normally do.
            I filled an entire notebook with direct quotes, thoughts I had while reading, information I looked up to better understand his allusions, words I didn’t know or remember well, and many other things. Walden hit upon many of the philosophical things I spend my own thinking time on, so I was in literary heaven while reading this book. Being that they are teenagers, my junior students were not as enthralled as I was; however, even many of them showed a definite interest in some of the passages.
            Naturally, my favorite chapter was the one entitled “Reading,” and I’d like to share some of my favorite quotes from this section as they are the most relevant to this column. Like me, Thoreau appreciated the classics and claimed that “ . . . the adventurous student will always study classics, in whatever language they may be written and however ancient they may be. For what are the classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man?” I like that phrasing – “the noblest recorded thoughts.”
            He praised books as being worthy of one’s attention, but he cautioned that to be able to truly read well, a person must put forth the work to do so. “To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble exercise . . .” “Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.” This would entail learning and understanding the languages, the history, the cultures in which some of the great works of literature were written; so, most people, in actuality, do not truly read well even though they read a lot. Thoreau wrote: “The best books are not even read by those who are called good readers.”
            He realized the importance of words. “A written word is the choicest of relics.” “It is the work of art nearest to life itself.” Words come from our lips and our breath, so words are “carved out of the breath of life itself.”
            While I agreed with virtually everything he wrote in the chapter about reading, the quote I most loved was this: “Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations.” I’d like to tell Thoreau, who died in Massachusetts in 1862, that a writer in Nebraska in 2019 read his book deliberately and appreciated it as one of the classics of American literature it has become.
             


A Gentleman in Moscow



            A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles is a book that a person should read and savor, preferably more than once. After hearing and reading very conflicting reviews about it – quite polarized opinions of either very strong love of the book or very strong dislike for it – I decided to check it out for myself.
So many of the reasons for disliking it seemed to be that the book was boring because it was just about some Russian guy who was stuck living in a hotel in Moscow for half his life. On top of that, apparently, the guy was really into literature, and the author used a lot of big words to write about this guy who didn’t go anywhere or really do anything. Frankly, it sounded like my kind of book.
            I absolutely love this novel! I haven’t had time to reread it yet, but I plan to.
            The Russian guy is Count Alexander Rostov, an aristocrat who is sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of his life in the Metropol Hotel in Moscow. While the hotel is a real place, the Count and his story are not; however, Towles makes the Count and the characters who inhabit the hotel seem so very real. The novel spans the years 1922-1954, and it interweaves a lot of Russian history throughout the story.
            As I read the book, I noticed that every chapter title contains only words that begin with the letter A. I thought that was interesting and probably meaningful, so when I was finished reading it, I visited the author’s website of amortowles.com to see if he had an explanation for doing this. Surprisingly, he did not. He simply mentioned that it somehow felt right to do that. While that wasn’t really the answer I’d hoped to find, I did find many interesting and useful things on his website.
            Towles has links to various interviews, including a 52-minute talk he gave about this novel in December 2017. In that presentation, he shares an exterior image, taken in 1905, of the actual Metropol hotel, which he says is about the “size of a city block with hundreds of rooms.” He claims that it not only was the best hotel in Moscow, but it was the best hotel in all of Russia. A person under house arrest could do much worse than to be condemned to such a place for the rest of his life.
            However, the Count, who had been accustomed to staying in the best rooms, found himself condemned to live out his days in a small room in the attic. He doesn’t let this keep him from continuing to live and act like a gentleman, and his impact upon the people who worked and stayed in the hotel became his legacy. A few people, including a young girl who he essentially adopts, benefit more from his distinguished influence.
            This novel is beautifully written, the Count is that delightful and intelligent uncle we all wish we had, and the hotel is the backdrop for a microcosm of the historical events that impacted all of Russia. It’s clear that Towles did his research for this novel, and he provides much additional information on his website.
            Even though many readers didn’t like this novel, it spent a long time on the bestseller list. After reading it myself, I am firmly planted on the side of those who loved the book.

by: Tammy Marshall


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