Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Dostoyevsky and Solzhenitsyn

16 Beautiful Flowers Animated Gifs

Hello! I hope you had a happy Mother’s Day. I’ve finished with my final exams at last which is very exciting.

I’ve also just got two super-new books in the mail, one called Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri and the other called A Swim in a Pond in the Rain by George Saunders, and…

…and you’ll have to wait until next week for my reviews of them.

In the meantime, I’ve read two less-new books. Both are about prison for some reason. Hopefully they’ll tide you over until next week.

The House of the Dead, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Dostoyevsky Is the Limit?! | Dostoyevsky, Russian writers, Popular culture

“In our convict establishment there were men whom I was familiar with for several years, and whom I looked upon as wild beasts and abhorred as such; well, all of a sudden, when I least expected it, these very men would exhibit such an abundance of feeling of the best kind, so keen a comprehension of the sufferings of others, seen in the light of the consciousness of their own, that one might almost fancy scales had fallen from their eyes. So sudden was it as to cause stupefaction; one could scarcely believe one’s eyes or ears. Sometimes it was just the other way: educated men, well brought up, would occasionally display a savage, cynical brutality which nearly turned one’s stomach, conduct of a kind impossible to excuse or justify, however much you might be charitably inclined to do so.”

The House of the Dead was a very interesting book. Dostoyevsky wrote it based on his experiences in Siberian prison, and it felt more like a memoir than a piece of fiction. It was especially interesting because Dostoyevsky described a few people who sounded an awful lot like characters in his future works, like The Brothers Karamazov.

For some reason the protagonist came off like a scientist. He was always like, “Something interesting about the prisoners was XYZ” or, “Many people might expect prisoners to be like ABC, but in reality, they weren’t,” or, “As my time in prison went on, I came to more fully understand the psychology of LMNOP.” Because the protagonist felt so much like an outsider, it also sometimes felt like he wasn’t really in the prison with everyone else.

Contrast that with Solzhenitsyn’s huge nonfictional book, The Gulag Archipelago (review coming whenever I finish reading it) where he takes a similar kind of systematic approach to examining the USSR’s gulags. However, in his case, every single page (so far) is brimming with his anguish about being a prisoner in the gulags.

One great thing about Dostoyevsky’s book was that he was very good at seeing the good in the bad (like in the quote above). I felt like I got to understand the prisoners very well. It reminded me a lot of James Berry’s My Experiences as an Executioner for this reason, except that Dostoyevsky’s book felt much less grim (thankfully). This humanity alone makes The House of the Dead worth reading.

Even so, there was a lot of repetition. Dostoyevsky literally wrote things like, “Prisoner X was a cobbler who got into prison because of ABC and now he worked in prison smuggling vodka,” and then went on in a later chapter to retell this prisoner’s story with exactly the same details as if the reader had never heard of him before. Or he’d write about how Prisoner Y stole the protagonist’s Bible once and then told him about it not out of guilt but out of pity for the fact that he’d spent so long searching for it. Several chapters later, Dostoyevsky would retell this story as if he were introducing Prisoner Y for the very first time.

I was listening to this on audiobook, so I felt like I was being told the same story over and over again by someone who kept forgetting what he’d just told me.

The House was also surprisingly unfocused. Dostoyevsky would start a scene with a character entering the prison kitchen, then ramble on for a long time about everything but the character who’d entered the kitchen. Finally, he’d meander back to the character who’d entered the kitchen, but by then I’d forgotten all about him and why he was relevant. Then Dostoyevsky would say something very brief about the character getting called out of the kitchen, and that would be the last we’d see of the character for the whole book. Or he’d go on about the prison’s vodka-smuggling business but then start talking about the bath-houses in the prison and then the first time he’d done hard labor, and his last days in prison, and so on, without any real sense of why he was telling these things other than the fact that he felt like it.

So overall, I’d say this book was very good in terms of its psychological and human insights. I also got the sense that Dostoyevsky was transformed by his experience in prison. That makes this book interesting to read, but it absolutely does not make it his best.

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich,
by Alexander Solzhenitsyn

Red Spoon GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

“He began eating [….] This was it. This was good. This was the brief moment for which a prisoner lives. For a little while, Shukov forgot all his grievances, forgot that his sentence was long, that the day was long, that once again there would be no Sunday. For the moment he had only one thought: We shall survive. We shall survive it all. God willing, we’ll see the end of it.”

This is another book about prisons, written by another Russian ex-prisoner named Alexander Solzhenitsyn. His book was literally published 100 years after Dostoyevsky’s account of prison-life (Dostoyevsky’s in 1862 and Solzhenitsyn’s in 1962).

It was interesting to see what changed and what stayed the same. For instance, prisoners could rely on going to the hospital to get reprieve in Dostoyevsky’s time, but this was no longer the case in Solzhenitsyn’s time. However, prisoners still stole each other’s belongings in both accounts, even if prisoners in Solzhenitsyn’s book seemed to show slightly more camaraderie than the ones in Dostoyevsky’s account.

On its own terms, One Day chronicled a day in the life of a fictional prisoner named Ivan Denisovich Shukov. It was told very mundanely: He woke up, pretended to be sick, failed to get admitted to the infirmary, went to get a meal, knew the best way to hide his food in his jacket, and so on. It was very casual in that way. I kept expecting something dramatic to happen but it never did.

In the meantime, I was continually surprised by how much meaning people could find in small things, like a spoon or a piece of bread or a cigar-stub.

Understatement also made the book’s ending more powerful. I won’t spoil it, but it really put life into perspective.

Until next week!

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Rayfield and Tolstoy

Hi! Happy almost-finals period! I’ll be brief. One book I’ve reviewed is super long, and the other is super-short, and you’ll never guess which is which by the title of this post…

Anton Chekhov, A Life, by Donald Rayfield,
Read by Fred Williams

Lion Vs Mongoose – Find and Share Funny Animated Gifs | Curiosidades  animales, Animales gif, Felinos

“There were few diversions. The pianist Samuelson came and played Chopin’s C Major Nocturne for Anton. Gorky, after illegally stopping in Moscow for an ovation at the Moscow Arts Theater, kept Anton company. When he visited, a gendarme patrolled outside. A wild crane broke off its flight south to join the surviving tame crane in Anton’s garden […] Visitors filled Anton’s study with smoke and made him miss meals. Masha did not come until 18 December, followed by Bunin.”

This book was huge but it was very fun. I mean it was an audiobook, but still. It was a biography of Chekhov, and from it I learned that he wasn’t the mild-mannered gloomy person I thought he was, but a womanizer.

He was also super-dysfunctional. In fact, another title for this book could have been, “Chekhov and His Dysfunctional Family.” Seriously. I felt like I was listening to an audiobook version of a reality TV show set in the 1800s. That was a very small part of what made it fun.

What made it more fun was the narrator, Fred Williams. He was terrific. He read in a completely straight voice, but somehow, the way he read things was very entertaining (especially when describing the shenanigans of Chekhov’s pet mongoose, or narrating that time when Chekhov “descended upon his old garden to salvage any remaining plants to bring back to his new garden”). So in other words the narrator and the narration were perfectly-matched.

Overall, this was a very enjoyable book. I would recommend it, and I would especially recommend the Fred Williams reading of it.

Short Stories by Leo Tolstoy, by Leo Tolstoy,
Read by Bart Wolffe

최고 Tree Falling GIF들 | Gfycat

“During the night, Delesov was aroused by the noise of a falling table in the anteroom and the sound of voices and stamping feet. ‘Just wait a little, I will tell Dmitri Ivanovitch!’ said Zakhar’s voice. Albert’s voice replied passionately and incoherently. Delesov leapt up and went with a candle into the anteroom. Zakhar in his night dress was standing against the door. Albert in cap and alma viva was trying to pull him away and was screaming at him in a pathetic voice, ‘You have no right to detain me! I have a passport! I’ve not stolen anything from you! You must let me go! I will go to the police!’ ‘I beg of you Dmitri Ivanovitch,’ said Zakhar, turning to his barin and continuing to stand guard at the door, ‘he got up in the night, found the key in my overcoat pocket, and has drunk up the whole decanter of sweet vodka. Was that good? And now he wants to go. You didn’t give me orders and so I could not let him out.’”


A short book written by Tolstoy? Unheard of!

Well, this is a short story collection so it’s not necessarily a book in and of itself (unlike his Childhood). Even so, it is unexpectedly short, with five stories within.

The first story was undoubtedly the best. It was called “The Three Hermits.” I won’t spoil it but it was basically magical realism at its finest.

The second story, “Three Deaths” was the second-best. Tolstoy’s narration was like a camera, and the story itself was very sad. Just look at that title!

The fourth story, called “God Sees the Truth but Waits,” was also interesting for its deep humanity in the face of inhumanity.

The other two stories, “Albert” and “Ermak” were interesting, but not as good. Well, actually, “Albert” was interesting. It was about a genius violinist who was also homeless.

“Ermak” absolutely wasn’t interesting. It was basically about a bunch of Cossacks killing a bunch of Tatars, and it read more like a history textbook than a story by Tolstoy.

In other words, read “The Three Hermits,” and then if you have time, read “Three Deaths” and “God Sees the Truth but Waits,” and then if you REALLY have time, read the other two.

Then, if you’re feeling daring, go read some of his longer works.

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Hernández and Tokarczuk (Bilingual Edition!)

Hello/Hola! I read two books for this week, in the middle of finals period. One is Spanish, the other is translated into English. I’ve reviewed the Spanish one in Spanish and English. I’ve reviewed the English one in English (pero puedes encontrar una otra reseña del libro de Tokarczuk en español aquí).

El Dolor de los Demás (The Pain of Others),
by Miguel Ángel Hernández

Mini Cooper Sun GIF by MINI USA - Find & Share on GIPHY

Español:

“Mientras mi prima hablaba, tuve la sensación de que Rosi [la hermana muerta del asesino muerte Nicolás] resucitaba, de que volvía a vivir. Pero no de ese modo macabro en que ella o Nicolás habitaban mis sueños o mis recuerdos, sino de un modo más auténtico, más real. Lo tuve claro; en esa conversación había más vida que en todo lo que yo había escrito. A pesar de la tristeza y de la evocación del dolor. Rosi había vuelto a la vida durante un momento. Y yo, por primera vez, había sentido compasión sincera. Ella había sido una historia, un cuerpo lleno de emociones, una vida. Y él, mi amigo, Nicolás, la sombra que lo había arrebatado todo.”

Este libro es una mezcla entre ficción y nonficción—el cuento de un chico cuyo amigo mejor mató a su hermana propia y entonces mató si mismo actualmente occurrió al autor. Los partes del libro que son “ficción” son los narrativos del segundo-person que son intercalados a través la historía que recrean el evento en el tenso presente.

Digo que son “ficción” porque están basado en los recuerdos del autor como niño en vez de recuerdos más recientes. Este puede darles una calidad de más subjectividad que los otros partes del libro, que están narrados como una memoria sobre el autor y sus esfuerzos para escribir el propio libro que ya estamos leyendo.

El libro fue bien escrito, y el uso de elementos experimentales fueron interesantes y exitosos en mi opinión, porque no les distraían de los eventos del texto.

A veces, parecía como el autor pensaba que sus reacciones a la tragedía fueron los partes más importantes del cuento (en contraste a las reacciones de todas las otras personas, como la familia de los hermanos muertos), pero el autor eventualmente subvirtió esta expectación. Quizás pudiera hacerla más antes.

En cualquier caso, este libro fue entretenido leer, y aunque está solamente disponible en el español ahora (excepto para este excerpto), tal vez sea traducido al inglés eventualmente.

English:

“While my cousin talked, I had the sensation that Rosi [the dead sister of the dead assassin Nicolás] was resurrected, that she returned to live. But not in that macabre way in which she or Nicolás inhabited my dreams or my memories, but in a way more authentic, more real. It was clear; in that conversation there had been more life than in all that I had written. In spite of the sadness and the evocation of pain. Rosi had come to life for a moment. And I, for the first time, had felt sincere compassion. She had been a story, a body filled with emotions, a life. And him, my friend Nicolás, the shadow that had taken away everything.”

This book is a mix between fiction and nonfiction—the story of a boy whose best friend murdered his own sister and then killed himself actually happened to the author. The “fiction” part of the story comes through the second-person narratives that are interspersed through the story which recreate the event in present-tense.

I call them “fiction” because they’re based on the author’s childhood memories rather than on more recent ones. This may give them more subjectivity than the other parts of the book, which are narrated like a memoir about the author as he tries to write the very book we’re now reading.

The book itself was well-written, and the experimental approach was interesting and successful in my opinion because they didn´t distract from the events in the story.

Sometimes it felt like the author thought that his own reactions to the tragedy were the most important parts of the story (as opposed to the reactions of everyone else, like the dead childrens’ family) but the author eventually went on to subvert this expectation. Maybe he could have done it sooner, though.

In any case, the book was entertaining to read, and even though it’s only available in Spanish as of now (save for this excerpt), it may or may not be translated into English eventually.

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead,
by Olga Tokarczuk

Happy Mr Plow GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

“After the rain Sirius had appeared, and the handle of the Big Dipper had risen…I wondered whether the stars can see us. And if they can, what might they think of us? Do they really know our future? Do they feel sorry for us? For being stuck in the present time, with no chance to move? But it also crossed my mind that in spite of all, in spite of our fragility and ignorance, we have an incredible advantage over the stars—it is for us that time works, giving us a major opportunity to transform the suffering, aching world into a happy and peaceful one.”

(Otra vez, reseña en Español Aquí)

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead was next to Tolstoy in my local library. I saw it when I took out the first draft of War and Peace and I saw it when I replaced the first draft War and Peace. So I decided to take a stab at it.

The book’s a murder mystery set in Poland. The book jacket calls it a “thriller cum fairy tale” for some reason, even though not much is fairy tale-ish about it except for a section where the protagonist goes to a dance dressed as the Big Bad Wolf and someone else dresses as Little Red Riding Hood.

Anyway, the murder mystery. A bunch of people are mysteriously killed and nobody knows why. The protagonist, an old woman named Janina, thinks it’s animals come to take their revenge on humans for hunting them all these millennia. Others are skeptical. In any case, the murderer is on the loose, and that makes for a good plot-summary cliffhanger.

Considering this book was shelved next to the first draft of the best book ever written, I had a bunch of stupid preconceptions in my head when I started reading it. While it wasn’t Tolstoy, the book was still surprisingly well-written and funny. Tokarczuk was able to feel compassion for her characters, which was very refreshing. She was also able to go on these philosophical tangents without coming off as stuffy or self-important, which was also very refreshing. She had these Stylistic Choices (like Capitalizing Random Letters) that could have been Obnoxious but Weren’t, which was refreshing, too. Finally, she was able to avoid a bunch of clichés, which was…

Anyway. There was a twist ending, but I felt it got foreshadowed a bit too soon for it to feel impactful at the moment when the author clearly wanted it to be impactful. The rest of the ending was also kind of confusing, because characters did things and we didn’t understand why (or at least I didn’t).

So overall, this was a very refreshing book. Tokarczuk also went on to win the Nobel Prize, which is something I didn’t know from reading this book because it was published before she won it and the book-jacket only said that she won the Man Booker International Prize for another one of her books.

Moral of the story: Read the book, and never trust a book-jacket.

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Chekhov and Kawabata

Hi! I hope you’re all healthy and safe, and are getting vaccinated if you are able. I’ve been writing papers and studying for finals, so I haven’t had much time to read, but I did have time for one entertaining story and one beautiful one:

“Kashtanka,” by Anton Chekhov

Dog walker GIFs - Get the best gif on GIFER

“When it got quite dark, Kashtanka was overcome by despair and horror. She huddled up in an entrance and began whining piteously. The long day’s journeying with Luka Alexandritch had exhausted her, her ears and her paws were freezing, and, what was more, she was terribly hungry. Only twice in the whole day had she tasted a morsel: she had eaten a little paste at the bookbinder’s, and in one of the taverns she had found a sausage skin on the floor, near the counter — that was all. If she had been a human being she would have certainly thought: ‘No, it is impossible to live like this! I must shoot myself!’ [….] But she thought of nothing, she simply whined.”

This story is about a dog named Kashtanka who gets separated from her master and wanders around the streets. She eventually gets taken in by a mysterious stranger who turns out to be a circus-master. Thus begins her career in the circus.

The story was fun to read. It has around 10 chapters, but each chapter was rather short. Their titles were funny, too.

It was also interesting to see Chekhov think that dogs could see in color (even though they’re color-blind), so I kept being put off by that small detail. The end (not spoiling anything here) also felt a bit too convenient, like there wasn’t enough of a struggle to deserve it.

Even so, if you’re sort of stressed from writing papers and studying for final exams, this would be a terrific story to read on your break!

“The Pomegranate,” by Kawabata Yasunari

foodpornindex.com - www.jillepstein.com

“‘Kimiko, Kimiko!’ her mother called. ‘Keikichi is here.’ Kimiko had let her needle come unthreaded. She pushed it back into the pincushion. ‘Kimiko had been saying how she wanted to see you again before you leave.’ Keikichi was going to war. ‘But we could hardly go and see you without an invitation, and you didn’t come. It was good of you to come today.’ She asked him to stay for lunch, but he was in a hurry. ‘Well, do at least have a pomegranate. We grew it ourselves.’ She called up to Kimiko again. He greeted her with his eyes, as if it were more than he could do to wait for her to come down. She stopped on the stairs. Something warm seemed to come into his eyes, and the pomegranate fell from his hand.”

“The Pomegranate” is about a girl named Kimiko who picks a pomegranate. There’s a lot more to the story than that (as you can kind of see from the excerpt) but telling you any more will spoil things.

Just read it instead. It literally takes less than a minute and will be super-worth it. Kawabata also won the Nobel Prize, if that helps convince you.

Moral of the story: Just go and read it already 🙂

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Lonergan

Hello! I hope you’re all well. It’s the season of final exams and allergies, so I wanted to read something funny…

“Lobby Hero,” by Kenneth Lonergan

GIF 5x18 season 5 episode 18 - animated GIF on GIFER

“WILLIAM. OK, good. I’m glad to hear it. But that’s why I try to get you to improve your mind a little bit and apply yourself to something. Aim a little higher. But I can see it’s a hopeless cause. You’re probably intended to be just one of those guys who drifts through life doing one job or another, no plan, no specific intentions of any kind. And one day you’re gonna wake up in a lobby just like this one, except everybody’s gonna be calling you ‘Pops.’ And then you’re gonna look back and remember, ‘I should have listened to that guy William. He’s the only one that ever took the time to try to encourage me to cultivate my potential. My whole family was content to see me fritter my life away, but that William, man, he really tried to get me to focus my energies a little bit. And doddering useless old unemployed Pops doorman that I am, I have to admit he could have been a positive influence on me if I hadn’t been such a callous, careless kind of joke-telling, sit-on-my-ass-my-whole-life type of person when I was younger.’ But I guess that’s all right, because you’re not really trying to climb any higher anyway. You see what I mean?”

“Lobby Hero” probably could have been called, “The Play in Which Everyone Tries to Figure Stuff Out.” It’s about a man named Jeff who works in a lobby. He’s trying to figure out his life. Meanwhile, his boss William has a brother who’s in trouble with the police. William has to figure out how to help his brother, and one of the police officers, named Dawn, has to figure out her relationship with one of her superiors.

Parts of this play reminded me a lot of Neil Simon’s “Plaza Suite” in terms of their levity and humor. That was very surprising, considering that the playwright of “Lobby Hero” was the same man who wrote the script for that super-sad movie from a few years back. You know, the one called Manchester by the Sea.

In any case, “Lobby Hero” felt a bit like a sketch instead of a fully fleshed-out experience. Maybe it was because the entire play took place in a lobby and 90% of the play’s important action happened off-stage. That meant the majority of the play consisted of characters talking about all the interesting things that happened in other places. Imagine the entirety of “Hamlet” being told from the perspective of one of the pirates who capture Hamlet during his voyage to England—“Oh, yes, I knew Prince Hamlet, he was a bloke I captured. He had to avenge the death of his father, who was killed by his uncle. Did Hamlet succeed? Oh, yes, his friend Horatio just sent me a postcard telling me he did. Well, that’s all there is to that story. Now I have to figure out my life.”

In other words, all of the interesting action felt like it was just being summarized instead of being enacted on the stage, which took away from its power.

This type of approach could work in certain cases (like Chekhov’s “The Cherry Orchard” or O’Neill’s “Long Day’s Journey Into Night”), but the character’s inner-life has to be interesting enough to compensate for the plot’s lack of immediacy. In Chekhov and O’Neill, the characters had a lot of cool layers, subtext, and secrets that the audience didn’t learn about right away.

Meanwhile, considering the fact that Jeff’s only real depth was that he couldn’t figure his life out and that the audience basically came to understand that upfront, his inner-life didn’t feel interesting enough to make the play feel fleshed out. The same felt true for the other characters, too.

So basically, read “Lobby Hero” if you want to see the writer of Manchester by the Sea being funny. That alone is pretty enjoyable.

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Auburn, James, and Vonnegut

Hello! Happy spring. For those who celebrate, I hope you enjoyed your Easter. I’ve been writing a lot of papers for school, but I still managed to read three books. For your enjoyment, here they are:

“Proof”, by David Auburn

Episode 19 Math GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

“CATHERINE. I haven’t been lazy, I’ve been taking care of you. ROBERT. Kid, I’ve seen you. You sleep till noon, you eat junk, you don’t work, the dishes pile up in the sink. If you go out it’s to buy magazines. You come back with a stack of magazines this high—I don’t know how you read that crap. And those are the good days. Some days you don’t get up, you don’t get out of bed. CATHERINE. Those are the good days. ROBERT. Bullshit. Those days are lost. You threw them away. And you’ll never know what else you threw away with them—the work you lost, the ideas you didn’t have, discoveries you never made because you were moping in your bed at four in the afternoon.”


This is a play about a woman named Catherine who took care of Robert, her mathematical genius of a father who was suffering from delusions. Robert has just died, and now a mysterious proof has been found among his belongings which might revolutionize the field of mathematics…a proof that may have been written by Catherine.

This play was interesting but not very good in my opinion. Mind you, it won a Pulitzer Prize, but I’ll give my thoughts anyway:

First, the play’s structure hinged on a mystery that somehow seemed irrelevant to the story’s overall arc. Maybe this was because the characters never really grew as a result of the mystery. In other words, it was like the mystery was happening to the characters instead of the characters actually growing and making meaningful choices that solved the mystery. That disconnect seemed to weaken the story.

Second, the characters felt more like “types” than actual nuanced people. For instance, there are plenty of angry-but-secretly-vulnerable women out there in the literary world, and the protagonist of this play was one of them. I was excited to see if something would happen to give her more depth and nuance, but nothing did.

Third, some of the dialogue wasn’t believable. At one part, I got the sense that the playwright was just writing what he thought a genius would sound like without thinking about how such a genius could possibly exist in reality.

Finally, there were loads of backstory dumps that felt like they were just in the play for the sake of informing the audience instead of something the characters had an organic need to say. When you have lines similar to, “Your father was a genius, Catherine, surely you know how he revolutionized the math world”, you tend to stop and wonder why the other character is telling Catherine something she obviously already knew.

So overall, the play had some good parts but it wasn’t that good in my opinion. Maybe read John Patrick Shanley’s “Doubt” instead (which also won a Pulitzer Prize). Or maybe read “Proof” anyway. You might enjoy it more than I did.

The Turn of the Screw, by Henry James

Ghost Caught on Camera - Babysitter Cam Catches Ghost on Make a GIF

“The case, I may mention, was that of an apparition in just such an old house that had gathered us for the occasion—an appearance, of a dreadful kind, to a little boy sleeping in the room with his mother and waking her up in the terror of it; waking her not to dissipate his dread and soothe him to sleep again, but to encounter also herself, before she had succeeded in doing so, the same sight that had shocked him [….] ‘I quite agree—in regard to Griffin’s ghost, or whatever it was—that its appearing first to the little boy, at so tender an age, adds a particular touch. But it’s not the first occurrence of its charming kind that I know to have been concerned with a child. If the child gives the effect another turn of the screw, what do you say to two children—?’ ‘We say of course,’ somebody exclaimed, ‘that two children give two turns! Also that we want to hear about them.’”

The Turn of the Screw is about a woman who becomes governess to not one, but two children. The woman sees ghosts in the house and tries to keep the children from also seeing them. I won’t spoil any more.

I heard so much about how subversive and mind-blowing this book was going to be that I got very engrossed in trying to figure out the plot twist in advance. I completely overthought the whole situation to the point that when I got to the twist, I was very underwhelmed. The moral: don’t do what I did.

Anyway, about the actual book. A better title for it could have probably been “The Perils of Babysitting,” because the two children basically give the protagonist a lot of trouble. The build-up in figuring out what exactly was happening with the ghosts was the most interesting part of the book.

There were some parts where it felt like James was just trying to fill space without really knowing where he was going. Or maybe because he was writing this as a serial, he had to write a certain number of installments to get paid. Either way, those parts kind of took away from how interesting the book was.

In the end, though, it was a good read. Just don’t over-hype it, and don’t read it while babysitting someone’s kids.

Cat’s Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut

Cats Cradle GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

“‘But,’ he said, ‘but how the hell innocent is a man who helps make a thing like an atomic bomb? And how can you say a man had a good mind when he couldn’t even bother to do anything when the best-hearted, most beautiful woman in the world, his own wife, was dying for lack of love and understanding…’ He shuddered, ‘Sometimes I wonder if he wasn’t born dead. I never met a man who was less interested in the living. Sometimes I think that’s the trouble with the world: too many people in high places who are stone-cold dead.’”

This book left me wondering why Vonnegut never won a Pulitzer. Let me explain.

Cat’s Cradle was so cool. It’s about a man who tries to find out about a scientist who helped build the atomic bomb. In the process, the protagonist learns about a dangerous substance called Ice-Nine and becomes king of an island.

As usual with a Vonnegut book, Cat’s Cradle was very funny. There’s just something about Vonnegut’s ability to understate things.

Also, he had some profound ideas and was able to get across their profundity very well. This was probably because Vonnegut didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. He didn’t present them to the reader as if the reader had to agree with him, and he didn’t try coming off like the absolute authority on life’s meaning. So even though he was making all these statements about nihilism, religion, science, and how people kill each other out of stupidity, the statements weren’t the only reason for the book to exist. The statements felt like they were just part of the book’s story.

Basically, read it. Then wonder with me about why he didn’t win the Pulitzer. Finally, watch the Vonnegut cameo from the movie “Back to School”:

I'm Kurt Vonnegut... - Album on Imgur

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Abai

Hello! I hope you’re all healthy and safe. To those who celebrate, happy Passover.

Today I’m reviewing a book that I stayed up late reading…

Selected Poems, by Abai Kunanbayev

Señor GIF - falcons - Greatest GIFs Of All Time - Pronounced GIF or JIF? -  Cheezburger

“My puppy grew into a dog—
And my leg it bit one day.
I taught a youngster once to shoot
He may take my life away.”

This book was written by Abai Kunanbayev, considered to be the greatest poet in Kazakhstan. It was super-interesting, which was why I stayed up late with it.

First of all, the poems themselves were interesting and fresh. The gist of a lot of them was “you need to pay attention to what I’m writing” or “life is transitory” or “politicians are corrupt” or “people these days don’t try hard enough.” Sometimes Abai seemed pretty cynical, but the disappointment he expressed in his poems also had a hint of hope. Maybe, just maybe, if the right person were to read his poems, Abai would be able to get his point across and help someone become less lazy.

What was also interesting about these poems was how much they reminded me of other poems. Many of them made me think of Attar’s “The Conference of the Birds” (which you should definitely read if you haven’t). The same ideas came up in both—the poet offering riches that are overlooked by ignorant masses, life being transitory and poisonous, and the importance of reading things closely. I’d say Attar did it slightly better, since Abai’s poems sometimes had an echo-like quality, as if he were just going through the motions of saying “poets throw pearls before swine” instead of always meaning it.

There was also a poem by Abai that reminded me a lot of Housman’s “To an Athlete Dying Young.” Interestingly, Abai wrote his poem in 1892, four years before Housman wrote his. Could Abai have influenced Housman? Probably not, but it’s cool to see that Abai beat Housman to the punch.

So in the end I would definitely recommend this book. Some of the poems felt like watered-down imitations of Attar, but the majority of them felt fresh and original and worth the read.

Have you read any poems that reminded you of others? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: The Strugatsky Brothers

Hello! I hope you are all healthy and safe and enjoying spring. Below I have reviewed what the Strugatsky Brothers called their magnum opus:

The Doomed City, by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

3D Flying GIF by MOODMAN - Find & Share on GIPHY

“‘I’ve got this understanding of yours right up to here now,’ said Andrei, tapping the edge of his open hand against his Adam’s apple. ‘I understand everything in the world now [….] Nobody needs me, and nobody needs anyone. Whether I exist or I don’t, whether I fight the fight or kick back and lounge on the sofa, it makes no difference. Nothing can be changed, nothing can be put right. All I can do is find myself a more or less comfortable niche [….] But you tell me what I’m supposed to do with this understanding! Pickle it for winter? Or eat it right now?’ The Mentor nodded. ‘Precisely. That is the final borderline. What do you do with your understanding? How do you live with it? You have to live anyway, don’t you?’ ‘The right time to live is when you don’t have any understanding,’ Andrei said with quiet fury. ‘With this understanding the right thing to do is die. And if I weren’t such a coward, if the damned protoplasm didn’t scream so loud inside me, I’d know what to do. I’d choose a good strong rope.’ He stopped speaking [….] ‘Well, let’s start from the fact that you’re not a coward,’ [the Mentor] said. ‘And the reason you haven’t used that rope has nothing to do with you being afraid. Somewhere in your subconscious, and not so very deep, I assure you, lies the condition that it is possible to live, even with understanding, and live pretty well. Interesting, that.’”

The Doomed City is about a Russian named Andrei Voronin who participates in an experiment run by people called Mentors. In this experiment, people from different times in the 20th century are selected to live out the rest of their lives in a city far from Earth. They don’t know what the experiment is about, just that “the experiment is the experiment.” Throughout the book, we see Andrei go from a garbage-collector to a government higher-up, and we see the city fall into chaos.

There are 6 parts to the book. The first 4 of them aren’t even worth reading because of their racism and sexism. However, Part 6 and certain sections of Part 5 are incredible. In reading them, you can skip ~100% of the book’s racism and sexism while getting ~100% of the book’s greatness.

If you do decide to go this route, here’s what I recommend. First, read a Wikipedia summary of the book so you’re not confused. Second, borrow it from a library since it’s not worth buying. Third, read the following sections from Part 5: Andrei’s inner-monologue about his experiences during the Leningrad Siege, and the conversation between Andrei and his Mentor (a part of which I quoted above). Finally, read all of Part 6.

The only reason I’m even suggesting this approach is because these sections are as good as anything Tolstoy wrote and should not be missed, even if the rest of the book should be chucked out in the process.

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Tolkien

Hello! Today’s post will be short, but worth it. I’ve reread an old favorite…

The Children of Húrin, by J.R.R. Tolkien

Matterhorn GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

“But Túrin sped far before them, and came to Cabed-en-Aras, and stood still; and he heard the roaring of the water, and saw that all the trees near and far were withered, and their sere leaves fell mournfully, as though winter had come in the first days of summer.”

This story is about a man named Túrin, who’s the son of Húrin, a warrior in Middle-Earth. The story’s a tragedy, since Túrin’s family has been cursed by evil.

It’s a good tragedy. The first time I read it, I listened to it on audiobook and loved it. This time, I also loved it. I even enjoyed it more than The Lord of The Rings.

It was interesting to see how Tolkien could tell many different story types. In The Hobbit, he was able to tell a fun story, in The Lord of the Rings he told a more serious and epic tale, and in The Children of Húrin he told what felt like a legend.

In spite of his distant style of narration (“It was said that X and Y and Z happened”), Tolkien provided enough humanizing details that I was still able to connect with the characters (“Túrin wept bitterly after XYZ but went to character ABC and said, ‘LMNOP’ [something kind]”). In tragedies, it seems the character is the most important aspect. Yes, some of the tragic events in this story felt a bit like they were based too much on coincidence and accidents, but the characters felt real enough for that not to matter much.

Overall, if you haven’t read this yet, do so. You won’t regret it (though you may cry!)

Lit in the Time of Coronavirus: Chekhov and French Tales

Hello! I hope you’re all well. It’s Midterms Week here at school, so I’ve only been able to read two books. They were worth it, though…

The Tales of Chekhov Volume 1, Translated by Constance Garnett

Spring Tulip GIF by Duke University - Find & Share on GIPHY

“‘And why did you leave us so early on Thursday, Nikolay Timofeitch?’ ‘Hm! It’s queer you noticed it,’ says the shopman, with a smirk. ‘You were so taken up with that fine student that . . . it’s queer you noticed it!’ Polinka flushes crimson and remains mute. With a nervous quiver in his fingers the shopman closes the boxes, and for no sort of object piles them one on the top of another. A moment of silence follows. ‘I want some bead lace, too,’ says Polinka, lifting her eyes guiltily to the shopman. ‘What sort? Black or coloured? Bead lace on tulle is the most fashionable trimming.’ ‘And how much is it?’ ‘The black’s from eighty kopecks and the coloured from two and a half roubles. I shall never come and see you again,’ Nikolay Timofeitch adds in an undertone.”
(From “Polinka”)

This was an interesting collection of six Chekhov stories. They were of varying lengths. What struck me the most about them was that Chekhov can write about people in a way that reminds you of people you know in real life. I experienced this when reading his “The Darling.”

Also, I used to think of Chekhov as someone who did character sketches but now I think of his stories more as relationship sketches. Yes, Chekhov gets you to know his characters, but he does that so he can then get you to understand their relationships with other people. For instance, in one of his stories, you could figure out pretty easily that Character A secretly likes Character B, but you don’t really understand the full meaning of that dynamic until Chekhov develops it in the rest of the story.

Sometimes, it felt that he went on too much about a relationship dynamic. There was one story where Character C kept crawling back to his beloved Character D after supposedly leaving her for good. After he crawled back to her for the fourth time, I found myself wondering what the point was.

Overall though, it was an entertaining collection that I would recommend. If you’re just out to read one or two stories from it, I’d recommend “Polinka” and “Anyuta.”

French Tales, Translated by Helen Constantine

Europe eiffel tower paris GIF - Find on GIFER

“Hugues Barros can no longer see anything on this earth. A slight foam rises through the corners of his mouth, frequent spasms shake his limbs. With one last effort he raises himself little by little into a sitting position. And he dies sitting up, his eyes vague, like a creature that is just awakening.” (From “The Bull From Jouvet”)

This is a collection of 22 French short stories by writers including Annie Saumont, Guy de Maupassant, and Émile Zola. Each story is set in one of France’s 22 regions.

Most of the stories were enjoyable. They also introduced me to some new French authors (like Alphonse Daudet) and made me sad about the fact that more of their work hadn’t been translated into English (like Annie Saumont). In fact, you can’t find English versions of some of the stories anywhere outside of this collection. Believe me. I tried. That alone makes it worth reading.

Some things made the collection less enjoyable than it might have been. Some of the stories felt like they had the exact same ending, to the point I found myself correctly guessing the resolution in advance. Also, a few of the stories were less interesting than others, but that might just be personal taste.

The good news is that there were so many interesting stories. Some of my favorite stories included Annie Saumont’s “You Should Have Changed at Dol”, Stéphane Émond’s “House in the Woods”, Daniel Boulanger’s “The Cattle Man”, Colette’s “Where Are the Children?”, Guy de Maupassant’s “A Mother’s Tale”, Paul Hervieu’s “The Bull from Jouvet”, and Alphonse Daudet’s “The Pope’s Mule.”

So even though the collection wasn’t perfect, I’d still recommend that you take a chance on it.

Until next week!

30 Great Book Gifs | Book gif, English major, Self help books