Pamela Paul's "Books I Have Read" List and Mine

"Bob." That is the name Pamela Paul, a New York Times Book Review editor, gives the notebook in which she keeps a list of books she has read. "Book of Books" = "Bob." I enjoyed reading Paul's essay about Bob in the 4/15/12 NYT Book Review. But when she spoke of having kept her list for 24 years, I had to smile, with just a tiny touch of -- I admit it! -- superiority. Although I have never given it a name, I have kept such a list since earlyish childhood (see my posts about this when I first started this blog, on 1/24/10 and 1/25/10), for a total (so far!) of - ahem! - 51 years! I am now in "Volume III" -- which simply means in my third plain lined school notebook -- and have read a total of 5231 books (some are repeats). Paul and I differ a little bit in our list method. For example, she includes books she didn't finish, but marks them with "inc." for "incomplete"; I do not list unfinished books at all. She occasionally notes where she was when she read a certain book (China, France); I have not done that. I occasionally note whether the book is a repeat read, and whether I listened to the book in audio form. A similarity is the condition of the notebooks. She says "Bob is showing his age. At some point I spilled coffee on him; the gray cover is mottled, and one corner is woody and bare." My "Volume I," a notebook bought from the school supply store at my school in India, with the name of the Indian town on it, is worn at the edges, and Volume II shows some signs of age as well. But despite the large disparity in the number of years Paul and I have kept our notebooks of "books read" lists, we both value our lists very highly. Paul claims that "Were my house to burst suddenly into flames, I would bypass the laptop and photo albums...in order to rescue Bob," and I completely understand that statement!

"The Age of Innocence," by Edith Wharton

What can I say that hasn’t already been said many times about Edith Wharton’s wonderful, beautifully written, always revelatory novel, “The Age of Innocence”? All I can do is describe my own feelings when I read or hear it. I have read this book several times, and have just finished listening to it on CD. (Coincidentally, I wrote about my admiration of Wharton's work on 4/18/10, exactly two years ago.) Published in 1920, "The Age of Innocence" is set in the New York of the upper crust in the 1870s. Like most of Wharton’s novels, this book contrasts the great wealth and privilege held by its characters, on the one hand, and the way they are trapped by severe conventional limits on their behavior, on the other hand. Even the men are bound in this way, but they at least have some outlets, some freedoms, some possibilities that the women do not. There is only one way for women of this class at that time: the way of least resistance, the way of following society’s expectations to the letter. It is a kind of golden cage. The great (unconsummated) love affair between Newland Archer and Ellen Olenska is thwarted by society’s conventions. But Newland still has protections and possibilities; Ellen, as a woman separated from her husband but not allowed, by the standards of her family, to divorce, can never have a legitimate marriage or love again. Even May Welland, Archer’s wife, who is able to keep her husband, knows that his true love and passion is for another woman. Only time brings a kind of acceptance for all three of these characters. But Wharton’s fiction is a powerful reminder of the constrictions imposed on women by convention and of society’s punishments for those who attempt to break free. Wharton’s novels -- especially “The Age of Innocence” and “House of Mirth” -- are among those that I re-read every few years. I always learn something new from them and, despite the sad messages of these books, I also take pleasure in reading them, because of the beauty of the writing, and because of the exquisite portrayals of the characters and of the society in which they live.

"The Beginner's Goodbye," by Anne Tyler

The wonderful Anne Tyler knows so much about family, marriage, and aging, among the many things she is wise about. Over the years I have read almost all -- 17, I believe -- of her 19 novels. Her novels always seem deceptively plain and straightforward, with little in the way of embellishments, experimentation, or flash. But they are rich with real life, down-to-earth life, life that readers can relate to. Her recent novels have tended to feature mature (middle-aged or older) characters (see, for example, my 2/3/10 post on “Noah’s Compass”), and as a “mature” person myself, I appreciate this perspective. Tyler’s newest novel, “The Beginner’s Goodbye” (Knopf, 2012), also features a late-middle-aged character, Aaron, whose wife Dorothy has recently died, but has come back to visit him a few times. (Usually I don’t like fiction with elements of the supernatural, but this novel integrates these visits in such a natural, low-key way, and a way that is really just a device to explore Aaron’s feelings about Dorothy and about their marriage, that I didn’t find the device distracting.) Aaron, like many of Tyler’s protagonists, is somewhat of an introvert, and somewhat out of touch with his own feelings, but willing to learn, in his own slow-paced way. He had loved Dorothy deeply, and misses her badly, but he now sees that he had misunderstood and failed her in some ways during their courtship and marriage. Her occasional visits, and their conversations, give him a second chance to come to an understanding with her, and to achieve some peace for both of them. And by the time she stops visiting, he has realized that his life will go on, and that there is a possibility of joy and even love still awaiting him. “The Beginner’s Goodbye” is a novel about what we learn (if we are fortunate) as we get older, about the capacity to change, and about second chances.

Carl Sagan on Books

A Facebook friend posted this wonderful quotation on books from Carl Sagan:

"What an astonishing thing a book is. It's a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiqqles. But one glance at it and you're inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic."

"How To Be Black," by Baratunde Thurston

Baratunde Thurston’s “How To Be Black” (Harper, 2012) is, as one might expect from an “Onion” writer, a deft combination of humor and the serious. Tongue firmly in cheek, Thurston addresses not only racism, but also the discomfort that both African-Americans and those of other races – mainly white – often feel in talking about race. His chapter titles include “When Did You First Realize You Were Black?”, “How Black Are You?”, “Do You Know What an Oreo Is?”, “How to Be The Black Friend,” and “How to Be the Angry Negro.” Thurston includes many stories from his own life, stories that show the balancing act he has lived, and that inform his writing of this book. He grew up in 1980s Washington, D.C.; his father was shot during a drug deal when Thurston was six years old; his mother was a “hippie” and activist who made sure her son got an excellent education, attending an exclusive private school (Sidwell Friends) and at the same time attending a Saturday group on black history and culture (Ankobia). She wanted him to know and be proud of his black ancestry and culture, and at the same time to be comfortable anywhere in society. He went to Harvard; a multi-talented person, he now is, among other things, a blogger for Jack and Jill Politics and a writer for the Onion. There are so many pages I want to quote from, but just for one small sample: In the chapter “How to Be the Black Employee,” Thurston writes that once a black person is hired, he/she is expected not only to do the job she/he was hired for, but also a. to represent all black people; b. to prove that the company is not racist; and c. to “increase the coolness of the office environment.” As part of Job B, the black employee must join the ubiquitous “diversity committee”; the author states that “the primary functions of the diversity committee are to establish meetings, generate reports, and use the word ‘diversity.’” As someone who has, over the years –- like you, probably –- seen and perhaps been part of various diversity committees at various institutions (job, school, professional organization), all well intentioned, I have to smile at his description. Thurston intends this book to inform and to provoke thought and understanding; he uses humor as the vehicle, and does so very effectively.

"Make It Stay," by Joan Frank

Joan Frank’s brief new novel, “Make It Stay” (Permanent Press, 2012) is a meditation on friendship, marriage, what changes and what doesn’t, aging, and mortality. The main characters are two couples portrayed over a period of decades: the narrator, named Rae, her Scottish husband Neil, Neil’s best friend Mike, and Mike’s wife Tilda. They live in an idyllic small town in Northern California, where Mike -- an outsized (physically and socially) character -- befriends Neil (along with everyone else around). Neil is grateful to Mike for “adopting” him when he first moved to the area. Rae likes Mike but is a little cautious around him, and also has to be careful not to criticize him to Neil. Tilda is a somewhat unreadable and odd character; she and Mike don’t seem to fit together, and she and Rae do not get along well, although they preserve an amicable surface with each other for the sake of their husbands. The story ends in loss and sadness, yet the surviving characters have learned to treasure the life they have and its reassuring pleasures and joys. There is a bit of mystery about some of the characters and events, but the main themes of the novel are the vagaries of friendship and marriage, and -- as reviewer Elizabeth Benedict wrote -- “the frightening fragility of life.” Nothing can, in the long run, "make it stay" the same; life marches on. The author is particularly good at portraying the ups and downs of marriage, and the wonderful comfort that a longtime marriage can provide, if one is fortunate. Although Rae married late, and initially felt the marriage was possibly a mistake, she grew into it. “Against ridiculous odds we became a thing: part him, part me. All I know is it had to do with time” (p. 12). As someone married a long time myself, this resonates with me. As an aside, I enjoyed -- in this novel as in Frank’s earlier fiction (see my posts of 7/6/10 and 7/11/10) -- the Northern California setting; although she creates a fictitious town, it is redolent of areas and towns north of San Francisco that I have visited.

"Carry the One," by Carol Anshaw

“Carry the One” (Simon & Schuster, 2012), a novel by Carol Anshaw, is a sad but engrossing story of a group of young people who in 1983 were involved in a car accident that killed a young girl. For the rest of their lives, these (mostly related) characters remember and mourn the accident, and respond to it in different ways in their life choices and activities. Olivia, the driver, who was high at the time of the accident, chooses to go to prison; she doesn’t fight the case. Her boyfriend Nick, a gifted astronomer, loses himself in drugs and drink. His sister Alice, a talented painter, keeps painting the young girl at various stages of her life, as she imagines them. Their sister Carmen is an activist, fighting for every liberal cause, at the risk of her own safety. The way the characters are affected by, and deal with the aftermath of, the accident is one theme; the way their lives interweave over the years is another. The three siblings are united by their knowledge of their parents’ shortcomings, and by their fierce loyalty to each other. For example, Alice and Carmen, despite knowing how hopeless their efforts are, keep rescuing their brother Nick over and over again from the consequences of his horrific drug and alcohol binges. For most of the characters, there is some partial redemption by the end of the story, albeit redemption hard-earned over many years. And despite its sad premises, there is much else to savor in the novel: well-drawn characters, romance, love of family, art, travel, suspense, the ups and downs of the characters' lives, resilience on the part of some and not on the part of others, and more. For readers who look for believable characters and their relationships, this book will satisfy. The novel is also interesting in its evocation of American history and culture over the past thirty or so years.