What are You Reading Now?
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Henry James’ The American. Also Ambrose’s Undaunted Courage.
I read this recently as well. I'm still processing it. I'm not sure if I am a fan or not.
A gift from my mother almost 24 years ago. I'm just getting around to reading it now. Better late than never right?
I just did another reread (via audiobook) of John Steinbeck's EAST OF EDEN.
It's hard to know just what to say about this novel. I first read it around 2007 and the characters lingered and stayed with me for weeks (years, really) afterwards. The same thing is happening again after this last go-round. But I'm older and hopefully a bit wiser than my first reading and I can see more layers in the story than I did previously. There are only ever a handful of books like this that hit so hard in the course of a life.
It's hard to know just what to say about this novel. I first read it around 2007 and the characters lingered and stayed with me for weeks (years, really) afterwards. The same thing is happening again after this last go-round. But I'm older and hopefully a bit wiser than my first reading and I can see more layers in the story than I did previously. There are only ever a handful of books like this that hit so hard in the course of a life.
I recently reread it too after decades. Really enjoyed it. Two things stood out as especially good: the dialogues and the "digressions."
The dialogues... absolutely! As an example, the way Steinbeck would weave together Adam's and Sam Hamilton's discussions, and the wisdom he put into that old man's mouth - all fascinating stuff. And the digressions and glimpses into history and commentaries on life - all fascinating as well. This book is a deep well of wisdom on so many levels.
Something that I picked up on a lot is just the way Steinbeck would phrase things in a very 20th century manner. That brings me a lot of comfort and enjoyment. I was a young boy in the late 70s/early 80s and remember when men talked like that. They all had strong, black coffee-type voices and called a thing as they saw it. They also laughed a lot: deep laughter from the gut when they were all together as men (and men were always together in their own groups, just as the women were). I'd tag along to the filling station, feed store, or auto parts store, and old men like this were always there: smoking their pipes and dressed in workman's button-ups and khakis. They all had slick-combed hair and would always acknowledge me and my brother with smiles and kindness. The way Steinbeck talks (writes) is just like those men. That sort of thing has disappeared from the world entirely and I can't even express how much I miss it. I even think it was smashed and ripped out of the world on purpose, and now we are left with the muddled mess that is our culture. Books like this let me live in more sane times again for a while.
I hear you. I grew up in rural South Georgia in the 70s and 80s. Spent some time at the feed & seeds and actually worked at an old filling station as a kid, so maybe that's part of why I enjoyed those dialogues so much.
I would regret not being accounted present as a praiser of East of Eden
Some of the reads from earlier in august, all short.
Special designations to Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time
Some of the reads from earlier in august, all short.
Special designations to Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time
At the risk of becoming wearisome and turning this thread into a discussion on Steinbeck, I want to add something more about my experience with EAST OF EDEN and the power of great literature.
I've already stated how when I first read EofE back in 2006/7, the book and characters lingered on for a long time. This was the book that got me into books (in my early 30s) and it seemed almost providential for me to randomly grab a work that would make such an impact. For a long time it became the book that I judged lots of other books by. That's not a great idea.
I'm saying all this because since I finished a reread of EofE last week, the same sense of lingering and world-coloring has happened again. I find that random passages and memories come stealing into my mind at random times. I wonder how these characters lived out the rest of their lives, etc. Very strange because these were fictional characters and none of that stuff ever actually happened. It's just very strange how fiction can work on the human mind and heart.
I have become convinced that the greatest power in fiction is the ability it has to foster and grow our own sense of empathy for our fellow man. Fiction allows a person to spend time in another's skin and point of view. People who don't do that only have their own limited viewpoint and will likely never grow out of it much. An idea like that feeds into the belief that bookish people can be snobs. Well, maybe. And there are times when knowledge only puffs up and fills one with the wrong sort of pride. But when literature has done its work well, it changes a person for the better and lifts him out of his pigeon-holed existence.
This is the reason I read and continue to search for great books.
I've already stated how when I first read EofE back in 2006/7, the book and characters lingered on for a long time. This was the book that got me into books (in my early 30s) and it seemed almost providential for me to randomly grab a work that would make such an impact. For a long time it became the book that I judged lots of other books by. That's not a great idea.
I'm saying all this because since I finished a reread of EofE last week, the same sense of lingering and world-coloring has happened again. I find that random passages and memories come stealing into my mind at random times. I wonder how these characters lived out the rest of their lives, etc. Very strange because these were fictional characters and none of that stuff ever actually happened. It's just very strange how fiction can work on the human mind and heart.
I have become convinced that the greatest power in fiction is the ability it has to foster and grow our own sense of empathy for our fellow man. Fiction allows a person to spend time in another's skin and point of view. People who don't do that only have their own limited viewpoint and will likely never grow out of it much. An idea like that feeds into the belief that bookish people can be snobs. Well, maybe. And there are times when knowledge only puffs up and fills one with the wrong sort of pride. But when literature has done its work well, it changes a person for the better and lifts him out of his pigeon-holed existence.
This is the reason I read and continue to search for great books.
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