Who the Hell is Martin Guerre?

I had to read "The Return of Martin Guerre" for my Trials class. It sucked. Now I realize, and have taken into account, the fact that historical writing is not meant to be entertaining, but for God's sake, the author of this book could have at least made an attempt. Her writing style was confusing and boring, the way she told the story (and the way she referenced trial documents and transcripts throughout) was disorganized, and many of the details she included were quite dry and unnecessary. The story itself was interesting, but she was horrible at telling it.

I'm glad it's over.

A Note On Naked Lunch

I have a policy: at page 50 of every book, I stop and decide whether or not to continue reading. I gave Naked Lunch the full 50 pages, and I decided to return it to the UWW library.

This book was supposed to horrify and disgust me, make me cringe and gag, make me sad and sick. It did not. I was not shocked or outraged, I was indifferent. Maybe I'm just heartless, but I could not dismiss the nagging feeling that drug users get what they get. So it goes.

I stopped reading because I felt there was no point and the book was intolerably boring (and confusing, but not in the good way). I might have kept reading if Burroughs had actually given up drugs after writing this book, just to support his efforts. He did not, so I owe him nothing.

Well Of Course That's How Doctors Think

I just finished How Doctors Think, by Jerome Groopman. It came highly recommended by the guys who wrote Freakonomics; needless to say, it was well below par. It stated very obvious things in a very roundabout, repetitive way.

It also broke one of my cardinal rules: leave out your religious beliefs, please and thank you. This guy (subtly) injected his own religious beliefs into a number of the stories, which I did not appreciate. To his credit, though, he did acknowledge some benefits of atheistic/agnostic viewpoints, however briefly.

If you must read this one, skim it.

Armageddon in Retrospect in Retrospect

I've been on a Vonnegut spree for a few days now and I always enjoy his brutal honesty, irreverence, and twisted humor. Armageddon in Retrospect was interesting, but I had false hopes for this book from the beginning: the second chapter was utterly brilliant and hilarious, which I should have known could not possibly have continued throughout the rest of the book. I wish I had read the second chapter last.

As I said to Lawton today, "It's a good book, but I don't know if you'll like it. You and you're Republican values and all..." To which he had a witty, however delayed, response. I didn't have a comeback. Maybe I'll have one tomorrow. Digression aside, the book is worth reading, but don't expect the entire book to be as delightful as the second chapter (a transcript of the speech he wrote and his son gave at Clowes Hall, Indianapolis in April, 2007 shortly after his death). So it goes.

Favorite Quote(s): "If anyone here should wind up on a gurney in a lethal injection facility, here is what your last words should be: 'This will certainly teach me a lesson.'"

"Religion can be Tylenol for a lot of unhappy people, and I'm so glad it works."

"I have the humorist Paul Krasner to thank for pointing out the big difference between George W. Bush and Hitler: Hitler was elected."

Haha

I Don't Have the Balls or Focus to Write a Real "This I Believe" Essay

"This I Believe" is a selection of essays written for NPR (out of New York, I believe). People submitted their stories/beliefs; people like Einstein, Gloria Steinem, William F. Buckley, and regular people like a nurse in Manhattan.

Decent book. Too much talk about religion, but I guess when someone asks you what you believe, the first thing that generally comes to mind is spirituality/religion/afterlife... Lawton wrote his own "This I Believe" after reading the book, but I am not sure what the most significant belief I hold is. So, I'll write a few one liners that constitute part of my beliefs, interpret them as you will.

I believe that reading makes you smarter, no matter what you read.

I believe in the capitalist system.

I believe in America.

I believe that the day I fully embraced my desire to wear only sweats (and everything that sweats represent: comfort, convenience, time saving, and cost effectiveness), was the day I fully embraced myself. Haha.

I believe people are who they are. You can't change that, so embrace it and play to your strengths.

I believe in doing whatever makes you happy without imposing on others' right to be happy.

I believe in abortion, gay rights, animal rights, and tolerance, even if you think people are full of shit.

I believe there is no god and no afterlife.

I believe that the opportunity for my success so far was made possible by my dad.

I believe House is not miserable as Wilson, Cuddy and some "insightful" patients insist he is.

This I believe.

Yes, God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian

77 pages + huge print = 33 minutes and 42 seconds of reading.

Glod Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian, by Kurt Vonnegut, was great. The deal is: Vonnegut coordinates with Dr. Kevorkian to go through a series of near death experiences (Kevorkian makes him 3/4 dead then brings him back) so he can interview dead people. There are three defining characteristics:
1. Each interview is incredibly short: Vonnegut captures the pure essence of each person's existence in just a few words
2. The intro line and sign off follow a pattern, look for it
3. There are factual details embedded in the text about Vonnegut's own beliefs and also about Dr. Kevorkian's trials

If you need a quick read to get back on track with 52 in 52, read this; but be careful, sometimes you forget it's fiction.

Favorite Quote: "I am a humanist, which means, in part, I behave decently with no expectation of reward or punishment in an Afterlife."

Choke by Chuck

I'll make this brief: apparently, most people are disturbed/disgusted with Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk (yes, the author of Fight Club); I thought it was brilliant up until the last 30 pages or so when it became semi-ridiculous. Though the very end makes up for pages 260-291 (out of 293).

His theme is fascinating and makes a great deal of sense, in a sick (and on some levels completely accurate) way. It's beautiful.

I Also Feel Bad About My Neck

I have always had a sneaking suspicion that I am secretly an old woman. All the signs were there: I am the only human inhabitant of my home (old woman characteristic exacerbated by the fact that my "roommates" are four cats - crazy cat lady, anyone?), I am currently on medication for a stomach ulcer, the last time I got really excited was two weeks ago when I bought a new mop, I have back problems (for which I do exercises on therapy balls and see a chiropractor), I have recently made special dietary alterations like switching to whole wheat grains and drinking vegetable juice, my roots are turning brown, etc.

My suspicions were confirmed by I Feel Bad About My Neck, by Nora Ephron. In the book, she talks about a number of different aspects of being an (older) woman - things from special "beauty" tips to finding old-person apartments in NYC to dying. She is very, very funny and it was quite a good read. I initially picked it up because I was eager to try out my new library card at the Lake Geneva Public Library and because Amanda said Nora had been on Chelsea Lately; I was immediately interested (plus, it's only 137 pages long!). The book did not disappoint.

I thought this book was very much like works by Malcolm Gladwell: random facts, anecdotes, and analyses of different situations all relating in some way to the central theme of the book, but Ephron was much more succinct (and less repetitive). She had some interesting points about everything from cooking to divorce to writing for major news publications. Anyone (female) looking for a light, quick, funny book that you can relate to in at least a couple ways, here you go.

Favorite Quote: "You can order more than one dessert."
Or, with a slightly more familiar twist: "You can order more than one of the same dessert."

I Felt Like House Reading This Book

I had no idea what to expect from What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, by Raymond Carver. There were two major conflicting ideas in my mind: Mr. Brower gave it five stars on goodreads (!), but its title (depending on the tone in which you read it) could sound sort of sappy. But, as previously stated, Brower gave it five stars so I could safely assume it wasn't a sappy, generic romance novel. What was it then?

It was fantastic. It's a collection of short stories, which don't really seem to relate. The common thread (with the exception of only two stories) is that the stories center around disfunctional relationships between married couples. The book is, in essence, a realistic telling of marriage; it avoids the idealized view of perfect "true love." It was quite refreshing.

The thing that separates this books is the writing style: minimalism. Everything is stripped away except the most vital details. No context is given for any story, but in four pages worth of prose, you are able to infer everything relevant about each character's life. More importantly, there is no explicit conclusion to any of the stories. The book is difficult for this reason: every detail is significant, but the reader has to decide why; then, the reader has to form his own conclusion based on the evidence. I felt like reading this book was like watching a Forensic Files episode without the narrator's commentary and without seeing the last five minutes: the facts are there, you know what the answer is, but it is never explicitly stated. No explanations are given, ever, but you know what happens and why, strictly based on the selection of detail. It's unsettling, but once I got used to it, I loved solving the puzzles.