As the 1990s began, I realized I was reading LOTS of books. I was probably averaging about one book a week. But I noticed something: I was only reading non-fiction. In fact, the only fiction I had read up to that time (excluding children’s book, such as Dr. Seuss) were the novels that had been read to me in class, such as Charlotte’s Web and The Secret of NIMH. Well-meaning friends and relatives, mistakenly assuming I liked fiction, purchased novels for me, and they sat on my shelves for years…until I finally dumped them off at the Goodwill. In fact, of the 50 or so novels that people bought for me when I was a kid, the only one I ever took it upon myself to read was Stuart Little. Authored by the same man who wrote Charlotte’s Web, I figured it must be good.
So, in 1990, I decided that if I was to consider myself literate, I would need to start incorporating fiction into my reading diet. I set up a plan wherein I would read one novel every month beginning in September 1990. I wanted to make sure I read modern classics – works of fiction that had become timeless treasures in our libraries.
I pretty much had no idea where to begin. I looked at a list of “great” books that I found posted on a library wall. I hadn’t heard of any of them, so I wondered how great they truly were. Then, in a flash of brilliance, I decided to cull from that rocking list of historical events from the past half century: Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”
I’m sure you recall that insightful line where Joel poetically intones: “Rosenburgs H-bomb Sugar Ray Panmunjon Brando the King and I and the Catcher in the Rye.”
So, in early September 1990 – the same day I began 10th grade – I likewise began my journey into the world of great literature.
And I was underwhelmed.
It’s not, mind you, that I hated Catcher, it’s just that I didn’t get what the big deal was. This is considered one of the best novels of our century? And it doesn’t even have a plot? Huh? It’s just some kid wandering around New York. Who cares? I mean, I liked his frank honesty about everything – especially how he thought school was phony and nuns were hypocrites…but couldn’t the Salinger have wrapped those insights into a moving tale? Apparently not.
I hoped October would bring something better. For that month, I again turned to Billy Joel for a suggested read, and soon found myself forcing myself to read the dry, rambling, aimless, pointless, X-less (where “X” stands for any quality one may want in a story) waste of paper known as On the Road. In debating with a fellow student about the merits of this novel, she offered this: “Ah, yes, but Kerouac can turn such a good phrase.” Yes, I suppose he can. But far from simply turning a good phrase, I would’ve liked to have seen him turn a good tale. (I suppose this is the opposite problem of the far more readable Dan Brown, who can spin a good yarn but has nary a memorable line in any of his works.)
In November, I read Stranger in a Strange Land (again at the suggestion of Joel) hoping that a Sci Fi tale would at least be palatable. Though I applaud its ability to contain a plot (that’s 1 for 3!), the last third of the book was a mental wasteland.
December equaled The Old Man and the Sea, which easily would have been the crappies book I’d ever read if not for my October experience (see above). A grumpy man with whom I had no concern, struggles to bring a decaying fish back to shore. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.
In January I read Of Mice and Men. Not bad, but certainly not great. In February I read what is probably the greatest example of a botched good idea in the history of sci fi: Fahrenheit 451. In March a read The Metamorphosis, a rambling and belaboring tale that seemed to have something to say, but never succeeded. When I saw it listed on the syllabus for one of my classes this fall, I nearly wanted to drop out of the class (and I ultimately did).
In April, May and June, I read Flowers for Algernon, Johnny Got His Gun and 1984, respectively. And my faith in humanity’s ability to write a good a novel was restored.
Still, I was jaded. In the six years that followed, I read exactly one novel. Needless to say, I’m a lot more picky now.
So long; I’m gonna get back to this book on American History that I’m reading.
Bottom Line:
The Catcher in the Rye: C
On the Road: F
Stranger in a Strange Land: D
The Old Man and the Sea: F
Of Mice and Men: C
Fahrenheit 451: C
The Metamorphosis: D
Flowers for Algernon: A
Johnny Got His Gun: A
1984: A
This post is your Old Man and the Sea. 😛
ALL the posts on my blog are my Old Man and the Sea, but then I actually liked that book. ha! Thank happenstance for variations of opinion and perspective. 🙂
Perhaps both our blogs are our “Old Man & the Sea”. However, I give us kudos for being able to say in a single page what took Hemingway 100 pages.
Maybe I should read it again, though I seriously doubt I will ever do so.
After disliking the three previous books, I was looking forward to reading Hemingway because, unlike Kerouac and Salinger, he’s known for his whole body of work instead of just a single book. I purposely selected a shorter book, hoping dearly I would love it so as to use it as a springboard into “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and “A Farewell to Arms”.
The thing is, I get the layers of the book. The story is crushingly boring, but I do realize that it’s a metaphor for deeper issues and concerns of the human condition. (Star Trek is the same way, but couples the message with a generally engaging tale). Maybe if it was a short story (i.e., <10 pages) I would have enjoyed it. But by about 40, I got the point, and I had to force myself to continue.
However – I would be interested in having an in-person conversation about “Old Man”. I also, BTW, think it’s hilarious that you respond to a tirade against a book you liked by simply saying “It’s great that we disagree.” You’re such a Buddhist. I’m jealous. Too much New York in my blood to ever be like that…but I admire…
I would suggest Stephen King and John Sanford as potential fiction authors. Stephen King’s early works are the best I think. Still one of my favorite books of all time is “The Stand”. I set a goal for myself after I moved back to the cities of reading all of John Sanford’s novels. I am about 2 chapters away from completing that goal. He writes saucy murder mysteries, great fun! But seriously check out “The Stand”.
Thanks for the suggestions. I’ve never heard of Stanford, but I’ve been meaning to crack open a Stephen King for a few years now. “The Stand” seems like an ambitious book to start with. Maybe I’ll add it to my list of novels to read in 2010.
John Sanford is a local author, you may recognize his real name as John Camp. He wrote for the St. Paul Pioneer Press for many years as a columnist. An added plus for his books, his main character is a Mpls cop names Lucas Davenport. It kind of fun because he writes about many landmarks in the Twin Cities area. Century College was even mentioned in one of his books!
Sounds interesting. I will check out his stuff soon. Thanks.
“I also, BTW, think it’s hilarious that you respond to a tirade against a book you liked by simply saying “It’s great that we disagree.” You’re such a Buddhist. I’m jealous. Too much New York in my blood to ever be like that…but I admire…”
It takes a Buddhist to see what is so great about nothing. 🙂
Ryan and I argue about this from time to time because he absolutely hates a few of my favorite movies. It made me examine the idea of expectation bias. Most people seem to want very specific things from books or movies or relationships or hobbies or whatever. If what they want isn’t very clearly represented, they lose interest or even speak ill of the thing in question.
I try not to let my own demands or expectations color my opinions. If a bit of art is trying to convey a feeling, I’m not going to look for what I personally like to see in it so much as try to get what the artist was getting at. Some people need an engaging plot or clear narrative. Some people need resolution. I just need a sincere attempt to convey feeling or shared experience, plus a little talent in doing so. Not that this makes me awesome; I always admire how specific others’ opinions are, and how quickly they come to them. I have to chew on everything for a long while before I have a conclusive opinion, and by then everyone else has usually moved on. It’s like that Jim Gaffigan skit:
First guy: “I saw ‘Heat’.”
Second guy: “I saw that like eight YEARS ago…”
First guy: “Yeah, well I wanna talk about it now.”
Yeah, everyone goes into books/movies with their own expectations & background knowledge. I like the sharing of emotion and experience, too, I just think that if you can’t wrap it in a great story, then just write poetry (or greeting cards). The best novels I’ve read incorporate both a captivating story and a sharing of the human condition. Same thing with films.
If it’s any consolation, Ryan hates some movies and books that I love…and I hate some that he loves. I hope one day he comes around.