What are you reading these days?

I've finally gotten around to reading The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Finally I'll be able to understand all those pop culture references! I'm having a romping good time. One of my most-loved TV shows is Futurama. I loved its style of absurd sci-fi comedy, so reading its literary progenitor has been pure delight and entertainment.

I must admit that my conception of the universe terrifies me: unfathomably large hypergiant stars, massive blackholes destroying said stars, and being separated in my little human dwelling from such cosmic violence by unfathomable distance that I could never cross in a million lives. It is an expanse seemingly devoid of non-earth life that I find more sterile, haunting, and creepy than beautiful. As Fermi asked, "But where is everyone?"

But fictions like Futurama and The HIitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy amuse me by imagining a universe that is not terrifying and dark but actually fun, vibrant, and populated by aliens who, like me, just want their central-or-whatever nervous system stimulant beverage when their planets revolve to face their sun (or suns) again.

I'm going through many of the Brontë novels at the moment. I just finished Wuthering Heights (1847) by Emily Brontë, which I enjoyed greatly for its complex depiction of familial interplay in the early Victorian period, and especially for its openness toward revealing the physical violence and emotional abuse that existed (and continues to exist) within outwardly well-to-do families. I was actually doing a reading based largely in childhood development, so I focused heavily on the adventures of young Heathcliff and Catherine in the moors. The narrator's point of view necessarily omits their specific experiences, but the reader can speculate in any number of ways. My take would be something relatively metaphysical, or potentially sexual; either would explain the otherwise inexplicable attachment the two have to each other in an environment that constantly seeks to tear them apart. Paired with a heavy Romantic influence of the period, the concepts and imagery associated with the landscape surrounding them offers a unique presentation of self-actualization as mediated in equal parts by the natural environment and deep social connections.

I'm also several chapters into Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre (1847). I'm surprised with the depth of the narrator Jane's introspection and the strength of the imagery she conjures up in her descriptions of her classmates, teachers, and self. I've read novels set in a similar environment before—it's reminiscent in many ways of Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess (1905)—but I think Jane has a particularly striking way of looking at the world that I haven't seen in many other texts. Knowing Charlotte's experience as a teacher (a job that she absolutely hated, writing in her journal how much she despised her students; though perhaps more because she felt constrained than anything else) provides a lot of context to the work. It certainly doesn't denigrate the agency of the child, nor does it strike me as emphasizing the same didactic "hearth and home" values as the ones constantly espoused in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women (1868), which I found both touching and at times mildly disingenuous. I'm not sure I would call Charlotte's novel an overt critique of womanhood per se (nor, I suspect, would she), but it definitely has some important commentary; much of it is just nestled between the lines. I'm curious to see where the rest of the novel leads me.

I've just finished One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Salt Fat Acid Heat by Samin Nosrat, and The Last Continent by Terry Pratchett. One Hundred... is incredible. I'm not sure what else to say about it. Marquez uses the contrast of magic and realism, and that of linear and cyclical time, so expertly that the themes rise above the narrative, with no effort needed from the reader to discern them. The Last Continent, conversely, is one of the strangest Discworld novels so far. I feel like I missed some major subtext, but it was hilarious regardless. Salt Fat Acid Heat is an excellent guide for anyone unfamiliar with the mechanics of cooking. I've been cooking since my childhood, but it still filled in some major blindspots of my limited culinary education.

Since then, I've started on Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, as well as a restart of Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. Pilgrim so far seems like a testament tothe beauty of nature, and what we can learn from even the simplest interactions with our wild neighbours. It's beautiful prose. Catch-22 is a lot of fun, and I've not finished it yet, so I'm looking forward for the fun to end.

I've started Melville's Moby-Dick, it has the reputation to be difficult, and even thought some of the vocabulary is hard, I enjoy it so far. I read it aloud and I'm having fun with it. Lots of good quotable bits :

Yes, we became very wakeful; so much so that our recumbent position began to grow wearisome, and by little and little we found ourselves sitting up; the clothes well tucked around us, leaning against the head-board with our four knees drawn up close together, and our two noses bending over them, as if our kneepans were warming-pans. We felt very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors; indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the room. The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more. But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.

Joan Didion's essays are probably some of my favorite reads of all time --- but man, I'm not feeling the fiction nearly as much. The writing is still beautiful, however, so I stick with 'em.

I'm going through Democracy right now and did A Book of Common Prayer a few weeks ago. I'm going to cover the other three anyway, but I'm just struggling. haha

I finished The Count of Monte Cristo last week and, as I've said about every other classic, there's a reason this book is legendary. Until now, I'd only watched the movie with Jesus -- but they changed so much of it from the source. Not for better or worse, just different.

After Democracy, I think I'm going to head into the Ripley series that The Talented Mr. Ripley was based on. There are five of them, so I might do two and alternate with some Nick Adam's stories from Hemingway.

Just dipped my toe into Kafka on the Shore by Murakami. I've read Norwegian Wood, so I'm familiar with his style. So far it's as great as it's acclaim. There's a reason he won a noble prize.

I try to read one fiction and one non fiction concurrently. So the other book was recommended by my geologist friend, called, Timefulness; How Thinking Like a Geologist Can Help Save the World. Amazing read so far that gives great insight into the Deep Time of they planet and the tools geologists have developed to determine that. It certainly highlights how badly we're fucking ourselves over as a species on the lonely rock. But that's fairly evident these days. Great read though.

This was a good month, I’ve not read as much as I’d have liked to during the lockdown, but now I’m making up for it. This month I’ve read:

• Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman (non-fiction, social-science)
  This is an excellent book with tons of incredible historical anecdotes. The author set out to tell a narrative and I feel it sometimes reached a little far, but it was an important read nonetheless. Here’s one of the stories from the book published in The Guardian. If you haven’t read Rutger’s Utopia for Realists, I recommend that over this, but I still highly recommend this one nonetheless.
• Don’t Move by Darren Wearmouth and James S. Murray (fiction, horror)
  You may recognize the name James S. Murray from The Impractical Jokers, that’s Murr. I listened to the audiobook of this one and, while I love Murr’s voice, he has a very friendly voice. This is supposed to be a serious book, and Murray can’t pull off a serious voice. There’s also one—just one!—reference to The Impractical Jokers in the book, and that rubbed me the wrong way. It’s a quick read and well-paced, but the story just wasn’t interesting enough for me.
• Why We’re Polarized by Ezra Klein (politics, non-fiction)
  I enjoyed this one so much. The incredible history and the research you learn about in this book is spectacularly interesting. It provides historical accounts of U.S. politics as well as a thorough analysis on today’s political climate. While it provides some ideas, it doesn’t claim to be the solution. I highly recommend this one.
• Infinite Country by Patricia Engel (fiction)
  I went in knowing nothing other than a sexual assault warning, I was expecting worse. The writing style was unique, which was a little hard to follow at first, but I enjoyed getting an up-close perspective on U.S. immigration.

Hopefully I’ll read more enjoyable fiction books in April, as well as non-fiction books even half as enjoyable as the ones I read this month.

I've finally followed through with my previous comment and have finally come around to starting Anniversaries: From a Year in the Life of Gesine Cresspahl by Uwe Johnson. Only ~30 pages in, so far... but I can already tell this is going to be my jam.

I read Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson recently which I highly recommend. It systematically goes through different ills that Stevenson has faced as his role of something similar to a public defender in the Deep South. It also goes in depth in the story of one of his clients who was wrongly put on death row. It has an interesting structure and very well written prose. It is one of the best books I have read in the past year.

This, by Emanuel Carrere: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/12/12/books/review/97196-words-emmanuel-carrere.html

If you haven't read any of his novels before, it's a great place to start as it's a bunch of essays, so less commitment.

I'm on a phase which nothing that i start reading grabs my attention. I dropped three books in a row already.

The thing i like most about the Kindle, which is reading at night in bed to fall asleep, is the thing that is making me not retain anything. I read 5 pages and fall asleep.

Lately i've been sleeping fine without using it, so i'm starting with some easy read. I started Red Dragon, by Thomas Harris, today.

Just read Octavia Butler’s Bloodchild without really knowing anything about her stuff, and my goodness was that fun!

Despite the Death. An Anthology of Secret Teachings about Death and Dying in the Dzogchen Tradition of Tibetan Buddhism.

I love Buddhism, but it can be difficult in places without preparation. That is why they say correctly, you must first finish school before trying to study at the university. An interesting book containing 2500 years of practical experience of practitioners.

Just finished a string of sci-fi, the last of which was Matter by Iain M Banks, and am starting Red Country by Joe Abercrombie.

Matter was good but I hated the ending.