Showing posts with label of the literary persuasion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label of the literary persuasion. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 20
My online book review
This was part of why I started a blog. I read constantly and I wish I remembered half of what I read. I would like to use some of the information I garner from reading in my future home-schooling pursuits, so with that in mind, I want to write a short synopsis or review of each book I read. These are going to be pretty rough and blunt because it's more for my records than for my readers' edification. Read on at your own risk! :)
Four Stories by Sigrid Undset
Writing in the early half on the 20th century, Sigrid Undset is a Norwegian author most famous for "Kristen Laveransdatter" (or so she was at my college). Her stories deal much with Catholicism in the world as exemplified in peoples' lives. Her portrayal of a life with faith is neither saccharine nor idealistic. In fact, it is often painfully realistic.
Four Stories is collection of 4 of her short stories set in modern times. The themes deal with loneliness in the single life, notions of home and children, the strange relations between men and women, and the futile hopes and aspirations of the average person. Really, they are rather depressing. But very poignant and thought-provoking. Reading them, you truly realize that every person is a mystery both to themselves and to those around them.
I would reread this.
Four Stories is collection of 4 of her short stories set in modern times. The themes deal with loneliness in the single life, notions of home and children, the strange relations between men and women, and the futile hopes and aspirations of the average person. Really, they are rather depressing. But very poignant and thought-provoking. Reading them, you truly realize that every person is a mystery both to themselves and to those around them.
I would reread this.
Wednesday, September 15
Recent Reading List - Conrad Richter
I've been looking back through my recent posts and noticed that they are primarily about babies. Surprise, surprise, right? I spend all day with a 1 year old and I'm expecting another in 3 months. But just so no one thinks I've totally succumbed to "baby brain," let me refresh my skills in non-baby talk.
I'm always reading some book (keeps me sane) and lately, I've been reading Conrad Richter's American pioneer trilogy (backwards) and The Mother Knot by Jane Lazarre. Two pretty different books, but similar in their featuring what Netflix calls a "strong female lead." Richter's books are The Trees, The Fields, and The Town. He traces the fictional settlement of Ohio from the point of view of his heroine, Sayward Luckett. In the first book, her family migrates from Pennsylvania to the dense woods of Ohio. Here they settle and in this book, she watches her siblings grow up, and she also marries her husband. The Fields is about Sayward's experience as a young mother of many children and the development of a town around her farm. The Town finds Sayward nurturing her youngest child and follows her life into old age, where she sees the end of the Ohio wilderness.
Of the three, The Town is the best. The character development and the conflict between Sayward and her youngest son is realistic and relevant to any generation. Unlike her older children, who witnessed their mother literally create a living for her family with her own hands, Sayward's youngest son, Chancey, grows up in a settled environment. He does not see or experience privation firsthand, which causes him to reject the "old fashioned" work ethos of his pioneer mother. His philosophy of life fights that of his mother's, who believes in the virtue of hard work, whether or not it is necessary. Chancey believes that work denigrates the human person and that less work for all creates freedom for all. I got a sniff of early socialist and communist ideas in this... which makes sense because the books were published in the 40's through 50's. My only qualm with the books, and the reason I'm not plowing through the first book (which just arrived in the mail) is because of the male/female relationships. Women, at least this one, were very stoic and appeared to expect a lot less from their men than we do today. There are many things I would have said to Sayward's husband that she does not. But oddly enough, the book helped me to appreciate, if not understand how men and women of my grandparents' generation stayed married .
I'm always reading some book (keeps me sane) and lately, I've been reading Conrad Richter's American pioneer trilogy (backwards) and The Mother Knot by Jane Lazarre. Two pretty different books, but similar in their featuring what Netflix calls a "strong female lead." Richter's books are The Trees, The Fields, and The Town. He traces the fictional settlement of Ohio from the point of view of his heroine, Sayward Luckett. In the first book, her family migrates from Pennsylvania to the dense woods of Ohio. Here they settle and in this book, she watches her siblings grow up, and she also marries her husband. The Fields is about Sayward's experience as a young mother of many children and the development of a town around her farm. The Town finds Sayward nurturing her youngest child and follows her life into old age, where she sees the end of the Ohio wilderness.
Of the three, The Town is the best. The character development and the conflict between Sayward and her youngest son is realistic and relevant to any generation. Unlike her older children, who witnessed their mother literally create a living for her family with her own hands, Sayward's youngest son, Chancey, grows up in a settled environment. He does not see or experience privation firsthand, which causes him to reject the "old fashioned" work ethos of his pioneer mother. His philosophy of life fights that of his mother's, who believes in the virtue of hard work, whether or not it is necessary. Chancey believes that work denigrates the human person and that less work for all creates freedom for all. I got a sniff of early socialist and communist ideas in this... which makes sense because the books were published in the 40's through 50's. My only qualm with the books, and the reason I'm not plowing through the first book (which just arrived in the mail) is because of the male/female relationships. Women, at least this one, were very stoic and appeared to expect a lot less from their men than we do today. There are many things I would have said to Sayward's husband that she does not. But oddly enough, the book helped me to appreciate, if not understand how men and women of my grandparents' generation stayed married .
Friday, June 25
Mommying and Other Things
So I am supposed to be writing my masters degree thesis! Actually, I was supposed to be writing it over one year ago. But one year ago, I was having a baby, packing, moving, unpacking, packing, moving, unpacking, and settling in. Oh yes, I may not be a master of English yet, but I am most definitely a master of excuses. On one hand, I rather like being able to say to people who ask me, "what do you do?" that "I stay at home with my little girl and I'm working on my thesis." Somehow, I always have this half guilty feeling that staying home with my baby and growing another is not quite enough in most people's minds... probably just in mine. This thesis business justifies my cushy existence as a stay-at-home mother.
But the sad truth is that I really haven't been working on my thesis. I "read" for it, but that is nothing new... I am always reading a book and since they are all vaguely literary, I call it "reading for my thesis." Granted, there was a period when we lived in Florida when I ordered a bunch of books on motherhood and writing and avidly read for about 4 months. And then I finished the books and started on "Miss Marjoribanks" which has nothing to do with my topic. And that's been the story ever since. Yet that thesis is always out there, begging to be written, pervading my sleepless hours, worse for my conscience than the pile of laundry that did not get washed, or the dirty dishes left overnight in the sink. I put a lot time and energy (and money) into my master's degree; it would be a pity if I don't ever earn it from lack of having the gumption to write a thesis.
Two days ago, I had a rebirth of interest in this bugbear of a thesis. I wrote my adviser, said hello, let her know I'm still alive, and told her I'm still going to write a thesis. Her email back to me was encouraging. She has two children of her own and somehow manages them, a teaching career, and research. With the impetus of her words, I started rewriting the proposal draft I'd previously coined. I'm about half way through and getting to the nasty, researching part. There is just so much information available that it is always a chore to use it in an organized, succinct manner.
Now a new dilemma strikes. What to do with Greta? She suddenly decided to stop taking two naps and instead, have two cranky, sleepless times in the morning and afternoon. As I procrastinate and write this entry, she is trying to crawl out the window and play with "her" dog, to whom she just fed the pen I was going to use to take notes on my research. Sigh.... Now she has moved to her crib, where she is loudly thinking over life and the delinquencies of her mother. I should be able to work because she is out of the room, but no, how can one work with a guilty conscience? My kid is crying. I'm supposed to do something about it, right? Sigh again..... The slightly ludicrous part of this whole drama is that my topic has to do with motherhood and art/writing, how the two compliment each other as two ends of the creativity spectrum (motherhood is physical creation, while writing is mental creation). The consoling part is that every critic on the subject is beset with the same struggles I'm having right now. Somehow they manage, and manage to create lasting works. My thesis does not need to be lasting, but it needs to be written at some point in time!
Anyone else? How do you do it?
But the sad truth is that I really haven't been working on my thesis. I "read" for it, but that is nothing new... I am always reading a book and since they are all vaguely literary, I call it "reading for my thesis." Granted, there was a period when we lived in Florida when I ordered a bunch of books on motherhood and writing and avidly read for about 4 months. And then I finished the books and started on "Miss Marjoribanks" which has nothing to do with my topic. And that's been the story ever since. Yet that thesis is always out there, begging to be written, pervading my sleepless hours, worse for my conscience than the pile of laundry that did not get washed, or the dirty dishes left overnight in the sink. I put a lot time and energy (and money) into my master's degree; it would be a pity if I don't ever earn it from lack of having the gumption to write a thesis.
Two days ago, I had a rebirth of interest in this bugbear of a thesis. I wrote my adviser, said hello, let her know I'm still alive, and told her I'm still going to write a thesis. Her email back to me was encouraging. She has two children of her own and somehow manages them, a teaching career, and research. With the impetus of her words, I started rewriting the proposal draft I'd previously coined. I'm about half way through and getting to the nasty, researching part. There is just so much information available that it is always a chore to use it in an organized, succinct manner.
Now a new dilemma strikes. What to do with Greta? She suddenly decided to stop taking two naps and instead, have two cranky, sleepless times in the morning and afternoon. As I procrastinate and write this entry, she is trying to crawl out the window and play with "her" dog, to whom she just fed the pen I was going to use to take notes on my research. Sigh.... Now she has moved to her crib, where she is loudly thinking over life and the delinquencies of her mother. I should be able to work because she is out of the room, but no, how can one work with a guilty conscience? My kid is crying. I'm supposed to do something about it, right? Sigh again..... The slightly ludicrous part of this whole drama is that my topic has to do with motherhood and art/writing, how the two compliment each other as two ends of the creativity spectrum (motherhood is physical creation, while writing is mental creation). The consoling part is that every critic on the subject is beset with the same struggles I'm having right now. Somehow they manage, and manage to create lasting works. My thesis does not need to be lasting, but it needs to be written at some point in time!
Anyone else? How do you do it?
Wednesday, April 28
Washington Square by Henry James
I really liked this novel. Because I liked the heroine, I wished for her sake that the ending had been happier, but for all extents and purposes, the book kept me interested and wanting to see how it would turn out.
Catherine Sloper is the opposite of that appalling Daisy Miller. In fact, she is something of an anti-heroine... plain, large, uninteresting, unintelligent, quiet, has little to say for herself, shows a great deal of unrewarded virtue of the less enticing sort. But sometimes it's nice to take a break from the beautiful blondes and witty brunettes and read about unremarkable people, who do, after all, exist in larger quantities than do the aforesaid blondes and brunettes.
So CS is the daughter of a rich and successful New York doctor around the turn of the century. He is disappoint in her in that she is not remarkable and he has what James describes as an "ironical" tone towards her. She, of course, does not understand his irony, but admires her father, who is everything she is not. Catherine meets a handsome, dashing young man, Morris Townsend, at a party. He showers her with attention, and as this is the first of the male persuasion who has showered her with attention, she duly falls completely and wholeheartedly in love with him in her quiet, reserved manner. Dr. Sloper rightly guesses that the young man is a fortune hunter (Catherine is to inherit her father's fortune) and disapproves the match. Much of the drama within the novel focuses around her father's opinion that Catherine, being in his mind an utterly tractable and meek young lady, will eventually dismiss Townsend in favor of her father's desire. But she does not. Even after a year long separation in Europe and in the face of her father's open hostility, Catherine is intent on marrying Townsend. I forgot Aunt Lavinia. She provides most of the comic relief in the form of a wannabe Gothic heroine/female Cupid, hurting the romance more than helping it. As suspected, once Dr. Sloper makes it clear that Catherine will be disinherited should she marry Townsend, the young man leaves. Catherine takes up life as a well-to-do spinster.
What I liked about her was her single-mindedness. She gave her marriage much thought, and once she made up her mind, she did not change it. Even after Morris jilted her, she still would not promise her father (on his deathbed no less!) not to marry Morris later. She looses 4/5s of her fortune because of this. Yet when Morris comes back to claim her, she will have nothing to do with him. At some point, she realizes that the one trait she possesses entirely is her faculty for using her own mind; she admirably sticks to this to the end. I liked her almost childlike honesty, her desire to do the right thing, and her stubbornness in the face of male disapproval. This book was a very clever manner of depicting an unpopular woman who learns to think for herself and trust herself. It is also realistic in the sense that she lives with the consequences of her decisions, even if the result is not pretty in a worldly standard.
Re-readability rating - 3 out of 5
Catherine Sloper is the opposite of that appalling Daisy Miller. In fact, she is something of an anti-heroine... plain, large, uninteresting, unintelligent, quiet, has little to say for herself, shows a great deal of unrewarded virtue of the less enticing sort. But sometimes it's nice to take a break from the beautiful blondes and witty brunettes and read about unremarkable people, who do, after all, exist in larger quantities than do the aforesaid blondes and brunettes.
So CS is the daughter of a rich and successful New York doctor around the turn of the century. He is disappoint in her in that she is not remarkable and he has what James describes as an "ironical" tone towards her. She, of course, does not understand his irony, but admires her father, who is everything she is not. Catherine meets a handsome, dashing young man, Morris Townsend, at a party. He showers her with attention, and as this is the first of the male persuasion who has showered her with attention, she duly falls completely and wholeheartedly in love with him in her quiet, reserved manner. Dr. Sloper rightly guesses that the young man is a fortune hunter (Catherine is to inherit her father's fortune) and disapproves the match. Much of the drama within the novel focuses around her father's opinion that Catherine, being in his mind an utterly tractable and meek young lady, will eventually dismiss Townsend in favor of her father's desire. But she does not. Even after a year long separation in Europe and in the face of her father's open hostility, Catherine is intent on marrying Townsend. I forgot Aunt Lavinia. She provides most of the comic relief in the form of a wannabe Gothic heroine/female Cupid, hurting the romance more than helping it. As suspected, once Dr. Sloper makes it clear that Catherine will be disinherited should she marry Townsend, the young man leaves. Catherine takes up life as a well-to-do spinster.
What I liked about her was her single-mindedness. She gave her marriage much thought, and once she made up her mind, she did not change it. Even after Morris jilted her, she still would not promise her father (on his deathbed no less!) not to marry Morris later. She looses 4/5s of her fortune because of this. Yet when Morris comes back to claim her, she will have nothing to do with him. At some point, she realizes that the one trait she possesses entirely is her faculty for using her own mind; she admirably sticks to this to the end. I liked her almost childlike honesty, her desire to do the right thing, and her stubbornness in the face of male disapproval. This book was a very clever manner of depicting an unpopular woman who learns to think for herself and trust herself. It is also realistic in the sense that she lives with the consequences of her decisions, even if the result is not pretty in a worldly standard.
Re-readability rating - 3 out of 5
Daisy Miller by Henry James
In the interests of taking a break from reading for my thesis - which involves unhealthy amounts of mother-writer bios - I picked up Henry James' "Washington Square" and "Daisy Miller." The primary reason was because it was one of the few books on my shelf that I haven't yet read. I don't love James. "Portrait of a Lady" was absolutely ruined for me by my undergraduate professor. Also, James' overtly male-interpretation-of-female-behavior grates on me after awhile. There is a taste of condesending in his writing towards women, owing to the fact, I suppose, that his tales are primarily told through the eyes of a male protagonist whose job as a narrator is to observe the woman in question and form opinions about her. There's almost something voyeristic about this.
Well, "Daisy Miller" and "Washington Square" are no different in the above regards. However, while I did not like DM, I did enjoy WS to a certain extent. To begin, DM is about HJ's pet topic - American women abroad in Europe and how they do not fit in. Portrait of a Lady is the same thing. I won't spoil the novel for you (hopefully), but my primary dislike about DM was Daisy herself. I really do not like girls like her. Never have, never will. By 'girls like her' I mean girls who are too popular with boys, who always tell you that they have more male friends than female friends, girls who too obviously prefer men's company to women's, but who are not free enough from flirtatious behavior to make this desire for male company seem platonic. Caveat - nothing about this post is supposed to be objective. Continuing.... In DM, all the women around Daisy are faulted for judging her supposed "high spirits" and innocent interest in men. James would like her to appear youthfully independent, intriguing, unconcerned with consequences, along with this odd mixture of coy flirtatiousness and innocent disregard of proprieties. Ugh! says this reader. She is just "too" something. I don't think James understands his subject because she comes across as neither naive nor simple, but just very, very stupid. I mean, she's supposed to have grown up in New York society. Is it really so realistic that she be absolutely ignorant of normal, sensible behavior? Had she been raised under a rock on a farm in the middle of Utah, I might understand the ignorance of proper behavior. But that still does not account for her obnoxious flirtatiousness which implies a great deal of worldly cultivation.
Well, the wages of sin are quick and deadly. Miss Daisy sits out all night with a dreamy Italian in the damp air of the Colosseum and yes, you guessed it. She contracts malaria and dies. Good riddance, I thought. Oh, there may be so much more to this tale that I am blocking out by my inherent dislike of Miss Daisy, but you know what? I'm not in college and no longer need to convince a teacher of the correctitude of my opinions.
Re-readability rating? 1 out of 5 stars.
Well, "Daisy Miller" and "Washington Square" are no different in the above regards. However, while I did not like DM, I did enjoy WS to a certain extent. To begin, DM is about HJ's pet topic - American women abroad in Europe and how they do not fit in. Portrait of a Lady is the same thing. I won't spoil the novel for you (hopefully), but my primary dislike about DM was Daisy herself. I really do not like girls like her. Never have, never will. By 'girls like her' I mean girls who are too popular with boys, who always tell you that they have more male friends than female friends, girls who too obviously prefer men's company to women's, but who are not free enough from flirtatious behavior to make this desire for male company seem platonic. Caveat - nothing about this post is supposed to be objective. Continuing.... In DM, all the women around Daisy are faulted for judging her supposed "high spirits" and innocent interest in men. James would like her to appear youthfully independent, intriguing, unconcerned with consequences, along with this odd mixture of coy flirtatiousness and innocent disregard of proprieties. Ugh! says this reader. She is just "too" something. I don't think James understands his subject because she comes across as neither naive nor simple, but just very, very stupid. I mean, she's supposed to have grown up in New York society. Is it really so realistic that she be absolutely ignorant of normal, sensible behavior? Had she been raised under a rock on a farm in the middle of Utah, I might understand the ignorance of proper behavior. But that still does not account for her obnoxious flirtatiousness which implies a great deal of worldly cultivation.
Well, the wages of sin are quick and deadly. Miss Daisy sits out all night with a dreamy Italian in the damp air of the Colosseum and yes, you guessed it. She contracts malaria and dies. Good riddance, I thought. Oh, there may be so much more to this tale that I am blocking out by my inherent dislike of Miss Daisy, but you know what? I'm not in college and no longer need to convince a teacher of the correctitude of my opinions.
Re-readability rating? 1 out of 5 stars.
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