New Series

I've started a new series, Stephen King's Dark Tower books. The first of the books, The Gunslinger, is by far the thinnest of the volumes. It's just over 300 pages, whereas the last editions are over twice that size. It differs substantially from King's other writing, in that we know virtually nothing of the main character's inner life. We observe his action and are usually given no explanations or motivations: sometimes the gunslinger acts with kindness, other times with sudden brutality. The world he inhabits is clearly some variation of our own, but the book offers no clues to whether this is some kind of post-apocalyptic future or weird dream or alternate reality. King more or less pulls this off in this volume, but I think he's going to have to be more forthcoming rather quickly if he hopes to hold my attention over subsequent books. The gunslinger chases the man in black. Why, and what he'll do when and if he catches him, remain something of a mystery.

I am partial to the style of writing. It's more modern and less sentimental that King's usual novels. According to my edition's afterword, it took 12 years to write the first book, which came out in 1981. If I have my facts straight, the last volume appeared only a year or two ago. I'm looking forward to working through a series that I expect will be more rewarding than the Left Behind novels that I recently completed.

In order to try to make myself look smart, I resort to reading classics

Dostoevsky's Poor People is a very quick read, particularly when you consider that some of his more famous works will be the thickest books on your shelf. Years ago, in high school, I was amazed when I read Notes from the Underground, and have always wanted to come back for more of Dostoevsky's cannon. This is his first novel, and I will say it does not pack the punch of NFTU, but is nonetheless a fine and absorbing read. It is an epistolary novel, following the letters of two Russians, one young woman and an aging older man. It is something of a challenge to read between the lines of their letters and find their true meaning, and see their actual struggle. Maybe a good starting point for someone like me, who is not entirely familiar with Dostoevsky and wants to ease my feet into the water, before getting caught up in The Idiot, The Brothers Karamazov, or Crime and Punishment. I'm looking forward to tackling some of these books in the not too distant future.

DK is the new Shakespeare

Just kidding. But The Voice of the Night is no more or less annoying than other Koontz novels, which seems to be the sort of thing I always find myself saying about Koontz. One book is as nondescript as the next, I guess.

This one involves a popular teenager who is also a murderer, and his not popular friend, who does not believe the popular teen is a murderer, then eventually comes to the obvious conclusion that he is, then must try to stop him. Also involves nominal love story. This is another one that Koontz wrote under a pseudonym and later re-released, so clearly it's not his strongest work. On the bright side, I read this at the beach and it seemed entirely appropriate.

And FYI, if anyone back home actually reads this non-sense that I write here, remember I will be back on Friday, so don't go out of town or something. Stick around and hang out with me!

It is Finished

As it says on the spine of this penultimate volume of the Left Behind series, it is now officially finished. I have read the 16 books that comprise this amazing mess; into your hands I commend my spirit, Father.

I don't have much to add to previous comments, except to say that this book is more of the same. It feels very much like something that was tacked-on to the series to make a few more dollars--many of the central characters from previous books show up only on the margins of this one. It's impossible to get into the plot without delving into pre-millennialist theology, something which I'm in no mood to do at the moment. The entire second half of this series managed to attain a fever pitch of religious hatred, paranoia, ignorance, and poor writing and characterization. This book continue that tradition, and serves I suppose as a representative and appropriate finale, in a sense.

I'm taking a break from right-wing religious fiction for a while, but I do intend to eventually get back around to critical reactions to this series; I know there are at least a few academic volumes out there on the topic. And of course I've yet to play the already legendary videogame.

You're coming, out of your shell!

Continuing my Huxley streak, not long ago I finished Antic Hay. It is the best Huxley book I've read outside of Brave New World. Here is a novel that is similar to his other early work, in that is it satirical and full of irony, but that establishes character and emotion more adequately than other early work.

We follow the exploits of a young teacher who has the idea of inflatable pants for people who sit at desks all day. We also spend time with a group of bohemian artists in London, an eclectic and interesting bunch. Huxley has really stepped forward with this novel, sacrificing none of his edge in terms of exploring philosophical concepts, but marrying this with much more solid characterization. Funny, to be sure, but moving and enduring in a sense that Chrome Yellow is not. Similar to a longer form of his short stories. A virtuoso performance. A novel of ideas and of people. What more do you want?

One criticism I will offer: Huxley seems to have trouble writing about people who are not part of his own social class (upper crust, to be sure). The perception of his work is sharp, but doesn't really extend beyond this group. While it is not easy to immediately identify with his characters, after some exposure you come to appreciate them.

I read books

It's been a while since I rapped at ya, as one of my favorite Onion columnists likes to say. And so it has, but that doesn't mean I've stopped reading books. I'll try to catch up on my lame opining soon. Today I offer I few sentences on The Ghost Map by Steven Johnson.

This is one of the best books I've read this year. It is light reading, but not to be taken lightly. It is multi-disciplinary, but doesn't lack focus. Johnson knows both how to turn a pretty phrase and how to compile his considerable knowledge of history, biology, and psychology in a readable and addicting way. The Ghost Map is non-fiction, but could easily have been a novel instead, given the interesting characters and structure of events.

The book chronicles an outbreak of cholera in London in 1854 (I think I correctly remember the year) which was particularly virulent. An entire neighborhood was afflicted in the course of a matter of days with no one really having a clear idea how cholera traveled, or how to combat the disease. Johnson covers the epidemic from the microbial level, as he tracks with astonishing cunning the course of the disease virtually from person to person; on the human level, as he pictures entire families suffering together in their homes, soon to become their final resting place; and the city-wide level, as he sees London as an organic whole. At the time of the outbreak, London was a city of two million, an unheard of number of people living together. At the time, individuals did not really have the tools or capacity to see themselves from a bird's eye view. Johnson follows closely two individuals: one a preeminent doctor trying to get the establishment to accept his view that cholera was a water-borne disease, and another a clergyman, who was close enough to the population to have unique insight into how the neighborhood operated.

Additionally, in the first half of the book, on almost every page there is some remarkable bit of knowledge about societies. Did you know that at one prior to the domestication of animals, the lactose intolerance was the default position for humans? I didn't. Or that those that can hold their alcohol have been naturally selected over time, due to the virtues of alcohol as an antibacterial agent? I was deeply intrigued by this stuff.

The second half of the book hits many of the same points as the first, making for some duplicative chapters, but I'm not going to hold that against Johnson. In the last chapter, he tries to make the leap from the London cholera outbreak of 1854 to such diverse topics as how the internet is changing society, and why we might have less to fear from terrorists releasing a biological agent into the population that we might now imagine. I'm not sure how right all his conclusions are, but I admire his willingness to try to apply the lessons of the past to a modern environment. The book is now out in paperback, and once you start it, it will be finished in a matter of days, if not hours.

Huxley's Short Stories and More Koontz

Defying Gravity has graciously helped me to learn how to put pictures with posts (I'm still getting used to computers) and so I offer her many thanks.

Huxley's short stories strike much the same tone as the earlier mentioned Chrome Yellow. They mostly about affluent people who simultaneously want to be accepted by their peers because of their artistic or intellectual qualities, but also feel disgust for society and the world at large. They know the world is hollow, but want to live in it anyway. It's certainly a common feeling and easy to identify with.

The stories have a strange way to being mostly lighthearted affairs, and then suddenly and without warning offering deadly serious insights into death or loneliness. There are at least half a dozen in the volume that are top shelf and deserve to be read and remembered more than they are. "Little Archimedes" is a standout, among others.

As far as I can tell, this collection is the only way to get ahold of Huxley's stories, so there are no alternatives with which I can compare it. Unfortunately there is no introduction or commentary on the stories, but given the available options I consider this book to have been a good purchase.

Also recently completely was another Koontz novel, The Key to Midnight. Originally published in 1979 under a pen name, Koontz re-wrote it and it was re-issued in the 1990s under his name. It is better than the last couple I have read by him, and I get the feeling that his newer work is a real improvement over his early stuff, so I think the re-write probably did the book a lot of good. It's a sort international mystery spy story, involving Russian KGB operatives and hypnosis and false memories, etc, etc. Pretty common Koontzian elements. It mostly takes place in Japan and features a ridiculous love story as well. It's completely unremarkable, which is actually about the nicest thing I've said about a Koontz book. A more or less straight ahead thriller, but hard to see how someone would get famous writing books like this.