Fight the Closing of Public Libraries

I have written before about the importance of libraries, but the topic is so crucial that I can’t resist writing about an article in the current (November 2011) issue of “The Progressive,” titled “Overdue Notice: Defend Our Libraries” and authored by Antonino D’Ambrosio. The author starts with a quote from Cicero: “If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.” The thrust of the article is the tremendous importance of libraries in allowing everyone access to the knowledge and pleasure provided by books, as well as to such practical assistance as use of computers and answers from librarians. In other words, libraries are an essential item in democracies. The free public library “is a wholly American invention advocating self-determination,” says the author, who then quotes Molly Raphael, president of the American Library Association, as stating that public libraries are “the most democratic of the institutions government has created.” But the author raises the alarm that “local governments across the United States…are slashing library budgets and closing libraries.” For example, New York City “recently closed fourteen branches, and 300 people lost their jobs.” A critical point: “These cuts will disproportionately punish poor and working class people.” One educator calls libraries “intellectual and cultural lifelines” for working people. And in this digital age, Raphael says, “Sixty-five percent of public libraries report that they are the only place in the community where there is free access to the Internet.” Libraries are also essential to democracies as gathering places. Losing them is “the disappearance of a town square, a free space open to all, regardless of race, class, or any other social barrier.” We must fight against the closing of libraries; they are too important to all of us, and to democracy.

The Joys of a New Pad of Paper

Upon acquiring a new legal pad the other day, to use for one of my academic projects, I had a sudden flash of memory of my first grade classroom. The teacher would hand out pieces of lined paper as needed, but one could also buy from the school one’s own pad of paper. I remember asking my mother if I could do that, her agreeing, and my then receiving my very own full pad of paper. What infinite riches that pad represented! Perhaps a hundred pages of fresh, clean, lined paper, all mine! I could fill those pages any way I wanted to! What joy! I can still remember the visceral pleasure of that moment. Hundreds of legal pads and notebooks later, I still occasionally get a flash of that same pleasure when I get a new pad or a new blank notebook. Each one is a clean slate, a new start, a new opportunity, a glimpse into the unknown future in which I will write something -- maybe something wonderful! -- on those so far unsullied pages. Hurray for the simple pleasures of life!

"There But For The," by Ali Smith

British writer Ali Smith’s novel “There But For The” (Pantheon, 2011) is a bit of an “odd duck” of a book, starting with the unusual title. Of course the title brings to mind the saying “There but for the grace of God go I”; this is not specifically referenced in the novel, but the reader can make some connections. Each section of the book is introduced with one of the four words in the title. With a little work, one can tease out the connection between the word and the events in that section, but it is sometimes an obscure one. The story is told in a somewhat nonlinear manner, and sometimes one does not know the intersections among characters until well along in the book. There are also some sections that are told in a stream-of-consciousness style, especially from the minds of two main characters: a young girl and a very old woman. So, in short, Smith does not make reading her novel easy. On top of that, her main plot point -- in which Miles, a man who goes to a dinner party at the house of someone he does not know, goes upstairs and locks himself into a guest room and stays there for some weeks -- risks being gimmicky. However, Smith tells a compelling story, portrays quirky and mostly very sympathetic characters, and writes with wit, authority and absolute control. I felt that the novel was deeply grounded in a great appreciation for the basic humanity of most people. Somehow all these diverse aspects of the novel hang together and make one want to keep reading.

Books Featuring Various Illegal Drugs

As a companion piece to my recent (10/30/11) list of books featuring alcohol and alcoholism, I list here books (mostly novels) that prominently feature (mostly) illegal drugs as part of their stories. Some would criticize the authors for romanticizing drugs or making them seem glamorous, and this does happen to some extent. But just as often, the books show the negative sides of drugs and, especially, drug addiction.

Bright Lights, Big City, by Jay McInerney
A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess
Confessions of an English Opium Eater, by Thomas de Quincy
The Doors of Perception, by Aldous Huxley
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, by Tom Wolfe
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, by Hunter S. Thompson
Junkie, by William Burroughs
Less Than Zero, by Brett Easton Ellis
The Man with the Golden Arm, by Nelson Algren
Naked Lunch, by William Burroughs
On the Road, by Jack Kerouac
Requiem for a Dream, by Hubert Selby, Jr.
Trainspotting, by Irvine Welsh

…and much of the poetry of Charles Baudelaire, Paul Verlaine, and Arthur Rimbaud.

I note, as a point of interest, that all of the books on this list are by male authors. We know that both men and women take drugs, but perhaps only men can take them as part of a macho, "guy" persona, and/or a bohemian, artistic, "living on the wild side" persona? Do women who take a lot of drugs simply seem pitiful? Is "living on the wild side" good for men's images but bad for women's?

No to Abridged Books

On 3/10/10, I wrote about fond memories of reading Readers Digest Condensed books when I was a child, despite my later negative feeling about abridged books. I said in that post that in general I "firmly believe that books should be read unabridged; abridging books seems unnatural, almost like mutilating them." I was thinking about this again recently, as a couple of times when I checked out an audiobook from the library, I realized after I took it home and looked at the very small print that the version of the book on CD was actually abridged. First, this annoyed me because I feel such an important fact should be clearly featured, to allow readers/listeners to make informed choices. Second, and this is more important, I don't understand the need for abridged versions of books. Maybe if the books are for young people with reading problems, or those just entering the world of reading, these books could provide a "bridge" (pun intended) to full versions of books. Or for not-very-literary bestsellers, something like Readers Digest Condensed could provide quick and fun reads for pure entertainment or for an introduction to the works of writers. But in general, I strongly dislike abridged works, and feel they cheat the reader of the full experience. I suspect most authors would also be very unhappy with having their works abridged.

More on "To the Lighthouse"

On 10/22/11 I wrote about listening to “To the Lighthouse” on CD, and how listening to it read made the meaning of the words, and the weight of their sounds, so tangible. I have now finished the novel, and just want to add here that the luminosity of the writing, the insights into the characters’ consciousnesses, and the awareness and capture of the hundreds of shifts of emotions people go through every day, are but a few of the awe-inspiring qualities of Woolf’s writing. For just one example, here is a description of Lily Briscoe’s thoughts as she paints at the Ramsay’s house on the Isle of Skye: “One wanted, she thought…to be on a level with ordinary experience, to feel simply that’s a chair, that’s a table, and yet at the same time, It’s a miracle, it’s an ecstasy.” How beautifully Woolf encapsulates the constant alternating of our consciousnesses between the quotidian and the sublime.

Books Featuring Alcohol and Alcoholism

Alcohol is found in so much literature, but there are some novels and plays that portray alcohol consumption and alcoholism particularly prominently. Some of them focus on alcoholism, while others show it more peripherally, but all show the ravages of alcoholism on characters’ – and their families’ – lives. Below is a sampling of those books. On 10/23/11, I wrote here about writers who were alcoholic; readers will note that some of the writers on that list were the authors of the books on the list below.

After This, by Alice McDermott
Bastard out of Carolina, by Dorothy Allison
The Beautiful and the Damned, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, by Rebecca Wells
Ellen Foster, by Kaye Gibbons
The Gathering, by Anne Enright
The Ginger Man, by J. P. Donleavy
Good Morning, Midnight, by Jean Rhys
The Great Santini, by Pat Conroy
Home, by Marilynne Robinson
John Barleycorn, by Jack London
Lie Down in Darkness, by William Styron
The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, by Brian Moore
Long Day’s Journey Into Night, by Eugene O’Neill
The Mayor of Casterbridge, by Thomas Hardy
Monkeys, by Susan Minot
The Power and the Glory, by Graham Greene
Rosie, by Anne Lamott
The Subterraneans, by Jack Kerouac
The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway
Tortilla Flat, by John Steinbeck
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith
Under the Volcano, by Malcolm Lowry
We Were the Mulvaneys, by Joyce Carol Oates
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, by Edward Albee
The Woman Who Walked into Doors, by Roddy Doyle