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JUST gently caress ME UP Name: Gertrude Perkins Number: 52 Booklord: Yes! ALSO: At least 1/3 books by people of colour, at least 1/3 books by women. GoodReads: Here!
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Jan 1, 2017 17:12
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Finished my first book of the year (Camus - The Outsider (L'Étranger)), and starting on a collection of the first three Ripley novels by Patricia Highsmith. Individually the books are ~300 pages, but the collection has closer to 900 - would that count as a "500+ page book" if I read the whole thing this year? Also, somebody sling me a wildcard! Preferably written by an author of colour, since I need to expand those horizons.
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Jan 4, 2017 23:40
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Franchescanado posted:Black Boy by Richard Wright Added to the list! Thanks~
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Jan 7, 2017 19:34
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Hey thread! I totally forgot to check in last month, so here's what I've read so far this year! 1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus. One of those "cult novels" I'd been meaning to get to for a while. Camus expertly paints the psyche of his main character, a restless and disaffected young man who in the author's words "refuses to lie" - and thus condemns himself with his frank apathy. It's a quick read, but with vivid prose and a great sense of tension and frustration. Will definitely be reading more of his stuff, now that I've finally got round to it. 2 - The Talented Mr. Ripley, by Patricia Highsmith. A classic story of deception, impersonation and murder. Easy to see how this became such a successful series: Highsmith's writing is engrossing and detailed, and the inner workings of Tom Ripley's mind are both alarming and satisfyingly real. She has a superb knack for building tension and exploring social anxieties, and the various twists and turns of the narrative never feel forced or clumsy. Ripley is an arsehole, but it's easy to see each step and conscious choice that mark his fall from grace. Very good stuff. 3 - Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Part 1 - Phantom Blood, vol. 1, by Hirohiko Araki. It feels a little strange to go back to the origins of a franchise that now feels ubiquitous, but I had never actually sat down and read JoJo's before. This collection has been really nicely laid out, with some colour highlights in certain chapters to give the dated (but still exciting) artwork more of a pop. The story is standard shonen stuff, but you can see glimpses of Araki's unique voice and style starting to take shape here and there. Looking forward to read more, and thus condemn myself to a life of reading nothing but beautiful muscle-man comics. 4 - Ripley Under Ground, by Patricia Highsmith. An expanded cast of characters and a plot revolving around art forgery. Ripley is more active and predatory in this one, a master manipulator for whom things get quickly and horribly out of balance. I didn't feel as connected to the plot in this one at first, but as things escalated I was glued to the pages again. 5 - A Field Guide to Identifying Unicorns by Sound: A Compact Handbook of Mythic Proportions, by Craig Conley. Whimsical, silly and strangely touching, this short illustrated handbook is replete with "accounts" from literature about unicorns through history, and offers readers a comprehensive (and often contradictory) guide to spotting them. It's breezy, and rarely failed to put a smile on my face. 6 - Sandman: Overture, by Neil Gaiman, J.H. Williams III, Dave Stewart and Todd Klein. Possibly the most beautiful comic art I've ever seen. The colours are vibrant, and the structure of each page flows and warps with the pace and scope of each scene. Gaiman's writing is at its most high-concept, but still finds space for "human" moments between characters. Some scenes and conversations seem inspired by 'Saga', which works for the enormous cosmic scale of the book. I don't know how I would have approached or appreciated this as someone new to Sandman, but after reading everything else this feels like a good and engrossing way to end/begin the series. 7 - Big Hard Sex Criminals vol. 1, by Matt Fraction & Chip Zdarsky. The first ten issues of the comic series about people whose orgasms stop time. It's goofy and silly, but often sweet, humanising its characters even as things get stranger with each issue. The writing rarely failed to put a smile on my face, and even the background gags made me laugh, with a decent blend of puerile humour and thoughtfulness. 8 - Ripley's Game, by Patricia Highsmith. The third Ripley novel, and the first to take a perspective other than Ripley's. A terminally ill man is coerced into becoming a hitman, and things spiral inexorably out of his control. The most human of the books I've read so far, exploring the real personal and familial fallout from violence and deception. 9 - Hello Avatar: Rise of the Networked Generation, by B. Coleman. Book exploring the history and philosophy of virtual personas, or "avatars", and the psychological risks and pleasures of living online and offline simultaneously. A good primer for anyone interested in how we got to where we are now, complete with short interviews with other writers and theorists - and an extended discussion of a cannibal on Second Life. 10 - The Wallcreeper, by Nell Zink. A short novel that follows the inner life of a newly-married woman as she follows her husband to Switzerland and beyond. Good and bad sex, birdwatching, isolated stretches of river, monologues on mankind's relationship with nature, disappointing dubstep raves, and nascent ecoterrorism. I wish I enjoyed this book more than I did: it only feels like things are ramping up in the last couple of chapters, only to end abruptly. Disappointing. 11 - The Pervert, by Michelle Perez and Remy Boydell. A moving and powerful comic about sex work, imperfect connections and scraping by. Perez's writing is casual and blunt, mixing perfectly with the washed-out watercolours. It's good as a collection of episodes from one young trans woman's life, and it's a deeply affecting overarching story. The parts we don't see are as important as the parts we do. It's rough in spots, but it never loses its tone. 12 - Fatal Invention: The New Biopolitics of Race and Gender, by Dorothy Roberts. A dense, thoughtful and troubling book about how race is socially and politically constructed, and has been perpetuated from colonial times up to the present day. Roberts has a scientist's vigour and a journalist's stubbornness, illuminating the strategies and fallacies of scientific racism and laying out the grim consequences. I like to think I'm fairly well-read in terms of racial politics, but this was one of those "oh no, it's even worse than you think" kind of books, peppered with nasty surprises that in hindsight are revealed to be the inevitable result of centuries of white supremacy. Only a few years old, this book feels even more urgent now. 13 - The Plague, by Albert Camus. A story about an epidemic in an isolated town that left me feeling grim and drained, but in a good way. Camus has an excellent command of place and pacing, and the way the town *sags* instead of crumbles under the weight of the plague was palpable. The truth that life really does continue on as normal, but in a washed-out facsimile, I suppose. I thought some of the longer monologues dragged, but were still filled with insightful and moving passages. Tarrou's life story is particularly powerful, especially when set against the "scientific" approach of the Principality and the quarantine camps. Very good, as necessary now as it was when it came out. 14 - Culdesac, by Robert Repino. A novella about an anthropomorphic bobcat, a hard-bitten soldier whose squad hunt down humans for their giant ant Queen. The premise is silly, but the writing itself is orders of magnitude sillier: "grimdark" doesn't even scratch the surface. Swearing (complete with made-up fantasy slurs), gratuitous gory violence, and the kind of dialogue that would make a Breaking Bad fanfic writer wince. The recurring thought I had was that this book is like reading the prose adaption of an early-00s furry webcomic. It has all the hallmarks: vague tech-uplift reasoning for "there are animal people now", an adolescent "gently caress everything" tone, trite messages about the inherent evil of humanity, a femme fatale to warm the heart of, and eventually betray, our stone-faced hero. I can't hate this - if I read it when I was twelve I would have thought it was kickarse. It's kind of adorable. Not good though, not good at all. 15 - The Sluts, by Dennis Cooper. A dark mystery of sex, violence and deceit told through messageboard posts and emails. The story of a young troubled escort in LA as imagined by a dozen semi-anonymous online users, the medium allows Cooper to weave complex and grotesque fantasies and collate many different truths about characters who become publc-domain in the eyes of their observers. While these tangles get a little tiresome by the novel's climax, the overall story is really satisfying. This is an ugly, desperate novel that for me is his most successful in capturing the nausea and fascination of urban legends about snuff films and sex. 16 - State Of Play: Creators and Critics on Video Game Culture, edited by Daniel Goldberg & Linus Larsson. A solid collection of essays exploring various aspects of videogame culture (as it says in the title). This came out in 2015, in the immediate wake of the Gamergate shitshow, and that's reflected in a good chunk of the chapters exploring online abuse and the homogeneous white supremacy of "gamer" identity. Dan Golding's chapter on the cultivation of "the Gamer" is particularly strong. This is far from the only topic though: merritt kopas has a great piece on sex and sexuality in games; Hussein Ibrahim discusses what it's like to be portrayed as "the bad guy" in a culture still dependent on racist shorthand; and Ola Wikander finishes the collection with a chapter on Gnostic religious imagery in Japanese games of the 90s. Worth picking up for anyone interested in some good discussion of contemporary game culture. So far a good spread of books, fiction, non-fiction etc. I still need to up my game where it comes to authors of colour, though I just started Lilith's Brood so that will help. Is it okay that I've been counting collected trilogies (like Ripley) as three books instead of just one? 1) Read some books. Set a number and go hog wild. Goal: 52 - 16 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 7 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 4 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 7) Read something that was recently published (anything from after 1st January 2016). - 8) Read something which was published before you were born. - 10) Read something from somewhere you want to travel. - 12) Read something historical. - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 13) Read something biographical. - 14) Read some poetry. - 15) Read a play. - 16) Read a collection of short stories. - 17) Read something long (500+ pages). - 18) Read something which was banned or censored. - 19) Read a satire. - 20) Read something about honour. - 21) Read something about fear. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. - 23) Read something that you love. -
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Mar 1, 2017 00:00
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quote:1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus I read four books in March, though one of them was 750 pages long, so I think I kept up a good pace. Still need to redress how white my reading list is, though. 17 - How To Talk About Videogames, by Ian Bogost. A collection of essays and articles, some published elsewhere, in which Bogost approaches various game genres and specific works through a variety of different viewpoints. From existential approaches to Proteus, to "what IS a sports videogame?", the ideas are always entertaining, and entertainingly relayed. I've always disagreed with Bogost on a number of his assertions, and at times these essays come off as self-indulgent or masturbatory. But there is some genuinely good and insightful stuff in here, and I'm glad I picked this up. 18 - Lilith's Brood, by Octavia E. Butler. A thick collected trilogy of dense, emotionally fraught science fiction. After humanity destroys itself in one last war, survivors are picked up by an advanced alien race with immense genetic knowledge. They offer to help humans recolonise the Earth, but only by fundamentally changing the nature of humanity itself. Butler writes very, very well, with a talent for the uncomfortable and shocks of action that linger in the aftermath. Her depiction of the Oankali is fascinating, plausible and deeply troubling, and provides both the most exciting and most offputting parts of the trilogy. Over three novels and several decades on the page, Butler weaves a dense and often unsettling story about preservation, colonialism, sex, manipulation, violence and coercion. There were times where the characters - both human and not - reached conclusions or gave in to feelings or thoughts that baffled and upset me. But even in those times, Butler never breaks from the internal logic of the universe she's creating. It does mean that several uncomfortable questions go unanswered in the back of my mind, though. 19 - Everything Belongs To The Future, by Laurie Penny. A dystopian novella that wears its politics on its sleeve. For all her foibles I'm a big fan of Penny's nonfiction work, and was excited to see her first stab at long-form fiction. Sadly I was a bit disappointed. The premise itself is simiple but good: that the key to longevity and "eternal youth" has been unlocked, and is used as another means for the rich to oppress the rest. The plot itself, focusing on young activists in Oxford, is fun and sad in all the right ways, but quite simply this book is too short.Parts of wider world-building are hinted at but never expanded on fully, which I feel is a mistake given how well this concept lends itself to a wider scope and cast of characters. As it happens, the protagonists we do get are pretty one-note, from the turncoat Big Pharma girl to the scrappy young punks to the skin-crawling young Tory. There were some parts that made me wince, and not in a good way. There are some good messages here though, even if they're anything but subtle. 20 - Cheer Up Love: Adventures in Depression with the Crab of Hate, by Susan Calman. Part autobiography, part guide to depression and anxiety disorders, this resonated with me more than a little. There are plenty of genuinely funny jokes about cats or crying over Gillian Anderson to balance out the sincere and earnest discussions of therapy, self-harm and communication. Calman's voice is instantly recognisable, and the stories from her life are vividly drawn. It's a feel-good book in many ways, about feeling bad, and what to do for yourself or those you care about if depression and its ilk feature heavily in your lives. 1) Read some books. Set a number and go hog wild. Goal: 52 - 20 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 10 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 5 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 18 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 8) Read something which was published before you were born. - 10) Read something from somewhere you want to travel. - 12) Read something historical. - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 14) Read some poetry. - 15) Read a play. - 16) Read a collection of short stories. - 18) Read something which was banned or censored. - 19) Read a satire. - 20) Read something about honour. - 21) Read something about fear. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. - 23) Read something that you love. -
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Apr 1, 2017 11:27
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quote:1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus In April and May, I read eight books. Pace still very slow as real-life turbulence continues. 21 - Zero History, by William Gibson. Third and final book of the Blue Ant trilogy, with a returning cast of characters and a sprinkling of new ones. The plot concerns the world of fashion and "underground branding", playing on themes of augmented reality and hidden media as with the previous two books. The early chapters, with clandestine recordings of jean stitching, lavish and bizarre hotel rooms and the plot thread around Milgrim's rehabilitation, are excellent, vivid and amusing. However, I was disappointed and sometimes outright lost during the final act and the climax felt underwhelming to me. I'm happy to see the overarching narrative come to a close, but compared to the excitement of Spook Country or Pattern Recognition it felt a bit limp. 22 - s√he, by Saul Williams. His second published poetry collection, exploring the highs and lows of an early relationship and the parenthood that arose from it. There are some excellent short poems here, but a lot of half-finished thoughts. Obviously, as poetry about the breakdown of love and trust, there is an important voice missing (i.e. the woman he's writing about), but even taking that into account, I didn't feel as moved or as enriched by this collection as I was hoping. 23 - Mr. Fox, by Helen Oyeyemi. A writer's muse takes on a life of her own and starts to interrogate him for the way he treats the women in his stories, and in his real life. The book illustrates his fixations with engaging short stories set in different locations and with different incarnations of his archetypal men and women. The main plot of the book doesn't really get going for a while, and I found myself floundering for the first half, but it pulls together very well by the end. Even so, I didn't feel nearly as much pleasure or satisfaction from this kind of meta storytelling as I expected. Perhaps the stakes in the short stories affected me more than the main plot? I do like the way Oyeyemi writes though, so I can see myself picking up more of her work in future. 24 - Embed With Games: A Year on the Couch with Game Developers, by Cara Ellison. A Scottish games journalist and writer takes a trip around the world, stopping in locations from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur and spending time with various (mostly independent) game developers. Written over the span of 2014, it provides a vivid snapshot of the cutting edge of videogame creation, while also being a very personal work (like much of Ellison's writing). She captures quiet, intimate moments and busy parties with equal dexterity, is candid in talking about the parts of games culture and culture at large that excite or upset her. The book is part travelogue, too, and Ellison sketches out cities and homes with character and life. Reading it I felt envious, not just of the places she was able to visit but the people and conversations she was able to engage with. A very good book. 25 - 3 Conversations, by merritt kopas and Charlotte Shane. A sixty-odd-page chapbook consisting of three long conversations, about 'Body', 'Work' and 'Relationships'. Candid, explicit and unflinching, kopas and Shane have a great and lively chemistry, and offer deep insight into topics such as sex work, transgender bodies, polyamory and survival. Engrossing and personal, I found myself nodding along throughout, even as a cis guy. 26 - Saga, vol. 7, by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples. Still Saga, still excellent. More is at stake and more lives hang in the balance as characters succumb to immense stress. This trade has some of the bleakest scenes, and the beautiful artwork only adds to the affective elements of the story. 27 - Playground, by 50 Cent. I saw this in a pound shop and knew I had to buy it. Yeah, Fiddy wrote a book! (With a ghostwriter). It's a YA novel loosely based on his own childhood, about a troubled teen called Butterball dealing with the fallout of a violent outburst at school. Told in simple, blunt but effective language, the story follows Butterball through therapy, family anxieties and peer pressure, towards a pleasant and optimistic ending. It's actually pretty good, and captures a fairly authentic teenage voice. A quick read, but not one I regret at all. 28 - Tokyo Cancelled, by Rana Dasgupta. Solid and interesting magical realism with plenty of surprises. Effectively a short story collection, with the framing device of having thirteen strangers trapped at an airport overnight sharing stories. The stories are often really good - Dasgupta touches on a lot of turn-of-the-millennium anxieties such as cloning, information technology and pandemic (terrorism is conspicuously absent). There are several running themes across the stories: immigration and migration, body horror, and an unpleasant running trope of women as mysterious objects. This is offset a litte by the eleventh story - Katya has much more control than most of the other women in the book, but is still the target of manipulation. Gender stuff aside, apart from a couple of less-interesting entries, this is a good and interesting collection that had me pleasantly engaged from start to finish. 1) Read some books. Set a number and go hog wild. Goal: 52 - 28 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 13 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 9 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 18, 22, 23, 27, 28 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 8) Read something which was published before you were born. - 10) Read something from somewhere you want to travel. - 12) Read something historical. - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 15) Read a play. - 18) Read something which was banned or censored. - 19) Read a satire. - 20) Read something about honour. - 21) Read something about fear. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. - 23) Read something that you love. -
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Jun 1, 2017 16:03
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quote:1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus I read seven books in June. 29 - Multiple Choice, by Alejandro Zambra. A short book that blends fiction and nonfiction, poetry and prose. Presented in the style of the Chilean Academic Aptitude Test, which Zambra himself took as a student, the format allows him to explore personal, political and historical moments through a detached and postmodernist lens. Frequently funny and surprising; I liked this a lot. 30 & 31 - Pluto, vol. 1 & 2, by Naoki Urasawa. Based on Osamu Tezuka's Astro Boy, this series reworks one original story arc into a tense murder mystery told from the perspective of a robot detective. Really strong artwork and good pacing allow the emotional beats of the story to reverberate, and I love the way Urasawa fleshes out the setting and darker mood of the original Astro Boy. Can't wait to get through the rest of the series! 32 - The Pregnancy Project, by Gaby Rodriguez and Jenna Glatzer. The true story of a highschooler who decided to fake her own pregnancy as a senior project, to "live down" to the expectations of others. Much of the book is Rodriguez justifying the project, and coming to terms with the aftermath - there is a lot of discussion of her family history, particularly her mother, who had been pregnant herself as a teen. The book itself is aimed at a YA audience, and has some good messages about independence and reaching your full potential in spite of the labels society forces on you. Rodriguez's frustrations with the stereotypes around teen pregnancy are palpable. While I wouldn't say I enjoyed the book particularly, I can see it being important and influential for younger audiences. 33 - Turbulence, by Samit Basu. Everyone on a flight from London to Delhi ends up developing superpowers. Gathering together to try and figure out what happened to them and how, while becoming friends, rivals, enemies in the process. Heavily inspired by the likes of Heroes and the X-Men, this book is genre-savvy, often silly, and often brutal. It is fun to see an Indian spin on a well-trodden genre, and even if the story ends up being nothing new, the characters and set pieces are still plenty of fun, and the pacing is brisk. Curious to see where Basu goes in the sequel(s?). 34 - Babbling Corpse: Vaporwave and the Commodification of Ghosts, by Grafton Tanner. A short, dense and very fun book looking at the socio-cultural forces behind the vaporwave micro-genre and the appeal it has to young audiences in particular. Drawing on theorists like Derrida and Simon Reynolds, Tanner tracks themes from plunderphonics to hauntology and paints a dark but vibrant picture of sonic life under late capitalism. 35 - The House That Groaned, by Karrie Fransman. Graphic novel about a creaky old house and its strange tenants. There's a woman who runs a weight-loss group who is menaced by midnight phonecalls; a man sexually obsessed with illness and disfigurement; a woman who is invisible. The stories told overlap with each other in vignettes and flashbacks full of misfortune, misery and disappointment. A major recurring theme is women's bodies and the fears and pleasures of them. While Fransman's storytelling is good and her command of the comic panels works well...the art itself is ugly and drab. It looks like a cheap newspaper comic, even when coupled with more ambitious framing or complex visuals. If you can get past the artwork, though, there are some good little character pieces in here. 1) Read some books. Set a number and go hog wild. Goal: 52 - 35 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 15 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 32, 35 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 13 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 18, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 8) Read something which was published before you were born. - 12) Read something historical. - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 15) Read a play. - 18) Read something which was banned or censored. - 19) Read a satire. 20) Read something about honour. - 21) Read something about fear. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. -
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Jul 2, 2017 00:44
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quote:1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus I read five books in July. 36 - 253, by Geoff Ryman. It's set on a London underground train, with 253 passengers (including the driver). You're given the layout of each carriage, where each character is sitting, and each character gets exactly 253 words describing their appearance, their inner thoughts, and what they're doing/thinking. The actual timespan of the book is about seven minutes, but you get to learn about every person on the train, their relationships, their connections and interactions. And the book is peppered with footnotes, little joke sketches and so on. While the individual profiles are only vaguely connected, which means there isn't much flow, there is an index spelling out the many and varied connections between passengers. It's pretty cool! And then the epilogue section hits hard, and a lot of Ryman's choices become clear in retrospect. Really interesting project that I feel works well in execution. More than just a great snapshot of mid-90s London, it's a sweet and strange and powerful book. 37 - Prelude To Bruise, by Saeed Jones. Intimate and excellent poetry collection, exploring race and sexuality and the triumphs and mistakes that are part of self-discovery. Jones writes with a desperation and a playful, passionate poetic voice. Recurring themes of transformation, bodies, fire and pain resonate strongly enough that I couldn't put this book down. 38 - Gondwanaland, by Brenda Ray. Short short story collection, mainly centring around little snippets of parochial English life, with underlying darknesses. Some nice twists and satisfying, cosy prose, but nothing here that seems to have left much of an impact on me. I don't have much to say other than "its nice". 39 - The Humans, by Matt Haig. An alien comes to Earth and assumes the identity of a mathematics professor in order to carry out a mysterious, malevolent plan. And slowly but surely, gets infected with humanity. The book took a while to grab me - the first third is written in a style that reminded me a lot of The Curious Incident Of the Dog In The Night-Time, with the alien's inner monologue and behaviour being coded stereotypically "autistic". But Haig displays more nuance than that, and as the story progressed I was drawn into the characters and the philosophy. While a little mawkish at times, it has a good heart, and by the end I felt satisfied and good. 40 - Garbage Night, by Jen Lee. Graphic novel about anthropomorphised animals surviving in a post-apocalypse trek through a dangerous forest. The art is gorgeous and moody, and tonally I was reminded of Night In The Woods. While the plot is sparse, the characters are engaging and the few moments of conflict are powerful and enhanced by Lee's simple and emotionally-resonant artwork. I picked this up on a whim and was very happy with it. 1) Read some books. Set a number and go hog wild. Goal: 52 - 40 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 17 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 32, 35, 38, 40 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 16 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 18, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37, 40 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 8) Read something which was published before you were born. - 12) Read something historical. - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 15) Read a play. - 18) Read something which was banned or censored. - 19) Read a satire. 20) Read something about honour. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. -
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Aug 1, 2017 04:55
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quote:1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus I read five books in August. 41 - Meatspace, by Nikesh Shukla. A story about social media, identity and the struggle to fit in. A failing writer and his laddish brother each encounter their doppelgangers online, and end up meeting them face-to-face, with strange and troubling consequences. The main plot was interesting, and often genuinely unpleasant to read, with a queasy Chris Morris-esque sense of helplessness. There's romance, which is sweet enough, though for me it didn't do enough to flesh out the rest of the book. The last chapter in particular spoiled a cathartic ending with an unexpected twist that I'm not sure if I liked, but in hindsight made some sense. I like the way Shukla writes, and I definitely want to explore more of his stuff, but there was something lacking in this particular book. 42 - You've Been Warned, by James Patterson and Howard Roughan. Wow. I picked this up on the recommendation of the I Don't Even Own A Television podcast, and powered through it in maybe three hours total. It's like a parody of trashy airport thrillers, with all the one-note characters and clichés amplified by an awkward conversational inner monologue and a main character who is easy to despise. Every twenty pages or so I folded down the corner of a page to bookmark where cringeworthy and laughter-inducing passages were. The pacing is atrocious, the "psychological thriller" elements are tepid at best, and the final reveal is one of the most audacious and poorly-executed I've ever seen. This book is terrible and it is a must-read. 43 - The Emperor's Babe, by Bernadine Evaristo. A verse novel (novel in verse?) from the point of view of a young black girl in 3rd-Century Roman Britain. Starting as a child bride and fighting against the restrictions of her society, race and upbringing, she falls in love with the visiting Emperor. She's backed by a couple of friends, who are written with as much character and charm as the rest of the cast. I wasn't expecting there to be a transgender character, let alone such a prominent one, and while she is written rather broadly it was a pleasant surprise to have her be treated with respect by the other protagonists. The poetry itself is at times jokey, at times intense, with the passion and fervour of the main character's teenage emotions. I'd definitely recommend this book as an alternative to standard tales of life in the Roman empire, and it's one of the most interesting and memorable pieces of historical fiction I've encountered. 44 - Giant Days, Vol. 1 by John Allison, Lissa Treiman and Whitney Cogar. Comic series about three young women friends in their first year at university. It's chummy and fun, the dialogue is snappy and endearingly twee. There are a few flights of fancy, though most of the visuals are fairly low-key. Great character art coupled with slightly bland environments, which at least gives the dialogue and character interactions more of the spotlight. I smiled a lot reading this, and will probably check out more of th series. 45 - Physical Resistance: A Hundred Years Of Anti-Fascism, by Dave Hann. A history of anti-fascist action, organisation and conflict in the UK. Densely packed with eyewitness accounts and covering every year from 1924-2011, it's about as comprehensive a work as I could have asked for. Rarely dry or clinical, Hann is able to put human faces on the colunteers and agitators; it's easy to get wrapped up in the personal drama. Each victory fills the reader with satisfaction; each setback evokes frustration and regret. A particularly powerful section is the chapter on volunteers who went to fight against Franco in the Spanish Civil War, and how infighting and abandonment doomed their cause. One thing that struck me reading this was how often history repeated itself, and how many similarities there are between even the earliest anti-fascist struggles and today's antifa. A major theme is the importance of solidarity and putting in the work, on and off the streets, to combat far-right extremism. 1) Read some books. Set a number and go hog wild. Goal: 52 - 45 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 18 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 32, 35, 38, 40, 43 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 17 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 18, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37, 40, 41, 43 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 8) Read something which was published before you were born. - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 15) Read a play. - 18) Read something which was banned or censored. - 19) Read a satire. 20) Read something about honour. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. -
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Aug 31, 2017 00:00
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quote:1 - The Outsider, by Albert Camus Things have been slow going, so I only finished 7 shortish books in September and October. 46 - Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi. Had seen (and loved) the film a few years ago, so it was high time I got around to actually reading the source material. It's very good, and Satrapi's simple style allows her to cover horrifying discussions of war and torture with the same clarity and humanity as the smaller episodes from her life. Her snapshots of Iranian life and culture before and after the '79 revolution, as well as the portrayal of civilian life during war with Iraq, make up an oral history of sorts - and ended up shocking me more than once. It's a life story about family, love, friendship, war, and finding one's identity, and I am very glad I finally read it. 47 - My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, by Kabi Nagata. A candid tell-all manga about a woman's struggles with sexuality, mental illness, self-harm and loneliness, but it's sweet and funny and endearing too. It's not exactly a feel-good book, though - it goes to some dark places.The art is simple and cute, and some parts really resonated with me. A running theme is the importance of self-care, as well as the value even in incremental change. The twin desires for belonging and companionship have rarely been depicted with such urgency and clarity. I definitely recommend it. 48 - I Hate Myself And Want To Die: The 52 Most Depressing Songs You've Ever Heard, by Tom Reynolds. I've been reading bits of this off and on for ages, but finally finished it this month. It's a list of songs with dark, depressing or morbid themes, and Reynolds spends 4-8 pages on each one discussing the lyrics, instrumentation and context for their release. Obviously not something to be read straight through, more for delving into snippets while listening to the music. As a curator Reynolds has some good picks, including some more obscure work; his editorial voice does grate after a while, though. A lot of the time it feels like he's run out of things to say about a song or an artist, and much of the book feels padded. It works as a good introduction to some artists, though, and can make you see some tracks in a new light. 49 - This Blinding Absence of Light, by Tahar ben Jelloun. A harrowing and miserable novel based on the experiences of prisoners trapped in a Moroccan secret prison, in near-total darkness. The prose is beautiful and evocative, and there are moments that show the triumph of human spirit and willpower over unimaginable misery and hopelessness. Despite that, though, this was a gruelling, slow read, and one that I had to put down for days at a time because of the oppressive atmosphere it curated. An important book, definitely, and one that's worthy of praise, but not one I can see myself picking up again. 50 - Dress Your Family In Cordury And Denim, by David Sedaris. Comic memoir from an acclaimed writer whom I'd not read before this. The stories range from charmingly funny to surprisingly poignant, and the characters in Sedaris's life are drawn wonderfully. He captures a range of different voices and archetypes, and even the handful of more clichéd stories raised a smile. He writes candidly about his anxieties, his sexuality, his OCD, and the many foibles of his parents and siblings, in ways that really drew me in and brought them to life. I can see why he's so popular! 51 - Last Winter We Parted, by Fuminori Nakamura. Very dry Japanese psychological murder-mystery thing. The structure of the book - pairing first-person narrative with "archival material" from other characters - means the pacing is pretty poor, and by the book's "climax" I had lost track of what the core questions really were. The last third of the book on its own was better than the novel as a whole, I thought - though in hindight the way it's laid out is fairly interesting, it's not that engaging. The sparse, emotionless prose doesn't do much to alleviate that. Disappointing, for the most part. 52 - Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach. A famous novella, and one that I've been dimly aware of for a while. The title character is a seagull who teaches himself how to fly incredibly well, but is outcast from his flock for going against the Natural Order Of Things. He ascends to a higher plane of bird-knowledge, then returns to teach other seagulls how to transcend the ordinary. It's about as obvious and heavy-handed an allegory as I could have imagined, and reads exactly like the sort of thing you'd find in the "motivational/self-help" section of a bookshop. It's kind of sweet, though, and got some smiles out of me. Not particularly special, but I'm sure it's very special to some people. 2) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by women. - 20 - 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 32, 35, 38, 40, 43, 46, 47 3) Of the books you read this year, make sure at least 1/3 of them are written by someone non-white. - 22 - 3, 9, 11, 12, 18, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37, 40, 41, 43, 46, 47, 49, 51 6) Read a book someone else in the thread recommends (a wildcard!) - Black Boy - 12a) Read something about the First World War. - 15) Read a play. - 19) Read a satire. - 20) Read something about honour. - 22) Read something about one (or more!) of the seven sins. - Gertrude Perkins fucked around with this message at 06:41 on Oct 31, 2017 |
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Oct 31, 2017 06:39
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What a stupid loving year. At least I read a lot!quote:
I read nine books in November and December, bringing my final tally of books completed to sixty-one. 53 - The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet, by Becky Chambers. A wonderful space-opera journey with alien species, future tech, politicking and a great cast. The core characters of the ship's crew are written with genuine affection and given space to explore their lives, emotions and cultures. Apart from a couple of antagonists near the end of the book, the whole cast feels personable and like part of a larger whole. Chambers brings a lot to the table, and it really pays off: a story about finding a new family out in the world and pulling together through trials and tragedies. I saw this book called "millennial", whatever that's meant to mean, but as a troubled 20-something I definitely felt a lot of this book resonated with me. By the epilogue I was genuinely emotional, and I can't wait to get to the sequel. 54 - The Sellout, by Paul Beatty. Scathing satire of American racism and the intersections of prejudice, power and peaches. The protagonist, last name "Me", describes his bizarre upbringing and strange neighbourhood, shot through with past and present racial tension and politicised identity. Over the course of the novel, he becomes a slave owner, a segregationist, and a Supreme Court plaintiff, and the absurdity of each step along this path is all too reasonable. Obviously as a white guy - and a British one at that - not all of it landed with me, especially the Californiana that the book is shot through with. But it was a hell of a read, surprising and funny and wince-inducing. It even made me laugh out loud a few times, which is rare for a book. Really glad I read this. 55 - Comet in Moominland, by Tove Jansson. The first full Moomin book, and it's lovely. I've liked the Moomin series and characters since I saw the 90s anime adaption as a child, but I've never got round to reading the books until now. The tone is exactly as good as I expected, with grand adventures and high stakes to go along with the small-scale whimsy and characters. It's interesting that the first book concerns a coming catastrophe - the titular comet - as it (and the prelude novella) come directly after the end of the Second World War. Themes of evacuation, shelter and perseverence through teamwork drive the dark-but-hopeful mood home pretty well. This was such a nice read; I shall definitely be reading the other books in the series. 56 - The Ubu Plays, by Alfred Jarry. I'd heard of Jarry a few years ago, in a lecture presentation that talked at length about his strange life and works. A man ahead of his time, an iconoclast and jester whose first play, Ubu Roi, caused outrage with its very first word. Coming to these texts over a century after they were first written, they definitely seem to be of a later era, after surrealism and high-minded farce in comedy had become trendy. As a result, a lot of the jokes and strangeness don't have much of an impact on me reading in 2017. The translator took several liberties, which he describes and justifies at length, and for the most part they make sense. His rendering of Ubu and his wife as bellowing, screeching cockneys was a little distracting, though. It's hard not to admire Jarry's dedication to the odd cacophony of the plays, and the edition I read contained a reworked, abridged adaption for puppet-show that showed how the language and humour evolved over the course of Jarry's career. I'm glad I read these, to know what all the fuss was about as much as to enjoy them myself. While they don't hold up so much as plays to read, I bet a stage adaption would be entertaining and bizarre. 57 - Mother Night, by Kurt Vonnegut. A short and miserable novel about the cruelty and absurdity of hatred, prejudice and fascism. The protagonist is cast as a man without opinions or allegiance (except to his late wife), and freely admits to furthering the cause of Nazism as an eager collaborator - under American instruction. The crimes and propaganda and toxic ideologies espoused by the book's characters are indistinguishable from those of today, albeit with a handful of names changed. Reading this in 2017, in the shadow of ascendant fascism, was a surreal and troubling experience, but also has the catharsis of knowing that the threats we face today are not new. I found myself dog-earing some pages because of how much they resonated with the current perpetual crisis. Obviously the novel isn't all grim: Vonnegut's style lends itself as ever to remarkable humour and the minor farces of human life. It's that ridiculousness that lends the darkness of the book so much more power: the foolishness and naivety of authoritarianism, and the pathetic ways in which Campbell, the protagonist, justifies his actions to himself. An excellent and sobering read, right up to the final words. 58 - The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie, by Muriel Spark. A classic short novel about a wonderfully caricatured schoolteacher in 30s Edinburgh who considers herself supremely wise and knowledgable, and who endeavours to train up a new generation of young ladies to follow in her footsteps. Full of well-drawn characters (Miss Brodie especially) and a very satisfying satire on class aspirations, the only area in which Spark failed to grab me was the plot itself. Particularly in the latter half, with doomed love affairs and sadness, I felt an urge to skim through in search of the "fun parts": the conversations, the monologues, the glimpses of Miss Brodie's (atrocious, fascist) worldview. Overall though, I liked the way it was written, with the shifting temporal perspectives and a real knack for comedy. 59 - The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room, the Greatest Bad Movie Ever Made, by Greg Sestero and Tom Bissell. A surprisingly human book that tells the story of an unlikely friendship between a young struggling actor and an enigmatic stranger, and the notoriously awful film they ended up making together. There are plenty of fun and bizarre anecdotes, and the exasperation at Wiseau's antics and foibles is palpable. (I listened to the audiobook of this, and greatly enjoyed Sestero's narration and Tommy Wiseau impression.) Beyond the juicy behind-the-scenes fiasco of The Room, though, Sestero is able to tell a very personal and surprisingly moving story. His Tommy is manic, artificial, frightening, misogynistic and crass. He's also gifted with an infectious enthusiasm and a deep, all-consuming desire to be loved and accepted and "normal". The half-true stories about his pre-Hollywood life are sad and inspirational, but shrouded in an Oscar-bait aura that echoes Tommy's melodrama onscreen. "What a story, Mark!" 60 - Counter-Attack and Other Poems, by Siegfried Sassoon. WWI poetry, about the horrors and hypocrisy of war and the longing for better places and people. I think everyone has an idea of what "First World War poetry" means, given its place in the cultural canon, and Sassoon exemplifies a lot of that: grim depictions of violence and terror, homesickness, incompetent leadership. I wasn't expecting the poems that so strongly condemn the complacency of society at large, though: one particular poem, "Song-Books Of the War", predicts a naive nostalgia for the "dazzling times when sacrifice absolved our earth". Which, as a prediction, is evergreen. It's easy to see why poetry like Sassoon's had such a big impact. With the edition I read, a cheap printing adds a few unfortunate typos, but that doesn't detract much from the impact. 61 - Black Boy, by Richard Wright. My Wild Card this year, and a hell of a book to close out the year. A powerful and moving memoir about a childhood under the scourge of Jim Crow. Wright's prose is evocative and clear, and even flights of fancy are rooted in a very real sense of identity. The young Richard is crushed under the brutal weights of poverty, his abusive family, authoritarian religion and the ever-present, all-encompassing swamp of white supremacy. I was mortified and shocked by he way he writes about his progressive awakenings to his own blackness and the monstrous racism of the culture he was born into. Even knowing the expanse of racial subjugation from history and activism, having his bare experiences described in such stark detail was still deeply affecting. My copy was second-hand, and contained several annotations by a previous owner - I'm not surprised this book would be part of some educational curriculum, as it puts a human face (one of many) on the USA's grim history of prejudice. All reviews available on My Goodreads as always. STATS: 14,290 total pages, give or take. (Last year: 15,540) Average book length: 234 pages. (Last year: 239) Reading speed: 39 pages per day. (Last year: 42.5) My numbers are down a little, mostly due to real-life stress and much less time spent travelling (which is where I get most of my reading done). BOOKLORD RESULTS: 20) Read something about honour. - Out of all of these, I don't think I managed a book that was, primarily, about the idea of "honour". There were plenty of narratives that had things to say about honour, but nothing that gave me the impression that it was the main theme. I could be wrong, of course. I managed just over 1/3 writers of colour, and just over 1/3 women writers. This doesn't include books written or edited by a mix of people. Overall, 37/61 books I read this year were not written by a white man, and that's more than half, which I am fairly proud of. Next year I must do better.
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Dec 31, 2017 18:33
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