Stoner by John Williams (not the "composer")

I'm posting a few older reviews that used to be on Goodreads...trying to fill out my virtual bookshelves a little. With a complete lack of humility, I'll tell you that my staff review has made it tough to keep this book in stock at work. I'm even accumulating a bit of a book review following, though a coworker says that they're all "old dudes with mustaches."  She's not wrong, which does seem a bit odd.  I wonder how many of my mustachioed followers have read any of the Jane Austen I've suggested.  At any rate, here's a brief plot synopsis since my review gives you none...and no, it's not about a pothead.

William Stoner is born at the end of the nineteenth century into a dirt-poor Missouri farming family. Sent to the state university to study agronomy, he instead falls in love with English literature and embraces a scholar’s life, so different from the hardscrabble existence he has known. And yet as the years pass, Stoner encounters a succession of disappointments: marriage into a “proper” family estranges him from his parents; his career is stymied; his wife and daughter turn coldly away from him; a transforming experience of new love ends under threat of scandal. Driven ever deeper within himself, Stoner rediscovers the stoic silence of his forebears and confronts an essential solitude.

John Williams’s luminous and deeply moving novel is a work of quiet perfection. William Stoner emerges from it not only as an archetypal American, but as an unlikely existential hero, standing, like a figure in a painting by Edward Hopper, in stark relief against an unforgiving world.

I should also tell you that this will be my number one read of 2013. I am 100% certain that nothing else will come remotely close. My review below...

***

Give me a moment to dry my eyes. I'm still shedding a tear or two today after finishing this book in the wee hours of this morning. I can't say much beyond what's already been said. So I will describe my experience with it.

About half-way through this book I was exhausted. Partly from turning the pages so quickly, but mostly from the unendurable sadness that is William Stoner's life (though even in my exhaustion, I was entranced). And then I realized that while quiet and melancholy, and with its fair share of villains, Stoner's life isn't sad at all.

It's just life.

And then the book opened up to me, or maybe I opened up to it, and I fell in love. I fell in love with William Stoner and his quiet university life. I fell in love with his sweet-tempered, lifelong friend, and even with his scheming enemies. I fell in love with the succession of events that made up this one man's ordinary life, and I fell in love with the way that life moved me.

I can't really explain what it is about this book. Yes; it's well written, filled with living, breathing characters; and perfectly paced. But it's more than that... and I don't have the talent to impress upon you just how beautiful it is. Read the blurbs, and other more eloquent reviewers. More importantly, read the book.

Can't stop listening to this

This remix is trance inducing, and calming, and it makes me fly. It's my bar study theme song. 4:51 to the end is the big payoff, but you need those 4 previous minutes to really appreciate it. Magic. Just hit play, and go about your day.

 

 You're welcome.

It's Probably Just Gas

Tonight, I spent the better part of an hour researching carbon monoxide poisoning and symptoms before realizing I'm just really, really tired.  I also thought the cats were succumbing until I remembered that they are cats, and prone to lying about in a nearly comatose stupor.

The Blue Book

Two books finished in one week.  Phew.  I'm a reading machine.

A.L. Kennedy is an all-time favorite of mine.  Her writing is unlike anyone else out there.  Her story ideas, truly unique.  If you haven't read her, you're not reading the right things.  The Blue Book is great, while not my favorite of hers, it's right up there (Day is my favorite...read it, NOW).

I would tell you a little about it, but that's hard to do without giving too much away, or diminishing it and making it sound much more mundane than it is.  I will say, it takes place on a boat shuttling retirees from Britain to America, present dayish.  The novel follows the strangely misplaced, younger passengers Beth and mysterious Arthur, and explores the murky past between them...all this happening while Beth's better half suffers from a fiendish bout of sea sickness.  Throw in some psychic mediums, dead mothers, and disappointing fathers along the way, and you have what turns out to be a surprisingly touching, humorous, and heartbreaking novel.  (UGH, would someone please give me a better word for heartbreaking, blech).

Other things about this book:
-The book talks to you, the reader, all while acknowledging that it is a book.
-Beth is the perfect protagonist, because she is you and she is me in all her messed up, selfish, glory.
-And the page numbers skip around in a strange dance that is both exhilarating and unsettling (I never knew how important it was for me to have page numbers in the right order).

I know none of this makes much sense, and it might not make much sense for you even after you read the book.  For me, it didn't seem to matter.  How tidy and sensical (just invented that word, opposite of nonsensical...duh) are our lives anyway?

A.L. Kennedy is not a gentle writer.  She's raw, cunning, and crude.  Most of her books are complete mindfucks, and this one is no exception.  But her acrobatic writing will leave you dizzy and breathless and hooked.  She's phenomenal, like I said, if you haven't read her, you're not reading the right things.

And you're a reader- clearly- here you are reading your book, which is what it was made for.  It loves when you look, wakes when you look, and then it listens and it speaks.  It was built to welcome your attention and reciprocate with this: the sound it lifts inside you.  It gives you the signs for the shapes of the names of the thoughts in your mouth and in your mind and this is where they sing, here at the point where you both meet.

Which is where you might imagine, might even elicit, the tremble of paper, that unmistakable flinch.  It moves for you, your book, and it will always show you all it can.

Just take a moment, read that out loud, and tell me you didn't get shivers.  And that's just from the first page!

Maybe it's a Colbert Blog

I'm headed to New York City in a little over a month.  And in the midst of the horror (not an exaggeration) that is studying for the Bar Exam, a sense of giddiness creeps in from time to time.  I feel like I'm finally taking the tiniest of baby steps towards being the great traveler I always knew I should be.

That occasional giddiness is constantly overcome by the immense gratitude I have for great, dear friends who are making it all happen.  I am so blessed...and you will be too if you ever run into any legal trouble (you all know who you are).

This trip was meant to be a post-graduation celebration, and when I was deciding where to go, I had three main ideas: a trip to Orlando and Harry Potter World, a week in San Diego to learn to surf, or New York City to see Stephen Colbert.  New York City it is...and Stephen Colbert it will be.  It's happening, people. Show tickets are in hand, plans are made, now all I need is the perfect question to pose during the pre-show (out-of-character!) question and answer session.

This is the year I see all my favorite, famous people.  Well, it's really just been Stephen and The Killers, but come on, who else is there?

I'll be honest, I wrote this post because of the clip below.  While I am so excited to see all the history and awesomeness that is New York, this clip reminds me why I wanted to go in the first place.  I wanted to go so I could see someone I admire.  You all know how I gush and make googly-eyes at...well, Stephen and The Killers (among others), but beyond all that gushing and googly-eyeing is plain admiration and respect.  With Stephen Colbert, it's his intelligence, humor, and humanity that I particularly admire...and it's all here in this clip.  I only just watched it tonight.  I knew it was there, but I also knew it would be sad...and it is, but so very sweet and human.  I can't wait to see him.

Poison Penmanship

I finally finished a book. Unbelievable. And one I have been reading since..maybe March. I have no idea since I no longer have Goodreads to tell me when I started it. This book is just one more example of the genius going on at New York Review of Books. I have yet to read a stinker from their entire collection, and count two of their "rediscovered" titles as favorites (Stoner and The Summer Book). At any rate here's a little review:

Poison Penmanship: The Gentle Art of Muckraking by Jessica Mitford

Jessica Mitford is delightful. Self-deprecating, charming, and witty, with a definite grasp of the ridiculous. This is a collection of some of her more popular magazine pieces, most of them restored to the original form she intended. Mitford's writing style reminds me a lot of Shirley Jackson in her memoir Life Among the Savages (which is also amazing, and highly recommended).

Part of what makes this collection so great are the personal comments at the end of each piece. There you'll find anecdotes on the writing process, things she wished she'd done differently, parts of the story that didn't make it in the final piece, and most enjoyable of all, behind the scenes looks at some of the more dubious characters she encounters. For the best laughs and enjoyment, try: Don't Call it Syphilis, Maine Chance Diary, My Short and Happy Life as a Distinguished Professor, and Let Us Now Appraise Famous Writers. For more somber and social justice-canted works, head for Trial by Headline and A Talk With George Jackson.

Incidentally, Mitford claims that her sister coined the term "frenemies" in what must have been the 1920s or 30s, a claim that could require some muckraking of its own

Bus Readers, K edition

This afternoon's bus ride home was brought to you by the letter K.

• One fellow was reading a book about mountain climbing, the chapter he was reading: K2
• Another gentleman was reading a Phillip K. Dick novel
• The woman next to me was reading her Kindle (lame, I judged her)
• and I was reading my new NME magazine cover story on The Killers

I obviously had the best reading material. At the very least, mine was the most beautiful.

Here's a funny story about the letter K. A few months back, when I was trying to be a little less crazy about The Killers (instead of my current and more comfortable state as full-on Killers historian...stalker) I was hanging out with Carrie, and determined not to bring up the subject of the world's greatest band.  Here's how the conversation went:

C: What'd you do today?

E: I returned some books to the library...I lied, I was returning cds.

C: I love that you lie about it and then tell the truth in the same sentence.

E: Well, returning books sounds more intellectual than returning cds.

C: Were they Killers cds?

E: No.

C: ...

E: THEY WEREN'T!

C: Were they cds of bands that Brandon Flowers likes?

E: ...

C: Those are Killers cds!

E: No, they aren't and besides...(enter some long-ass story about The Killers' musical influences here)...Man! I wasn't going to talk about them tonight! It's your fault.  How did you do that?

C: Me?!? All I have to mention is their name and you've got a new story about their favorite foods, or what happened at some recent show, or what Brandon Flowers said in an interview...hell, all I have to do is say the letter K.

She's right. It's a powerful letter.

Colbert-ifications

I haven't been around for a year or so...a couple of things.

I still love Stephen. I know a lot of you were worried that in the haze of my seemingly-sudden-onset, ever-increasing, restraining order-inducing feelings for The Killers... that I had forgotten about Stephen.

Never.

Whether or not there will be tickets to The Report for my August trip to the Big Apple is a constant source of anxiety and worry. I will forever love him. Always.

And how annoying was John Mellencamp on Thursday's episode? Why do people think they can go on the show and upstage my Stephen. They can't. No one can. Unless you are among the small population of inherently awesome, or Stephen was in love with you as a child (Dolly Parton), trying to upstage him just makes you look sad and irrelevant. But perhaps that is an accurate description of John Mellencamp at this point. Also, in the same episode, how adorable was Stephen King?!?? So adorable!... and that takes some saying on my part. (if you click that last link, please understand that there is nothing in this world I regret more than defending Stephenie Meyer)

Just wanted to clarify some things. Mainly, I still love Stephen Colbert. Here's a little clip of why that will forever be true.
WHAT UP, SOUP?!!!?!?!? Pure genius.

Here's another clip.

Shit. Well, did you really think I would could post something without them? Did you?

Yup...It's a Killers Blog

This is adorable for so many reasons.  Mostly Ronnie's slight confusion, and Brando's perfect timing.

Killer Mail

I got something in the mail today from a Killer.

I might have peed a little when I saw his name.  

And before you ask; yes, I ordered it and yes, 

I knew it was coming. I still might have peed a little.