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Wednesday Outwaiting Pain
Oct. 23rd, 2019 01:24 pmA Realization
Last weekend I took some books to a used bookstore in Atlanta. I had about two-thirds of a box and was looking around for some extra books to fill it, and I realized that I've pared my books down enough that everything on the shelves is either something I want to read or something I want to keep for now. So now it's just a matter of reading those unread books. That may or may not be a good sign; it's still a lot of books.
Anyway, I ended up taking two boxes and bringing back four books, which is a pretty good ratio. And they were all books I wanted to read right away, rather than "interesting" or "reference" books likely to sit on my shelf for years on end.
What I've Finished Reading
I finished L'art de la Simplicité: How to Live More with Less a while ago, and there really isn't anything to say about it except that it's by far the laziest of all the incredibly lazy "simplify your life!" books I've been reading (a relative with mild-to-medium hoarding tendencies tends to accumulate them; I've been helping her de-accumulate). It's sloppy, judgmental, pushy, and infuriatingly vague. Maybe this is because the author is French and the French have different expectations from a self-help book, or maybe it's because the author is lazy and has already received an advance so who cares what the actual words are. But I wanted to share this passage, because it is one of the purest nuggets of nonsense in this bonanza bullshit mine:
Maybe author Dominique Loreau's grandparents had a great time during the Depression, putting flowers on everything and rediscovering true values. That's not impossible. EVERYONE, though? I have no idea what her source is (The Philadelphia Story? it's impossible to know because citing your sources is too much clutter for Loreau) but all this business about flowers and education is news to me. My family's Depression stories were all more along the lines of "sold the bed for scrap metal" and "found a can of beans in the street one time and ate it all at one go," so I am going to assume that experiences during this time, like experiences throughout history, were more varied than Loreau suggests.
Also, for all the time I spent obnoxiously making fun of the title You Are Not Stendhal (all of you outside my head don't know the half of it), I liked the title poem almost best of all. Overall not a life-changing book of poetry for me, but not awful for a random library pick. Maybe there will be others.
What I'm Reading Now
Codependence by Amy Long is a memoir about opioid use and opioid addiction, so far very mildy experimental (the first chapter is numbered block paragraphs, the next three are called "Product Warning" and "Patient Prescription Information") and potentially good, though it's too early to tell for sure. The Good Soldier Svejk continues amiable, dirty, and impervious to the military virtues.
Dubin's Lives is extremely good in a lot of ways, but Dubin is already making me sad, because his neurotic sweetheart of a wife Kitty is such a delight, and I already know from the back cover copy that he is going to embark on a "daring affair with a woman half his age." Man, how about you don't? Forget it, Jake, it's the 99 novels.
What I Plan to Read Next
All books there be must end at last. I have 550 pages left in Gravity's Rainbow, which means only 550 pages left tillOliver Wendell Holmes William Dean Howells! (I can't believe I mixed them up just because they both had three names, but on the other hand, I can D:). I can't wait, but I'm going to have to. I've also bought a book called You've Had Your Time, a memoir by Anthony Burgess, to read after I get done with his list.
Last weekend I took some books to a used bookstore in Atlanta. I had about two-thirds of a box and was looking around for some extra books to fill it, and I realized that I've pared my books down enough that everything on the shelves is either something I want to read or something I want to keep for now. So now it's just a matter of reading those unread books. That may or may not be a good sign; it's still a lot of books.
Anyway, I ended up taking two boxes and bringing back four books, which is a pretty good ratio. And they were all books I wanted to read right away, rather than "interesting" or "reference" books likely to sit on my shelf for years on end.
What I've Finished Reading
I finished L'art de la Simplicité: How to Live More with Less a while ago, and there really isn't anything to say about it except that it's by far the laziest of all the incredibly lazy "simplify your life!" books I've been reading (a relative with mild-to-medium hoarding tendencies tends to accumulate them; I've been helping her de-accumulate). It's sloppy, judgmental, pushy, and infuriatingly vague. Maybe this is because the author is French and the French have different expectations from a self-help book, or maybe it's because the author is lazy and has already received an advance so who cares what the actual words are. But I wanted to share this passage, because it is one of the purest nuggets of nonsense in this bonanza bullshit mine:
During the Great Depression of the 1930s, money was far less important than style. Almost every family had lost out, so that money was no longer a distinguishing factor from one household to the next. What counted instead were vocabulary and diction, education, moral values and a taste for things of quality. Everyone used their finest things every day, and put flowers on the table at mealtimes.
Maybe author Dominique Loreau's grandparents had a great time during the Depression, putting flowers on everything and rediscovering true values. That's not impossible. EVERYONE, though? I have no idea what her source is (The Philadelphia Story? it's impossible to know because citing your sources is too much clutter for Loreau) but all this business about flowers and education is news to me. My family's Depression stories were all more along the lines of "sold the bed for scrap metal" and "found a can of beans in the street one time and ate it all at one go," so I am going to assume that experiences during this time, like experiences throughout history, were more varied than Loreau suggests.
Also, for all the time I spent obnoxiously making fun of the title You Are Not Stendhal (all of you outside my head don't know the half of it), I liked the title poem almost best of all. Overall not a life-changing book of poetry for me, but not awful for a random library pick. Maybe there will be others.
What I'm Reading Now
Codependence by Amy Long is a memoir about opioid use and opioid addiction, so far very mildy experimental (the first chapter is numbered block paragraphs, the next three are called "Product Warning" and "Patient Prescription Information") and potentially good, though it's too early to tell for sure. The Good Soldier Svejk continues amiable, dirty, and impervious to the military virtues.
Dubin's Lives is extremely good in a lot of ways, but Dubin is already making me sad, because his neurotic sweetheart of a wife Kitty is such a delight, and I already know from the back cover copy that he is going to embark on a "daring affair with a woman half his age." Man, how about you don't? Forget it, Jake, it's the 99 novels.
What I Plan to Read Next
All books there be must end at last. I have 550 pages left in Gravity's Rainbow, which means only 550 pages left till
