tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13486329608494188042024-02-18T22:55:14.058-05:00Days of ReadingBook reviews. Reading lists. Other bookish things.Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-62046691121499644932010-03-15T15:00:00.003-04:002010-03-15T15:08:54.031-04:00Famam Librosque CanoToday, we take a break from book reviews and look at an early poem of Ezra Pound. Its title translates to “I sing of fame and books”: the opening line of the Aeneid (“armam virumque cano”) translates to “I sing of arms and a man”.Famam Librosque Cano * by Ezra PoundYour song? Oh! The little mothersWill sing them in the twilightAnd when the nightShrinketh the kiss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-75125115660102513832010-03-14T21:51:00.005-04:002010-03-14T22:10:06.221-04:00Arcadia, Part IArcadia, Tom StoppardSummary:The set, a 19th century school room in an English manor overlooking a grand park, is shared by 2 sets of characters, living in 1809-1812 and "present day" (presumably 1993, when this play was first published. In 1809, Thomasina Coverly is a precocious genius of 13 being tutored by Cambridge-educated, gentlemanly, Byronic Septimus Hodge, who happens to be friends with Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-63033015353654663902010-02-27T12:15:00.002-05:002010-02-27T12:23:21.076-05:0021: The Odd WomenThe Odd Women, George GissingThe Odd Women is acutely aware of misery.The title refers to unmarried women in Victorian society, when women outnumbered men and had virtually no way of earning a dignified living, aside from making a suitable marriage. Being brought up to be a lady and educated to be a lady, an odd woman could only obtain work as a governess or a companion - both unhappy position. Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-8196006507565593902010-01-26T16:53:00.005-05:002010-01-26T17:18:55.353-05:0020: Clara CallanClara Callan, Richard B. WrightI once read a satirical website that boasted a recipe for the composition award-winning literature. It had dictums like "thou shalt sneer at conflict" and "thou shalt commit no plot". I thought it was hilarious, sinister, at the time, distant. Now that I have wasted hours of my life - gone, irretrievably gone like the wind - reading Clara Callan, winner of the Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-64841368049863206382009-12-22T23:47:00.004-05:002010-01-26T17:18:04.025-05:0019: Remarkable CreaturesRemarkable Creatures, Tracy ChevalierElizabeth Philpot and her sister are eccentric spinsters in the early 1800's - back when mothers spent most of their energy marrying off daughters and the rest solving the menage problem (how to seat large dinner parties so that so married couples sit next to each other). When their brother prepares to get married, the sisters are exiled to Lyme Regis to livedKayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-88133773964551770942009-11-30T19:06:00.002-05:002009-11-30T19:32:00.297-05:0018: The Original of LauraVladimir Nabokov, The Original of LauraA fragmentary review:"Dear Mummy and Hummy," wrote Lolita, once upon another Nabokov book. Flora might have written something of the sort, but her mother's tenant is named "Hubert Hubert".There is a lovely, nearly-complete scene wherein Flora is sitting on a bench at a train station and is accosted by an old friend, who presses her to read a book called Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-77750641953257836632009-11-22T22:11:00.005-05:002009-11-23T14:08:51.833-05:00Why I hate Jane EyreI thought I would hate Twilight. From listening to friends and reading reviews, I'd already noticed its similarities to Jane Eyre and I read it, hoping for a bash-fest of a comparison between it and my all-time-least-favourite book. But I was wrong. It's only Jane Eyre that I hate.Twilight is really not all that bad. It's a seductive, little fantasy about obsessive love on the dark side of Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-69630329199579979872009-11-15T11:57:00.003-05:002009-11-15T12:29:51.520-05:00Reading Anais continuedI keep a diary because journaling is supposed to have therapeutic effects. It's supposed to help with depression and various mental illnesses. Recording one's life and being able to look back on it and think about what has happened and why ... this process is supposed to filter out the crazy in one's life. It's introspection and meditation and all those healthy things. One should be able to spot Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-36555165619557550922009-11-05T18:03:00.004-05:002009-11-05T18:55:41.009-05:0018: Swann's Way"And, drying my eyes, I promised them [the hawthorn flowers] that, when I grew up, I would never copy the foolish example of other men, but that even in Paris, on fine spring days, instead of paying calls and listening to silly talk, I would make excursions into the country to see the first hawthorn-trees in bloom."Proust, Swann's Way, somewhere towards the end of Combray chapterI had been Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-67692920150063522382009-10-28T19:05:00.006-04:002009-10-28T19:52:41.201-04:00Reading Anais NinSometimes, I think I'm a bit whimsical. As I nearly finished cooking dinner today, I was seized with a sudden craving for onion soup. Despite having no idea how onion soup is made, I proceeded to cook and invent a recipe for onion soup out of the contents of my fridge, while eating the dinner that I'd already made.Yesterday, I was seized with a sudden compulsion to read the diaries of Anais Nin. Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-72075594764853667652009-10-27T19:02:00.003-04:002009-10-27T19:48:56.613-04:00Wrapping up the September/October reading listI started this reading project with the noble ambition of making a large dent in the Nobel Laureates book list and am moving on to other books and other horizons.Most of these books that I've read (the Piano Teacher, Auto-da-fe, Mourning Becomes Electra) are about such extraordinary people. Here, I'm not using the word "extraordinary" as one describes superheroes or gods, but as in the sense of Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-32078074820637526072009-10-14T20:05:00.002-04:002009-10-14T20:24:08.658-04:00Reading HerzogBuried under a pile of graduate student drudgery as I am, I am still reading and ticking off Nobel Literature laureates. This week, I'm reading Saul Bellow's Herzog. Herzog is a professor who is so afflicted by the cruelties of his ex-wife that he is reduced to a semi-sane state, wherein he stops in the middle of his lectures of scribble down snippets of letters. These letters - to various peopleKayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-75647316664519319162009-10-04T11:19:00.003-04:002009-10-04T12:03:16.730-04:0017: One day in the life of Ivan DenisovichAleksandr Solzhenitsyn, One day in the life of Ivan DenisovichThis is one of those books that I always wanted to read, but never got around to it. I thought it might be depressing and, like a hypochondriac, I often suspect myself of depression, read about symptoms of various mental illnesses, and fall under the impression that one depressing book will plunge me into a fit of depression and Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-87423554104432372062009-09-24T20:37:00.008-04:002009-09-24T20:44:09.973-04:0016 Desire Under the Elms/Strange Interlude/Mourning Becomes Electra<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-53625841712446453932009-09-20T19:35:00.003-04:002009-09-20T19:38:49.901-04:0015: One Hundred Years of Solitude<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-29588792798483274582009-09-16T20:51:00.002-04:002009-09-16T20:55:14.487-04:0014: Gosta Berling's Saga<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-8422280037698186292009-09-13T19:58:00.005-04:002009-09-14T10:04:50.965-04:0013: The Waste Land and Other Poems<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-59186670873809614322009-09-11T10:02:00.005-04:002009-09-14T10:03:59.695-04:0012: The Bread of Those Early Years<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-67150957567413381432009-09-08T16:12:00.003-04:002009-09-08T16:17:31.454-04:0011: Auto-da-fe<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-85982050540359798212009-09-07T21:22:00.003-04:002009-09-07T21:46:22.473-04:0010: Main Street<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-45969458867388375612009-09-07T12:40:00.000-04:002009-09-07T13:50:44.185-04:00Purple Progress UpdateThe purple is spreading!Recently, I have finished reading:1. Main Street by Sinclair Lewis2. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez3. The Waste Land and other poems by T. S. Eliot4. Auto-da-fe by Elias Canetti5. The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling6. Penguin Island by Anatole FranceReviews will follow soon.Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-26453240240395920492009-09-01T21:32:00.001-04:002009-09-01T22:50:45.954-04:00(500) Days of Summer -- a digressionL.A. as filtered by love in '(500) Days of Summer' -- latimes.comPosted using ShareThisI spontaneously saw "(500) Days of Summer" this past Sunday and subsequently found this article in the LA Times. It is a view of the movie from an architectural point of view. Tom is a budding architect and loves the architecture of Los Angeles. But the city in this movie, as the article points out, is free of Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-51209983032249965922009-08-27T11:08:00.000-04:002009-08-27T11:12:39.346-04:00Reading Update: these books are odd<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-58871516376019312952009-08-25T23:57:00.000-04:002009-08-26T00:03:11.011-04:009: Suite Francaise<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-CA X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1348632960849418804.post-14900621278117530682009-08-23T20:06:00.000-04:002009-08-23T21:33:50.167-04:00What to read next?You, dear reader, are treated, see above, to a generous sample of my handwriting. And now you know why, as I read the second Mrs. de Winter's description of Rebecca's neat slanty handwriting, I sympathized more with Rebecca than with the narrator. Why this dubious treat? That question will be answered at the very end of this post.What to read next? That is the question. It comes upon me Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04537662514032289802noreply@blogger.com0